The Cowboy and the Princess

by Lori Wilde

  “I admire your enthusiasm,” Mariah said. “Can you start tomorrow at ten?”

  “Mmm.” Annie stalled. “Is there any way you can pay me cash?”

  “You mean under the table?”

  Annie nodded.

  Mariah hesitated. “You don’t want me to report your income to the IRS?”

  “It’s not that I want to avoid taxes,” Annie hedged.

  Mariah lowered her voice. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  Annie glanced down at her hands. She hadn’t fully thought this whole thing through. Mariah was clearly an ethical woman. She wasn’t going to pay her under the table. “I can’t take the job, can I?”

  Mariah laid a gentle hand on Annie’s forearm. “I’ve had some tough times myself,” she said. “I tell you what. I hold off filing the paperwork, just until you’ve had a chance to get on your feet. After that, I’ll have to have a social security number and I’ll have to report your pay. If you can solve your issues by then, you’ve got a job.”

  “Thank you,” Annie said. “Thank you so very much.”

  Mariah shifted her gaze to Brady, then back to Annie. “Will you be staying with Brady in his trailer?”

  “Oh no,” she said so swiftly everyone at the table whipped their heads around to glance at her. “Brady just gave me a ride. We’re not . . . that is . . . um . . . he’s not . . .”

  “Annie needs her own space,” Brady rushed to say.

  He seemed awfully anxious to get rid of her. Which was good of course, she did not want to spend another night in that cramped little trailer with him. But her feelings were a bit hurt.

  “Do you know of anyone who is renting out a room?” Annie asked.

  Mariah leaned over to pick up the bits of egg that the baby had knocked onto the floor, and then she glanced over at her husband.

  Joe shrugged, apparently reading her mind. “It’s your cabin.”

  “There is a cabin at the back of our property. It’s not much to brag about, but it does have a new roof and a fresh paint job. You’re welcome to stay there.”

  “How much is the rent?” Annie asked, suddenly aware that her adventure included finding a place to live that she could afford on a salary of ten dollars an hour. She’d never had to think about money before. It was fun and scary, exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at the same time.

  “The place is just sitting empty, it might as well have someone living in it. You can have it as part of your salary compensation,” Mariah said.

  Gratitude welled up inside her. “Really?”

  Mariah looked at Annie with such kindness that she immediately felt terrible for lying to this nice woman. “Sure. Just pay the electricity bill.”

  “Thank you so very much.”

  “You’re welcome. After we finish breakfast, I’ll take you over to the cabin and you can get settled in. And you, mister,” Mariah said, turning her attention to Brady. “You don’t have to stay in your trailer unless you want to. There’s a perfectly good guest bedroom going to waste upstairs.”

  “You know me, Mariah,” Brady said. “The lone wolf.”

  Mariah rolled her eyes, whispered behind her hand to Annie. “He just wants you to feel sorry for him.”

  “I do not,” Brady protested. “I simply like my privacy.”

  “Then why didn’t you just say that?” Mariah teased.

  A few minutes later, after Ruby had cleared the breakfast dishes and Mariah had cleaned up her son, they drove to the modest, one-bedroom log cabin that sat a half mile from the main house. The entire place was smaller than Annie’s walk-in closet at the palace, but she loved it the minute she saw it.

  Behind the cabin was a large building. Mariah told her that it used to be a horse barn but it had been converted into a reception hall for the cowboy weddings that took place in the small, white clapboard chapel that stood underneath an old oak tree several yards away. The branches were so expansive it reminded Annie of the tree that had once grown outside her bedroom window. A quarter mile beyond the chapel lay another building, a corral and a big gateway arch with a hand-etched wooden sign declaring: “The Dutch Callahan Equine Center.”

  “I lived in this cabin when I first came to Jubilee,” Mariah said. “You should have seen it then. The place was falling in.”

  “It is very quaint,” Annie said, admiring the antique rocker on the front porch as they climbed the steps.

  “Quaint wasn’t the first thought that popped into my head, but if that works for you . . .” Mariah had Jonah balanced on her hip and she pulled a key from the pocket of her blue jeans to unlock the door.

  The house smelled dusty, but it was tidy. The furniture was old, the kitchen tiny.

  Dark wood paneling covered one wall, a double window was seated in another.

  Perfect. It was absolutely perfect. This was what she’d been searching for. Cramped, age-scarred, earthy, rustic. She could find herself here. Unfurl, blossom. She was a tight rosebud hungering for this sandy soil to open, spew fragrance, bloom. Six weeks. She had six weeks to flower, and her transformation started now. Annie could not wait.

  Mariah wrinkled her nose, went over to draw the curtains, and cracked open the window. Jonah reached up to grab a fistful of his mother’s ponytail, and she didn’t even flinch. A mom, accustomed to the tugging. “I didn’t realize how stuffy it was in here.”

  Annie gazed out at the pasture beyond, saw soft green rolling hills, horses and cattle grazing. Not the sea view she had from her bedroom window in Monesta, but beautiful simply because it was not. “It is lovely, truly.”

  “Lovely?” Mariah chuckled. “You have a generous definition of lovely.”

  “What is not to love? Cowboys and ranches. Animals and pasture. Clear blue skies.”

  “It’s really quiet here. Most people don’t like this kind of quiet.”

  “And yet Jubilee is the cutting horse capital of the world, is it not?”

  “It is. You’ll find out soon enough the full extent of that.”

  Annie cocked her head. “Tell me.”

  “We’re talking cutting horses, 24/7, 365.”

  Annie frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “Folks around here are ate up with horses.” Mariah put a hand to her forehead. “Oh listen to me, I’m talking like them now.”

  “Who?”

  “Texans.” Mariah laughed. “I learned how to fit in so well, I’ve picked up their speech.”

  “You are not a Texan?”

  “Well, I was born here, but raised in Chicago. Acclimating was a bit of an adjustment at first.”

  “What does the expression ‘ate up’ mean?”

  “Consumed. The raising and showing of cutting horses consumes this town. As I said, you’ll see for yourself soon enough and then the next thing you know you’ll be talking like them too.”

  “This is good.” Annie hugged herself. “I am ate up with happiness.”

  Mariah laughed. “You’re very easy to please.”

  “ ‘Life is a grand adventure or it is nothing at all.’ ”

  “Helen Keller, right?”

  “Yes.” Annie smiled. Mariah was sharp. “Yes, Helen Keller.”

  “Where have you been living?” Mariah untangled her son’s fist from her hair. “Scratch that. It’s none of my business.”

  “Scratch that?” Annie did not understand the expression.

  “Forget I asked the question.”

  “Oh yes, of course.”

  Mariah canted her head and studied Annie so long that she started to worry she had egg on her face or that somehow Mariah had recognized her in spite of her close-cropped hair dyed black. “How long have you known Brady?”

  “We met last night.”

  “Where at?”

  “A place called Toad’s Big Rigs.”

  “A truck stop. You met at a truck stop?”

  “We did. Is that bad?”

  “Nooo. It’s as good a place as any to meet, I suppose.”


  “We had chili. It was quite good, but not cold at all.”

  “Brady ate truck stop chili?” Mariah sounded shocked.

  “He doesn’t eat truck stop chili?”

  Mariah shook her head. “It’s one of his unbreakable rules.”

  “Unbreakable rules?”

  “Brady’s got a code he lives by. To avoid complications.”

  “A code.” Annie clapped her hands. “I like a man with a code.”

  Mariah looked at her funny.

  You have to tone it down. Try a little better to fit in. You are going to start raising suspicion. You have said too much. Gone over the edge. If you want to fit in, speak less, observe more. You are good at observing and keeping quiet.

  It dawned on Annie that the reason she never spoke up to her father, had never really made herself heard or her needs known was that she had always felt as if she was not royalty material. That if she upset the applecart he would send her away. Even before her mother had died, Annie had felt this way. She could not even say why. Perhaps it was the high expectations placed on her. Expectations she seemed incapable of living up to. Maybe that was why she already liked it here so much. No one expected anything from her.

  Mariah led her down the short, narrow hallway, opened the door to the single bedroom. “It’s only got a twin bed. I hope that’ll do. I’ll send Ruby over to freshen the place up for you.”

  “No, no. I want to do it.”

  Mariah gave her another odd look. “Okay.”

  “Thank you,” Annie said. “Thank you so much for giving me a job and a place to stay. I am forever in your debt.”

  “You’re welcome,” Mariah said, then paused. “Word to the wise, when it comes to Brady, be careful.”

  Uneasy goose bumps raised on her forearms. Was Mariah going to tell her something scary about Brady? “Careful?”

  “He’s one of those easygoing guys and he makes you think troubles just roll off his back. He’s an optimist, with an infectious laugh, quick metabolism, and a big heart even though he won’t admit it. He’s been hurt a lot in the past and he won’t admit that either. And the reason he hates people who keep secrets is because he’s got a few of his own that he’s pretty ashamed of.”

  “Are you warning me off?”

  “Nope,” Mariah said cheerfully, laying a firm hand on her shoulder and giving off whiffs of baby oil, applesauce, and scrambled eggs, a smell that announced, I’m a mom. “This is a promise. You hurt Brady and you’re going to have to answer to the whole town of Jubilee.”

  “I would never hurt Brady. It is not my intention to hurt him. I know he is a good man. The last thing I want is to hurt him.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” Mariah said. “But I had to put that out there. Just in case.”

  Mariah rattled her, but Annie shook it off. She envied Brady that he had friends who loved him so much that they worried about his choice in women. And in spite of the fact that Mariah had basically threatened her if she hurt Brady, she really liked the woman.

  Jonah fussed and yanked at his mother’s ponytail again.

  “What is it, tiny cowboy? Do you have a dirty diaper?” Mariah put her nose to the backside of his elastic-waisted denim pants. “Phew! My stinky boy.”

  This motherhood business had an unsavory side. Then again, so did pet ownership. Messiness and love seemed to go hand in hand.

  “Tell you what,” Mariah said, “let me get this little guy cleaned up and turned over to Ruby, then I’ll take you with me into Jubilee. My crew and I have got a wedding here on the ranch at six this evening and there’s the usual last-minute rush, but if you want to hang out in the background, you’re more than welcome to see what my Saturdays are like.”

  “I would love that,” Annie said. “I just need to check on my dog first. She is locked up in Brady’s trailer.”

  “Hey, leave her in the house with Ruby. She loves dogs as much as she loves kids.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. The more the merrier.”

  Annie smiled. Even though she did not have any definitive plans, everything seemed to be unfolding organically. In just over twelve hours from the time she had given her handlers the slip, she had hitched a ride with a handsome cowboy, almost lost her virginity, landed a job, and acquired a place to live. It seemed too easy. And that was sort of taking the fun out of it.

  If Rosalind were here, she’d say, Never trust what comes too easily. There is always a catch.

  Rosalind.

  Oh goodness. She had forgotten to call Rosalind.

  Chapter Seven

  You might be a princess if . . . you’re from a land far, far away.

  “So,” Joe said as he and Brady walked to the horse barn after Mariah took Annie to the cabin. “Annie Coste.”

  “Gorgeous morning.” Brady took a deep breath of fresh air, inhaled his favorite scent—horses.

  “Who is she?”

  “It’s good to be back in Jubilee. Didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

  “You’ve never brought a woman around to meet us. What’s special about this one?”

  “Did I mention how darn good it was to see you again?”

  “You’re bordering on keeping a secret, Talmadge.”

  Joe knew how to get to him. Apparently, his buddy wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “I gave her a ride last night. End of story.”

  “No, oh no. Please don’t tell me that you picked up a hitchhiker.”

  Brady shrugged. “Tell me about Miracle. What happened to your prizewinning horse?”

  “After what happened to you four years ago, I can’t believe you picked up a hitchhiker.”

  “I’m here to help Miracle, not talk about my stupidity.”

  “You broke two of your own rules. Never pick up a hitchhiker and avoid damsels in distress. How did this happen?”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Brady mumbled, thinking of all the rules he’d broken. Dammit, why had he told Joe about his unbreakable rules?

  Um, because you were sharing whiskey shots during Dutch Callahan’s wake. Drunken grief. Common mistake.

  “Excuse me?” Joe cupped a hand around his ear.

  “I said I’m sorry to hear about Miracle.”

  That got Joe away from the topic of Brady’s foolish rule breaking. “Yeah.” His voice cracked and his eyes clouded with pain and remorse. “All my hopes are pinned on you. I’m at the end of my rope. The vets threw up their hands. They’d doctored his wounds. He healed physically, but mentally? Nothing’s worked. If Dutch were alive . . .” He paused, and then went on to tell Brady in specific detail all the techniques they had tried on the horse.

  “I’ll do the best I can. Miracle is a special horse. He’s got the spirit to pull through.”

  Joe opened the barn door. They walked inside and Joe escorted him to a dark stall at the back. “I keep him out of the light. It calms him.”

  The minute Brady touched the stall door, he felt the prizewinning quarter horse’s pain. Miracle was backed in hard against the far wall, trembling like a newborn foal.

  “It breaks . . . my heart.” Joe’s words came out cobbled, clotted.

  “Tell me again what happened,” Brady murmured, studying the once beautiful animal through the slates in the stall. Miracle’s eyes were wide, fearful. His neck was nicked with scars. Brady’s own heart ached for what the stallion had gone through. He could see trauma in his eyes.

  “It’s been almost four months now,” Joe said. “I thought he would get better with time, but he’s more isolated than ever.”

  “Tell me about that night.” Brady knew this was tough for his buddy to talk about, but if he was going to help Miracle, he had to know everything.

  “We were coming back from a futurity. Cordy and I,” Joe said, referring to his ranch foreman. Joe hauled in an audible breath, rested his arms on the bar of the stall, rested his chin on his arms, and gazed regretfully at Miracle.

  The cutting horse had onc
e belonged to their mentor, Dutch Callahan. Before Dutch died, he traded Joe the stallion for the small section of Green Ridge Ranch where the old ranch hand cabin stood. Mariah had inherited Dutch’s land, and that’s how she and Joe had met. That same year Miracle had gone on to win a four-hundred-thousand-dollar purse in the Triple Crown Futurity in Fort Worth.

  “This was in February?”

  “Valentine’s Day. I was driving too fast, hurrying home to Mariah. I had a special evening all planned—” Joe broke off.

  “Best-laid plans.” Brady shook his head.

  “It had started to sleet. I hit a patch of black ice and it was all over. The truck skidded and the trailer jackknifed. The next thing I knew we were on our side in the ditch. Cordy and I were trapped. We couldn’t get out of the truck, but we could hear Miracle in the back screaming in pain. It was the most awful, gut-wrenching sound I’ve ever heard.” Joe shuddered.

  Brady made sympathetic noises. He knew what a tormented horse sounded like.

  “I had a concussion and I kept blacking out. Cordy had a broken arm. Nobody came by on the road. Damn weather had kept everyone indoors. We couldn’t find our cell phones. We were there for hours.” He gritted his teeth. “Finally an old farmer came by. He called 911. The rescue squad showed up pretty quickly after that, but the firemen insisted on getting us out first. By the time we were freed and ran back to the trailer, we couldn’t get the doors open. Miracle was wild, kicking, thrashing, and crying out in pain. It was the most horrible thing I ever witnessed save for when Lee Turpin burned down my barn and Clover died saving the horses.”

  That had been a dark day for Jubilee. Brady hadn’t been in town when it had happened, but he’d admired and respected Clover Dempsey, and her loss had been almost as acute as Dutch Callahan’s. Clover had been like a second mother to him.

  “The firemen went to work on the trailer but it still took them another half hour to free Miracle.”

  “What happened to him physically?” Brady asked, his gaze never leaving the horse, who was pressed as close to the far wall as he could get, keeping his face turned away from them.

  “No broken bones, thank God. He had torn ligaments in two knees and he was cut up pretty badly, but he’s been skittish as hell ever since. Whenever we try to saddle him, he goes crazy, bucking and biting, eyes rolling wild. I can’t do anything to reassure him or make him better. I feel like I failed him on the most basic level. I didn’t keep him safe. It—” Joe broke off.