A Cowboy for Mom

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright©
2014 Honor James

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-799-4

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of
this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I
would like to dedicate this novel to my mom and to all of the moms in the
world.

A COWBOY FOR MOM

Cowboy
for the Holidays, 2

Honor James

Copyright
© 2014

Prologue

Throwing his truck into Park, he
sat for a long time staring over the manicured lawns. Neatly trimmed hedges
lined the roadway, flowers followed the paths, and giant trees created
interesting patterns of light over everything.

Slowly, he turned
off the engine and pocketed his keys. Grabbing the bundle from the passenger
seat and his Stetson from the dash, he slid out into the cool morning air.
Pushing the hat onto his head, he took a breath as he locked up the truck.

He walked slowly
along the path and paused when he reached his destination. Clearing his throat,
he swallowed a couple of times before he felt comfortable enough to begin.

“Hi Mom,” he said
quietly. “I know it’s been awhile, and for that, I’m sorry. The ranch
has
been pretty busy already this year, but I’m sure you
remember how that goes.
Too much to do in too few hours of
every day.”

Rubbing at the
bridge of his nose as birds chirped in a nearby tree, he shifted on his feet.
“Had to hire a couple more hands and from the way things look, I’ll be getting
a couple more come June. Bev called the other day,” he said, mentioning his
younger sister, a major pain in his ass. “She said to tell you hello and to let
you know that she and Mark were thinking of you.” His sister’s
husband
 
never
particularly liked his mother-in-law, but he did respect her for raising a
strong, independent daughter.

“Both her rugrats
are getting big, so she says, though I won’t be able to see for myself until
the end of summer, when they come down from
New York
to visit. Talked to them both
briefly, though, and it sounds like Moira has a boyfriend. Yeah, I know she’s
only seven and we all know how well those last at that age, but she’s pretty
excited. Mark definitely is not happy about it, even if Bev tells him it’s just
a puppy crush. He still thinks he needs to have words with the boy.”

Grinning, he shook
his head and then spoke about his nephew, Collin. “Collin’s getting all
A’s
again this
year and doing well on the wrestling team. Bev says he’s a scrapper and, while
he’s still gangly at ten, he’s got some solid technique happening. They’re
planning a trip down to
Florida
once school is out to visit with Dad. I told them that if I can manage it, I’ll
slip away for a couple of days to meet them there for some fun in the sun. But
we all know how hard that can be.”
Especially with his old
man having found a new woman to share his life with.
Not exactly how he
wanted to spend his time, watching his old man make the moves on a younger
woman. Or spend too much time with his sister, who would bug him nearly nonstop
about his life and the fact that he didn’t call and relay all to her as he was
apparently supposed to do. But seeing the kids was really why he wanted to go,
since he missed his niece and nephew.

“Anyway, I just
wanted to come by and say hey. I know I’m a little early, but Mother’s Day
falls
on a
cattle buy day this year.
I know, they should know better.
But I’ll come back on your
birthday too and bring you something a little more special, as well. I promise
you’ll like it and no, it won’t be expensive. I know how you always hated us
blowing our hard-earned money on you.” She’d always insisted that both he and
his sister make her a gift each year.--something from their hearts to her,something
they thought she’d like, and she always did, no matter how butt-ugly it had
been.

Crouching, he lay the bouquet down gently. “Happy Mother’s Day,
Momma,” he whispered. Pressing his hand to the cold stone that marked her final
resting place,
Carson
bowed his head and let out a shuddering breath. Sixteen years and it never got
easier but still he came each and every Mother’s Day and birthday. “I love you,
Momma,” he managed to get out around the lump in his throat.

Chapter One

Ugh,
four a.m.
was too damned early, even
for a lifer cowboy like himself. Stumbling to the bathroom, he hit the switch and
instantly regretted the light as it seared into his corneas. Hissing out a foul
curse, he threw up a hand to cover his eyes and continued toward where the
toilet was last seen.

With an empty
bladder and hot water pounding down on his still-aching muscles, he was able to
crack his eyes open without feeling like he’d go blind. Not that he could see
much with his blurry eyesight. Too little sleep did that to a person, and it
gave him eyelids that felt more like sandpaper whenever he blinked.

While the shower
helped wake hima bit, staring in the mirror he knew there was no way in hell he
was going to chance shaving. Making a face at his blond hair and blue eyes (
all his
mother’s), he shook his head. Not putting a razor to
his throat was likely the wisest decision he’d make all day.

Brushing his teeth,
he inspected himself as he did about once a week, noting all he had inherited
from his mother and father. The Scandinavian coloring was from his mother, with
blond hair that went white under the summer sun, blue eyes that changed with
his mood, and high, pronounced cheekbones. The square jaw that kept him from
looking too effeminate was from his dad, as was the small cleft and the big dimples
when he smiled full out. Same with the broad forehead, shoulders, and his
nearly six
foot
four inches in height. But he’d acquired
his mother’s ability to eat anything and everything without gaining a pound
,something
his sister still hated him for since she’d ended
up with their father’s metabolism and was, more often than not, on a diet.

Rinsing his mouth,
he brushed a towel over his face and wrinkled his nose. At one time it had been
as straight and aristocratic as his mother’s. But having been thrown from
horses over the
years,
and a couple of solid punches
from stupid fights as a young man had definitely given it a more unique
contour. At least he could breathe out of it, unlike a couple of his old school
chums who’d needed to have some serious surgery to correct that issue.

Padding back to
the bedroom, naked of course since he didn’t bother with nightclothes and lived
alone in the farmhouse, he headed for the closet. Jeans, a lightweight cotton
undershirt and heavier long sleeve shirt on top, socks, and a pair of beaten-up
cowboy boots was his power suit of choice, both for working the ranch and
dealing with farmers and their lackeys.

Oh, he had actual
suits, and he could even clean up right fine when he chose, but he was a
rancher and if people couldn’t accept that, then he didn’t care to know them.
Sadly, they all
wanted
to know him
since he was one half of the heir to a hell of a fortune, something else his
mother had left him, and his sister
Beverly
was the other half. Not that Carson or Beverly
had
 
known
that fact when they were growing
up. Hell, they hadn’t even learned about it until their mother passed away from
complications after surgery from a ruptured appendix. They found out that her
grandfather, their great-grandfather, had been some sort of shipping baron. His
son had turned it into a damned empire, and their mother had been the sole
beneficiary as she’d been an only child.

The real kicker
was that even
Carson
’s
dad hadn’t known about it and had been right pissed that the majority of the
fortune had gone to his kids instead of to him. Not that his mother had
forgotten his dad, but she knew him for what he was, and had given him only
what she felt he deserved,just enough to send him packing and leaving the ranch
in Carson’s more-than-capable hands.

Pouring coffee
into the thermos, he dumped the last bit into a mug and, propping a hip
to
 
the
counter,
stared out into the dark yard. The ranch had been their mother’s. She’d bought
the land and started it up, teaching her kids the value of hard work and a
dollar. So when they’d gotten the inheritance and more zeros than he could
contemplate without getting light-headed, they were stumped as to what to do.

They were now
co-owners and majority shareholders in the companies that their great-grandfather
and grandfather had started and kept growing respectively. Thankfully, there
was a board of directors
and
 
Carson
and Bev only had to attend two meetings each year,one in
March and the other in mid-September. They went, listened to prospective ideas,
spent a couple of days talking it out as far as pros and cons, and then either gave
the “green light” or not. They would also sign all the paperwork that no one
else had the authority to sign.