Always a Cowboy Page 10

  “Okay,” he said tentatively, waiting for her to explain.

  “It isn’t okay at all! I mean missing. I was there all afternoon. He’s gone.”

  There could be any number of explanations. Horses got sick, just like any other creature. The foal could have wandered off and gotten lost. Mares were vigilant, but mistakes did happen in the natural order of things. Or there could be a predator stalking the horses, like the one taking his calves now and then. He said in what he thought was a patient tone, “I get it, Luce, but you can’t expect me to ride herd—so to speak—on a bunch of wild horses. I’ve lost calves, too.”

  He and Slater exchanged a glance. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Sure am.” This wasn’t news, more like an unwelcome update. “It’s a big cat.” Drake threw it out there as he grew more certain. “I thought it was wolves, but no, a mountain lion’s staked out territory around here. He’s got to be big, too. Remember that mauled deer I found last year?”

  His brother nodded. “Could be a she. And if she’s got little ones, she’d be more dangerous than a male.”

  That was a valid point. He turned toward Luce. “You’re not going up there alone, not anymore.”

  She obviously resented his authoritative tone. Leaning against the porch railing, she snapped, “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

  Perhaps he should’ve put it differently, but he stuck to his guns. “How much clearer do I need to be?”

  “There’s this part where you get yourself declared my legal guardian. Otherwise, you don’t have jurisdiction over what I do and don’t do. I believe you mentioned earlier today that you can’t stop me.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. Carson ranch, Carson rules.”

  “How am I supposed to study the horses, then?”

  “Figure it out, but you aren’t going up there alone.”

  She pulled the high card, taunting him. “I bet Harry would back me up. I know your mother and my mother would.”

  “Maybe.” But in this case, maybe not. Harry was no stranger to how things operated in these parts, and if there was danger, he didn’t think either of their mothers would be on board. “I doubt it, though. You aren’t a regular part of a mountain lion’s diet, but on the other hand, they aren’t picky. They’ve attacked people before. You don’t weigh more than the last calf I lost.”

  “Oh, that’s comforting. Are you comparing me to a cow?”

  Drake groaned. He’d stepped into that one. He’d said calf, but maybe he should just abandon this particular tack. Instead, he turned to his brother. “What do you think?” he asked. “She shouldn’t go up there on her own, right?”

  “If I want to be part of an argument, I’ll hang out with my very pregnant wife. I’d advise you to take Grace with you, Luce, but I doubt she’s up for the long walk—and she insists on working until the day she goes into labor. However, I maintain that at this time she could kill a mountain lion with her bare hands.” Slater rose, saying over his shoulder, “See you two at dinner. Have fun resolving this.”

  He beat it, and Drake envied him that option. He sighed. “Luce, I worried about you all afternoon.”

  Finally, he’d apparently said the right thing. She leaned back against the railing, arms tightly crossed. But she softened. “Oh,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “I had work to finish, but I was too distracted because I was anxious about you.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  Probably the last thing he’d ever wanted to be called was sweet. It was better than her being mad at him, but sweet? “I don’t want you eaten by a rogue cougar. I hardly think that qualifies as sweet. Don’t feel special, okay? I don’t want anyone eaten by a big cat.”

  “I was referring to how you worried about me all day.”

  “Afternoon,” he corrected.

  She waved a hand loftily. “I’m going with all day.”

  The breeze stirred her ponytail; he wished he hadn’t noticed that.

  And the flirtatious smile she gave him did something interesting to his composure. He made an effort to lean casually against the railing, too. “Look, Luce, Slater can put up remote cameras near the ridge. Then you can skip going off by yourself and still watch the horses.”

  “That’s like sitting on the couch watching television! No, thanks. I came all the way here for the full experience.”

  And his mother referred to him as stubborn? “You can’t stay up there by yourself for weeks. Are we really going to continue this conversation?”

  “Nope. I’m off to have a shower before dinner. Harry told me she’s making French chicken. Not sure what that means, but I trust it’ll be fantastic.”

  It was, and he trusted that this discussion wasn’t over.

  * * *

  DINNER WAS DIVINE.

  The chicken, simmered in white wine with garlic and then served with crispy potatoes, and a salad tossed with homemade green goddess dressing would have shamed the most elite foodie place in California.

  “So, Moonshine, how’s the still coming along?” Drake asked between helpings. Luce was fairly sure he was going for his third.

  Mace responded, “It’s not a still. I’m trying out what I think will be a better fermentation process for a small line of liquors.”

  Drake looked at Luce and said in a loud whisper, “It’s a still. No wonder he wanted me to buy the stuff for it, so I’ll look like the guilty party if he gets caught making his illicit potions.”

  “What you know about making wine—or any kind of potable—could fit in the stomach of a tree frog.” Mace plucked a roll from the basket on the table. That quaint expression had Red written all over it. She choked, laughing, on a sip of wine.

  “How big is the frog?” Slater asked helpfully with a grin.

  Mace grinned, too. “Real small. One of those little green ones about the size of your fingertip.”

  “It isn’t useful knowledge in my chosen profession.” Drake said it in a superior tone. “By the way, that last lemon bar has my name on it.”

  “Like hell it does,” Grace piped up. “You all sit there swilling your wine and I can’t have any, so that last lemon bar is for me and Junior.”

  “I’d listen to her, guys. She’s in as good a mood as a rattlesnake branded with a red-hot poker.” That was Ryder, Grace’s teenage stepson, and his grin echoed Slater’s. He was fifteen, Blythe had confided. His father was in the military, and even though he and Grace were divorced, she’d taken on her ex-husband’s child, because his birth mother had no interest due to a second marriage and other children. Luce was under the impression that his father was gone most of the time, so when Slater and Grace got married, Ryder had been part of the deal.

  The Carsons were an interesting family, to say the least.

  Drake immediately passed the plate to his sister-in-law. “You win hands-down, Grace.”

  “You’ve always been my favorite. Thank you.” She grabbed the last cookie.

  “Hey!” Both Mace and Slater said it.

  After dinner, the ritual seemed to be that the men cleared the table while the women, including Harry, sat and had a cup of tea or decaf coffee. The dining room suited the overall grand style of the house, and the table was obviously an heirloom that could comfortably seat the whole crowd. There was a stunning quilt hanging above an old sideboard, and Luce couldn’t help commenting on it. “I love that as a wall decoration.”

  “It’s by Hadleigh Galloway,” Blythe told her. “She owns the quilt shop in town. She does beautiful work. You can commission one if she doesn’t have what you want. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  The image of wild horses immediately danced through her head. “Really? I might stop by there.”

  “She’s super nice, too.” Grace yawned. “Is it too early for
bed? Maybe I ate too much.”

  “Or maybe there isn’t a lot of room in there for food. He’s growing like a weed,” Harry suggested with a kindly twinkle in her eye, although her expression was stern. “I just ordered a book online about making homemade baby food. No jarred stuff for the new addition.”

  They’d learned that it was a boy, but Grace and Slater had refused to reveal the name they’d chosen, to the amusement of the whole family, Luce gathered.

  Grace certainly didn’t argue. “If you make it, I bet he’ll eat it when the time comes for solid food. Anyway, I’m off to bed. I have a romance novel waiting for me and hopefully about ten hours of sleep.”

  Blythe was laughing as her daughter-in-law departed. “I enjoy this experience a lot more when someone else is going through it. But I can’t wait to hold this one in my arms, even though the last thing we need around here is another male.”

  Harry got up, too. “Ain’t that the truth. I have to go to the kitchen to see what’s happening. Those boys could be doing anything. I hear a lot of banging of dishes and pans.”

  “Who knows?” Blythe shrugged, still smiling. “They need to be managed. I’ll go with you.”

  That left Luce to wander out onto the veranda by herself, tea in hand, until Drake suddenly joined her. “I was banished,” he informed her. “I wash, they’re supposed to dry and put away. But Harry took over my job, probably because of you. My mother not so subtly suggested we go for an evening stroll. That’s how she put it—stroll.”

  He sounded disgruntled enough that Luce sent him a mischievous smile. “I take it there’s a country song out there called ‘Real Cowboys Don’t Stroll’?”

  “I couldn’t tell you. Now, I’m going to stroll to the stables to check on the horses like I do every night, so if you’d care to join me, feel free. It’s another pretty night, but Red says tomorrow’s going to be as blustery as an old hag on a rant.”

  “Oh, come on, he didn’t say that. You’re making it up. I think you’re all teasing me by inventing Red-speak.”

  Drake looked boyishly unrepentant. “Okay, yeah, I did make that up. But doesn’t it sound like something he’d say? What he did say is that the weather’s going to turn. That man should’ve been a meteorologist. He’s right. You can count on it.” He gestured toward the porch steps. “I know you’ve walked your share today, but shall we?”

  It really was another lovely evening, and for once the incessant wind wasn’t blowing. Maybe it was the calm before the storm. “Thank you. I need to walk off dinner, anyway. If you think Red should’ve been a meteorologist, I think Harry should be a chef somewhere in Paris, basking in her four-star rating. The chicken was superb.”

  “Not gonna argue with that one.” He followed her down the steps and walked beside her, slowing his pace to match hers. “How’s the research paper coming?”

  Nice of him to ask, especially since he hadn’t wanted anything to do with it in the first place. “I’m still making notes,” she told him. “I have pictures and videos of the horses, and I know this is a sore subject, but thanks to your descriptions, I’ve identified the mares that were yours and belong to the herd now. So to sum up, it’s coming along nicely.”

  “Glad to be of help,” he said sarcastically.

  “I’m not trying to rub salt in a wound, I swear it.”

  “I believe you.” He had his hands in his pockets and his expression was reflective. “I also believe that life involves weighing decisions, and figuring out if they’re good or bad. I realize some people don’t bother with that—they see only one approach, which is usually whatever they’ve already decided. I have to consider every situation from as many angles as possible.” He shrugged. “All I can do is my best. The reality is that these wild horses are a problem for someone in my position.”

  “I know. I owe you an apology, or perhaps a couple of them. I’m too focused at times. I admit that.”

  “Darlin’, if you think I haven’t noticed that you’re too focused at all times, you’re mistaken. In my defense, this is my life and this is who I am. I can’t change that.”

  Truer words were never spoken. He was him. Drake Carson.

  “Why would you want to?” She meant it. “We don’t understand each other all that well, but I wouldn’t want you to change. And I wouldn’t try to change you.”

  His response was unexpected—a low groan. “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what? Give you a compliment?”

  “No. But my mother always told me never to get involved with a woman who wanted to change me. It’s a life lecture she gives all her sons. She likes you already, so I’ll keep that information to myself.”

  She liked Blythe, as well. “Are we involved?”

  Maybe she’d just said the wrong thing.

  “You tell me.”

  She winged it. “Yeah, it might be leaning that way. Like a knotty pine on a windy slope.”

  “Not bad, but my try at Red-speak was better.”

  This time she really did give him a playful punch in the gut. It was flat and well muscled, which didn’t surprise her because she’d seen him stripped to the waist. “Quit that, or I’ll beat you up,” she said.

  “Think you can take me?”

  Maybe she was falling in love with him because of his smile. He didn’t show it often, but when he did, it was memorable.

  “Oh, come on. My saying was a good effort, right?”

  “It was too poetic. It should be more like ‘Does manure fall in a horse stall?’”

  “Well, I’ll take that advice.”

  Then he kissed her for the third time. Best one yet. They were in each other’s arms, and Luce knew this was exactly what Blythe had intended, and yet it was hard to resent when it turned out so well. There was a lowering dusk and privacy, and Drake’s body against hers...

  He lifted his head. “I forgot to check.”

  Luce had to admit she was dazed from that kiss. “Check?”

  “For cameras.” He scouted theatrically around. “I don’t see any, but that means nothing. I’m not Showbiz with his diabolical staff, planting surveillance equipment everywhere, so I don’t get how they think. Who knows where they might’ve put one? Under a bale of hay? Strapped to the belly of a horse? It’s possible.”

  One of the things she liked most about him—aside from that smile—was that he had a dry sense of humor. Grace had told her he was one of the funniest people she’d ever met, and Luce could see why. “You’re being paranoid,” she told him, hiding her own smile.

  “Damn straight I am. After what happened last time, shouldn’t I be?”

  “No one will know who we are.”

  “Really? Is that why everyone around here is calling me Romeo? But that’s not even my point. It was supposed to be just you and me. First kiss. Alone.”

  He certainly didn’t have to take Romance 101. He got an A—due to his natural talent, she supposed. “A kiss is more than just a kiss?”

  “Wasn’t it? To you?”

  “It was.” Luce took a breath. “Do you even have to ask me that?”

  “No.” He let her go and walked about five feet away. “I didn’t see this particular storm on the horizon, that’s all.”

  “I’m a storm? Isn’t that too poetic?”

  “Kind of.” He swung around. “I’m afraid if I kiss you again, we’re going to end up on some horizontal surface, comfortable or not.”

  “And since neither of us do casual—”

  “And you live in California,” he interrupted, but he reached for her again and pulled her against him, their mouths no more than an inch apart.

  Who knew what might have happened next if Ryder hadn’t come down the path to the stables just then, carrying a small sack of apples. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them in an em
brace. “Oh, uh, s-sorry,” he stammered, looking embarrassed. “I was going to give these to the horses...”

  Drake didn’t miss a beat. As he released her, he said in an easy tone, “I was about to check on them, so that works. Let’s go do it. Luce?”

  “I’ll wait here and admire the view.” Luce chose to not join them, but she stood on the path, gazing up at the starlit sky.

  “Sure. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  After they’d walked away, she whispered out loud, “Well, now what do I do?”

  The stars didn’t answer but twinkled cheerfully back. Even Venus, hanging low on the horizon, just smiled serenely.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE STARS WERE not on his side.

  Not that he was a big believer in the zodiac or in horoscopes, but he could tell he wasn’t going to win anytime soon. Unless you counted one very intent graduate student and a slew of horses he’d never wanted in the first place, he was on his own. So Drake was resigned to navigating this love business without any other guidance.

  Oh, his mother and Harry would be glad to chime in, but he had a feeling he knew what their advice would be.

  Get together with the pretty girl and settle down. Have babies.

  Ryder wasn’t helpful. “She’s really cool.”

  “Luce?” He fed Trader—an aging gray gelding who was extremely picky about letting anyone come close to him—an apple. “I think so,” he said slowly.

  “Kinda noticed that.” The kid was too grown-up for his age, but at the same time, refreshingly honest. His expression was sheepish. “Sorry I showed up right then.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” That had probably been for the best, anyway. Although privacy seemed to be in short supply these days... Still, despite that, he wouldn’t have traded where he lived for anywhere else in the world.

  “What she’s doing is pretty interesting.” Ryder handed an apple to one of the mares. He was a natural with the horses, which had surprised everyone, since he was a city kid who’d been transplanted from Seattle to Mustang Creek.

  “She’s interesting, for sure.”