His Favorite Cowgirl (Glades County Cowboys Book 2)

by Leigh Duncan

  “It’s no secret Pops has been acting stranger than normal lately. He ran up charges all over town. Pretty much let the ranch fall into ruin. All the ranch hands either quit or left on their own. If I hadn’t paid the property tax, we’d have lost the place altogether.”

  Ty whistled. “I knew the old man was slipping. But I had no idea things had gotten so bad.”

  “Nobody did.” She waved a hand through the air to let Ty know she didn’t blame him. “It took me a while to figure out what happened. But after talking with Pops’s doctors, I realized this wasn’t his first stroke. The tests showed he’d had a series of small ones. I think the doctors called ’em TIAs. Over time, the damage adds up. It probably explains why he’s been acting the way he has.”

  She leaned into her chair, crossed one booted foot over the other. “The upshot is, I need the money I’ll clear by selling the herd.”

  Some of the stiffness eased out of Ty’s shoulders. “I’m glad you’re not selling out just for me. But let’s think about this a minute. If you hang on to them till winter, your cattle will bring a better price.”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid Pops let things go too far. The pastures need weed kill and fertilizer I can’t afford. Besides, I have to put the ranch on the market.”

  “So, you’re really letting go of your heritage?” Ty’s gaze drifted to the window overlooking land that had been in his family for more than four generations.

  Kelly took a minute. Ever since she’d come back to the Bar X, she’d made a habit of carrying her coffee out to the front porch each morning. Soaking in the peace and quiet while the sun rose in the east, watching the brilliant gold clouds gradually turning pink and then white as the sun rose higher in the huge sky—it was the best part of the day. She loved hearing the distant mrrruuh from the cattle, the first bird calls of the day. This morning, she’d gawked at a family of deer that had wandered across the lawn while she’d sat, sipping.

  The Bar X had been in her family nearly as long as there’d been settlers in Florida. So, yeah, she wished she could hang on to it. But, as her grandfather’s only asset, it wasn’t hers to keep. She had to sell the land to pay for his care. A shudder passed through her.

  “Don’t have much choice,” she admitted slowly. “I emptied my savings account to pay the tax bill. Can’t get a mortgage. The banks won’t lend money to a long-distance rancher with no track record. Medical bills are already starting to mount. I have to sell.”

  “Sounds like you’ve given this considerable thought.” Ty tapped a pencil against his desk. “What can I do to help?”

  Here came the tricky part, the part that left her beholden to a neighbor. “Once Hank finds a buyer for the herd, I’m going to need some help rounding up the cattle. If you could see your way clear to lending me your crew when the time comes—at a fair price, of course—I’d sure appreciate it.”

  “A roundup?” Ty swiveled to stare at a large wall calendar crowded with notes and appointments. He frowned.

  Kelly slumped in her chair, certain she had asked too much of her childhood friend.

  “Assuming we do this soon, I can free up some of the crew,” Ty said at last. His gaze softened as he turned to her. “But keep your money in your pocket. It’s no good here.”

  Being neighborly was one thing, but she wouldn’t accept the man’s charity. “Nothing?” Kelly straightened, bristling. “I insist on paying a fair price.”

  Ty held up a hand. “It’s good to see you’ve inherited some of your grandfather’s spirit,” he said, his brown eyes serious. “Look, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Not entirely.” He propped his chin in one hand. “I can’t tell you how tired I am of shelling out good money on a pregnant heifer, only to have her drop a mixed-breed calf I end up selling for a loss.”

  Another rancher might not care so much about preserving the bloodlines of his cattle. But the Parkers’ herd traced its lineage to the cows that arrived with the first Spanish explorers. Still, Ty’s offer was far too generous. Her grandfather would tan her hide if she accepted help she couldn’t pay for. Then again, hadn’t she come to the Circle P in part to put an end to the tension between the ranches?

  She rose to her feet, her hand extended. “I’m much obliged, Ty,” she said, swallowing her pride. “You or anyone on the Circle P need a new pair of boots, let me know. I’ll make you a deal you can’t refuse.”

  Her hand in Ty’s warm grip, they shook, putting an end to a feud that had lasted longer than either of them could remember.

  As she started to leave, the door behind her creaked open. A breath of fresh hay and spice wafted into the room. A warm feeling spread through her before Ty’s focus even swung from her to the new arrival.

  “Hope you don’t mind my interrupting, but as long as you’re both here,” came the voice that haunted her dreams at night. “I just got off the phone with the new owner of the Barlowe place.”

  Kelly smiled. The locals would refer to the ranch as the Barlowe place until they decided the new owners were staying put. In, say, a generation or two.

  “He’s looking to get into the cattle business and jumped at the chance to buy your whole herd, Kelly. Offered to match the market price. Best part is, he doesn’t mind if the cows are a bit on the scrawny side. He’s got plenty of good grass, and isn’t in any hurry to send ’em to market.”

  The news was almost too good to be true, and one glance into Hank’s blue eyes told her there was a catch. “But...?” she asked.

  “But he needs to take delivery by a week from Sunday. I can’t find anyone to haul them on such short notice. So...” Hank glanced at Ty.

  “So we’ll have to have a cattle drive,” the two men said in unison. They stared at her, their faces filled with eager anticipation.

  Kelly pictured herself riding by Hank’s side on a two-day cattle drive over Florida’s pristine countryside. Her heart thrilled to the idea of long days in the saddle, sharing picnic lunches in the shade of tall pines. Of sleeping under the stars with only the lowing cattle and the soft scurry of night critters to break the silence. It sounded like a little slice of heaven, a fitting way to end her time on the ranch. Except...

  Her gaze shifted away from Ty. Her pulse ratcheted upward when she thought of sitting beside Hank at the campfire each night. Of the thin canvas tents they’d sleep in. The tents with walls that couldn’t keep out a mosquito, much less separate two people who were as drawn to each other as they were. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed.

  “I’m in,” she said, not at all sure she was strong enough to resist slipping into Hank’s arms once they were alone in the wilderness.

  Chapter Seven

  From his seat atop Star, Hank studied the buzzards that looped in lazy circles over the pond. His gaze dropped to the wide-eyed calf that had wandered into trouble and now stood, mired in muck, twenty feet from shore. Sammy barked at the weaner, his four paws planted at the water’s edge. The cow dog spun, chased his tail and yipped again. The calf strained at the rope, but didn’t budge. The little one’s mother could probably tempt her baby out of the water, but Hank scanned the endless stretch of patchy grass beyond the pond without spotting her.

  Not that he’d exactly call a hundred-pound calf “little.”

  He tipped his hat, mopped sweat from his brow. Leave it to him to be on his own when he found a Brahman stuck in a mudhole. He hadn’t planned it this way. No, when he’d pictured how his day might go, he’d imagined Kelly at his side. They’d talk while they flushed cattle from their hiding spots in the bushes. With the cow dogs’ help, they’d herd the stragglers toward the southern-most pasture on the Bar X in preparation for a weekend cattle drive. If he was lucky, he’d steal a kiss or two from Kelly along the way.

  But not a single light had glowed from the windows of the Bar X when he and his crew had ridden through t
hat morning. More disappointed than he had any right to be, he’d barked orders at the ranch hands like an old cow dog. The first chance they’d gotten, the boys had put as much distance between him and them as possible. They’d headed in different directions, each intent on scouring every copse for silver-sided cows. Which had left him alone to deal with a calf that had gotten itself into a jam.

  Slowly, Hank backed Star another step. The rope grew taut. The horse’s bridle jangled. The noose around the calf’s neck tightened a skosh but, legs splayed, the young one stood his ground in the murky water.

  “Damn.” There was nothing else to do but go in after the weaner. For a half second, Hank considered moving on without her, but he couldn’t leave her where she was. Sooner or later, the calf would tire and drown. That was, if the gators didn’t finish her off first.

  He studied the clumps of algae without spotting a single pair of eyes staring back at him from the surface. Which didn’t mean sloshing into the pond was a good idea. Gators held their breath for hours when they wanted to. A big one could be lying on the bottom, still as a log, waiting for the right moment to strike. Hank scoured the muddy slope down to the water. The tension in his shoulders eased a bit when all he saw were the tracks of small animals. Grumbling about the general stupidity of calves, he dismounted.

  He let loose a few choice words as he waded well past the point where silty water rushed over the tops of his boots. The late-summer sun would dry his clothes. His boots, though, were an entirely different matter. After a plunge in the pond, they’d be a soggy mess for the rest of the day. Yet he knew better than to remove them. They did, after all, offer some protection against things that slithered around in the muck. And things with big teeth.

  “Hey now, baby girl. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you out of here. Easy does it.”

  Reaching the calf, Hank patted its head. He waited until it stopped bawling before, muscles straining, he lifted it free of the muck. The calf in his arms, he sloshed through the thigh-high water to the shore, where he carefully lowered the youngster. Exhausted after spending who knew how long in the water, the calf stood on trembling legs. Hank’s heart thudded. The corners of his mouth lifted. He glanced down at himself. Above the waist, he was a sweat-soaked mess. Below his belt, mud and pond scum dripped from his Wranglers. His socks squished inside his boots. His chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath of sun-kissed air.

  This, he told himself, this was what he was made for. Ranching ran in his blood, as sure as it had in his father’s and his father’s before him. Selling real estate had its good points, no doubt. But rescuing a tiny calf from a watery grave gave him more pure enjoyment than he’d ever gotten from closing a deal or banking a commission check.

  “Aw, if only I could make a living at it, I’d stay,” he muttered to the calf, which hadn’t run off as he’d expected. Suspecting the poor thing would never make the long walk to join the rest of the herd, Hank re-coiled his rope. He looped it over Star’s pommel. A minute later, his muscles sang as he lifted the calf onto the horse and climbed on behind it. His arms filled with the bawling heifer, he clucked to Star.

  “There, there,” he murmured, stroking the short gray spikes atop the calf’s head. “We’ll get you to your mama soon enough.”

  He whistled to the dog, which lay in the shade of the one palmetto bush within shouting distance. Sammy sprang to his feet. Tail wagging, he trotted closer, only to plop down on his rear and whine. Canting his head, he stared up through intelligent brown eyes.

  “Yeah, I hear ya. Calves ain’t supposed to be up here. So sue me.” Hank touched his heels to Star’s sides.

  Sammy fell in alongside as the big gelding moved forward. A fifteen-minute ride took them to the field where Hank had opened another tube of silage to supplement grass the gathering herd would certainly overgraze in a matter of days. The calf stirred, anxious to find its mother, and he gently lowered the baby to the ground. He grinned as it frolicked off, apparently fully recovered from its recent dunking.

  Wishing he could say the same for himself, he brushed a mix of muck and slime from his jeans. He chose a spot beneath a lone tree, where he toed off his boots. Sure enough, water gurgled out when he upended them. He settled for wringing his socks as dry as he could get them before he stepped into the leather, which would no doubt never be the same again.

  A breeze whispered through the branches overhead. A motor rumbled in the distance, and Hank smiled at the sight of an ATV cutting through the tall grass. Leaving Star to fend for himself, he strolled over as Kelly stepped from the vehicle.

  “Missed ya this morning.” He touched the brim of his work Stetson.

  Kelly nodded. “The rehab center called a little after two. Pops had a bad night, but he finally settled down.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Hank’s heart lurched when she ran a hand over her face. Despite missing a night’s sleep, she looked a sight better than he did at the moment.

  “What ya got there?” he asked, just as she bent into the little truck bed. He gave up the fight and ran his gaze over a figure that curved in all the right spots. The woman could rock a pair of Wranglers and boots, he’d give her that much.

  “Thought you and the boys might like a treat. It’s not much, just store-bought.”

  A hunger for something sweet flared within him when Kelly held up trays loaded with what looked like the entire bakery section of the local market. Only, what he wanted wasn’t made of sugar and flour. To give his hands something to do besides reaching for Kelly, he grabbed the walkie-talkie he’d stuffed into Star’s saddle bag. He keyed the rest of the crew.

  “Break time, boys. Meet us under the shade tree. Miss Kelly’s brought snacks.”

  He waited as, one by one, the hands responded. By the time the last one reported in, he spied three of the riders cutting across the flat prairie.

  Hank lowered himself onto the bottom step of the ATV. “You got any liquid soap? I’m not sure I should handle food with these.” He held up his grimy hands.

  “I’ll fix you right up.”

  When Kelly reached beneath the front seat, unearthing an industrial-size bottle of hand sanitizer, Hank bid a wistful goodbye to a pleasant fantasy that started with licking chocolate frosting from her fingers and led who knew where. Steady there, he told himself as she squirted gel into his palms. He and the slim blonde might have been lovers once upon a time, but that was long ago. For now, they’d settled on being friends.

  Was that the kind that came with or without benefits?

  For good or for bad, there was no time to find out. The first of the crew arrived, dismounted and gathered around. Hank shot Kelly a wide grin as she was all but trampled in the stampede to the back of the ATV.

  “You’d think they hadn’t eaten in days, but they polished off their bag lunches less than an hour ago. Honest,” he whispered while the boys wiped out a big supply of cookies, brownies and donuts. A chorus of polite “Thank you, ma’ams” soon filled the air. As quickly as they had come, all but one re-mounted their horses and headed back to work. Hank’s chest tightened. Keeping his distance from Kelly would be so much easier once she jumped in the ATV and headed back to the house. But it was only neighborly to see her off, wasn’t it?

  He swung into Star’s saddle again. From a safe distance he stared down at the woman who stirred more inside him than he liked to admit.

  “Want to ride with me?” He bit his lip, but it was too late. The words already floated in the air.

  “Only one problem, cowboy.” Kelly’s teasing green eyes smiled at him. “I don’t have a horse.”

  “Josh.” Hank turned toward a ranch hand who lingered at the back of the ATV. “How’d you like to take Ms. Kelly’s four-wheeler and scout the trail to the Barlowe place this afternoon?” According to the notes Colt had left, the kid was something of an ornithologist. “I hear Barlowe
spotted some kind of rare sparrow down near the Glades. You might want to check that out on your way back.”

  “A Cape Sables?” Josh asked. A ray of pure sunshine broke across the young cowpoke’s face. He hurried to his horse like a man who feared the boss might change his mind. “Let me get my glasses.”

  Binoculars in hand, he passed the reins to Kelly. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, leave Storm here in the corral when you get to the house. I’ll swap the four-wheeler for him on my way back.”

  Hank pulled his feet out of the stirrups, suddenly restless as the teen rode off. At Josh’s age, he’d still been floundering around, uncertain about much of anything except that both his marriage and his rodeo career had hit the skids. He wondered if the kid realized how lucky he was to find a way to combine his passion for birds with a job he liked.

  Will I ever get that lucky? he asked himself, while he waited for Kelly to join him.

  When she did, he turned away from his problems and clucked to Star. With Kelly riding beside him, they headed for a portion of the pasture he hadn’t yet scoured for cows. On the way, he tried out a couple of conversation starters. Rehashing the past seemed like a surefire way to ruin the day. As for why they couldn’t try again, he already knew the answer to that one. She was chomping at the bit to get back to Houston.

  “You get to ride much in Texas?”

  Kelly squared herself on the saddle. “Believe it or not, I mostly travel from my apartment to my car, or from my car to an office, where I push far more paper than I shovel hay. I hadn’t been on horseback in ages till I came ho—” she hesitated “—till I came back here. I’d forgotten how much I love all this.” She swept a hand through the air. “Being outside, tending to the livestock.”