“Sorry, I was expecting Ash.”
Her sigh was epic. “Genevieve said that Bodhi scored higher than you in the saddle bronc.”
Ouch.
He refrained from defending himself by reminding her of his two wins today. No doubt her sisters had already informed her of those as well. His mom and two aunts had been harassing them for years to quit the rodeo, grow up, get real jobs, and become men, but they tracked their points and earnings and wins more obsessively than their offspring.
“It’s so like him to enter late in another event that is your specialty just to show off.”
Beck had learned a long time ago to keep his mouth mostly shut.
“I wanted to let you know I will see you at the ranch Tuesday.”
“You’ll what?” He stumbled against the temporary corral fencing. Gallatin stomped his left front hoof, and Beck barely dodged it.
“You could at least pretend to be pleased.” His mother’s cultured tones hardened slightly. “Last I checked, I am still your mother, and you are my only child, Beckett Alexander Morgan Ballantyne.”
Not for the first time did he think his mom should have had more children. Even though she was the CEO of the largest commercial property management company in Denver and was on several charitable boards, she still had too much time to scrutinize his every move.
“But you hate Montana.”
“If you think I’m going to let my sisters woo Daddy to gain more of their share of inheritance, you’re wrong—as you often are.”
“Granddad is still alive.” His teeth clenched. “Spoke to him this morning.”
“You didn’t speak to me this morning.”
True.
Bodhi would have had her laughing. Bowen would never have pissed her off. He felt like his mom barely tolerated him and had lost all patience with him before he entered high school.
“I wasn’t planning to show up on your doorstep for two weeks.”
Wrong thing to say. Of course.
“You should. You are always visiting your granddad, not your mother. And…”
Beck knew exactly what she was going to say next.
“It’s long beyond time you gave up that childish lifestyle and settled down with Ash, if she’s your choice, and get a real job and start a family. You are running down the clock.”
“I just turned twenty-eight. I’m hardly an AARP member.”
“Well, your grandfather is well beyond AARP,” she shot back.
“He’s not even eighty yet.”
“Eighty is ancient. He should be in a condo. Relaxing.”
Beck couldn’t even begin to picture that—the condo or his granddad relaxing.
“Your granddad is getting too old to run that ranch. It’s ridiculous for…” He must have hit the mute with his cheek as he finished with Gallatin and led the horse to his rig. The silence didn’t matter. His mom and aunts regularly railed on about how their father should sell the ranch to a developer or rich celebrity or tech giant and move to Denver so they could watch over him.
His granddad wouldn’t last ten minutes with their fussing and skyscrapers blocking his views.
He rolled his eyes and unmuted the phone. His mom was still talking. He arrived at his trailer.
“Granddad will never sell,” he said firmly. “The ranch has been in the Ballantyne family since long before the railroad arrived in Marietta.”
“Stop drinking that Kool-Aid,” his mom sniped. “He’s too old to be living there alone.”
“He’s not alone. He has ranch hands, and one or all of us are there every break in the tour.”
“He’s barely hanging on,” his mom accused. “Holding out hope that one of you boys will ever think of anyone other than yourselves and settle down on the ranch. Not that I want you to do that,” she hastily tagged on.
Beck opened his mouth, but his mom continued. “You boys need to stop wasting your lives on the rodeo. One of you is going to get hurt and then where will you be? You have an economics degree and a minor in statistics. You’ll totally waste an excellent education if you’re out there riding the range, becoming a broke, broken-down cowboy. It’s absurd, like some spaghetti western movie. It’s time to change the channel.”
Usually he and Ashni laughed over his mom and aunts’ pot shots at their careers. She said her aunties were worse. Beck wasn’t sure about that.
“He needs to sell so none of you waste your lives on his silly dreams. Legacy,” she huffed. “And if he won’t sell it, we will.”
Beck stumbled on the ramp leading into the trailer. Gallatin took advantage and balked, but Beck quickly regained control.
His mom had never sounded this adamant before, and dread trickled through him. His granddad was healthy, wasn’t he? Beck mentally replayed the conversation from this morning and nearly missed his mom’s grand conclusion.
“Anyway, don’t worry,” she said breezily, which made his stomach cramp. “We have everything planned. We’ll see you all on Tuesday. We’ve got a crew coming to spruce up the outside of the house and do some upgrades inside. We’ve also got a list for you boys to knock off for the barn and cabin up on Plum Hill. Dumb name, but the view is decent. We’re going to help Daddy throw the biggest and last Ballantyne Bash, and then we’ll get the ranch on the market.”
“You can’t railroad Granddad,” Beck said even though his mom had one setting: wrecking-ball efficiency. Her way or jump out of her way.
“Sweetie, it’s for the best. Trust me.”
He didn’t. “Text me your flight details. One of us will pick you up.” That was definitely going to require several best out of rock, paper, scissors rounds as neither he, Bowen, nor Bodhi would volunteer for that trip.
“We’ve rented a car. And we have one of those POD things being delivered. This will be for the best for everyone.”
His mom hung up, and Beck stared out of his trailer at the parking lot, which was beginning to clear out as cowboys headed home or to the next rodeo.
Packing up five generations of Ballantyne life was going to take a heck of a lot more than a PODS container. And Beck wasn’t going to let his granddad be pushed in or out of anything without a fight.
Chapter Two
Ashni had enough time to think in the airport. She bought a Starbucks chai and walked the terminal, earbuds in, listening to the soundtrack of Hamilton, which always motivated her. Maybe she was overreacting. She definitely felt overwrought. Why did she want to marry Beck anyway? That burned. She was young, educated, talented, earned good money, had options. She had a master’s in public health as well as a BS in epidemiology and a BA in studio arts. And yet, here she was, waiting, hoping.
Why should she be eager to marry at twenty-nine?
Her elaborate mehndi—the henna tattoo that covered her palms, the backs of her hands and scrolled up her arms—taunted her. She’d always imagined having a big Indian wedding—so many family and friends celebrating her. And they’d add in whatever traditions Beck wanted.
But it was a show—which was probably what appealed to her love of drama and the spectacularly vivid visuals. Beck was private, a bit shy. He’d hate that. He’d do it with a smile on his face, backed by his cousins—Bowen stoic and helpful; Bodhi flip but scrutinizing her with an intensity she’d never understood. And Indian weddings were lavishly expensive.
Beck saved as much money as he could to invest in the ranch. Another goal they’d never talked about. It was just a given. And she’d gone along with it because she loved Beck, and she’d come to love his cousins, granddad and Montana. She liked the smaller towns over cities.
She stopped walking, chai halfway to her lips.
What was her deal? Was she passive? No goals of her own?
Doubt washed over her. Shame.
Since earning her master’s, she’d just started following Beck’s lead. The tour had sounded fun for a year or two—seeing the country. She’d started working in marketing and had really enjoyed it at first. She’d done com
munity outreach and had focused her efforts on children’s hospitals and organizations that supported families in communities where the tour went, and Ashni was proud of the network she’d established.
She wasn’t a buckle bunny looking for a free ride and some fun.
But this year it had all soured.
She’d always figured they would build their lives and she her career once he retired from the tour, but it had been five years now. Traveling was becoming a grind. She wanted a home. A garden. A full kitchen to cook meals. A baby. And when she’d asked about marriage right after Christmas, he’d changed the subject.
And then she’d heard him speculating with Bodhi about being with so many different women—did it feel different when he…? Ashni cut off that train of thought. It still hurt when she thought about it.
Was Beck bored?
He didn’t seem bored. He was just as affectionate, tender, always looking for fun things to do on the road. So what changed?
Me.
I’m bored.
Not with Beck. But with the lifestyle. And she was taking it out on him. She slowly sat down in an available blue chair nowhere near her gate. They wanted different things. He was young and healthy. He could compete for years still unless he got seriously injured. He was younger than his cousins who showed no sign of slowing down. Bowen was nearly three years older. Did she want to be doing this for three more years?
Hell no.
So that was her answer wasn’t it? She noted her hand holding the chai shook, and her detachment spooked her. Time to get a grip. She took a bracing swallow of the sweet, still-hot liquid and closed her eyes, focusing on the silky texture, the taste and heat as she swallowed. She needed to make the changes she wanted and find her own happiness. Stop relying on Beck.
She didn’t want to be one of those women who followed a man blindly, putting him first and never herself and taking out her bitterness on Beck because she’d been too weak to act on her own behalf.
“Okay, no more Miss Passive,” she coached. “Time to start building a life you want.”
Ashni finished her chai, and after a moment of hesitation, got up and bought another. She’d been feeling wonky lately. Not hungry. Nothing sounded appetizing, and yet the chai felt wonderful heating her tummy. Maybe now that the wedding was over and she’d had her bolstering heart-to-heart with herself, her appetite would return.
She took her second chai and walked to her gate, visualizing a game plan. This week would help because she’d be doing something new: teaching the art class. And she’d be in her favorite town in all of America, the town she always thought she and Beck would settle in and raise their children.
She’d have the week to get some things in motion, but she’d need some space from Beck to do so because it would be so easy to fall back into bed and their routine if she didn’t. Ashni did not want to have the same conversation with herself this time next year.
Finals were at the end of next month, and then Beck would have a break to make some choices of his own.
Pick us. Choose me.
Panic swirled through her, and she wished she could call Reeva to talk about everything, but Reeva would be heading off on her honeymoon soon. Ash didn’t want to bother her with her airport anguish.
Since changing her flight, Ashni had another half hour before boarding. She texted Sky Wilder to ask if her cousin-in-law’s Marietta studio apartment on Bramble Lane was still available for the week. Sky had offered it for free since the class didn’t pay, but Ashni had demurred knowing that Beck would want to stay at the ranch.
But now it’s about what I want.
She also texted that she would be flying into Bozeman, not traveling with Beck. Sky said the apartment was open and offered to pick her up so they could chat on the way into town. Ashni happily accepted. She didn’t need a car in Marietta. Everything was so walkable. Even as she wondered how Beck would take her change in plans, she crushed the thought. She had to think about herself and what she wanted now.
She booted up her computer and resolutely crafted a resignation letter to her boss. This was it. The beginning of a new life. She hit send.
There should have been a lighting change. Softer music in a different key, the sound slowly swelling. The chorus softly singing and then the strings working up to her solo, and she’d stand, spotlit and… Laughing at herself, she googled some job boards in public health first in Denver but then in Montana—she could hope that she and Beck could find their way, and she’d grown to love Marietta and the Three Tree Ranch as much as he and his cousins did. And his granddad felt like her granddad.
Her stomach dropped. By staying in town, she’d also miss time with Ben. She called him. Told him that she wouldn’t be staying at the ranch because of the class.
“What’s Beck done to be in the doghouse?” His deep voice rumbled.
“Nothing, it’s just more convenient,” she said hastily.
“Talked to him this morning, and he said you and he would be driving in this evening.”
Darn.
“Ummmmm…”
The laugh that rolled out warmed her heart. “Good for you. ’Bout time. Stay strong. No doubt Beck needs the kick in his ass.”
“It’s not a you-know-what kicking,” she reiterated. “I just…”
“It’s an ass-kicking. He needs it. Bodhi needs one too.” He paused. “Well, that would be something.”
Ashni scrunched her face, not understanding.
“You stay strong. Don’t give in when he comes round your door all full of apologies. Make him work for it.”
He was making her sound manipulative. Was she? “I really just—” She blew out a breath. “I really need to figure things out, and Beck gets around me so easily. I don’t think straight. So, some space.”
Ben laughed again. “It’s a Ballantyne trait. We make women lose their good sense. Don’t talk to him. Make him crazy. Spin it out ’til the end of the week.”
That made it sound like a game.
“Shouldn’t you be on his side if there were sides?” she demanded.
“I am,” he said. “But I’m on yours too. You do your part. Don’t cave. I’ll do mine.”
He hung up. Typical of Ben. He never said goodbye. He’d stand in the front, tall, fit, strong as Copper Mountain, give a quick wave or a grunt and walk to the barn, his back the only witness to his grandsons driving away.
Ashni clutched her phone. She needed to text Beck and tell him she wouldn’t be at the Boise airport. She didn’t want to tell him until his events were over. She checked the time. She’d text him after boarding. Something dinged on her search parameters, and she stared at the new posting. It was too surreal. Too perfect.
Feeling a spurt of reckless sprinkled with giddy, Ashni uploaded her résumé and wrote a short statement of intent. She nibbled on her lip as she read over her letter and then hit send.
“Grass growing under my feet no longer.”
And as she took her seat that she’d upgraded, she said yes to a glass of prosecco. Texted Beck her change of plans and promptly switched her phone to airplane mode.
“Cheers,” she said to the businesswoman next to her.
*
Beck drove his rig—his cousins not far behind—past the oh-so-familiar large, white, two-story farmhouse and continued on to the looming red barn, framed by sturdy oaks, a few hundred yards away. He parked to make it easy to unload his horses and unhitch his rig. His cousins followed suit.
The breeze, so familiar and scented with pine, blew down from the Gallatin Mountain range that towered over the north border of the ranch nestled into the foothills. The ranch was his favorite place in the country—and he’d traveled a lot. It was where he felt most himself. And the rolling foothills, covered in richest pasture grass—some of which they sold—pines and native fauna were the most beautiful sights in the world to him, when he’d head down Highway 89 and see the ranch and Paradise Valley spread out below him, welcoming him.
This was paradise. Home. And it always centered him, but not tonight.
Because Ashni wasn’t here.
“Did you get a phone call from hell?” Bodhi demanded.
“No, a text.”
“Maddy texted?” Bodhi asked incredulously.
No one called Madelyn Maddy ever. Nor did anyone but Bodhi call his mom—Genevieve Suzanne—Jenny, Viv or Suze. Not even her father. And Bodhi wouldn’t say any of those nicknames to her face.
“What? No.” He shook his head. He’d had hours to brood over Ashni’s text that she was staying in town because it was more convenient. How the hell was staying nearly a twenty-minute drive away from him convenient?
And what would she do in town? He’d be busy on the ranch with chores and upgrades. She often helped when they were home and cooked up meals like a chef competing on a network foody show. She loved playing in the kitchen and left Granddad a freezer full of food. A couple of years ago he and his cousins had upgraded the kitchen for her. Beck had built new butcher block countertops and cabinets and open shelves, and they’d all pitched in on new and upgraded appliances.
But he always made time to go into town with her or let her borrow his truck. How many men would be okay with that? Beck had tried to call her multiple times today, possibly veering into stalker mode, but she hadn’t picked up. Not once.
He couldn’t make sense of it. They hadn’t had a fight. They never fought. Not like he’d seen lots of couples do on the road. The rodeo folks were a passionate crowd, but Beck and Ashni had always saved their passion for the bedroom. Two weeks since he’d seen her. Held her. Made love to her, and now she wasn’t here. What kind of BS was that? His stomach cramped and his head pounded.
Maybe he was sick.
Not heartbroke.
“Earth to Beck.” Bodhi waved a hand in front of his face. He slapped it away.
“Yeah, Mom called.” He tried to get his head back into the conversation. Bodhi eyed him suspiciously. Maybe he should become a cop after the rodeo. That would actually be a funny TV show. He’d charm confessions out of all his suspects. “She’s coming. They’re all coming,” he said gloomily.
The Cowboy Says I Do Page 3