How to Wrangle a Cowboy (20 page)

Would he have a partner like that someday? He hoped so. He’d always thought he was too damaged and prickly to find a wife, but if Ridge could talk a woman into marrying him somehow, surely Shane could. Ridge was about as prickly and damaged as a man could be, and he rarely talked at all. Yet he’d hit the relationship jackpot with Sierra.

The thought of Ridge reminded Shane he’d just about promised to go back to Decker Ranch. He really ought to tell Lindsey, since she’d need to hire a new foreman. But she spoke before he could put his thoughts into words.

“So you think I should sell that land so I can hold off on selling cattle until fall?”

He nodded. “You want those calves to fatten up over the summer, get up to market weight.”

She was silent for a while. Now was the time to tell her he was giving notice.

Now.

He cleared his throat and turned to face her, only to catch a tear rolling down her cheek.

“What’s the matter?”

He tried not to sound exasperated. He really did. But women were like beautiful, elaborate fountains that spewed emotions instead of water. They were pretty to look at, but you never knew when you might get splashed. And their shut-off valves were in some mysterious location unknown to him.

“Nothing.” She sniffed and shook her head, as if she was shaking off her emotions. “It’s stupid.”

At least she knew that. Self-awareness was a good thing.

Lindsey glanced at him, then looked away, as if she was trying to decide if she should confide in him. He tried to look encouraging, though he wasn’t sure what that would look like. Should he smile? Or should he look somber, like he was taking her seriously?

He settled on a sort of dead-eyed, mouth-breather look. Apparently she’d confide in just about anyone, because she launched into her story anyway.

“Did I ever tell you what I planned to do with my life when I was ten?”

“I figured you wanted to be a vet.”

“I did, but that wasn’t all.” She smiled, and the faraway look that lit her eyes reminded him of Grace when she was in one of her dream states. “I wanted turn the Lazy Q into an animal sanctuary.”

“Like Grace and her horses?”

She nodded. “And for dogs and cats too. Rabbits, goats—whatever needed help.”

He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “The stuff we think up when we’re kids.”

The dreamy look in her eyes faded like fog burning off under a summer sun.

An
angry
summer sun. Evidently, he’d gone and said something stupid again.

“I still wish I could do that. That’s part of the reason I want to hang on to the ranch.”

He tried to wrestle his face into some expression that would convey concern and understanding, but he had a feeling he just looked confused, like a cow that had just been hit by a train.

At least he was being honest. He
felt
like a cow that had just been hit by a train.

She wanted the ranch so she could run forty thousand acres of rabbits and goats? Rabbits were the bane of his existence, nibbling at the lettuce in Grace’s vegetable garden. He wasn’t allowed to kill them, but she wanted her lettuce to reach the table without telltale tooth marks.

And goats? His only experience with a goat had been at a neighboring ranch, where he’d been working on a branding as a teenager. He’d answered the call of nature in what he thought was an unused pasture, and been surprised by an amorous billy goat, who apparently mistook him for a lady goat. He’d made the world speed record for pants-around-the-ankles running, much to the amusement of his brothers.

He couldn’t imagine why anyone, anywhere would ever want a goat.

“I think life is harsh for everyone,” Lindsey continued. “But it’s hard to think of those innocent little cows being taken off to slaughter. It must be so terrible for them. Their lives here are so quiet, you know? Out grazing in the field with their mamas. But then they load them up and take them away, all crowded together in those awful dirty trucks you see on the highway—it’s terrible. They must be so scared.”

Holy crap. Now that she put it that way, he hated to think of it too. But he wasn’t about to say so. Women were supposed to have tender hearts, and men were there to resist that kind of sentimentality and keep things functioning.

“It’s business,” he said. “I didn’t see you crying over that steak the other night.”

She looked away, and he knew she was blinking back tears. Damn it, he’d been rough and unsympathetic, just like he always was. He ran roughshod over Cody’s feelings sometimes too. Why was he such a jerk?

Tentatively, he reached out to comfort her, then realized what a bad idea that was. But she turned just as he pulled away, catching his hand in midair, so he was forced to do something. He settled for patting her back, but he felt clumsy and awkward. He was more likely to dislodge a choking hazard than comfort her.

Sure enough, she turned away, her shoulders shaking. Hell, one tear was understandable, but was she full-on
crying
? Over
cattle
? This woman could never be a rancher. He was surprised she could be a vet.

Then she bent double and clutched her stomach, and the truth dawned on him. She wasn’t crying. Her shoulders were shaking because she was trying not to
laugh
.

What the hell? Her emotional fountain must have sprung a leak. Now all those girly feelings were pouring out willy-nilly, soaking him in female touchy-feely stuff.

“It’s—it’s okay.” She gasped, struggling to catch her breath. “You don’t have to comfort me. It’s just…” She swallowed a giggle. “Sympathy’s not exactly your strong suit, is it?”

“Hey, I do all right. When Cody hurts himself, I do the whole Band-Aid thing.”

“Do you kiss it?”

He ignored the question. Everybody knew that was a mom thing, but his kid didn’t have a mom, so he did what had to be done. It wasn’t something a man talked about, though.

“You’re a grown woman,” he said. “I’m sure you can deal with your feelings on your own.” He looked away. “Hell, I’ve been comforting myself since I was six years old. Younger even.”

“Cody’s age.”

Desperate to change the subject, he looked over at Cody, who was struggling with something squirmy inside his shirt. Either the kid was suddenly pregnant with a very wiggly alien child, or he was hiding Stormy under his shirt.

“Dad, I’m going to bed.”

“Voluntarily?” Shane stood up and pulled the boy close, grabbing for his belly. “Who are you, and what have you done with Cody?”

“I’m Cody,” the boy squealed. He kept his hands crossed protectively over his stomach, where the puppy wriggled and whined. Shane pretended not to notice as they wrestled.

“You can’t be Cody. Cody never volunteers to go to bed.” He started to lift the boy’s shirt. Screaming with delight, the boy ran into the house, pursued by his father. “You’re an alien pod! I know it! Come back here, you alien pod, you!”

“I’m me! I’m
me
!” The little boy scampered up the ladder to the loft, the puppy yapping in the bouncing, swaying belly of the tucked-in shirt.

By the time Shane reached the loft, his son was already in bed, and the puppy had disappeared. The only sign of Stormy was a telltale wiggle near Cody’s left thigh as Shane sat down on the side of the bed.

“You feeling okay, Son?” he asked, keeping his expression serious.

“Fine.”

A suspiciously puppy-shaped lump began making its way up the bed.

“Thought you might be having some tummy trouble,” Shane said. “It seems mighty…active down there.”

“Nope.” The dog’s furry little face emerged from under the covers. Cody tugged the sheet over it. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Shane stroked the boy’s hair. He’d planned to let the puppy sleep with Cody anyway. There hadn’t been much softness or warmth in Shane’s childhood, and not much love either, but for Cody, life would be different.

Shane’s own life was different now too. Opening his world to Cody seemed to have let in all sorts of trouble. For instance, Haycat insisted on sleeping on his bed, and he fell asleep every night to the comforting rumble of her purr. He’d never admit it to Lindsey, but he’d grown attached to the little thing.

A barn cat. Who would have guessed?

“Sleep tight.” He bent and kissed Cody’s forehead. The gesture felt like a sacrament, even with the puppy peeking at him from under the covers.

“Okay.” The boy blinked, so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open. “But, Dad?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Lindsey’s really nice.”

“Mm-hm.” He wasn’t going to comment on that. He’d sworn to himself when Cody was born that he’d never be the kind of father who killed his child’s dreams, but this was a dream that needed to die. Lindsey had said it herself, and the words were burned in his brain.

No, honey, I don’t want to marry your dad. He’s a nice man, but no.

Cody closed his eyes, a faint smile lighting his features. Shane knew he thought he’d pulled one over on his dad by taking the dog to bed.

Let him think that. And let him dream about the perfect mother if he wanted. There’d be plenty of time in the future for Cody’s little-boy dreams to die, but tonight, he would fall asleep happy and dream of a real family.

The very thought made Shane’s heart ache with a pain that was so much a part of him he barely noticed it anymore.

Chapter 25

Shane found Lindsey on his porch swing when he stepped outside. She’d set it to swaying with one pointed foot, starting up the faint, familiar creak of metal on metal. Haycat was curled up in her lap, a self-satisfied smile on her pretty kitten face.

“Did you get him all settled in?” she asked.

“Yep.” Shane chuckled. “He thinks he put one over on me, bringing that pup to bed.”

“It was nice of you to get him a dog. He seems so much happier.”

Shane grimaced. “He’s getting too attached to it. Little thing like that, anything could happen.” He nodded at Haycat. “Same with that cat.”

“You can’t live your life worrying about the worst-case scenario.”

“You kidding? That’s my job. A father has to be prepared when things go wrong.” He couldn’t help thinking how empty his bed would feel if anything happened to Haycat. But he’d never felt like he needed a sleeping companion before. “Be smarter if I’d never let him have it,” he grumbled. “Dang dog’s no use to anybody anyway.”

“He is to Cody. He’s teaching him about unconditional love.”

“If it gets stomped by a horse or eaten by a coyote, he’ll learn about unconditional heartbreak.”

“Love’s a good thing, even if you lose it,” she said. “I can’t believe you need someone to tell you that.”

He turned to look at her, a scowl locked and loaded, but it faded when he saw how the light from the window was warming her skin and reflecting off the glossy curtain of her hair. The cat sprawled on its back, all four paws in the air, purring like a four-stroke generator while Lindsey stroked its pink belly. He could have sworn the animal was smiling.

She patted the seat beside her, inviting Shane to sit down, but he turned away, faking interest in the darkening sky. Porch swings might seem rustic and comforting, but the one at Decker Ranch had damn near ruined his life. He and Tara had spent many nights on its slatted seat, struggling to talk until they couldn’t stand it anymore.

That was half the reason he’d gotten her pregnant. The two of them had nothing to say to each other, so they found other things to do and better places to do it.

He’d better find something to talk about now, or the same thing would happen with Lindsey. Already, a part of him was trying to figure out how to get her into the backseat of his truck. It was like a reflex, sparked by the sound of those creaking chains.

“How’s Grace?” he asked.

“She’s okay.” The swing rocked to and fro, the chains groaning. “She’s grieving.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Love leads to loss.”

“And to memories. Good ones. Right now, that’s all she’s got.”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, enjoying the rhythm of the swing. In the dim light, she looked like a countrified angel.

That was an illusion, of course. Shane knew better. What kind of angel would ever think about selling the herd?

“Wild love.” She seemed to be talking to herself, not to him. “That’s how Bud told me he felt about her. When I was a kid, I thought they were like Catherine and Heathcliff, Scarlett and Rhett.”

“Archie and Veronica,” he said. “No, wait. Archie always had Betty in the background, and Bud wasn’t like that. He always said Grace was the only woman for him, forever and always.”

He felt embarrassed by the romantic words even if he was just quoting Bud, but Lindsey shrugged them off with a surprisingly callous gesture. “Sometimes love isn’t what it seems.”

Who was this woman? Sweet one moment, cynical the next—she had his head spinning.

Then again, a woman who felt that way about love probably wouldn’t take advantage of his porch swing reflex.

Careful not to interrupt her rhythm, he eased into the seat beside her on the backswing. She didn’t seem to notice, and he couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed.

Staring off into the darkness, she spoke as if she was in a trance. “He used to tell me about the day they met.”

Her voice was husky with grief, and so soft he could barely hear her. He shifted closer.

“He said he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He never thought she’d notice him, but she went over and held his horse’s halter while he was taking a break.”

Shane had heard the story from Bud a dozen times, but he let Lindsey continue. It seemed like she needed to tell it. Maybe it held some sort of magic for her, like an incantation.

She shifted easily into Bud’s countrified tones.

“‘This little bitty thing,’ he said, ‘holding my big ol’ horse, looking up at me with those purty eyes.’”

She lifted her own “purty eyes” to his and he noticed how much she looked like Grace. No wonder Bud had been smitten. He could see himself reflected in those eyes—himself but with a twist. He looked like a better man, a softer, kinder one.