by Tina Leonard
“Crooked Valley isn’t really the sort of place where you just fill some of your spare time,” she replied, her voice sharp. The headache was threatening to come back, too.
“Hey, give me a break. I haven’t come anywhere close to making any sort of a decision. I’ve only been here a week. I’ve hardly had two seconds to wrap my head around all of this, let alone relax.”
“Well,” she replied, “you’d better brace yourself, then, because next weekend things are going to get a lot busier and we need every pair of hands available.”
“Get ready for what?”
“You want a taste of what ranching is really like? We move the herd back here to the mountain pastures for the winter. The folks at the Triple B will give us a hand driving the cattle, and the next week we return the favor. It’s exhausting but huge fun, too.”
“A cattle drive?”
She nodded. “Yup. We overnight at the old cookhouse and ride back the next day. When your grandmother was still alive, she cooked for two straight days to feed the crew when they returned. The past few years Joe brought in sandwiches and coffee for the first night’s supper and we did a potluck on the return. All the wives bring dishes and someone generally fires up some music for a bit of dancing.” She knew there was a hint of nostalgia in her voice but she couldn’t help it. It was one of the hardest and best weekends of the year, in her opinion—second only to the branding and vaccination day in the spring.
“I’m expected to coordinate that?” Duke’s eyebrows lifted. “Why didn’t anyone mention it?”
She shrugged. “I thought Quinn would have told you. Until last night, you barely said two words to me all week.”
Duke shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to herding cows. And I have no idea what to do about after, either. Do people expect a party?” He looked genuinely distressed. “You’ll help me, right?”
Ah, so here it was. Now that he was stuck he realized she existed. That’s not fair, a voice inside her argued. He sure knew you existed last night.
Yeah. He knew she existed when it came to making out in his truck or needing a social coordinator. She lifted her chin. “Forget it, Duke. I’m the cattle foreman and I’ll be heading up the drive. I’m not a party planner.”
Chapter Four
For a girl who was looking a bit worse for wear after her night on the town, she sure wasn’t giving an inch. He already felt out of his depth, and now he was expected to host some sort of social event at the ranch? It didn’t help that Carrie was being stubborn and he had to sweeten her up somehow. It was his first real test at Crooked Valley and he didn’t want to blow it.
“Of course I don’t expect you to plan it,” he replied, trying to smile at her. “Maybe you could just tell me what I need to do. Make me a list or something.”
“A list? Really?”
“Sure, why not?” He raised an eyebrow. “Rather than stand in your kitchen, which is charming by the way, why don’t I take you out for breakfast?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I usually find the best thing for a hangover is orange juice, bacon and eggs cooked in the bacon grease. The diner still serves that stuff, right?”
She looked tempted. It was a good sign.
“Come on, Freckles. You don’t have to go to work. Let me treat you to breakfast and you can tell me all the stuff I need to do before this big weekend coming up.”
“I need to clean my house....”
“How dirty can it be?” he argued. “You’re the only one here to mess it up. It’s just breakfast,” he challenged her. “Not a proposal of marriage.”
“You’re aggravating.”
But her voice had softened and he could tell she was wavering. He grinned. “So I’ve been told.”
“You’re buying?”
“Of course. It’s the least I can do in exchange for your help.” But her question really did make him think. How hard were things for Carrie? Other than her night at the bar, there was nothing in her life to make him think she was extravagant with her money. The house was plain and her truck was old. And a night out with a friend did not constitute extravagance. Everyone deserved to get out once in a while.
“I guess I could. I am kind of hungry.”
Score. He nodded at her. “Great. You might want to just wash your face before we go.”
Her lips dropped open and her eyes registered dismay. “My face? What’s wrong with my face?”
He slid his index finger under his eye. “You melted a bit during the night.”
She spun on her heel and disappeared into the bathroom. Two seconds later a squeal erupted, echoing off the bathroom tile. “I look like a raccoon! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought I just did.” He walked down the hall and glanced in the bathroom. She ran a cloth beneath a stream of water, wrung it out and scrubbed at her eyes.
“This is why I don’t wear eyeliner,” she groused. “Or much makeup at all. I never remember to wash my face before bed and then I get up looking like...” She broke off the sentence. “Well. Looking like this.”
What he thought was that she didn’t need makeup to be beautiful, but he wouldn’t say that because after last night it would take on importance that he didn’t want. Or maybe he did want it but he shouldn’t, which came out to practically the same thing. Mouth closed. Boundaries set.
“Okay. I think I’m okay now. Oh, wait. I need to brush my teeth. They’re fuzzy.”
He chuckled. “The rum really got to you, huh.”
She avoided his gaze. “I’d actually prefer not to talk about last night.”
“Fine by me.” Talking about it would create one of two outcomes. Either they’d argue or they’d pick up where they left off. He didn’t want the first and he was telling himself he’d better not indulge in the second. Last night he’d been carried away. It had been nice talking to someone. To hold her close, to feel so alive. Truth was, since his accident he hadn’t felt that kind of vitality. In the end it wouldn’t be smart carrying on with her, though. She worked for him, and he definitely couldn’t afford for her to quit.
He waited while she brushed her teeth and spit in the sink, and then they left the house together. When she suggested taking her own truck so she could pick up some groceries after, he didn’t argue. He was quickly learning Carrie was independent and used to making her own decisions—and getting her way.
Duke backed out of the driveway first and headed toward town. The Horseshoe Diner was on the main drag, sporting a scarred asphalt parking lot and a neon horseshoe sign with about three bulbs burned out on one side. Duke pulled in and parked and then waited for Carrie. She parked beside him and hopped out, looking a little better since driving with the window down a bit. She might be hungover but she was definitely stubborn.
Once inside they found a table near the window and a waitress he didn’t recognize brought over menus and filled their coffee cups. He opened his plastic-covered menu and scanned the breakfast items, but Carrie left hers closed. Yeah, he’d been away from Gibson for a long time. Probably too long. Carrie knew the menu by heart and he felt like a complete stranger.
The damnedest thing was that he’d stayed away to prove a point. To prove he was Evan Duggan’s kid, to prove he wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps and not be pushed into Joe Duggan’s dreams for his son.
But he was coming to realize that by doing that, he’d also turned his back on something really important. This was where his father had grown up. Gone to school. Had his hopes and dreams. But despite the honor of serving his country, it had always been clear that Evan had disappointed the family. It didn’t matter that Joe was gone. Duke was the one here now and he was afraid that he’d continue that legacy, too. And if he failed at this, too, he was left with nothing.
“You got awfully quiet.” Carrie’s voi
ce interrupted his thoughts and he was grateful for the distraction.
“Just deciding what to get. It all looks good. And huge.” He turned his attention back to the menu and its country-size offerings.
When the waitress came back, Duke ordered pancakes and sausages while Carrie asked for the Cowboy’s Breakfast. A quick scan showed that it was a hearty meal—bacon, sausage and ham, two eggs, toast and home fries. “You’re going to eat all that?” he asked when the waitress was gone, and she nodded.
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” She sipped at the orange juice that had been delivered and licked her lips. “Besides, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. You haven’t seen the size of Rosie’s pancakes. They’re like hubcaps.”
He was hungry, so the idea of huge pancakes sounded awesome. “I think I’ll manage. Maybe I’ll take some home with me for later. And speaking of, how much food am I going to need next weekend anyway? How does that work, with the night at the cookhouse? Who takes the food and stuff?”
Carrie looked up at him and felt her heart soften even though she didn’t want it to. He was trying, bless him, and she’d been a little short with him back at the house but it was only because over the years she’d taken her share of crap from the men in the area. Not everyone had been as open-minded as Joe about letting her supervise the entire cattle operation. It wasn’t just about grazing the cattle and making sure they had food and water before being sold. It was about producing the best beef possible and getting the best price possible. There was a science to it she enjoyed, even if at times it made her head hurt with all the complexities.
She’d had to learn on the job and so did Duke, so maybe she should give him a break.
“Usually a few people go up the day before. We use the quads for that, and take up food, supplies, make sure the cots are set out and things are cleaned up.” She grinned. “It’s outhouse facilities, though we do have propane and running water in the cookhouse. That’s a lot faster than trying to do that the day of the drive.”
“You still do this stuff from horseback?”
She nodded. “Yeah. And we try not to use the quads that much anyway. Horses are gentler on the environment.” She smiled at him. “How long has it been since you were on horseback, Duke?”
Their food was delivered so he didn’t answer for a minute, but once they were alone again he reached for the syrup and admitted, “A long time.”
She chuckled as she put a splotch of ketchup on her plate. “You might want to get in the saddle right away, then. Or you’ll be regretting it after a day and a half of riding.”
“You’re right.” He looked down at his plate. “You were right about the pancakes, too. Hubcaps. But delicious hubcaps.”
Between the coffee and juice, Carrie was feeling better, but she took a bite of fried egg and closed her eyes with gratitude. Duke was right. Eggs fried in bacon grease were awesome after a night of indulgence. She nearly felt human. And hungry.
For the next several minutes they talked about the drive and the supplies that Duke would need. Now that the initial shock was over, he seemed keen for the event. So much so that when she suggested he maybe sit the ride out and look after the other details, he shook his head and flat-out refused.
“I want to learn these sorts of things. I don’t want to slow you down, but I’d like to carry my weight.”
She had to respect him for that, and he earned bonus points for realizing that there was a learning curve to driving cattle. “I can give you some pointers,” she suggested, dipping a fried potato in her ketchup. “And on the day I’ll pair you up with someone so you can work together.”
“Thanks, Carrie.” Duke mopped up some pancake in a pool of syrup. “Do I need to be in touch with anyone about the potluck?”
She grinned. He really was a newbie, wasn’t he? “No,” she laughed. “When we get back, everyone will take an hour to clean up at home, and then come back with the food and ready to enjoy themselves. All you have to do is provide the space.” Full, she pushed her plate a little to the side. “That’s how we roll around here, Duggan. It’s a community. The following weekend we’ll help out the Triple B and they’ll do the same thing, only their drive is shorter and there’s no overnight. We just have to hope there’s no heavy snow between now and then. Hopefully it’ll hold off until Thanksgiving.”
She knew that was a big hope; snow in November was the norm around here. At least the Duggan grazing land was far enough south that it rarely got too deep. Then in the spring, they’d move the herd back down to the river pastures.
“You doing anything for the holiday?” he asked, cutting into a perfectly browned breakfast sausage.
Grief cut into Carrie. Since her mom died, Joe had been the closest thing she had to family. She and Quinn and Amber had always been invited up to the big house for holiday celebrations so that none of them had to face spending them alone. Everyone contributed to the food and they’d shared lots of laughs, though Carrie had known each time that Joe was missing his family.
“Did I say something wrong?” Duke’s gaze was fixed on her face, concern etched in his features. “Here.” He handed over a napkin.
She hadn’t even realized that a few tears had slid from the corners of her eyes. “Sorry,” she apologized, dabbing at the tears. “I got a little sentimental. The past few years Joe invited Quinn and me to the house. I was just realizing that he isn’t going to be here this year.”
“You miss him.”
“Of course I do. He was the closest thing to family I had left.” She gave him a stern stare. “For you guys, too, you know. It wouldn’t have killed you to visit more often.”
“I know,” Duke said quietly.
“Why didn’t you?” She didn’t understand. Joe Duggan had been strong, kind, generous. Maybe the ranch hadn’t been the biggest or the best in the state but he’d been proud of it just the same. Proud of his son, too. Though she doubted if Duke would appreciate her saying anything to that effect.
As if he’d suddenly lost his appetite, Duke set his plate aside. “Because I knew what he’d want. He’d want me to accept the life that my dad never did. My father gave his life for his country but that wasn’t good enough. He was supposed to dedicate his life to Crooked Valley, and my grandfather never got over the fact that Dad’s choice was not the same as his. I’m the eldest. I know what Joe wanted. He wanted me to live the life that was meant for my father. And I wanted to make my own choice.”
“Maybe,” she said softly, “he just wanted his legacy to live on somehow. Out here farms are a family business. But Joe and Eileen didn’t have a big family. Evan was it. Joe worked so hard to make something of this place and no one was interested.”
Duke’s eyes appeared troubled. “You think I don’t know that? But it’s different when...”
“When what?” she asked quietly. “When you’re carrying the expectations of a family on your shoulders?”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
“Duke, in theory we should all be able to make our own choices. But sometimes life makes choices for us and it turns out to be the best thing in the end.”
His gaze locked with hers. “And how have those life choices worked out for you so far, Carrie?”
The question stung because she knew what he saw when he looked at her. Small-town girl stuck in the same small town, parents gone, spending her days chasing cattle around. It also made her sad because he didn’t understand that there was nothing better than riding out on a clear summer morning with the scent of fresh hay and wildflowers in the air, or the pure satisfaction of physical exhaustion at the end of the day. Sunsets over the creek, a fresh blanket of snow and the smell of evergreens in the forest.
He felt sorry for her. And she felt sorry for him.
“Maybe one day you’ll understand.” She picked
up her purse. “I should get going. I have errands to run before going home. Thanks for breakfast.”
She got up from the table and made to leave, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Hey. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
She looked down at him, emotions swirling. She was a little annoyed with him, felt a little pity, too, and then there was this thing between them that reared up every time they touched. Right now his fingers seemed to burn through the skin at her wrist, and her mind raced back to only twelve hours earlier when they’d been nearly naked in her kitchen.
Crazy. That was what she was.
“I’m not mad.” Her voice was low so she wouldn’t be overheard. “You just need to realize that what I do doesn’t feel like a punishment to me. Not like it does to you. What do you think you’re being punished for anyway?”
And there was the confusion in his eyes again, the troubled expression that made her want to curl up in his arms and see if he needed to talk it out. It was the oddest sensation. She’d never considered herself a nurturer before. She was far more comfortable dealing with livestock than people’s emotions.
He let go of her wrist. “You’d better get to those errands,” he said. “I’ll see you Monday.”
And that was it. Whatever attraction was between them needed to be ignored, and she had to focus on her job. There was a lot to do before next weekend’s drive and she couldn’t let herself get distracted.
With her purse over her shoulder, she left the diner and stepped out into the sunshine.
Chapter Five
Duke shifted the reins in his hands and followed the line of horses through the gully toward the smattering of buildings that made up the river base of the ranch. Along with Quinn, Carrie and three ranch hands, they were joined by four men from the Triple B. Ten altogether and Carrie the only woman in the bunch. She rode ahead, talking to Quinn, and Duke couldn’t help but admire her figure on horseback. She’d barely said two words to him this morning, though, other than asking him if he was ready. Since breakfast the previous weekend, they’d kept their conversations strictly businesslike.