by Marin Thomas
“How long ago was that?”
“1812. The Gadsden Purchase was signed in 1854, determining the border between Mexico and the United States and the ranch fell inside the U.S. boundaries.”
“Who got the land after that?” she asked.
“Former Union Colonel William Sturgis bought the property and renovated the mission. When the Mexican Revolution came, Pancho Villa fired on the main house.”
“By main house you mean the building with the lobby and dining room?”
He nodded. “You’ll see the cannonball embedded in the stucco wall when we go inside the building.”
She wandered closer to the bar and ran her hand over the horse-saddle seats. “Cute idea for stools.”
“There have been a lot of famous guests at this ranch over the years.”
“Politicians or actors?”
“A few of both. Author Margaret Mitchell wintered at the ranch and Zane Gray also wrote here.”
Beth found the information fascinating. “Any presidents?”
“Franklin Roosevelt and Lyndon B. Johnson. We’ve had a couple of ranch guests through the years report seeing an apparition in this room. You’ll let me know if you spot one, won’t you?”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said. Seriously—she majored in business and math in college. She possessed an analytical brain. Logic, not emotion, ruled her actions and decisions, which was probably why she couldn’t put her night with Mack behind her. She’d acted out of character—normally she dealt with facts not feelings—but the country-western singer had broken down her barriers and reached a touchy-feely place inside her that she hadn’t known existed.
“We’re empty right now, but we’re full up on the weekend.” He walked to the door. “Be sure to take advantage of your stay and go horseback riding.”
“I’ve never been horseback riding.”
When they stepped outside, Dave said, “One of our trail hands will give you lessons.”
Beth couldn’t imagine herself riding a horse. Then again she’d never envisioned herself entering a motel room with a stranger.
There was a first time for everything.
* * *
“NEED HELP WITH THAT, HOSS?” Mack stepped into the barn late Sunday afternoon and caught the retired rodeo clown struggling with a wheelbarrow full of soiled hay.
“Best get out of my way unless you want a pile of road apples fallin’ on yer fancy boots.”
When Mack had taken the job at the dude ranch, the sixty-five-year-old Hoss had been the first employee his boss had introduced him to. The surly man had made it clear the barn was his domain.
Mack stopped in front of Speckles’s stall and rubbed the horse’s nose. Hoss had been granted the privilege of naming the trail horses—big mistake. The geezer had named the geldings after rodeo clowns—Bim Bom, Coco, Potato, Bubbles, Doink, Flunky, Pooter, Zig and Zag. The only decent name in the whole group was Warrior, and he’d come with the ranch when Dave Paxton had purchased the place ten years ago. “Anything exciting happen here this weekend?”
“Millie ran off.” Hoss pushed the wheelbarrow into another stall then took a break.
“What do you mean she ran off?”
“Just up ’n’ left.” Hoss sat on a hay bale and drank from the water bottle he pulled out of the back pocket of his sagging Wranglers. After guzzling half the liquid he belched. “Didn’t leave no note. Nothin’.”
Mack knew the feeling. He’d woken alone in bed the morning after at the El Rancho Motel. Beth had left while he’d been asleep—the scent of her perfume on the bed sheets the only evidence she’d been there.
“What’s the boss going to do?” Mack asked. “He’s got that group of businessmen coming in from New York on Friday.”
“He was givin’ a gal a tour of the place earlier.” Hoss shrugged. “Maybe she’s the new housekeeper.”
“Let’s hope.” Mack was willing to do a lot of things at the dude ranch, but he refused to change bedsheets. “How’s the boss taking it?” Everyone knew Dave and Millie were sleeping together.
“He doesn’t say much, but I figure he’s hurtin’.” Hoss spit tobacco juice at the ground. “Can’t never trust a woman. They ain’t ever who you think they are.”
Hoss was speaking from experience. His wife had left him years ago when Hoss was still rodeoing. Heartbroken, Hoss rode the circuit, leaving his sixteen-year-old son home alone to fend for himself. At eighteen his son had joined the military and Hoss hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
“Maybe Millie will return in a few days. Might have been a family thing.”
“Millie ain’t got no family.” Hoss stood, the old bones in his bowlegged hips creaking.
“Wait here.” Mack rolled the wheelbarrow out of the horse stall.
“Get yer hands off my damned horse shit.”
“Settle down, old man, before you work yourself into a heart attack.” Mack wheeled the ’barrow out a side door and dumped the soiled hay into a compost pile behind the barn. When he returned, he caught Hoss rubbing his twisted fingers and knobby knuckles—leftover souvenirs from his rodeo career.
Hoss grabbed the ’barrow. “You competin’ in the Rattlesnake Rodeo at the end of the month?”
The Rattlesnake Rodeo raised money for the only medical clinic in Rattlesnake, Arizona. The closest town with a hospital was four hours west in Tucson. The residents of Rattlesnake depended on the clinic for most of their medical needs. “Yeah, I’ll probably enter.”
“Yer brothers gonna ride, too?”
“Don’t know. Except for me and Porter, they’re all married now and busy with their families.”
“Might find a wife at the rodeo.” Hoss snorted as he pitched soiled hay into the barrow.
“Sorry, Hoss. No buckle bunnies for me.” When Mack married, he wanted a down-home girl. Beth’s face flashed before his eyes... Why did she have to be like the other women who came to his concerts and just wanted a piece of him? Mack had dreamed of being a musician all his life, but lately the warning be careful what you wish for rang through his brain far too often.
He was tired of loose women fawning over him. He was twenty-nine and he’d made a promise to himself that by his thirtieth birthday he’d have found his forever woman.
That wasn’t going to happen if he couldn’t forget his one-night stand with Just Beth.
Chapter Two
An hour ago Dave had informed Mack that a guest—the daughter of a former college buddy—wanted a horseback-riding lesson. He checked his watch. She should be here any moment. Mack made sure the saddle on Speckles fit snug in case the horse decided to sprint after a desert jackrabbit. The mare’s spirited personality made her his favorite.
“You behave on the trail, you hear?” Speckles’s ears twitched and he rubbed the animal’s nose. “No showing off in front of Warrior.”
Speckles and Warrior had a love-hate relationship. Warrior developed a crush on Speckles the day she’d arrived at the ranch, but Speckles acted as if she couldn’t be bothered with the old gelding. Mack checked his watch again. “C’mon, lady. Where are you?”
“Right here.”
He spun, opening his mouth to apologize. The words evaporated on his tongue when the blood drained from the woman’s face, leaving her skin as white as Elmer’s school paste. Worried she’d faint, he stepped forward but she hastily retreated. If she toppled over, he hoped she hit her head on the edge of a hay bale and not the concrete floor.
Eyes wide, she gaped at him. He must remind her of someone—maybe a dead someone. Her lips parted then pressed closed as if her voice, along with her blood, had drained from her body. Since conversation appeared to be at a standstill he studied her, zeroing in on her mouth. When he noticed the faint scar next to her lower lip, his scalp prickled.
> Her brown eyes were the same shape as...and her nose was as straight as... No. She was missing the butterfly eyelashes and long hair. His gaze trailed down her body, stalling on her breasts. Heat spread through his gut.
It couldn’t be...
“Hello, Mack.”
Just Beth? No frickin’ way.
Of all the places he’d imagined running into the woman who’d snuck off to a motel with him a month ago, the dude ranch had never been one of them. “What are you doing here?”
She blinked as if in a daze. “I didn’t know you worked at the ranch.”
No kidding. If she had, she wouldn’t have booked a cabin here. “You’re a tough lady to find.” There. He admitted he’d been looking for her. Now the ball was in her court.
She waved a hand in front of her face—her nails were short and there was no trace of the bold, red polish. Gone, too, were the dangling earrings and sparkly eye shadow. Beth wore no makeup—except for the pink shine on her lips. The woman standing before him had nothing in common with the sexy siren he’d met at the Number 10 Saloon.
“You’re busy,” she said. “I’ll come back later.”
Like hell she would. “Stay.” He wasn’t letting her off the hook that easy. “The horses are already saddled.” He led Speckles from her stall, then took Warrior’s reins and escorted the animals out of the barn. He stopped next to the horse trough and cupped his hands near Warrior’s stirrup. “Put your left foot in here and swing your right leg over the saddle.”
Beth hesitated then edged closer and grasped the pummel. When she lifted her leg, he moved his hands beneath her shoe and hoisted her—a little too hard. She pitched forward and he grasped her waist, his fingers biting into her flesh to prevent her from sailing over Warrior’s head.
She rocked back, her rump hitting the saddle hard. Warrior shifted in surprise. Wanting to be certain she’d regained her balance, he tightened his hold on her, but she took exception to his touch and attempted to twist free. She teetered toward the opposite side and Mack reached for her shoulder, but his hand landed on her breast—a mound of soft flesh his fingers were intimately familiar with.
A jolt of electricity zapped his body, triggering a flashback of their night in the motel. She made eye contact and the heat in her gaze sent a second shockwave through him. She was a live wire.
Without speaking he hopped on Speckles, took Warrior’s reins and guided the horses to the trailhead. They rode in silence. With each passing minute, Mack’s frustration mounted. He led the horses off the trail toward a shallow water hole.
“Where are we going?”
The tremor in Beth’s voice convinced him that the bold, gutsy lady he’d met at the bar had been an imposter. “The horses need to rest.”
She lifted an eyebrow but didn’t challenge him. He hopped off Speckles then dropped the reins on the ground. The mare wandered to the water’s edge and drank. “Would you like help getting down?”
“No. I’ll wait here until your horse is ready to go.”
“My horse isn’t going to leave until you and I talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest and a stare-down ensued.
“Mack.” Beth’s eyes pleaded with him. “Do we have to discuss that night?”
Ouch. That she wanted to forget the most amazing few hours of his life hurt way more than a nasty fall off a rank bronc. “You owe me a few answers.”
Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t owe you anything.”
Amused by her stubbornness, he asked, “What’s your real name?”
With a resigned huff she yanked her foot from the stirrup and slid off Warrior. As soon as her feet hit the dirt, the horse walked to the pond for a drink. “Beth Richards.” She jutted her chin as if daring him to challenge her again.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me your last name the night we—”
“Because I never planned on seeing you again.”
“You’re not married, are you?”
“Not anymore.”
Startled, he asked, “Were you married when we—”
“I signed the divorce papers earlier in the day before I showed up at the bar.”
“So you were celebrating your divorce that night?”
“Yes.”
His stomach knotted. Why was he upset that Beth had used him? He’d approached her in the bar. He’d been the one to invite her to go off with him later that night. Maybe that was the problem—he couldn’t reconcile the Beth on horseback with the Beth at the Number 10. “Why the getup?”
“Getup?”
“Fancy clothes, heavy makeup and long hair? You looked like all the other buckle bunnies in the bar.”
She gestured to herself. “I doubt you would have left with me if I’d walked into the place looking like...me.”
Was she kidding?
She dropped her gaze but not before he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “The horses are done drinking.”
The horses could wait. He still had a few questions. “Was everything a lie that night?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you worked at an investment firm.”
“I did.”
“You quit your husband and you quit your job?”
Her head snapped up. “I didn’t quit my husband. He quit me. As for the job, I didn’t have any other choice but to quit.”
His question had visibly upset her. “What are you doing here? Hiding from an abusive ex?”
“Brad’s not like that. He’s too wrapped up in his ego to bother making my life miserable.”
Mack was relieved she hadn’t been mistreated by her ex. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here at the ranch.”
“I needed a place to catch my breath after the divorce.”
“You could have caught your breath in Cancún or Belize. Black Jack Mountain?”
“My parents are friends with Dave. They’ve visited the ranch several times but I never have.” She shrugged. “It seemed like a good place to relax and make plans for the future.”
Plans for a future that obviously didn’t include him.
“Mack, I’m sorry. I thought you were just a singer in a local band. You never mentioned working at a dude ranch.”
He kicked a rock across the ground and cursed. He’d brought up his job after they’d made love, but evidently she hadn’t been listening. Maybe he was better off not knowing what that night was all about for her. Obviously, she hadn’t been as wowed by the sex as he had or she’d have tried to contact him after she left the motel.
He fetched the horses. “How long are you staying?” He might have to find a new job if she intended to hide in her guest cabin indefinitely.
“I don’t know.” She placed her foot in his hands. “I guess until I figure out where I want to move.”
She was leaving—that killed any possibility of the two of them starting over. He helped her onto Warrior, then mounted Speckles and clicked his tongue. He could tolerate Beth’s presence until she made plans for the future—if not, he was in big trouble.
* * *
THREE DAYS HAD PASSED since Beth had discovered Mack was an employee at the dude ranch—how they’d managed to avoid each other was a miracle in and of itself. Then again, she’d taken all her meals in her cabin to increase her odds of not crossing paths with the cowboy. Nights were another story. As soon as her head hit the pillow, Beth’s mind raced with thoughts of Mack. And when she finally drifted off, visions of their night in the motel plagued her sleep, and each morning she woke emotionally exhausted.
Twice she’d walked down the path to Dave’s office to thank him for the use of the cabin and notify him that she was leaving. But her feet had a mind of their own and she’d ended up meandering away from main ranch quarters as she was doing right now. She stopped at the en
trance to the barn then glanced at the parking lot. Mack’s truck was missing among the vehicles. Maybe she’d sneak inside and visit the horses.
“Hoss?” She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimness.
“In the storage room.”
She passed by the empty stalls, the scent of fresh hay and grain surprisingly pleasant. “I thought I’d visit the horses but—”
“Jake let ’em out to graze.”
She exhaled quietly.
“You bored, missy?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Mind if I ask a personal question?”
Other than introducing themselves, she and Hoss hadn’t exchanged more than a “thank you” or “you’re welcome” all week. “Sure.”
“What’s goin’ on between you ’n’ Mack?”
Had Mack mentioned their one-night stand to the ranch hand? “Nothing. Why?”
“You don’t eat in the dining hall with the rest of us.”
“I’ve been working right through dinner.” That was partially true. One day this week she searched the internet for employment opportunities while she ate her supper.
Hoss’s rheumy eyes latched on to her and she worried he could see clear through to her soul. “Mack hasn’t cracked a joke all week.” He removed a towel from the shelf and wiped his hands. “Acts like a man who’s—”
“Hoss, don’t you have better things to do than bother the guests?”
Mack lounged in the doorway as if he didn’t have a care in the world. How long had he been standing there?
“Guess I’ll take a few carrots out to the horses.” Hoss left the room, his shuffling footsteps echoing through the barn.
Mack unnerved Beth. She hadn’t seen this serious side of him the night they’d met. Then he blinked and for a split second she saw a wounded look in his eyes before it vanished.
“Wait.” Could it be that he’d asked for her number because their night at the motel had been more than just sex for him? Beth’s heart raced with hope...then dread.
You’re not the Beth he took to the motel room.
She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. That night had been the worst-best mistake of her life. “Mack, this isn’t going to work.”