Lassoed by the Would-Be Rancher--A Clean Romance

by Melinda Curtis

  Bo moved over to Dastardly’s stall. “I’ll take this one.”

  The big black gelding had been sired by the same stallion as Franny’s horse. He’d been Kyle’s and bore a scar on his chest where he’d been gored the day Kyle had been killed.

  “I don’t think so.” Franny came over to stroke Dastardly’s velvety nose. “Only Emily rides him anymore.” And who knew if he’d be skittish when he smelled cattle.

  “I’ll be fine.” Bo thumbed his chest. “Texan, remember. Show me where his tack is.”

  “Hey, Texan.” Shane appeared at Franny’s shoulder, so close she could feel his warmth. “Have you ever ridden a bull?”

  Bo crossed his arms over his broad chest and gave Shane a look that said, Duh.

  “You’ll do.” Shane squeezed Franny’s shoulder and whispered, “Logistics.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” Jonah said. “Bull riding?”

  “It’s typical Shane.” Unconcerned, Bo headed for the tack room. “You always get more than you bargained for.”

  “That’s because no one in the family ever makes me spell out the bargain,” Shane whispered in Franny’s ear. And then, louder, he said, “Which horse am I riding?”

  “How about Daisy?” she replied. The older, dappled gray Bo had turned down.

  Shane was standing too close to Pandora’s stall. She was Zeke’s horse and a bit of a character. Pandora reached over the stall door and nibbled the hair on the back of Shane’s head. He swatted her away. “Hey, hey! Don’t do that!”

  Franny bit back a smile. “Looks like Pandora wants you to take her for a ride again.” He’d ridden her yesterday morning with Davey.

  Shane eyed the mare dubiously. “As long as she won’t take me for a ride.”

  “You’ll be fine. Horses tend to stick with the herd.” Franny got down to business, saddling the horses. She added a lariat to her rig, plus the shotgun, and then gave Jonah a refresher course in riding. “Because it’s been a long time since you’ve been on board.”

  Finally, the foursome set out, pausing so Shane could show his cousins the old photo of Gertie and Percy in the tree.

  He, Jonah and Bo all waved to Gertie, who stood in the doorway of the ranch house, fully dressed and hair properly combed. Franny took that as a good omen.

  As they entered the trees, Jonah called to Franny, “Do you have a plan for us to round up the cattle? Seeing as how we can’t rope.”

  She did. “Think of yourself as part of a fishing net. Most of our stock will go out of their way to stay out of our way. They know the spring pasture has green grass this time of year and they’ll head there, and then, if we point them in the right direction, toward an open gate.”

  “And the other cattle?” Shane asked, picking up on what she hadn’t said. “The wild ones?”

  “They don’t often show themselves to a large group of riders.” The joy Franny had felt when they’d arrived began to wane. She couldn’t guarantee the Monroes’ safety.

  “So, we aren’t going to go after anything without the Bucking Bull brand?” Shane rode behind her and spoke at a low volume the others might not catch.

  He hasn’t warned them about the danger, either.

  Guilt knifed Franny’s shoulder blades. “Not unless the rare opportunity presents itself.” Franny was reassured to hear birds chirping happily and hoped they’d continue. She turned in the saddle so she could see all three Monroes. “Here’s how it’s going to go, gentlemen. For your safety, you need to do everything I say, when I say it.”

  Shane frowned. “But what about—?”

  “No buts,” she interrupted, patting the shotgun holster strapped to her saddle. “We’ll always ride single file, follow the leader. And when we get to the upper pasture, we’ll spread out and head back this way.”

  “All right, little lady,” Bo said with a twang, doing a bad impression of John Wayne.

  “No problem with this merry-go-ride.” Jonah looked pleased with his pun.

  Franny rode to the point where the trail disappeared into the woods, looking back at her ramshackle crew. Hoping that none of them got hurt. Hoping that they’d be no big deal to the feral bull who presided over the wild herd.

  Lost in thought, Franny didn’t see a bull lunge out of the trees. Straight at her!

  There was no time to scream. Danger leaped out of the way, nimbler than any bull on a good day.

  The bull ran toward the open pasture, slowing down after looking back to see if they were following him. He was brown with a big white patch over one eye.

  No big deal.

  It was no big deal, all right. That bull had the Bucking Bull brand and no horns.

  Nevertheless, Franny’s hands shook while holding onto the reins. She patted Danger’s neck and was effusive in her praise.

  Shane bounced in the saddle as Pandora trotted up beside her. “Is that normal? A bull charging you like that?”

  Behind Shane, his cousins closed the distance, eyes wide as they scanned the area.

  “It’s not normal.” Shane lowered his voice. “Your hands are shaking.”

  Franny shushed him, not wanting his cousins to hear. “I’ll be fine.”

  Two yearling bulls rustled through the brush, cast worried glances their way and trotted after the big bull that had tried to run down Franny.

  A flash of light in a tree to their left caught her eye. “Look, Shane. It’s one of those photos you like so much.” Over by a gate bordering federal property.

  The diversion worked. The Monroes rode toward the tree talking about the picture, bull forgotten.

  Leaving Franny to collect herself, forgetting nothing.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  NOT ONLY DID Shane have to worry about angry, horned behemoths emerging from the overgrowth, but now Franny’s domesticated stock was also proving they were worry-worthy, too.

  Shane cast a glance over at Franny.

  “I’m fine.” She waved him off.

  He knew she was lying. She kept clenching and unclenching her reins.

  Shane was the last to reach the tree with the photograph. The bark had grown so that only the faces and shoulders of the people in the picture were showing.

  “That’s Grandpa Harlan.” Bo’s horse stood obediently next to the tree. “And his doppelgänger.”

  “Identical twins?” Jonah lowered his sunglasses and squinted at the picture. “Or a clone?”

  “Spare me the Hollywood explanation.” Bo never missed a chance to rib Jonah. “It’s got to be a cousin. Grandpa Harlan didn’t have brothers.”

  “We don’t know that for sure.” Shane leaned forward in the saddle for a closer look. “In fact...” He sat back in the saddle. “I should have remembered this sooner. Last month, two people mentioned what a great person Hobart was. I thought they’d misremembered Grandpa Harlan’s name. But what if they hadn’t?” Shane tapped the plastic. “What if this was his brother?”

  “If that man is family, there’s a reason no one’s ever mentioned him to us.” Bo’s dark eyebrows lowered. “But why?”

  “Maybe Hobart wanted part of Grandpa Harlan’s fortune.” Jonah stared at Shane. “Maybe Harlan paid him to stay quiet?”

  “If that was the case, he’d have been mentioned in the will.” Shane glanced up as Franny approached on horseback. “Or Hobart would still be here in Second Chance.” That was highly unlikely given Shane had made it a priority to meet everyone in town, although he hadn’t checked the cemetery.

  “Gentlemen, we need to keep moving.” Franny rode up beside Shane, easily guiding her horse next to his. “Those pictures are everywhere out here.”

  “Really?” Shane gestured toward a narrow trail that had been made behind the tree. “Where does that path lead to?”

  Franny followed the direction of his gaze. “Path? That�
��s more like a deer track. And it goes up the mountain to federal land.”

  “Can we follow it?” Shane asked quickly. “Just for a little while. There’s a gate.”

  “Is that why you offered to help?” Franny used her chin to gesture to the trail. “So you could follow Gertie’s bread crumbs?”

  “She’s onto you.” Bo chuckled.

  “It’s just a detour.” Shane forced himself to hold Franny’s gaze, to try and look sincere and not think about her kiss. “A few minutes of your time in exchange for a few minutes of ours.”

  Franny tilted her head, as if listening for birds, and whether they sang overhead. “Okay.” She urged her horse forward and opened the gate. She latched it after Bo, who was the last to ride through. “Just this once.”

  “Thank you.” Shane followed her along the trail. Brush swept over his legs, none too gently. He didn’t care. “I bet there’s a cabin at the end of this trail. Or the boulder that had crushed the infamous Merciless Mike Moody.” Their discovery was going to change the fate of Second Chance. It was going to change how Shane’s family felt about him.

  Franny groaned. “I keep telling you, Merciless Mike’s gold is a myth.”

  “For once—” Jonah ignored their guide “—I’m not going to take your bet, Shane.”

  “Shane and his hunches,” Bo scoffed from the rear.

  The trail wound its way up the mountain. Anticipation wound even tighter in Shane’s chest. He could feel how close they were to an answer.

  “Here’s another one.” Franny sounded surprised as she stopped near a tree.

  “Yes!” Shane was excited now. “We’re onto something.”

  “Maybe,” Bo allowed. “The trail is getting steeper. How much longer can we follow it on horseback?”

  “No one’s going on foot.”

  Shane had to agree with Franny there.

  They continued on. The trail began to switch back and forth, leading them to another photo.

  “Same three guys,” Jonah said excitedly. “This is weird. Like a good weird. Like multimillion-dollar-script kind of weird.”

  Franny stared at the ground, and then scanned their surroundings.

  “I still hear birds,” Shane told her, not wanting to turn back yet. “And I don’t see any tracks.”

  Franny said nothing, but she pressed on.

  Shane didn’t want to worry, but that seemed to be his stock-in-trade lately. He kept an eye out.

  “Why would they put their pictures in trees on federal land?” Bo wondered.

  “Back then it was all Clark property.” Franny was still focused on the earth beneath her horse’s hooves. “My grandfather-in-law sold it to the government fifty years ago, I think.”

  “Oh, man.” Jonah’s voice was filled with excitement. “We’re going to find something. We’re going to find—”

  “Merciless Mike Moody’s treasure,” Shane said, cutting him off.

  “Hey, that’s my line.” Jonah chuckled.

  “This is getting a little far-fetched.” Franny didn’t turn around. “It’s a myth.”

  She could do nothing to crush Shane’s spirits. “Come on, Franny. I swear our grandfathers found Merciless Mike’s loot.”

  Franny pulled her horse to a halt. She turned him sideways, blocking the trail, her face draining of color. “We need to go.”

  “Yes,” Jonah said from behind Shane. “We need to go on. We need to follow this trail.”

  Franny lifted her gaze to Shane’s. There was worry in those gray eyes. Actually, there was more than that. There was outright fear. “There are very large hoofprints here, along with a very large, fresh pile of manure.” She pointed to the evidence.

  “Bear?” Jonah asked, making Bo chuckle. For whatever reason, they’d been joking about bear traps since they’d arrived.

  “Bull.” Franny pulled the shotgun free of its holster and then headed down the hill, weaving through bushes to get around the Monroe men. “Come on.”

  For once, Jonah and Bo were speechless.

  “But...” Shane paused to listen.

  A bird twittered in the distance. The only branches snapping came from Franny and her horse. And yet, the hair on the back of Shane’s neck rose.

  “Aren’t we looking for bulls?” Jonah asked.

  “Not bulls that big,” Franny called back to him, already twenty feet away.

  “She’s right. We have to go.” Shane followed her lead, waiting to say more once he caught up to her. “Although at some point we do need to find out where the trail ends.”

  “I can tell you where it goes next.” Franny had the shotgun resting loosely in her arm. She looked like a throwback to a pioneer woman of the Old West. “About a hundred more yards and you’d reach the ridge. There used to be a fire lookout station up there next to the Clark family cemetery, but the station burned last year.”

  “If we’re that close, why can’t we just continue to head on up there?” Bo asked.

  “Because...” Franny turned in the saddle to face them, lowering her weapon. “There’s something out here. Something big and wild and dangerous. I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “She’s joking, right?” Jonah demanded. “I’m the only one allowed to joke about things like that. Me, the soon-to-be writer of horror films.”

  “She’s not joking.” Shane swallowed a bitter dose of nerves. He could feel something watching them.

  They passed through the gate uneventfully and returned to Clark land. They rode through the upper pasture without incident. As Franny had promised, her cattle moved as if they knew where they were supposed to go—closer to the ranch house. In a few short hours, all the strays were accounted for.

  “Franny.” Inside the barn, Shane dismounted. He waited for his contorted legs to go back to where they belonged before he attempted to join her at a stall. “Those tracks... Were they made by the bull we saw yesterday?”

  “I told you. That was a smaller feral yesterday.” The lines on Franny’s face were strained and she was whispering. “I’ve never seen tracks that large.”

  Shane wanted to draw her close and forget about feral things altogether. But he couldn’t let the mystery of his grandfather’s photo trail go unsolved.

  “You’re talking my language, Franny.” Jonah remained sitting on Davey’s horse. “Again, the fact that there are clever killer bulls on this mountain is awesome. I’d love to see that cemetery. Maybe spend the night and soak in the atmosphere.”

  “That wouldn’t be wise.” Franny took Jonah’s reins and tied up his horse to a stall ring.

  “The fact that you say that means I have to do it. Don’t you see?” Jonah swung his leg around and slid down the side of the horse, hanging onto the saddle as if he might fall to the ground. “I write a movie about possessed bulls with a based-on-true-events caption and everybody is going to want to come to Second Chance.”

  “And drive up the mountain where the daddy of all bulls is?” Franny huffed and moved to Shane’s mount. “So now you want to get strangers killed, too? Take a look at Buttercup, will you. He’s smaller than whatever’s lurking out there.”

  “Did you say drive up the mountain?” Shane picked up on her slip. “Is there a road to the cemetery?” Of course there was.

  Franny winced as she loosened Pandora’s girth strap. “Look, I appreciate what you’ve done for me today. Twenty more head, strays plus ferals, which means I’ve got bulls with some great potential for rodeo stock. But... I shouldn’t tell you this. You’re right. There’s a road on the other side of the ridge. It’s a dirt road on federal land, but we have an easement. If you had permission—which I won’t give you—you could take it to the point where the trail reaches the remains of the fire station and the Clark graveyard.” Her voice was unsteady. She was scared. Scared of the feral bull that had killed her husband. “I�
�ve got to get the horses put up, and then I need to go into town and pick up the boys.”

  “I need to find the rest of those pictures,” Shane said softly.

  Franny removed the saddle from Pandora, relinquishing it to Shane when he slid his arms beneath it, hands brushing over her skin. “Shane, you don’t understand. There are so many pictures in trees in Second Chance that I don’t think about them anymore. They’re behind the trading post and in the tree line above the schoolhouse. You could be making this out to be nothing.”

  Putting yourself at risk for nothing.

  That’s what she didn’t say.

  Shane knew he should heed her warning. But he’d had too many months of unknowns to slow down what little momentum he had.

  “There are photos in trees in town?” Shane pounced on the alternative. “Can you show them to us?”

  “No, I... You know I can’t spare the time.” She moved to Davey’s horse. “I’ve got to dehorn those feral bulls, not to mention find someone to take a ride on one.”

  Bo’s head shot up. “I thought you were kidding about bull riding.”

  “I can’t ask that of you, even if you are from Texas.” Franny spoke in a faraway tone. “Worst case, I’ll take a few bull rides myself.”

  “Franny.” Shane glared at everyone and everything in the barn, including Franny. “You will not ride a bucking bull.”

  Her chin went up. “The buck stops here, Shane. It’s got to be done or my kids won’t eat.”

  Something in Shane’s chest constricted at the sight of the tightening lines fanning from her eyes and the stiffness of her shoulders. She was taking on the burden of the ranch alone.

  Hello, irony.

  Because he was alone, too. Alone in the midst of a large family, juggling many of the Monroe interests by himself rather than organizing things by committee. The difference was Shane wasn’t risking his life.

  “We’ll come back tomorrow,” Shane promised, picking up a brush and running it over Pandora the way Davey had taught him. “Don’t do anything until we return.”