by Mary Leo
Table of Contents
Praise for Mary Leo
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EPILOGUE
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About The Author
Books by Mary Leo
Praise for Mary Leo
"Leo writes wonderful, relatable characters in small-town settings with stories that are fun and entertaining to read." —RT Book Reviews
"...laugh-out-loud funny moments." —RT Book Reviews
Cowboy Undone
Copyright © 2018 Mary Leo
Published by Pryde Multimedia, LLC
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Dedication
For all the folks who passed on this project . . . without your discouragement I never would have made this series happen.
This book is dedicated to everyone who receives a "NO," but continues on anyway.
"Give the world the best you have, and you'll be kicked in the teeth . . . give the world the best you've got anyway." —Hedy Lamarr
PROLOGUE
She came into the room as a fire comes into a forest, all at once and without warning. He sensed he should run, hide, get out of her path, but instead he was drawn to the beauty of the flames . . . and by then it was too late. He was powerless.
Her name eluded him, but still he felt he knew it, that he had met her before under different circumstances, in a different place. He tried to recall the event, the time, but nothing seemed clear. A haze had cloaked his memory and he simply could not work his way through it.
Soon she began singing and he immediately recognized the tune and the joy of her radiant smile as she gazed at him. Her voice soothed him. He was a mere boy the first time he’d met her, that much he remembered, but even then, she seemed ageless, as if she were young and old all at once.
He smiled at the beauty in the blue, silky dress. Her eyes caught the light from a lamp somewhere in the room, and sparkled as deep and pure as the sky. Her hair was as red as a sunset, and her skin as creamy and smooth as a flower’s petal.
She reached out to hug him, and for a moment he felt as if he belonged to her, that he was part of her. Her arms slipped behind his body as she came in close to kiss his cheek. He could sense the smile of her kiss as her full lips pressed against his feverish skin.
At once a feeling of wellness splashed over him, as if an angel pure and sweet had kissed him. Her very touch had healed the malady that had plagued his weakened body for months. He wanted to take her by the hand and dance to the tune she kept humming, but he knew this was merely another dream, another illusion that swayed through his thoughts to bring him momentary peace.
ONE
Work on the Cooper Ranch had been grueling that spring. Winter in northern Arizona had proved exceptionally hard, with record snowfalls and endless days and nights hitting record low temperatures. It almost seemed as if the Cooper family had lost more cattle than had survived and now that spring had reluctantly appeared, dragging her feet well into the middle of it, Reese H. Cooper Jr. was hesitant to believe the chill of Mother Nature wouldn’t shroud the land once more to remind him of her power.
“You need to take a breather, Reese. You’ve been non-stop for weeks now, son,” his dad, Reese Harrington Cooper Sr., told him as they stood out along the downed perimeter fence near the entrance to their land. Reese had started his work early that morning, hoping to have this section repaired by nightfall. Another half-hour and he’d meet his goal . . . for today. Mending fences was an endless task.
“Just taking care of a few things, Dad. Nothing out of the ordinary,” Reese countered, knowing full well his explanation wouldn’t be enough to temper his dad’s warning. He’d been working hard all day, and his soiled clothes reflected his progress. His long-sleeved dark gray T-shirt was now stained and torn beyond keeping, and his jeans were in even worse shape, but still salvageable. His boots were caked with dust and dirt, and his light-gray Western work hat had seen better days. All he wanted now was a shower, some of his mom’s food, and a bed.
The two family sheepdogs, Clint and Duke, sniffed the ground, checking for any critters that might cause trouble, then barked whenever they found something they didn’t like. At the moment, they clearly didn’t like the fancy white pickup that headed their way. Probably yet another rancher stopping by to work a deal after hearing about the cattle auction Reese and his brother were planning to attend. This year the Coopers would be selling most of the feeder calves, and the surrounding ranchers couldn’t seem to wait for the auction. Many of them had already put in their own bids.
“You’re gonna run outta steam before we get to the hard part.”
The ‘hard part’ his dad referred to was moving and gathering up what was left of the herd from the winter pastures and relocating them to the summer pastures, which took about four grueling days to accomplish. The cattle drive itself would take half that time if they could pass through what was once government-leased land.
But last year, all that changed.
“I’ll be up for it. We can’t move them until we’re sure of the weather, and the way it’s been looking, we may still be in for some hard, cold rain that might turn into ice. I’d say we have another week or so before we should even consider a move.”
Reese Jr. was about to further argue his point when that white pickup rolled in closer to the fence, stopping only a couple feet away.
“What the hell does he want?” Reese Sr. spit out as he gazed over at the tall, thin man who stepped out from the pickup, the familiar Circle Starr logo emblazoned on its doors.
Chuck Starr ambled towards them, decked out in the finest cowboy gear his money could afford: chocolate-colored hat, tan Western shirt, pressed jeans, black boots, and a glistening NFR rodeo buckle from bull riding during his more reckless, younger days.
“Fence looks good,” Chuck said as he approached, a snarky smirk tucked under a thick gray mustache, green eyes boring holes into each of the men. “Been wondering when your boys would get ’round to fixin’ it.” He directed his barb a
t Reese Sr. knowing full well his mere presence caused suspicion.
Reese Jr. could see the irritation building on his dad’s face.
“You got no business here, Chuck Starr,” his dad said. “Now climb back in that fancy rig of yours and drive on back home where you belong.”
His father’s voice sounded shaky and weak, as if he wasn’t pulling in enough air. It scared Reese Jr. just listening to him speak. His dad had been harboring a cold that seemed to want to hang on no matter the strength of the medicine.
“That’s where you’re wrong, old man. I got me some business with your son here.”
Chuck Starr was exactly three years and two months younger than Reese Sr., but Chuck always referred to him as ‘old man’, a term that always ignited his dad’s anger to a fever pitch.
“None of my children would ever do business with the likes of you.” His dad took a couple steps closer, his fists clenched and his jaw set.
Chuck grinned and turned to Reese Jr. “You mean you didn’t tell your dad about our deal?”
Circle Starr Ranch was one of the largest privately-owned properties in the country, encompassing some eight-hundred-thousand acres. And if it weren’t for the stubborn Cooper family, whose land sat smack in the middle of the Starr property, the Circle Starr would be ranked number one in the top five of the largest ranches this side of the Mississippi.
“Last I remember, we don’t have a deal,” Reese Jr. told him, his voice catching in his tight, dry throat.
“Yet. We don’t have a deal yet, but I’m confident we will.”
Reese could see the strain building on his dad’s face, a strain Reese was hoping to avoid. Reese hadn’t told his dad about the latest offer on the Cooper Ranch that Chuck Starr had made, an offer that was almost one and a half times greater than what the ranch was worth. An offer that would more than take care of his parents for the rest of their lives, and give each of the Cooper siblings enough money to start new lives somewhere other than Wild Cross, a town that had been dwindling in significance for the last decade or so.
Now that Chuck Starr had somehow managed to buy the one strip of government-owned land that many of the other ranchers, including the Coopers, had leased and used for either grazing or as a passage for their livestock, moving their cattle had turned into a real challenge. Chuck Starr was charging a fee to use his newly acquired land, and any fee was more than most of the ranchers were willing to pay, especially Reese’s dad, who would sooner sell off his herd than pay Chuck Starr one nickel.
“Ain’t ever gonna do any kind of deal with you, Chuck Starr, so don’t go dirtying up your shiny boots walkin’ on my land trying to scare up something that won’t never be,” Reese Sr. growled.
According to Reese Sr., Chuck Starr and the Cooper family had been rivals ever since Chuck had settled in this valley over twenty years ago. Reese wasn’t too sure how the feud had started, but he knew a big part of it had to do with their individual land holdings. The Cooper family had once owned over two-hundred-thousand acres, which had been whittled away over the past three decades to a mere fifty-two-thousand acres. Though a far cry from the amount of land Circle Starr Enterprises now owned, the Cooper land, at least what was left of it, was some of the richest in all of Arizona. Not only did it hold one of the only natural springs in northern Arizona, but it was home to some of the downright prettiest meadows, prettier than anything in all of the Circle Starr’s thousands of acres. Starr ENT had been trying to get their hands on this last bit of land ever since he could remember, but no matter what the offer, neither Reese Sr., nor Reese Jr., was selling.
Yet.
“Costin’ you money to keep feeding what’s left of your pitiful herd. You need to sell ’em and be done with it. It’s money right out of your empty pockets. Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll add eighty thousand more to my already generous offer to include the whole lot of your livestock, just to ease your stress.”
“Would rather sell them off to the lowest bidder than see you with any of my cattle, much less this ranch. You ain’t ever gettin’ your hands on these acres. Never!” His dad barely got the words out when he started coughing, a rough, dry cough. Doc Snow said it was of little concern, but Doc Snow was eighty years old and could barely move. Reese had wanted to take his dad to a specialist in Flagstaff, but his dad wouldn’t hear of it. He’d been going to Doc Snow for fifty years, and intended to keep right on going to him until one of them was underground . . . which, from the sound of that cough, Reese hoped it wouldn’t be his father.
As Chuck moved closer to the fence, his gaze focused on Reese Jr., but when Clint and Duke bared their teeth and growled, he backed off. “That cough of your dad’s sounds bad. Maybe you should do the man a favor and get him out from under this burden. Be the good son he trained you to be.”
Reese and Chuck stared at each other for a moment while Reese Sr. gained control over his cough, then Chuck walked back to his rig and drove off.
There had always been something about Chuck Starr that Reese could never pin down, a feeling that Reese got whenever he was around him. A sense that for all of Chuck’s bluster, all of his conniving ways, that somewhere down deep he had a soft spot for Reese. It wasn’t anything Reese could point to, no clear outward signs, just something he’d always felt since the first day he’d met him inside what was then Harmony’s Diner in town when Chuck gave up his table in the crowded restaurant for Reese and his mom.
Since then, Reese could never out and out hate the man, no matter what his dad and the rest of the town said about him.
“Don’t listen to him, son,” Reese Sr. said. “I’m fine. Just a little dry cough, is all.”
Reese turned to face his dad, who hadn’t looked well since the last case of bronchitis took him down two months ago. He still hadn’t gotten his weight back, and that worrisome cough wouldn’t let go. “You’re not fine, dad. You need to rest.”
“Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” Reese Sr. replied as he mounted Ruby Sunday, his favorite horse, a cream-colored gelding. No matter the distance, he rarely drove a vehicle across his land. A cowboy to his core, he preferred four legs to four wheels any day of the week. “With all that hullabaloo from Chuck Starr, I forgot why I came out here. Your ma sent me to fetch you. Dinner’s heatin’ up and you should come on in before she brings it out to you. And you know she will.”
Reese’s mom, Catherine, stood about five feet tall on a good day, and weighed in right around a hundred pounds with her boots on. She swore when the situation warranted strong words, prayed in church every Sunday, and didn’t take no lip from man nor beast. Reese had seen his mom scare off a three-ton bull with nothing more than a broom and her apron after that bull had meandered into her kitchen to satisfy his curiosity on one of her homemade bumbleberry pies. Reese had never seen a bull run so fast to get back out to his pen as when his mom went after that pie eater.
“No doubt. I’ll be in with plenty of time to clean up. Been thinking all afternoon about that pork loin she’s been roasting.”
“Then we’ll be waitin’ on you, son,” his dad said. “There’s always tomorrow to fix what ain’t been fixed today. ’Sides, one of your brothers could fix that there fence as easily as you can. Seems to me, you could make better use of your time if you made them do more of the work. You’ve always been too easy on those boys, and way too hard on yourself. You need a break every now and again or the work’s gonna break you, son. Equal parts hard work and hard play is always best. You let one or the other take over and you’re in for a world of trouble, and from what I’ve been seein’ lately, you’re headin’ for more trouble than you got a mind for.” Then he rode off, slumping forward in the saddle with Clint and Duke following close behind, barking at potential enemies hidden in the restless grass.
Reese finished up the repairs he’d made to the downed fence he’d tackled earlier that day, closed his toolbox, and headed back to his flatbed truck. Every muscle in his body ached, and his cracked, chapped hands
needed a good dose of shea butter. He couldn’t remember when his hands didn’t feel like coarse-grade sandpaper. The vicious winter that had caused an excessive amount of damage to the fences, outbuildings, and the corrals on the ranch was now taking its toll on him. His body needed some repair work, but he knew thoughts like that only made his work more difficult.
His three brothers tried to contribute whenever they could, but for some reason their dad didn’t always see it that way. In his mind, only Reese Jr. worked the ranch on a continuous basis, while the rest of his siblings pitched in when they had the time. Still, Reese knew that each of them had their own duties, whether bookkeeping or caring for the livestock. It was all grueling work, especially when everyone knew holding onto the ranch might be wishful thinking. Reese was the only one among them who felt they still had a fighting chance. Even their sister, Shiloh, who normally embraced optimism, had all but given up.
If Reese hadn’t had to let so many of the ranch hands go, the many repairs might have been made by now. As it was, the Cooper ranch was down to a skeleton crew, and that skeleton was getting more and more brittle with each passing day.
The ranch needed an influx of money to stay afloat, and if they lost any more of their cattle, or if one more thing needed major repairs, Reese didn’t know how they would get through the spring, let alone the entire next year.
But whatever their financial problems, right now Reese just wanted his dad to get well again. Aside from that, nothing else mattered.
THE LAST TIME Avery Templeton sped up the streets of Wild Cross, Arizona, she was just about to celebrate her tenth birthday, an historic occasion, according to her mom, and one that needed memorable events to mark its passing. Her mom had told her that going from single digits to double digits was noteworthy, and that from now on whenever she celebrated a zero birthday, she should always do something very special to propel herself into the oncoming decade.