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

by Melinda Curtis

  Her youngest galloped to join his brothers.

  “Don’t.” Gertie worked her mouth around the sharp edges of the word. “They’re too young.”

  “Percy and Kyle would disagree.” Their grandfather and father. “The ranch’s fortunes have always ridden on the backs of Clarks.”

  “Bulls, Franny.” Danger, she meant.

  “I just need them to herd our stock into the arena, so we can get some training done.” No ferals.

  Gertie’s head was shaking. “No.”

  “You can’t say no to me.” Franny managed to keep her voice even. “I own the ranch.”

  The old woman pressed her lips into a pale, thin line.

  “We’ll be all right, Granny.” Davey ran over to hug her. “Mom knows what she’s doing.”

  Franny certainly hoped so. She gathered the boys and went to saddle up, lecturing her sons repeatedly the same way she’d lectured the Monroes earlier in the day.

  “We get it, Mom,” Davey finally told her from atop Yoda. “Do what you say, when you say it.”

  “Yep.” Charlie seconded his brother’s words from atop his pony.

  “I always follow Charlie, anyway,” Adam added. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’re Clarks.”

  They rode to the lower pasture.

  “The three-year-olds will know what’s going on and what to do,” Franny explained. “We’ll close the gate on either side of the driveway, open the pasture gate and herd them into the chute on the other side.” That was the easy part. “There are some heifers out here that were strays. We don’t want any in the chute. Davey, if you see heifers heading toward the gate, whoop it up to scare them off, but don’t move in their way. If they insist upon following the bulls, let them. Those heifers will learn crossing the road isn’t fun and won’t be so ready to run next time.”

  It was a straightforward process. And she was banking on the feral stock to keep their distance in the pasture.

  “Mom, I’ve done this before with Zeke and Emily,” Davey said testily. “You don’t have to nag.”

  “Me, too,” Charlie said, amending his statement when Davey gave him the stink eye. “It counts no matter which side of the fence you’re on, Davey.”

  Adam pouted. He’d never been allowed near the stock before.

  “You okay with this, my littlest man?” Franny asked her youngest. She was a bad mom for making her boys do this. Or she was a good mom and they’d thank her for giving them so much responsibility this early. It was a toss-up. “You can always hang out on the other side of the gate and supervise.”

  Adam sat up tall in the saddle. “Little men don’t hide, Mom.”

  Franny’s heart swelled with pride.

  They reached the set of gates. The herd was loosely gathered nearby. Franny dismounted, secured the two driveway gates to create a border crossing and then opened the pasture gate.

  She climbed back on Danger. “We can do this.” The words were as much for her benefit as her sons’. “Stay away from the ones with long horns.”

  She heeled Danger forward.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EMILY WATCHED THE Monroes traipse around Second Chance from Sophie’s trading post.

  What were they looking for?

  She’d thought if she was in town, she’d have a better opportunity to meet men. Or, since Bo had come to town, she’d assumed she’d have a better opportunity to get to know him.

  No such luck.

  An older gentleman climbed the steps to the trading post. He stopped at the top and rested his hand on the Edsel’s fender, winded. “I’m here to pick up the hand-carved trunk I ordered online.”

  “Mr. Jolly.” She’d been expecting him. “It’s in the back room. Come on in.”

  The trunk was hand-carved teak from Thailand, made in the early 1900s. The craftsmanship was exquisite.

  Not surprisingly, it passed Mr. Jolly’s inspection. “Do you have someone to help me put it in my truck?” It was listed on the product description as weighing seventy pounds.

  Having worked on a ranch all her life, Emily wasn’t a wimp. But Mr. Jolly didn’t look like he lifted more than an ice-tea glass on a hot day. “I can get help.” Bo! “Wait here while I have someone call for him.” She hurried next door and asked Laurel to contact her cousin. Meanwhile, Emily returned to the trading-post customer and tried to come up with a scintillating topic of conversation that Bo wouldn’t consider trying too hard.

  Politics? No.

  Sophie’s inventory? No.

  Ranch life? No.

  Footsteps sounded on the porch.

  Emily turned and smiled, her mind an empty sieve.

  Her smile fell.

  It wasn’t Bo.

  “I hear you need some help.” Jonah flexed his thin arms, making a muscle. “I’ve got you covered.”

  He was as lean as a rake as Granny Gertie would say, not at all convincing in the heavy-lifting department.

  “Give it your best shot.” She stepped aside and let the two men carry the trunk.

  To Jonah’s credit, he carried his end without complaint or even straining.

  When Mr. Jolly drove off, Emily returned to the trading post, followed by her least favorite Monroe.

  “What? I don’t get props for being stronger than I look?” Jonah dogged her steps.

  “You got me there.”

  “I suppose there’s a story in this.”

  Emily shuddered to think what that story was. “As long as it has a happy ending.”

  “Jonah!” Shane called from across the street, where he and Bo stood next to his black Hummer. “Come on. We’re headed out to the Bucking Bull.”

  “Again?” Emily huffed. There was more male action at the ranch than there’d ever been before. Was Franny doing this on purpose?

  She rejected the thought almost as soon as it came to mind. Franny wasn’t like that. Franny wasn’t interested in any man—even Shane, who was clearly smitten with her.

  “Yes, we’re going to the Bucking Bull again.” Jonah lingered, grinning. “See you around, cowgirl.”

  “Not if I see you first,” she retorted, rolling her eyes at her lame remark.

  Jonah brought out the worst in her.

  It was time to face the truth.

  She needed to plan her move to Alaska.

  * * *

  “WHY IS THIS gate blocking the road?” Shane pulled up to the barrier separating them from the ranch house. “It’s like a metaphor of my time in Second Chance. Blocked at every turn.”

  “There’s nothing deep about this. I’d say it’s closed to move cattle.” Bo pointed at a bull that trotted past them toward the pasture. “Park here. We’ll walk in.”

  Jonah hopped out of the back. “If I’d have known Second Chance was filled with one-of-a-kind experiences, myths and spine-chilling eeriness, I would have come with you in January.” Jonah had been full of if-I-would-have-known statements ever since they’d left the Bucking Bull this morning.

  Shane had a statement of his own: If I would have known the Bucking Bull was hiding Franny Clark, I would have visited the ranch in January.

  The three men opened each gate in turn and walked up the hill toward the ranch house. Banging metal had them veering toward the arena behind the barn.

  “Shane!” Gertie called out. She gestured him closer. “Stop her.”

  “Who? Franny?”

  Something was banging against the metal fencing in the arena. Something big. The barn blocked the arena from sight.

  “Yes—Franny.” Gertie rattled her walker and scowled at him. “She’s in the arena. With bulls and my boys.”

  A bolt of fear cut through him. Jonah and Bo had disappeared, taking a shortcut through the barn. He was fairly certain they’d make common sense prevail before he got there. The assumption al
lowed him a few moments for his quest to get answers about Grandpa Harlan.

  “Gertie.” He faced the old woman, intent upon getting answers. “In town, I found some of those photographs you told me about, like one with Hobart and Irene behind the church.”

  She nodded, seeming not at all surprised by his use of the names. She didn’t try to correct him. But then again, unlike Roy, she hadn’t sold property to Harlan or signed a confidentiality agreement.

  “Hobart was a minister?” Shane asked.

  Gertie nodded again. “We don’t have time for questions.”

  Shane hesitated. “We followed the bread crumbs this morning with Franny, almost to the top of the ridge. Do you think we were close to Merciless Mike’s gold?”

  More bangs from the arena. Bo shouted something Shane didn’t catch.

  Gertie paled. “I’ll tell you once Franny is safe.”

  “Shane!” That was Jonah, standing in the breezeway of the barn. “You’d better get over here. Hurry.”

  Shane ran, slowed only by his cowboy boots.

  The brown bull with the white patch over his eye, the one that had tried to run Franny over just that morning, was banging against the chute. Franny leaned over the top railing, cinching a strap around the bull’s hips.

  “Are you planning to ride that thing?” Shane couldn’t contain his horror.

  “No.” She straddled the bull, balancing one foot on the metal chute railing. She spared Shane a glance. “At least, not if you are.”

  Shane was surprised that he didn’t stop in his tracks. He kept walking. This woman... She needed help. And he... His father would say he needed his head examined, because he hadn’t told her he wouldn’t get on that bull in her place.

  “I’m kidding.” Franny grinned. “This is a two-year-old bull. He’s been exposed to the flank strap before and also carried some weight. This—” she held up a metal contraption that looked like two triangles with a third triangle missing from the middle “—is a remote-controlled rider. Technically, a weighted box with an ejection button.” She bent the straps at the dangerous end of the bull.

  Who was Shane kidding? Both ends of the bull were dangerous.

  Franny was unfazed. “When he bucks hard or spins quickly, we’ll press the release button. The flank strap and the weight will fall off.” She straightened and looked around to find her kids. “Ready, boys? Whose turn is it?”

  “Mine!” Little Adam stood up. He held a small device in his hand.

  “Don’t release it early.” Charlie made it sound like his little brother had done some early releasing already.

  “I’m next,” Davey called from the gate at the far end of the arena. “I can’t be on release duty all the time. That’s not fair.”

  “I thought you said you trained bulls with cowboy riders.” Shane reached Franny’s side and stared up at her. She was magnificent, calm and confident, and in control of the beast.

  It scared him to death. Where had Bo and Jonah gone?

  She settled her cowboy hat more firmly on her head. “Three-year-olds and up get live riders. We don’t have many of those. For today, we’re just using the remote.” She caught Adam’s eye. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” The kindergartner spread his feet and held out the remote.

  Franny inched along the railings until she reached a spot with a rope. It was attached to the gate latch, the one holding the bull in the chute. “Come on, baby. Give it your all.” She pulled the rope, opening the gate.

  Freed, the bull leaped a good six feet forward. And then he began to buck. Small kicks at first, and then higher. The earth shook from his landings.

  “Adam!” Franny cried. “Release!”

  The boy did as requested. “Ah, Mom. I wanted him to spin.”

  The strap fell away from the bull’s haunches and the metal rider tumbled to the dirt. The bull zigzagged around the arena, finally spotting Davey and the open gate on the far end.

  “This stock guy coming to see you.” Shane gave Franny a hand getting down. “Is he looking for two-year-olds?”

  “He’ll buy the twos.” Franny waited for Davey to close the gate behind the exiting bull before heading into the arena for her equipment. “He really wants prime athletes that are five and six, but he’ll take three-and four-year-olds, too.”

  “Do you have any older bulls?”

  She shook her head. “Just the ferals and I can’t let them in the arena until we dehorn them.”

  “They’ll need riders?” Shane asked. “Live ones?” Not metal contraptions with remote-control ejection buttons?

  “That’s where I come in.” Bo appeared, wearing what looked like a bulletproof vest and a crash helmet.

  * * *

  “BO, ARE YOU sure you know how to do this?” Shane was suddenly struck with worry.

  And it wasn’t for Franny, who rode that big black horse of hers and gave instructions to Charlie, who was going to operate the exit gate.

  “Of course I’m not sure.” Bo straddled the bull while standing on the railings. He stared down at the black beast. “Can you at least use my sacrifice to barter for the use of the road?”

  “What road?” Davey clung to a railing a safe distance away.

  “The road to the cemetery,” Bo said before Shane could counsel him to silence.

  “Nobody goes up there,” Davey said solemnly. “Not even the government. It’s part of the woods and the woods are off-limits.”

  “That’s why it’s the perfect place to hide Merciless Mike’s gold,” Bo grumbled. “Under a photograph of your great-grandfather and my grandfather.”

  “He’s joking, Davey.” Shane gave Bo the high sign, but his cousin wasn’t looking.

  “I remember now why I stopped bull riding as a kid.” Bo glared at Shane. “But I’ve suddenly forgotten who I made beneficiary of my life-insurance policy.”

  “I hope it was me,” Jonah said glibly, red hair glinting in the sunlight. “I could use seed money for my film.”

  “It wasn’t you,” Bo snapped.

  “We’re ready down here.” Franny positioned her horse near the fence at the middle of the arena. She’d explained she was there to release the straps from the bull and herd him out the exit gate.

  “Why don’t we strap that metal thing on him instead?” Shane scanned the area, looking for it.

  “Your compassion shows no bounds.” Bo was angry. “I’m only doing this if you get the key to that road, Shane.”

  “I know where the key is,” Davey declared. “But I’ll want to go with you.”

  “Your mother will never allow it, kid.” Bo drew a deep breath. “On second thought, I don’t want the key. I’ll take Jonah riding the next bull as payment for this. You always talk about living what you write.”

  Jonah drew back. “I draw the line at bull riding.”

  “It’ll help your story. That is, if you live, sticks.” Bo squeezed the strap again. “Limber up. Stretch. It might make the whiplash a little less painful.” He lowered himself onto the bull’s back. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Jonah released the gate and the bull leaped into the arena. “Shouldn’t we have a rodeo clown to rescue Bo if he gets in trouble?”

  “Shouldn’t you have asked that before you released the gate?” Shane said just as Bo went flying, landing hard in the dirt.

  Charlie banged the metal railing on the opposite end of the arena. “Over here, you stupid bull! Over here!”

  The bull continued to buck in the vicinity of Bo. Franny galloped closer, whistling sharply and slapping her lasso against her leg.

  “Get up, Mr. Bo.” Davey had climbed onto the railing, where he was dangerously close to the kicking bull. He hooked his elbow around the rail and leaned toward the passing bull, as if he was going to release the strap that was making the animal buck. Franny wasn’t close
enough to make a grab for the strap. And now the bull’s hooves were landing near Bo’s head.

  “We need a rodeo clown,” Jonah shouted.

  Shane jumped into the arena, hit the ground running and yelled, “Get back, Davey.” Shane waved his arms in front of the bull, who responded by spinning around and leaping his way.

  But first, the bull had to pass by Davey again.

  Davey reached down and swiftly released the cinch at the bull’s waist. That kid was just like his mother and didn’t listen to anyone.

  The bull stopped kicking up his heels and huffed, as out of shape as a football player on the first day of training camp. It ran toward Charlie and the open gate.

  “I’m okay.” Davey straddled the arena fence, strap in hand. “You need to help Mr. Bo.”

  Shane ran to his cousin. Bo was wheezing like a balloon with a slow leak. He’d gotten the wind knocked out of him and couldn’t catch his breath.

  “Bo?” Jonah had scrambled over the arena fence and skidded into the dirt at Bo’s side.

  “We’ve got to pound him on the back.” Shane dragged Bo to his feet and whacked him for all he was worth.

  The wheezing continued. Bo’s eyes were wide.

  “Darn vest is too thick.” On the next try, Shane hit him hard enough that Bo dropped to his knees and gulped in air.

  “Oh, no.” Jonah yanked Bo’s arm, pulling him to his feet. “Run, Bo. Run!”

  Shane heard the pounding hooves before he turned.

  “Charlie, you were supposed to shut the gate to the chute.” Davey’s voice was rife with fear. “Look out, everybody! He’s coming back.”

  Jonah and Bo had a head start, tearing the twenty feet or so to the fence.

  Shane bolted after them.

  In the chute, on the other side of the rail, the bull ran, outpacing Shane.

  Jonah reached the fence, pulling Bo along with him. Together they climbed clumsily to safety.

  The Clark boys were shouting. Bo and Jonah were shouting. Shane couldn’t make out their words, but he could hear the pounding of hooves as he sprinted.

  The bull cleared the chute, spotted Shane and charged toward him.