This would be the end.
Actually, it should never have begun. But since it had, he damned well didn’t intend to feel bad about it. So, why did a hole open in his gut the minute she slipped through the door leading back to her living area? The sharp snick of the door closing felt like a stab to his heart.
Swearing, Colt clamped his teeth together. He switched off the light and locked the door behind him, positive he wouldn’t go home and sleep.
He was wrong about that, he discovered at five-ten. That was when Trace descended on him, shaking him harshly. “Wake up, Coltrane. Uncle Marley’s on the phone. He says it’s important.”
That news catapulted Colt from pleasant dreams of Summer. “’Lo, Marley,” he croaked into a receiver that almost slipped from his suddenly icy fingers.
“I’ve got half the money we need. And a firm promise for the other half next week. Gabe’s on his way to Callanton. Tracey tells me you’re about to head out on roundup. Make sure you touch base with Gabe by cell phone so he can arrange the final plans for presenting our offer to Mrs. Marsh. We’ll beat Adams’s offer, so we’ll approach her first.”
Colt licked his lips where the taste of Summer’s skin still lingered.
“Trane? We still connected?”
“Yeah. I’ll find a way to meet Gabe.”
“Good. Two weeks max, and you’ll be out of Callanton, on your way to your next assignment.”
Colt disconnected without a word of farewell. He hated the thought of walking away and leaving Summer as if she was no more than another completed assignment.
CHAPTER TEN
IN A BLACK MOOD HE BLAMED on lack of sleep, Colt slapped his gear together under Tracey’s watchful eye.
“Your horses are beauties, Coltrane. Which one do I get to ride?”
“Gambler and Mystic. The black and the bay with the star face.”
“You know, I learned a lot about Morgans the night I read to Rory. I’d always assumed the breed was strictly associated with harness racing.”
“They’re the most versatile horse on the market. They have a proud, distinctive bearing regardless of the work they’re given to do.”
“Marc said your ex sold your stud and most of the geldings and mares before Reggie Mossberger read about the sale in a trade paper. At least he saved four for you.”
“Are you trying to ruin my day, Tracey? ’Cause it started out bad and now it’s gone downhill with the mere mention of Monica’s double-dealing.”
Tracey slid off the kitchen stool. “Sorry. I’ll take your pack out to the mules. Summer said we only needed stuff for three days. She’s driving the first batch of steers in Sunday night to corral them here. That’s so Rory can go back to school on Monday.”
“Virgil told me that.” Colt dumped perishables out of the fridge and took a last look around as he grabbed his saddlebags and the plastic bag to throw in the trash from the counter. Turning back at the door, he retrieved his cell phone. Outside he heard Summer shouting, “Rory, time to mount up,” and decided he’d better wait to phone Gabe. He’d do it from somewhere along the trail.
The kid was so excited he all but bounced off the corral railings. Lancelot acted no better. He cavorted like a pup.
“Hi, Colt!” Rory bounded over to greet Colt. “Guess what? I get to help round up cows. Last year my dad said I was too little to go with Mom. This year I’m bigger.”
Closer to the truth might be that Rory got to go this year because his dad wasn’t around to object. The remark hovered on the tip of Colt’s tongue. At the last moment, he bit it back.
Summer galloped up, sliding her mare to a standstill between Colt and Tracey. A relaxed smile wreathed her face. “We’ll consider these first days a trial run for everyone—sort of a chance to synchronize. Monday, I have a few errands to do in town. Tuesday, we’ll begin finding out what kind of stuff you guys are really made of.”
“You’re feeling your oats today,” Tracey teased.
Summer grinned and glanced at Colt, noticing that he wore a sour expression. “Uh, we should…uh…all be feeling great. We’re on schedule in spite of the unexpected setback of the explosion at the granary.”
“You obviously got more sleep than my friend here. Or maybe Colt just got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Rory hopped off the fence and ran up, giggling. “My teacher says that’s a silly thing to say, unless one side of your bed’s against the wall. Is yours, Colt?”
Giving up in the face of so much banter, Colt put down his saddle, grabbed Rory and blew raspberries near the boy’s ear.
As Rory screamed delightedly, begging Colt to tickle him again, the man unleashed his first genuine smile of the morning—to Summer’s relief.
“Okay, boys,” Summer drawled. “Enough horseplay. Save your energy for rounding up cantankerous steers.”
Rory attempted twice to ask the meaning of the awkward word.
Colt hoisted the boy into the saddle of the smallest horse. “Women like using big words, kid. Cantankerous means ornery or grumpy or—” he hesitated and grinned “—or it describes somebody who got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
The boy made the connection. They all did. Summer, especially, appreciated Colt’s ability to poke fun at himself. “While you all mount up, I’m going to dash in to check on the menagerie. Virgil said Bozo Bear went totally off his feed. Captive bears aren’t generally known to hibernate. Besides, it’s too early. I want to make sure he isn’t sick or something.”
“Be careful he isn’t playing possum,” Colt warned.
Looping her reins around a fence post, she threw him a long-suffering smile. “He’s the third cub I’ve rescued. I think I probably know more about bears’ habits than you do, city boy.”
“Who’re you calling city boy?” Colt tried to pop her on the butt with his leather gloves, but Summer easily evaded him. The byplay and her amused laughter sent heat waves to his groin. A picture of how carefree she’d looked last night rose up suddenly to blur his sight.
Trace had to call him twice to break his concentration as Colt watched Summer cross the compound. “I said, here, Colt.” Tracey handed him Spirit’s reins. “Virg thought you’d want him on the shorter ride. He said Spirit’s okay now.”
“Great.” Bending, Colt ran his hand down the affected leg. “He’s right as rain. Audrey concocts a phenomenal salve.” Straightening, Colt pointed to his cheek—the one cut by flying glass. “I’ve never seen cuts heal so fast. Remind me, the next time either of us goes to town, I want to ship Mossberger a sample. Audrey may be on to something that, if patented, could ensure her and Virgil a tidy income in retirement.”
“Really?”
“Yep. But don’t say anything to Summer or Virgil. I mean…in case it doesn’t pan out.”
“Gotcha. Here she comes. Guess we’re heading out.”
The men quickly mounted. Tracey loosened the coil on his rope and tossed a practice loop at the gate post. He missed by six inches.
“Can you rope that post, Colt?” Rory rode closer, eyeing the well-worn rope hanging from Colt’s saddle.
Colt pulled on his gloves, then let his rope circle over his head a few times. His lariat settled in a whisper around the wood.
Trace took being beaten with equanimity.
“I’m impressed,” Summer said, shading her eyes as Colt flipped the rope loose and reeled it in.
“Wow!” Rory’s eyes bugged. “Will you teach me how to do that?”
“Sure. When we get some free time.”
From then on, Rory dogged Colt’s heels, keeping up a running chatter. Midway through the morning, Summer took pity on Colt. Insinuating her mare between them, she explained to Rory about checking brands. “When a lot of wranglers are cutting stock, Rory, it’s easy for calves to get confused. We have to watch to make sure the ones we take belong to a cow wearing the Forked Lightning brand.”
“Why? If the babies wanna come with us, can’t we let ’em? You and Colt broug
ht the baby eagles home. You told Audrey they put up a fight.”
“That’s different,” Summer said. “The eaglets would have died if we hadn’t reunited them with their mother.”
Colt dived headlong into the conversation. “You know your mom’s planning to set all the eagles free as soon as their mama’s wing heals, don’t you, Rory?”
“Yeah. But Daddy told me calves are worth a lot of money. I thought if we kept all the calves we found, we might not have to move someplace else.”
“Rory, no one wants to leave the Forked Lightning less than I do. But it’s stealing to take the calf of a cow not wearing our brand. So, no stealing babies from mamas, okay? Tell you what, Lancelot knows which calves belong with our mamas. Let him separate them out. Then you keep together all the cows and calves he brings in.”
“Okay. Lancelot’s smart, aren’t you, boy?”
The dog perked his ears at hearing his name. He trotted proudly in front of the horses as if he understood that his job was of paramount importance.
They’d only ridden a few miles farther when they stumbled on the first clump of steers. Summer and Lancelot began cutting out the ones with lightning-bolt brands.
Colt would have liked to stop and watch her team work: dog, horse and rider exhibited grace and beauty. Tracey culled an equal number. Colt came in a dismal third. He discovered steers were no more tractable than Summer’s bull had been.
Yet by the time she signaled a break, they’d massed a herd of forty or so.
Colt cantered up to Summer. “At the risk of sounding like the greenhorn I am, how do we keep this batch from wandering off while we ride on and hunt for more?”
“That’s a legitimate question,” she said, handing him a canteen of water. “When you were out here looking for Jim Dandy, I guess you didn’t see the holding pens. Local ranchers have constructed one pen every twenty square miles. I’ve divided the Forked Lightning grazing area into four parts, and at the end of each quarter roundup, we’ll drive the stock collected in the holding pens to rail cars. Tallymen issue receipts, which are later converted to cash based on beef prices at the time my steers are sold.”
“Sounds complicated. But I suppose you’ve been doing it this way for years.”
“Yes. And, to me, there’s something infinitely satisfying in the repetitiveness.”
Colt wiped the mouth of the canteen and handed it back. “Virgil said you’re good at ranching.”
A woeful expression crept into the hazel eyes that slowly swept the vast high-desert chaparral. “I’ve never imagined doing anything else. I’ve always pictured myself ranching when I’m ninety. Don’t you miss raising horses, Coltrane?”
“Every minute of my life.” His answer shook with such emotion Summer wasn’t surprised that he reined his horse away from her and tore off at a gallop. It struck her how little of himself Colt Quinn let other people glimpse.
Physically close though they’d been last night, he’d shared only a few facts about his past. His parents were dead. He’d suffered who knew what in a rebel prison, which probably meant he’d served in the military. He’d been badly hurt by his wife. And he was a soft touch when it came to animals and kids. Summer suspected that at heart they had similar hopes and dreams for the future.
No wonder she’d felt an instant kinship with Coltrane Quinn.
There was a side benefit to riding the range, hunting for Forked Lightning stock—her mind was free to wander at will. On the heels of that revelation, another thought sneaked in, and she couldn’t seem to dislodge it. If she sold the Forked Lightning and got Frank off her back, wouldn’t she have enough money to buy another, smaller spread? A place large enough to raise prime Belted Galloways—and Morgan horses.
Against her better judgment, Summer began to picture such a place. A place big enough for a rambunctious boy and his dog, and maybe other children and pets, too.
It was a picture fresh in her mind as she rode into a thicket of brush and nearly collided with Colt, whose horse stood at ease because Colt sat with a cell phone at his ear.
He glanced up, clearly discomfited at seeing her.
Damn! Colt groaned to himself. He’d had a devil of a time shaking loose from her and Rory. Even though he heard Gabe pick up on the other end, Colt quickly terminated his call. “Just checking to see if we have cell service this far out,” he lied, folding the cover and tucking the device back in his saddlebag.
“I would’ve told you we have relay stations on the mountains if you’d asked,” Summer said, sparing a moment to wonder why he looked guilty, or why he cared if service reached out here.
He shrugged. “It was just easier when I thought about it to check for a dial tone.”
“Um. Don’t let me stop you from making a private call. I’ll just leave.”
“I said I was only checking on service,” he repeated irritably. “What’s up, anyway?”
“Nothing. I saw something in this brush. That’s why I came to look.”
“Well, there are no Forked Lightning cattle here. Rory, Tracey and Lancelot drove about a dozen head over to pen up with the others.”
She started to nudge her mount away, then spun back in obvious confusion. “Colt, you’ve been so snappish today, I have to ask. Do you regret last night, after all?”
“For your sake, I should. But I don’t.”
Her lips tilted upward at that admission. “We’ve both been hurt by past relationships. That makes us kindred spirits in a way. I promise I won’t hurt you, Colt.” Clucking to her mare, Summer trotted out of the thicket.
But I’m going to hurt you, Summer. The knowledge beat so loudly inside Colt’s head that he closed his eyes and massaged his temples in an attempt to alleviate the sound of his own betrayal.
He should telephone Gabe again right now, while he had the freedom. But Colt couldn’t bring himself to do that. He didn’t want to hear how far Gabe had progressed in setting up SOS’s line of credit. Gabe was too adept at what he did for Colt to think he’d blow their cover by contacting the bank in Callanton. He’d probably use a larger branch in Burns. Colt had already reported the name of the bank Summer still hadn’t heard from regarding her loan request. Gabe would avoid that one.
Feeling like a traitor to both SOS and Summer, Colt continued to keep his distance from the others as he made his way doggedly in and out of the washes, searching for cattle with Summer’s brand.
Considering how gruff he’d been earlier to Rory, it was surprising the boy continued to tag after him, copying every move. And Colt didn’t have it in him to be tough on a kid who seemed starved for a man’s attention. So, late in the afternoon when Summer called another coffee break, Colt removed his lariat from his saddle and set about showing Rory how to toss a loop.
“Who teached you to rope, Colt?” Rory danced around as he watched Colt ready the lariat.
“Taught’s the correct word. And it was my dad. When I was your age, he competed in rodeos. Roping’s something contestants and their kids do a lot to pass the time between events.”
“Rodeos, wow! Some kids in my class went to the Pendleton Roundup. I sure wish my dad had taken me. He said rodeos are smelly and dirty.”
“Well, rodeo cowboys do pretty much the same things your mom does on the ranch. Except cowboys earn points and prize money for riding and roping.” Taking Rory’s hand, Colt helped guide him through the first toss.
“I missed.” Rory seemed surprised.
Colt laughed. “You’ll probably miss a million times before you get the hang of it. Roping’s not easy. Like most everything, you get better with practice.”
“A million times, huh? I can’t even count that far.” Rory sounded dejected.
“You don’t need to keep a tally of misses. Hey, lookee there. You hit the post that time.” The boy’s hat had fallen off in the process. Colt ruffled his blond hair before bending to pick it up. “That was a good throw. Lift your elbow a little more, and I’ll bet you snag that old post at least once befor
e our break’s over.”
Rory giggled happily. Seeing his mom approaching, he jumped up and down in excitement. “Did you see how close I came, Mom? Did ya? Colt thinks I did good.”
Colt faced her after plunking Rory’s hat back on his head. He’d thought Rory’s advance warning about Summer’s arrival would give him time to hide how the mere sight of her affected certain parts of his body. He was wrong. Her jaunty walk and sweet smile made his pulse jump erratically. Blood surged elsewhere, too….
“Yes, I saw how close you came, Rory. Did you thank Colt?” Summer reminded him gently.
Spinning, the boy flung his arms around the man. “Thanks, Colt. When I learn to throw a rope good, I’ll be able to help Mom more with our cows.”
Rory squeezed him so tight around his hips, Colt grimaced. He loosened the boy’s death grip, lifting him in the air to cover his response to a bolt of pain.
“I hate to ruin your fun, guys, but we have the rest of this quadrant to cover before we call a halt for the night.”
“Aw, Mom,” Rory grumbled as Colt put him down again.
Coiling the rope, Colt leaned down and handed it to the child. “You practice making the loop while you’re hunting for cows. Maybe there’ll be time after supper to try again.”
Rory hugged Colt harder, whispering shakily, “Tracey said you’re probably gonna leave when roundup’s done. I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay forever, Colt.”
Colt wasn’t prepared for the impact those words had on a lonely man’s soul. Knocked off kilter, he couldn’t quite manage an answer. He gave Rory an awkward pat on the back.
And obviously the boy hadn’t needed a response. He wriggled away, and dragged his rope off as he returned to his horse.
Summer, who’d caught the exchange, saw the turbulence in Colt’s eyes the minute he straightened. “Kids Rory’s age transfer allegiance from person to person like honey bees flit from flower to flower. There’s no need to panic, Coltrane. I won’t use my son’s fleeting devotion to shackle you to my bed. I know you’ve tried to avoid me today. In spite of your claim, I believe you’re having second thoughts about last night.”
Wide Open Spaces (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 17