Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler

by Darlene Panzera

  Bree used to feel the same way. Today she focused on the corral in front of her where Sammy Jo was going to work out a few of their horses. Because Luke couldn’t and she wouldn’t. “We’ve hired Ryan Tanner to be our weekend wrangler.”

  “Ryan will be great,” Sammy Jo assured her.

  “He wants me to help him train his new filly.” Bree glanced over at Sammy Jo and held her gaze. “You know how hard that’s going to be for me?”

  “I know how you feel about him,” Sammy Jo gushed. “But he’s changed. Ryan’s not the same attention-­getting guy we knew back in high school. He’s calmed down a lot and keeps to himself most of the time. Working with him won’t be so bad.”

  “Let’s hope,” Bree said, giving her a half grin. “But I was actually referring to how hard it’s going to be working with the filly.”

  TWO DAYS AFTER making the deal with Bree, Ryan rose early, entered the Tanner kitchen, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He glanced out the window for a sign of her truck and then realized he still had another fifteen minutes before she was due to arrive for the filly’s first training session.

  The thought of teaching young ones to behave got him thinking about his own son, and how awkward it had been to drive him to Mitch Wyllie’s house the night before. Cody’s apology wasn’t heartfelt, but he did it, and when the other kid’s outraged parents demanded Ryan pay the uncovered portion of their son’s medical bill, he’d lightened his wallet. At least when they left, that particular situation had been resolved. But when Ryan tried to get Cody to talk about his mother on the way home? The stilted, one-­sided conversation had only led to more awkwardness.

  Telling him man-­to-­man that he should never throw the first punch was one thing, but talking about how to deal with the fact his mother left them was another. What advice could he offer his son, other than “buck up and don’t ever let a woman in close enough to break your heart again”?

  It worked for him, but he feared a counselor might argue that a young boy could benefit from the presence of a woman in his life other than his schoolteacher and two grandmas. Someone with less of a generational gap who had the energy and heart-­tugging resolve to play games no matter how busy, bake cookies for an entire class at the last minute, and provide the safety and permanence his son could rely on 24/7. Someone who was strong enough to discipline, but who would also be there to love and support him unconditionally no matter what lay ahead as he grew from a child into a young man.

  Someone to whom he could give a Mother’s Day card.

  With a jolt Ryan jumped back to the present, and took another quick glance at the clock. Bree still had a few minutes to show. But what if she didn’t? What if she found another wrangler for her family’s guest ranch and backed out of their deal? The possibility weighed heavy in his gut, sinking him into a chair beside the window. Footsteps sounded behind him and his mother came into the room, her brown curls disheveled but still holding shape from the night before.

  “How was your high school reunion?” he asked, searching her face for a telltale clue.

  She sighed, indicating the evening hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. “The dinner was nice, the hotel looked lovely, but . . . ­people change. Some of them just aren’t as much fun as they used to be.”

  Ryan hoped Bree hadn’t changed too much, at least when it came to her skill with horses. He was counting on having her train the filly. If she could do that, he’d be a happy man.

  The phone rang and he jumped up to answer, praying Bree wasn’t calling to cancel at the last minute. To his relief, he was greeted by his aunt instead.

  “How’s the training coming?” she asked.

  Ryan glanced out the window again and his pulse kicked up a notch at the sight of Bree’s red truck creeping up the dirt driveway. “It’s coming,” he assured her. “I had a little trouble at first, but I expect a significant turnaround within the next few days.”

  “Knowing the horses are in your capable hands makes me feel so much better.”

  Aunt Mary sounded tired and Ryan’s throat tightened. “How is your health holding up?”

  “Got to admit I’m a bit weaker today.” She paused, then continued, “But we all have both good days and bad days, don’t we? Been living that way most of my life.”

  “If you’re up to it, why don’t you come over next week and see how the filly is doing for yourself?” Ryan suggested.

  “I will,” Aunt Mary promised. “Seeing you work with my Morning Glory will make for a very good day.”

  After he hung up, he realized his mother had opened the door for three visitors who waited for him on the other side of the kitchen. All three women sported expensive name brand clothing and expectant expressions. One of them, Ms. Kincaid, was a curvaceous blond who had spoken to him the week before about buying a horse he had been able to train.

  “Have you made up your mind about the gray gelding?” he asked her.

  “Not yet.” Ms. Kincaid walked forward and looped her arm through his. “I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to show the horse to my friends—­to help me make a decision.”

  “Of course,” he said, ignoring the appraising gazes of all three women. “Right this way.”

  As they stepped out of the house, Ryan caught sight of Bree coming toward them. “I’ll be with you in just a minute,” he told her. “I just have to show these ladies a horse in the barn.”

  “I’ll bet,” Bree retorted, and pursed her lips.

  Ryan faltered in his step and frowned. Was she mad at him?

  “C’mon, Ryan,” Ms. Kincaid crooned. “You don’t want to keep me waiting or I might just change my mind.”

  He watched Ms. Kincaid’s friends nod. Then he caught Bree rolling her eyes. And he knew. Her problem was with the other women.

  He slipped his arm out of Ms. Kincaid’s grasp and motioned to his brother, who he spotted by the corral a short distance away. “Josh, can you escort these ladies to the barn to see Rocky?”

  Josh tossed the coiled rope in his hands over one of the corral’s wooden fence posts and, with a wide grin, tipped his hat back and gave each of the three women a quick perusal. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Ms. Kincaid’s smile faded, then perked back up again once she laid eyes on Josh. “Why, he’s as handsome as you are,” she mused. “Thank you, Ryan. We’ll talk to you later.”

  “Only if you’re interested in buying.”

  “I’m interested,” Ms. Kincaid assured him. “Can we sign papers tomorrow when I come back with my trailer?”

  “Tomorrow, it is,” he said, and stepped back. “Until then, have a good day.”

  After the women left for the barn with Josh, Bree twisted the foal-­sized halter she carried around in her hands and shook her head. “You are a charmer.”

  Ryan didn’t think she meant it as a compliment. “It’s just business.”

  “Yes. Of course,” Bree agreed. “Kind of early, though, to be coming by to look at a horse, don’t you think?”

  He had to agree and realized Ms. Kincaid hadn’t come over to take another peek at the horse; she’d come to take another peek at him. At a time when the woman knew he’d be available.

  Bree cast him a questioning sideways glance to further press her point, and he cleared his throat and grinned. “Should we get to work?”

  ONCE THEY WERE inside the stable, Ryan took Bree to the tack room where they gathered a bucket of brushes and other grooming supplies. Then he led her down the aisle to the end stall. As they approached, the mare kicked the wooden half door with a loud bang.

  “She saw me,” he said, taking a step back.

  “She’s afraid.” Digging in the bucket, Bree picked up a currycomb.

  Ryan frowned. Bree’s hand was shaking. Seemed like she was afraid, too.

  “I really appreciate you doing this,” he said, f
lattening himself against the sidewall out of the mare’s line of sight and edging closer. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “The most important thing is to establish trust,” Bree said, meeting his gaze.

  Ryan froze. Was she talking about her relationship with him or the horse?

  Bree looked away first. “Of course you knew that,” she muttered. “Everyone knows that.”

  She took a step toward the stall. Stopped. Glanced at him. Then she drew in a deep breath, repeated, “Trust,” and took another step forward.

  Whoa! Why was she so nervous? Bree might be rusty, but she’d worked with horses hundreds of times. It couldn’t be them. Was it him? Did he make her nervous?

  The mare popped her head over the half door, spotted him again, and, with a sharp, high-­pitched squeal, kicked the inside of the stall with a bang! bang! bang!

  He certainly made the mare nervous. “Maybe I should leave,” Ryan suggested.

  “No.” Bree shook her head. “Don’t go.”

  “But—­”

  “What’s the mare’s name?” she asked, changing the subject.

  He smirked. “Angel.”

  “And the filly?”

  “Morning Glory.”

  “Appropriate.” A flicker of a smile crossed her face, and then Bree reached out and touched the mare’s nose. “That’s a good girl.”

  The mare nuzzled her hand and Bree moved closer to greet the filly by the mother’s side. But Ryan heard the baby’s irritated squeal, followed by a loud scuffle.

  Ryan stood up on tiptoes, but because of his distance he couldn’t see. “What was that?”

  “Morning Glory darted away from me.” Bree slid the latch and opened the stall door just wide enough to squeeze inside. “Come here, little one.”

  Ryan heard another scuffle and a groan from Bree. He jumped forward. “Are you all right?”

  The mare flattened her ears back and glared at him until he retreated.

  “Yeah.” Her voice wavered, and turned wistful. “I just want to touch you.”

  Ryan raised his brows, and then realized Bree had resumed talking to the filly, not him. He grinned, wondering if Bree knew it sounded like she was flirting. Of course she didn’t. Her attention was focused entirely on the foal, not him.

  More squeals from the filly. A ­couple of soft thuds. Bree reemerged from the stall with her brows drawn but her expression changed to one of surprise as her gaze slipped past him.

  Ryan turned around and saw Cody and his dog standing a few feet back. “Bree, this is my son, Cody, and—­”

  The border collie bolted toward Bree, and Ryan was afraid the black and white slobbery beast was going to knock her down, but Bree knelt in the dirt and accepted her attacker with open arms. “Annabelle!”

  Cody gasped. “You know her?”

  Annabelle licked Bree’s face, and Bree laughed as she rubbed the top of the dog’s head. “I’ve seen her around.”

  Ryan turned toward his son. “Cody, this is Bree.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cody,” Bree said with a nod.

  Cody wasn’t as excited to meet her as his dog was. He kept his distance. “My dad says you used to live here, but then you moved to New York. Do you miss New York?”

  Ryan leaned in to listen, and watched her expression turn grave as she shook her head.

  “New York wasn’t all you thought?” Ryan couldn’t help himself. He had to ask.

  “No, definitely not.” She cast him a quick glance. “And my family needs me, so I said I’d stay.”

  Cody narrowed his gaze. “But why are you here?”

  Bree waved her hand toward the stall. “Training horses. Do you want to help?”

  Cody shook his head, his gaze wary, and tossed her words back at her. “No. Definitely not.”

  Then with a whistle for his dog to follow, Cody turned his booted feet around and ran off before Ryan could do anything to stop him.

  “He looks like you,” Bree said as she tossed the unused currycomb back into the grooming bucket. “But he acts like your mare.”

  Ryan felt his gut tighten. “What do you mean?”

  She smiled, and a light entered her eyes as she turned toward him. “You have a mare who’s afraid of men, and a son who’s afraid of women.”

  “Cody’s not afraid,” he told her. “Just . . . cautious.”

  “Me, too. There’s just so many memories from the past. I’m afraid if I get too close, too attached, I’ll—­”

  “Get hurt again?”

  “Yes.”

  He held her gaze. “You are talking about the horses, aren’t you?”

  She blushed furiously. “Of course.”

  But she glanced away and he knew she wasn’t telling him everything.

  Bree moved away from the mare’s stall and inched closer. “I heard about . . . what happened. A little. From what Sammy Jo and Delaney have told me. Gail left when he was three?”

  Ryan studied her arched brow and read the lingering questions written on her face. “You’re wondering why we divorced?”

  She shrugged and Ryan folded his arms over his chest. “Gail left town one day, and never looked back. She said she needed a fresh start . . . just like Bree Collins.”

  Bree gave him a startled look. “Did she say that?”

  Ryan held her gaze and nodded.

  “When I left town I didn’t have any commitments,” Bree said in defense. “I didn’t walk out on a marriage . . . or a child. And I certainly never meant to inspire—­” She stared at him, her eyes wide.

  Ryan shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. She made her own choice.”

  “A bad one,” Bree added, her voice dropping low.

  He waved his hand toward her. “So what about you?”

  She hesitated. “What about me?”

  “I guess you’ll leave again after your father is healed?”

  Bree frowned. “I never said that.”

  “I guess I assumed.”

  “My grandmother made me, Luke, and Delaney co-­owners of Collins Country Cabins,” she confided.

  This time Ryan gave a start. “But . . . you’ve always wanted the big-­city career. Is running a guest ranch in Fox Creek going to be enough for you?”

  Bree shrugged. “For now.”

  “So you’d leave here, if offered another dream job?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Why all the questions?”

  Ryan grinned. “Just trying to figure you out, Bree, the same way you’re trying to do to me.”

  “Fair enough,” she said, lifting her chin. “But I think that’s enough information for one day, don’t you?”

  “Fair enough,” Ryan agreed, and pointed to the mare’s stall. “If you don’t want to talk, how about you try that trust technique with the filly one more time?”

  Bree’s expression froze, and as Ryan watched her attempt—­and fail—­to connect with the horses again and again he realized she’d never be able to train his aunt’s filly if her heart wasn’t in it. Animals picked up on body language and emotion better than most humans, and her distant demeanor was making the mare nervous, which in turn made the filly turn tail and run. As a horse trainer, she must know that, so what was stopping her?

  She had to want to establish a relationship.

  Ryan heard the filly let out another high-­pitched squeal and made up his mind to help. He might not be able to get close to the horses, but he could get close to Bree.

  And although he knew there might be some risk involved, he was determined to show her the benefits of opening her heart up to someone again.

  Chapter Five

  BREE ESCORTED NORA and Nadine around the guest cabins, her mind not on training the new recruits, but on her training session with the filly in Ryan’s stable.
What if she’d lost her touch? Morning Glory had wanted to play games, so she’d gone along with it, hoping the foal would think she was fun. But in the end she and the filly still hadn’t established a bond of trust.

  Worse, Ryan had given her a look she’d often seen on her father’s face. A look that said he didn’t trust her either, and that he was seriously worried about her ability to train.

  But she wouldn’t give up. She refused to give up. Next time she went over to the Tanners’ Triple T ranch she’d win the filly’s approval. And Ryan’s, too.

  Shocked by her own thoughts, she snapped out of her reverie.

  “Are you okay, Ms. Collins?” Nora asked with concern. “Because you just put the bath towels in the refrigerator and then—­”

  “Your whole face just turned red,” Nadine finished. “We usually keep our bath towels in a cabinet, but if you want us to place them in the refrigerator, we will.”

  Bree laughed at her own foolishness, then opened the fridge and retrieved the fluffy, terry cloth stack. “No. Sorry, I guess I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll need you to stock all twenty-­four cabins with towels—­and please place them in the hall closet.”

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Collins,” Nora said. “You can count on us to—­”

  “Make the beds, remove the trash, and clean out the fireplace before each guest arrives,” Nadine said cheerfully.

  “The fireplaces don’t need cleaning,” Bree told her. “They use gas. My mother thought they’d be more efficient and still add rustic charm.” Her gaze swept past the natural stone mantel and the snarling grizzly bear head mounted on the pine wall, to the green curtains, and lastly to the pinecone patterned bedspread. “Make sure you leave a hard peppermint candy on each pillow and—­”

  “Will you look at that,” one twin exclaimed, opening the cabin door and dropping her bundle of towels on the dusty front porch.

  “Nora!” Bree pointed. “Look what you’ve done. Those will all have to be rewashed.”

  “Sorry.” The ponytailed teen’s tone was filled with remorse. “Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Me neither,” said the other. “Because she’s not Nora, I am. And wow. Look outside! Big thumbs-­up for the old guy in the brown chaps!”