DEFIANT (A WESTERN BAD BOY ROMANCE) (7 page)

K
atie hasn’t looked too happy
the past few days.

It's a cold, gray, dreary day in Coal Butte. The threat of a snowstorm is looming. All of us—me, Katie, Vince, a crowd of local ranchers and a photographer that Katie flew in—are gathered around in a muddy field, waiting for the reporters to arrive for the press conference.

I’m sure the weather’s not helping her mood. Katie's standing alone with her arms crossed, looking down at her muddy boots. She's from the city and probably can’t stand being out in the cold slush and cow manure.

But I know that's not the whole story.

Something's wrong: she's clearly unhappy and under a lot of stress. She was crying the other day. And she's always the last one to leave the office every night, whether she needs to be or not. It's like she's running from something, and work is the only outlet she has.

I know it's none of my business, but it eats at me anyway.

I stop looking at her and let my gaze wander over the sparsely populated valley, and the towering mountains in the background.

The Gunnison Valley, and Coal Butte, looks a lot like Jackson did when I was a kid...before the entire place got turned into a vacation destination for millionaires. Here, there's not a golf course or gated community in sight.

Right here, right now, in this mucky, desolate field, is the commencement of our public relations campaign. Vince is going to unveil part of his Caddis Flats plan, a land trust to limit development in the valley and preserve the working ranches that have been here since the area was first settled in the 1850s. With a conservation arrangement first and foremost on the table, we hope to sway the attitudes of the town folk in favor of our grand plan.

I'm on strict orders to stay on the margins. Both Katie and Vince think I'm a liability. And Katie believes that Vince, who really does look like a steely-eyed cowboy from the Old West, should be the public face of our campaign.

That's fine with me. I think I'll slip away during the press conference, maybe go have a look at the town and the proposed construction site for Caddis Flats.

"When the hell is the press getting here?" Vince rumbles. "Every single hayseed in the valley showed up. Where's the Coal Butte News Tribune?"

All I can do is shrug.

Off in the distance we hear the roar of a vehicle with a broken exhaust system. Not too long after a rusty Toyota pickup rolls in. Once parked, a reporter and photographer step out. Katie waves them over.

We soon learn that the Gunnison Chronicle, a newspaper not from the immediate area, has showed up. Even though it’s a bigger paper, it’s not the one that will sway the minds of the voters of Coal Butte.

K
atie is irritated
. Her voice rises, "But where's the Coal Butte reporter? This is a really important local issue! They’re the ones we need present to inform the people of Coal Butte."

“Hey, relax, sister. I don’t know,” the reporter shrugs.

A rancher standing next to us grumbles, "There's some kind of fundraising thing at the ski resort." He kicks a piece of cow dung. "That's where the Coal Butte paper is I bet. Guess some people don't want the good part of the plan publicized."

"But it's important! There's nothing not to love about it!" Katie is having a meltdown.

I look away. Of course, the opposing forces, presumably rich homeowners who don't want Caddis Flats built, are pulling their own strings. I know how this game works. The reporter was probably paid not to come—the fewer good things reported about the development the better.

"Let's get started," Vince says, unruffled. “We can still get some quality footage filmed for our benefit. Katie, you work with the videographer—I’ll talk to the Gunnison Chronicle.”

The crowd breaks up, and everyone ambles away to their respective tasks to be directed by Katie and Vince.

I decide it’s the perfect time to go for a little stroll.

But I haven't moved fifty feet before a little kid in dirty overalls, probably about eleven or twelve years old, comes running up, almost falling in the mud.

His hands are covered in blood, and there's a panicked look on his face.

What the hell?!

"Hey! Everything all right, kiddo?"

He shakes his head
no.

"
H
old on a second
. Stop shooting. Where's Clif? I want to talk to him."

I can't believe it. This rollout was supposed to go smoothly, ease the way for the town meeting in two weeks. Instead, a key local reporter didn't even show. Clif assured me that he had talked to him already, and the reporter told him he would be here.

"Anybody seen Clif?" I holler.

"I think I saw him running towards the barn," my photographer Cory says, looking up from his camera.

"Ugh! Let's go find him." I squish towards the barn in my boots, wondering if people out here don't ever get tired of smelling cow feces. Leave it to Clif to ruin everything. He's obviously unreliable, immature...and maybe even spineless enough to run away the moment I start yelling about the reporter not showing up.

"Clif!" I shout. No answer. I can hear a cow bellowing in the barn, over and over. "Jesus. Are the locals murdering an animal or something?"

"Probably. Maybe Clif's doing it," Cory jokes.

I roll my eyes and look towards the barn where the peculiar wailing is coming from. "Are we even allowed in there? It looks gross."

Cory shrugs. The barn door is ajar. Cory walks towards it, leaving me in a puddle of slush and manure. The infernal bleating in the barn doesn't stop for a second.

"Hey Katie, come on in here!" Cory yells. “Hurry!”

I run up to the barn. Entering the cavernous place I rush to Cory’s side, where he’s standing outside a stall. My eyes grow big as they take in a big white and brown heifer kneeling in the straw, and Clif, along with a young kid in overalls, is kneeling right behind her, helping her give birth.

"We should get a vet," the kid says to Clif in a panic. "The cord's all tangled. I seen it before and the calf died!"

Cory is having a field day snapping pictures, but I'm not sure what to do except stand and stare.

"The calf's presenting all wrong," Clif says evenly. His coat is lying in the corner of the stall near a pile of dung, and his white shirtsleeves are rolled up. His expensive tie, shirt, trousers and shoes are soiled, scuffed and wet. "We'll have to turn it in the birth canal, and then we can deal with the cord as soon as it appears. Do you have any birthing gloves?”

“Yeah, follow me!”

The rush out, leaving me and Cory standing there. “Did you get any of that?” I ask.

“Sure did. This ought to look pretty good in a press release.”

Clif and the boy reappear a minute later, carrying a coil of rope, some rags, and a large package of gloves. The cow stands up and bellows, swiping at Clif with her muzzle.

"Shit! You got a calving gate?" Clif asks.

The wide-eyed kid shakes his head
no
.

"Okay, it's been a while since I did this, but don't worry. Let's just give her a second to settle down."

As the cow quiets a bit, Clif reaches for the gloves and works them on. They are huge, covering his entire arm up to his shoulder. “Okay, keep her steady for me,” he says.

The kid moves to the cow’s side and talks to her calmly, petting her.

Clif reaches inside up to his elbows in an attempt to reposition the baby. I can't stand the sight or smell, but I’m locked into place, fascinated. I’ve never seen anything like this.

"Okay, that ought to do it. The little guy should be coming shortly. That’s about all I can do,” he pants, backing away. “Where are the shears?”

The boy hands him a gigantic pair of scissors, and in a few moments the calf begins to appear out of the birthing canal.

“Oh my gosh,” I whisper, captivated.

“There!” Clif says as he cuts the umbilical cord without hurting the calf. “That’s all we can do. Let’s hope it makes it.”

Both he and the boy step a few paces back, and in short time the calf is out on the ground.

“It’s a girl!” the boy declares.

She looks so small and helpless. Her eyes are closed tight. She's covered in slime and I have no idea if that tiny limp body is even alive. Clif kneels close by in the straw and examines her.

"Poor thing, been through hell already."

"Mister, do you think she made it?" the boy asks, bent over at the waist with hands on knees.

“I don’t know.”

The cow hobbles to her feet and turns to see her motionless baby. The little calf's nostrils dilate, then close, just once.

"Is she dead?" I ask anxiously, taking a step closer. Tears well in my eyes and my lips start to tremble. Her diminutive crumpled body looks so...so helpless, so in need of cuddles and love. And after all I've been through with my father, I just can't handle the sight of a life lost right now, especially one so innocent and pure.

Mom nuzzles baby, and a few seconds later begins to lick baby clean.

"No, she's not dead," Clif murmurs. “But if we would have been delayed another minute it would have been too late."

The calf opens its eyes, and I practically stagger over in relief. “Oh my God.” I start to cry. For a second there, when the calf was lying limp in the straw, I thought my heart was going to stop.

"This is PR gold," Cory says quietly.

"You saved her, mister," the boy says excitedly.

"Come on," Clif says, getting up and taking the boy by the shoulder. "Let's leave the mother alone to nurse."

We all walk out. Clif closes the barn door, and he and the kid head back to the house to clean up. Cory and I return to the field, where everyone's waiting with confused, expectant faces, wondering about our absence.

"Look at this one," Cory says, showing me the screen on his camera. The calf is looking up at its mother for the first time, and they're touching noses as Clif looks on smiling, his fancy clothes smeared and grubby. The little kid looks so relieved you'd think he was about to topple over.

"Awww, look at that little cutie. You couldn't stage better PR than this."

"I'll call the Coal Butte paper," I say. "No, actually, I'll have the Gunnison reporter do it. I bet both papers will run that picture. It's too good not to."

"
W
e're all invited
to dinner here," I tell Katie, nodding towards the ranch house. The press conference has just wrapped up. The Coal Butte News Tribune came after all—apparently they got a flat tire along the way. Katie's mood seemed buoyed for a while, but now that the festivities have come to an end she's in the dumps again.

"That's alright. I'm tired from everything. I feel tense. I think I'll just head back to the hotel for tonight."

“Anything I can do for you?” I wish I could cheer her up.

“No. I’m good.” She begins walking towards her rental vehicle.

"Alright. Have a good night."

I watch her walk back to the truck by herself. For a minute I’m sure who’s more sad, her or me.

"
T
hank you ma'am
. It's way better than my momma's mashed potatoes."

"Don't listen to him," Vince says wryly, cracking a smile. "He’s lying. But they are excellent!”

It’s true: my uncle, Vince’s father, raised us—neither of us had mothers.

Everyone laughs. It's been a fun night, but I can't stop wondering about Katie. I wish I could do something for her. I hope she’s ok.

Ever since I returned to Wyoming I've always handled the more human properties of our business. If one of our managers has a problem, they can call me on my personal phone and be certain I'll give them my time. And when Jacey got dumped by her pro-skier boyfriend last year, I made sure a mountain of flowers showed up at her desk, along with a note to keep her head up. Yeah, it doesn't jibe with my bad boy player image or whatever, but someone has to give our enterprise a human touch. Vince, the mastermind, sure as hell won't do it. Or more likely, can’t do it.

"Excuse me for a second," I say to everyone present, wiping my mouth and pushing my chair back.

I walk into the hallway to make a private call. "When's the next commercial flight to Jackson? Not for three days? Great, thank you. Have a great night.”

Then I call the pilot of our company's new private jet. "Hey Frank, can you ground the plane tomorrow? Make up some kind of excuse—like there's bugs in the engine to workout or something?"

I’ve got an idea that just might cheer Katie up a little.

A
fter dinner
, one of the ranchers gives Vince and I a lift into town. Dropping us off at our hotel, I text Katie and ask her of her whereabouts. She replies that she’s at the local coffee shop working. I head out to meet her.

"Hey," she greets when I pull up a chair at her corner table near a window. “How’d dinner go?”

“It was good, lot’s of fun. Too bad you missed out. But we got some bad news. Our plane is down. We won’t be able to return to Jackson tomorrow."

“When will it be fixed?”

“Can’t say for sure. Maybe two, three days.”

"Oh that’s too bad. I guess I'll keep analyzing our social media numbers in the meantime,” she says not looking away from her screen. “If you don't have anything particular for me to do, that is."

"You can take tomorrow off, if you want,” I suggest optimistically. “I think you could use it. Vince is talking about the specifics of the land trust with the town council tomorrow, but it's pretty technical. Not really up my alley, or yours."

"No, that’s ok. I really want to be productive for you guys, as long as you've got me hired on. Besides, what else am I supposed to do?"

Hmm. Time for a different approach. "Katie,” I say, shifting in my chair and facing her directly. “I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I want to call a ceasefire. I’m sorry for acting like an asshole, and I’m going to stop acting like a child. I promise. We need to wipe the slate clean and reestablish our professional boundaries. And quite frankly, I need to grow up some.“

"And can we forget we ever slept together?"

"Yeah. It's not important. Let's just make a fresh start so we can work together."

"Okay." She looks relieved. For the first time in a few days she smiles. "Deal," she holds out her hand.

"One more thing: the folks at the ranch want to take us riding. As a professional courtesy to them, I think you should join us. It would look good for the Seven Group.”

Her face turns downward. "I'd rather not, if you don’t mind. I've got a lot to do. And a lot going on personally."

"Katie, that's actually why I came looking for you tonight. Your personal life isn't any of my business and I’m certainly not here to pry, but I really think you could use some time off. Both Vince and I discussed it. You’ve been doing an impeccable job and working really hard, you really have. But we’re serious—we both think you need a break. Your outburst earlier today when the Coal Butte reporter didn’t show up illustrates to us that you need to step back a bit."

“Oh. Yeah.” She’s clearly embarrassed. “Sorry about that.” She looks down at the table.

“It’s no problem. No need to apologize. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I needed to say it.”

She's quiet for a second. I've got my fingers crossed she'll say yes.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think you're right. I do need a break. Thank you, Clif."

"Great! You’ve got to be careful, working all the time is going to give you an aneurysm."

"You don't even know what that word means," she flashes me a sardonic grin.

I give her a silly look, and it's enough to bring out yet another smile. Okay, now I'm hopeful. “Alright, here’s the deal then. You get some work done tomorrow morning if you want. But at noon we’re heading over to the ranch. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she nods.

“And there’ll be a famous hot spring to soak in midway through the ride, so if you’re interested in that, make sure to bring a swimsuit.”

She gives me a suspicious look. “Hey—this isn’t some ploy to see me naked again, is it?”

“Absolutely not!” I say with feigned contempt. “I haven’t the slightest desire to do any such thing! No, actually, it will be a guided tour with some other clients present. It’ll be a small group, no chance we could get into trouble.”

She giggles. “Okay. See you tomorrow then.”

“Great, see you tomorrow. Get some rest.”

W
hen we arrive
at the guest ranch the following day the horses are already saddled and waiting, along with two guides and a few other tourists.

"Hey Clif," one of the guides teases, "Saved our meanest horse for you, partner."

“Oh, geez, man, I don’t know,” I say, looking askance. “I’ve got a bad shoulder. Why don’t we give it to Katie here,” I joke.

Katie smiles nervously. "Don’t give it to me! I don't know how to ride one of these giant animals. I’d feel better on one of your Border Collies," she throws back.

"Don't worry," our guide smiles. "Our horses are all real gentle. And Clif will be able to show you the ropes."

I help her climb on, then mount my own horse, who snorts a little skittishly. "Easy, girl," I appease the old mare, patting her neck.

I then instruct Katie. "Just hold the reins, like this. Nothing to it. Pull this way to go left, this way to go right."

"Okay. Okay, I think I got it."

A few minutes later we're all riding up into the hills along a snowmobile track.

"It's beautiful out here." Katie says, smiling behind her sunglasses. "I'm nervous, though."

"Nothing to worry about it. Your horse is old and tame. It might stumble, but that's about it. I can stick close for now if you want so I can grab the reins if something happens."

"Okay."

We drift behind the rest of the group a couple paces, riding side-by-side. "I'm not used to being out in all this nature. I went on ski vacations when I was a kid, but that's about it."

"Which resort? I do a lot of skiing these days. I have to if I want to network. It's a thousand times better than golf, so I'm not complaining."

"Wolf Creek, in Colorado. Yeah, I saw your skis when I woke up that morning. I figured you were a rich, spoiled momma’s boy." She smiles again. Dammit, but she's got a beautiful smile. Positively radiant.

"I thought we were going to forget that ever happened."

"Oh yeah. Right. You probably think I'm some kind of freak now."

"Totally," I tease. She's relaxed for once. I tell her as much.

"It's my father," she confesses after we ride along a little while longer. We're cresting the ridge now, with views over the whole valley. It's a sunny day, clear and crisp. "He's dying. He had a heart attack that went untreated, and then a whole string of complications followed. He's been in the hospital since October. It’s been a stressful roller coaster of ride: one day the doctors say he's getting better, the next he's worse. I just wish he'd get better for real. The longer he's in there, the more I think..." her voice trails off.

"I'm sorry, Katie." I had no idea she was dealing with so much strain; she sure conceals it well.

"It's alright. I never had a mom. It was always just me and my dad growing up. After he got sick, a ton of responsibility fell on me. I don't want to lose him. I don’t have anybody else. It just doesn't feel like his time to go."

"I sort of know how you feel, I think. I lost my parents when I was young, too. Vince's dad raised me since I was ten."

She continues heavily: "The doctors keep saying they can give my father a new drug that was just developed. So far, they're only using it in Europe, so insurance is refusing to pay. God, if I could have back all the hours I've spent arguing with the insurance companies. He's on the transplant list now; they say if he gets the drug it'll keep him alive long enough to get a new heart. I can only pray."

"I had no idea you were going through all this. I'm really sorry."

"It’s fine. I just want to forget about it for a day, like you said."

"Sure. I'm happy you came."

I know she thinks I'm still an asshole. After all, I've got three years of recorded evidence on the Internet that proves just that. But I'm not looking to change her opinion. She doesn't need to know what a high regard I have for her. After all, the opinion of someone like me shouldn't matter to someone like her. She's the best woman I've ever met: smart, serious, uncommonly strong, and for some reason, completely oblivious to how beautiful she is. I'm lucky just to know her.

The path leaves the ridge and narrows down to single-file. I fall in behind Katie, and make sure to keep a watchful eye in case her horse becomes skittish. I don't know why I feel so protective—I’ve never felt this way before with any woman.

"Where are we going anyway?" Katie asks after several minutes of silence, as the trail wanders down towards a creek.

"Private hot spring. It's the reason this dude ranch makes a profit."

"Duh, that’s right. I forgot I packed my bikini last night in preparation for this."

By the time we get to the hot spring the others are in the water already, the horses hitched to a grove of pines.

"Come on in! The water's perfect," one of the tourist shouts. Everyone's in party mode already, wine glasses aloft.

The steamy water is indeed perfect. I can't help watching as Katie lowers herself in right next to me, in her bikini. Her hair is lifted off her neck, just like the first night I met her.