Always a Cowboy (10 page)

CHAPTER NINE

D
RAKE
WASN
'
T
SITTING
on the porch because he was waiting for a certain hiker to show up, safe and sound.

Nope. Absolutely not.

A man had every right to sit on his own porch and enjoy a cold beer.

No reason to worry about Luce because she happened to be a tenderfoot.

No reason at all.

He wasn't fooling his older brother. Next to him—in one of those rocking chairs their mother insisted on that were actually quite comfortable—Slater said, “Relax. She isn't an idiot. Far from it. Grace tells me Luce is a very experienced hiker.”

Was he that transparent? He sure as hell hoped not. Drake summoned up his most indifferent expression. “I'm just sitting here having a beer. How'd the filming go today?”

“Nice try, Ace. Sometimes deflection works, but not tonight. Don't worry, I'm not going to initiate a deep, soulful discussion about your tender feelings. I'm saying the woman intended to camp up near that ridge during this whole study deal, so just because she's staying with us doesn't mean you get to monitor when she comes home—like she's a teenager out on a date or something. She knows better than to miss dinner. If she isn't smart enough to keep on Harry's good side, then I've severely misjudged the woman.”

Drake nodded. Being late for dinner...no way you'd want to do that.

He could deny his concern, but he doubted that would work. “I should have ridden up there.”

His brother mimicked their mother's skeptical expression. “You have time for that?”

“I'm sitting here having a beer with you, aren't I?”

“A rare occasion.”

It was true. He didn't knock off this early very often.

“I was basically done for the day.”

His brother wasn't buying it. “No, you're sitting on this porch worrying about her.”

Maybe. He couldn't disagree. “Big mountains out there.”

“Yes, big mountains. Drake, it isn't a bad thing to admit you're concerned about Luce.”

He thought it over, boot heels on the railing. This was going to be a beautiful sunset. “I don't think that the words
concern
or
worry
really apply. I just wish she'd show up so I could forget about her and not have to wonder if she's been eaten by a bear—or attacked by a wild horse. That would sure make my life easier.”

Slater choked on his beer, laughing and wiping at his shirt. “A woman shows up and makes your life easier? Oh, yeah, happens all the time.” Then he sobered. “She might make your life better, but not
easier
.”

“So speaks a married man.”

“So speaks a happily married man. Grace is the love of my life, but is it easier? Nope.”

“Wait until that baby arrives.” Drake chortled as he imagined his older brother changing diapers. That mental image made the beer taste even better.

“Well, laugh it up all you want, but I think you've caught the same disease I have, and there isn't a cure.”

“You're talking about love. Lust isn't the same thing.”

“I agree. Completely.”

That shook him more than a little. “She's smart and she's pretty. With the full moon and all, it was...just a kiss.”

“I kinda thought the same thing with Grace. Just a kiss. Wrong. But at least you can relax. Here she comes.”

Drake knew his relief was telling. He had to force himself not to get to his feet; he managed to stay camped in his chair until Luce reached the porch. Then he
had
to stand or his mother would have his head. Slater got up, too. His faint smile was irritating, but Drake could live with it better than with Keller's.

Luce sent him a direct look. Her shirt had wet spots on it from perspiration and she seemed distressed and out of breath. Yet she still managed to look damn beautiful, even after hiking about a million miles. “We've got a missing foal.”

Her expression asked what he was going to do about it. That signal came through loud and clear.

“Okay,” he said tentatively, waiting for her to explain.

“It isn't okay at all! I mean
missing
. I was there all afternoon. He's gone.”

There could be any number of explanations. Horses got sick, just like any other creature. The foal could have wandered off and gotten lost. Mares were vigilant, but mistakes did happen in the natural order of things. Or there could be a predator stalking the horses, like the one taking his calves now and then. He said in what he thought was a patient tone, “I get it, Luce, but you can't expect me to ride herd—so to speak—on a bunch of wild horses. I've lost calves, too.”

He and Slater exchanged a glance. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Sure am.” This wasn't news, more like an unwelcome update. “It's a big cat.” Drake threw it out there as he grew more certain. “I thought it was wolves, but no, a mountain lion's staked out territory around here. He's got to be big, too. Remember that mauled deer I found last year?”

His brother nodded. “Could be a she. And if she's got little ones, she'd be more dangerous than a male.”

That was a valid point. He turned toward Luce. “You're not going up there alone, not anymore.”

She obviously resented his authoritative tone. Leaning against the porch railing, she snapped, “Excuse me?
What
did you just say?”

Perhaps he should've put it differently, but he stuck to his guns. “How much clearer do I need to be?”

“There's this part where you get yourself declared my legal guardian. Otherwise, you don't have jurisdiction over what I do and don't do. I believe you mentioned earlier today that you can't stop me.”

“I've changed my mind. Carson ranch, Carson rules.”

“How am I supposed to study the horses, then?”

“Figure it out, but you aren't going up there alone.”

She pulled the high card, taunting him. “I bet Harry would back me up. I know your mother and my mother would.”

“Maybe.” But in this case, maybe not. Harry was no stranger to how things operated in these parts, and if there was danger, he didn't think either of their mothers would be on board. “I doubt it, though. You aren't a regular part of a mountain lion's diet, but on the other hand, they aren't picky. They've attacked people before. You don't weigh more than the last calf I lost.”

“Oh, that's comforting. Are you comparing me to a cow?”

Drake groaned. He'd stepped into that one. He'd said
calf
, but maybe he should just abandon this particular tack. Instead, he turned to his brother. “What do you think?” he asked. “She shouldn't go up there on her own, right?”

“If I want to be part of an argument, I'll hang out with my very pregnant wife. I'd advise you to take Grace with you, Luce, but I doubt she's up for the long walk—and she insists on working until the day she goes into labor. However, I maintain that at this time she could kill a mountain lion with her bare hands.” Slater rose, saying over his shoulder, “See you two at dinner. Have fun resolving this.”

He beat it, and Drake envied him that option. He sighed. “Luce, I worried about you all afternoon.”

Finally
, he'd apparently said the right thing. She leaned back against the railing, arms tightly crossed. But she softened. “Oh,” she said in a quiet voice.

“I had work to finish, but I was too distracted because I was anxious about you.”

“That's sweet.”

Probably the last thing he'd ever wanted to be called was
sweet
. It was better than her being mad at him, but sweet? “I don't want you eaten by a rogue cougar. I hardly think that qualifies as sweet. Don't feel special, okay? I don't want
anyone
eaten by a big cat.”

“I was referring to how you worried about me all day.”

“Afternoon,” he corrected.

She waved a hand loftily. “I'm going with
all day
.”

The breeze stirred her ponytail; he wished he hadn't noticed that.

And the flirtatious smile she gave him did something interesting to his composure. He made an effort to lean casually against the railing, too. “Look, Luce, Slater can put up remote cameras near the ridge. Then you can skip going off by yourself and still watch the horses.”

“That's like sitting on the couch watching television! No, thanks. I came all the way here for the full experience.”

And his mother referred to
him
as stubborn? “You can't stay up there by yourself for weeks. Are we really going to continue this conversation?”

“Nope. I'm off to have a shower before dinner. Harry told me she's making French chicken. Not sure what that means, but I trust it'll be fantastic.”

It was, and
he
trusted that this discussion wasn't over.

* * *

D
INNER
WAS
DIVINE
.

The chicken, simmered in white wine with garlic and then served with crispy potatoes, and a salad tossed with homemade green goddess dressing would have shamed the most elite foodie place in California.

“So, Moonshine, how's the still coming along?” Drake asked between helpings. Luce was fairly sure he was going for his third.

Mace responded, “It's not a still. I'm trying out what I think will be a better fermentation process for a small line of liquors.”

Drake looked at Luce and said in a loud whisper, “It's a still. No wonder he wanted me to buy the stuff for it, so
I'll
look like the guilty party if he gets caught making his illicit potions.”

“What you know about making wine—or any kind of potable—could fit in the stomach of a tree frog.” Mace plucked a roll from the basket on the table. That quaint expression had Red written all over it. She choked, laughing, on a sip of wine.

“How big is the frog?” Slater asked helpfully with a grin.

Mace grinned, too. “Real small. One of those little green ones about the size of your fingertip.”

“It isn't useful knowledge in my chosen profession.” Drake said it in a superior tone. “By the way, that last lemon bar has my name on it.”

“Like hell it does,” Grace piped up. “You all sit there swilling your wine and I can't have any, so that last lemon bar is for me and Junior.”

“I'd listen to her, guys. She's in as good a mood as a rattlesnake branded with a red-hot poker.” That was Ryder, Grace's teenage stepson, and his grin echoed Slater's. He was fifteen, Blythe had confided. His father was in the military, and even though he and Grace were divorced, she'd taken on her ex-husband's child, because his birth mother had no interest due to a second marriage and other children. Luce was under the impression that his father was gone most of the time, so when Slater and Grace got married, Ryder had been part of the deal.

The Carsons were an interesting family, to say the least.

Drake immediately passed the plate to his sister-in-law. “You win hands-down, Grace.”

“You've always been my favorite. Thank you.” She grabbed the last cookie.

“Hey!” Both Mace and Slater said it.

After dinner, the ritual seemed to be that the men cleared the table while the women, including Harry, sat and had a cup of tea or decaf coffee. The dining room suited the overall grand style of the house, and the table was obviously an heirloom that could comfortably seat the whole crowd. There was a stunning quilt hanging above an old sideboard, and Luce couldn't help commenting on it. “I love that as a wall decoration.”

“It's by Hadleigh Galloway,” Blythe told her. “She owns the quilt shop in town. She does beautiful work. You can commission one if she doesn't have what you want. I promise you won't be disappointed.”

The image of wild horses immediately danced through her head. “Really? I might stop by there.”

“She's super nice, too.” Grace yawned. “Is it too early for bed? Maybe I ate too much.”

“Or maybe there isn't a lot of room in there for food. He's growing like a weed,” Harry suggested with a kindly twinkle in her eye, although her expression was stern. “I just ordered a book online about making homemade baby food. No jarred stuff for the new addition.”

They'd learned that it was a boy, but Grace and Slater had refused to reveal the name they'd chosen, to the amusement of the whole family, Luce gathered.

Grace certainly didn't argue. “If you make it, I bet he'll eat it when the time comes for solid food. Anyway, I'm off to bed. I have a romance novel waiting for me and hopefully about ten hours of sleep.”

Blythe was laughing as her daughter-in-law departed. “I enjoy this experience a lot more when someone else is going through it. But I can't wait to hold this one in my arms, even though the last thing we need around here is another male.”

Harry got up, too. “Ain't that the truth. I have to go to the kitchen to see what's happening. Those boys could be doing anything. I hear a lot of banging of dishes and pans.”

“Who knows?” Blythe shrugged, still smiling. “They need to be managed. I'll go with you.”

That left Luce to wander out onto the veranda by herself, tea in hand, until Drake suddenly joined her. “I was banished,” he informed her. “I wash, they're supposed to dry and put away. But Harry took over my job, probably because of you. My mother not so subtly suggested we go for an evening stroll. That's how she put it—stroll.”

He sounded disgruntled enough that Luce sent him a mischievous smile. “I take it there's a country song out there called ‘Real Cowboys Don't Stroll'?”

“I couldn't tell you. Now, I'm going to
stroll
to the stables to check on the horses like I do every night, so if you'd care to join me, feel free. It's another pretty night, but Red says tomorrow's going to be as blustery as an old hag on a rant.”