Snowbound with the Cowboy

by Roxanne Rustand

  “Why not?”

  “I’m living in a small cabin, and don’t have enough space, or enough time at home to care for her. And the...um...current population there wouldn’t exactly be good company for a new mom and her litter of puppies.”

  “Population?”

  She felt her cheeks warm. Most people might think she was crazy, but she hadn’t been able to say no to a number of abandoned animals since returning to Pine Bend. If she gave in one more time she might end up sleeping in her truck. “I just wish I had a bigger place.”

  The dog waddled into the barn behind her and Tate followed, closing the door after them. He strode to a stall halfway down the aisle and brought out the injured colt.

  The gelding tossed his head and did a little sideways jog as if wanting to take off running. “He’s pretty impatient to be outside, as you can see.”

  After Tate cross-tied him, Sara knelt at his side and removed the layers of leg wrap and cotton batting.

  “The wounds look good,” she said, inspecting them closely. “With just the expected minimal seepage of serous—that’s clear—fluid but no evidence of swelling or infection.”

  After pulling clean materials from her satchel she rebandaged the leg, then gave the gelding another injection of long-acting antibiotics.

  “He shouldn’t be out in the pasture until the bandages are off and he’s fully healed. I’d rather he wasn’t free to run and buck just yet. But he could go on a hot-walker if you’ve got one, or you could pony him around the arena while riding another horse.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Tate led the colt back to his stall, took off the halter and came back out to the aisle. “No rush, that’s for sure. This is one of the Langford horses that we’ll—er, Jess—will put in our production sale next year. Well-broke ranch horses are worth quite a lot these days.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Sara picked up her satchel. “Is there anything else while I’m here?”

  He looked up at a calico barn cat glaring down at them from the rafters. “Jess says the barn cats need rabies vaccinations and whatever other vaccines they ought to have. But I don’t expect I can catch them all in a hurry, either.”

  As if the cat knew she was in danger, she disappeared.

  “Are you feeding them cat food or are they just mousers?”

  “Both, now. They looked sleek and fat when I got here, but I give them some dry cat food in the tack room anyway, in case they have a bad mouse day. There’s three of them, and they come running at kittykittykitty in the morning.”

  She gave him an assessing look. He might be from a wealthy ranching family: the son of the infamously cold and calculating Gus Langford. But from what the younger vet tech in the clinic said, with a good dose of hero worship in her eyes, he’d had a stellar rodeo career with many a championship.

  And he still had a soft heart.

  “Good. I want to see the colt one last time, in two weeks. Withhold the cat food the day before so they’ll be even more eager, then close them in the tack room for me and we can take care of them then.”

  She whistled to the dog and patted her thigh, signaling for the animal to follow her out to her truck. But the stray looked between her and Tate, then slunk over to him, draped herself over the toes of his boots and looked up at him with pure longing.

  “Wait.” He looked down into Lucy’s pleading eyes and felt his heart melt. “About this dog. What’s going to happen to her? She won’t be put down, will she?”

  Sara drew in a sharp breath, shocked at his words. “Of course not. I’ll...I’ll need to keep her at the clinic while I try to find her a good home.”

  “Which won’t be easy.”

  “Not for a pregnant dog, no,” Sara admitted. She caught the compassionate look in his eyes and hid a smile. She already knew where this was heading and it gave her a tentative sense of relief.

  “Of course, the clinic isn’t ideal for her,” she added somberly. “With all of the stress of the other dogs barking at every sound and strangers around her all day. Poor thing. Not good for the puppies, either.”

  “Maybe you could leave her here. With me.”

  Sara frowned. “Just as a loose stray, you mean? I really can’t—”

  “No. As...as...my own dog.”

  She caught the slight hesitation in his voice. “If you don’t really want to give her a permanent, loving home, I won’t leave her here. It’s a commitment for her lifetime, you know.”

  “Right.”

  “You said you weren’t going to stay in Montana for very long. What will happen to her then?”

  He seemed to give that a moment’s thought, then nodded decisively. “She’ll come with me. I haven’t had a travel buddy with me for years, and I think she’ll be exactly right.”

  “I usually don’t like taking people up on their snap decisions. I can keep her for you, if you want to think about this for a week or so.”

  “Not necessary. And you don’t have a good space for her and her pups right now, anyway. Right? I can fix a warm bed for her in the house.”

  “I have no idea if she’s been housebroken. I’d guess not.”

  “I’ll work with her.”

  Sara bit her lower lip. “Promise you’ll give her back to me if you change your mind?”

  “That won’t happen. What about her vet care? Do you know if she’s up to date on everything?”

  “If you’d seen where she came from, you wouldn’t even ask.”

  “So where do I start?”

  “Gestation averages right around two months. At thirty-five days I usually recommend putting a pregnant dog on dry puppy food for its extra nutrition, about twice the amount of food she would usually have.” Sara eyed Lucy thoughtfully. “I don’t know exactly how many days along she is, but she’s obviously getting close and she’s undernourished. Can you get into town soon? The feed mill or grocery store might carry it, though what we have at the clinic is a lot better and more expensive. She’ll need to be on it until she stops nursing.”

  “Of course.”

  “While you’re in town, you can pick up some wormer too. We usually deworm ten days before whelping, then every three weeks while the dog is still nursing.”

  “Shots?”

  “We need to wait on her vaccinations until after the pups arrive. There’s no risk for them at that point.” His concern about Lucy’s welfare was reassuring, and she knew she’d made the right choice leaving Lucy in his care. She knelt down and ran her hands over Lucy’s swollen flanks. “Since her history is pretty sketchy, you might also want her to have a postnatal exam and have the pups examined, as well. I could come back out, or you could bring them to the clinic.”

  “Gotcha. Anything else?”

  “Check the clinic website and print off our flyer on raising puppies.” She picked up her satchel. “If she has any problems, or you have any questions, just call. Oh—and take off that choke collar she’s been wearing and get her a nylon web or leather collar with a buckle.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  He held on to the dog when Sara headed for her truck. When she glanced in the rearview mirror as she drove away, he was kneeling beside Lucy and stroking her ragged coat.

  Sara felt her heart warm at the gentleness she remembered so well.

  As a senior she’d tried to distract her parents by dating the wildest boy in town—hoping they would finally stop fighting and stop threatening each other with divorce if they were worried about her for once.

  The wild and irresponsible son of the county’s richest rancher, Tate had been the perfect choice, but he was one of the coolest kids in high school and she hadn’t been one of the pretty, popular girls. Studious, shy and awkward, she’d fumbled over her words more often than not.

  Even her best friends had told her she was crazy, but still she’d gathered
her courage, tried to emulate the popular girls and shyly flirted with him.

  To her utter amazement he actually asked her out, and during the following months she’d found more depth, kindness and character in him than she’d ever thought possible given his reputation.

  But her stupid plan failed.

  Her parents split anyway—for the third time. And her guilt had grown.

  She’d been a fraud. A liar. She’d tried to use someone who deserved far, far better.

  And in the process she’d developed the world’s biggest crush on a boy who could learn the truth about her plan at any moment from any one of her so-called friends...and then he’d never believe that she really and truly cared. That she loved him.

  She’d drowned in misery before finally blurting out the truth, knowing that he had trusted her, cared about her—and that what she had done was unforgivable. She’d deceived him, and along the way, had deceived herself.

  He’d stared at her for a long moment. Then he’d walked away as if she’d meant nothing, and her heart had broken into a thousand pieces.

  Seeing him at school the next day with other girls fawning all over him had poured acid on her broken heart until she thought she would die. But it taught her a good lesson.

  Loving someone—commitment—wasn’t something she’d dared risk.

  Courtesy of her parents, she’d seen how miserable marriage could be, how infidelities and lies could tear a family apart, how forgiveness and second chances just led to even more pain in the future.

  And losing someone she loved was more painful than she could bear.

  So she’d turned to what mattered most to her parents. The accomplishments that proved her worth, the tangible evidence of success.

  A bachelor’s.

  Master’s.

  And then a professional degree—though she’d rebelled and defiantly gone her own route, on that score.

  Tate had clearly grown up to be a kind and caring person, and it would be far too easy to fall for him all over again. But there was no point in letting her imagination run wild where he was concerned.

  She already knew how easy it was to love him. How easily it could all end. She would need to guard her heart well or it would be broken all over again.

  * * *

  Jess burst out laughing over supper at the main ranch house a few hours later. “You did what?”

  “Adopted a dog,” Tate repeated. “Have a problem with that?”

  “No. Not at all. I just never thought I’d see Mr. Footloose and Fancy-Free taking on any kind of responsibility—not even for a dog. You’ve always said that you wanted absolutely nothing to tie you down. Ever.”

  Tate glared at him over the rim of his coffee mug. “I’m now realizing just how peaceful my life was before I moved back.”

  “You and Dev can even compare notes, because he and Chloe adopted a stray last summer.” Jess’s grin widened. “And now you’ll soon have puppies on your hands. From the looks of things, a bumper crop. Fun.”

  Jess and Abby’s adopted seven-year-old twins, Sophie and Bella, looked at each other and bounced eagerly in their chairs. “We want them. We could keep them all, Uncle Tate! We got lotsa room.”

  Jess and Abby had taken the girls in when their mother—Jess’s troubled cousin—hadn’t been able to care for them, and he could see that the twins already had Jess wrapped around their little fingers.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me, girls.” Tate leveled a triumphant grin at him as Jess’s own grin faded.

  “Whoa,” Abby said, barely suppressing a smile while holding her hands up. “That’s something for discussion later. You already have a puppy. Remember?”

  “But Poofy is a big dog now,” Bella cried, folding her arms stubbornly across her chest.

  A big dog indeed. At the sound of his name, the year-old golden retriever mix lumbered to his feet and crossed the kitchen to rest his head on her lap. He had to weigh at least eighty or ninety pounds.

  “He’s not a fluffy puppy anymore, and he needs friends to play with,” Sophie added. “Lots.”

  “What about Devlin’s dog?”

  “Daisy lives with Uncle Devlin.” Bella pouted. “She’s not here. And she’s really, really big.”

  “We could give a puppy to Uncle Devlin so Daisy has a friend, and then keep the rest!” Sophie beamed. “Right? Then Grandma Betty could have a friend too.”

  “Great idea.” Tate grinned at them, charmed as always by their earnest appeals. “I’m sure Dev and Grandma would love that.”

  Great-grandma had been too much of a mouthful for them to say when they first came to the ranch, so to them and everyone else, Betty was simply grandma.

  “Do you have any idea of the trouble you’re causing? Big trouble. We’ll never hear the end of this.” Jess leveled a stern look at Tate. “And as your older and much wiser brother, I just have to ask. Does this mean you’re ready to settle down and stay home? It won’t be easy traveling to rodeos year-around with a dog.”

  “That won’t be a problem. And yes, I’m still planning to move on. I’ll always need new towns ahead and the old ones in my rearview mirror.”

  Abby raised her eyebrows. “So apparently the match made in heaven that Jess and Dev told me about...”

  “Never existed. Sara and I were in the same high school class. Friends from long ago. Only that.” And if he kept telling himself that, maybe he would even believe it...in a year or two or three.

  “But you two dated. Right?”

  Tate shot a quelling glance at Jess. “Maybe for just a little while, senior year in high school. But it wasn’t serious. Sara had...ulterior motives that didn’t work out, and then she ended it. Which was fine with me. Case closed.”

  “Ulterior what?” Abby looked between Jess and Tate. “What does that mean?”

  Jess shrugged.

  Tate took his plate to the sink, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher, then headed for the door. “Thanks for a wonderful meal, Abby. Tell Grandma Betty that I loved her apple pie and missed seeing her tonight. I hope she had fun at bingo.”

  He slipped out the back door and headed for his pickup, glad to be outside and away from the gentle teasing and probing questions that flew across the table every time he joined Jess and his family for supper.

  He knew it all stemmed from love and caring, the kind of camaraderie he was blessed to still have despite all of his years away.

  But he wasn’t ready to discuss his past with Sara. Not with anyone. He’d been such a fool.

  Their relationship as high school seniors had started out as just a ruse she’d planned, an attempt at a goal that had nothing to do with him.

  Unaware of it, he’d been overcome with the heady emotions of an adolescent crush that had nearly destroyed him when he learned the truth. He’d fallen in love with her. She’d never felt the same. And at the end, it took all of his courage to shrug and walk away as if none of it mattered.

  He suspected those wounds were with him still...silently warning him whenever a new romance turned a little too serious.

  So what had come over him during Sara’s vet call? He’d seen many a stray dog over the years. Caught them and took them to no-kill shelters, whenever he could, or found a buddy who wanted a family dog.

  But Jess knew him too well, and he was right. Tate had never, ever wanted to take on the responsibility of anyone or anything himself—not even a dog—which would just make his traveling life more difficult.

  And yet, he’d taken one look at Lucy and he’d felt surprising warmth expand in his chest. He hadn’t been able to look away from the sadness in her eyes and drooping ears, or the way she seemed to cower with her head lowered, her tail feebly, almost imperceptibly wagging, as if she was still holding on to a thread of hope that someone might take her in. He’d never been so sure that a dog was his destin
y.

  Lucy had stirred in him an unfamiliar rush of protectiveness. Within minutes of seeing her, he’d known that he just couldn’t let Sara take her away.

  After Sara left for another ranch call, he’d gone straight to town for the wormer and special puppy food at the clinic, then he’d come home to build a whelping box thickly padded with newspapers and a folded wool blanket.

  Back when his rodeo buddy Jace got married he’d thought about settling down, as well, but he’d given up finding the right woman long ago.

  Was his abrupt change of heart over Lucy—his unexpected new companion—a small sign that his life was going to change?

  Foolish thought.

  He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh as he drove home to the old Branson place.

  The only big change in his future would be when he began his new career as a rodeo contractor. And that was just fine with him. Who could ask for anything more?

  Seeing old friends at the rodeos. Travel. Excitement. A new town every week. It was a perfect life.

  Or was it?

  Chapter Three

  Tate slowed his mare to a walk as he entered the pine forest and twisted in the saddle to survey the fence line.

  Like most snowfalls this time of year, much of the five inches yesterday was already melting in the brittle February sunshine and there were exposed patches of winter-dried grass in the meadows. This far up in the foothills, the snow was still deep in the shade of the pines—not yet the ideal weather for riding the fence to check for damage. But with the rodeo contractor’s auction coming up in Colorado the first weekend in May, he needed to make use of every minute, to stay ahead of chores. Knowing the locations and extent of any repairs would help him hit the ground running after the spring thaw.

  Blondie lowered her head as she carefully picked her way past a fallen tree, jerking to a halt with a loud snort at the sudden frenzied motion of a rabbit bounding from its hiding place beneath the snow-blanketed branches.

  Tate reached forward to rest a steadying hand on her neck. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Take it easy.”