Cowboy Up

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I’m sorry it’s still missing,” Emily said. “I wonder where it is.”

  “Yep, that’s the big question.”

  “I have some other news. Watkins spent the night with Mary Lou.”

  “That’s what the hands figured when he stayed out all night.” Patches tossed his head and Clay tightened his hold on the lead rope.

  “So you knew already?”

  Clay lowered his voice. “Actually I missed the fact that he left the bunkhouse late in the evening and never made it back. The guys didn’t miss it. This morning when his bunk hadn’t been slept in, they all began to speculate whether he got lucky.”

  “I can see why you had to get back, then. They notice.”

  “Yep.” Patches bumped Clay’s shoulder with his nose. “Listen, Nick and I are about to do the collection, but it looks like you and Emmett haven’t started with Calamity Sam yet.”

  “No. I gave him a birthday present and he wanted to take it back to his house.”

  “But everything’s fine with him, right? He isn’t acting strange or anything?”

  “He’s fine.” She paused. “Well, when he first came into the kitchen, he had a funny look in his eye. Or maybe I was just imagining it. Are you worried he might know?”

  “I’m worried that somebody knows. The bent screen is also gone.”

  “Oh!”

  “Yeah, not good.” Clay saw movement in the corral. “Emmett’s back and he’s turned out Sam, so you’d better get over there to help him.”

  “And you’re doing the collection right now?”

  “Yes. Nick’s already in there.”

  “Let me ask my dad if he can spare me for a few minutes.”

  “You know, maybe you shouldn’t. I know you want to watch this, but I have another collection scheduled for tomorrow morning. Let’s see how everything looks then.”

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

  He hated that he was responsible for the anxiety in her green eyes. And all the blame was his. He was the genius who’d decided to pay her a visit last night. He’d been the smartass who’d decided he needed to wear his best hat. And if he’d been more alert, he could have caught that screen instead of letting it bounce on the ground.

  “I’m sorry, Emily. I hope I haven’t put you in an impossible situation.”

  She smiled at him. “I’m not sorry. No matter what happens, it was worth it.”

  He let out a long breath. “Thanks for that. Now go help your dad.”

  “I will. Have fun with the AV, cowboy.” With a wink, she turned and started off for the corral.

  He watched her go way longer than he should have. If Patches hadn’t jerked the lead rope, he might have watched even longer. If Emmett noticed him staring after Emily, Clay would be in deep trouble.

  But she’d told him it was worth it. He’d hang onto that statement for dear life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emily had halfway expected her dad to ask why she’d been talking to Clay, but he didn’t. Instead he began instructing her as to how they’d go about desensitizing Calamity Sam to the noise of a rustling plastic bag.

  The yearling was a good-sized gray and white Paint, but he still looked gangly, like a teenager who needed to grow into his long legs. He had a gray patch over one eye that Emily found adorable. She would have liked to walk over and rub his silky-looking neck, but he was already eyeing the plastic bag warily, so she stayed back.

  The routine was simple. Emily walked around the corral and shook the bag every so often. First she’d do it in front of the horse, then to one side, then the other, then in back. Meanwhile her dad held Sam’s halter and talked soothingly to him. Whenever the colt was calm, Emmett gave him pieces of carrot as a reward.

  They worked the program for fifteen-minute stretches, and then turned Sam loose to run around in the corral for a while and blow off steam. After that her dad would snap the lead rope onto his halter and they’d repeat the process for another fifteen minutes.

  By rights, Emily should have been bored. But she discovered that watching her father patiently coaxing Sam to accept the rattling plastic was fun. The horse was like a little kid, and she found herself laughing when he tried to get carrots he hadn’t earned.

  True, this was tame stuff compared to the noisy goings-on in the shed where Nick and Clay worked. Even though the shed stood quite a distance from the barn and the corral, the stallion’s cries carried to where Emily and her dad toiled with Sam. Her dad made no reference to it, acting as if he didn’t hear the stallion.

  After a while, the noise stopped. That probably meant Clay was using the AV on the stallion, and Emily really was curious as to how that all happened. Her curiosity would have to wait to be satisfied, though.

  No doubt because she had sex on the brain lately, she worried about the stallion’s satisfaction level. He’d been led to believe he could have the teaser mare, and she hoped the poor stud would get some fun out of the AV. Did they warm it somehow? If she got the opportunity, she’d ask Clay about that.

  “Emily?”

  “Yes?” She glanced at her father.

  “You stopped rattling the bag.”

  “Sorry.” Whoops. She’d have to be careful about staring off into space like that. She dutifully began rattling the plastic bag.

  But as she moved around the corral, she caught sight of Clay walking out of the shed. Sure enough, he was carrying the canister of semen on his shoulder as promised. He was like a walking advertisement for virility — have semen, will travel.

  “Emily?”

  “Oh! Sorry, Dad!” She was seriously causing problems for herself. Her father might not have guessed that she was daydreaming about Clay earlier, but just now she’d been staring at the guy, so how much more obvious could she be?

  She poured all her concentration into rattling that bag and somehow managed to ignore the tall cowboy walking across from the shed to the tractor barn on the other side of the corral. But still she knew, by keeping track from the corner of her eye, when he went inside.

  “Break time,” Emmett said. He unhooked the lead rope and Sam galloped around the corral, kicking up his heels.

  On one circle he veered so close to Emily that she felt the wind of his passing. She rolled the plastic into a tight ball and jammed it down into her shorts pocket so that it was completely out of sight. Next time Sam came by, she called his name softly.

  To her surprise, he wheeled and pranced toward her, his nostrils flared.

  “Can I have a piece of carrot, Dad?” she asked. “I want to make a friend.”

  “Sure thing, Em.” He walked over and gave her a couple of pieces.

  Sam perked right up and ambled closer, sniffing loudly. Emily held one carrot back and put the other in her outstretched hand. The yearling’s lips moved gently over her palm as he picked up the piece of carrot.

  He turned his head to gaze at her while he crunched on it, and she could see herself reflected in his large brown eye. It was the eye with the gray patch, which made him look like a war pony to her.

  “Dad, I’m falling in love.”

  “What?” Concern echoed in that one-word question. “God, I hope not. You—”

  “With Calamity Sam,” she said before he could get any further into that response.

  “Oh. That’s different. But I’m afraid I can’t buy him for you. He’s worth a ton of money.”

  “I’m sure. He’s beautiful.” She didn’t ask what her father had thought she’d meant. It was all too obvious, and she didn’t want to discuss it.

  “He’s a good-looking colt, all right. Listen, sweetheart, since you have him eating out of your hand, I’m going to duck into the barn for a minute. Too much coffee this morning.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll watch over this guy.” After her dad left the corral, she gave Sam the other piece of carrot and finally got her wish of being able to stroke his soft neck. As she did, she talked softly to him and watched his ears flick back and forth as he l
istened to her, and then to other noises surrounding them.

  “Looks like you’ve made a conquest.”

  She turned to discover Clay leaning against the rail. He’d stripped off his shirt again and looked like a fantasy cowboy with his snug jeans and his hat brim shading his dark eyes. Her heart thudded faster, both because he was so yummy and because he was tempting fate to even be here talking to her.

  “You shouldn’t stay,” she said. “Dad will be back any minute.”

  “I’m sure he will. He doesn’t walk off a job. But I saw you here alone and wanted to…”

  “I know what you wanted. But it’s dangerous to spend much time talking to each other, when somebody around here knows what’s going on with us.”

  “You’re right.” He pushed away from the railing and his biceps flexed. “I’ll leave.”

  “Did you get the semen?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that AV heated?”

  “A little. There’s a surrounding cylinder for warm water. Why? Worried about the stallion’s comfort?”

  “It crossed my mind. I mean, how would you like somebody to shove your penis into a chilly artificial—”

  “Emmett’s coming back. See you later.”

  “Okay. And put on a shirt, will you? That’s unfair.”

  “You’re one to talk, standing there in shorts and a tight T-shirt.”

  “Bite me.”

  He kept his voice low. “If only I could. Later, sweet cheeks.” Clay waved to her dad. “Looks like Sam’s coming along, Emmett.”

  “I think he is,” he called back.

  Emily focused all her attention on Sam, rubbing his neck, scratching along the line of his mane, stroking his nose. “I think he likes me,” she said as her father approached.

  “I think he likes you a little bit too much, and I’m not talking about the horse.”

  “I know.” She didn’t look at him.

  “I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. The mistake your mother and I made was stupid, although I can’t regret it because it gave us you. But to see you make the same mistake…”

  “I won’t, Dad.”

  “I wish I could be sure of that.”

  She took a deep breath and faced him. “I know you worry about Clay because he’s an orphan and had such a difficult childhood, but he’s not as fragile as you might think.”

  Her dad gazed at her, his expression troubled. “Of course I’m worried about him. I think the world of Clay, but he’s not my kid. You are, and I don’t want you tangled up in a messy situation.”

  And all this time she’d thought he might take sides against her because Clay was the son he’d never had, the cowhand he wished his daughter would be. Her chest tightened as she realized that he really did love her unconditionally. She didn’t have to do anything special, or be anything special, to earn his love. She could make mistakes, and he’d still love her.

  Gratitude flooded through her. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Please be careful, sweetheart.” He held her gaze for a moment longer, and then he turned to Sam. “And this squirt needs a lot more work. We’d better get to it.”

  Emily was happy to return to Sam’s training. It was a blissfully simple job. Meanwhile her life was becoming so complicated it made her head hurt.

  Clay had a really bad feeling about how this day would end up, but he couldn’t do a damned thing to prevent the disaster he sensed was coming. So he tried not to make it any worse. He stayed as far away from Emily as possible for the rest of the morning. He even made a point of sitting at a different table during lunch.

  But then he remembered the rest of the birthday plan when Emmett was called away after lunch to fix a plumbing problem for Pam over at the Bunk and Grub. Clay’s determination to keep away from Emily was considerably weakened now that her primary watchdog was no longer on the premises. And the amount of time Emily would remain on the ranch grew less with every tick of the clock.

  Because both his hat and the screen had disappeared, he doubted that he’d be able to return to her room tonight. If he did, Emmett might be waiting with a shotgun. Maybe not literally, but the ease with which he’d made contact the night before wouldn’t be true tonight. He didn’t know that for sure, but he thought the odds were good he’d be shut out.

  Tomorrow Emmett would be on the ranch all day… and all night. The following day Emily would leave for Santa Barbara. The way Clay had it figured, he might have a window of opportunity this afternoon while Emmett was gone, and that would be it.

  But he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to get her alone, even for twenty minutes. Now that Emmett was gone, the ranch had turned into Operation Central for getting this cookout show on the road.

  Clay had been sent to the barn to organize saddles and make a list of who would ride which horse so mounting up would go like clockwork. Sarah didn’t want to have any confusion that would give Emmett an excuse to try and call the whole thing off. Meanwhile Emily was up at the house working on the food angle and helping load boxes and coolers.

  Fate seemed to be keeping them apart, and then, out of the blue, fate smiled on him. Emily appeared as he was counting saddles and making his list of guests and available horses.

  “Sarah has decided that we need tiki torches to keep away the mosquitoes,” she said. “We’re running out of time, so she’s commissioned you and me to drive quickly into town, pick up about ten from the feed store, and then go straight from there out to the picnic site and put them in the ground in a circle around the picnic area.”

  “Okay.”

  “She told me to make sure you didn’t get picked up for speeding, though.” Emily gazed at him. “Is that a problem with you?”

  “Sometimes. A lookout would be a help.” Clay calculated how fast he could drive and how much extra time he could buy them with this errand.

  Emily held out a roll of bills. “I have the money, and we’re supposed to leave right now.”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  “What, you need to finish your list?”

  “No, I need to get something from the bunkhouse.” He decided not to tell her what, because she might protest that they didn’t have time, but he’d make time. He could feel it running out, and he was a desperate man.

  “Okay, I’ll be in the truck. Hurry.”

  She didn’t have to tell him that. In this case, every minute counted. Throwing down his pen, he left the barn and jogged the distance to the bunkhouse. He passed Watkins on the way.

  “Could you finish up the list of which guest is riding which horse?”

  “I can.” Watkins smoothed his moustache. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  “Getting tiki torches to make a ring around the picnic site. For mosquitoes.”

  “I was wondering if anybody had thought of that. They could be bad out there.”

  “Sarah just thought of it.” And he mentally thanked her for that, plus her decision to send Emily with him to watch for cops. She hadn’t changed into jeans and boots yet, and that was all to the good.

  In the bunkhouse, each ranch hand had a small dresser for his clothes and personal items. Clay pulled out a drawer and grabbed one condom. That’s all he needed, all he had time for. He told himself to be grateful for this gift and not be greedy for more.

  Somehow, in the next few hours, he had a hunch everything would come to light and he wasn’t sure how he’d handle that with Emmett. But, as the old saying went, he might as well be hanged for a sheep as a goat. Maybe he was wrong and he’d find himself able to climb that ladder to Emily’s room tonight, after all.

  But his instincts were good, honed from years of making sure he survived in any environment. Those instincts told him that the shit was about to hit the fan. Before it did, he wanted one last moment with Emily.

  She was waiting in the navy blue truck when he hopped in and started the engine. “I think I know what you went for.”

  “You probably do.” He bac
ked the truck around and headed for the dirt road.

  “We don’t have time for that. We’ll do well to get the torches in the ground and return before my dad does.”

  He didn’t say anything, and kept his speed down until he was about a half-mile down the road, because he didn’t want to send dust billowing around the ranch house. But when he was far enough away that it wouldn’t be a problem, he hit the gas and sent up a rooster tail of dust.

  “Clay! What in God’s name are you doing?”

  He glanced over at her and couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “I’m hauling ass, sweet cheeks. Because we are going to use the condom in my pocket, or my name isn’t Clay Whitaker.”

  She gripped the door handle and pushed down the lock. “You’re going to end up in a ditch and break an axel, and then your name will be mud.”

  “No worries. When I first came to this ranch, there was a teenager living here by the name of Roni Kenway. She’s a mechanic on the NASCAR circuit now, but while she was here, she loved souping up the ranch trucks and challenging any takers to a race. She taught a bunch of us how to drive fast.”

  “Good grief. I had no idea you were Dale Earnhardt, Jr. in disguise.”

  “That’s why Sarah sent me, but having me get a ticket wouldn’t help, so when we get on the main road, you’ll need to keep your eyes peeled.”

  “Okay, but after we get those tiki torches, you’re not going to be able to drive like a bat out of hell. You can’t have them bouncing around and maybe breaking.”

  “Leave that to me. I’ll tie them down. Cowboys are good with rope.”

  “I still don’t see how we’ll have time to fool around. We have to fill the torches and plant them in the ground, you know.”

  He had that figured out, too. “We’ll have an assembly line. You fill and I’ll ram them in the dirt. There’s sort of a sexual rightness to that, don’t you think?”

  She shook her head. “I think you’re fixated on sex, so anything would be sexual to you.”