Loving the Heartland

by Marjorie Jones

  Lesbian Romance:

  Lesbian Cowgirl Contemporary Romance Novel

  Marjorie Jones

  Lesbian Romance: Loving the Heartland

  Lesbian Cowgirl Contemporary Romance Novel

  A novel by Marjorie Jones

  Cover Art by Indie Artist Press

  Published by Indie Artist Press

  Eagle Mountain, Utah

  www.indieartistpress.com

  Kindle Edition

  copyright © 2014-2015

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-62522-017-2

  February 2015

  This literary work is independently published by the author in association with Indie Artist Press. The author receives 100% of the proceeds from the sale of this book. If you receive this book in print format without a cover, or electronically by any means other than purchase through established channels or participation in a bona-fide ebook sharing subscription or program, the author did not receive compensation. Piracy of electronic or literary works is a crime.

  Look for these other titles by Marjorie Jones

  The Jewel and the Sword (Medallion Press)

  My Lady’s Will (Champagne Books)

  The Lighthorseman (Medallion Press)

  The Flyer (Medallion Press)

  Hope (Indie Artist Press)

  Hunting Camion (Indie Artist Press, Writing as Raleigh Kincaid)

  Dance in My Heart (Indie Artist Press)

  Dawn of Love (Champagne Books, Writing as Starla Childs)

  Dawn of Redemption (Champagne Books, Writing as Starla Childs)

  To my darling wife and our amazing children...

  Honor all families.

  If you enjoy this book, please leave a review on Amazon.com!

  Indie Artist Press does not receive any percentage of sales from the

  works of this independent author. The author earns 100% of the proceeds

  from this work of fiction!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter One

  Bright lights. Big City.

  Traffic inched over Las Vegas Boulevard. The slice of Nevada desert glowed bright as day even though the neon-green display on Michelle’s dashboard clock read eleven-thirty p.m. Hundreds of tourists meandered along the streets, mingling through the shops and casinos as if time meant nothing. And to them, perhaps it didn’t. But to Michelle? Time meant money and she had only fifteen minutes to meet her friend, Lacey Williams, before Lacey had to go back to work.

  The great Frank Sinatra, whose indelible imprint still marked Sin City, once said that New York was the city that never slept. Truth be told, Las Vegas ranked a close second in that regard. When she finished her meeting with Lacey, she’d need to race home to put the finishing touches on a project she’d been working on for Brianna Kincaid, one of her biggest clients. She owned the hottest lesbian club in town and was planning to launch a new gay club right next door in the next three weeks.

  A gap opened in the lane to her right and she slid her convertible Mustang into the slot. Lacey’s casino stood on the next corner. She just might make her meeting in time, after all.

  Several young men, not one looking older than twenty-two, crossed the street in front of her. The apparent leader of the pack turned in her direction and opened his muscled arms wide, showing off a hard chest beneath a casually-opened dress shirt. “Hey baby,” he shouted over her windshield. “You wanna party?”

  Oh, yeah. He’s toasted.

  She gave him her very best I’m-a-local-get-out-of-my-way grin and waited for them to finish crossing the street before she stomped the gas pedal and made for the corner. If they only knew, she thought, shaking her head at the concept that men were all interested in the same thing.

  She slipped into the valet parking lane in front of a huge hotel resort and waited for George, the attendant, to claim her car. Gathering her purse, tablet and digital camera, she climbed from behind the wheel.

  George was an older guy with a ring of silver hair and a face that would be at home in any mob movie. He rushed in to take her seat. “Hey there, girly. You lookin’ for Lacey?”

  “Yup. Is she in her regular pit?” Michelle handed him a ten dollar bill then took the claim ticket.

  “Not tonight. She’s been workin’ the Blackjack tables. Pit three, I think.”

  “Thanks, Georgie. I won’t be too long.”

  More bright lights met her in the lobby. Bells and sirens, laughter and the artificial clank of coins hitting metal trays deafened her as soon as she entered the casino. A slight ache developed in the back of her head.

  She dodged a group of elderly ladies making a bee-line for the nickel slots and made her way to the Blackjack tables.

  Waving to several friends along the way, she skirted the last pit and found a table in the tiny bar on the far side. Less than a minute later, Lacey plopped into the seat across from her.

  “I swear, Mike,” Lacey declared, using the nickname she’d given to Michelle at their first meeting, “I’m going to have to buy new feet before I ever save enough for next year’s tuition.” Lacey leaned forward in her chair and rubbed her ankles. They were very nice looking ankles.

  Michelle forced her attention back to Lacey’s face and smiled. She was a pretty girl, with large, green eyes; perfect skin. Her looks were classic and would fit very well in her chosen career as a television journalist. She was majoring in broadcasting and communication at UNLV. Any station or network would be lucky to have her, someday. “Beats the hell out of working a register or turning burgers for minimum wage, right?”

  “True.” Lacey leaned back and tugged at the strapless top of her cocktail uniform. The sexy black number barely concealed her ample breasts. “I’ll make it quick,” she continued. “I know you’re busy. I took an early out. Let me run and change, and I’ll be right back.” Lacey climbed out of the chair and headed toward the employee locker room.

  Not for the first time, Michelle admired her friend’s retreat. Naturally blonde and sexy, she exuded confidence and grace. Despite her complaints of sore feet, she moved with an assured sensuality that was purely femme. Michelle was femme, too, but unlike Lacey, these days she could barely walk in low-heeled pumps much less maneuver a casino floor in a strapless mini-dress and four-inch spikes.

  She admired Lacey for doing what she had to do in order to finish her education. There was a time when Michelle had done the same thing. Fifteen years earlier, Michelle had been the girl schlepping drinks, hoping for tips big enough to help her make rent. She’d worn the skimpy outfits, put up with men pawing her every chance they got, and sucking up the revulsion. She’d even worn the heels.

  Not anymore.

  Now she owned her own public relations firm in a city bent on its own self-image. Life was good. With more than a dozen employees, she managed a busy and successful virtual office and produced mobile, Internet and print advertising for some of the biggest resorts in a sprawling oasis of decadence and opulence.

  Michelle ordered a Long Island Iced Tea and made sure to tip the waitress very well. By the time it arrived, Lacey, looking more
comfortable in blue jeans, a UNLV sweatshirt and sensible tennis shoes, reclaimed her seat.

  Lacey smiled and waved at the bartender.

  “So,” Michelle began. “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

  Lacey made an attempt to look coy and relaxed and then, true to her transparent nature, gave up. She preened in her chair and beamed a smile full of even, white teeth. “Okay, I talked to my sister and she thinks it’s a great idea. She wants the complete package. Photos. Video. Everything. Oh, and a website. The works.”

  Michelle choked on her drink. “Are you serious? Miss-I-Have-No-Idea-What-Century-I-Live-In wants a website?”

  Lacey’s hands fell to her lap and she toyed with her fingernails.

  “I knew it. You’re lying,” Michelle groaned.

  “Not entirely. Casey loved the idea and thinks it could only help the ranch!”

  “Point in fact. Casey is your brother, not your sister.”

  “Kendra is practically a man, Michelle; it’s not always easy to tell them apart.”

  Michelle kicked Lacey under the table and gave her a look. They had often discussed how bizarre her family was – five kids, only two girls, and both of them lesbians. “But Casey isn’t in charge, is he? Last time we discussed this project, Kendra had no love for anything less than a hundred years old. She wanted no part of your little plan to save the family homestead.”

  “That’s because she’s a moron. C’mon, Michelle. Say you’ll do it! Please? The ranch has been in our family for over a century – five generations. Once you get there and show Kendra what a great tool the Internet really is, and how powerful the images you’re going to produce are, I’m sure she’ll come around.”

  “And in the meantime, I’m doing what? Scurrying about underfoot and making her life miserable? No, thank you.”

  “You couldn’t make anyone miserable if you tried.”

  Michelle snorted and took another sip of her drink. “Tell that to my mother.”

  Lacey rolled her eyes and flopped back in her chair. “So, you’ll do it?”

  Michelle paused, drilling Lacey with a double-barreled stare. Finally, she sighed. “Yes, I’ll do it. But I swear, one of these days, I’m going to learn how to pronounce the word, ‘No.’”

  “How soon can you leave for Utah?”

  “Day after tomorrow, I guess. I only have one project on the wire right now and I’ll be finished with the pics tonight. I can turn over the roll-out to Miranda and drive out to your folks place on Wednesday. The rest of the staff manage their own projects and can keep me in the loop on Skype.”

  “This is going to work. I just know it.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Lacey.” Michelle’s expression fell. “The government has an uncanny way of looking out for itself. If Kendra isn’t willing to play their game, the developers might very well take that land for their resort and she’ll have to find somewhere else to raise her cows. Money talks, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. But I’m an eternal optimist, remember? The lease doesn’t expire for another year, so we have time. We have plenty of time.”

  Michelle harbored more than a few doubts about this particular project. The first time Lacey had asked her about it, almost six months ago, she had given Michelle all the details surrounding her elder sister. Born a century too late, Kendra Williams seemed the epitome of an old west loner. According to Lacey, she’d raised all four of her siblings, most of them male, alone after her mother and father had been killed in a private plane crash before Lacey had been eight years old. Her descriptions of her sister-turned-guardian fit more readily into the mold of an old western movie than that of a modern ranch owner. She still rode the fences and shoed her own horses. Lacey hadn’t watched cable TV while growing up, played video games or anything else a typical American teen should have experienced at the turn of the new century. Of course, Kendra would have been miserable had she actually been born in the old west. Even Calamity Jane had been forced to wear a dress much of the time. Michelle had a feeling that Kendra never would.

  Still, Michelle knew how to promote and advertise a business. If she could convince an entire generation of Americans that Las Vegas was the perfect family destination, she could convince anyone of anything. If Kendra remained lost in her dreams of the past, the future would come in and rip out all of those roots she’d so painstakingly protected.

  And Michelle’s job would be that much harder.

  

  “Screw you, Mac!”

  Kendra Williams winced at her brother’s lack of respect. Then she slapped him on the back of his head and pulled him away from the Randall County Sheriff, Mac Lawrence. “Settle down, Case. Mind your manners.”

  “He can’t keep us out of that meeting, Kennie.”

  Kendra dragged her head-strong, younger brother through the lobby of the county courthouse by the breast of his leather biker jacket; past the bronze statue of the coal miner and portraits of twenty Miss Randall Counties, including his twin sister, Lacey. Kendra tossed him toward the double glass doors facing Main Street. “Casey, there is a time and a place for everything, and right now is not the time or the place for your temper. I hate this as much as you do, but we have to live here with these people and pissing of the sheriff isn’t going to help our cause.”

  “That old windbag can’t keep us out of a public meeting that has to do with our land!”

  “Get your ass in the truck and wait for me.”

  Casey stood his ground, both an annoying and admirable trait shared by all of the Williams clan. Kendra put her hands low on her hips and released a calming breath. In addition to the stubborn streak, Casey had a knack for dragging trouble with him wherever he went. If he’d just shut up and get in the truck, Kendra could figure out a way to get into that meeting. After a brief moment that felt like ten minutes, Casey turned and strode out of the building.

  “He’s a pistol, Kennie.” The sheriff slid next to her and put his hands in his trouser pockets, his head moving from side to side in forlorn desperation.

  Kendra ran a hand through her short hair and grimaced, keeping her focus straight ahead. “That he is, Mac. I just wish he’d quit misfiring.” She turned to face her old friend. “So, you gonna let me in that meeting?”

  “Now, Kendra. The commissioners aren’t going to side with some out-of-town developers over you. You know that. What good will it do for you to sit in on a zoning meeting when the request will be denied, anyway? You really didn’t even need to come into town for this.”

  “I lost another forty head last week.”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, the air in the room changed. Mere tension moved aside for the stirrings of real trouble, sending a finger of electricity over the short hairs on the nape of her neck. Silence stretched for more than a moment before Mac answered.

  “Shot?”

  “We think so.”

  Mac released a slow breath and crossed his arms over his chest. Kendra finally looked over at him. She’d known Mac for thirty years. They went to grade school together and then dated briefly in high school before Kendra had grown the balls to tell him she was a lesbian. Not that he’d been much surprised, as she’d found out when he’d breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t really going to keep faking it. He was the kind of guy who would probably have married her rather than confront her about it.

  The high school gym where they’d had this very serious conversation sat about four blocks east of where they stood at that moment. The same school that Mac’s daughter, Lenise, attended with Kendra’s youngest brother, Brad. Brad and Lenise had been dating for two years and recently attended the junior prom together.

  That’s what small towns were made of. Families. Generations. Stories.

  The Williams’ had worked the land and raised beef on a four-hundred acre spread at the Eastern edge of the county for a hundred years. Randall County took its name from her great-grandfather, Colonel John Randall, whose daughte
r had married a Williams and founded the Williams Cattle Company. The town hall was named after her uncle, one of the first county commissioners.

  No way was a group of dandies from New York City, of all places, going to come in here and take what wasn’t theirs.

  “Since this whole thing started a year ago, I’ve lost a grand total of two hundred and twelve cows and three bulls. Now, you want to tell me what I’m supposed to do about that? Who the hell is going to pay for a quarter of a million dollars in stolen and murdered livestock?”

  “Damn it, Kennie. This is the twenty first century, you know. What the hell do I know about cattle rustling?’ Exasperated, Mac let out another tired breath. He tended to do that when he’d given up the ghost and didn’t want anyone to know. Why couldn’t he just commit to doing what he needed to do – give her what she wanted? “I’ll ask around and see what I can find out.”

  “You may not know what to do about it, Mac, but I sure as hell do. I have a constitutional right to defend my life and my property. I’m giving you fair warning, if I catch just one of those sons-of-bitches anywhere near my property or my livestock, I’m taking them out.”

  “Kendra Lorraine Williams, you miserable sonofabitch! This is not the old west. I’ll send a deputy out to run your fence lines at least once per shift, but that’s about all I can do right now. Don’t do anything you’re going to regret.”

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed on her, but she didn’t care. For months, her stock had been depleted and if the bastards would steal or kill her cattle, they could just as easily get to her family. In her book, that made them a true threat. If they wanted to play at cattle rustling, she’d give them a game they wouldn’t forget. “Go right ahead. But remember; that’s my land for another thirteen months. I have every right to defend it, and my herd.”

  Two large, wooden doors swung open on the other side of the lobby, drawing her attention to four men wearing fancy suits. She glared at them with five generations of hatred. When they crossed the hard tile floor in her direction, her hands clenched into fists of their own accord.