by Kim Redford
“I just thought I’d take your mind off lonely hearts.”
“How? By quoting Norma Desmond, the loneliest heart of all? You’re just trying to distract me by mentioning my favorite movie genre.”
“I was hoping to impress you with my sudden knowledge of fifties flicks, too. I’ve been watching a lot to get in the mood for Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In.”
“You could’ve just asked me about them. But I’m impressed. Okay?”
“Good.” Mainly, she’d wanted to get him away from the subject of loneliness, because she couldn’t help him with that, and it made her hurt for her big brother. He’d been happy as a rodeo star, but when the music stopped and he was left twisting in midair, there was no way back to recapture the melody.
“I’ll leave Storm with Granny at the café later,” he said, filling up the silence. “I swear our little tike is taking to cooking like a duck to water.”
“You’re a good uncle.”
“I do my best.”
“Thanks.”
“Better go. No rest for the weary around here. I just wanted to put your mind at ease about Storm.”
“You did. See you soon.” She put her phone back in her pocket, feeling thoughtful and a little concerned about him. But for now, there was nothing she could do except keep moving forward one step at a time. Maybe the old adage was right—time healed all wounds.
As she shut her car door, she glanced at the station. Kent waved to her from where he stood in back of the booster with Hedy to one side. He was a tall cowboy with sable-brown hair and a muscled-up body strong from ranch work. A moment later, Hedy joined him, motioning for her to hurry up.
Sydney started across the parking lot, then glanced toward Cougar Lane, hoping Dune was finally getting there, but the road was empty. If he didn’t arrive soon, she’d text him, although she’d prefer for him to contact her first after their day apart. Maybe she just needed reassurance that he still wanted her, needed her, and what they’d shared was as special to him as it was to her. She’d know it by the look in his eyes—just one look was all it’d take, so she really wanted him to get there.
And then she had another thought. She knew it was silly, but she felt a little worried about him. What if something had happened out on the ranch? Nobody would even think to let her know if he’d had an accident and was with a doctor. He’d been such a comfort to her when she’d taken Storm to the clinic, but she wasn’t family or girlfriend or anybody who’d be notified if he needed her. She disliked the fact that she might be the last to know.
She picked up her steps as she quickly crossed the parking lot. She’d just ask Kent. He’d know if anything had happened on the ranch, since Dune worked for him. But she couldn’t be too obvious about her concern, not unless she wanted a whole lot of gossip to hit the local grapevine. She didn’t even want to think how news about her one night with Dune could get turned into a wild night in Dallas with a rodeo team. It’d be better than TV drama for local entertainment. She shuddered at the thought. No, she’d just act cool and casual.
As soon as she reached Kent, she put her hands on her hips and leaned toward him. “Dune’s supposed to be here to help with the photo shoot. Where is he?”
Kent stepped back, glanced at Hedy, and then gave her a big grin. “Lose your boy toy?”
She felt her face turn pink with embarrassment. She’d just done the opposite of what she’d intended to do. Somehow, Dune had already gotten under her skin.
“Now, Kent, why are you teasing Sydney about Dune? Everybody knows he’s been after her for months, not the other way around,” Hedy said, obviously coming to Sydney’s rescue.
“Yeah,” Kent agreed. “I thought maybe she’d finally come to her senses and given him a break now that she’s letting him be her gopher on her projects.”
“Guess he’s not much of a gopher.” Sydney felt a vast sense of relief as her face cooled down with the knowledge that her night of passion hadn’t spread around town.
“He’ll be here,” Kent said. “I bought a bull a while back that thinks the whole county is his pasture.”
“Is that the new Brahman?” Hedy asked.
“Yep,” Kent agreed.
“I don’t know why you bought him. Brahmans are nothing but trouble,” Sydney said, remembering how she’d never liked the breed after a run-in with one when she was a kid.
“Favor for a friend. Only now I’m having second thoughts.” Kent gave a big sigh of frustration.
“So he broke out again?” Hedy asked, zipping a little closer to them in her automated wheelchair.
“Yeah. He’s probably on Steele Trap Ranch.”
“Had I better go saddle up and get him?” Sydney asked. “Slade and Storm are down at the café.”
“Dune’ll get him,” Kent said with a chuckle. “I told him I’d come on down here, since I’m the photographer and more important than he’ll ever be.”
“I’m sure he’ll pay you back for that remark.” Sydney laughed with him.
“And when you least expect it,” Hedy added with a chuckle.
Sydney let their laughter die down. “Guess we ought to go ahead and get started on the calendar. Who’s first on our list?”
“That’d be me.” Kent shrugged his broad shoulders as he gave Hedy a narrow-eyed look.
She grinned, tossing her long, silver braid over one shoulder. “Just so you know, Sydney, you owe me one. I had to go to all the trouble of getting out my big black leather whip to get the cowboy firefighters in this county in line.”
“Thanks. I thought that might have to be my job.” Sydney winked at Hedy. “I can see that must’ve been some hard work on your part.”
“Don’t you ever doubt it.” Hedy threw back her head and filled the parking lot with laughter.
“All I’ve got to say is we’re all going to have a miserable time,” Kent added, giving Hedy a big smile, “but it’s for a good cause.”
“True enough,” Hedy agreed.
Sydney gave the booster a pat on its shiny red paint, feeling relieved that Dune was okay. He’d get that troublemaker of a bull under control soon and join them. “So, folks, let’s get this show on the road. We’re burning daylight.”
Chapter 22
Dune felt sweat trickle down his back as the sun made its way higher into the sky, burning off the coolness of the night. He hadn’t needed to wear anything more than a long-sleeve shirt, Wranglers, and boots on such a pretty day.
December. It was a good month, not too hot and not too cold, but it could’ve been better if the days were longer. They were about three weeks away from the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year on the twenty-first. After that, they’d head into longer day territory, but it’d be spring till the days really got rolling again. For now, he just had to put up with not enough daylight hours. He supposed that was better than the reindeer herders up near the Arctic Circle in Scandinavia, seesawing between mostly light and mostly dark during the year. That situation didn’t bear thinking about, so he shoved it from his mind to get back to the matter at hand.
And that’d be the wily, quick, and cantankerous Brahman that was leading him a merry chase. The big bull was typical of his breed with a pale coat and dark neck and hump. Dune realized now that he should’ve gotten another guy to help him bring in the animal, since it was actually a job best handled by two cowboys. But he’d been feeling so full of himself after his night with Sydney that he’d thought he could tackle anything and come out a winner. Famous last words, or thoughts.
He’d put himself between a rock and a hard place, because after a bit, he’d gotten as stubborn as the bull. He wasn’t going to back down. The bull wasn’t going to back down. His horse had had about enough of the whole mess. And Sydney wasn’t going to be impressed with a no-show at the station. He could only hope she wasn’t mad as a wet hen, particularly af
ter he’d done his best to impress her. Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.
Still, he hated to think what might be on Sydney’s mind with him not at the photo shoot when he’d promised to help her. He’d chased the damn bull all over a good part of her ranch, so she wouldn’t thank him for scaring her herds either. At least the bull appeared to be tiring, but so was Dune’s buckskin, bless her stout heart, and he wasn’t fresh as a daisy anymore.
He held a rope—lime green for high visibility—in his left hand, coiled around his palm and clasped between his thumb and first finger with his reins tucked underneath his fourth and little fingers to leave his right hand free. He didn’t actually need the hi-vis team rope, but he liked the bright color on short days when he worked part of the time in low light. He also liked the stiff but pliable four smooth strands of nylon that made a cowboy’s life easier.
Not that he was roping the bull. He didn’t figure he stood much chance of leading or towing two thousand pounds of horn, muscle, and mad back to Cougar Ranch. Instead, he was using the rope to guide the animal in the right direction by slapping the coil against his thigh for sound and waving it like a red flag for visual. At least, that’d been the original plan, although the idea was getting a tad threadbare by now.
He pushed back his cowboy hat to get a better look at the sky, so he could figure the time of day by the position of the sun overhead. Pretty quick, it’d be mid-morning, and that was not going to do, not with Sydney on a tight schedule. Besides, he’d had enough of the Brahman’s mangy ways. Maybe if he hadn’t been so distracted with thoughts of Sydney, he’d already have the animal back in his pasture.
Dune tugged his cowboy hat down on his head as he brought his mind into a tight, determined focus on the bull. Now or never. He gigged his horse into a lope, tossed the rope over to his right hand, and raised it high over his head. He hollered as he bore down on the Brahman, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. A cottontail rabbit leaped out of hiding and raced out of the way.
Maybe the bull was ready for brunch in his own pasture, or maybe he was tired of being on the lam, or maybe he finally figured out that Dune was never going to give up. In any case, the Brahman turned and trotted back toward Cougar Ranch with the loose skin under his neck swaying back and forth as his dark hooves kicked up prairie dust.
Dune stayed right on the bull’s long, swinging tail with its tuft of black hair on the end. He guided the Brahman ahead of him with his horse and rope toward the break in the fence line. When the bull finally leaped over the downed fence and into his own pasture, Dune gave him a sharp rap on the butt with his rope to make sure he kept going in that direction.
He leaped down from his buckskin, led her over the fence, then ground-tied her. He examined the fence. It had to be fixed without delay, or it’d be too big of a lure to the bull. He quickly rooted his leather gloves, hammer, and galvanized steel staples out of his saddlebag. He jerked on his gloves and pulled two posts into straight alignment before he nailed the barbwire back into place. He jiggled the fence to make sure it was sturdy and then put away his equipment.
He glanced up at the sun again. He wouldn’t be too late getting to the station, but he still had to get back to his cabin and get cleaned up. No point in crying over spilt milk. He’d done his job, and now he was free to join Sydney.
He mounted his horse and headed for the barn, feeling good about a job—finally—well done. As he rode across the pasture, he felt crisp air that heralded frost on the ground in the morning, but for now, the day was perfect enough for Sydney’s photo shoot.
When he’d almost reached Cougar Ranch’s big barn where they had cell coverage, he pulled out his phone and called Kent.
“Hey, Dune,” Kent answered. “Did you get that bull sorted out?”
“He’s back in his pasture, and the fence is fixed.”
“Thanks. Listen, I should’ve had somebody else do that job, because I’ve got a gal here getting in a tizzy ’cause you aren’t around.”
Dune growled into the phone. “Tell her I’ll be there as soon as I get done here.”
“I’ll do it. In the meantime, I called B.J. He’s waiting in the barn to curry your horse. Drop him the reins and get out of there.”
“Thanks. That’ll save time.”
“And don’t bother to get gussied up. You can shower here.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Trust me. You want to go straight to your truck and get over here.”
“She’s that mad?”
“She needs your help. We all do.”
“Okay. I’m on my way.” Dune tucked his phone back in his pocket, shaking his head. He could think of a lot of good ways to see Sydney after what they’d shared in her home. This one was so low down, it didn’t even make the list. But there was nothing he could do about it now.
He rode up to the large red barn with a silver metal roof that had all the modern conveniences that a ranch the size of the Cougar needed to compete in the cattle market. A dozen or so saddle horses waited patiently in a corral while six ATVs were lined up nearby.
B.J. stood outside with a big lump of chewing tobacco stuffed in one cheek of his leathery skin. He had grizzled hair worn shoulder-length with white stubble on his craggy face. He wore a faded red plaid shirt under striped overalls and scuffed work boots. He spit to one side, then walked over and held out his hand for the reins.
Dune dismounted and tossed the reins to him. “Thanks. Kent’s waiting for me.”
“So he said.” B.J. eyed him up and down. “Trouble with a fox, huh?”
“Sydney’s in charge of the calendar.”
B.J. nodded with a sage look as he squinted his brown eyes. “Not a lady to cross, you want my two cents.”
“No disagreement there.”
“You going like that?” B.J. took off his stained cowboy hat, looked inside it, and put it back on, as if that action explained everything.
“I hear you.” Dune resisted a loud sigh. “But Kent said to get right over to the station.”
“Better get.”
Dune raised his hat in goodbye and jogged over to his pickup parked beside his cabin. He quickly stepped up, tossed his hat onto the passenger seat, pulled his keys from a front pocket, started the engine, and tore out of the ranch. He hit several bumps and dips getting to the gravel road, but he hardly noticed them. By the time he drove over the cattle guard and under the Cougar Ranch sign, he knew he was in trouble—not so much with Sydney, hopefully, but with himself for wanting to do everything in his power to keep her happy. He was getting in deep, and he didn’t even want to pull out.
He turned on the Wildcat Den, their local ranch radio station, as he hit Wildcat Road, wanting a distraction to keep him from putting his boot too heavy on the pedal. Last thing he needed was to be pulled over by a trooper and lose even more time.
He expected to hear Christmas music, but instead, Reba came on singing “Buying Her Roses.” Yeah, he could go for roses. Sydney was bound to like them. Cowgirls liked flowers. If he had time, he’d pick up some and take them to her. But then he thought about how that’d look to the other firefighters. And Hedy. They’d tease him mercilessly. No flowers. No candy. No greeting card.
On second thought, he’d enjoy buying Sydney underwear. Something sheer and soft in red or black or the color she wore in front of the fireplace, a kind of ocean blue that put him in mind of islands with swaying palm trees, drinks with pink umbrellas, and hammocks with room for two. Maybe they could go to the Bahamas after Christmas. He could surprise her with New Year’s Eve tickets to paradise. It’d be a romantic getaway just for the two of them.
And then he thought of Storm. It wouldn’t be fair to leave her behind, but it wouldn’t be a romantic getaway with her along. Disney World or a Disney cruise would be more the thing for Storm. He bet she’d want to escape the recent memories of her ATV
spill. Maybe it’d help her regain confidence in her ability to take on anything that life could throw at her.
He reached to turn off the radio, not willing to let Reba take him down any other fantasy lanes. He heard Wildcat Jack’s deep Texas drawl spin out over the air waves. Nobody ever knew what the legendary DJ was going to say next, but he could spin a yarn with the best, and he had a line of old Texas sayings that’d fill a book. He reminded Dune of the popular DJs on ranch radio in the Hill Country. Up here, Wildcat Jack made the Wildcat Den everybody’s favorite home away from home.
Dune realized he was twisting his mind into a pretzel just to keep it off Sydney. He’d spent some special time with her, and here he was plotting out holidays with her and her kid. He didn’t know how she even felt today, except she wouldn’t be happy that he’d stood her up. It wasn’t the best way to gain a cowgirl’s confidence, particularly one like Sydney.
He flipped off the radio and then hit his steering wheel with the flat of his palm. She’d either accept him as he was, warts and all, or she wouldn’t accept him at all. He could do a few things that might encourage her to like him better, flowers and such, but she either liked him or she didn’t. Storm either liked him or she didn’t. Trouble was, he liked them both way too much, because he was risking his heart with every step he took in their direction. And yet it’d be worth it—similar to competing in a rodeo—if he could win in the end.
With that goal in mind, he gunned his dually’s engine to get to the Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue Station sooner. He might be sweaty and smelly when he got there, but he’d be exactly where Sydney wanted him to be even if he arrived a little on the late side.
Chapter 23
About noon, Sydney decided that the Wildcat Bluff Fire-Rescue Station had taken on the role of party central. She hadn’t expected it, but their photo shoot was now much more than the means to an excellent benefit to help fund the station. Cowboy firefighters were bonding and celebrating and congratulating each other on a job well done for another year of volunteering to support their community.