Once a Rancher (22 page)

Grace hugged Red again, but this time in relief and pure joy. Slater was beginning to feel a little neglected.

“I've been busy,” Drake was saying. “Another missing calf, running a ranch, brother getting married...the usual stuff...” He rambled on, and he wasn't a rambler by any means. Then, to make the day even more interesting, he added in disgust, “Mace deserves the credit. He remembered the Bliss County fair was due to start today because Harry always wins with that pie he likes. Remember how he shamelessly hogged the whole damn thing when she made it the first time? He ate an
entire
pie. She's won, like, five years in a row. Finally his overactive pie-hole did someone a favor.”

Slater started laughing and had to choke out the words. “Bring Ryder here, please. Grace needs to see with her own eyes that he's safe.”

“Hell, no,” Drake said, his refusal firm. “They're about to start the qualifying in his age group. I'm telling you, he's got a shot if that horse is as good as it's supposed to be. Get over here and cheer him on.”

From hell to heaven. Plus, everyone would love it if Ryder qualified. “We'll be there as quickly as we can make it.”

“Well, we'll all be here.”

He ended the call and pointed at Red. “County Fair Grounds. You've been coaching him, haven't you? The kid's there. If Ryder qualifies, maybe someday Grace will forgive you.”

Red looked about as guilty as he ever did, which was not at all. He muttered, “I don't study the calendar and didn't remember the fair was this week. All that happened was he asked me if I thought he should try it someday. I said he should. For a beginner, he's pretty good. Got the hang of it right away. Besides, you know I always say if you don't try for something, you won't get it.”

“I'll bump beers with you later, since he seems to be safe. You and Grace and I are headed out to make sure that's true, although I do trust Drake and Mace.”

“You should.” Red looked affronted. “Those two ruffians are like oil and vinegar, but they're protective enough of Ryder that they'd charge into a buffalo stampede to save him.”

Grace stared at them as if they'd both lost their minds. But at least she had a faint smile on her lips. “Buffalo stampede? I assume that's a thing of the past, even around here.”

“Red's watched too many old Westerns.” Slater took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Come on, let's go—right after I call off the search.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

S
HE
WAS
TRYING
not to be too elated, but the nightmare had lifted like a fog evaporating over a cold lake, and Grace couldn't believe the surly teenage boy who'd suddenly become her responsibility was whooping it up as the finalists were announced.

She'd seen Ryder in just about every mood possible, but joyous was rare.

She tapped Slater on the shoulder as they sat in the bleachers. “Isn't roping a calf hard to learn?”

His blue eyes flashed with humor. “I'm not sure. I think I was about five the first time I did it. In the Carson family it's sort of like potty-training. You do that at a certain age, you learn to ride next and then you learn to rope a calf. Daisy's quite good at it, too, but Ryder really caught on fast for someone who was raised in the city. He understands animals, so maybe you should nudge him toward a profession that involves a special talent like that. He's too big to be a jockey, but what about horse-training? You can make a decent living at it.”

It wasn't on the usual list of professions, with doctor, lawyer and architect. But Ryder had warmed up to the environment at the ranch with more enthusiasm than anything in his life so far. “He's still so young,” she murmured, “but it's a thought. He seems happy. Just don't suggest rodeo as a profession, okay?”

He slipped his arm around her waist. “You're in charge. I'm impressed that he pulled it off. Honestly, Grace, he just learned how to ride a horse!”

Slater was as elated as any proud father. No wonder she'd fallen in love with him.

For that matter, Drake, Mace and, of course, Red were all taking credit. Then the scores were announced—with Ryder getting an honorable mention, to tumultuous applause. But to Grace, his success was secondary to the fact that he was
there
, in her line of vision, safe and sound.

She could finally lose the tightness in her throat. Maybe her blood pressure would return to normal in the next few hours.

Hank was lucky he wasn't anywhere close by.

And the thing was, she knew he hadn't done it on purpose. That was just typical Hank. It obviously hadn't occurred to him to mention it in his note. It wouldn't have occurred to him to come and watch his son participate in this event, either. She tried to picture him at a rodeo and found she didn't have enough imagination for that one.

However, she couldn't complain about the tight-knit Carson family. Everyone had been willing to bring their busy lives to a halt, willing to pitch in and help, and that moved her. “Dinner at the ranch, instead?” Slater's expression was sympathetic. “You still look pretty shaken, and everyone will want to celebrate with Ryder. Or would you prefer some peace and quiet? Either way is fine.”

Slater was right; she wasn't very interested in cooking at the moment, even something fairly simple. “Harry won't mind?”

“We've been through this before. She won't, and trust me, if she did, she'd tell me flat out. Let me call and ask her. Cooking seems to be some sort of therapy for her. She probably roasted three chickens worrying over Ryder, and made a gallon of potato salad. Just a rough guess. Maybe two gallons. And we won't speculate on dessert.”

This big, noisy family was fascinating to her. As he called, she leaned forward and kissed his jaw, and Slater turned to brush his mouth against hers. Ryder was pounding up the auditorium stairs just then, shouting for Red, Drake and Mace, and all hell broke loose with man-hand smacks and big grins.

She was, after all, going to marry one of the Carson sons. So Grace stood up and joined in the bedlam and figured she was a lucky girl indeed.

* * *

H
ARRY
WAS
IN
rare form, as Slater had predicted, and that was really saying something. She'd made chicken, but of the fried variety, because she'd learned that was Ryder's favorite food, with milk gravy, her garlic mashed potatoes, the sweet corn she put up every season, homemade rolls...and for dessert that chocolate brownie pie thing that made Mace want to cry with happiness.

Needless to say, all conversation came to a halt when the food arrived. Even Daisy stopped chattering. In true Blythe Carson style, this had turned into a full family dinner. She, Harry and Raine bustled around in the kitchen, carrying dishes to the table, refusing to let Grace help. Slater noticed that as she relaxed, her smile resurfaced, and both Drake, with his dry sense of humor, and Mace, who served his latest wine for everyone to sample, seemed particularly conscious of her mood, both smiling when her strained expression finally eased.

They weren't bad for younger brothers, he thought.

No one had told Ryder yet that a full-on search, including law enforcement, had been launched. He was still on cloud number nine, and Slater had to admire that Grace hadn't said a word about it so he could enjoy the moment. Maybe she never would, because there'd be implied criticism of his father and, as far he could tell, she tended to avoid any censure of Hank.

Good for her. Especially since she was Ryder's mother in every way except the biological. He was lucky that he and Raine got along so well—she was right across the table from him at the moment, laughing at something Mace had just said—but he'd always thought it was unfair when quarreling parents involved their children.

Everyone pitched in on the cleanup, ordering Harry and his mother out on the porch to enjoy their cup of coffee. Chilly enough to need a light jacket, but still a beautiful night, and they'd done the cooking, so relaxation was in order. While Ryder and Daisy cleared the table, everyone else rinsed dishes, loaded the dishwasher and scrubbed pots.

As usual, Drake and Mace sparred verbally while the rest of them shook their heads.

“Pass me that gravy boat, will you?” Drake held out a soapy hand.

“What? Your arm broken or something?” Mace passed it over, anyway, grumbling. “Put an apron on you and you think you're Harry.”

Drake replied, “I don't see
you
washing a damn gravy boat, Mr. Vineyard. I still have to ride fences tonight. Here's some info for you. You're coming along. I could use help looking for that missing calf.”

“Fine. That means you'll whip off those boots and squash grapes with your toes the next time I need a hand.”

Drake, who was rinsing a wineglass, looked at it in feigned alarm. “You don't really do that, right? I've smelled your feet and—”

Raine, wiping off the kitchen island, gestured at Slater and Grace. “I'll manage the rest of this if you want to go for a walk. Run while you can. When these two get going...well, you know what happens. And yes, everyone will keep an eye on Ryder.”

Didn't have to ask him twice. Slater grabbed Grace's hand and practically dragged her to the door. They needed to talk. “Let's go.”

They even brushed past his mother and Harry with just a wave, and then suddenly he had Grace all to himself on a perfect Wyoming night, with stars everywhere and just a hint of a cloud over the moon.

“You're good for Ryder,” she said as she walked beside him on the path to the stable. “All of you. The two of us did okay together, but we were hurting in the ‘circle the wagons' department. Only two of us. No wagons. In my former line of work, that translates to no backup.”

Maybe Red's influence had rubbed off in the
Old Western Idioms
department. “As a family we do tend to stick our noses in. I wish I could promise you otherwise. We like Ryder. Enough said.”

She continued to walk next to him, her expression pensive. “The thing is, I didn't come from a big family, and he's an only kid, so I can't give him advice about how to adapt to another change in his life. No mother, then his father and I split, and
then
he was bounced off to his grandparents, and sent back over the net like a tennis ball—”

“Grace, he's doing fine.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“I have a question.” He needed to ask this carefully. Not everyone would be comfortable with it, and if she wasn't, fine. But he hoped she'd agree...

Grace glanced up at him. “What is it? With everything that went on today, I'm in a fairly mellow mood. ”

Might as well just ask. “In those pictures of the hotel you let me take, there's a woman who reminds me of you. She's gorgeous, with long hair like yours, and supposedly she was quite the legend around these parts. I'm definitely including her in the movie and...I wondered if you'd pose for some footage? The records say she was a redhead and married one of the owners. I want a reenactment and you'd be perfect.”

“I'm gorgeous?” Grace shot him a killer look. “Way to try to flatter, Carson, to get me to do something I have no idea how to pull off. In a
movie
?”

“I want it in the beginning of the movie. I'm getting that sense of how I want to structure it. I emailed the director and he agrees, since he met you at the dinner. So...there we go.”

“I've never acted in my life. Not a school play, not anything. I could arrest someone on camera, but otherwise you might just doom your movie.”

“I was being honest.” He really thought she was the right fit. The first time he'd seen the old photograph, he'd instantly thought of Grace.

“What, is she naked?”

He had to laugh at her suspicious tone. “Sweetheart, do you think I'd let anyone else see you naked? No, she's leaning over and giving her husband a kiss while sitting on her horse. It's quintessential Wyoming.”

“Does he happen to look like you?”

“He?”

“The husband.”

“No. I wouldn't say that. Why?”

“Tall, attractive rancher type? Dark hair and blue eyes?”

“It was in this area a hundred-plus years ago. Yes, I guess tall rancher type would work. You think I'm good-looking? Good to know.”

“That's the only way I'll do it. If my co-star looks like you—exactly like you, in fact. Then I'll do it. Otherwise, no.”

“You want
me
in the shot?” He stopped and turned her toward him.

“That's the deal.”

She had him over a barrel. He wasn't an actor, either, but for a few minutes of footage without dialogue he could pull it off, and he already had the scene in mind.

“Are you saying yes?” he asked.

“If you are, Showbiz.”

Everyone was going to love this, from his staff to his family. But he had to admit he didn't want anyone else kissing her, so...it might as well be him.

“All right, I'm game. On-screen kiss. Let's make it memorable.”

He was actually looking forward to it. In fact, maybe they should rehearse right now. “Grace, I'm feeling my way with this, acting in a scene together, but I'm so in love with you, I can't think of a better reason to do it.”

Her expression softened and she melted into his embrace. “If that's your pitch, I can see why you're successful in the movie business.”

“Hmm.” He led her toward the closest fence. When they got there, he lifted her up and set her on the top rail. “Now, kiss me. Let your hair fall down over your shoulder. Romantic?”

“You're too bossy. If you're like this on location, I'm not sure I can put up with it.” Her mouth curved provocatively.

“The director is more in charge than I am when we're actually filming.” His hands lingered at her waist, her long legs dangling. “I'm just trying to see that we get the right shot.”

“We might have to practice it a few times.” She leaned down and teased him with a brief touch of her lips. “Is this what you were thinking of?”

Hardly. He wound his hand into her hair and tugged her closer. “You know damn well I have something else in mind.”

“I'm new to this acting thing.” She failed at looking innocent.

The second kiss was much better with him as director. Grace seemed to approve, too, her mouth soft and receptive, her arms around his neck.

He wanted nothing more than to lay her down and make love to her, but they had the rest of their lives for that and of course, Drake and Mace could come riding through at any moment, no doubt arguing all the way.

So he settled for one more electrifying kiss under a beautiful Western sky.

Not too much of a sacrifice.