Taming His Cowgirl (The Crooked Creek Ranch Book 1)

by Delta James

  He was more than ready, willing, and able to move into the aftercare portion of a punishment spanking. Ryder helped her up. As she stood between his legs, he ran his hands under her shirt, squeezing her breasts and pinching her stiffened nipples. He grinned; Sierra was as horny as he was. What had started out to be the worst night of his life was turning into one that he thought would prove to be one of the most epic. Feeling very masculine and dominant, Ryder leaned back, cupping her head to bring it down to his to thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. He was focused on kissing her and playing with her nipples. He wanted her begging for his forgiveness and begging him to mount her and fuck her long and hard.

  He never expected her to bite down on his tongue and draw blood. When he yelped and released her, she balled up her fist and punched him in the nose. Ryder was stunned, both emotionally and physically. By the time he’d recovered, Sierra had retreated to the gun cabinet, grabbed and loaded the antique shotgun, and leveled it at him once again.

  “Get out and don’t ever come back. If you ever tell anyone what happened tonight, I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to the stock dogs.”

  “Sierra …” The cocking of the hammer on the shotgun silenced him.

  “Get. Out.” Her voice was devoid of emotion and she enunciated each word carefully.

  Ryder had tried over the next few days to get her to talk to him. He’d called, emailed, texted, and instant messaged and got nothing in return. The longer she’d been silent, the more incensed he became. How dare she not believe him? How dare she not even give him a chance to explain?

  The longer the silence between them had grown, the more entrenched each became in his or her position. Within the week, Ryder had placed her ring in the family safe and taken a job with one of the Professional Rodeo Association’s best stock providers.

  Chapter Three

  Three years ago

  Ryder stood watching the opening ceremony for EquiBlues in St. Agreve, France. Five years ago when his relationship and impending marriage to Sierra Morgan imploded, he’d left Idaho and called a friend who was a livestock supplier to the Professional Rodeo Association. The friend had given him a job on the road overseeing the transportation, care, and usage of the broncs and bulls at the larger rodeos throughout the United States and Canada.

  Ryder had started at the bottom and worked his way up. The man to whom he had answered at first was good at his job… when he was sober. Staying sober had become more and more difficult. When it became obvious that he needed to step down, Ryder was given the job. For the next year he proved himself to be the ‘go to’ man of the operation. Nothing fazed Ryder, be it a colicky bronc or a higher-than-a-kite bull rider. Both were handled with compassion and professionalism.

  Three and a half years ago at the conclusion of arguably the largest rodeo in the world, the Calgary Stampede, Ryder was supervising the loading of some of the stock that could be moved out of Calgary to head either toward the next rodeo or back home for some rest. The outfit Ryder worked for took excellent care of their livestock. The animals’ welfare was always paramount. They would work a rodeo or two, maybe three, and then be sent back home for a break. Part of Ryder’s job was to ensure that no horse or bull was ever pushed to the point it might incur an injury.

  Two men approached Ryder accompanied by one of the rodeo clowns or bullfighters. These intrepid souls were responsible for distracting bucking bulls when a cowboy had either been bucked off or was hung up in the rigging so that the cowboy could be taken out of harm’s way.

  “Luc,” Ryder said, stepping forward and extending his hand to the bullfighter. “Nice job the other day with Deadshot. I understand the two of you have quite the social media following.”

  The clown laughed. “We do have an odd relationship,” he said in his heavily French-accented voice. Luc hailed from Quebec, the province in Canada that had retained its French heritage and listed French as its official language.

  Odd relationship was putting it mildly. The big black bull had an impressive record; less than one percent of the cowboys who ever swung a leg over his back were able to complete the eight-second ride. When one of the cowboys he tossed off with casual aplomb ended up underneath the eighteen-hundred-pound bull, Luc hadn’t hesitated to swat at the bull to distract him. What had caught the interest and imagination of everyone present was the big bull’s reaction. As was typical, the massive beast whirled toward the irritant. What happened next was anything but typical.

  Deadshot had just stopped moving. He’d tilted his head side to side and watched Luc intently. One of the other clowns was able to release the bucking strap and free the hung-up cowboy. As it hit the ground, Deadshot had walked toward Luc in a completely nonaggressive manner. Luc had responded by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slice of apple. Luc walked forward and offered the apple to Deadshot, who gently took it out of his hand. Fascinated by the unusual spectacle before them, the crowd and all the rodeo participants had gone absolutely quiet.

  Luc took out another apple slice and again the big bull deftly took the offered treat. Luc patted him on the head between his horns and ran his hand down between the bull’s big brown eyes and rubbed him. Deadshot had closed his eyes and responded by moaning. Then Luc did something no bullfighter ever does; he turned his back on Deadshot.

  “Come on, big boy, let’s go back to the pens,” Luc had said as he walked toward the exit gate. Deadshot had fallen in behind him and calmly followed Luc back to the pens where the animals were held when not competing. Luc had given him a last piece of apple and then returned to the arena to the roar of the crowd.

  The downside was that from that point on, Luc could not be in the arena if Deadshot was performing. Once the big bull spotted the rodeo clown, he’d quit bucking and trot over to him looking for a piece of apple. The upside? All Luc had to do was show up and Deadshot became a big pet and the crowds were entranced.

  Luc introduced the two gentlemen with him. It became obvious why they had brought Luc with them as neither gentleman spoke any English. Luc interpreted for them. Their proposition had been simple. They wanted Ryder to come to France and restructure the EquiBlues rodeo and music festival. Specifically, they wanted him to get better livestock, to manage both them and the rodeo itself, and to attract better cowboys to come compete.

  For Ryder, who spoke passable high-school French, it was an opportunity too good to pass up. He’d given notice and less than a month later boarded a flight to France. He’d found a small stone cottage on the outskirts of St. Agreve, where the rodeo and music festival was held. Ryder had put himself to work and had accomplished all of the goals his employers had set for him. They paid him very well and the bonus structure of his compensation package had made him moderately wealthy.

  Fast forward to a year ago when his assistant and sometime lover, Celene, had found him by the chutes. She’d sought him out saying there was an older American cowboy who was insistent on seeing him. Ryder had been a bit annoyed as the rodeo was set to open in a few days and his spare time was nonexistent. He’d left Celene to supervise the setup and gone to find the older gentleman.

  “Ryder? It’s good to see you, boy.”

  Ryder had been shocked to see none other than John Morgan standing in front of him. The old man hadn’t changed a bit. He still looked like a Randolph Scott knockoff—tall, rugged, and craggy.

  Ryder extended his hand and was relieved when John took it. “John? You’re the last person I ever expected to see here in France. Is Sierra with you?”

  “No, son, she isn’t. She doesn’t know I’m here. Hell, I don’t think she knows I even have a passport. I need to talk to you, Ryder. I can see you’re busy, but I don’t have a lot of time and it’s important. Indulge an old friend of your father’s and make a bit of time for me?”

  Ryder was surprised at the almost pleading tone of John’s request. He couldn’t recall ever hearing John Morgan ask for anything. The old man issued orders and they were followed. Whatever
it was, Ryder figured it had to be extremely important.

  “Of course, John. Can you join me for dinner?”

  “Thank you, son. I appreciate it.”

  “I’ll have Celene, the girl you met earlier, set something up and get you the information. I really would like to catch up, but I’m right in the middle of something. So let me go get finished and then we’ll have dinner. I’ll be able to give you as much time as you need.”

  “That Celene… the two of you involved?”

  Ryder smiled. “No. We’re more friends with benefits.”

  “Good. Good,” John had said quietly. “You tell your friend I’ll be sitting over by the warm-up arena under that tree. Pretty little town.”

  Ryder nodded. “It is.” He watched John turn to go and thought he detected a small hitch in his step. “John?” The old man turned to look at him. “How’s Sierra?”

  John had allowed a small smile to form. “She’s Sierra—still wearing red boots, saving mustangs, and making sure the Flying M will continue to thrive.” He said nothing more and walked on.

  Ryder had returned to his duties and asked that Celene set something up and clear his schedule for that evening. Celene had arranged for one of the catering companies to set up the dinner at Ryder’s home. She figured they’d have privacy and Ryder would already be home if the two men stayed up too late, drank too much or both.

  Ryder got home about an hour before John was due to show up. He got cleaned up and made sure the cottage was in presentable shape. Thanks to Celene it was. Ryder heard the car drive up and watched with amusement as John Morgan had unfolded his tall frame out of the small French car. Ryder came out of the door and greeted John as he came down the walk.

  “John, it really is good to see you. The food is ready and we can eat when we want. Can I get you a drink?”

  “No, thanks, Ryder. I’ve had some of that weasel piss they call whiskey in this new country of yours.”

  Ryder laughed. “Like I said, can I get you a drink? I have good Kentucky bourbon imported on a regular basis. Costs the earth, but when I want a sip of home, it really hits the spot.”

  “Well then, son, lead on.”

  Ryder was surprised that things didn’t feel more awkward. When he’d left, he hadn’t spoken to anyone… including Sierra. The two of them had had an enormous fight and he’d decided the best way to handle it was to leave and let himself be cast as the bad guy.

  The two men enjoyed whiskey and some appetizers out on the patio area behind the cottage. It was one of Ryder’s favorite places. The view behind the cottage was spectacular—unspoiled pastures and rolling hills. This place had helped to soothe and heal him. They enjoyed dinner and talked of nothing consequential.

  “Well, John, to say I was surprised to see you this afternoon would be putting it mildly. I can’t imagine you flew to France to just have dinner and a little chat.”

  John chuckled. “One of the things I always liked about you, Ryder, was that you speak your mind and don’t beat around the bush. I know that what most people think happened was all on you.”

  “It wasn’t what it appeared to be.”

  “I know that. It took a while for Sierra to tell me about finding you and Debbie in the barn. I have to say it’s a good thing you weren’t where I could find you when she told me. I wanted to kill you for breaking her heart.”

  “As I said, John, it wasn’t what she thinks.”

  “I figured that out. The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make any sense to me. Everybody knows that Sierra was in love with you from the time she was a little girl…” He held up his hand to ward off Ryder’s interruption. “And even though you let your daddy and me think you were just going along with the plans of a couple of scheming old ranchers, I figured you loved her too. So the more I thought about it, I just couldn’t see you doing that. So I tracked down Debbie a couple of months ago and she told me everything. Met her little boy and her husband. Nice family. Both Debbie and her husband had nothing but good things to say about you. Debbie offered to talk to Sierra. She told me she’d always been willing but you wouldn’t let her.”

  “No one needed to know her son was illegitimate…”

  “I agree. I really respect that you wanted to protect her. But then I couldn’t figure out why you didn’t just explain everything to Sierra and let Debbie back you up. And that’s when I realized, you’d been in love with my little girl all along. Her not trusting you had to cut you to the quick. Your hurt and pride got the best of you and you left.”

  Ryder didn’t respond at first and then said with a far more calmer tone than he was feeling, “What’s your point, John? Why are you here?”

  “This friend with benefits—do you have feelings for her?”

  “Not the kind you build a life on.”

  “You still love my little girl?”

  Ryder considered lying to the man. He didn’t like to think about Sierra. Her refusal to even listen to him had wounded him deeply. Scar tissue might have formed over the hurt, but it had never truly healed. Instead, he looked him in the eye and said quietly, “Yes, John. I do.”

  “You have no idea what a relief that is to hear. Were you ever planning to do something about those feelings?”

  Ryder chuckled. “Funny you should mention that. Just recently I was driving back from Italy and went through an area that reminded me of home. That led me to thinking about Sierra and I realized I’ve never stopped loving her… and never will. I made the decision that it was time to come home and set things right with her.”

  “Would setting things right with her including coming back into her life?”

  “Cards on the table, John? Yes. Sierra has always been mine. I’ve known since I was a teenager that I would marry Sierra. I was just an idiot and played around while I was waiting for her to grow up. My decision to return included putting my pride and hurt aside to do whatever it takes to make her forgive me. I mean to make things right.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, son. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I always thought the two of you were a good match. And tracking you down, finding out what you’ve been doing, just made me believe it even more. But you’ve got to know, Sierra hasn’t forgiven what she thinks happened. And she’s stubborn and proud. You do know leaving wasn’t the best idea you ever had.”

  “No. I should have made her listen to me. I should have let her throw her tantrum and then made her see reason.”

  John Morgan chuckled. “Any idea how you might have done that?”

  Ryder grinned, looking up at the old man. “Not then, but I do now. With what limited experience I had, I tried, but I obviously didn’t get the job done. I have some ideas of how I can put things right… most of which I’m not sure you’d like when applied to your daughter.”

  “If they include, what is it they’re calling it these days? Oh, yes, taking her in hand… then you’d be wrong. Sierra is her mama’s daughter, and I always found a well applied hand to her backside helped her to make the right decision.”

  Ryder laughed out loud. “You might have told me that five years ago.”

  John laughed with him. “I meant to do that, but then the whole thing blew up and you weren’t around. I’m sure glad to hear you’d already planned to come home and I assume that making things right means making my little girl your wife.”

  Ryder grinned and nodded. “It does.” Ryder saw the relief in the old man’s face and realized there was something else behind John Morgan’s trip to France. “What is it, John? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m dying. Nobody knows except Doc Walker.”

  “John, I’m…”

  “Save it. I’ve lived a good life. Had a lot more blessings than sorrows. The biggest of which is my little girl. The thought of leaving her just tears me up. It’s not that I don’t think she can’t run the ranch, I know she can. But she still loves you. She doesn’t want to admit it, even to herself. She’s dated on and off, but she never
lets anyone get too close. Sometimes I see her looking off in the direction of Crooked Creek and I see a profound sadness there.”

  “How long do you have?”

  “Probably not long enough for you to do all you’re going to need to do. How much do you know about the financial state of your ranch?”

  “Not much. Dad and I don’t talk much and never about business. He resents that I left and he had to do everything himself.”

  “That’s the problem, Ryder, he hasn’t done what he should have been doing. He’s sold off bits and pieces of it. It’s maybe a quarter of the size it used to be. A lot of what’s east of the original homestead has been sold or will be sold down the line to pay his back taxes.”

  “Shit, John. I had no idea.”

  “I figured that. But I have a proposition. Come home. Shore up what’s left of your family’s ranch. Once you’ve got your own house in order, come court Sierra.”

  “That might take a bit of time and a whole lot of doing.”

  John laughed. “Don’t kid yourself, son. That’s going to take a lot of time and a whole helluva lot of doing. And if she can, she won’t have any part of it. That’s where my proposition comes in.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “You get your own ranch squared away and when I die, I’ll set things up so Sierra has to deal with you. I’ll leave the ranch to Sierra, but for the period of a year, you’ll be the executive manager. If she doesn’t accept the terms of my will, the whole damn place goes to the State to be turned into a state park.”

  “I’m not sure I even know how to react. Sierra will never accept my having authority over her and the ranch.”

  “Not willingly. That’s why it was important to me to look you in the eye and find out what you feel for her. I don’t think I’ve got enough time for you to get the job done.” He chuckled. “Although I imagine it’ll be fun to watch. I can, however, set up the circumstances that will give you the best shot at making my little girl happy and seeing that the Flying M continues to be handed down through the family.” John Morgan stood and extended his hand to Ryder. “What do you say, son? You willing to play along with an old man to get the love of your life back?”