Читать книгу Cowboy Comes Back / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride: Cowboy Comes Back / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride - Wendy Warren - Страница 11

KADE KNEW THAT LIBBY wanted him to leave now that the emergency was over, knew that she hated owing him. Well, he’d give her a chance to even things out.

“I need a favor, Libby.”

“What?” she asked cautiously.

“Have you ever seen Blue when you’ve been doing your BLM horse stuff?”

He could see relief in her eyes. “A couple of times.”

He forgot himself and smiled. Blue was alive. “I went searching for the herd a few days ago. Couldn’t find it.”

“We relocated it after the fires two years ago.”

That explained a lot.

“How’d he look? How was he doing?”

Libby pressed her lips together. “He was getting a little poor the last time I saw him.” Her expression softened then, the mask dropped, and for a moment she was the old Libby. His friend. His lover. “He is almost twenty, Kade. It’s a rough life out there.”

“I want to find him. See him.”

“Why?”

He didn’t know exactly. Maybe because the horse had been the one positive thing in his youth besides Libby. And he’d messed things up with Lib, so that only left Blue. “I just … need to see him.”

She frowned, but didn’t pursue the matter. “I’ll show you on a topo.”

“Come with me,” Kade said without even knowing why. Maybe it was because of that brief moment of empathy.

Libby actually took a step back. Not a good sign. No more empathy. “I don’t think so.”

He tried a different tack. “It would screw with the odds makers.” A bad attempt at humor.

“As far as I’m concerned, the odds makers can go screw themselves.” She kicked the toe of her boot into the gravel, glanced at the barn again, then met his gaze. “I owe you tonight, Kade. And I’ll be nice to you tonight. I’ll show you where the herd is on a topo map.”

“Never mind,” he said in a clipped tone. “You can show me later.” As if there would be a later. He got into his truck, and after checking to make sure the dogs were close to Libby he shifted into Reverse.

When he glanced in the rearview mirror on the way down the driveway he saw Libby walking back to the barn. Alone. And he was driving home. Alone.

What a waste.

THE NEXT MORNING Menace pulled into Kade’s place with the Chevy on the back of his tow rig. “Where do you want her?” he asked gruffly.

“Behind the barn.” To rot.

“Jason said you may want to sell.”

“Do you know anyone who may want to buy it?” Because Kade knew someone who could use the cash.

“Yeah. But I can’t guarantee you’d get much.”

“I’ll think about it,” Kade said, and then he got to the subject that had been on his mind all morning. “Hey. do you see much of Libby?”

“Yeah, I do.” It almost sounded like a threat.

“One of her horses got hurt last night and I thought maybe you could stop by and see if she needs some help changing the bandage. Apparently the vet is out of town.” And Kade didn’t think he’d be all that welcome now that she wasn’t desperate.

“You know how I am with horses,” Menace said, alarmed. Kade did know. Terrified.

“Oh. I thought maybe after all these years …”

“I’ll stop by and see if she needs a hand. If so I can dig up someone.” The big man had gone a little pale.

“Do that,” Kade said. “And if you can’t find anyone, call me. It’s dangerous doctoring horses alone.”

“Right. I will.” Menace got back in his towtruck and put it in gear. He unloaded the Chevy behind the barn. “You want to pay me now or drop your insurance information by?”

“I’ll pay you now.” While he could. He pulled out his wallet.

“Check on Libby,” he said as he handed over some of Joe Barton’s cash. Menace nodded and got into his truck.

“WHAT THE HELL do you mean, Kade told you to check on me?”

Menace glared, his black beard making him look fierce. “I mean what I said. Kade thinks it’s dangerous to take care of the horse by yourself and he’s damned well right.”

“Well, maybe he is, but I don’t have to like it.” Libby pulled her curls back in a rubber band, then grabbed her gloves off the kitchen table. “Come on, then. Let’s go take care of business.” She was aware that watching her doctor a horse was the last thing Menace wanted to do, but when she’d made a call to the vet in Wesley earlier that morning, he’d told her he had another client in Otto and it would be late afternoon before he could get there.

“Maybe we could call Benny Benson….” Menace ventured.

“Maybe you can just watch while I change the bandage. If the horse knocks me around, you can pick me up.”

Menace’s body stiffened. “If Kade’s so worried about you, maybe he should have come over himself.”

“He’s welcome to do so,” Libby lied as she led the way to the pen, “but apparently he doesn’t want to.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Menace muttered.

Libby turned, took a long look at her big friend and then let out a sigh. “Sorry. Kade did me a favor last night. I hated asking and I don’t like feeling beholden. Things are kind of … weird between us,” she finished. Which was an understatement.

“Libby,” Menace said, “if you’re gonna live in the same community as him, you’re gonna have to suck it up.”

“I’m trying,” she said as she opened the barn door. But it isn’t that easy. She’d just rolled the door back when a truck pulled into the drive. Libby smiled. “Look, Menace … the cavalry.”

“Hey, yeah.” Menace brightened considerably as he recognized Sam Hyatt’s vet truck. The Wesley vet jumped out and Menace started for his truck. “I really gotta get back to the shop, Libby. Call me if you need some help.”

“I’ll do that,” Libby said with a note of irony. Menace didn’t slow down as he waved in response.

THE HORSE’S LEG was swollen, just as Kade had said it would be, and he was hurting, so Libby was glad that Sam had been able to stop by early. The travel costs from Wesley to Otto were going to kill her, though, since Sam’s other client had canceled and she’d be paying the entire fee herself. She had a feeling that Sam would waive it, since she’d agreed to go to dinner with him next Saturday night, but she wouldn’t let him do that. Libby always kept business and pleasure separate. Life was less complicated that way. It was also less complicated if she kept matters from getting too serious and Sam seemed to understand Libby’s emotional boundaries.

“Stan will be back on Monday,” Sam said, “but I don’t think you’ll have any trouble as long as you leave the wound wrapped and keep pouring bute into him.” Sam gave the horse a final pat and then let himself out of the pen. “He’ll be scarred, though.”

“I figured. I just want him healthy.”

“He’s lucky you found him when you did.”

No doubt. Had Cooper spent much longer on his back, he would have died.

“You should have called me,” Sam continued as they left the barn and walked the short distance to his dusty utility truck.

“I didn’t want to pay an after-hours charge,” Libby said with a crooked smile. Sam smiled back and Libby was struck by just how good-looking he was, with his blond hair and blue eyes. Put him in a mackinaw and he’d be the image of a Swedish lumberjack. Shuck him out of that mackinaw—and everything else—and he’d probably be pretty spectacular, too. Libby wasn’t yet certain whether she’d ever be doing that.

“We could have worked something out.”

“I don’t want special treatment,” Libby replied, the smile still playing on her lips, possibly because of the mackinaw ruminations.

To her surprise, Sam settled his big hand on her shoulder, his fingers strong and warm. “You might get some anyway.”

Her surprise must have shown, because Sam suddenly dropped his hand and busied himself loading his equipment, leaving Libby standing there, feeling … She didn’t know how she felt. She liked Sam. And regardless of his good looks, that was where she would leave things for now. The mackinaw would stay on.

“I HEARD YOU’RE getting this place ready to sell.” Joe Barton stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the property as Kade threw a saddle onto the chestnut colt’s back. It was the second time in a matter of days that Joe had made the forty-mile drive from his ranch to Kade’s in order to ride with him.

“There’s nothing to keep me here,” Kade said. Anything that might have kept him there was far out of reach now.

Joe nodded thoughtfully. “I like the way you handle my colts. I was hoping you’d stay around.”

Kade smiled but said nothing. Joe had brought his own horse to ride, another excellent and obviously expensive animal. Kade finished saddling the young horse, then they both mounted and headed off down the county road to the turnoff leading toward the mountains.

Joe was not a natural horseman, but he faked it successfully. The older man watched Kade as he rode, adjusting his body so that his seat was more like Kade’s. He didn’t ask for advice and Kade never offered any. That was probably why they did so well together.

“We’ve done some trail work since the last time we rode,” Kade said. “Junior’s still learning to carry a load downhill.” A young horse had to learn how to sit back on his haunches when being ridden down a steep slope, and sometimes it took a number of tries to teach the lesson.

Joe gave a grunt of acknowledgment, although Kade didn’t think he really knew what he was talking about. Well, the first time Joe went over the head of a horse who stumbled because he carried all the weight on his front end, he’d know. Kade’s job was to keep that from happening.

“How’s your water?” Kade asked. It was a common question in the area, kind of like, “Hot enough for you?”

“Holding out,” Joe said. “But I can’t sell as much hay this year.”

“Feeding it?”

“The BLM won’t let me put all my cows on the grazing allotments, so I’m feeding part of the herd year round. They’re trying to tell me they’re reducing numbers of all animals using the land, but it’s a lie.”

“How so?”

Joe’s jaw tightened. “Because I found out they moved in a herd of mustangs two years ago. They live in the mountains during the summer, but in the winter they come down onto my allotments and eat my grass. When I bought the ranch, I bought the cattle, too. I’d planned on putting the same number out to graze as the previous owner, but this past spring the BLM cut me back by twenty-five percent. Because of the damned mustangs.”

“Doesn’t seem fair to move a herd in, then cut you back,” Kade said, wondering if the herd eating Joe’s grass was Blue’s herd. It was quite possible. “But you know,” he continued, “that’s always been mustang country. I’m not sure what happened to the herd that was there before they relocated this one, but there were wild horses in your valley before I was born.”

“How do you know?”

Kade smiled. “My grandfather used to ranch in the area. He’d let his horses run with the mustangs when he put them out for the summer. Then he’d gather the whole herd, sort out his horses and let the mustangs go.” Most of them, anyway. A few of his grandfather’s favorite mounts were mustangs he’d “adopted” on his own. The BLM finally made him stop running his horses with the herd in the 1970s, but he’d told Kade the story many times.

“Yeah? How’d he get his horses back?”

“He built a mustang trap. A classic one, with a long funnel of camouflaged fencing that narrowed down into a hidden corral.”

Joe grunted again, and then urged his mount to move faster to keep up with the chestnut. “Prior to buying the Zephyr Valley ranch, I liked wild horses. That was before I was aware of the damage they cause to the range.”

Kade debated. Argue with a man who was paying his salary and was convinced he was correct? Or just keep quiet and ride? He chose the middle ground. Diplomacy. “Any animal, in numbers that are too large, can overgraze a range. Usually, in cases like these, the feds cut back on both mustangs and cattle so that there’s enough grass. But cattle are easier to regulate.”

“The difference between cattle and wild horses is that the government makes a profit from my usage. I’m paying them for the land.”

The chestnut suddenly shied, saving Kade from having to reply. He stopped the animal and turned it back. The horse cautiously approached the scary stick lying on the ground, blowing through his nose. Then eventually got close enough to sniff it.

Joe laughed. “I’m always amazed at what will spook a horse.”

“Sticks are bad,” Kade agreed. Blowing paper was the worst.

The two men headed for home after another twenty minutes, talking about horses as they rode. Joe had always dreamed of breeding horses, and now that he finally had a ranch, he could indulge himself. He was also planning to buy and sell colts, and it sounded as if he was employing the same strategies he’d used to get rich in the stock market. Figure out the bloodlines that should prove most popular in the future. Buy low, sell high. These three colts were his first investments. Kade believed the man had chosen well.

When they got back to the ranch, Joe loaded his horse. Kade went into the trailer and returned with two Cokes.

“Is your house so bad you have to live in your horse trailer?”

Kade said yes with a straight face. And it was that bad, just not in the sense that Barton meant. Kade figured if the man hung around town at all, he’d eventually hear that Kade and his dad had been estranged, even if he might not learn why.

Not many people knew the truth. Parker Danning had been pretty good at hiding the fact that he hated his only son—in public, anyway. And Kade didn’t think anyone knew about that last huge fight, the one where he’d finally fought back for real and proved that he could have taken his father … and then hadn’t.

Walking away had been hard, but Kade refused to be his father. He’d moved out that afternoon, into the bunk-house on Menace’s farm, weeks away from his eighteenth birthday. His dad had never come to find him and drag him home as he’d threatened to do in the past when Kade had tried to leave. In fact, his father had never spoken to him again.

“You should probably put a match to it and bring in a double-wide.” Joe gestured at the house with the Coke can.

“Tempting.” In many ways. “But I can’t afford a double-wide.” Kade spoke without thinking, then wished he hadn’t. His monetary woes were no one else’s business.

“If you train enough colts, that could change,” Joe said, snapping open the can. “And I will have more that need to be trained, if you’re interested.”

“I am—for as long as I’m here, anyway.”

“I may have to do what I can to see that you stay,” Joe said, and Kade had a feeling the guy wasn’t being totally facetious.

After the rancher left, Kade fed the four horses, then went into the house to put in a few hours of work. The place felt better now that he’d cleared it out, slapped some paint on the walls. He planned to spend the colt money on flooring, and if a real job didn’t materialize shortly he hoped that Barton would send more colts his way. Hell, he could make a fairly reasonable living starting colts, if he didn’t mind the uncertainty.

But he did.

He wanted security for once in his life. He’d never had it after his mother had left his abusive dad, effectively abandoning her son when he was twelve. The rodeo life was about as insecure a life as a guy could get, everything hinging on the next big ride. And then, when he finally made it big and thought he had some security, he’d come to find out it was all an illusion because he’d trusted the wrong person. He hadn’t been the only one. Dylan Smith had bilked several people out of funds. That didn’t make Kade feel one bit less stupid.

THE WESLEY BLM personnel enjoyed four days without Ellen Vargas at the helm, while she represented their office at a state conference. She returned on Friday in a bad mood. Obviously something had not gone as she’d planned.

No one cared to ask, and since there had yet to be a staff meeting summarizing the outcome, a few random theories floated around. But for the most part the crew was simply glad she was leaving them alone. It couldn’t last forever, though, and Libby was the one who took the first hit.

“Oh, Libby …”

“Yes, Ellen?” Libby asked politely. She’d been sitting in front of her computer, supposedly working on her report. In actuality she’d been stewing about Kade and her injured horse and what Menace had said about the two of them living in the same community. Again.

“I’d like to see you in my office. Please bring any information you have on the area surrounding the Jessup Creek and Zephyr Valley ranches.”

“Zephyr Valley ranch?” Libby had never heard of it before. It certainly wasn’t on any of the maps.

“It’s the Boggy Flat ranch,” Stephen said quietly. Libby turned to stare at him, but he didn’t look up—rather like a possum playing dead. Maybe if he didn’t move or speak again, Ellen would go away. Fortunately she did, her heels clicking briskly down the hallway.

Stephen straightened up once the coast was clear, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. His brown hair was sticking out at weird angles from where he’d been resting his palm on his head as he worked. He’d managed to find another project and he was pouring all of his energy into it in an effort to keep Ellen at bay.

“The Zephyr Valley?” Libby asked. “For real?”

“For real.”

Libby shook her head in disgust. What next? The Boggy Flat had been acquired by a wealthy Chicagoan a little more than a year ago, but Libby hadn’t known that he’d changed the name of the hundred-year-old ranch.

She opened a file drawer and pulled out the hard copy on the Jessup Valley area before following Ellen into the state’s most perfectly appointed office. There was a new flower in the vase. Another orchid.

Ellen waved Libby to a seat. “You’re the first person I’m meeting with concerning the conference I just attended. The wild-horse issue was thoroughly discussed and the heads of the other regional offices and I have concluded that we should concentrate our energies on managing the mustang herds grazing on the cattle allotments.”

“Manage in what way?” Libby asked. She thought she was managing those herds.

“Reducing numbers to a more reasonable level.”

“Define reasonable.”

“The cattlemen pay for the range, so ‘reasonable’ would mean the number of horses that can be sustained without affecting the number of cattle that normally graze there.”

“What about the deer, elk and antelope?” Libby was fully in support of using the range for cattle, but when the range was in poor condition, everything had to be scaled back.

“Funny you should mention that. According to my research, the mustangs in the Jessup Valley are taking range from native species.”

“I’d sure like to see that research.”

“I’ll see that you get a copy,” Ellen said, tidying the stack of papers on her desk as she spoke. “But in the meantime we’ll focus on areas that affect the economy.”

“And that would be the areas with grazing allotments.”

“Exactly. When you finish writing your section of the land-usage report, I want you to address this issue.”

“I’ll be certain to do that.” Libby couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice, probably because she wasn’t trying very hard to do so.

Ellen set her pen on the desk. “Libby.” She folded her hands on the top of her desk and leaned forward. “Let me be blunt, since it’s a manner of speaking with which you are quite familiar. Our budget is in trouble. We need the grazing fees, and in addition to that we may have to adjust staff. At the conference we discussed the possibility of sharing personnel over several areas in a cooperative effort. One of the positions discussed was that of wild horse specialist. You have the least seniority.”

“I see.” Libby refused to let any emotion come into her voice. She had no idea if Ellen was telling her the truth or simply trying to manipulate her, so there was no sense going ballistic over what might well be nothing more than a stretching of the truth.

Ellen adjusted her glasses. “I, of course, fought to keep your position rather than have it absorbed. However, nothing is settled yet.” She paused. “I will continue to fight for you, as long as I feel you are a benefit to this office.” Another pause for effect. Two, three, four … “Are we clear on the situation?”

“Very clear.” Cooperate with Ellen or walk.

“I want you to look closely at the situation in the Jessup Valley. When you finalize your addition to the usage report, I expect to see suggestions that will take the current economic situation into account.”

Libby nodded. She might be hotheaded, but she wasn’t a fool. She’d continue with this game for a while and see how it played out, but damned if she would let this woman force her to include lies in her assessments.

“If that’s all?” she asked, holding the folder she’d brought with her in both hands.

“For now,” Ellen said. “I look forward to your report.”

Libby gave a slight smile and headed for the door.

“Well?” Stephen asked once she returned to their office.

“We have range issues,” Libby said shortly.

“Yeah.” Stephen leaned back in his chair, propping the sole of his boot on the edge of the desk. “Before Ellen went to the state meeting, she wanted to allow more grazing for the three big ranches in the area. I couldn’t recommend increasing time or number of animals on the allotments. Fred agreed with me. She didn’t like that much.”

“Well,” Libby said, thoughtfully twisting a curl around her finger. “She now believes that if she removes the horses from the range, there’ll be plenty of food for cattle.”

“She’s probably right.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours. But her thought process makes sense.”

“Her thought process is what worries me. And she came back all out of sorts from that meeting, so I’m thinking she got bad news and now she’s trying to twist things to get what she wants.”

“What does she want, Libby?”

“She wants to make friends with some rich ranchers, near as I can tell.” Libby shook her head and touched her computer mouse, bringing the screen to life. She had a report to write.

And some thinking to do.

“DO YOU HAVE plans for the weekend?” Ellen asked later that afternoon as they left the office for the day.

Libby’s jaw set at the woman’s pretended interest in her staff. The ploy was probably outlined in one of her management books. Take an interest in your staff. Show them that you care, then carefully insert the knife between the fifth and sixth ribs and twist …

“Just a long ride in the mountains,” Libby said. She dug her keys out of her jacket pocket and started for her truck.

She’d spent as much time contemplating the pros and cons of Menace’s advice to suck it up where Kade was concerned as she’d spent debating the mustang situation. She did need to suck it up. It was stupid to think that she could avoid Kade in the tiny community. So why try? Why not just find a middle ground between lovers and enemies? It was the only sane course of action. And it would prove once and for all—to both of them—that there’d never, ever be anything between them again.

And that was why she was going to do more than point out Blue’s herd on the map. She would go with Kade to find his horse.