Lost in Cottonwood Canyon & How to Train a Cowboy--Lost in Cottonwood Canyon

by RaeAnne Thayne

“In January?”

  He had a reputation to protect: Emily’s. Word got around in a small town. He wasn’t going to confess to any pond’s polar bear club. He hated to lie, but it was for a good cause. The best cause. Her cause. “The hotel had a heated swimming pool.”

  Gus piled all the towels into one arm and grabbed the comforter. Graham heard Emily’s voice as she’d wriggled out of her mummy wrap to include him. It’s mostly dry.

  Gus led the way toward the bunkhouse, shaking his head. “I guess youth isn’t wasted on the young. Someone at your hotel left a few strands of long hair on this here wet comforter. Hope you didn’t leave any broken hearts in the city.”

  “Only my own.”

  His uncle scrutinized him from under the brim of his cowboy hat.

  “Just kidding. Really.”

  Not kidding. My heart’s gone.

  The girl who had taken it had left long hair on his comforter, and his uncle had too damned sharp of an eye. Now if Graham asked his uncle if he knew a local girl named Emily Davis, it’d be too revealing. Damn, damn, damn. He was going to have to wait for the right time to drop her name.

  He followed his uncle into the bunkhouse. It was a distinctly male space. Graham scanned left to right. Checked the corners. Clear.

  A billiards table, overstuffed armchairs grouped a little haphazardly around a TV, and a basic kitchen made up the common area. His bedroom was private and simple, an extra-long twin bed and a desk, the only unoccupied room in a hallway of six identical rooms. It reminded him of barracks. Three months of solitude would never be found in barracks.

  Graham looked at the bed and knew he’d never bring Emily here. He’d have to find a hotel on the edge of Austin that really did have a heated swimming pool.

  “You can unpack later, son. Let’s go get your signature on this contract. Now, I usually sign ’em, being the foreman, but since you’re my nephew, it’ll be better if one of the owners signs. The only owner on the property right now is Trey Waterson. I’ll introduce you.”

  “Trey. Do I know that name?” He followed Gus on foot back toward the barns. No wonder the older man seemed to be in good shape. Just going from building to building around here was going to add miles of walking to Graham’s day. He’d need no more gym workouts to offset air-conditioned days of immobility spent tied to a desk.

  “His name was out there, a while back,” Gus said. “Trey was a big football star in his college days. Oklahoma Tech. Quarterback. Heisman candidate his freshman year.”

  “No sh—no kidding? That’s got to be it.” Except something about the name had made Graham think of Emily, not football. The Oklahoma Tech connection made him think of Emily, maybe. Or maybe it was because Emily was pretty much all he could think about. He needed to focus on the here and now to meet his new boss, who was outside near a split rail fence.

  Trey Waterson had all the size of an NFL star. Graham didn’t normally look up when he talked to another man. That was a novelty. They were probably the same age, but Trey owned the place, and Graham had no problem with rank structure after eight years in the Marines, so when Gus walked him over to introduce him, Graham shook hands and said, “Mr. Waterson.”

  “Call me Trey. You go by Benjamin?”

  “Graham.”

  “All right, then. Gus tells me you’re a veteran. Thank you for your service.”

  Graham didn’t know how to respond when people said that. Sure, you’re welcome for me being the one in the vehicle that flipped when that roadside bomb detonated. The shoulder sucks, but other Marines got it worse, so I can’t complain.

  Graham nodded and hoped that would suffice. He knew people meant well when they thanked him, but it was the kind of thing he’d hoped to avoid out in the middle of nowhere. He’d left Chicago expressly so he wouldn’t have to pretend like he was sociable in any kind of group, yet here he was, forced to deal with the polite conventions of society even on a cattle ranch.

  The two men seemed to think a nod was plenty. No further questions or comments. That was good.

  They started walking toward one of the barns. Graham fell into step with them. It was a little bit like walking with John Wayne or Clint Eastwood, the stereotype was that realistic. Since Graham didn’t know anything about the real West, he watched Gus and Trey. They did the same kind of alert scan that had become second nature to Graham in the military, only these men were looking at the buildings in general, maybe the sky at the horizon, too, and checking out the horses in a pasture in particular.

  Horses. Graham hadn’t expected there to be so many, a couple dozen of them, grazing on the other side of that split rail fence. They were impressive in their size this close. Their musculature under their brown and black coats looked as sleek as any horse he’d ever seen on television or a racetrack, but this close, he could appreciate the power these animals must be able to produce when they worked. They weren’t working now. They swished their tails or took a few steps as they nosed around the ground, but mostly, they just looked peaceful. Patient.

  Ah, Emily. This was the type of place where she felt like she belonged. Here, and in the front seat of his SUV. The back seat. My arms. She belongs in my arms.

  “You ride?”

  Trey’s voice jarred his attention away from the horses. “Haven’t tried it.”

  “Gus did say that, now that you mention it.” Trey shook his head a little, like it was incredible a grown man hadn’t saddled up a horse in his life. Same attitude as Emily, male version. “You know cattle?”

  “Never touched a cow.”

  Trey seemed amused by that one. “If you make it to roundup, you’re gonna touch a thousand of ’em and probably wish you hadn’t.”

  Trey eyed him another moment as they walked. Graham returned the look with a level gaze. He didn’t know squat about ranching, but if the military had taught him anything, it was that a person could do just about anything they had to do when they really had to do it. Vault fences, jump out of planes, go days without sleep, apply a tourniquet and drag an unconscious buddy half a mile in hundred-degree heat until the helicopters came. Whatever one had to do.

  They walked into one of the barns. Left to right, check the corners. This place would be a nightmare to clear of enemy personnel. Every stall could hide ten men.

  Gus’s office was a walled-in space off to the right. The contract was waiting on his desk.

  “You know how to change motor oil?” Trey asked, taking off one of the leather work gloves he wore.

  “Yes.” Finally, a yes.

  Trey signed his name on the contract, tossed down the pen and put on the glove again. “We’ve got two ATVs due for oil changes. Since you’ll be riding those while you learn which end of a horse means business, you might do the changing yourself. We keep ’em in the shed that’s closest to the house.”

  Graham signed his name on the dotted line.

  “After that,” Trey said with an actual smile, “you gotta shovel some manure.”

  Graham settled for a nod. After all, he was the one who’d be doing the actual shoveling. “Understood. That’s the way most jobs go.”

  “Welcome aboard.” Trey smacked him on the shoulder. Luckily, on the good shoulder, because the man did not play. If Graham hadn’t been a Marine, he had no doubt these cowboys would have him facedown in the dust. Graham swallowed his oof and did not stumble forward from the impact. Semper fi, gentlemen.

  Trey turned to leave. “Gus, I’m heading into town for the rest of the day.”

  “Right. Good luck with those building permits. Hope Rebecca’s job interview goes well.”

  “She’ll be just fine as can be.”

  Graham froze. It was another Emily phrase, this time spoken with the exact same amount of Texas drawl. The exact same inflection. He looked at Trey again. No resemblance, none at all. Emily wou
ld have to be an extra-tall woman, or Trey would have to have a slender build. Emily’s eyes were dark. Trey’s were light.

  Luke was the cousin who ran Emily’s ranch. She’d talked about Luke a lot. Luke was going to hire a new hand. But there was a brother—owned a third of the land—hadn’t bothered to come home for ten years, not until Luke’s wedding just weeks ago. The brother’s name, had she mentioned it? Trey had sounded so familiar when Gus said it.

  Graham looked at the contract. Trey had signed it James Waterson III. Right—this ranch owner was Waterson, not Davis. Trey himself looked as hard-core cowboy as Gus did. He wasn’t a man who’d been out of ranching for ten years. This was a million-dollar cattle operation, not a family ranch.

  Graham hadn’t just taken Emily’s job.

  * * *

  “Gus, I’m here to take that job.”

  Emily looked herself in the eye as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and braided her freshly washed hair. She was feeling calm after her nap and her shower. She just needed to practice her opening line. Once she spit it out, all the rest would flow.

  “Gus, I’m the new hand Uncle James needs here on the ranch.”

  For working cattle, Emily usually parted her hair in the middle and made two braids, one on each side. That was easy to do, and it kept all of her hair out of her face and off the back of her neck from dawn to dusk when she chased down stragglers as they drove the herd to the far hundred. Now she looked in the mirror and worried that it made her look too young.

  She undid the braids and started over. One braid straight down her back would look more mature.

  One braid to the side was for bed. After midnight, it had been for Graham.

  For Graham, who was on her team.

  Graham, who believed in her.

  She took a breath and looked in the mirror. She could do this. She deserved this job. And she would call Graham tonight and tell him she’d gotten her job and her new place to live, so he didn’t need to worry about her. He was out in the middle of nowhere, but maybe the satellite gods would be kind and bounce her signal to his phone. She wanted to hear his voice.

  “Gus, let’s talk about where I fit on the James Hill.”

  That would work, because she did fit on the James Hill. Gus had practically raised her to be part of the James Hill. She finished her braid, gathered up last night’s clothes, stopped in the mudroom to stomp on her boots and put everything back in her truck. It was time to walk to Gus’s office. This was it.

  She looked around, but there was nobody else at the house, so she took out the Marine Corps jacket and, one more time, buried her face in it. He was coming back for her. Someday.

  She wished someday wasn’t three months away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Ain’t you a little old to be a greenhorn?”

  Aren’t you a little young to be so cocky?

  Graham ignored the ranch hand who was supposed to be helping him. He opened the ATV’s drain plug and let the oil start draining into the drain pan. Pretty elementary stuff, but apparently this young cowboy thought it was a big test of manhood that the new guy—the greenhorn—might fail. He was watching Graham like a hawk. What he wasn’t doing was helping.

  “Hand me the filter wrench,” Graham said.

  “You’re the greenhorn. You do the fetching and carrying.”

  Graham was too old for this crap. Too old, and too experienced. He stayed where he was, on one knee by the ATV, and wiped the oil off his fingers with the rag, taking his time. “Here’s the problem, Sid. You stuck the filter wrench under your ass when you sat on that bench. Either you want to watch me search through the toolbox for something you know isn’t there, or you want me to come and stick my hand under you to get the wrench.” He looked from his hand to the cowboy. “Either way, Sid, you got the wrong man.”

  He finished wiping his fingers off and tossed the rag at Sid, who had no choice but to catch it if he didn’t want it to hit his chest. “Hand me the filter wrench.”

  Sid threw it more than tossed it, but that was all right. Let him be pissed that he got bested. Graham caught the wrench and started loosening the oil filter.

  “Just testing you,” Sid said, sounding like a petulant child. “Don’t be touching me. Where’d you come from, anyway?”

  “Chicago.”

  Graham had planned on three months of silence. Three months of being alone to hear his own empty thoughts echo in his empty head. Not happening.

  “What’d you do in Chicago?”

  “I dropped out of college.” Graham hid a smile at the way Sid nodded in approval. “How about you? Have you been here long?”

  “James hired me last roundup. Old James, not the football James. That one goes by Trey.”

  “Yeah, I got that. I haven’t met the older James yet.”

  “Probably won’t before roundup. He and his wife are off on one trip or t’other most of the time. Go to Timbuktu or something.”

  Very precisely, without thinking about anything else, Graham took the new oil filter out of its cardboard box. He kept the box in his palm. It was perfectly empty, like his brain. He knew nothing. He wanted to know nothing.

  My aunt and uncle travel around the world. The memory was clear, even the way Emily had stood between his knees when she’d said it, barefoot on the cold ground, excitedly explaining her plan.

  Graham dragged his sleeve across his mouth. Trey. Emily had said her other cousin’s name was Trey. Graham couldn’t keep his mind blank enough.

  “How about Luke?” Graham asked. Go ahead and hit me with it.

  Sid did. “You’ll see more of him than you want to. Luke runs the place. He’s on some hoity-toity honeymoon with his hoity-toity bride right now.”

  He kept talking, but Graham didn’t hear a thing over the roaring in his head. Of course Sid hadn’t said never heard of anyone named Luke. Of course not. God-effing-dammit. Holy frigging crackers.

  A Texas girl’s idea of a family ranch was wildly different than his own.

  He needed to keep a cool head. He had no choice but to adapt to the change of plans. There was a definite upside: he’d see Emily, and he’d see her often. His heart wouldn’t be so far away.

  But if so, he should have already seen her. She should have beaten him by two hours or more to Gus’s office. She could have decided to drive back to Austin to confront her mother first. He could see Emily wanting to get the hardest part out of the way. He hoped she’d thought to pack her things in her truck before her parents had a chance to throw her out. She wouldn’t obey Graham’s order—his request—to call him if she needed help, but he should never have left his phone in his SUV, signal or no signal.

  “Fancy.” Sid was suddenly intent on something outside the door of the ATV shed. “Mm, mm, mm. That there is some fancy meat walkin’.”

  Graham hardly needed to turn around to see what was making Sid lick his chops.

  Emily was walking past the shed, oblivious to their presence. The Texas winter sunshine was as beautiful on her as the moonlight. How could he feel this irrationally happy to see her again? It was like seeing her after years instead of hours. The pleasure of it hurt.

  He stood to watch her pass, same as Sid. Emily wore a plaid shirt, mostly red, a muted color like the barns. It was tucked into jeans that were belted with a silver Western buckle that reflected sunlight for one second of sparkle. The decorative boots had been replaced by a pair that looked plain and sturdy. Then she was past the shed and he was admiring the view from behind. Her braid was still wet, but she’d redone it so that it was hanging down her back, as straight as her spine.

  “Mmm-hmm, I’d tap that,” Sid said. “I’d tap that hard and I’d tap that long.”

  It would be so easy to break Sid in half. So very easy.

  Graham
couldn’t give away his relationship with Emily, not without talking to her first. How would she want to handle this new situation?

  “I’ve had my eye on her for a while,” Sid said, frowning at him. “Don’t get any ideas, greenhorn. I got dibs.”

  No, Sid, you don’t. Not in this lifetime.

  Then Graham remembered that Emily wasn’t just out walking to take in the mild weather. She was headed directly for the barn that held Gus’s office. She was going to get her job.

  Even the Marine Corps didn’t have enough curse words to express Graham’s feelings as he quickly screwed on the new filter and poured in new oil through a funnel.

  “You do the other ATV and clean up,” he ordered Sid as he headed out of the shed.

  “Hey. No, man, you’re the green—”

  “Give it a rest. I’ve got something to do.”

  Something he dreaded.

  * * *

  Nothing to be nervous about. It’s only the first day of the rest of your life.

  Emily took a deep breath and knocked on the door frame to the foreman’s office. Gus always left the door open.

  “Emily. Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

  “It’s good to be back, thank you. Gus, let’s talk about where I fit—”

  “Hardly got to talk to you last time you were here, what with all the wedding goings-on and the ice storm and all. How’s college treating you?” He kicked back in his desk chair, ready for a talk.

  “Well, I’m done with college, actually.” She’d never in her life felt so nervous to talk to the foreman.

  Gus squinted at her. “Did I not get the invitation to the party? I know your mama’s gonna throw a graduation party.”

  “I’ve got one class left, but I’ll take it this summer online and get my diploma in September. I don’t need to spend an entire semester in Oklahoma just to take that one class.”

  “Huh. Thought you said done.”

  Emily knew what that skeptical sound and that squinty look meant. Gus had always made all the cousins tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “I’m not technically done, I know. But for all practical purposes, I am. It’s almost a formality right now, and that is the absolute truth. So, Gus, let’s talk about—”