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

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Emily put her hands in his hair for balance. “Graham, what are you doing?”

  But of course, she already knew.

  He smiled anyway and told her. “I’m belonging to you.”

  * * *

  Ten weeks down, two to go.

  Graham rode his horse into the temporary camp, counting the days. The James Hill Ranch would begin its roundup two weeks from now, and Emily would come home for nine days on her spring break. The days would be hard and they would be long, but they’d be spent side by side with the woman he missed so much. His heart hurt with the sheer anticipation of it.

  Before the roundup of the thousands of calves on the James Hill, he’d get his first taste of the work today at this smaller, neighboring ranch. The Chavez family was known for having the first roundup of the spring, and they threw a picnic for everyone who came to help. A wood fire was already smoking meat by an old-fashioned chuck wagon. Then roundups would begin at other ranches, one after the other. The James Hill would be the biggest one in two weeks, and the River Mack would be the last one in May.

  Graham knew the basic concept. All the calves that had been born in the spring were required by law to be branded, doctored, tagged and counted. Most of the ranching in January and February had centered on putting out hay bales and other tame stuff, but roundup was the real deal, with the cattle herded into a fenced area by the hundreds, bawling and dusty. Cowboys on horseback rode among them, lassos at the ready, scattering the cattle as they looked for unbranded calves. The men threw their lassos at running calves while on running horses themselves.

  How long is that going to take me to learn?

  Ranching was nothing if not humbling.

  Graham enjoyed it, though. There was the same sense of camaraderie he’d once felt in a platoon, minus the threat of violence. Wrestling a cow to wash out an infected eye required as much teamwork as clearing an enemy bunker. Repairing fence lines had been as much a test of strength and grit as a road march wearing sixty-five pounds of war gear. The edgy sense of alertness that had never quite left Graham served a purpose once more, but rather than looking for things that might kill him, he was looking for things to fix, animals to help, weather to prepare for.

  Luke and Trey had offered him a six-month contract yesterday, and since Graham couldn’t imagine going back to suits and ties, he’d taken it. From what he’d seen so far this morning, he was going to need all six months to get proficient with a lasso. He stood at the fence with members of the Chavez family to watch and learn.

  Each calf was roped by either the head or the back leg—heading or heeling—and the horses would back up immediately to keep the ropes taut. Other cowboys on foot then ran in to lay the calf on its side. The calf was branded and doctored, then released from the ropes and allowed to trot back to the milling herd. Each calf was on the ground for less than a minute, a point of pride among the cowboys. The Chavezes’ herd of hundreds would be done in one day.

  Graham couldn’t watch the roping without thinking of Emily and her rodeo event. Then he couldn’t watch the roping because he was expected to give each calf a dose of medicine, working as part of the James Hill team as they took their turn to earn their supper.

  Luke and Trey manhandled the calves. There was a technique to it. When the calves were caught by the heel, they could be laid down pretty easily by using their tail and a leg. The ones caught by the head were more difficult, needing to be picked up completely off their feet and thumped onto their sides. That was hundreds of pounds of protesting, kicking beef that had to be manhandled. Obviously, everyone preferred the calves to be heeled.

  Sid and Bonner were on a streak. Ten consecutive calves had been brought to the branding irons by the head.

  “For the love of God, can’t you heel one?” Everyone had been razzing them for heading all the calves, but Luke was starting to get ticked off. He looked around the crowd of neighborhood cowboys milling at the fence. “Emily! Come save our backs. Sid, get out of there. Let Emily handle it.”

  Emily. Graham turned to look, and sure enough, there was the woman he loved, sitting on a horse she loved, wearing a braid down her back. She looked amazing in full color, vivid 3-D after a ten-week absence—not twelve. Had he ever said he didn’t want her to be an untouchable goddess? Too bad. She was a goddess on horseback.

  Trey slapped him on the back. “She just got in an hour ago. You’re supposed to be surprised.”

  “I am.” Not once during all their phone calls and video chats had she hinted that she’d be home today.

  Luke took off his hat and smacked it against his chaps to get the dust off. “Watch this. She gets it from me. I taught her everything she knows.”

  Graham watched. Emily might as well have been a centaur, she moved so fluidly with the horse as it cut in every direction, but it was her roping that thrilled the crowd. Within a minute, she rode over to them with her first calf, both of its back legs neatly caught in her lasso, making everyone else’s job easier. Everyone on the ground professed their love for her, but Graham meant it.

  He was going to marry her.

  * * *

  Emily stood before the main building on campus and posed for photos in her cap and gown with each person who had made the trip to her graduation. Her mother smoothed her stole and centered her summa cum laude gold cord at least every third shot.

  It was humbling how many people cared enough to make the long drive to Oklahoma. Her parents, grandparents, sisters and brother-in-law, Aunt Jessie and Uncle James, Trey and his fiancée, Luke and his wife were here, and Gus, who still claimed to be prettier than she was.

  And, of course, Benjamin Graham, who slayed her with a wink when nobody was looking. They had a secret.

  Everyone knew they were going to get married this year, and everyone knew that Graham had gotten her the best graduation gift a girl could want: cattle. The fifty thousand dollars he’d saved by not completing his master’s degree had purchased fifty head of a rare breed of cattle, one intended for a specialty market. The land for them to graze on was unaffordable, but the James Hill Ranch would allow her herd to graze there in return for half the calves born the first year.

  Emily and Graham had designed and registered their own brand. They’d both be working the entire herd at the James Hill, but from now on, at roundup and when moving cattle to auction, she and Graham were going to have to be on their best horses to cut their cattle out of the James Hill herd. She looked forward to it. She was a cattle rancher.

  “Okay, everyone,” her mother called. “Let’s head over to the restaurant. It’s time for the party.”

  Graham came up behind Emily and put his arms around her. Prom pose, cap and gown version. “You ready?”

  “You bet.”

  They waited until the rest of the group had cleared out, and then Emily took off her square cap. Her long hair flowed freely down her back, almost to her waist. She shed her graduation robe. Underneath, she wore a mini dress, one with bright, white ruffles up to her neck.

  She and Graham just had one stop to make before they met everyone at the restaurant. Her mother didn’t know it yet, but Emily’s graduation party was about to become a wedding reception.

  “This is going to be so fun.” Emily slid her fingers between Graham’s, and they ran all the way to the courthouse.

  * * * * *

  And don’t miss out on previous books in the TEXAS RESCUE miniseries:

  A COWBOY’S WISH UPON A STAR


  HER TEXAS RESCUE DOCTOR

  FOLLOWING DOCTOR’S ORDERS

  A TEXAS RESCUE CHRISTMAS

  Available now from Harlequin Special Edition!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE RANCHER’S UNEXPECTED FAMILY by Helen Lacey.

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  Acknowledgments

  I received much-needed support to complete this book, so I really must thank:

  Gail Chasan, for being so encouraging while keeping one eye on the clock for me so that I didn’t have to worry. Much.

  My husband, for five pans of enchiladas, fifty you-can-do-it-honeys, and a thousand real-life kisses to help me write one fictional kiss.

  Sam Hunt, for keeping me company all night long, one writing session after another, just us and the speakers on.

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  The Rancher’s Unexpected Family

  by Helen Lacey

  Chapter One

  There was one thing Cole Quartermaine knew, and that was that he knew nothing about how to handle surly teenagers.

  In particular, his surly teenage daughter, who was sulking in the passenger seat of his rental car, earbuds plugged into her ears, her mouth pressed into a flat, grim line.

  She hates me.

  No surprise there. It had been a fraught eight months since he’d first discovered the existence of fourteen-year-old Maisy, and that he was father to a girl who had no interest in getting to know him or having any kind of relationship. But he desperately wanted to work things out with his daughter…no matter how much she resisted. She didn’t care who he was, or that they shared the same blood. She called him Cole and he didn’t insist she say anything different.

  To be honest, he wasn’t even sure how he’d react if she actually did call him Dad.

  He concentrated on the drive and glanced to the right, at the sign welcoming them to town. Cedar River, South Dakota—population, three thousand and something. A speck on the map that sat in the shadow of the Black Hills. It was where he’d be staying for the next few weeks—a world away from Phoenix and the life he had there.

  But he had to do it. For Maisy’s sake. The last few months had been hard on them both. She didn’t want to be with him, she didn’t want anything to do with him or his folks or either of his younger sisters. And since the alternative was foster care, Cole knew this might be the only chance he had of truly connecting with his daughter. When his lawyer and friend, Joel, had suggested it, he’d resisted the idea. He wasn’t a small-town kind of person. He had lived most of his life in Phoenix, Arizona, although he’d traveled the country extensively when he was competing on the NASCAR circuit. But now that he was retired from racing and managing his family-owned race team, Cole spent the majority of the year in his city apartment in Phoenix.

  And this, he thought as he drove through Cedar River, with its one traffic light, wide wooden-planked sidewalks and mix of old and new storefronts, was not any kind of big city.

  He checked the GPS and took a left turn, crossing the river over a long bridge that took them east, with another five miles to travel. When the electronic voice from the GPS told him they had arrived at their destination, Cole turned right and went through a pair of wide, whitewashed gates. He looked down the long gravel driveway and spotted a ranch house in the distance. There were several other buildings dotted around the house, most of them smaller except for the huge red barn with a white roof that stood out like a beacon beneath the glow of the midmorning sun. Several horses and about a dozen head of cattle were grazing in the pasture, and he spotted a couple of dogs roaming around the ranch house.

  “We’re here,” he said, to himself more than anything, because his daughter hadn’t spared him more than a surly glance for the last thirty miles.

  Ignoring the heavy knot of tension in his gut, Cole pressed on the gas and headed down the driveway. He parked several yards from the main house and turned off the ignition, then unclipped his seat belt and turned toward his daughter.

  “Maisy?” He waited for a reply.

  After a moment she removed the earbuds and raised a bored eyebrow. “What?”

  “We’re here,” he said again and nodded toward the windshield.

  She glanced around and then shrugged. “Lucky me.”

  Cole fought the irritation climbing over his skin. He looked out the window and realized the place seemed deserted. Only the two large brown dogs were moving around the yard, circling the car warily. Great…maybe they were attack dogs. “Stay here,” he instructed and grasped the door handle. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She shrugged with a kind of disinterest he was becoming used to and popped the buds back into her ears. Cole looked at her and sighed as he got out of the car. One of the dogs barked as he closed the door and he took a couple of wary steps toward the house. He could hear music coming from the direction of the barn and then headed that way, watching as the dogs continued to circle around him as he walked. When he reached the barn he noticed how the hounds remained on either side of the door, as though they were standing on point and had been well trained to do so. The music was pure country and exactly what he’d expect to hear on a ranch on the outskirts of a town like Cedar River.

  “Hello?” he said and walked through the wide doors.

  He spotted an old truck in the corner, propped up on a set of jacks. Then he saw a pair of legs sticking out from beneath the tray, clad in jeans and attached to a set of curvy hips and then a bare, smooth belly peeking out of a grease-splattered T-shirt that was riding up over a taut set of abs. Cole came to an abrupt stop and stared at the shapely female form beneath the truck. His insides twitched with a kind instinctive reaction he suspected was wildly inappropriate, since he didn’t have a clue who she was. But still, he let his gaze linger for a moment, before clearing his throat and saying hello again.

  Then he heard a clang, a curse and then the hips shimmied across the ground and a woman sprang to her feet in front of him. The first things he noticed were her bright green eyes and thick red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. His gaze traveled down her throat, her full breasts, her small waist and finally to her booted feet.

  “Hey,” she said loudly and clearly, so she could be heard above the music as she tugged down her T-shirt. “My face is up here!”

  Heat smacked Cole squarely in his cheeks and he met her gaze instantly. She was younger than him, maybe around thirty, and was effortlessly pretty. There was a smear of grease on her forehead and another on her chi
n, but it did nothing to quell the instant and blisteringly hot attraction he experienced, like a bolt of lightning that came out of nowhere. Her green eyes glared at him and he bit back a grin. Feisty redheads weren’t on his radar, not when he had more important things to worry about.

  “My apologies,” he said and kept his eyes locked with hers. “When I walked in here I didn’t expect to find someone like you underneath the truck.”

  “Someone like me?” she queried, and regarded him as though he was a chauvinistic jerk who belonged in a cave. “Do you think women should stay in the kitchen and out of the garage?” she asked, and wiped her hands down her jeans, then turned off the radio.

  “Not at all,” Cole replied, his gaze unwavering. “I think it’s helpful to be good at most things.”

  Her brows rose steeply. “And are you?”

  “Good at most things?” He shrugged loosely. “Like most men I’d probably like to think so.”

  She laughed and the sound hit him directly in the middle of his chest. Then she held out her hand before he had a chance to speak. “You must be Mr. Quartermaine. I’m Ash McCune.”

  She’s Ash McCune…

  And not what he had been expecting. Joel had neglected to say how young and attractive his cousin was. Cole knew very little about her, other than the fact she was a police officer, a single mom and had been a foster mother to many kids during the past few years. Which is why he’d brought Maisy to her South Dakota ranch. He needed help with his daughter. And Joel had insisted that Ash McCune was exactly the lifeline he needed.

  The moment their fingertips met, heat immediately shot up his arm. “Please, call me Cole.”

  “Sure,” she said and removed her hand. “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you until late this afternoon.”