Читать книгу Mountain Country Cowboy - Glynna Kaye - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Cash tensed. Why was she bringing that up now?

If nothing else, it was a continued reminder that while people didn’t blame him for his father’s sins, they wouldn’t be quick to forget where he’d come from. That they’d be on guard, watching for him to make a wrong move.

He stepped back up onto the porch and carefully placed the bedding on one of the rockers, then approached a wary-looking Rio, who now stood a comfortable distance from the cabin and the possibly listening ears of his son.

“No,” he said as he looked down at her, again noticing a slightly crooked nose, evidence that at some point the tough little tomboy must have taken a tumble. But it lent her pretty face a bit of whimsy. Whimsy. Not exactly a word found in his usual vocabulary, but it fit Rio. “No, none of it was my fault.”

She darted a look at the cabin and further lowered her voice. “Nevertheless... I think I should warn you that Jeb Greer still works here. His son Eliot’s back for the summer, too. Jeb was, you know—”

“Yeah, I know.”

Greer. The man whose wife had an affair with Cash’s father. That discovery, along with a related fistfight provoked by the behavior of Cash’s dad, had Jeb’s wife fleeing the scandal and gotten the Herrera family thrown off the Hunter property.

While his thirteen-year-old self had cringed with every blow as that fight played out, a reluctant admiration for his wiry-built old man had nevertheless swelled as Cash had watched him expertly duck, sway and dodge. Then a one-two punch sent blood gushing from the nose of his bigger, burlier opponent. Caught up in the unfolding spectacle, Cash had laughed, fist punching the air in triumph. That was, until he caught the hate-filled look on the face of the other man’s ten-year-old son.

Their gazes had met and held, and in that moment Cash’s young heart knew he’d made an enemy for life. Justifiably, he was soon to learn, once he discovered the reason for the fight.

Cash shook off the recollection, determining to do his best to steer clear of both father and son. No point in his presence dredging up bad memories for them. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

She nodded and he turned toward the cabin, then paused to look back at her. “How’d that turn out? For the Greer couple, I mean. Did she come back?”

“Divorced.”

Not unexpected.

“Sorry to hear it.” He knew well the wound Jeb lived with—despite the passage of time—when a woman he’d taken into his heart betrayed him. He’d ridden that trail himself. Wasn’t inclined to risk riding it again.

Rio waited for him to continue, but that wasn’t a topic he intended to pursue. Instead, he raked his hand roughly through his hair. “Look, I apologize for this kidcare obstacle. I appreciate your offer of assistance. But do you think maybe, for the time being, Joey could come along with me? That way I can get started tomorrow. Not delay things.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “You want a kid to tag along who isn’t sure he even likes horses?”

He hadn’t figured out what was going on with that. Joey claimed he wasn’t afraid of them.

“He may not be into horses—yet—but there’s nothing stopping him from sitting on a barrel and playing with his trucks. Or mucking out stalls and filling water tanks. At eight years old I was doing that and more. You were, too.”

“I don’t know, Cash...”

He watched with bated breath as she nibbled the corner of her lower lip in concentration. Princess Rio. Who would have imagined fourteen years ago that the little snip would blossom into such a head turner? But since he’d clued her in that at the time of his application childcare hadn’t been an issue, she was probably questioning how well he knew his son. Wondering if he could vouch that Joey would cooperate when accompanying him.

In all honesty, he didn’t know.

It might take some doing to roll the little guy out of bed before dawn, but although she hadn’t done the hiring, he sensed it would be to his long-term advantage to have Rio’s seal of approval. Starting tomorrow would be a point in his favor.

“So what do you say?” he prompted. “I think we both want to make this transition work.”

She slowly nodded, as if not yet convinced. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe we can try it tomorrow, anyway.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Her mouth curved. “Not asking much, are you?”

With a sense of elation that he’d won her over, he couldn’t help but share her smile as they openly studied each other, her mind likely teeming with as many questions about their working relationship as filled his. If he guessed right, this spunky lady kept many a man—the deputy?—on his toes these days, and not because they were on guard for an ambush as he’d often been in his youth.

Looking down at her, he caught the soft, quick intake of her breath before she abruptly spun away and started down the trail back to the heart of the Hideaway.

“See you at sunrise,” she called over her shoulder with a sassy toss of that ponytail, and he shook his head. This might prove to be a long—and interesting—few months. But as he headed back to the cabin—his and Joey’s new home—a soul-deep gratefulness welled up within him.

Everything works for the good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.

Three years after he’d joined God’s team just prior to being released from jail, he was still trying to get his head around that biblical promise—a vow that God would bring good from the worst of situations.

Wasn’t his friendship with Deputy Lamar proof of that? And the job he’d landed at the dude ranch shortly thereafter? Even working with horses as his dad dragged the family from job to job—from affair to affair—on ranches and at other horse facilities had come full circle. He’d acquired the experience to gain a foothold at Hunter’s Hideaway. And now, in time for Joey’s arrival, this job came with the added bonus of lodging that hands-down beat his bunkhouse quarters at the dude ranch where he’d previously worked.

God was looking out for him. For them.

Joey met him inside the door, his brown eyes anxious—an expression that regularly alternated with a pugnacious one. It had been good to see him laugh with the German shepherd earlier that day. But had the boy, in his father’s brief absence, thought his daddy had left him on his own like his mother had been known to do? Abandoned him as it might seem his grandma had done two days ago?

“Hey, champ.” He placed a hand on Joey’s head, ruffling his hair. The child wasn’t much into hugs, and Cash tried to respect that. Wasn’t into saying “I love you, too,” either, no matter how many times his father told him he was loved. But at the moment it was hard not to pull him close to his heart. “What’s up?”

The youngster’s jaw jutted, dark eyes uncertain. “I’m going to live with you forever now, Dad?”

Is that what his boy wanted? Didn’t want? He hadn’t been overly talkative since his grandma dumped him off. Hadn’t spoken a word about his mother, either. Only occasionally did a betraying flash of temper surface to express an underlying anger and confusion he wasn’t yet ready to verbalize.

More than anything, Cash longed to tell him yes, they’d be together forever. But he had no legal right to his son yet. Not unless his ex-wife honored her hastily scribbled note that Cash’s former mother-in-law had entrusted to his care. If he told Joey they’d be living together from now on, would that make him feel further forsaken by his mother? Or if he was okay with living with his dad, would an affirmative answer set him up to have his hopes dashed if Lorilee or the law subsequently refused to allow it?

“That’s what I’m praying for.” He gave Joey’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “That is...if that’s what you want.”

“Whatever.”

The boy pulled away. Not exactly the response Cash was hoping for.

“You know,” he ventured, doing his best to sound reassuring, “I’m here to listen anytime you want to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Joey looked at him with a deliberately blank expression. The Dead Eye Look, Hodgson Herrera called it. A stare that, had Cash pulled it on his own father, would have gotten him knocked halfway across the room.

But Cash drew a slow breath, determined not to let the child light a fuse under his own sometimes volatile emotions. Joey had every right to be angry. To not trust him. “We can talk about anything you want to, whenever you want to.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

One. Two. Three. Counting to ten—even twenty—had become a lifesaver these past three years, and Cash felt the tension slowly ebbing. “Suit yourself. But there are a few things I need to talk to you about. Guy stuff.”

Joey’s eyes cautiously brightened. “Guy stuff?”

“That’s right.” Cash chucked him lightly on the arm. “You said you wanted to hang out with me. Well, we’re going to get a chance to do that. But I’m going to need your help...”

* * *

“What are you up to, Luke?” In the near-dawn of Saturday morning, from one of the box stalls where she’d been checking in on a pregnant mare—her favorite horse, Gypsy—Rio watched curiously as her brother pulled his saddle out of the tack room. Surely he wasn’t headed for a ride at this hour?

“I’m setting this out for Cash to take a look at.” He placed the saddle on a bale of straw, tilting it forward to rest on its saddle horn. “This strap here is getting worn. When I ran into Cash after supper last night and he mentioned he’s done leatherwork in the past, I asked him to take a look at it. See if it can be repaired.”

“I’d be happy to look at it for you.” She was more than capable of evaluating saddlery. Making repairs, too.

“No need. Keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing there, but point Cash in this direction when he gets in.”

With an exasperated sigh, she glanced at her watch as Luke departed. Ten more minutes and Cash would be late. Having lain awake in the night thinking of the too-handsome new hire and everything needing to be done before the events contractor’s visit, she was now grouchy and having misgivings concerning allowing Joey to join them.

Not only did the family have planning ahead for the contractor’s visit, but she and Cash also had their regular work to do. While summer hires could muck out stalls and help with the feeding and grooming of thirty horses, she enjoyed the hands-on involvement with the animals and time with the guests and wanted to evaluate Cash in those respects. Working with the horses and matching rider experience levels was especially important.

Today she’d team up with Cash as trail ride wranglers, then when they got back they’d cool down the animals, grab a bite to eat and be back to prepare for an afternoon ride. There would be no opportunity to keep track of a child, to keep him safe and out of mischief.

Lost in thought, she startled when Cash hailed her from one of the barn’s wide-open double doorways.

“Here we are, with minutes to spare.”

As she exited the box stall and secured the door behind her, she looked at her watch again, almost disappointed that Cash was two minutes early so she didn’t have grounds to take out her crankiness on him. She couldn’t help but smile as he approached, though, one hand steering a foot-dragging Joey in front of him and the other grasping a reusable shopping bag lumpy with what she guessed to be toys.

Again she noticed the boy’s unsuitable attire, topped by a windbreaker on this coolish morning. Nor did she miss the way he anxiously took in the presence of the stabled horses. “You need work clothes, Joey. Jeans. Boots.”

The little guy shrugged as he glumly looked up at his dad. Not a happy camper this morning.

Cash studied him. “Yeah. His wardrobe’s definitely suited to a suburban desert climate. Maybe we can find a secondhand store someplace. There’s no point in investing much money in something he’ll outgrow overnight.”

Yesterday she’d glimpsed Cash’s pickup parked behind his cabin. While the aging vehicle was well cared for, she suspected he didn’t have much to invest in anything right now.

“Well, let’s get started.” Snagging a clipboard from a recessed area in the wall, she flipped through the pages. “Looks like we don’t have a full roster for this morning’s ninety-minute ride. Only seven. Mostly newbies. One couple claims to be experienced riders, but while we don’t want to assign them a beginner’s mount that might bore them to tears, we don’t want them to overreach, either.”

Cash led a sober-eyed Joey to a stack of straw bales and motioned for him to sit down. Handed him his bag. “It’s been my experience people tend to overestimate their equestrian skills. You know, as if riding merry-go-round ponies at the county fair qualifies as an experienced rider.”

She laughed at his spot-on insight, remembering that, according to his application, he’d worked at a popular dude ranch the past several years. After he got out of jail. And before that, at other equine-related facilities where he’d trained horses. “You noticed that, too?”

He grinned. “All too common.”

As they walked through the barn, keeping Joey in sight, he listened attentively to her reasoning behind her chosen rider and mount assignments. Through the stall bars he gave each horse a pat on the neck or a scratch under the chin, entirely comfortable in his surroundings.

So why wasn’t she?

He didn’t talk much, for one thing. Nodded occasionally. Asked a question here and there. And left her uncharacteristically prattling on to fill in the silence. It didn’t help either that she was all too aware of him as he strolled along beside her, her senses on high alert. To her annoyance, the faint, clean scent of his soap and the occasional good-natured chuckle that rumbled from the depths of his chest sent her heart galloping.

Disgusted with her involuntary reaction—a betrayal of women everywhere who’d been lured in by charming men with a penchant for punching—she hugged the clipboard to her chest. The crew would be arriving shortly to feed and groom the animals. Maybe that everyday routine would settle this unfamiliar edginess. “Any other questions?”

“I’m interested,” Cash ventured with an earnest look, “in learning more details of what your grandmother shared regarding an events contractor coming to check things out. How do you anticipate that will affect what goes on in this particular aspect of the Hideaway?”

“We learned of the company’s interest in including us as a possible venue for small-event gatherings maybe two weeks ago.” Ideas for the visit were being bandied about. Nothing solidified. “I’m sure Luke will go over the financial reports with you as they relate to our seasonal trail riding offerings, hayrides and sleigh rides, but as Grandma may have mentioned, we’re still recovering from that nationwide economic downturn several years ago. With the help of an influx of artisan newcomers, Hunter Ridge is getting there, but hasn’t quite bounced back yet.”

He nodded. “She touched on that.”

“My brother Grady’s bringing in wildlife photographers for workshops. But this is an opportunity for a considerable number of other small-group bookings if we can get a thumbs-up through this contractor. They claim that more and more of their big city clients are looking for unique, intimate venues for gatherings.”

“Gatherings such as...?”

“Corporate retreats. Club getaways. Family celebrations—you know, milestone anniversaries, birthdays, graduations. Reunions. That kind of thing. The forest and wildlife we have in abundance here, along with our cabins, cookouts and trail rides would be a big part of the draw.”

He folded his muscled arms—not that she was noticing.

“I seem to recall there was some of that here when I was a kid.”

“Oh, there was, but this would be a more focused endeavor. Targeting that type of clientele to a greater extent for a more reliable source of income than sporadic group bookings provide.”

He tipped his head thoughtfully. “Guests at the last place I worked had higher standards than dudes used to. Everyone likes to brag that they’ve been roughing it, but there’s not a whole lot of roughing it in reality these days.”

She laughed. “Glamping, you mean?”

That was the latest global trend—“glamorous” camping. Getting off the beaten path in luxury.

“No offense, Rio, but while the Hideaway provides clean, well-cared for accommodations with a homey touch, they don’t exactly fit the definition of luxurious unless you’re visiting from a Third World country.”

Thanks for pointing that out, Mr. Herrera.

“Well, that’s something we’ll be discussing in-depth next week.” She kept her tone deliberately light, determined not to take offense at his critical comment. “We’ll be considering what upgrades or alterations might realistically be required to meet the needs of a slightly different type of guest.”

“You’ve researched this company and asked for a profile of their clients? Have an idea of the caliber of venues the company is currently booking?”

Rio took a steadying breath. Gave him her best smile.

“I’m sure Grady or Luke have either done that or will be doing it soon.” Neither had mentioned it, though. She’d been gone a week, however, and would no doubt be brought up-to-date at Monday night’s weekly business meeting—of which Cash would now be a part. “But we have time on our side. The company’s been candid with us that they’re evaluating numerous potential sites in the West and Southwest this summer. We’re one of many. They ballparked the Hideaway visit for late July. Maybe not until August.”

“But don’t you think—”

“Dad!”

Relieved at the interruption, she turned to where a wide-eyed Joey was still sitting on the bale of straw, now surrounded by three attentive barn cats.

“I think they want to eat me, Dad.”

Did the giggle from the too-solemn boy warm his father’s heart as much as it did hers?

She handed the clipboard to Cash, then trotted the length of the wide passage between the stalls. When she reached Joey, she swiftly scooped up a yellow tabby. “These fur balls don’t want to eat you. They’re waiting for you to give them a treat.”

Extending her arm behind him to lift the lid on a small plastic box attached to the wall, she pulled out a handful of kitty treats. She gave one to Joey, who tentatively held it out to the cat in her arms. It made short work of the treat, crunching happily away. The other two jumped atop the bale with the boy.

He smiled again. “They all want some.”

As the cat in her arms leaped to the floor, she sensed Cash coming up behind her and held out a treat to him. But when he shook his head, she handed the remaining goodies to Joey.

“Look, Rio,” Cash said, his voice low as he pulled her aside. “I’m sorry if I came across as disparaging of the Hideaway. That wasn’t my intention. It’s just that I’ve spent the past several years catching a glimpse of the lifestyles of the rich and not-so-famous, and it’s been an eye-opener.”

“I imagine so.” Obviously he didn’t think the Hideaway could meet those lofty expectations.

“I do have ideas, though,” he continued with a nod to her clipboard still in his hands, “that may be in keeping with the integrity and history of the place.”

Cash hadn’t been on the premises twenty-four hours and he already had ideas?

Annoyed at his presumptuousness, she tried to ease her clipboard from his fingers. They had business to attend to.

But he didn’t relinquish it.

She gave it a tug. He held fast.

Looking into his amused eyes—he’d no doubt noticed the spark of irritation in hers—she fought back the urge to jerk it out of his hands. “May I have my clipboard, please?”

“You may.” He leaned in slightly. “But only if you forgive me for sharing my opinions. I get the feeling that, in spite of the future role I’ll be playing here, you think I’m stepping out of bounds—Princess.”

Heartbeat sprinting, to her irritation she couldn’t draw her gaze from his. Out of bounds. That’s definitely where he’d stepped. “I—”

“So it’s not a vicious rumor,” a man’s voice boomed from the open doorway.

Cash immediately relinquished the clipboard and stepped away from her as the man approached. Now as big and burly as his father, Eliot Greer was dressed in work clothes and boots, his unruly blond hair shower-damp. He was a handsome man several years younger than Cash, who was at the moment looking at Eliot blankly, as though trying to place him.

But why was her face warming as if the new arrival had caught her in a compromising situation with their new hire?

“You remember Eliot Greer,” she said somewhat breathlessly, “don’t you, Cash?”

“Oh, yeah.” Eliot chuckled, but didn’t sound amused. “He remembers me.”