Always a Cowboy (23 page)

Meeting her parents in person, prior to the wedding, seemed more important to Drake than it was to her, but she thought she understood his reasons. Like his brothers, he'd been raised rough-and-tumble, but with very good manners.

This, she suspected, was what he thought his father would want him to do. It touched her heart, the realization that he still missed Zeke Carson, after all these years, still cared about doing what would be the right thing in his eyes.

She spoke softly. “Your dad would be wildly proud of you no matter what.”

Drake didn't respond to that. “Can Beth manage to get your folks to the airfield or not?” he asked.

That was truly a laughable question. “Beth's been twisting Dad around her little finger, as they say, since the day she was born. It's impressive to watch her in action. My mother and I just look at each other and shake our heads. Dad's no fool. He knows exactly what she's up to, but he can't say no.”

“Talk to her. Choose a date for the wedding. I'll see what I can work out on this end.”

They'd have a romantic story to tell their children, that was for sure. “I'll call her as soon as we get back.”

He squinted at the sky. “Speaking of which, we'd better start back. I'm not Red, but it smells like rain to me and there are clouds rolling in. Looks like a spring storm brewing up there. You think you can handle a slightly faster pace?”

Luce nodded, trying to ignore the small flicker of panic. “I'm going to have to sooner or later, I suppose.”

They almost made it before the rain came. When he lifted her from her horse, they were both laughing and soaking wet. Drake didn't let her go but smoothed her damp hair away from her face and kissed her. He said, “You did well, cowgirl. While we wait for the rain to stop, I'll show you how to unsaddle your horse and brush her down.”

Facetiously, she answered, “I'm not sure California girls do that.”

“If I'm not mistaken, you're about to become a Wyoming girl. Now, pay attention, and if you catch on right quick, I might even help you out of your wet clothes when we get into the house.”

Would she ever be able to resist that sexy smile? Somehow she doubted it. “You have a deal, cowboy.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

T
HEY
WERE
EXACTLY
three minutes behind schedule when the plane touched down and taxied across the tarmac. In Drake's opinion, traveling by private jet beat the commercial airlines anytime—no security hassles, no lost baggage and no layover. The flight had been smooth, due to a high pressure system coming in, and the turnaround would be quick.

It had taken the better part of a week to coordinate everybody's schedules, but he considered it well worth the time and effort.

Luce's sister and father had arrived in a high-end luxury car that had a pedigree that would've impressed the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. His own truck regularly smelled like dried mud and horse, but no one needed to know that, since he had just flown in on a private plane. He'd opted for a regular shirt and slacks, and to his surprise, Luce had told him to go change.

“Be yourself,” she'd said before they left the house. “Wear jeans and boots. Drake, you're comfortable with who you are. That's really all that matters. My parents will respect that. It won't be news to them that you live on a ranch.”

So he kept the nice shirt and gratefully exchanged the slacks and loafers for jeans and boots.

Takeoff was a little turbulent, but Tripp had mentioned it might be. They flew out of it quickly and the trip was smooth from that point on. Luce didn't talk much, but he sensed that she was nervous.

Once they disembarked, Luce rushed across the tarmac to hug a woman who had to be her mother, given the resemblance. Mrs. Hale was expensively dressed in a long white silk shirt and dark pants, her blond hair cut at chin level. Dangling earrings, high heels and a fancy leather handbag completed the overall image of sophistication. There was a second woman, Luce's sister no doubt, a much younger version of the first.

Both were delighted to see Luce, and there was a lot of happy chatter.

Luce, in comparison to her mother and sister, was different, more the outdoors type.

Perfect in every way, in Drake's opinion.

Mr. Hale waited, benignly patient, for his turn to greet the prodigal daughter. He was distinguished-looking, but clearly good-natured, too. Once he'd greeted Luce, the older man met Drake's eyes. They assessed each other in silence for a moment.

Then Drake stepped forward and put out his hand. “I'm Drake Carson,” he said.

“John Hale,” Luce's father responded, his voice reserved but cordial. “This is my wife, Dorothy, and our other daughter, Beth.”

Drake smiled, shook each woman's hand.

“We've met before,” Dorothy Hale said with a sparkle in her eyes. “You probably don't remember, since you and your brothers were small the last time I visited Blythe—not even in school yet, if I remember correctly.”

Drake didn't know what to say to that. The whole situation felt awkward and a little contrived, and he began to wish he'd taken Luce's suggestion and introduced himself by phone or over Skype.

“I've never had the pleasure,” Luce's dad said cordially. “Luce speaks very highly of you, though, and God knows we both think the world of your mother.”

Luce must have sensed Drake's discomfort, because she hooked her arm through his and leaned against him. “Dad, Mom—this is all about telling you, live and in person, even though you already know that Drake's asked me to marry him and I've said yes.”

Drake wasn't the nervous sort, but for some reason, everything he'd planned to say had gone right out of his head. He did some mental scrambling and then said, “I love your daughter very much.”

“I can see that,” Mr. Hale said with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I take it you flew all the way here to talk to us about this?” He smiled warmly. “We appreciate that, son.” He paused to look around the airfield for a few minutes. “Your method seems a little unorthodox, which makes me think this was Luce's idea. And Beth's.” His gaze swept from one daughter to the other, full of affection, and Mrs. Hale gave a soft laugh. “I don't know why women can't do things in a straightforward way, just call up and break the news, or come to the house. They like drama, I guess.”

Drake relaxed a little, but not completely. He didn't give a damn what people thought of him, but he wanted the Hales to understand that he would be good to Luce, always. “I realize you don't know much about me, but—”

“I know your family,” John broke in, “and your mother and Dorothy are close. Your grandfather's a longtime friend of ours, as well—how is George, anyway? It must have been a blow when your grandmother died.”

Drake felt a pang of sorrow, thinking of his grandmother, dead some ten years now. He knew his grandfather missed his wife every moment of every day, but the old man was determined to carry on and ran his California vineyard with the energy and ambition of a much younger man. “He keeps busy and visits the ranch when he can,” he said, and his voice came out sounding hoarse.

Mrs. Hale hadn't said much before then, but now she spoke up. Cut right to the chase. “We know our daughters are both smart, sensible young women, Drake. If Luce wants to marry you, and if you're anything like your mother and grandfather, you're a fine human being. You certainly have our blessing.”

“Do I get to say anything?” Beth demanded good-naturedly.

Everyone smiled.

“Be our guest,” John Hale said with a gesture of one hand.

“My sister is a catch,” Beth said pleasantly, but in a direct way, “and if you treat her well, I'll be the best sister-in-law ever. If you don't, I'll be your worst nightmare.”

Drake laughed, liking Beth, as he liked Mr. and Mrs. Hale. “Duly noted,” he said.

John Hale slapped Drake on the shoulder. “Good luck, young man,” he said. Then, kissing Luce, he added, “To you, too, sweetheart.”

Mrs. Hale was smiling and crying a little at the same time. “I wish you could stay with us awhile, both of you,” she said. “We have a lot of planning to do, Luce. It's not every day a person's daughter gets married.”

Behind them, Tripp fired up the airplane's engine, and the props began to turn.

“We've got lots of things to do back at Mustang Creek,” Luce said, not quite meeting her mother's eyes. “Drake runs the ranch, you know, and I'm still working on my research project.”

“Lucinda can be a bit of a handful,” Mr. Hale said with another fatherly smile at Luce. “It's only fair to warn you.”

Drake smiled. “She'll keep my life interesting, anyway.”

“I can hear what you're saying, both of you,” Luce said in lilting tones. Her beautiful eyes sparkled with exaggerated affront. She rose up on tiptoe and kissed her mother, then her father, on the cheek. “Thanks for that, Dad,” she teased.

“I hate goodbyes,” Dorothy said, blotting her eyes with a tissue. “I'll just wait in the car.”

“Women,” said John, but tenderly.

“We really have to get back,” Luce said.

Beth hugged her. “Come back when you can stay longer, sis,” she said. Then she smiled, stood on tiptoe and kissed Drake's cheek. “Take care of my sister, cowboy,” she told him in parting, “and nobody will get hurt.” With that, she followed her mother.

Drake put his arm around Luce's shoulders, gave her a gentle squeeze and extended a hand to his future father-in-law. “I don't have a lot of experience with father-daughter moments,” he said, “but this sure looks like one to me, so I'll leave you to it.”

John Hale's grip was firm and friendly. “We'll see you again soon,” he said.

Drake nodded, caught and held Luce's eyes for a moment. She nodded back, and he turned and walked back toward the plane, where Tripp was overseeing the refueling process.

“Dad?” Luce said, full of love and benevolent desperation in her voice. “Will you do something for me? Will you please remind Mom that we really and truly want the wedding to be ultrasimple, so she shouldn't go too crazy planning the reception?”

She knew Beth had filled their parents in on the dates and the general plan and would help in Luce's campaign to keep the festivities out of overdrive, but getting her dad on board was important, too.

“Will I at least get to walk you down the aisle?” He asked the question lightly, with a smile in his eyes. Luce knew her answer mattered to this man who had always been a good father to her and to Beth, and a devoted husband to their mother.

She hugged him again, hard. Let her head rest against his strong shoulder for a moment, remembering. Appreciating. And, most of all, loving. “Of course you will, Dad,” she assured him, looking up into his kind, strong face. “Although it might be more of a path than an aisle.” They both smiled at that. “It's just that, well, for Drake and me, this wedding isn't about one day, it's about setting the tone for our whole future, our marriage.” She paused. “And you know me, Dad, I've never been the lace-and-flounces type, have I? That was Beth's department, and when she got married, as you recall, Mom planned, organized and fussed to her heart's content.”

Her dad smiled again, a bit wistfully, and shook his head. “I understand, sweetheart. And your mother will, too, with a little convincing. Don't waste a moment worrying about us, because we're on your side. This is your day, and Drake's, and we'll respect that.”

“Thank you,” Luce said.

He kissed her forehead. “Just be happy,” he told her gruffly. “And remember, we love you.”

Luce's eyes stung with sudden tears. “And I love you, Dad. You and Mom and Beth.”

Holding her shoulders in a gentle grip, her dad looked past her, to Drake and the waiting airplane and probably the years ahead. “Let us know when you get back to Mustang Creek,” he said. “Your mother will be anxious until she's sure you're back on solid ground.”

“I'll send a text,” Luce promised. Then, with a wave toward the car, where her mother and sister waited, and a soft goodbye for her dad, she turned, seeking and finding Drake, walking toward him.

Toward all they would do and be and have together.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A
S
L
UCE
WAS
to discover over the dizzying course of the next ten days, there was her definition of
simple
—and then there was the Blythe Carson–Dorothy Hale version.

Dorothy and Beth, baby in tow, arrived in Mustang Creek barely a week after the hasty airfield conference, full of happy plans.

Luce, though slightly wary, was thrilled to see her mother, sister and infant nephew.

Dorothy and Blythe hugged and cried and laughed, and they were still chattering long after everyone else had retired that first night.

Luce tried to sleep—upcoming wedding notwithstanding, she was still searching for the herd of wild horses every day, albeit without success, and she'd been spending hours on her research notes, as well. She needed her rest.

Still, knowing her sister and tiny nephew were just down the hall, Luce couldn't lie still long enough to close her eyes, let alone drop off into sweet slumber.

So, barefoot and wearing pajamas, she tiptoed toward that particular guest room, blushing a little as she passed Drake's closed door.

Alas, there would be no private slumber party tonight, not with Luce's mother in the house, huge as it was. She consoled herself with the reminder that soon enough Drake's room would be her room, too.

Reaching Beth's door, Luce rapped lightly, hoping her sister hadn't already gone to sleep. Motherhood, according to Beth, was strenuous business, and the day had been a busy one.

“In,” Beth called quietly. For a moment, it seemed to Luce, time shifted, and she and her sister were girls again, meeting in one of their bedrooms to whisper and giggle and, sometimes, commiserate over a boy or a bad grade or being grounded.

Luce stepped willingly into the time warp.

Beth had just gotten the baby to sleep in the antique cradle hauled over from Slater and Grace's part of the house for his use.

She smiled at Luce and held an index finger to her lips.

Luce smiled and nodded and crept over to admire the sleeping infant. His name was Ben, and he looked downright cherubic lying there, his downy hair fluffing out, his lashes resting lush on his plump little cheeks.

Luce's heart swelled with love for this child and, naturally, she thought of the babies she and Drake would have.

Was it even possible to sustain the kind of happiness she was feeling now?

Probably not, she supposed. Like everyone else, she and Drake would have their ups and downs, but the core of their relationship was solid and lasting, and that was what counted.

She and Beth moved to sit, side by side, on the edge of the bed, speaking in near whispers.

“Okay,” Luce began, “let's have it. Is Mom here to see her best friend and help with the preparations, or is she planning a full-scale assault on my wedding plans?”

Beth smiled, took Luce's hand and squeezed it gently. “We're here because you're getting married, and we want to be with you. I think Dad and I have been fairly successful in persuading Mom not to go all Martha Stewart, though I can't guarantee she and Mrs. Carson aren't plotting a takeover even as we speak.”

Luce shook her head, but she was smiling as she returned Beth's hand-squeeze. “Whatever happens, I'm so glad you're here. Mom, too, of course.”

“Dad and Liam will be here the day of,” Beth said. Liam was her husband. “In the meantime, Mom and I just want to be part of the process.” She made a cross-my-heart motion with one hand. “We'll behave, I promise.”

Luce laughed, very softly. “Who are you,” she joked, “and what have you done with my sister?”

Beth stifled a giggle, à la the old days, when they were teenagers with silly secrets. And her eyes shone as she gazed at Luce. “I'm so happy for you, sis.”

Luce teared up briefly and gave Beth a one-armed hug. “Thanks, Bethie. That means a lot to me.”

They sat in silence for a little while, just being sisters, side by side, shoulders touching.

Then, with a faux wince, Beth ventured, “You do know about the wedding shower, right? I hope I'm not blowing a big surprise.”

“I suspected something was up,” Luce admitted, pleased in spite of her no-fuss policy. “I've caught Grace and Harry and Blythe whispering a few times, among other hints.”

“So you've made friends here?”

“I haven't had much spare time,” Luce answered, “but, yes, I've been meeting new people right and left. Hadleigh, Melody and Bex—they're married to Drake's closest friends—have been great to me. Being neighborly is very big in Mustang Creek.”

“Good,” Beth said. “I love my husband, but the older I get, the more I cherish my girlfriend time.”

Another silence followed, contented and reflective. Again, and typically, Beth was the one to break it.

“Okay, so I do have one question,” she said.

“Shoot,” Luce responded.

“What about your PhD, and your plans to teach? It's none of my business, I know, and yet—”

“And yet it is,” Luce said. “You're my big sister, after all. The answer is, I may modify my plans a little, at least at first, but I'm definitely going forward with the original idea.”

“Where would you teach? Is there a college in Mustang Creek?”

“A community college,” Luce replied, “with a very good chance of upgrading to a four-year institution in the next few years. They've already approached me about establishing an ecology program this fall, in cooperation with the high school, and that means I can teach while I finish my graduate work.”

“And what does Drake think?”

Luce smiled and patted her sister's hand. “He's all for it. Drake is as committed to the environment as I am, if not more so, and I'm counting on his input when I start my syllabus.”

Beth fairly beamed. “Wow,” she said. “The man is not only hot, he's progressive.”

Luce laughed. “I wouldn't go that far. Drake's hot, all right, but progressive?” She shook her head, still amused. “When he decides to dig in his heels, he can be incredibly stubborn, and some of his ideas are distinctly old-fashioned.”

“Examples, please, little sister.”

“Well, he can be overprotective. He opens doors and tips his hat and says ‘Ma'am' when he speaks to a woman over fifty. He stands when any female enters a room and won't hear of going Dutch.”

Beth made a mock-sympathetic face. “Poor you,” she said.

“Yeah,” Luce agreed happily. “Poor me.”

Beth yawned then and, since yawns are catchy, Luce did, too. The sisters exchanged good-nights, and Luce went back to her room.

This time, she had no trouble falling asleep.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
FEW
days
were busy ones. Luce saw little of Drake, but this only ratcheted up the anticipation, and when they were together, invisible fireflies lit the atmosphere between them.

As it turned out, literally every woman in Mustang Creek had been invited to the wedding shower, held in the community center, and there was a capacity crowd. By Blythe's decree, and much to Luce's agreement, nobody brought gifts; the gathering was meant to be a getting-acquainted celebration, and it was certainly that and more.

Although the no-gifts rule was observed, it apparently didn't apply to food. Luce had never seen so many cakes, pies, cookies and casseroles supplementing the catered spread. There was plenty of wine—Mace's label, of course—as well as lemonade and punch and that small-town specialty, two large urns of coffee, regular and decaffeinated.

Luce was absolutely dazzled; Melody, Hadleigh and Bex had hung streamers, and there were flowers everywhere.

Luce had a wonderful time, as did her mother and sister, though with all those new faces, she began to wish someone had passed out name tags.

The event lasted some three hours, and Luce was dizzy by the end, feeling fully welcome in her new community. There was still a great deal of food, but the women of Mustang Creek were prepared; they'd brought plastic containers of all sorts along, and they filled every one to the brim.

Much of it would be eaten later that same day, since, once a week, the community center offered free meals to anyone who showed up. By design, tonight was the night. The remainder of the largesse, mostly desserts, would be taken to the town's two nursing homes as a treat for the residents.

Luce treasured the prospect of friendship with these women, and their generosity, to the less fortunate members of the community as well as to her, was a memory she would hold in her heart forever.

* * *

W
HEN
THEIR
WEDDING
DAY
finally arrived, Luce was in a strange, blissful state, and for the first time, she understood what the old cliché about walking on air really meant.

Blythe and Dorothy had done their best to restrain themselves, but only so much could be expected of the mothers of the bride and groom.

The spacious yard behind the ranch house glittered in the twilight when everyone gathered for the ceremony. Colorful Chinese lanterns glowed in the branches of the maple and oak trees, the rented folding chairs had bows affixed to their backs and a three-piece mini orchestra had set up in the gazebo.

There was an abundance of food, as there had been at the shower a few days before, but Luce knew not a scrap would be wasted. Once again the leftovers would be shared; this time two local churches had agreed to package what remained and deliver meals to every shut-in in town.

When all was ready, the ceremony began.

Luce wore a simple, ankle-length dress of white eyelet over a silky fabric; Drake, a dark suit that flattered his cowboy frame in a whole new way. The small orchestra played quietly.

Luce's father, recently arrived, proudly escorted the bride to the rose arbor serving as an altar, where Beth waited, beaming, bouquet in hand.

Drake, with his brothers at his side, stood tall and proud and impossibly handsome, facing the Carson family's longtime minister.

“Who gives this woman in marriage?” the pastor asked.

“Her mother and I,” answered the father of the bride in a clear voice. Before returning to his seat in the front row, next to Dorothy, Blythe and a happily weepy Harry, he bent his head and kissed Luce gently on the cheek.

The vows were made, the rings were exchanged and Drake and Luce were pronounced husband and wife.

Drake's kiss was long and deep, and when it ended, the guests applauded and cheered, and he whispered mischievously, “There's something to be said for starting off on the right foot, so to speak.”

And Luce laughed for joy.

* * *

A
S
MUCH
AS
D
RAKE
loved his family and friends, there were times, during the picture-taking and the cake-eating and the exuberant congratulations, that he wished they'd all vanish, temporarily of course, into some parallel universe, so that he could be alone with his wife.

It seemed to him that the fussing and the eating and the making of toasts would never end. Drake choked up as he watched his bride and her father share the first waltz.

God, Luce was so beautiful.

And she was his wife.

When it was his turn to dance with the bride, Drake forgot everything but the way it felt to hold this woman in his arms, to see her smiling up at him, her eyes alight.

Eventually, the long-awaited cue came. Slater gave the prearranged signal to take Luce and slip away—a raised fist.

Finally, finally, the honeymoon could begin.

Drake grabbed Luce and led her to the refurbished buckboard awaiting them. Red was at the reins, all spiffed up in his best suit, reserved for weddings and funerals, and grinning from one ear to the other. He jumped down, nimble for a man of his age, and watched proudly as Drake lifted Luce up into the seat, then followed, taking the place Red had occupied.

There were more cheers and good wishes, and then Mr. and Mrs. Drake Carson were on their way.

The honeymoon would be an unconventional one, Drake supposed, at least in terms of location, but it was exactly what both he and Luce wanted.

Earlier in the day, with the help of his brothers, Drake had set up a tent in the private spot where he and Luce had made love the first time. A campfire was laid, and there were fancy provisions, but just then, Drake didn't care if he ever ate again.

Luce sat close, leaning against him, her arm hooked through his.

“I can still arrange for a hotel, if you've changed your mind,” he told her, raising his voice a little to be heard over the two-horse team and the creaking harnesses.

“Not a chance,” Luce said. “This is perfect.”

The words proved prophetic.

When they reached the campsite, the tent, just big enough for an air mattress equipped with a double sleeping bag, glowed like a palace in the star-spangled moonlight.

For a touch of elegance, there was a small portable picnic table, so they wouldn't have to eat breakfast sitting on the ground. If they ever got around to breakfast, that is.

Luce drew in an audible breath. “Oh, Drake,” she whispered. “This is lovely!”

Her pleasure was his pleasure, and not just in bed.

Drake secured the wagon's brake lever, wrapped the reins loosely around it and climbed down. When he reached for Luce, she wrapped her arms around him and slid her body along the length of his as she descended.

He kissed her, long and hard and deep.

“Happy?” he asked when he caught his breath.

She smiled. “Yes,” she replied, “and about to be a whole lot happier still.”

Drake laughed and swatted her lightly on that delectable backside of hers.

“Like any good frontier husband,” he said, “I've got to look after the horses before I can do anything else.”