Caught by the Cowgirl
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Tanya Agler
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22
CHAPTER ONE
WILL SULLIVAN SMELLED snow on the horizon, something not uncommon on the first day of May in Colorado. Wet sticky flakes would make for a slippery ride to the northeast pasture in the morning. Even if it didn’t snow, the hard freeze might ice up the cattle’s water station. He’d have to break the ice to stave off any chance of dehydration, or worse. He couldn’t afford any more mishaps this close to the end of calving season.
Best to rise earlier than usual and get a head start on his late father’s reliable quarter horse, Tuxedo. That was if the ground was firm enough for riding. He hoped that was the case. He didn’t want to have to use the ranch’s only utility terrain vehicle, held together with spit and duct tape.
Only a few more chores before dinner. He shoveled fresh hay into Tux’s stable stall and checked the water troughs. His dependable ranch border collie, Rocket, barked and rushed past him.
“Will! Are you in here?” His uncle’s voice echoed from behind. “You’ll never guess what I found!”
Although Uncle Barry celebrated his sixtieth birthday a month ago, his energy seemed boundless. A good thing, too, since he cooked for the five cowhands and Will. A Sullivan through and through, there was never a dull moment with his uncle, who retained the family penchant for dreams. Those never paid the bills, though.
“Can this wait? I have to sweep the tack room before dinner.”
Uncle Barry waved a yellow bone in the air. “This is it. The big one. I’m about to call the university and see if they’ll send out a paleontologist ASAP. Maybe they’ll find a T. rex on our land. Better yet, they could discover a new species and name it after us.”
Will removed his Stetson, which had belonged to his grandfather. He played with the brim. “Let me guess. You rode out to the lake and found this near the fence.”
His uncle’s gap-toothed smile widened. “You feel it in your bones, don’t you? This is it. The one that’ll put the Silver Horseshoe on the map. We’ll sell tours. Tourists who visit Violet Ridge and the dude ranch will stop here. I can see the gift shop now—T-shirts, mugs and dinosaur toys.”
“I gave that to Rocket last week.” How an experienced rancher couldn’t tell the difference between a dog bone and an ancient dinosaur fossil was beyond Will.
A month ago, Barry had caught mining fever. Will had been forced to explain the difference between his uncle’s newfound galena rock and actual silver. Barry had just enough time to cancel a visit from the geologist with the mining corporation he’d contacted. Two months ago, they hadn’t been so lucky. An oil company sent out a representative who’d been quite upset when the famed puddle stemmed from the UTV’s burned out piston ring rather than a gusher.
“Are you sure?” The more Barry waved the bone around, the more excited Rocket became. “I was sure this was big. Really, really big.”
Will nodded, and he threw his arm around his uncle’s shoulders. “Maybe next time.”
Although he hoped there wouldn’t be one. Still, he granted his uncle some slack. When Will’s parents died in an accident eight months ago, Barry had quit his position as a cook at another ranch and returned to the Silver Horseshoe. Same as Will had left the rodeo for good and come home.
“Why don’t you give Rocket his bone?”
The color drained from Barry’s ruddy cheeks, and he threw the bone in a perfect arc. Rocket caught it in midair and trotted away, his black-and-white tail wagging with aplomb. “I was sure that would solve our money problems.”
Barry removed his wire-rimmed glasses and stared at them. Will squeezed his uncle’s shoulders. “Thanks, but I’ll manage that with determination and muscle work, okay?”
Barry replaced his glasses and scratched his forehead, the gray in his hair far more plentiful than the dark brown that matched Will’s. “You’re doing more than the rest of us put together.” Will kept listening, but scowled. “You need a day off.”
“Ranchers don’t get days off.” Still, Will far preferred working here every day to being stuck in a cubicle without a view of the expansive Rocky Mountains. This land was the reason he woke before sunrise. This land was part of his blood.
“Maybe so, but there are six of us. We all pull our weight.” Barry rolled up his flannel shirtsleeves.
“Thanks, Uncle Barry. I appreciate it.” Now, if only that effort translated to results, Will might sleep for more than five hours a night.
“Dinner will be ready soon. I’m whipping up my special jalapeño corn bread as a side for the chili.” Barry scooted toward the exit. “Next time, though, I promise I’ll hit on something really big.”
Will replaced his Stetson on his head and patted Tuxedo. “I can hardly wait,” he muttered under his breath.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice caught Will by surprise.
A blonde in capris and a frilly floral tank top waved at him from the open entrance. Those strappy sandals with three-inch heels were inappropriate for the weather, let alone a stable where a horse’s hoof could inflict serious damage. Slender and shivering, she didn’t hail from the Centennial State. He was sure of that. She’d probably taken a wrong turn and ended up at the Silver Horseshoe instead of the nearby expensive dude ranch.
“After you return to the main road, head north for fifteen miles. You can’t miss the entrance to the Lazy River Dude Ranch.” He pointed north, casually dismissing her.
Rocket, however, had other plans and greeted the pretty visitor. She held her hand to the dog’s nose. His loyal ranch dog allowed her to pet him. The stranger then straightened and smiled, her dazzling white teeth nearly perfect except for one small chip on her upper right canine. Now, why would he notice that? “Isn’t this the Silver Horseshoe Ranch?”
The slight Southern lilt of her voice was another giveaway she didn’t hail from around here.
Another shiver took hold of her, and Will shrugged off his jacket. “Here. It’s better than nothing.”
She drew closer and accepted it. The brightness of the woman’s blue eyes reminded him of his mother’s favorite bluebells. This was the first spring since he’d learned to ride that he hadn’t presented Mom with a bouquet of wildflowers on her birthday.
“Thank you kindly for the loan.” She sniffed the air. “Whoa! That’s a mighty fragrant cologne.” Her chuckle told him the horsey aroma didn’t offend her.
While the jacket fit him like a glove, it was more like a dress on her.
“Tell the manager of the Lazy River it’s mine. He’ll return it to me.” Will pointed at the tack room. “If you’ll excuse me, I have chores to do. During calving season, every minute counts.”
“Aren’t you Mr. Sullivan, the owner of this ranch?” She snapped the buttons of his jacket while he nodded. “I know I’m late, but I have a good excuse.”
“Late for what?” Rocket sidled up to the woman again, and Will whistled for him. “Rocket, stop being a nuisance.”
“He’s not, and I promise I have a good reason for missing our appointment. It’s been thirty hours of constant layovers and airplane cancellations. On the bright side, I spent the night at O’Hare International Airport and enjoyed my first real Chicago hot dog. If the plane hadn’t been delayed, I wouldn’t have experienced that.”
Somehow, eight seconds with this woman were even more dizzying than bull riding in the rodeo. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why.
He whistled once more and patted his leg. With reluctance, Rocket returned to his side. “What’s your purpose at the Silver Horseshoe?”
He still hadn’t caught her name.
“Didn’t you get my texts? You didn’t return any of them.”
Will scowled, his suspicions rising. “It’s calving season, and I’ve been occupied in the northeast pasture all day. I didn’t make any appointments.”
“Aren’t you Barry Sullivan, the owner?” She pulled up the jacket sleeve and offered a slender hand with four silver rings and a manicure. “Pleased to meet you.”
He folded his arms, the flannel shielding him from the slight nip that was gaining in intensity. “I’m his nephew, Will.”
“Oh, the foreman.” That smile widened once more. “You have a charming uncle.”
Speaking of charming uncles, Barry returned to the stables, a jalapeño in one hand and a block of cheddar in the other. “Hey, Will. Do you want my special extra hot corn bread or just the plain boring kind?” He glanced their way and executed a swift U-turn.
Will wasn’t fooled or deterred. “Uncle Barry, you have a visitor.”
Barry’s shoulders went up as if he knew he was busted. “If this is who I think it is, this could be big, really big. It could be the answer to all of our money problems. Don’t say no yet.”
Why not take an ad out on the front page of the Violet Ridge Weekly Gazette? Better yet, Barry could plaster Will’s economic status on the internet.
The woman looked at Barry, then her gaze met Will’s. “I don’t understand. Could someone please explain what’s happening? And you should be expecting me. I’m Kelsea Carruthers with EverWind, the nation’s fastest growing wind turbine supplier.”
“Will, I may have exaggerated my position to EverWind a little, but I haven’t steered you wrong yet. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”
Will bit back his groan. He’d heard those words from his uncle’s mouth too often. Thank goodness his father left him sole ownership of the ranch. Otherwise, Barry would have signed over the land for some daring deal that promised a huge return. The Sullivan family dreamed big and schemed bigger.
He went to jam his hands in his coat pockets, only to remember he’d lent this woman his favorite jacket. She’d come to Colorado woefully unprepared. “I’m the owner of the Silver Horseshoe.”
With his rodeo earnings almost gone, he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d claim that title.
“O-kay.” That Southern drawl kicked up again. “You’re the sole owner of the ranch, and you’re the uncle?”
She pointed at Will, then Barry, and each of them nodded in return.
“I have a mountain of work to do. If you’ll excuse me, the road will take you back to the highway.” Dismissive words, but this was calving season, the most vital time of the year. This could make or break his ability to keep the ranch going.
A small but forceful hand grasped his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Then my business is with you. Besides, I’m wearing your coat. You wouldn’t want me taking it back to Georgia, would you?”
Her grin matched the light lilt of her voice.
He didn’t have time for wild schemes that wouldn’t pay off. “Once you warm up in your rental, you can leave it on that post.”
Even with his harsh tone, she didn’t flinch or cower. He gave her credit for that. Maybe the butterfly had a backbone of steel. Too bad he wouldn’t be able to find out what she was made of, but he had a tack room to clean. He tipped the brim of his Stetson in her direction.
“Good day.”
DESPITE WHAT HER father believed, Kelsea Carruthers wasn’t a quitter. She hurried after Barry Sullivan and found herself in a spacious kitchen fitted with sunflower-yellow appliances and mahogany cabinets. The faded wallpaper took her back to cooking lessons at her grandmother’s house.
Mr. Sullivan bustled around the area where the spicy aroma of cilantro and cumin filled the air. “Make yourself at home.”
She removed Will’s jacket and hung it on an empty hook near the mudroom. Somehow, she had to win an audience with the gruff rancher. The wind turbine would surely sell itself once Will heard about its environmental attributes and handsome payout in exchange for the use of a small parcel of his land.
Last year, she’d faced tougher customers than Will at the Georgia bar where she’d waited tables for three months. Then one night, she’d arrived for her shift, only to find herself replaced with the manager’s girlfriend. Her father had stared at her with disappointment over her latest dismissal, but she couldn’t be blamed for that, could she?
Before that, she’d lasted for a week as a short-order cook at a seafood restaurant. The first evening she sampled the manager’s special and ended up in the hospital. Turned out she was highly allergic to catfish. Who knew? Not her, since fish of any kind was never her favorite. The owner told Kelsea she could continue working there, but why risk another ER visit? Prior to that, she’d enjoyed a short stint as a gift wrapper for a department store. Seasonal jobs and serious allergic reactions were genuine reasons to pursue other employment. At least to her, they seemed reasonable. To her father? Dr. Preston Carruthers simply shook his head and pursed his lips when she told him she’d lost yet another job.
Preston had taken it upon himself to aid with her career path. To anyone looking in, his phone call to his college roommate, asking about a position for Kelsea, would seem like an act of filial love. The problem was Preston never did anything of the sort for her two perfect half siblings. Her half brother, Adam, had followed in Preston’s footsteps in medicine while her half sister, Alexis, was about to graduate with her doctorate. Kelsea had never seen her father look at either of them with the same disappointment.
For the past six months, EverWind had gainfully employed Kelsea as their newest assistant project manager. Reporting to their training facility outside of Atlanta, she studied ecology and the different models of wind turbines. She’d burned the midnight oil poring over machine specifications and plat maps to check on land boundaries and divisions. Then she’d visited several existing facilities where EverWind’s field engineers taught her how to gauge the factors in site selection. Her probation period depended on her leasing land for the company’s turbines.
Intent on making her father as proud of her as he was of her half siblings, Kelsea intended on keeping this job. Her future depended on Barry Sullivan signing his name to a contract. Scratch that. Now she’d be dealing with his nephew, Will, the rightful owner of the Silver Horseshoe. He hadn’t given her time to introduce herself and plead her case. She intended to change that. But how?
The best path to Will seemed to be through Mr. Sullivan.
Kelsea approached the older gentleman and tugged on her winsome smile, the one that didn’t have any effect on her father but otherwise got her out of tight jams. “Mr. Sullivan, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Call me Barry.” He laid the cheddar and the jalapeños on the chopping board. “Sorry you’ve come all this way for nothing.”
She chuckled. He didn’t know her if he thought she’d give up that easily.
“I don’t have anywhere else to be.” She pointed at the cheese. “Are you making supper?”
“Yep. Please stay and eat with us. That is, if my nephew didn’t scare you off. It’s the least I can do for giving you the wrong impression about the Silver Horseshoe.” His wide cheeks reddened beneath his circular wire-rimmed glasses. “Okay, I lied, but I thought Will would come around once he realized how big this is.”
“How can I help with supper?” She picked out a pink gingham apron from the hook.
“You’re our guest. Can I get you anything?” Barry opened a cabinet and produced a cheese grater. “Would you like water or pop?”
“No thanks. I find cooking and talking go hand in hand. If nothing else, I might learn something new about your ranch operations.” Or, at the very least, uncover some way to penetrate his nephew’s prickly defenses.
“Can you grate cheese while I mince jalapeños for corn bread?”
She donned the apron over her capris. Yesterday, she’d paired her spring outfit with a light sweater, perfect for a hot and humid Atlanta morning. Delays from a weather system led to hours of waiting at the airport. In desperation, she had accepted a flight with a layover in Chicago. There the airline had bumped her for a medical emergency. Somewhere along the line, she’d misplaced her sweater. On top of everything, the airline lost her luggage, and she was stuck in these clothes for the time being. When no one at the ranch answered her texts, she drove straight through without stopping to buy necessities. Depending on what time she arrived at her hotel, she’d be sleeping in these clothes.
At least the kitchen was warm. In more ways than one. She chatted amiably with the older gentleman while grating cheese. He accepted her minor change to his recipe with thanks. Soon, the corn bread was baking in the oven.
Barry hustled around the kitchen, pulling out flour, butter and other ingredients. “Can you peel and slice peaches for cobbler?”
“My grandmother would turn over in her grave if I couldn’t.” Kelsea accepted the peeler and reached for a plump peach. “What’s the deal with your nephew, Will?”
“My brother and his wife died last year, and Will inherited the ranch. My nephew is rather strong willed and doesn’t take any time to enjoy what’s around him.” He whisked the dry ingredients together.
“How so?” Kelsea finished peeling her first peach and reached for another, her hands already sticky with juice.
“He prefers to do everything himself. It makes it rather hard to do anything, even court someone.” He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a stick of butter.
“Him or you?” Kelsea’s curiosity was piqued.
Mr. Sullivan’s ruddy face turned a bright red. “I’ve been sweet on someone for quite a while. Ever since her divorce, she’s steered clear of dating.”
“How long has she been divorced?” She handed him the peeled peaches.
“Ten years.” He found a saucepan and added sugar and salt to the fruit. “Listen to me blabbering away to someone I just met. Mind you, it’s safe to tell you all this as you won’t be staying much longer although ’tis a pity.”
His brown eyes seemed to size her up. For once, she didn’t find herself feeling like she was lacking. “Why do you say that?”
He stirred the peach compote and then stuck the cold butter in the microwave. “You’d be good for my nephew, although he’d be the last to admit anything of the sort.” The microwave dinged. She wiped her hands and handed him the melted butter. “Thanks.”
She’d only been there five minutes but already ascertained quite a lot. Kelsea had had enough of playing second fiddle in her life, and she’d never settle for coming in last in a relationship or anything else.
“Thanks, but I’ll stick to business. When’s a good time tomorrow to deliver my sales pitch to Will? If you have any tips about breaking down some of his barriers, I’d be grateful.”
“The peaches are done. Now, about my nephew.”
He added milk to the dry ingredients and then poured the batter into a cast-iron skillet. With a measured hand, he layered the fruit above that and sprinkled cinnamon over the top. Then he traded the cobbler for the corn bread, which he placed on a trivet. The warm smell filled the air.
She waited for some pearl of wisdom. “You’re drawing a blank, too, huh?”
He chuckled. “Maybe you can figure him out over dinner and enlighten me.”
The cobbler baked, and Barry gave Kelsea a tour of the house. They returned as the oven timer dinged. A tall lean cowboy walked into the room. It wasn’t Will.
He removed his hat and held it near his chest. His longish brown hair was streaked with gray, the same as his bushy mustache. “Howdy, ma’am. I’m Steve.”
Barry inserted his hand into an oven mitt and removed the cobbler. The scent of cinnamon and peaches made her stomach grumble. “Steve’s the ranch foreman.”
Kelsea introduced herself, and Steve hung back. “Calico cut her leg, and Will’s cleaning the wound. He wants you and your guest to eat dinner without him.”
“Calico belonged to Will’s mother. That mare is the sweetest paint horse around.” Barry wiped his hands with a dish towel. “Is the vet on her way?”
“The scrape isn’t deep enough to need stitches. Will’s concerned about the possibility of swelling. I told him his father would have trusted me to tend to Calico, but he had none of that. Said she’s his responsibility now.” He dipped his head in her direction. “Ma’am.”
Steve departed, the spurs on his boots jangling behind him. Will’s excuse sounded manufactured to her. That didn’t deter her. She’d regroup and try again tomorrow.
“The cowhands will be here in about fifteen minutes for dinner, Miss Carruthers.”
Kelsea reached for her phone and the rental car fob on the counter. “Thank you for the kind dinner invitation, but I need to check in at my hotel.” And buy a toothbrush and maybe a spare set of clothes and pajamas. Fatigue from her extended series of flights was catching up fast, and the logistics of possessing only the clothes on her back loomed large.
While she wasn’t giving up, Will’s attitude was a definite setback. How could she convince him this deal would benefit them both if she couldn’t get near him to talk?
Barry reached into the refrigerator, pulling out sour cream and scallions. “I’m sorry I dragged you all the way here for nothing. When do you return to Atlanta?”
“Not for a week. This isn’t over by any stretch of the imagination.”
“Would you like some chili and corn bread to take with you? Least I can do.”
“Thanks, but save it for tomorrow. I’ll be back.” Patience might not be her strong suit, but she’d learned it from the master, her neurosurgeon father.
Barry walked with her to the front porch. Goose bumps immediately pebbled her skin, the temperature dropping fast. She rubbed her arms for warmth.
“You’re welcome to eat here any time while you’re still in town. Make sure you drink plenty of water tonight. Higher elevation, you know.” Barry’s advice was cut short as they saw Will Sullivan, all six feet of him, heading their way.
Will wore his thick brown hair an inch or two longer than stylish back east, but in Colorado that length was most likely the gold standard. The hint of dark stubble across his firm jaw might be menacing to some, but not to Preston’s daughter. Fierce determination shone in Will’s brown eyes, recognizable since she was equally resolved that he team up with EverWind.
Most people took one look at her long layered blond hair and dismissed her. Then they discovered she wasn’t as easy to detach from her objective as they believed.
“Hello, Will. Lucky for you, my calendar’s wide open.” She raised her phone and opened to her schedule. “What time tomorrow works best for you to hear my pitch? I’m staying at the Violet Ridge Inn, and I have a rental car.”
“Before sunrise, Rocket and I are heading to the northeast pasture and moving the cows and calves to fresh grass. Won’t have time.” Will glared, but Kelsea wasn’t deterred.
“You have to eat, don’t you?” She broadened her grin and tried to meet his gaze.
“Your father always made sure everyone was well-nourished around calving season.” Barry pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses with his left index finger.
Will’s nostrils widened, and he scuffed the ground with the toe of his dusty boots. “You might want to approach the Double I Ranch or even the dude ranch. They might be interested in whatever you’re trying to sell me.”
This was the final straw. There was busy, and there was just plain rude.
Kelsea thanked Mr. Sullivan for his hospitality. “If you’ll please give me a minute with your nephew.” Will wasn’t the only one around here who could insert steel in his voice when needed.
“Try to get her to stay for dinner,” Mr. Sullivan addressed Will and then entered the house, muttering something under his breath.
Kelsea waited until the older man was out of earshot. “Your uncle has done nothing but be kind to me. I wish I could say the same about you, but you’re not running me off that easily. I’ll be back every day for as long as it takes. Mr. Sullivan extended me an open invitation for meals.”
“Then I’ll eat in the stables where boots are required. I don’t allow anyone in there wearing those strappy thingies, no matter how attractive their ankles are.” He stopped short, as if he’d crossed a line by admitting he’d noticed her ankles.
While part of her was flattered, part of her was steaming at his words. “For your information, the airline lost my luggage. They’ll hopefully deliver it to Violet Ridge in the next few days. These strappy sandals are easy to get in and out of during security, but thank you for the compliment about my ankles. I’m proud I spent eight years as a cheerleader, four in high school and four in college. Cheering is a sport that requires agility, balance and poise. I can tumble with the best.” Her cheeks grew warm despite the cold that was starting to impact her toes. “I’m guessing your father and uncle are cut from the same cloth. They extend guests a warm welcome.”
His swift intake of breath showed she hit a nerve. “You’re right about one thing. My uncle is like his late brother when it comes to finances. It’s all I can do to turn this ranch into a successful enterprise.”
As much as she’d have liked to continue this conversation, she needed the car’s heater and a hot meal. “Then listen to my pitch for EverWind tomorrow.”
“I can’t afford whatever you’re selling.” His voice strained as if he were admitting some kind of defeat.
“If you’d listen instead of jumping to conclusions, you’d find out EverWind wants to lease your land. We’ll be paying you.” She brushed past him and kept going. “Until tomorrow.”
