How to Wrangle a Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

  “You failed? It sounds to me like Rodger was the failure.”

  Lindsey shrugged again. “That’s not what he’d say.”

  “You care too much what other people think.” Grace leaned over and snatched a french fry from Lindsey’s plate. “Do you feel like a failure?”

  Lindsey stared at the bubbles rising in her drink, watching them make their way to the surface and pop. She felt like one of them, suddenly weightless, tracing a crooked path upward toward freedom. She hadn’t made it to the surface yet, but with everything she learned, she got a little bit closer.

  “I don’t feel like a failure.” She felt the same sudden joy that had struck her the other morning, when Shane had held her and spun. She’d watched a whole new world spinning around her—the fences, the horses, the trees, the far horizon—and now that world was hers.

  Hers for real, with no strings attached.

  She picked up a french fry and imagined it was William Ward. Biting its head off, she waved the headless corpse at her grandmother. “How could I be a failure when I faced up to William’s threats and told you the truth?”

  “That’s right.” Grace contentedly munched her fry, then snatched another one. Lindsey pushed her plate toward her, but Grace pushed it back.

  “It took me too long,” Lindsey said. “I should have…”

  She smiled, remembering her grandmother’s admonition about “shoulding on herself.” She was done with that. She was a rancher now, strong and independent. A decision maker. A survivor.

  “The ranch is mine.” She said the words slowly, savoring them, storing them away like jewels to be turned over in her hands, held up to the light, and treasured.

  “You earned it,” Grace said.

  “I got lucky. But that’s okay.” Lindsey could barely resist the urge to sweep Grace off her chair and dance her around the room. “I’m going to stay, Grandma. I’ll have to figure out what to do with my practice, but Ashley’s doing great with the guy who replaced me. Maybe he’ll replace me for good. He’ll have to buy me out.”

  She had to resist yet another urge—the urge to rub her hands together at the thought of the money that sale would bring.

  “So are you going to raise those wild African monkeys?” Grace asked with a mischievous smile.

  Lindsey laughed. “No, I’m not starting a monkey farm anytime soon. Although that would be a fun way to torture Shane.”

  “I think fun with Shane is an excellent idea, whether you add monkeys or not.”

  “I don’t know.” Lindsey felt her face dimpling into a smile despite her best efforts. “He’s special, Grandma, but I don’t know if it’ll work out. He’s not the easiest man to deal with. And we’re a little different.” She raised a hand in a “stop” gesture. “And don’t tell me opposites attract. Opposites drive each other crazy.”

  “Right. That’s how Bud and I managed for so long.” Grace cackled. “I drove that man crazy. And he loved it.”

  She snatched up the check and Lindsey groaned. She hadn’t even seen the waitress set it down.

  “Let me pay,” she said. “You just saved me two hundred thousand dollars. I think I can buy lunch.”

  “Is that how much he wanted?” Grace straightened in her chair, and if blue eyes could blaze, hers did.

  “He said it was less than half. He claimed he could have the whole thing if he took me to court.”

  “Bastard. Son of a bitch.” Grace cocked her head, as if tasting the cusswords for the first time. Apparently she’d enjoyed the taste, because she was grinning with delight. “Fuckhead.”

  “Grandma!” Lindsey fluttered a hand at her chest, faking shock, but she couldn’t help laughing.

  Grace laughed along with her. “All right, you pay for lunch. But I’m driving us home. And I’m cussing out the other drivers.” She lifted her chin, the picture of defiance. “I might even flip them the bird.”

  Lindsey frowned, wondering why she’d never seen Grace drive. “You know how, right?”

  Proudly, Grace flashed her middle finger and giggled. Lindsey joined her.

  “I figured you knew how to do that. I meant driving.”

  “How hard can it be?” Grace said. “Stop, go, right, and left. Oh, and there are turn signals.” She lowered her brows. “Is there a hands-free device for my iPhone?”

  “In Bud’s truck?”

  The two of them laughed together. Bud had scorned technology, claiming he’d only use vehicles and devices he could fix himself. That had left out computers and most trucks built after 1980.

  Lindsey assured herself it was natural that she’d never seen Grace drive. Being an old-fashioned guy, Bud had always driven when they were little. But while she might be old, Grace was anything but old-fashioned.

  Lindsey tossed her the keys.

  Chapter 39

  Shane was watering the horses when Bud’s old truck spun into the drive and skidded around the turnout in front of the barn. It looped the loop a couple more times, then screeched to a stop so suddenly he staggered back against the barn, sloshing water down his boots.

  Great. He’d spent half his afternoon wrangling chickens, of all things, and now Lindsey was driving drunk.

  It shouldn’t have been so hard to deal with Sally and the two chicken friends Lindsey had brought home to join her, but although Shane had done his best to create the chicken palace of Lindsey’s dreams, the hens showed their gratitude by pecking his hands and arms half to death when he’d tried to make a few improvements to their stall. Maybe Sally was just a man hater. She was the biggest chicken, and the oldest. He was sure she was the ringleader in the plot against him.

  He heard the telltale clicking of an overheated engine and knew Lindsey had been speeding as well as drinking. He never would have thought she’d be so careless—especially not with her grandmother along.

  Then again, who would have thought she’d start up a man-hating chicken herd? The woman was full of surprises.

  She climbed out of the passenger seat, shaky and pale.

  Great. She was probably going to be sick, and—wait a minute. The passenger side?

  He was trying to wrap his head around that information when Grace hopped spryly from the driver’s side.

  “That was fun,” she said. “Bud let me drive the tractor sometimes, but he wouldn’t let me drive the truck.”

  Lindsey paled another shade or two. “You drove the car, though, right?”

  Grace’s laugh tinkled like dime-store wind chimes. “Of course not. You know how old-fashioned Bud was. But I knew I could do it, and now I can cross it off my bucket list.” She mimed pulling a notebook from her pocket and crossing something off with a flourish, then thought a moment and checked off another. “I even flipped another driver the bird! Did you see his face, Lindsey?”

  “I sure did.” Lindsey shuddered visibly. “It was very, very close after you sailed through that stop sign.”

  Grace gave her a dismissive wave. “I didn’t see any stop sign. Now, let’s see.” She pretended to consult the next item on the make-believe list. “Next is skydiving!”

  Lindsey clutched the roof of the car, white-knuckled.

  “How far did you let her drive?” Shane asked.

  “All the way home from the Red Dawg.” Lindsey grimaced. “I think I’m going to lose my Rip Roarin’ Pulled Pork Sandwich.”

  She got busy though, unhitching a bungee cord to release a row of shopping bags she’d tethered in the truck bed. He hurried to help.

  “What’s all this?”

  Dillard’s, Corral West, Just Dandy—it looked as if they’d hit every women’s clothing store in Cheyenne.

  “Lindsey insisted I need summer clothes in case I visit her in Charleston,” Grace tinkled out a giggle. “I humored her.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper as Lindsey trotted into the house with an armful of bags. “We both know I’ll never get there.”

  Shane didn’t respond. He couldn’t—not with the aching lump in his t
hroat that swelled up whenever he thought of losing Grace. He’d tried to tell himself she was Lindsey’s problem, but deep inside, he loved the old woman like family.

  Lugging bags up to the house, he wondered what the hell was happening to his well-planned life. Lindsey would never get the money she needed. Her vet practice was more charity than business, and the trinkets she’d gathered from the tack room and the attic weren’t enough to make a difference.

  She danced back out to the car with a light step that seemed strangely joyful and carefree for a woman who was about to lose her family’s legacy. As she threw her head back and laughed at something her grandmother said, he wondered how she could be so happy.

  Maybe she didn’t need the ranch or the money or anything else. She was one of those people who carried her own light wherever she went, warming every room she walked into simply by being there.

  What would she ever want with a doom-and-gloom worrywart like him?

  But he wanted her, as much as he’d ever wanted anything, and something inside him insisted he belonged with her, here at the Lazy Q.

  But deep down, he wasn’t sure where he belonged. Lindsey was a lot like her grandmother; anything could happen when she was around. What if she went back to Charleston? What if she stayed, but sold the herd?

  Either way, he’d end up as lost as he’d ever been, cast adrift to fend for himself.

  And Cody. At least he had Cody.

  He needed to put these foolish dreams about Lindsey to rest, and concentrate on what really mattered.

  * * *

  Lindsey sat on Shane’s porch swing, dangling one toe so she could keep the bench swaying ever so slightly while she waited for him to finish the evening chores. She should have helped him, but his scowl of disapproval had threatened to derail her happy train, so she’d decided he could just wait. She’d tell him her good news when he was in a more receptive frame of mind.

  But the longer she sat there, the more she wondered how good her news would seem to Shane.

  What would he think of the changes she wanted to make? And how would he feel when he found out that the secret she’d held so close was a con man’s lie all along? She hadn’t trusted him, but she had believed William Ward.

  Heck, when she thought about that, she didn’t like herself very much.

  When he finally arrived, he was dusty and dirty from a long day in the barn. Shreds of hay and straw lay in the folds of his shirt, and his rolled-up sleeves revealed a new and painful-looking scrape along one muscular forearm.

  “Thanks for the chicken coop,” she said. “It’s perfect.”

  “Well, tell that to your fine feathered friends. They weren’t very appreciative.” As he sat down beside her, she saw that the scrape was just one of many small but painful-looking injuries. “Dang near pecked me to death.”

  She ran her hand along his arm, wishing she had magic in her touch that could make the little cuts go away.

  There was magic, all right, but it wasn’t hers. Touching him made her tingle in places that had nothing to do with his injuries.

  He stretched one arm across the back of the swing. “This is getting to be a regular thing.”

  “What is?”

  “You and me. Porch swing. Sunset.” He nodded toward the mountains, which were edged in gold as the sun sank behind them.

  She turned to him, cheeks pinking, heart dancing. What if this actually was a regular thing? What if she went inside with him every night when the sun went down? What if they talked about their day, made dinner for Cody, spent the evening together? What if it was a regular thing for them to make love every night?

  She wanted to take his work-roughened hands in her own, to share her joy with him as openly as she’d shared her body, but he stood suddenly and crossed to the rail to stare out at the fields. The swing swayed crazily in his wake.

  Obviously, he’d spoken before thinking. And just as obviously, he regretted it.

  Stopping the swing with one foot, she did her best to imitate one of Grace’s careless little laughs, but it came out sounding a little crazy.

  “I don’t know about any ‘regular thing,’ but I know you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.” Wringing every ounce of confidence from her hurting heart, she did her best to push words past the lump in her throat. “I’m staying. I need to figure out what to do with my practice, but that’s a minor detail. The major one—the money one—is solved.”

  “That was quick.” His expression was unreadable, but he definitely didn’t look pleased or happy or excited. “So where’d you get the money? And what was the big secret?” Folding his arms across his chest, he glared at her from under lowered brows. “Can you tell me now, or am I still not worthy?”

  Chapter 40

  Lindsey hadn’t expected her revelation to be greeted with a celebration, but congratulations might have been nice. Instead, Shane was sarcastic. Angry. Disgusted, even.

  She knew he’d wanted her to trust him with her problem. She supposed she might feel the same way in his position. But in a way, he hadn’t trusted her. When she’d said the secret wasn’t hers to tell, he hadn’t believed her.

  Oh, it was all so confusing. And none of it mattered, except that Shane was upset.

  She clasped her hands in her lap and spilled the whole story, quick as she could. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid—it hurt less if you did it fast.

  “There was a man who said he was Bud’s son,” she said. “He threatened to tell Grace about Bud’s affair with his mother if I didn’t give him two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “And you believed him?”

  She nodded, staring down at her hands.

  “You thought I was a con man.” He turned and stared out at the gathering darkness. “Why did you believe this guy?”

  “He looks just like Bud. Honest. I still can’t believe the resemblance.” She leaned toward him. “You saw him. At the funeral, remember?”

  “Shit. William Ward?”

  She felt as if all the air in her lungs had suddenly been whisked away by the Wyoming wind. “You knew who he was?”

  “Yeah. He came to see Bud a while back. Wanted money or something. I don’t know what all was said, but it didn’t go well. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to show up at the funeral.”

  She wanted to shake him. Heck, she wanted to kill him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  She thought back. She hadn’t, had she? She’d told Shane she thought the man might steal something and asked him to watch him. And he had.

  He came back to the swing and sat down, taking her hands. Her silly heart leaped, but he was sitting as far away as he could. He was probably holding her hands to make sure she was paying attention, because he thought she was an idiot.

  “There’s something you don’t understand about the West,” he said. “About ranchers and ranching.”

  “I’m sure there’s plenty I don’t know.”

  “But this is the one thing that matters, okay? So listen.” He shook their joined hands, and she met his eyes so he’d know she was paying attention. “Nobody can do it alone.” He shook her hands again, squeezing. “We’re all in it together, families, friends, and neighbors. There’s no such thing as the Lone Rancher.”

  She started to laugh at the pun, then realized how serious he was when he dropped her hands and stood as suddenly as he’d sat down. He ran a hand through his hair and began to pace as he continued.

  “You’ve had this place in an uproar ever since you got here, just because you couldn’t trust your foreman or your family.” He rubbed the back of his neck with an irritated gesture. “You couldn’t even trust Bud.”

  “I trusted my lawyer.”

  He spun to face her.

  “Over me? Over Grace? What would Adriana know? And let me guess. She didn’t tell her father?”

  “No. It was confidential. I admired her for that.”

  He strode quickly to the other side of the porch
and stared out at the gathering darkness, as if he didn’t want to even look at her.

  Anger surged in her chest like a fast-building storm cloud. She stood so quickly the swing pitched back, then slammed into the back of the knees so hard they nearly buckled.

  “What do you care? This is your job. A week ago, you were talking to Sierra about walking away from this place. For me, there’s a little more at stake.”

  He turned to defend himself, but she didn’t give him a chance.

  “I was protecting Grace. That’s all I was thinking about. That, and being worthy of Bud’s trust. I thought he’d known this would happen. I figured it was the reason he’d left the ranch to me, so Grace wouldn’t find out.”

  She spread her hands wide to indicate her faux Western clothes—the cute little bandanna, the shirt she’d bought just for this trip. “I’m no rancher. You know that. So why else would he do it?”

  “You’re family,” he said. “You’ve never understood that. And I can’t believe I’m the one who has to explain it to you.”

  She lifted her chin. “How do you know what I understood and what I don’t?”

  “You don’t understand honor.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. He pointed an accusing finger at her face. “Your grandfather was the most honest, upright man I ever knew. You really thought he’d cheat on Grace?”

  The answer came in a rush of bitter memories. “I didn’t know what to believe. I hadn’t seen them in so long. And my marriage—I haven’t exactly been seeing the best in human nature lately.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Frankly, I can believe just about anything about any man.”

  “But this was your grandfather. And your family. And—well, I thought you trusted me. You did once. The—the other night.” He looked away, and she wondered if even tough cowboys blushed once in a while.

  Staring down at the floor, her cheeks pinking, she searched her mind for an answer and found it in a flash of inspiration. “You have brothers, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Would you tell me your brothers’ secrets?”