“Have you been practicing on the ground?” Wyatt asked as she rode into the arena to join him. He might be roping for fun, but he expected certain things from his partner.
“Some.”
“Turn that ‘some’ into ‘a lot’ before the rodeo.”
“Yes, sir.” The ropers creed was to never stop roping. She’d been putting in an hour on the dummy three times a week, but she’d up that. When she’d been competing, she’d practiced on the ground before school and on horseback after. Her hands had been callused and unladylike, despite her gloves, but she hadn’t cared because the guys she went out with also rodeoed and understood calluses.
Ty understood calluses. And he’d certainly known how to use his own callused hands to advantage…
Stop.
It turned out to be a good night practice-wise. She only missed once and even then managed to pick up one heel. A penalty, but still a score.
“You’re quite the dead-eye,” Wyatt said as they dismounted at the edge of the arena.
“I know. Crazy.”
“Why crazy?” he asked mildly.
Shelby shot her friend a look and figured there was no sense lying about matters. “I thought I’d be more distracted. Ty’s back.”
“Yeah, I know,” Wyatt said dryly. “We discussed that the last time we roped. Katie said you looked like you wanted to take her head off when she mentioned it at the chute.”
Shelby settled a hand on the back of her saddle. “No. I mean back, as in back on the ranch.”
Wyatt’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Why in the hell is he back on the ranch?”
Shelby appreciated the protective note in his voice, but she didn’t feel like defending herself to her roping partner. “Long story.”
“Bore me.”
For a moment their gazes clashed and finally Shelby gave in. “Gramps needs help. We have to fence the riparian and I have too many horse contracts to help him.”
“So he’s working for your grandpa.”
“And living on the ranch in a camp trailer.”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes at her in a “really?” expression.
“Hey,” Shelby muttered, sounding only slightly less defensive than she felt, “I’m going to see him anyway in Marietta. It’s only for a few weeks.”
“Total immersion?”
Shelby blinked at him. She’d underestimated his understanding of the situation. “It seemed the best course of action. If I’m around him a lot, then it’ll desensitize things. Kind of like sacking out a green colt.”
“If you say so.”
Shelby shrugged as she pulled the reins over her borrowed horse’s head. “To be frank, I have no idea what the best course of action is or was, but Gramps needed help. Ty knows him and he knows the ranch. Gramps won’t be able to bully him or pull the boss card, both of which he’ll do with someone else.”
They started leading their horses to the gate, sandy dirt crunching beneath their boots, making it difficult to walk.
Finally, Wyatt said, “Well, having him there hasn’t hurt your roping none.” He gave her a sideways look. “Maybe because we both know that worry keeps you from psyching yourself out about roping.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“You sound like you’re convincing yourself.”
“More like reminding myself.”
Wyatt gave her a long look and she could see he was on verge of saying something she didn’t want to hear. “You really think this is a good idea, Shelby? Because I don’t.”
“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” She took her hat off and slapped it on her leg to shake off the arena dust, then put it back on her head.
“I’m a guy. And a realist.”
“It will work, Wyatt. Because I’m going to make it work.”
“More power to you, Shelby. And… good luck.”
“Thanks.” Although she would have felt better about Wyatt’s well wishes if they hadn’t been delivered on such a dark note.
*
Ty idly rubbed his bad shoulder as he walked back to the camp trailer. After the “talk”, Les allowed Ty to take over the posthole diggers and they finished the fence braces in the tricky spots that Les couldn’t access with the tractor and auger. The creek meandered through the leased land in long lazy turns and the plan was to fence the north side, then tackle the south. The north side was the more challenging of the two, since that was where the willows flourished. If they got too close to the creek, the posts had no purchase. If they got too far away, Les was losing feed.
He walked into the trailer, wondered what to do about dinner. Granola bars or a trip to town to eat at the café? He was beat, didn’t feel like driving, but he was hungry. And pretty damned dirty. He’d gone knee deep in muck twice that day. Les had offered him use of the washing machine, but Ty hadn’t given an answer. He was on the ranch, but he wasn’t going to push things. He knew Shelby well enough to understand that even though she’d asked him onto the place, she had limits. And if he pushed, she was going to push back.
He had a narrow line to walk here.
His trailer was set up next to the old homestead house on the west side of the barn, where he could shower in a place larger than a postage stamp—no, the camp trailer’s shower was actually smaller than that. Les used the building to store grain and excess tack and to doctor young animals. The shower had pretty good water pressure and, even though the air in the unheated bathroom was cold, the water was hot. Thank you fifty-year-old gas water heater. Ty stripped down, leaving his clothes on a beat-up old chair, then stepped under the spray, lifting his chin to let the water hit his upper chest and loosen the tight muscles there. If he felt this bad after digging holes, then riding was going to beat the shit out of him.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Hopefully wouldn’t be the last.
Ty finally grabbed the soap when the water started to cool. By the time he’d lathered up and rinsed off he was dealing with frigid. He’d time things better tomorrow.
He shoved his damp skin into his clean jeans and shrugged into his shirt. He rarely missed a nightly session with his free weights, but today he’d done enough exercise; all he wanted was a beer and food. And maybe some heat ointment. Damn, but he was sore. Apparently therapy and weights hadn’t prepared him for the reality of trying to outwork an old man.
Les had definitely challenged him, but as the day wore on, Ty had begun to see why Shelby was concerned about her grandfather. Les stopped what he was doing at least twice to grab hold of a post and stand stock still, as if waiting for a spell to pass. The second time Ty asked if he was dizzy.
Les had simply frowned at him and said, “Straightened up too fast.”
Good answer, except he hadn’t been bent over. And then there was the matter of him admitting he needed help. That never would have happened back in the day, which made Ty glad that Shelby had swallowed her pride and asked him to hire on. Les honestly did need help now, but once the fence was built, there wasn’t much to be done on the place over the winter, except for feeding and catching up on the mechanic-ing. Les could handle that and, who knew, maybe come spring, if the circuit didn’t go well—
What the fuck?
Since when did he think like that?
He’d thought that way for a few weeks after being broken to the point the doctors told him he probably wouldn’t ride again. He’d announced he was through, but looking back, he half wondered if that had been to get his dad off his back… and maybe the concussion hadn’t helped his cognitive abilities.
Well, he’d set speed records healing, had done all of his rehab, bought a new vest in case another horse decided to smash him in the chute. Broken or not, he was riding in the Copper Mountain. If he didn’t destroy himself, then he was set to start the new rodeo season in October.
Chapter Five
Shelby set a crock of stew on the table and called her grandfather to dinner before heading to the cupboard for dinnerware. If it wasn’t for the sl
ow cooker, they’d be eating peanut butter and crackers most nights, because neither of them had time to cook during their jam-packed days.
Things would slow down as soon as the snow fell. She’d stop training full-time and start pinching pennies until training season started again. She was usually able to get on during the Christmas season at one of the larger stores in Livingston or Bozeman, even though Gramps hated her making the drive. Money was tight year around, but she was doing what she loved and living frugally seemed a reasonable trade off.
“Gramps,” she called again.
Nothing.
She set down the bowls she’d just pulled out of the cupboard and peeked into the living room. Her grandfather was sound asleep in his chair, even though he and Ty had quit almost an hour earlier than they had the day before—possibly because Gramps had wanted to be there when her new horse arrived—the one from the ritzy ranch people.
Fine. The stew would keep. And if she left for her evening out in Marietta before he woke up, she’d prop a note on the table telling him where she was.
Gramps began snoring as she finished her meal. Shelby did her best to find comfort in the sound, although part of her wondered why, three days into Ty’s stint on the ranch, her grandfather was still coming home exhausted. Ty was supposed to be doing most of the work.
One way to find out was to ask.
She washed the bowl and put it into the drain rack to dry, then went to the kitchen window just in time to see Ty disappear into the machine shed.
Quarry sighted. She quietly let herself out the back door.
“Hey,” she called when Ty came out of the shed again and started toward the barn, his limp slightly more pronounced than it had been when he first arrived. He stopped and turned and her heart jumped as their gazes connected. He was so damned gorgeous, all hard lines and muscle.
Shelby shoved the thought aside. Parts of her couldn’t stop wanting him—the parts that didn’t know any better. The rest of her was still damned angry and hurt and not about to slide down that slippery slope again.
“Hi,” he said on a cautious note. It was the first words they’d exchanged in a day and a half.
“How’s the fencing going?”
“Slow. Lots of muck to contend with.”
“Are you letting Gramps do more than he should?”
He blew out a breath. “I’m doing my best to rein him in.”
“I thought you said you could make him think he was busting his ass.”
“In the old days I could have.”
“What’s changed?”
“I think that he’s trying to get this fence done as soon as possible to get me off the ranch and away from you.”
Shelby stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
Ty gave his head a slow shake.
“But he agreed to this plan.”
“Probably because he knew it was senseless not to.”
“Meaning…?”
“Once you get an idea in your head, you’re like a terrier with a rat.”
Shelby frowned at him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Take it as you will. I’m honestly trying to take the lead.”
“Try harder.”
“Will do.”
Shelby glanced at the machine shed and saw that Ty had ripped into one of the four-wheelers. Her shoulders slumped. “Please don’t tell me we’re looking at something major?”
“Not certain, but it’s running rough. Thought I’d take a look before showering.”
Ty wiped his hands on a rag, slowly taking the grease off each finger. “I haven’t seen much of you since arriving.”
She gave a small shrug as her pulse bumped again. “I have a full schedule. In fact, I have another horse arriving tonight.”
“I heard.”
Good. “I’m glad you and Gramps are talking. Sometimes he doesn’t.”
“I worked with the man for a couple of years.”
“You also screwed with his granddaughter and he doesn’t like that.”
“No kidding.” He gave his hands a final wipe. “Is that why you’re avoiding me?”
“Avoiding you?”
“I’ve seen the neighbor more often than I’ve seen you.”
“I have no need to avoid you. We’re starting over, remember? Clean slate?”
His mouth curved. That gorgeous, treacherous, could-do-things-to-her mouth. “I remember,” he said softly.
The words flowed over her like a caress. This was not going well.
“Maybe I’ll stop by after you get off work each day and touch base.”
She meant the words to be sarcastic, but Ty took them at face value. “Good idea. I could tell you how far we’ve gotten. Give you a Les report, since he’s the reason I’m here.”
“Yes. Good idea.” Hoisted on her own petard. But full immersion was the name of the game and she’d been side-stepping—to the point that Ty had called her on it.
“Cool.”
“Cool.” She echoed. “I need to take care of some stuff in the house. Like I said, I have a horse coming in about an hour and some business in town after that.”
“Busy evening.”
She gave a small shrug. “Keeps me out of trouble.”
She hoped. Because trouble incarnate was standing a few yards away from her.
*
Ty figured out the problem with the fuel line shortly after Shelby marched away toward the house, patched things up, then headed to the homestead house to shower.
She wasn’t avoiding him. Right. He’d worked on this ranch before and Shelby had been all over the place then. Now she tended to make a beeline from the horse corrals to the house as soon as she finished training and feeding. And if she was avoiding him, then she wasn’t indifferent to him.
Ty showered quickly, cranking off the water before it started to go cold. Three days in and he was no longer sore in places he hadn’t been sore in a while. He toweled off quickly, slipping into his jeans and beat up moccasins before slinging the towel over his bare shoulder. When he stepped out of the house, he shivered as the much-warmer early evening air hit him. It had to be twenty degrees colder in the house than it was outside. He’d just opened the trailer door when he heard the distinctive rattle of a horse trailer coming up the drive.
No doubt the horse that had Les concerned.
He and the old man were finally to a point where they were talking while they worked and Les wasn’t happy about Shelby taking on the horse arriving that evening—the horse that was here now.
“Money and contacts are no reason to take on a nine-year-old rehab case,” he’d muttered more than once that day as they’d starting stretching wire along the first section of completed posts and braces.
“He might just need a firm hand.” Ty had offered. It wasn’t unusual for inexperienced owners to let their horses take control.
“I heard about this horse. In the feed store.” Les had shot him a dark look and shook his head.
“The matter just… came up?” Ty asked.
“No. I asked if anyone knew these Barlow people. Someone knew the horse. He’s trouble.”
All the more reason for Ty to be there when the beast was unloaded. He went inside and pulled on his shirt then slapped his hat over his damp hair.
A shiny, blue truck and matching trailer pulled to a stop near the corrals. Shelby was already halfway down the walk when Ty rounded the corner of the homestead house.
A man and a woman got out of their respective sides of the expensive truck. The guy looked like he was trying very hard to look working class. He had on a chambray shirt—carefully pressed—and jeans, but that was where working class stopped and money began. His boots were lizard, his buckle sterling, his hat custom. Ty knew a lot of working guys with those same outfits, but this guy’s stuff was all shiny new.
“Hello,” the woman called to Ty as she got out of the rig. She pushed her very straight long, chestnut hair over her shoulder and started toward him. Her
mile-long legs were encased in tastefully ripped and mended jeans, which were in turn tucked into thousand-dollar boots. Her shirt was simple red-plaid flannel, rolled at the sleeves, but her hat was a multi-x beaver.
Money, money, money.
Which was a good thing for Shelby—unless this horse was as bad as Les feared.
“Hi,” he replied before gesturing toward Shelby. “Your trainer.”
“Of course!” She and the guy both turned and shifted course toward Shelby.
The guy extended his hand. “Paul Barlow. My girlfriend, Blake.” Who apparently didn’t have a last name.
Handshakes were exchanged and then Shelby introduced Ty. More handshakes.
The trailer started rocking as the horse inside started pounding the floor with his front feet.
“He’s nervous,” Blake murmured as she glanced at the trailer, looking almost proud. “He’s so beautiful. I can’t wait to ride him with my friends.”
Shelby smiled noncommittally.
“Do you want some help unloading him?” Ty asked her in a low voice.
The trailer continued to rock as the impatient animal did his number inside.
“Is he tied?” Shelby asked Paul.
“My man couldn’t get the job done, so I had him leave him loose,” Paul said.
My man?
“If you want to back the trailer to the gate, we’ll just unload him straight into the pen. Stop about four feet away.” Shelby looked expectantly at Paul, and the guy went a little pale before drawing himself up a little taller.
Blake laughed. “We’re game, if you want to take a chance with your gate. We just bought this gooseneck.” She smiled at Ty. “Maiden voyage.”
Paul did not appear to enjoy Blake’s candid comments, but Ty did. Funny how it was possible to really dislike a guy within seconds of meeting them. And from the way Paul was eyeing him, it appeared the feeling was mutual.
“I’ll do it,” Shelby said.
“I… uh…” Paul started to shake his head as if the thought of a woman behind the wheel was too much for him.
“Let her do it,” Blake said to Paul with a come-on-now smile. “It’s her gate.”
Paul struggled with his manhood, then said, “The keys are in it.”
Catch Me, Cowboy Page 5