Always a Cowboy (22 page)

She was about to give it another try when her phone beeped. A text from Beth.
I swear I didn't tell.

What did
that
mean?

She typed back,
Clarify?

Operation Wedding has begun.

Luce blew out a breath of frustration. She believed Beth, and she knew Blythe would keep her word and hadn't said anything. So that meant her mother was evidently jumping to conclusions—the correct conclusions.

At that moment, Drake pulled in, parked his truck, and Harold barked in greeting, then settled back down. He rested his head on her foot.

“So
she's
your new best friend?” Drake came up the steps looking accusingly at his dog, but he smiled. “Well, Harold, here's a poorly kept secret. I like her, too.”

“It isn't a secret at all,” Luce informed him drily, although she felt the same way about Harold. “I have to tell you something. My mother seems to know about the engagement. She didn't hear it from me, or from my sister
or
your mother. Oh, and Blythe's already booked our flights for the anniversary party.”

He was quiet, obviously thinking it through. “Okay,” he said finally. “That's not ideal, but we'll work with it.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Harold's choosy about the people he keeps company with. You ought to be flattered.”

She definitely was.

“He can sleep on my foot anytime he likes.” She studied Drake in silence for a few minutes. “The life of a cowboy,” she mused. “Mind if I use that for the title of my dissertation? Part of the title, anyway.”

“You creative types,” he replied. “You sound like Slate. He'll throw out a title for one of his movies and wait for reactions. Says he prefers first impressions.” He sat down across the table, appropriated her glass of lemonade and drained it in a single gulp.

Luce didn't mind at all. They were going to be good together. He'd never pressure her, and she wasn't interested in changing him. Oh, he could use a few nudges here and there—everyone could—but a sexy cowboy had been on her life wish list, and he certainly fit the bill.

“How about ‘The Life of a Cowboy: I Can Only Control What I Can Control'?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Shouldn't there be something in there about nosy graduate students? Let me revamp. ‘I Can Only Control Certain Things in Nature, and Women Are Not Among Them.'”

Luce was really laughing now. His sardonic sense of humor was one of the things she loved about him, even when he was disheveled and smelled like saddle leather and pine forests. She shook her head. “That's a chapter in
The Cowboy Guide to a Successful Relationship
. Stay focused. We're talking about the most important thing I'll ever write.”

“Yeah, guess I forgot for a second there. Let me see if Harry can watch Harold while you and I go for a ride. I've been thinking about Mrs. A-C's suggestion. The valley isn't that far. When we first met, you said you wanted to see it. Besides, I haven't been on a horse all day.”

For him, astounding. Horse deficiency.

She wanted to see the place where the horses wintered, no doubt about it. Luce would've jumped up with alacrity, but Harold's head was firmly planted on her shoe. “Your mother's lending me some boots. I'll go put them on.”

Drake came over to give Harold a reassuring pat and the animal lifted his head. “We'll be waiting right here.”

Luce went to her room, grabbed the boots and tugged them on. They were soft as butter, patterned with horses on the sides and totally comfortable.

Drake nodded in approval when she reappeared. “Nice job, cowgirl.”

She didn't qualify for that title yet, but she was trying. “I'm learning, one day at a time, from a very qualified teacher.”

He elevated his brows and gave her a devilish male grin. “I think you can hold your own. Oh, wait, we're not talking about riding, are we?”

“Watch it, Carson.” She smacked his arm.

He caught her around the waist and pulled her to him. “This being in love business... I'm trying to figure it out and not getting very far.”

“You're trying to make sense of something that doesn't actually make sense.” Luce kissed him with a lingering pressure of her lips on his. “I'm on the same sinking ship.”

“We can drown together.”

“We can do a lot of things together, most of them better than drowning! Now, let's go for a horseback ride. I can tell you need an equine fix.”

He ran his fingers up her arm. “And I can tell you have more confidence.”

“Wait until the first time I fall off!”

“We all take a fall at some point. I've even seen Red bite the dust.”

“You have?” That surprised her.

“Hell, yes.”

It wasn't funny, and yet, somehow, it was. “That old cowboy fell off his horse?”

“Don't ever bring it up.” Drake urged her toward the doorway. “I'd suggest not calling him old, either. He's kind of sensitive on the subject. I've also discovered that it's safer not to tell him he shouldn't do something because then he'll do it just to prove me wrong. So far he's in the winning bracket.”

“I didn't mean old in a bad way.”

“I know. He's a surprisingly sensitive guy about certain things. Oh, have I mentioned that you have to saddle your horse by yourself?”

He hadn't. Well, that was on her list, too. “I was hoping to bribe Ryder to show me how so I could impress you.”

“I'm impressed already. No worries there.”

She could live with that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

S
HE
WAS
AN
apt pupil, if a little out of practice. It didn't hurt that Grace's horse, Molly, was tolerant and patient, which, of course, was why Slater had picked her for his wife.

“Tighten the cinch again,” Drake advised. “Horses are pretty smart. They'll sometimes take a breath and hold it so the saddle's loose when they let it out. Never underestimate an animal's intelligence. She's very amiable, but not all horses are the same. Always check your saddle twice.”

“She's sweet.” Luce stroked her silky neck.

“Remember, you're practicing on this horse, but another one might be totally different. Never presume it's going to go well if you don't know each other.”

Slater's horse, Heck, wouldn't let her within ten feet of him. He was a beautiful horse but gave
feisty
a new meaning. Drake had helped Red break him, and he'd been hell on wheels. Even now, Drake was cautious around him and had ordered Ryder to leave his stall to more experienced hands. Red could do it, but Ryder couldn't handle that animal and he was a head taller than Luce.

“She likes you,” he commented. “Don't get the idea that Smoke would ever allow you to get this close.”

“He already has.”

Drake thought fainting might severely damage his male image, so he didn't.
“What?”

Luce acted nonchalant about it, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. “
He
came up to me. I touched him and that was it. He's as curious about me as I am about him and the rest of the horses. And he knows I'm not there to do them any harm. I don't carry a gun or ride a big horse. I just want to watch them. I walk only so close, and then I sit down and leave them alone as I make notes.”

He actually took off his hat and threw it on the ground. “You
touched
a wild stallion? Are you loco?”

Luce had the nerve to look offended. “Hey, I was sitting there writing and suddenly realized he was right behind me. He sniffed my hair and I held up my hand. Here it is.” She offered Exhibit A, palm up. “He didn't bite it off or anything. He smelled it and went on his way. I'm harmless. Give him credit for knowing that. You've already seen that he's gotten used to me.”

Her logic worked, but she also needed to understand that they weren't talking about the placid mare he'd just helped her saddle. “He's a wild animal, and he's a really big one. Sharp teeth and hooves. There are bigger critters than us he wouldn't hesitate to go after, like that cougar.”

“I didn't go up to him! I turned around and
he
was right there. Like I said, I was focusing on my notes and I had no idea he was so close.”

“You are the greenest greenhorn I've met. That little interaction is exactly why you aren't going anywhere without me.” He retrieved his hat and plopped it on his head.

She considered him through slightly narrowed eyes. “I seem to have survived for lo these twenty-six years. I promise you, negotiating multiple lanes of traffic in LA during rush hour is a lot more dangerous than anything you can serve up here, and I've done that many times. Are you always going to be so dictatorial?”

“I'm going to be protective, you can count on that. Now, get your very enticing behind on that horse and let's go for a relaxing ride. I'm not helping you mount this time. You work that out for yourself.” He did check the saddle very quickly. She'd have to go solo someday, but if he was there, anyway, he might as well make sure she was as safe as possible.

She glared at him. “No problem.”

She did a fair job of it, although part of her success was due to the patient horse. Starburst led the way, Molly followed and Drake was finally able to breathe in a deep lungful of the evening air and relax.

“Next valley over,” he said. “It's a beautiful place, but I've never understood why the original homesteaders chose that spot to settle. The cabin's been there a long, long time. Since shortly after the Civil War. I'm guessing they had sheep, because you can't graze cattle there. I also think that for whatever reason, the guy wanted to be as obscure as he could. Red tells me the legend is that he came to town once a month, bought the essentials—flour, coffee and sugar—but otherwise no one saw him. Everyone thought he had something to hide. Eventually, he stopped showing up and they found the place abandoned, the door still open. No one knows if he went away voluntarily or suffered some severe misfortune. There were no papers besides the deed, but no remains, either.”

“Did anyone else ever live there? Lettie mentioned that the property taxes hadn't been paid in years.”

“Yeah, there was another recluse there for a while, but I don't know much about him. And he was long gone by the time we came along.”

“So the real story is about the original homesteader who mysteriously disappeared...”

“Yeah. Naturally, as kids we rode over, hoping it would be haunted. Unfortunately not. Maybe Slate will get lucky with his cameras. He's putting it in the documentary, and that might help Lettie Arbuckle's plan. If anyone can pull it off, it would be her, but I still think the red tape involved will be prohibitive.”

“There's nothing like a good old-fashioned ghost story to charm a girl.” Luce was easier with the horse now, her hands more relaxed on the reins. “Scary. In a romantic way, I mean.”

“Well, I strive to be ever the romantic. Feel free to fling yourself into my arms anytime.” He glanced over at her. “However...all ghost hunting so far has proved fruitless, so maybe neither of us should get our hopes up.”

“I've flung myself into your arms already—without a ghost.”

“And I loved every minute of it.”

Luce had the best laugh. Light and feminine. “You did?”

“Like you didn't know that.”

The breeze ruffled her hair, and her smile held a hint of mischief. “I might have noticed it. That aside, you really think Mrs. Arbuckle is being too ambitious? I want to be sure I've got all my facts straight.”

Oh, yes, her paper. He rode along, slowly, although he could tell that Starburst would've preferred a faster pace. “Containing the horses isn't going to be simple.”

“Very few things in life are simple, cowboy.”

“A night like this is.” His smile was genuine. “An evening ride with a pretty girl, a fresh breeze, the mountains framing a spectacular sunset... This is a simple joy. Harry said something about steaks for dinner, along with her famous scalloped potatoes. Another simple joy.”

“Is there anything Harry makes that isn't famous?” Luce tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She really was sitting her horse more comfortably, not thinking about it so much.

“No,” he admitted. “Some people are born to create wonderful paintings. Some are destined to compose music that's listened to and admired for centuries. She has a talent for making fantastic food and running a household the way a general might direct a battle plan. It doesn't hurt that she and my mother are like sisters. My mother, to her credit, is willing to step back and let Harry run the show. Harry, to
her
credit, has always kept her nose and her opinions out of any parenting decisions unless asked. I see that now as an adult, but I didn't notice it as a kid. Even when you asked her directly, tried to get her involved, she'd say, ‘I think that needs to be settled between you and your mother.' She wasn't opposed to letting any of us know if we were out of line, but she didn't meddle.”

“And when she was finished telling you to smarten up, she gave you a cookie.” Luce smiled.

“Usually,” he agreed, since she was right. “Or two. Sometimes a slice of pie if Mace didn't get there first. He's quite the chowhound.”

“My impression is that he works as hard as you and Slater do, so that might be the secret to the male Carson persona. Hard work, which equals being perpetually hungry.”

“My dad was no slouch, either.” He pointed. “The only real entrance to the valley is that narrow corridor up ahead. That's problem one for Lottie's relocation plan.”

* * *

T
HE
VALLEY
WAS
as beautiful as Drake had promised.

Steep, green, with a meandering stream running through, it was sheltered by a towering rock wall to one side. Luce immediately thought that if solitude was what you wanted, this would be the place to go. There wasn't a dramatic mountain view, but there was plenty of privacy.

No wonder Smoke brought his band of horses here for the winter. The storms coming in from the west probably didn't hit this spot as fiercely. She'd run the weather models when she'd embarked on this scientific journey, doing her best to understand how the habitat worked.

She wasn't entirely joking when she said, “I see why people might think this place is haunted. It feels strange, a bit surreal.”

The cabin itself was decrepit, a relic of the long-gone past. The ancient logs and a rickety front porch had started to deteriorate, but the chimney looked sound, and there were the ruins of a barn. The last time someone had lived here was more than a few decades ago.

Drake didn't disagree with her. “It's a hidden gem. That makes Mrs. A-C's plan both good and bad. People will love that deserted old cabin and the grazing wild horses, but getting them in here is almost impossible if they aren't riding. There's no road, and I don't want one. It would have to go across Carson property.”

“It doesn't have to be a road,” Luce reasoned. “Maybe just a trail—a ride to a haunted valley. Toss in a visit to the vineyard, and you'll really have something.” She paused, her mind moving at warp speed. “Do you see the state agreeing to open a park? I don't know how these things work.”

He'd relaxed visibly, out there in the open spaces. The thought of Drake Carson walking into a corporate office for a meeting was practically incomprehensible; he was meant for
this
life. Glimmering Western sunsets and the soft whisper of the breeze ruffling the aspen leaves—that suited him so much better than skyscrapers and concrete ever could.

Luce was starting to feel that maybe it was the same for her.

He shrugged, his answer carefully considered, as usual. “I suggest we wait to see what Lettie finds out,” he began. “That woman knows how to get things done.” He smiled, the wind ruffling his hair. “She reminds me of my mother, but with a lot less tact. They're quite a team—one of them will pour you a cup of tea and, while you're distracted, the other will run over you with a bulldozer. In any case, they almost always get whatever they're after.”

In Luce's admittedly limited experience, that assessment was dead-on.

“Big, strong men should step back, huh?”

“Big, strong men should run for their lives.” Drake grinned. “You do realize you fall into the same category as my mother and Lettie. The Unstoppable Female.”

She silenced him by holding up one hand. “Pardon my grammar, but you ain't seen nothin' yet, cowpoke. Wait until you meet my sister and mother. Whoa, you're going to be in for an experience.” She pretended to assess his appearance. “You might have to get your hair cut,” she speculated.

He looked endearingly perplexed. “My hair? What's wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing, as far as
I'm
concerned, but Mom and Beth are big on making people over. Watch out, that's all I'm saying. If you don't, you might find yourself in a Beverly Hills salon, getting highlights or a spray tan.”

“That'll be the day,” he drawled.

“Oh, it's very LA,” she told him solemnly. “Guys even get facials.”

“Not this guy, ma'am.”

“I'm joking,” she said. “Beth and my mom wouldn't dream of trying to improve you.” She erupted into laughter. “Not that I'm saying you're perfect or anything.”

Drake gave her a mock glare, then he laughed, too. A moment later, his expression was somber again. “Listen, couldn't we just get married at the ranch? Say, on the ridge where you and I first met? A minister and a few witnesses, and we're in business. Mace and Slater could be there, and Slater's crew could take the pictures. Sound good?” He didn't wait for her answer, which was convenient, because she didn't have one ready. “That way, you'll have a wedding and I'll survive the ceremony and the reception. We can feed each other cake and fly out for our honeymoon.”

Actually, Luce rather liked the idea of a simple, rustic wedding. She wasn't really the fuss-and-ruffles type, though she did want the day to be special. Not quite as “special” as their mothers were gearing up for, however. “Do you mean it, Drake? Because if you do, my sister would come out here in a heartbeat to be my maid of honor.”

“Oh, believe me, I mean it.”

If there was one thing she knew about Drake, it was that he said what he thought and thought about what he said; his opinions were never unconsidered. So she did the same. “I'm in favor of something romantic, memorable and uncomplicated,” she said honestly.

He brightened. “You are?”

“Sure.” Luce nodded. She was fairly certain her mother would be disappointed; Dorothy Hale was probably planning an event more appropriate to the gardens of Buckingham Palace than the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. Her father wouldn't be a problem, and Beth would be on her side.

Their special day would be lovely.

“I know you wanted to meet Mom and Dad before the news got out,” she went on. “We could call them, if you like.”

“Or,” he countered, “we could see if Tate Calder or Tripp Galloway can find the time to fly us out there to pick up your sister. Think she could talk your folks into taking her to the airfield? That way, at least, I could shake hands with your dad and give your mom a chance to look me over, make sure I don't have three heads or anything.”