Sweet-Talking Cowboy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  “I’m so glad I followed my instincts and came here instead of canceling the reservation.”

  “I’m glad you did, too.”

  She buckled her seatbelt and rearranged the blanket. “I promise I won’t be a weepy face the whole week.”

  “It’s fine with me if you are.”

  “Really? Tears don’t bother you?”

  He gazed at her and shook his head. “Only one thing would bother me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you stopped being Lucy.”

  “Not much chance of that.” She picked up the bag holding her sketchpad and pencils. “Especially now that I have these.” She reached into the other bag. “And colored socks.”

  “You still like those?”

  “I love them. In fact, I’m going to put on a pair right now. The sneakers aren’t keeping my feet very warm.”

  “Then by all means, tear into that package.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll text Henri and let her know we’re fifteen minutes away.”

  “Would you please warn her about the situation? And that I’m still wearing my wedding dress?”

  “Sure.” He finished the text and tucked the phone back in his pocket. Crinkling plastic and the rustling of her skirt indicated she was taking off her shoes and putting on her new socks.

  “There’s way too much material in the skirt of this dress. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “That wedding dresses are supposed to have lots of material?” He checked for traffic and backed out of the parking space.

  “I guess. At least I didn’t have a train. There, socks are on. Cozy.”

  “What color did you pick?” He turned the nose of the truck toward home.

  “You mean colors. One blue and one yellow.”

  Matt smiled. Best news he’d had all day.

  Chapter Four

  So much for a civilized reveal over a couple of beers. Lucy had scripted the scenario differently. Sobbing in Matt’s arms in the cab of his truck while she blurted out the story of her wedding drama hadn’t been the plan. A friendly conversation while drinking beer in front of the fireplace in her cabin would have been her first choice.

  But unburdening herself had brought blessed relief. She’d soldiered through her first explanation for the cancelled wedding and Matt had delivered the appropriate reaction—shock and dismay. Expressions of both emotions soothed her soul.

  Now, as they cruised down the two-lane in the direction of the ranch, she reoriented herself to a changed landscape. Wildflowers had given way to endless expanses of snow broken occasionally by the stark outline of a black, leafless tree. Evergreens softened the view, but their dark green faded to black as twilight took over. “Everything’s so black and white.”

  “And you being such a fan of color.”

  “I am, but this black and white world is… intriguing. What do you think of it?”

  “It looks the way it’s supposed to this time of year.”

  “That’s deep.”

  He chuckled. “Trust me, it’s not. I guess what I’m saying is that I’ve lived here all my life and I’m used to the weather. When winter comes, it’s like this. Beautiful in its own way.”

  “You’ve lived in Apple Grove all your life?” Somehow she’d missed that information.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You were born here?”

  “In Apple Grove General.”

  “I don’t want to intrude, but… your parents?”

  “Never knew my dad. My mother turned me over to a foster care service when I was two. I have no idea where she is, either.”

  “Oh, Matt. I didn’t know any of that.”

  “It’s like the weather. It is what it is. I have a good life, so evidently that’s the way things were meant to go.”

  “I think you’re more of a Zen master than I thought.”

  “Don’t go hanging any medals on me. I was a holy terror for years.”

  “You?” She pulled the sketchpad and pencils out of the bag. She had just enough light to get in one quick sketch. “I can’t imagine that.”

  “It’s true. If I’d lived anywhere else, I would have turned into a criminal. I had a chip on my shoulder a mile high.”

  “Huh.” She chose a few pencils and began roughing out a portrait of Matt. She hadn’t sketched him in six years, but the image emerged quickly. “I don’t remember you having an attitude that first summer.”

  “By then I’d been under Henri’s and Charley’s supervision for six months.” He paused. “Is that of me?”

  “Yes. Just keep talking. I’m listening. I want to get this done before I lose the light. What do you mean by under Henri’s and Charley’s supervision? That almost sounds like house arrest.”

  “It was close. I was told if I didn’t make a go of it at the Buckskin, my next stop would be the juvenile detention center in Great Falls.”

  “Matt!” She glanced up from her sketch. “What on Earth did you do?”

  “You name it—spraying graffiti on the gazebo, hot-wiring trucks parked on the square, shop-lifting from the Apple Barrel. I was always caught immediately. I’d perform my public service and go right back to my life of crime.”

  “Wow.” Her heart ached for him, a young kid trying to get attention the only way he knew how.

  “Folks around here were getting sick of it and I can’t blame them. Then Henri and Charley offered to take me in and put me to work. It was my last chance. I owe them everything. They straightened me out.”

  And they loved you. “That’s some story.”

  “With a happy ending. Except for losing Charley four years ago.” His voice softened. “That was rough. Especially for Henri.”

  “I’m sure. I sent her a note.”

  “She told me. She was very touched that you wrote to her.”

  “I didn’t know what to say. Such a great guy. Obviously her soulmate. But when I called to make the reservation last year, she sounded like her old self.”

  “She is her old self. She says Charley would have wanted it that way. He was proud of the ranch and maintaining it makes her feel close to him.”

  “That’s lovely. Is she still riding with the Babes on Buckskins?” She squinted and leaned closer to the paper.

  “She is.” He turned on the dome light. “Is that better?”

  “Much, but won’t the light distract you?”

  “I can manage.”

  “Then, thanks. I’ll be finished soon. I’m glad the Babes are still a thing. I remember them as a fun bunch. One year we came for Fourth of July and I cheered like crazy when their entry came by in the parade. They tossed me so much candy.”

  “They’re a hoot. Henri had them over last night for their monthly sleepover and pig out dinner and breakfast.”

  “That doesn’t sound familiar. Have they always done that?”

  “Nope. They started after Charley died, and four years later, it’s a once-a-month tradition.”

  “That must be a blast. Speaking of food, does Jake still make chuck-wagon stew for you guys on Friday night?”

  “He sure does. Wouldn’t be Friday night without Jake’s stew.”

  “I remember when the wranglers used to eat in the dining hall.”

  “Me, too, but when Henri and Charley built more guest cottages, it got crowded in there. I think they hired Jake partly because he offered to cook for the hands in the bunkhouse.” He slowed down and checked for oncoming traffic before making a left onto an unpaved road.

  She glanced up from her sketchbook as they passed under the weathered sign hanging from a horizontal beam anchored by two upright poles on either side of the road. “The entrance is the same. Is that the original sign?”

  “No. Charley made that one after the original blew off in a windstorm. Never found it.”

  “Do you know why they were both so focused on buckskins?” She put the finishing touch on her sketch, further defining his hair, which would look different after tomorrow’s a
ppointment.

  “They met at an International Buckskin Horse Association event in Texas.”

  “And they decided to start a breeding operation?”

  “Sort of. You can’t breed for color, so sometimes they get one and sometimes not. They seemed to relish the randomness of it.”

  “Last time I was here, I gave her a sketch of them on King and Prince, but I don’t know if she—”

  “She had it framed and it’s hanging in the living room.”

  “Yeah? Cool.” She studied his nose. She’d drawn it straight because it used to be. Altering her sketch slightly, she gave him the nose he had now, the slope interrupted by a slight bump. “Did you break your nose?”

  “I broke it two summers ago when I came off Sassafras. She skidded to a stop and I kept going. My fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” He took another quick look at the sketch. “You did that fast.”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.” She added the small mole on his right cheekbone, not far from the corner of his eye.

  “On portraits?”

  “Right.” Mostly portraits of him. She knew his face almost as well as her own, at least the way it had been at twenty-two, before he’d broken his nose.

  His eyes had tiny crinkle lines at the corners that hadn’t been there before and his cheekbones were more pronounced. His jaw seemed a little firmer, or maybe it was the faint shadow of his beard, which was more noticeable than it had been at twenty-two.

  The years had increased his rugged appeal. She held up the sketch. Had she captured the essence of Matt? Close, very close.

  Comparing the previous sketches to this one would have been interesting, but she’d destroyed them all. She regretted that she hadn’t saved at least one.

  “You’re good at that.”

  “Thanks. I enjoy it. I’d give it to you, but I’m guessing that a sketch of yourself isn’t what you had in mind when you asked for a drawing.”

  He smiled. “Not really. But I’d take one of Thunderbolt. I’d love a sketch of him.”

  “That’s a great idea. You can turn off the dome light, now. Thanks for that.”

  “Happy to. It’s good to see you drawing again.”

  “It feels good.” Ahead of them, the windows of the two-story ranch house glowed in the gathering darkness. Snow frosted the pitched roof and icicles hung from the eaves. Snow and icicles decorated the porch railing, too. “The house looks very cozy.”

  “That’s another thing about winter. The cozy factor. You don’t get that in summertime.”

  “You’re right. Maybe I’ll sketch the cabin we always stayed in and give that one to my folks. Although I don’t know if they need another sketch of mine. Their place is full of them.”

  “But you’ve never done one of their favorite cabin in winter.”

  “No. Or the horses in the snow, or Crooked Creek frozen over.”

  “Sounds like a great project to me.”

  “It does. I need to buy some barn boots so I can go walking.” She looked over at him. “The sketchpad and pencils were a brilliant idea. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad it hit the spot. You’ll be busy.”

  “Yep.”

  “Might not have time for that hair appointment.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. We’re going to that, no matter what. Hey, is dinner still at six?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’ll have just enough time to say hello to Henri, get your key and go change. I’ll drive you down to your cabin.”

  “Great. You can’t imagine how much I want to get out of this wedding dress.”

  “I think I can.”

  “I used to love it and now I want to wave a magic wand and poof it’s gone.”

  “Millie could make that happen.”

  “Brilliant idea. I’ll just leave it in the cabin with a note. Has she found the right guy?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I can relate.” She sighed. “It’s not easy.”

  Chapter Five

  Matt couldn’t wait to get Lucy inside the warm, cozy house. As usual, smoke drifted from the chimney. Henri built a fire nearly every night in the winter and often in the summer if it was cool enough.

  He would always associate the ever-present glow of the fire and the scent of wood smoke with Buckskin Ranch. This place, tucked into the pines and surrounded by towering mountains, had become a haven from life’s miseries because Henri made it so. Lucy’s instincts had brought her here in the midst of a crisis. She’d chosen well.

  His contribution of the art supplies had helped, and he was happy about that, but Henri would be Lucy’s port in a storm. She’d been that for him and every wrangler at the Buckskin, although not many knew. She could serve the same purpose for Lucy.

  In a way, he was glad Lucy was walking up the porch steps of the ranch house wearing her wedding dress with its dirt-crusted hem. It underlined her dire circumstances.

  Henri met her at the door. Five-ten in her stocking feet, she was six feet tall in boots. Her iron-gray hair was cut short and her green-eyed gaze reflected sixty-two years of hard-won experience.

  Intimidating to her foes, she was a source of endless strength and support to those she loved. And Henri loved plenty of people, including Lucy Patterson. Lucy’s gift of a sketch that captured the bond between Henri and Charley was a treasured keepsake.

  When Lucy stepped through the door cocooned in the fleece blanket from Matt’s truck, Henri opened her arms. Lucy didn’t hesitate. The blanket slid from her shoulders as she moved directly into that protective embrace.

  Over the top of Lucy’s head, Henri met Matt’s gaze. They’d developed a silent communication over the years and he got the message. We’ll fix this. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

  After that tight hug, Henri was all business. “Let’s get you situated. Do you need to borrow some clothes? I have—”

  “I’m good for now.” Lucy picked up the blanket from the floor and folded it over her arm. “Matt was kind enough to run into the sportswear store and pick up sweats and a t-shirt for me.” She glanced back at him with a smile. “And socks.” Lifting her skirts, she showed off the mismatched socks above sequined sneakers.

  Henri beamed at him. “That’s taking the bull by the horns, son.”

  “He also bought me a sketchpad and pencils.”

  Henri’s eyebrows rose. “Nice.”

  “It’s more than nice,” Lucy said. “It’ll be a lifesaver. I can’t wait to get out there and sketch the Buckskin Ranch in winter.”

  “You’ll need a coat,” Henri said. “And barn boots. Mine will be way too big, but Kate might have some that will fit you. Or Millie. What size?”

  “Eight, but I can wait until—”

  “It’ll just be a loan. You’ll want your own, but I’ll check with them so you can start tromping around in the morning.”

  “After I help feed. Can I do that? I used to love feeding the horses.”

  “You can, but it’s dark and cold out there this time of year. We heat the barn, but getting there is a chilly proposition.”

  “I’m up for it.”

  “Alrighty, then. I’ll get you a coat.” She turned and walked over to the hall closet. “You’ll swim in it, but it’ll be easier to deal with than the blanket.” She came back with a shearling-lined denim jacket. “You can roll up the sleeves.”

  “Thank you.” Lucy handed him the blanket and took the coat. Sure enough, the sleeves hung past her fingertips.

  Henri helped her roll them up. “Here’s the key to your cabin.” She pulled it out of her jeans pocket.

  “Don’t I have to register, sign something, show you a credit card?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “And dinner’s still at six, Matt said.”

  “It is.” Henri frowned. “We have a bit of a Valentine’s Day theme going tonight and we have only couples registered this weekend. No families. Hearts and flowers will be scattered around. Will that be a problem?”

  “Oh.” S
he hesitated. Then she took a quick breath. “I’ll be fine.”

  Matt didn’t like the idea of her toughing it out alone. “Would you like me to go with you?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, Matt. But I’ll be okay.”

  He didn’t press the point. It wasn’t a pity date invite, but it could look that way from her vantage point.

  “I’d invite you to have dinner with me,” Henri said, “but the Babes cleaned me out. I was thinking of going to the dining hall myself.”

  Lucy gazed at her. “You were?”

  “Why not? There will be an extra meal. I called down there when I heard you’d be by yourself, but they were too far along to cancel it. Can I join you?”

  “By all means. I’ll be dressed in sweats, a t-shirt and this sweatshirt. I hope that’s okay since this is a Valentine event.”

  “It’ll do fine. I’ll come to your cabin a little before six and we’ll walk over together.”

  “Great.”

  “See you then. Oh, and when I got the news, I drove over and took down the congratulations banner, but I left the champagne and chocolates. Thought you might want that, after all.”

  “You bet. You could have left the banner, for that matter. Congratulations are in order. I didn’t marry a jerk.”

  “That’s right, you didn’t. Want it back?”

  “That’s okay. I’m good with the champagne and chocolates.” She glanced at Matt. “We’d better get going.”

  “After you.” He escorted Lucy out the door.

  She picked up her skirts as she navigated the porch steps again. “Are we still on for drinks in my cabin after dinner? Now that I have champagne, I feel a celebration coming on.”

  “To celebrate dodging a bullet?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m in.” He helped her into the truck and waited while she pulled her bulky skirt inside. Once she was tucked in, he shut the door.

  Moments later he opened the driver’s door and climbed in. “You know what? This might call for a bigger venue and more folks. We have a fire pit out behind the bunkhouse. I can ask the guys if they’re up for making a bonfire. You’ve got champagne, we’ve got beer. Millie and Kate could come, maybe even Henri.“