Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler

by Darlene Panzera

  “And for the record,” Bree continued, slipping her hand out of his, “I didn’t think it would work either. Let’s see what the mare does when I step away.”

  The minute Bree moved away from Ryan, the mare’s eyes widened and her ears went back. A second later, a loud kick sounded against the half door. Bree came back toward Ryan and Angel relaxed her stance.

  Ryan grinned. “I guess we have to stay together.”

  “We were both right,” Bree said in amazement. “It’s not just the smell of the soap but the fact I’m with you that keeps her calm.”

  Ryan didn’t think the soap had anything to do with it; the mare had simply been paying attention to their body language. But he didn’t want to argue with Bree. He didn’t try to touch Angel either. It was enough that both Bree and the mare had let him draw this close. “I think that’s enough for one day,” Ryan said. “I don’t want to do anything else that might compromise the progress we’ve made.”

  “Do you want me to stay and work with the mare and filly alone?” Bree asked.

  “Why don’t we saddle two other horses and ride up to the ridge—­”

  “I’ll work with your horses,” Bree said, cutting him off. “But I won’t ride.”

  Cody entered the stable carrying one of his dog’s puppies and handed the wriggling black and white ball to Bree. “Happy Birthday!” Cody exclaimed, a huge smile lighting his face.

  “This little guy is for me?” Bree pet the border collie pup’s head, but the wariness behind her words said she was hesitant to bring another animal into her life . . . or her heart.

  Cody nodded. “He’s a present from me and my dad.”

  With a jolt Ryan wondered if Bree would refuse the gift, hurt his son’s feelings . . . but she took one look at Cody’s expectant face and smiled. “He’s adorable! Thank you. I think I’ll call him Boots for his four little white paws.”

  She smiled again, this time a smile that was genuine as the puppy squirmed in her arms and stretched up to lick the underside of her chin. She laughed and Cody laughed with her, his eyes shining with delight at her delight. Ryan watched the tops of their light brown heads draw together over the puppy and his chest tightened. Bree was similar enough in appearance that an outsider might think she was his—­

  He sucked in his breath as Cody pulled out the card he’d made in school and Bree read, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

  His face burned as Bree’s gaze shot past Cody and landed on him.

  “It’s supposed to say ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” he choked out. “Cody, didn’t we talk about that?”

  Cody shrugged. “Yeah, but I didn’t know how to change it.”

  “It’s fine,” Bree assured them each with a sudden smile. “It’s a wonderful card. Look at all the colorful hearts and different animals.”

  “That one there,” Cody said, sidling up to her and pointing to the crayon drawings, “is your puppy. And the other ones are all your puppy’s brothers and sisters. My dog, Annabelle, is here in the corner.”

  “Looks like one big happy family.” Bree shot Ryan another look over his son’s head and her fingers holding the card shook.

  She isn’t ready to be part of one big happy family. The knowledge shook Ryan as well. And he realized how dangerous her continued presence could be for his son. Already since Bree had come back she’d decided the role of ranch manager wasn’t enough. She had to have more. According to her father, she now wanted to open her own boot bling business. Tomorrow she might want to do something else.

  Ryan’s insides twisted and turned. Someone like Bree would never settle for simply staying in one spot to be a wife and mom. She’d always be chasing the next dream that came her way. What if Cody got close to her and then Bree decided to go back to the city? Ryan set his jaw, his stomach churning. His son would see her departure as a repeat of his mother’s actions and be hurt all over again. So would he.

  No. He had to talk to her about Cody . . . before it was too late.

  BREE WAS STILL unsure about accepting the puppy when her family gathered together in their living room and her father announced he was giving her a horse. Not just any horse either, but Equinox, the red roan in Serenity’s stall.

  “Equinox is sure-­footed and fast,” her father said, his face beaming with pride as if he’d given her the best gift imaginable.

  She glanced at Luke and Delaney, who looked as horrified as she felt. Grandma gasped, then placed a hand over her chest and murmured, “God help us.”

  But her mother appeared oblivious to their startled reactions. “I think it’s a wonderful gift. Very thoughtful, Jed.”

  Thoughtful? After what he’d done to her last horse? Did he think he could just give her another to make up for it?

  “What’s the matter?” her father demanded, his smile switching to a scowl as his gaze bored into her. “My gift isn’t good enough?”

  She cringed. “Dad, I’m sorry but I . . . I don’t want a horse. I thought you knew that. I thought you knew why.”

  “I do know why,” he said haughtily. “You’re afraid if you get too attached you’ll have to stay.”

  Bree shook her head. “I already said I’d stay.”

  Her father let out a low grunt. “But with no strings attached it would be easy to pick up and leave again, wouldn’t it?”

  “That’s not why I don’t want a horse,” Bree said, her voice cracking.

  “I should have known you wouldn’t be appreciative,” her father snapped, spinning his wheelchair away from her and resuming his position along the outer perimeter of the family circle. “You never appreciate anything I do for you.”

  Bree’s eyes stung and her throat ran dry. She didn’t mean to offend her father, but he had offended her with his gift . . . and didn’t even realize it.

  “How could you do this?” Delaney cried, stepping toward him. “Have you no compassion?”

  “Of course I have compassion,” their father barked. “That’s why I gave her a horse—­because she didn’t have one. I thought she’d enjoy riding again.”

  “Please don’t fight,” Ma pleaded. “Let’s not ruin Bree’s birthday!”

  “Too late,” Luke said, shaking his head.

  Their dad glared at him. “I thought the horse would make her happy.”

  “Now none of us are happy,” Delaney said, and pointed at her daughter. “Look! You made Meghan cry.”

  Bree started to cry, too, and her grandma shook her fist at all of them. “I knew this would happen. The ranch is falling apart, the family is falling apart, and it’s all because everyone has stopped going to church on Sunday.”

  “We’ve only missed two weeks!” Ma protested. “We’re busy and it’s hard for Jed to get in and out of the truck with his broken leg.”

  “This family had problems before Dad ever fell off his horse,” Luke said, his voice hard.

  “What problems?” Ma demanded.

  Grandma looked heavenward and sighed. “And here I thought the lavender soaps I placed all over the house would help calm everyone down.”

  “This house stinks,” Bree’s father grumbled.

  “Maybe we should consider selling.” Ma pulled a card from her pocket and Bree leaned in to take a closer look. Her mother had taped together the realtor’s business card she’d ripped up.

  “You pulled his card out of the trash? Why did you do that?” She stared at her mother and gestured toward Luke and Delaney. “We can turn this ranch around, but you haven’t even given the three of us a chance.”

  “A chance to screw it up even more?” her father demanded. “I must have taken too many meds when I agreed to let your grandma divide the ranch into equal shares.”

  “Agreed?” Luke demanded. “She said it was your idea.”

  This time Grandma started to cry. Luke stomped out the door with his cane. Delane
y made for the stairs to her room, towing her daughter along behind her. And Bree escaped to the laundry room where her new puppy lay in a basket lined with soft towels. She brought the warm, wriggling black and white fur ball up to her chest, hugged it tight, and sighed.

  What would it take for her parents to finally believe in her?

  The following morning, Bree hiked the path along the river, passing all twenty-­four square, wood-­shingled cabins, and headed across the field toward the far end of the property where she’d heard Luke had set up camp.

  While he couldn’t ride a horse or drive a licensed road vehicle, her brother had found he could still operate their small ranch Gator by reaching his left foot over to step on the gas pedal instead of his right. And although Bree would have liked to keep the motorized cart at the ranch full time, she hadn’t wanted to deny her brother his only source of mobile freedom.

  However, maybe if she had, he wouldn’t have set up his camp so far away and she wouldn’t have had so much delay.

  The three CEOs had stopped her to ask when she’d have more jewelry. The argumentative ­couple occupying her old bedroom finally showed some unity by asking when they could go on a trail ride together. And the Walford twins, Nora and Nadine, had rattled off a list of complaints from the other groups of guests. But Bree’s only concern right now was to make her grandma happy by convincing her brother to move back into the house.

  After the family spat in the living room, Luke had packed his duffel bag and left, saying he needed his own space. Bree didn’t blame him. Part of her wished she could do the same thing. But she also knew the ranch was all they had and the only way to make their business together work was to iron out their differences.

  Her cell phone buzzed and she pushed the tab for messages to read Sammy Jo’s text. Coming home soon. LYLAS.

  What did LYLAS stand for? Knowing Sammy Jo, the letters could stand for anything.

  The capital letters reminded her of the ones drawn in crayon on Cody’s card. She had been on the verge of inviting Ryan and Cody to her twenty-­seventh birthday party, but changed her mind at the last minute. Good decision. Not only because of the way her party had ended, but after getting a Mother’s Day card from Ryan’s son, she didn’t want to give Ryan the wrong idea . . . didn’t want him to think she could take Gail’s place in their lives. She wasn’t ready to be in love again, let alone be a mother.

  She thought of Delaney and Meghan and how strong their bond was to one another. Then she thought of Serenity, and her new puppy. Her father had been right about one thing—­animals were too easy to become attached to. Their emotions were real. When they trusted you, you could trust them. And when they loved . . .

  Bree’s heart wrenched. Someday she hoped she would love again . . . and be loved in return. Unquestionably. Unconditionally. With undying trust and devotion.

  That day wasn’t today.

  She walked on and tried to text Sammy Jo back to ask what the letters meant, but the screen suddenly said, No ser­vice. She glanced around, taking in the vast fields and rolling hills around her and remembered this was a dead cell zone. You’re not in New York anymore, she told herself with a sigh. Pocketing the useless device, she spotted Luke’s olive drab, triangular, military surplus tent a short distance away.

  What if there was an emergency at the ranch and she couldn’t get ahold of him?

  “All you’d have to do is blow this whistle,” Luke said, handing her one from his duffel bag when she brought up the subject a few minutes later.

  She sat beside him on the blanket beside his small campfire.

  “What will I tell Grandma?” Bree insisted. “When you packed up and left, she thought you were catching the next bus out of Fox Creek.”

  “Tell her I love her, but that doesn’t mean we have to live together.” Luke stuck a few more sticks into the flames. “I want to make Collins Country Cabins work as much as you do, but Dad doesn’t ever let us make our own decisions.”

  Bree nodded. “I know. Which is why I don’t understand how he could trust Wade and Sue Randall to be ranch managers in the first place. Seems he’s willing to let others make decisions but not his own children.”

  “He keeps pushing and pushing . . . issuing orders, doing whatever he thinks is right,” Luke continued. “That’s why I left home after graduation like you did. I figured if I was going to take orders I might as well join the army. At least there I’d had a chance of earning some well-­earned respect.”

  “Did you?” Bree asked.

  Luke nodded. “For a while. Now I’m back home with a bum leg, proving to Dad he was right all along. I’m nothing but a disappointment in his eyes. A big, fat failure.”

  “Dad’s wrong!” Bree argued. “We’re not kids anymore and we’re capable of making our own choices. Choices our father might not agree with, but we are not failures.”

  “You never got your big break in New York, did you?” Luke asked.

  “No, but I’ve got my whole life in front of me,” Bree said, lifting her chin.

  “And how about Delaney?” Luke asked. “Did she tell you why she and Steve divorced?”

  “Not yet. But she will when she’s ready. And no matter what happened,” Bree said defensively, “you can’t call Delaney a failure. She’s the mother of a wonderful, beautiful daughter.”

  “Meghan is a winner,” Luke agreed with a grin. Then his face sobered. “But without this ranch, Delaney has no way to support her. She did say Steve isn’t paying child support.”

  “There is both good and bad in every situation,” Bree told him. “It just depends on how you look at it. You trusted your motorcycle not to fail you, I trusted my two-­timing boss, Delaney trusted Steve, Ma and Grandma trusted Dad to hire the right ­people, and Dad trusted those awful ranch managers. But all that misplaced trust has now brought our family back together.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” Luke asked with a wry grin.

  “We can make this all work out for the best. We can’t change our past, but that doesn’t mean we can’t change what happens in the future.”

  “Now you sound like Grandma,” Luke teased, and handed her a roasting stick. “But before you go preaching to me, why don’t you take your own advice?”

  Bree frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Your horse died, and it was terrible,” he said, giving her a direct look, “but you can’t let that stop you from riding again. Not when it’s a part of who you are. You love riding, Bree, you always have. Dad was wrong to give you the horse without asking you first, but he was right about one thing—­you need to get back up in the saddle.”

  Bree shook her head. “No. I have other interests now. Other dreams.”

  “If I were you,” Luke said, tapping his left leg with his cane, “I’d jump back up on that horse and ride as far and as long as I could. I’d travel the circuit and enter every rodeo like Sammy Jo. I’d be head wrangler and it would be me leading the guests on the weekend roundups instead of Ryan.”

  Bree gasped. “Are you jealous of Ryan?”

  Luke scowled. “I’m jealous of anyone who can do anything that I can’t. So do me a favor and ride for the both of us, will you?”

  “I—­” Bree met his gaze and knew if she wanted to change his attitude she’d have to change hers first. “I’ll try,” she promised.

  RYAN PARKED HIS truck in the Owenses’ driveway, and not seeing anyone around, he slid open the barn door and slipped inside, hoping to get another good look at those bags of salt.

  He walked into the dimly lit building and spotted several large bags of horse supplements instead. He’d taken only two steps toward the new bags when the overhead lights came on and Merle Owens asked, “What are you doing in here?”

  Ryan spun around. Merle stood behind him, blocking the entrance. And from the expression on Merle’s face, it was clear he was in a foul
mood.

  “I thought I lost my pocket knife in here the other day when I picked up the tiller attachment for the tractor,” Ryan said, his calm tone masking his unease.

  “There’s nothing of yours in here,” Merle said, his voice firm. He motioned Ryan toward the door. “Cody’s in the house.”

  Ryan had taken Cody to the Owenses’ for the afternoon. He hadn’t wanted his son to go, but Cody’s cousins were in town—­Gail’s sister’s kids, who were close in age to Cody. And his son hadn’t seen them in a long time.

  “Someone salted our east field the other night,” Ryan said, keeping his tone casual as he followed Merle toward the house. “They used a crop duster.”

  “Your aunt told me,” Merle grumbled. “Right before she said she was leasing her land to you instead of me. Now instead of harvesting my own crop I’ll have to buy hay for my horses. Do you know how much that’s going to cost me?”

  Ryan drew in a deep breath. “What if we sell you hay at a discount?”

  “What if you give me the hay I need for free,” Merle countered.

  There was no way his family could afford to give anyone hay for free. They had to cover operating expenses. “I’d hoped you would understand—­loyalty to family comes first.”

  “Yes, it does,” Merle spat. “So why are you working against us by wrangling for the guest ranch next door?”

  Ryan paused to let him open the front door of the main residence. “Bree and I are exchanging ser­vices.”

  Merle snickered. “I’ll bet.”

  Ryan didn’t like Merle’s suggestive tone, but knew by the way the man was clenching his fists that he was baiting him on purpose to draw him into a fistfight. Someday Ryan figured he might have to actually accept the guy’s challenge, but today he picked up his pace and found Cody and Mrs. Owens on the living room sofa watching an old James Bond movie on TV.

  Cody jumped up as soon as he saw him. “Time to go?”

  Ryan nodded. “Why don’t you go get your backpack?”

  His son ran toward the back bedroom, the one that once belonged to his mother, and Mrs. Owens frowned. “You could have let him spend the night,” she said, her voice tense.