A Cowboy to Keep

by Karen Rock

  “Well, now, that’s a thing.” Nan shot him an approving look that reminded him of how his mother used to look at him—before. He glanced down fast, his throat swelling. “I’m sure Larry and Diane will be appreciative, since I overheard Mr. Graham’s call this morning. Milly doesn’t have another home to go to. And since she’s too old to be bred, the Mays might have to make a tough call...” Nan sniffled and looked away.

  “No!” Dani frowned and she smacked the side of her fist on the table, making her plate jump.

  He steadied her tipping cup of juice. “I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Dani brought up her napkin and pressed it to her eyes, nodding, unable to speak, it seemed. The need to save Milly, for the horse’s sake, and Dani’s, powered through him.

  Nan reached across the table and patted Dani’s arm. “See? Jack will take care of it.”

  “Thank you, Jack,” Dani said, then lowered the napkin, her wobbly smile plucking at his heart.

  He forced his eyes away from her. “Have you worked here a long time?” He cut into his waffle and lifted a dripping mouthful, Froot Loops sliding on top. The sweeter-than-sweet bite made his back teeth ache, but he forced it down when Dani hit him with an I-dare-you stare.

  “All my life.” Nan nibbled on a corn bread slice, her expression far away. “My mother got into trouble, as they used to say in the day, and Larry’s parents were kind enough to take her on. Of course, it didn’t hurt that they’d just lost their cook and my mama made the best green chili this side of the Mexican border. I’ll make it for you one of these days when my arthritis isn’t bothering.”

  “That’d be kind of you, though I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.” Jack swallowed another bite of the cereal-covered waffles and followed it, fast, with a sausage chaser. It really was awful, but with Dani watching, he wouldn’t wimp out.

  “No trouble at all,” promised Nan.

  “The Mays sound like good people to work for.”

  “Oh, yes. We’ve got a lot of return employees every season. Why, Smiley’s uncle, William, he worked here for over forty years.”

  At the name, Jack perked up and Dani leaned forward. “I never knew that,” she said.

  “Uh-huh. William was the salt of the earth. Smiley’s parents never could control him, or so they said, so they sent their son up here every summer to get him out in the fresh air.” She put a hand to the side of her mouth and lowered her voice. “Or to get him out of their hair. Anyways, he seemed happy enough, and Larry and Diane were glad for Ben to have a playmate. I guess they were a pair.”

  “Well. We’d better get going,” Dani said as she stood. “But we’ll stop by and catch up again soon, okay?”

  “Y’all have a good day.” Nan trotted out a smile and Jack returned it. He pushed back his chair and hustled after Dani.

  He caught up to her at the duck pond.

  “You’ll need to cover up that tattoo,” she said out of the side of her mouth, her eyes straight ahead, hair swinging as she walked.

  The memory of his brother shot him straight in the chest, the way it should, when he looked at it. “You mentioned that.”

  “And you haven’t complied.”

  He rolled down his plaid shirtsleeve. “Anything else, ma’am?” he asked.

  Her assessing eyes ran over him and every fiber of his nervous system leaped awake.

  “You could use a haircut.”

  He couldn’t resist pushing back the bangs that hid too much of her eyes. “So could you.”

  She snorted as pink rose in her cheeks. “Are you ready for today? We’re heading to a more remote part of the property and into the Pike National Forest. We sometimes encounter park visitors or workers, so there’s no telling who we might see.”

  “I intend on scouting for evidence of Smiley as we ride. It’ll give me a starting point for my search this afternoon.”

  She studied him for a long moment and nodded slowly, as if coming to some weighty decision. “I’ll be on the lookout.” The corners of her lips twitched when his mouth dropped open.

  After a few steps ahead, she turned, adding over her shoulder, “Partner.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “THE PEAK TO your right is Shawnee Mountain, the tallest mountain in the Front Range at 1,350 feet,” Dani narrated for the tour group behind her a half hour later.

  Her back swayed as Storm rounded a turn, the familiar rocking motion and the speech she used on the North Fork trail returning to her like old friends. If only the jitters that’d seized her after her impulsive decision to tell Jack she’d be his partner would disappear.

  Where had that impulse come from?

  She was the last person who should help him. Tanya and Smiley were her friends. Plus, she had a ton of work to do, not to mention the hypocrisy of a wanted woman helping to search for a man running from the law.

  But she couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed having him around.

  Scrub brush and saplings broke up the rocky outcropping to her left. Rosettes of yucca spiked beside indigo larkspur and wild primroses, whose pink petals surrounded yellow eyes. The soft, fresh air carried a hint of evergreen and her lungs expanded farther and farther.

  If she could inhale a perfect weather day like this, she would, to steady her jumpy nerves. Instead, she was conscious of Jack, riding behind the tour group, and the decision to join forces.

  The intimacy that created.

  She breathed deeply again, wishing the fresh-scrubbed air would cleanse the stain of her past, a mark she’d grown used to until Jack’s glaring presence spotlighted it again.

  Now she couldn’t stop seeing the imprint of her old ways. Could her impromptu offer to be his partner in crime fighting come from a need for redemption? A wish to erase that blemish at last? Maybe. But most important, she needed to help him finish his business here, to get rid of him, despite her growing feelings.

  “We’ve heard all this before,” complained Mr. Clark, who’d been in a bad mood since she’d told him that she and Jack, rather than Smiley, would take him fly-fishing later this week. “What else is there?”

  She mentally counted backward from ten. What did he expect after visiting here, at the exact same time, for so many years? Maybe they should have arranged for a meteor strike to shake things up. Then she could have said, “If you keep your eyes open folks, you’ll see the large gaping hole where western Colorado used to be.”

  Ugh.

  “Well. We’re coming on a great view of the Continental Divide.” The horses clomped onto an arched wooden foot bridge over a creek off the north fork of the South Platt River.

  “Cool! I want to swim. I want to swim!” hollered Mr. Clark’s eight-year-old son, Dakota.

  She twisted around in her seat and her breath caught when the child leaned sideways out of his saddle. His otherwise Zen quarter horse, a large, placid animal named Tiny who was extremely good with kids—usually—sidestepped, the whites of his eyes showing.

  “Straight in the saddle,” barked Jack, and the boy snapped upright.

  Phew. If Mr. Clark was difficult, his kids were downright impossible. His older girl, Cheyenne, used to be a terror. Now a teenager, she’d sunk into a silent sulk that closely resembled a catatonic state.

  At the crest of an incline, Dani pulled up Storm at a wider part of the trail and waited for the group to catch up. “The spectacular landscape of this forest was shaped by continental and alpine glaciers, and it’s a great place to take some pictures.”

  “Are you kidding?” She turned to see a frowning Mr. Clark. He had close-set, sunken eyes, a blond comb-over and a broad face the color of an artificial tan left on ten minutes too long. “We’ve got dozens of these pictures.”

  “Reginald.” His wife spoke up, a bone-thin woman with a
n immobile face. Her skin was so tight she looked like she’d been shrink-wrapped.

  “What?” When he gestured, a gold watch flashed on his wrist. “I’m paying for this. I’ve got rights!”

  To be verbally abusive? Apparently that’s what he thought, since his wife subsided and Dani’s pinned-on smile began to feel maniacal. Since her spontaneous promise to Jack, she’d found it hard to concentrate and project an easygoing, cheerful, tour-guide persona.

  “Happy to escort you back to the ranch, Mr. Clark,” Jack drawled, the firmness in his voice making the offer sound more like a threat.

  Everyone turned to look in his direction, and even Cheyenne stopped playing with the ends of her hair.

  “Well, no. This is what I came for,” sputtered Mr. Clark. His mount, Reba, bobbed her head, and her tail flicked at the gathering flies.

  “Good to hear,” Jack said. His warm brown eyes clamped on hers and she returned his quick smile.

  “How much longer do we have to do this?” griped Dakota. He scratched at a scab on his knee until a trickle of blood oozed from it. To Dani’s dismay, Mr. and Mrs. Clark acted as though they didn’t notice.

  “We’re going to stop in a few minutes for our picnic lunch,” she said smoothly, reaching behind her for a Band-Aid in her pack and passing it to Mr. Clark. He looked at it, shrugged and handed it over to his wife, who shoved it in her pocket.

  Okay, then.

  She squeezed her knees and urged Storm forward.

  “What are we eating?” whined Dakota. “Because—”

  “Bugs,” Jack interrupted, and she smiled to herself at his shut-it-down tone. The kid quieted. Then laughed.

  “Bugs, huh? Like ants? I saw once on TV that they dipped them in chocolate. Hey this could be like Survivor. Can I vote Dad out of the tribe?”

  “Hush, Dakota,” murmured Mrs. Clark halfheartedly, her voice faint, as though she was phoning it in. Long distance. Overseas, even.

  “Or maybe we can pretend we’re the guy on that show Wild,” came Dakota’s megaphone voice, so loud it roused roosting mourning doves. “That’s a cool show.”

  “Nature sucks,” Cheyenne snapped with the absolute authority only teens could muster about huge, sweeping topics they knew little about.

  “Did you know that if you lick an aspen leaf it’ll stick to your face?” she heard Jack say.

  Dani’s mouth dropped open. Where was her monosyllabic midnight cowboy? Who was this sincere, knowledgeable man, at ease in the saddle and with others?

  She heard a whinny that sounded like Tiny and peeked over her shoulder to see Dakota yanking on the reins as he bounced in his saddle, a sweeping vista of the Platt River valley below. “I want to try that.”

  “Ease up, bud,” Jack said. Then, “If you peel off ponderosa pine bark, it smells like butterscotch.”

  “Butterscotch is pretty cool,” muttered Cheyenne.

  “Oh!” hollered Dakota. “Please can we stop? Please!”

  “We’re coming up on our picnic spot in a few minutes.” She turned in the saddle and met Jack’s eyes. Some unspoken communication, an understanding, a camaraderie, flickered between them, subtle but strong.

  Partners.

  The horses kicked up small stones and dirt clouds as the path dipped downward. Sun rays spiraled through the green canopy overhead that kept them cool on such a bright day.

  “We’re entering the Pike National Forest, which borders on the ranch and Highway 67.”

  She pointed to a large, log-hewn cabin with a gift shop sign hanging from hinges beside its green door. “The cabin you see there was owned by Samuel Pike, who donated a great deal of the acreage that is now protected forest. This preserve serves as a refuge for mule deer, mountain lions, elk, black bears, prairie rattlesnakes and, at higher elevations, big horn sheep and mountain goats.”

  “Heard all that before,” complained Mr. Clark, and Dani pressed her lips together for fear her mutinous thoughts would tumble right out of them. He acted like he hated this spot. Given all of his money, why did he come here?

  “And someone’s got to get Smiley for me,” her cantankerous guest continued. “We have an agreement to meet this time every year. I expected to see him.”

  “What kind of agreement?” Jack asked, his tone too casual to her ear.

  “It’s a...a...business arrangement. Services. You know.”

  “Just fishing?” Jack asked, his tone bland.

  “Well. What else would it be?” Mr. Clark blustered, and then an awkward silence descended. Hoof beats and birdcalls rose in the sudden quiet. Why did he sound so defensive? Could Mr. Clark have something to do with Smiley? Was he the person Jack suspected Smiley had come to meet?

  Dani shook the ridiculous thought away. Now she sounded as suspicious as Jack. Mr. Clark might be a pain in the butt, a rich and entitled one, but certainly not the criminal type.

  The next thought stopped her cold. She hadn’t thought that about Kevin, or Tanya, either. And Tanya had looked guilty of something. Tonight she would speak to her friend alone and get to the bottom of it, for Tanya’s sake and for Jack’s...and her own.

  “I want to do something fun!” the boy complained again.

  No one answered.

  “Let’s pull up here for a moment,” Jack called, and she turned to shoot him a puzzled look before bringing Storm to a stop beside a clump of aspens in a small clearing.

  She dismounted, let Storm loose since it was frowned upon to tie up horses in the national forest and helped Dakota off Tiny, who appeared slightly spooked, given the battering he’d been getting on this ride.

  Cheyenne slid off her horse in a boneless move and slumped against a large boulder jutting from the ground, her cell phone already in hand, her face covered by her tangle of long hair as she jabbed at the screen. She stopped then held the phone aloft in search of the ever elusive signal.

  Overhead, eagles rode air currents, and a squirrel froze in place a few yards away. Bees hovered over a patch of fragrant mouse-eared chickweed.

  Mr. Clark jumped down from his horse, making it sidestep, and he held out a hand to his wife, who sort of tumbled off her mount. Her designer sunglasses flew and she jerked out of his arms to grab them. She was relieved when the Clarks disappeared from view, arguing, oblivious, like the rest of the family, to the natural wonders surrounding them.

  Jack held his palm against the dry bark of one of the aspens, then strode back to Pokey. Dakota grew silent and even Cheyenne thrust her cell in her pocket and watched. Jack pressed his hand against Pokey’s back end. When Jack stepped back, a chalky white outline of his hand stood out on the horse’s buff coat.

  “Wow!” Dakota jumped up and down and raced to an aspen. He pressed his hand against it and bolted straight at Tiny, whose ears flattened. Jack caught him neatly around the waist, checking his forward momentum by sweeping him off his feet so that he hung in midair, arms outstretched.

  “Slow and easy around horses, squirt,” Jack said with warm humor and patience. He was good with kids. He set the boy back down and they walked together, sedately, up to Tiny. A squall of affection erupted inside her at the endearing sight.

  A few minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Clark still hadn’t returned from their private talk. Handprints covered the horses and Cheyenne stood a bit away, inhaling a piece of ponderosa pine bark, her eyes half-closed as she said, “Butterscotch.”

  An aspen leaf stuck to Dakota’s face and he slapped another onto Jack’s cheek as the man sat patiently, tolerating the assault.

  “Are you a bad guy?” asked the boy, peeling back one of the leaves and touching Jack’s scar.

  He studied his hands a moment, and her chest tightened at the way this question seemed to shake him. “Maybe,” he said, without looking up. “I haven’t always done good.”

 
The boy sighed and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Me, neither. Does that mean I’m bad?”

  Jack seemed to have trouble speaking, and when his voice emerged, it sounded hoarse. “No. No, it doesn’t.”

  What bad things had Jack done? Did he have regrets, like she did? Something had propelled him from ranch owner to bounty hunter and she burned to know the reason. She sensed a dark story, and a sudden wish to share her own with him rose.

  But she couldn’t trust him. Not a man who saw things in black-and-white. His life’s mission revolved around ensuring others faced judgment.

  He’d never understand.

  “I don’t think you’re bad, either.” Dakota clambered atop a boulder and stuck a fist in the air, the other on his cocked hip. “You’re one of the good guys!”

  Jack’s head still hung but his eyes rose. “How do you know?” His strangled words pressed on her heart. How often had she asked this question of herself?

  Every day.

  “’Cause I can tell!” Then, with the lightning quick leaps only kids can make, Dakota hurtled off the rock and shouted, “Can we eat? I want peanut butter and jelly.”

  Jack stood. “Back on the horses, then.”

  To her amazement, both children hustled to their mounts, checking for Jack’s approving nod, as if they wanted to impress him. She shared the sentiment, not that a bounty hunter would ever look favorably on an on-the-lam bank robbery getaway driver.

  Nope.

  Better to keep these growing feelings to herself.

  She called for the Clarks, got them situated and they took off again, the tour going smoothly, thanks to Jack.

  “You’ll see another of the old copper mine shafts ahead.” Dani returned to narrating. “The mines in this area...”

  “I want copper!” exclaimed Dakota.

  Dani and Storm passed a bush and a long dark stick, poking through the bottom branches, caught her eye. Storm’s ears shot up, then lay flat as she hesitated, assessing the threat, breaking her gait slightly then resuming when Dani clucked to her, reassuring her that it wasn’t a rattler.