A Cowboy for Clementine (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Floyd, Susan

“How many will you need?”

  “Five or six would be good. Tell them the pay’s good.”

  Clem gulped. “I don’t think I can come up with wages for six.”

  “I’ve got it,” Dexter said, clipped. “You just get them lined up. If we find the cows, we’ll want to get going right away.”

  Without you was left unsaid, leaving Clem with the urge to salute him as he walked out.

  THE AFTERNOON WENT QUICKLY. Clem spent most of her time on the phone, either pleading for more time on payments or trying to recruit cowboys. With each phone conversation, she stretched her father’s credibility just that much further. Most everyone in the surrounding community knew about the fiasco with the cows, which seemed to make them cluck at her sympathetically. In the end, she could only rustle up two definite yeses, two maybes—depending on when they were needed—and six nos. She went through her father’s Rolodex three times, looking at all of his cryptic notes, hoping for an odd phone number that would lead her to another hand. But it was late in the season and most cowboys had already booked with other ranches for branding, something Clem wouldn’t be doing this season.

  Clem shuffled the papers around her father’s desk, a monstrous piece of walnut, and tried to push aside the feelings that she should be riding with Dexter, Randy and Ryan. She resented the fact that Dexter was as changeable as the weather and that his work and private life were so deeply entwined— as she’d discovered the hard way while treading through his private life.

  She ran her hands over the finely sanded wood of her father’s desk, feeling like a fraud. The leather wing chair dwarfed her. The seat Jim Wells had left was, literally and metaphorically, a big one. If it hadn’t been for her mother, she wouldn’t have been trying to fill it. And she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

  She inhaled deeply. Family legends had it that Clem had been born on the desk, after a storm had kept Claire and Jim from getting to the hospital. In fact, her father loved to tell visitors that the deep marks on either side of the desk had been made by Claire during the contractions, although a truer explanation was probably that they were old bear markings on the original tree.

  There was so much history to this desk, to this ranch. Coming back to run it had not been only a financial necessity, but a personal one, as well. Clem closed her eyes tight and wished for two miracles—one to erase the dismal numbers in front of her, and the other to give her just the smallest glimpse of her true self. She opened her eyes and still saw two months of unpaid bills. She talked to her father regularly, but she hadn’t divulged the full extent of the problem. He knew she hadn’t got the whole herd in, though the nine hundred she’d brought in had carried her through the summer.

  “You know, honey, if this is too much, I can come back and help.”

  Clem had seen the concern in her father’s eyes, but she’d just shaken her head. “No, Dad. I bought the cows. I’ll figure it out.”

  “I just hope you know we don’t mind helping.”

  Clem knew that, and in some ways it was the worst thing for her. She didn’t want to always fly with a safety net. For once, she wanted to do a job on her own.

  Her father continued. “I know you and your mother have talked, and your mother really wants to give you this time, but remember, it’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help.”

  Clem knew that. It’s not all about you. Dexter’s words came back to her in full force. That was the problem. It’d always been about her. Her parents hadn’t sold their ranch for her. Everything that her parents had done had been for her. Clem clenched her fist. Since people—namely, her father, her mother and her ex-husband—had always done for her, she’d never really known how to fend for herself. Worse, she wasn’t sure she could. The realization made her stomach roll.

  You’ll have to grow a slightly thicker skin.

  Clem jumped up and walked to the kitchen, disturbed to find that her thoughts were following her around. She plucked two chickens out of the refrigerator and carried them over to the sink. She rinsed the chicken, watching the pink juice swirl down the drain. She hated the fact that Dexter was right. It wasn’t about her, and at the same time, it was.

  She rubbed thyme, garlic, salt and paprika into the skin and then placed the two birds on a roaster and popped it into the oven. While the chickens cooked, she made three batches of corn bread. She saw how quickly the two batches of biscuits had disappeared the night before. Then she made a green salad, steamed broccoli and whipped up a batch of au gratin potatoes. When she saw she had more time, she made an apple pie. She was sweating by the end, but she felt purged and strong. She knew what she needed to do.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE BACK DOOR OPENED just as Clem was pulling the chickens, perfectly basted and browned, out of the oven. She looked over her shoulder to see all three men walk in, talking and laughing.

  “Good news, I hope,” she said.

  “Almost good news,” Ryan countered. He had the maps rolled up under his arm.

  “You found the cows?”

  “We found evidence of the cows. So we know they’re around and we know that they’re close,” Randy said. He leaned over her to take a big sniff of the chicken. “That smells great. I’m starved.”

  “It’ll be about twenty minutes before the rest of the corn bread is finished baking, but you guys can start on this.”

  “Take your time,” Ryan said.

  Dexter had stayed conspicuously quiet.

  “Did you find what you thought you would?” Clem asked him.

  “Yeah, sure.” His glance flickered over her and she felt dismissed.

  She reminded herself that it wasn’t all about her and she felt considerably better.

  When she served the last of the corn bread, she smiled at the empty carcasses, the depleted salad bowl, two miserable stalks of broccoli and the crust around the au gratin bowl.

  “We made you a plate,” Ryan reassured her. “When Randy went back for thirds, Dex thought it would be a good idea if our hostess didn’t starve while cooking for us.”

  “Thank you.” She directed her comment to Dexter, who nodded briefly, as she sat down. It was a generous plate, heaped with chicken, both light and dark meat, potatoes and salad pieces falling off the plate.

  A moment later, the maps were spread out, and Ryan started to put crosses by places where one or two cows had been spotted, circles where there were smaller herds in groups of ten to fifteen.

  “We found fecal evidence— Sorry, Clem,” Ryan apologized over his shoulder. “You’re still eating.”

  “That’s okay.” Undaunted, she continued to chew.

  “We found evidence of more than two hundred right here.” Randy made a square right on the edge of one of the twin peaks.

  Clem’s eyes widened. “They made it that far?”

  Ryan nodded. “Any farther and they’d be working their way over the other side of the mountain. Some rancher on that end would be mighty happy.”

  “How’d you do with the extra men?” Dexter asked.

  It was the first real remark he’d addressed to her.

  “Not as well as I hoped.”

  Three pairs of eyes were trained on her.

  “What’s not as well as you hoped?” Randy asked.

  “I have two for sures, two maybes, and lots of nos. It’s a busy time of year.”

  “Can we do it with only two more?” Randy looked from his brother to Dexter.

  Ryan nodded slowly. “We’d have to plan differently. But we could do it. If they had good horses.”

  “Anyway, you’d have at least three,” Clem said.

  “I thought you said just two were yeses,” Randy said, his brow furrowing.

  “I make three.”

  “No!” shot out of Dexter’s mouth so fast that all eyes turned on him.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Dexter said with a scowl so fierce that if Clem hadn’t known better she would have been inclined to think that the response was out of proportion
with the request.

  “I wasn’t ‘thinking,’” Clem insisted before Randy and Ryan could say anything. “I am going to ride with you.”

  “We can talk about it later, Clem,” Randy said, trying to smooth over the tension that had filled the room.

  “We do need a good guide. It’d sure be a lot easier if we had someone who knew where she was going. Clem might know a few shortcuts that will save hours,” Ryan ventured, his manner businesslike.

  Clem reeled from the force of the fear in Dexter’s eyes. Randy, however, seemed encouraged, though by what, Clem had no idea. Maybe it was the fact that Dexter’s scowl had turned into a glower.

  Randy backed up Ryan. “If she came for the prelims, then once the hard stuff starts, she could keep the corrals and the walkie-talkie. We could use a good point man, er, point woman there. That’d free up a man for the other stuff.”

  Ryan nodded. “That’s a great idea.”

  “No!” burst out of Clem.

  Randy’s generally lighthearted gaze turned serious as he looked at Clem. She read his message loud and clear. If you want to go just shut up and let me do the talking. But Clem wasn’t about to let anyone do the talking for her, no matter how well-meant.

  “I’m not going to sit back while you do all the hard work,” Clem clarified. She’d never been so assertive about anything in her life. Even when her marriage was falling apart she hadn’t fought for it. Would the end have been different if she’d refused to let go when Nick had wanted out? She took a deep breath and said calmly, “From now on, I’m going to be riding with you.”

  “I said no.” Dexter seemed to have recovered his sense of humor. He rearranged his facial features and gave her a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. It was as if he didn’t expect her to realize that a mouth turned up at the corners wasn’t necessarily a smile. Maybe he thought a fake smile would soften the blow. He was mistaken.

  Clem’s eyes met his, and she saw a steel in there. She felt her inner strength waver. Was she crazy? It would be so much easier to stay home. But the more he protested, the more she knew she needed to go. Deep inside her, she realized that his objections probably had more to do with his sister than her.

  “This is not a request,” Clem said, her voice flat. “This is my ranch.”

  Dexter regarded her seriously for a full minute, then said, “I won’t be putting anyone at risk trying to save your skin.”

  “I can look after my own skin, thank you very much. Besides, there’s not enough time for you all to wander around for weeks on end.”

  “If we ‘wander’ around for weeks on end, it will be because of your poor judgment in choosing cattle. Remember—we’re doing you the favor. If you don’t want it, just say so and we’ll be on our way tomorrow.”

  DEXTER DIDN’T MEAN TO SOUND so blunt. His disagreement with her should have been settled privately. To shut himself up, he clenched his jaw and turned his attention away from Clem, who looked angry enough to pop the top of her skull off.

  What in fool’s name was that woman thinking?

  There was no way he’d let her go. Only an idiot would make the same mistake twice. No one was going to pull her limp, lifeless body out of a gorge. He’d watched that once before and he wasn’t about to repeat the experience. He’d tried to stop thinking about that before he remembered another face, a face he’d never cried for. An elfin face sporting a gutsy smile and a devil-may-care attitude—an attitude that had taken her right over the edge of a mountain. If the fall hadn’t killed her instantly, she would have been irreparably damaged, probably paralyzed. In some ways what happened was for the best.

  That’s what everyone had told him.

  They’d also told him it wasn’t his fault. She’d died doing what she loved. Then they’d said they wished that when their time came, it would be over as quickly. That somehow didn’t make him feel better. Or ease the gnawing guilt that permeated every moment of his day.

  He could have stopped Joanna, but he hadn’t.

  He’d wanted his sister to have everything and could deny her nothing. Not even when she’d pleaded to go with him to look for a particularly stubborn bull. With Randy, Ryan and Ben riding shotgun, he hadn’t wanted to say no. It was only after that he’d realized if he had said no, he wouldn’t have had to watch Randy carry Joanna’s broken body out of the gorge. He wouldn’t have had to see the pain on Randy’s face. Randy and Joanna had made no formal promises to each other, but Ryan had told Dex that after the funeral Randy had returned their grandmother’s ring to the family vault.

  “You’re right,” Clem said loudly.

  Dexter pulled his attention back to Clementine, grateful for the distraction. Randy thought with that shade of hair, defiant tilt to the chin, and similar smile, Clem resembled Joanna. But to Dexter, those resemblances were superficial, where it counted, the two women were different. Joanna had been able to take care of herself. He knew because he’d spent most of his life teaching her how. It was the only way he could make sure she didn’t have to depend on anyone. He’d wanted Joanna to choose to be in a good relationship and not be forced to stay with a man who didn’t love her. Clem had spent her entire life depending on other people, and he didn’t want to be next in line.

  “You may be right,” Clem repeated, the volume of her voice rising as if she thought the louder she talked the more convincing she would sound. Her fingers fiddled with her locket, belying the authority of her words. “It was my mistake for getting greedy,” she admitted. “Choosing those cows was a stupid greenhorn mistake. There, I said it. Now, let’s get past that and talk business.”

  “You can help us, just by getting us here,” Ryan agreed, and Dexter saw him give her a signal with his eyes. “We’ll take over from there. Hell, we’re crazy enough as it is. No need for this to be contagious.”

  “Just for the ride around,” Randy said, his voice sober and reasonable, too reasonable. Dexter shot him a warning look. Why would Randy persist? He’d suffered, too, when Joanna had died.

  Randy met his stare with a direct one of his own. He continued, “It wouldn’t hurt. Clem could give us some idea of where to set up the pens.”

  Didn’t Randy remember finding her body?

  “No.” Dexter turned his head, cutting off the rest of the conversation.

  Not very effectively, though, because Clem said, her chin high, in what was becoming a familiar gesture, “It wouldn’t just be for the ride in. I already brought in half the herd with only a couple of part-time hands.”

  As the silence lengthened, Dexter became very aware of the fact the Miller brothers were now content to wait and watch.

  “And almost killed yourself doing it.” Dexter couldn’t stop the bleakness from entering his tone as he took a guess. He knew he’d scored a direct hit when she reddened and looked away.

  “There’s no more discussion. If you want to go, you’ll be going without me.” He’d had enough, so he got up, being sure to handle the china with care despite his irritation.

  “No!” Clem’s voice rang with authority. “That’s not acceptable.”

  “What did you say?” He could barely hear his own voice because blood pounded through his head so loudly.

  She leaned toward him, her hands on her hips. “I said ‘no’ was not an acceptable answer. I don’t know what’s bugging you. But like you said earlier, it doesn’t all have to do with me. I think this is about your sister.”

  Turnabout was apparently not fair play. She nailed his sore points just as easily as he’d hit hers.

  “I need air” was all he could think to say. Then he grabbed his hat and left.

  CLEM LOOKED AT THE MILLER brothers and gave them a rueful smile. “There’s apple pie for dessert.”

  “I’m going to talk to him.” Randy got up, his normally genial demeanor dark. “You have the dishes, Ryan?”

  Ryan nodded.

  Clem said, “Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll do them.” She lifted her plate and found that her h
and was shaking. For someone who she hated conflict, she seemed awfully eager to jump in every chance she got.

  “You’re not used to asserting yourself,” Ryan observed as he took the plate from her.

  “Is it so obvious?” Clem really wanted to know; in fact, it felt as if her insides were burning to know. With steadier hands, she picked up the salad bowl and filled it with the broccoli plate along with the gratin dish. She followed Ryan into the kitchen.

  After setting down his load of dishes, Ryan reached out to lift her locket and examine it. “Nice.”

  “My parents gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.”

  “Joanna had one like it.”

  “Joanna?”

  “Dexter’s kid sister.”

  “The one who died?” Clem swallowed hard.

  Ryan nodded as he began to rinse the dishes. “They were best friends. She worked on the ranch with him.”

  Clem realized Joanna probably had been the one who kept up the grass and flower beds and made sure the house had been painted. When she’d died, much around her had died, including her brother’s soul.

  “What happened?” Clem’s voice was very faint, even to her ears. She wanted to know but was afraid. Awareness of his tragedies would only bind her to him in ways that she didn’t want. Never in her life had she so tenaciously sought out a stranger the way she had Dexter Scott. Never in her life had she kissed a stranger, but she’d kissed Dexter Scott. And when she’d found him and kissed him, she’d known Dexter Scott wasn’t a stranger at all. That was scary as hell.

  “She died in a riding accident.”

  “I’m sorry.” And Clem found that she was. She wondered what Joanna had been like. “Did she like to ride?”

  “There wasn’t a better rider than Joanna.”

  “I love to ride. I think if I were going to go, that would be the way to do it. It’d be like flying.”

  Ryan studied her. “You favor her a little.”

  Embarrassed, Clem looked away and muttered, “It’s just the locket.” She put her hand up to touch it, then said quietly, “He told me a little about her.”