Always a Cowboy (21 page)

That dratted picture. Still, Luce couldn't really blame
his
mother for telling
her
mother. After all, she herself had blabbed the news to Beth right away. As a matter of fact, she'd now told
two
people that she and Drake were engaged. At this point, the entire town probably knew, anyway—thanks to the film and to her visit with Melody.

Luce held her coffee mug between her palms. “Drake's going to hate visiting California, isn't he?”

Blythe leaned back, the slanting sunlight catching the silver in her auburn hair. “He dislikes leaving Wyoming, but for you he'll do it. In my opinion, that's better than an emphatic ‘I love you.' The old cliché about actions speaking more loudly than words, you know? He wants you to be happy and you should let him make you happy. And that, in turn, will make him happy. Pretty simple actually. People tend to complicate relationships.”

Luce didn't discount that. She'd watched a few of her friends try to change their various boyfriends without success or, perhaps worse, change for them. Compromise was necessary, of course, as her father had once told her, but being true to yourself was the best thing you could do for your marriage. It kept you from resenting your husband or wife. That was why he let her mother give her parties without complaint and she let him play golf as often as he wanted. He couldn't understand her endless need to entertain, and she thought golf was boring, but their marriage worked because they each understood what was important to the other.

The ranch and his family were part of Drake's soul. But he'd have to understand that all the compromise wasn't going to be on Luce's side.

A car coming up the driveway interrupted her reflection.

“It's Lettie.” Blythe sounded pleased. “I'll bet she's already heard about Harold somehow. She has a network that's second to none. Mine doesn't even compare, and I've lived here for years. I warn you, she has a tendency to say whatever's on her mind, but she also has the softest heart of anyone I know.”

The woman was wearing a tailored suit at— Luce wasn't quite sure of the time, but it couldn't be more than eight. She marched up the steps and walked straight over to where Harold still lay on his blanket, looked him over and nodded. “Jax Locke obviously did his job. Good man.”

Harold wagged his tail weakly.

Blythe murmured, “Morning, Lettie. Have you met Luce Hale?”

“The girl Drake's going to marry. Prominent California family. She's here to study wild horses.” Lettie Arbuckle-Calder moved to the table, settled into a chair, then crossed her elegant legs and accepted a cup of coffee. She leveled a stare at Luce, who now felt distinctly grubby even after cleaning up, and asked, “What's your young man going to do about the mountain lion?”

She didn't know what Mrs. Arbuckle-Calder was hoping to hear. “He could've killed it last night, but that isn't Drake. He has a friend who's relocated lions before. He's going to call him and review his options.”

Mrs. Arbuckle-Calder relaxed visibly. “I approve of that.”

Whew. Right answer.

“What about the wild horses?”

Now, there was a tricky one...

Luce took a gulp of coffee. She hadn't expected an interrogation this morning. “He says they can't stay.”

“I have a solution to his problem.”

The lady sounded very sure. Luce liked her more by the minute. “I can't wait to hear it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

I
F
HE
KEPT
a diary—which he didn't—Drake might've written,
Best day of my life, but not without problems
. First day as an engaged man. That was the happy part. He could also note that Red, although he'd never admit it, seemed to be coming down with something—maybe the flu. Which could be dangerous at Red's age.

Slater was out of town, so he couldn't help, and Mace had gotten in a huge order for Mountain Vineyards wine that had him dancing in the streets but working like a dog.

And speaking of dogs... Harold was doing very well—considering. It still hurt to think they might've lost him. Working with animals his entire life, he tried to not get too attached, but...

Ed Gunnerson answered on the third ring. “Drake. We haven't talked in a while. What's up?”

Drake was multitasking, stacking hay bales and talking on his cell. “I need your help. I've got a problem with a mountain lion, and he needs to go. One way or the other, but I prefer the other. He and my dog got into it, and the dog essentially lost the fight. Seems like he's going to make it, though. This cat's been raiding my calves since last summer, but he's getting bolder. Thoughts?”

There was a pause. Ed always took his time. “Big cats have big territories.”

That wasn't news. “Could you track him?”

“Oh, yeah, if he has a pattern, and they all do. Done it before. Track him and move him.”

Maybe he could cross that off his to-worry-about list. “You are officially invited to the Carson ranch.”

“I know where he could be content to live to a ripe old age and help keep the deer population under control. I'll try to get the arrangements in place.”

“I'd appreciate it.”

“I prefer a humane solution myself. That's why we're here.”

“Thanks.” He ended the call and contemplated what he should do next. There were always chores, needless to say, but he should check on Harold and Violet.

And Luce. When he'd gotten up, she'd still been asleep. Everyone had been asleep.

He rode back to the house and saw a recognizable car in the drive. He liked Lettie Arbuckle-Calder, but the woman was difficult to dissuade when she made a decision. He'd once tried—and failed—to deflect her from purchasing a nearby piece of property. She'd later sold it, and he figured that proved he'd been right, but he was never going to hear that from her.
I was wrong
was not part of her vocabulary.

Why did he have a sinking feeling that this had something to do with him? If Mrs. A-C felt the need to meddle, leave him out of it.

No such luck.

When he walked onto the porch, he saw Harold had gotten up and was eating. An encouraging sign. Violet was keeping him company, munching kibble from her bowl, too. She deserved a double helping.

“Hi,” he said lamely to the three women sitting there. “I'm checking on the dogs, but I see they're in good hands. Red isn't feeling well, so I'm feeding the horses.” A pause. “Beautiful day, isn't it? See you later.”

Just as he spun around, Lettie said in a steely tone, “Not so fast, young man.”

At thirty-two, he wouldn't describe himself as young anymore, but with his mother sitting right there, he wasn't going to argue. However, he wasn't going to apologize for his reluctance, either. The fact that he could tell Luce was laughing to herself didn't make the situation any more comfortable. “Yes?”

“I want to talk to you about the horses.”

“Which ones?”

What man
wouldn't
be wary with three women looking at him expectantly? He certainly was.

It was Luce, as bewitching in her faded jeans and plain shirt as she was in her stylish dress, who finally said, “The wild ones.”

His mother added, “I think it's a brilliant plan.”

Oh, a supposedly brilliant plan involving wild horses and women? Just what every man needed. Both unpredictable. It would be rude to point that out, so he hedged. “I'm listening. I guess.”

“The old Winston homestead. The one where you believe the herd winters, correct? I've looked into it. The state owns the property now because it was abandoned and no taxes were being paid. You know how slowly the government works.” Mrs. A-C sniffed in disapproval at the slow-moving wheels of bureaucracy. “But I have some influence here and there.”

She probably had more influence than the governor, although he refrained from mentioning that. “I'm following you, but only so far. What's your suggestion?”

“I'd like to propose that the state of Wyoming make the property part of their park system on the basis of its being a historical landmark. If you can relocate the horses there, your problem's solved and they won't have to be shipped off anywhere.” She seemed very...self-satisfied. Yep, that was the word for it.

He propped one foot on the top step, wishing it was that simple and not knowing how to delicately explain that it wasn't. “Uh, well, it sounds great in theory, but—”

“In
theory
?” Luce interrupted. She plonked down her coffee mug. “It sounds
great
, Drake. In reality. Not just in theory.”

He gave her a quelling look. “You've been studying them, right? Doing research? Then you're aware of how fast the herds grow. By the time this arrangement was set up, my problem would be a lot worse than it is now. Not to mention that I don't know if the federal government would even agree to let a state park keep wild horses when it's allocated land to manage them. And don't forget that stallion's kicked through almost every fence
I've
ever put up. Plus, there's no guarantee the horses would stay put, because he moves them all the time. My bull is easier to contain. Sounds simple, but I promise you, it won't be.”

That reminded him he had to meet Jim Galloway in a couple of hours to go see a young bull owned by a friend of his.

Full day. At least Harold seemed to be doing as well as anyone could hope. Jax had said he'd stop by later.

Mrs. A-C tapped the table and said thoughtfully, “Probably valid points. I will ask all the right questions, then. Nothing is insurmountable.”

He hoped that was true, but he'd stumbled across a few situations that were pretty daunting. Yet he had to admire her confidence. He didn't envy whatever official in the state government got her call. They'd be scrambling to accommodate her, no doubt about it.

“I'd better get back to work.” He touched his hat. “Ladies.”

Then he beat a hasty retreat—although not as hasty as he would've liked. Self-preservation was rarely unwise. He could stand his ground if he had to, but his philosophy was to be polite and get the heck out of there when it was three against one and he was the one. A minority position was always difficult. Besides, he had things to do, plenty of them, and he even took his truck so he wouldn't have to go back to the house.

Of course, when he got to the stable, Red was hard at work. Drake frowned. “I told you to knock off for the day. You really look like you could be running a fever.”

“Nonsense.” Red continued to brush down a horse. “I don't get sick.”

“You don't
admit
you get sick. There's a difference.” He plucked the brush from the older man's hand and went to work on the gelding. “I'll finish this. Go take a nap.”

“Naps are for old ladies,” he said gruffly.

Time to play the trump card. “I told my mother you weren't feeling well. She'll tell Harry. Mrs. Arbuckle-Calder was there, too. Do you want the three of them catching you not resting? If I were you, I'd at least pretend to be asleep. Otherwise, in addition to whatever ails you, there's a lecture in your very near future. Maybe three.” He fake-squinted at the door. “I think I see them coming now.”

Red was no fool. He beat it. Drake shook his head and laughed sympathetically as he finished grooming the horse. He left a note for Ryder to clean the tack room when he got home from school; it was going to be good when the kid was out of school for the summer, because he did a great job with the smaller chores. Slater was teaching him how to ride, Drake was teaching him how to rope and Mace was teaching him how to shoot. For a city boy, he was catching on, too, and roping a calf when you hadn't been riding long wasn't all that easy. The first few times, the horse went one way and the kid went another and bit the dust, but he was getting the hang of it.

Drake glanced at his phone and saw that it was time to go over to Jim Galloway's. He probably smelled like horse with more than a hint of manure mixed in, but Jim wouldn't mind that one bit.

Jim and Pauline lived in a neat little house in town, perfect for two people, with tidy flower beds out front and a fenced backyard for their dogs. Jim looked younger since he'd married his second wife and won his battle with cancer, and he was grinning when he answered the door. “So you're getting married, eh? That's almost as fast as me when I met Pauline. What are you trying to do, beat my record? Pauline and I got hitched practically the moment we met. Hey, I have a request. Could you play the Texas two-step at the reception? My wife's one hell of a dancer.”

How had Jim found out? Was that just a lucky guess?

He
hadn't told anyone. That meant Luce had, which he doubted, or his mother had figured it out. Maybe Mrs. A-C had looked in her crystal ball. Oh, yeah, Red had known Luce was in his bed the night before...

Anyway, he wasn't going to lie to Jim. He admitted, “We've talked about it. I don't think I'll be part of the entertainment committee, but I'll be sure to mention your request. Now, let's go see this bull.”

Jim climbed amiably into the truck. “I'm not going to say he's easy to handle. Sherman's moody, too, so you know how to deal with that. Impressive animal. I went and took a look at him before I called you.”

“You didn't need to do that.”

“I have time on my hands now, so it was a pleasure to pretend I was still running a ranch, even for an afternoon. He's a dandy.”

“Bloodlines?” Drake shot off some rapid-fire questions about the bull as he started the truck again, got the answers to his questions, and thirty minutes later, they pulled into the yard.

Jim's friend Mike Gorman was old-school, with overalls and a bald head, and it was clear that he assessed Drake before he nodded and they walked over to the fenced pasture. He liked that. The man wasn't going to give this animal away to just anyone.

“He's a handful,” Mike said, keeping it short and sweet. “He'll get the job done and he'll tone down some as he gets a few years on him. No one wants a lazy bull. I named him Tobias, but you can call him whatever you want.”

The price was reasonable, and Drake couldn't argue. This was a beautiful creature. He wrote a check then and there, because both he and Red trusted Jim's judgment. They hashed out the details for getting Tobias to his new home, and when they got back into the truck to head for Mustang Creek, Drake was feeling decent about life. The mountain lion was going to be handled, he'd solved the bull problem and Luce had said yes. If Mrs. A-C's ridiculous idea actually worked out, things were looking up.

His phone beeped and he pressed the button that let him talk hands-free. “Yep?”

It was Tripp. “You buy that bull from old Gorman?”

“Sure did.”

“My dad's a traitor. I kind of had my eye on it.”

“Son, I can hear you.” Jim was chortling. “I'm right here. You waited a shade too long, that's all.”

Tripp muttered something they couldn't catch, but then he laughed. “So I'm talking to both of you? Since you're there, Dad, I'm supposed to tell you that whatever you're having for dinner tonight, Pauline isn't going to cook it. You choose the place, but you're taking her out. And via Melody to Hadleigh, I'm supposed to tell Drake the ring is ready and he can pick it up whenever. Why
I'm
expected to have time to relay all these messages is a mystery to me, because I'm watching the baby right now and that's no picnic. I'd rather be herding ornery cows.”

“Ring? What ring?” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Drake felt he already knew the answer to that question.

“The one your mother ordered for you. Damn, I smell something suspicious. This diaper needs changing... Gotta go. Drake, see you on poker night. Dad, take Pauline someplace nice.”

Jim looked as if he was going to burst out laughing as the call ended. “Don't tell me. You didn't know about the ring?”

“No.” Drake felt like laughing, too, but his laughter would've had an edge to it.

“You've been corralled. Blythe Carson's always been a woman who gets things done.”

He'd be more annoyed, but truthfully, his mother had probably done him a favor. She'd have a much better sense of what Luce might want in a ring than he did.

He wanted a companion on evening rides. He wanted to see her smile, to hear the passion in her voice when she argued with him, to touch her, to taste her kiss, to imagine their children laughing and playing.

So all he said was “You're finding this way too funny. I guess after I drop you off, I need to go pick up a ring.”

Jim agreed with a cheerful grin. “I guess you do, son.”

* * *

L
UCE
BIT
HER
lower lip, thought about the sentence she'd just written, then went back and erased it.

She sat with her laptop on the front porch, since Blythe was out running errands. Violet was in the kitchen with Harry, but Harold had hobbled over and was keeping her company, sleeping at her feet. She found it touching that he was guarding her for Drake, even though he could barely get up.

She'd come to Wyoming to gather information, and now she had far more than she needed. The dissertation was getting harder to write as she went; there was a lot of ground to cover.