One Tall, Dusty Cowboy

“How could anything so cold come out of such a beautiful mouth?” he countered. “Especially when I haven’t given you a reason to dislike me.”

She breathed deeply and assured herself that she wasn’t feeling an ounce of attraction for this man. “I’ve not given you any reason to flirt with me either,” she said stiffly.

Instead of making him angry, her response merely made him laugh. Again. And Lilly was shocked at how the low, rich sound sent a shiver of pleasure right through her.

“You’re definitely a saucy little thing.”

And he was just the sort of man that Lilly had taken great pains to avoid these past few years. “I’m not a thing, Mr Calhoun. I’m a woman.”

The corner of his lips curved upward. “Yes, I can see exactly how much of a woman.”

* * *

Men of the West: Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers can ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy …

One Tall,

Dusty Cowboy

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

STELLA BAGWELL has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way. A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns, and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love. The couple has a son, who is a high school math teacher and athletic coach. Stella loves to hear from readers and invites them to contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.

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To my late brother-in-law, Gerald Foster, and the loving memories I will always carry in my heart.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The man standing at the foot of the long staircase was one tall, dusty cowboy and looked entirely out of place standing on the polished wood floor in his boots and spurs and bat-wing chaps. A straw hat was pulled low over his forehead, but the moment he spotted her descending the long steps, he swept it off to reveal thick waves of varying shades of chestnut. Yet it was the speculative gaze on his face that jarred Lilly Lockett the most and prompted her to lift her chin to a challenging tilt.

She halted two steps from where he stood with a gloved hand resting on the polished balustrade. “Are you lost?”

To her dismay, he threw back his head and howled with laughter. “A few folks around here would say I’m lost all the time, Ms...?”

The unsettling glint in his eyes put a prim note to her voice. “Lilly Lockett. And you are?”

Climbing one step closer, he jerked off a scarred leather glove and extended his hand to her. “Rafe Calhoun, at your service, ma’am.”

Lilly wasn’t sure if the blush warming her face was because the man was touching her or because she’d mistaken a member of the Calhoun family for a common ranch hand.

“Hello, Rafe Calhoun. Are you Bart’s son or grandson?”

His outlandish grin was bracketed by a pair of incredible dimples, but they only made up a small part of this man’s striking looks. His skin was tanned to a deep nut-brown, making a pair of gray eyes stand out beneath hooded brows. Chiseled cheekbones angled downward to a proud, hawkish nose and lean cheeks, while a hank of rusty-brown hair flopped onto a high forehead. She’d heard through the rumor mill that one of the Calhoun boys was a player with the ladies and from the looks of this one she’d pretty much bet him to be the culprit.

“Bart is my grandfather.” His gaze slipped from her face to her bare ring finger then farther downward over her navy blue scrubs. “Are you here to treat him?”

Determined not to allow this rakish cowboy to rattle her senses for one moment longer, she pulled her hand from his and stiffened her already straight spine. “I’m Mr. Calhoun’s—Bart’s physical therapist. I’ll be working with him the next few weeks.”

If possible, the grin on Rafe Calhoun’s face grew even deeper. “Well, now, that’s the best news I’ve heard in days.”

Her back teeth clamped together. “Really? The fact that your grandfather has had a stroke and needs physical therapy is good news to you?”

“Aw, now, Lilly,” he began in a slow, flirtatious drawl. “That wasn’t even close to what I meant.”

Not about to give this man an opportunity to work his charms on her, she said, “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Calhoun. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to be at the hospital in forty-five minutes.”

He stroked a thoughtful finger along his jaw. “It only takes thirty minutes to get to town from here. Surely you can give me five of those extra ones.”

“What makes you think you deserve five minutes of my time?”

The question appeared to take him aback and while he was searching for words, she stepped around him and started across a wide corridor that would eventually lead her to a side exit of the huge ranch house. Rafe Calhoun’s jingle-bell spurs rang out as he hurried after her.

“Now wait a minute, Lilly. You’re not being very friendly. You don’t want to give me a bad first impression, do you?”

Pausing, she turned to find him standing directly behind her and so close that she could smell the dust and sweat on his clothes, see the gray horse hair and streaks of dirt clinging to his white shirt. Now that the grin had been wiped from his face, she was able to observe his lips in their natural state. They were thin and hard with a tiny white scar adorning the top corner. Apparently, at one time, something or someone had busted his mouth.

The man probably liked fighting as much as he liked kissing, she couldn’t help thinking.

“I’m not interested in giving you any sort of impression. I’m not making visits to the Silver Horn ranch for your amusement, Mr. Calhoun. I’m here to treat your grandfather. Now goodbye!”

“How could anything so cold come out of such a beautiful mouth?” he countered. “Especially when I haven’t given you a reason to dislike me.”

She breathed deeply and assured herself that she wasn’t feeling an ounce of attraction for this man. She was simply fascinated by his rough, tough appearance and the easy way all those pretty words rolled from his tongue.

“I’ve not given you any reason to flirt with me, either,” she said stiffly.

Instead of making him angry, her response merely made him laugh. Again. And Lilly was shocked at how the low, rich sound sent a shiver of pleasure right through her.

“You’re definitely a saucy little thing.”

And he was just the sort of man that Lilly had taken great pains to avoid these past few years. “I’m not a thing, Mr. Calhoun. I’m a woman.”

The corner of his lips, the one with the fetching little scar, curved upward. “Yes, I can see exactly how much of a woman.”

Incensed, she said, “If that’s the case, then go find the nearest mirror and tell the guy looking back at you that he’s not quite the Romeo he thinks he is.”

With that she didn’t wait around for his response. Instead, she walked quickly away from him until she was completely outside of the house. Fifteen minutes later, she’d driven halfway to Carson City and by then she realized her fingers were aching from the choke hold she had on the steering wheel.

What was she doing? Why had she let a playboy’s silly flirtation get her riled? At twenty-eight years of age and working most of her adult life as a nurse, she’d dealt with all types of men. And she understood that the majority of them had one thing on their minds. It was obvious that Rafe Calhoun was no different.

Shoving a hand through her shoulder-length blond hair, she kept her eyes on the highway while she fought to push the man’s image from her mind. She hoped to heaven she wouldn’t run into him again, but she seriously doubted she could be that lucky. She’d only started Bart Calhoun’s therapy three days ago and the task of rehabilitating the use of his leg and arm was going to be long and arduous. And given Rafe Calhoun’s persistence, she had the sinking feeling he would make it a point to bump into her whenever she was at the ranch.

You can’t be worrying about that, Lilly. Men like him are everywhere. And for the past seven years you’ve managed very well to stay out of their reach. You can stay out of Rafe’s path, too.

But that was going to be easier said than done, she thought, as she pulled into a parking space set aside for hospital personnel. Men like Rafe weren’t exactly everywhere. There had been something about him that had struck a nerve and made her so totally aware of the long months she’d gone without so much as having a man hold her hand. And that sad fact was hardly something she wanted to dwell on.

“Good morning, Lilly. How did it go with Mr. Calhoun this morning?”

As Lilly passed the nurses’ station, she glanced over to see Jolene, a young brunette nurse that worked the morning shift in the E.R.

“He’s trying his best.”

“Well, I’d sure like a job inside that fancy mansion, but I wouldn’t want to deal with Mr. Calhoun. I’ve heard stories about his last visit here at the hospital. He had most of the nurses in tears or wanting to kill him.” Gesturing over her shoulder in the direction of the snack room, she said, “I saved you a couple of pieces of pizza for lunch. It’s in the fridge if you want it.”

“Thanks, Jolene. Maybe later. Right now I’m running short on time.”

Thanks to one sexy cowboy with a glib tongue. She wondered what Jolene or any of the other nurses could tell her about Rafe Calhoun. Probably the same thing that was said about the elder Calhoun, she thought; he left women in tears or wanting to kill him.

* * *

Back on the Silver Horn, Rafe stepped into his father’s office and walked straight to the coffeepot.

“What’s up? I thought branding was going on today?” Orin asked.

Rafe glanced over at the big man sitting behind a wide mahogany desk. In his early sixties, Orin Calhoun was still as strong and vital as he’d been twenty years ago. The only difference now was that his hair was more gray than dark and age lines creased the corners of his eyes and mouth. Orin had raised five strapping sons and along the way lost the only woman he’d ever loved. Rafe seriously doubted he could ever be as great a man as his father, so most of the time he didn’t try.

“Branding is going on,” Rafe answered. “I burnt the hell out of my finger and had to come get another pair of gloves.”

Orin frowned. “We keep stacks of gloves in every barn.”

“Well, I had to put some ointment on my finger and I wanted my own gloves. Come to think of it, I should’ve let that pretty little nurse of Gramps’s treat me. Bet she would’ve known exactly what to do to take out the sting.”

As Rafe sipped the black coffee, he watched his father let out a weary sigh. It was no secret that Orin didn’t like Rafe’s philandering ways. He’d often hounded Rafe to either settle down with a woman or, at the very least, quit chasing them like a bull in a spring pasture full of heifers. But Rafe was thirty years old and though he was open to advice, he lived life his own way and at his own pace.

“Son, I hope I don’t have to tell you to behave like a gentleman around Ms. Lockett. She’s a specialist in therapy, but also works in the E.R. at Tahoe General. She’s only taken this job as a favor to Chet Anderson, the director of nursing there, who also happens to be a friend of mine. And it would be damned hard to replace her,” he added with a pointed glance at Rafe.

Walking over to the wide window overlooking the ranch yard, Rafe gazed over the rim of his coffee cup at the busy comings and goings of the hired hands. Except for a two-year stint in college, he’d spent his entire life on this Nevada ranch. Five years ago, his grandfather, Bart, had appointed him the position of ranch foreman and during those five years Rafe wasn’t sure if Bart had cursed or blessed him. Overseeing twenty-five men, thousands of head of cattle and several sections of rugged ranch land had never been a simple task. In the very beginning Rafe had stumbled more than once, and there had been times he’d even doubted his ability to handle a job that normally would go to a much older, more experienced man. But he’d been determined to prove his worth and now being the foreman of the Silver Horn was a job he lived, slept and breathed.

“What’s the matter with you, Dad?”

Orin let out another sigh and the sound irked Rafe no end. He loved and respected his father greatly, but it annoyed the hell out of Rafe to have the other man treat him as though he were still a bumbling teenager.

“All right, son. Just so you understand how important she is right now. She could be the difference in your grandfather getting strong enough to walk again.”

Rafe turned away from the window. “You make it sound like she’s a miracle worker.”

“From what Chet told me, she has worked miracles with a few hopeless cases. That’s why he recommended her for Dad’s therapy. I just hope she can endure his bullheadedness.”

From his brief exchange with the blonde beauty, he certainly didn’t think she’d have any trouble holding her own with Bart. She was the first woman in a long time that had rejected his advances, and she’d hardly been uncertain about it.

Go find the nearest mirror and tell the guy looking back at you that he’s not quite the Romeo he thinks he is.

Lilly Lockett’s parting remark still had enough power to sting him. But on the other hand, he admired her spunk. And Rafe always did like a challenge.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I don’t think Lilly is the sort of woman who runs from anything. She’ll handle Gramps.” And me, he thought wryly.

“I’m glad you think so. Now tell me about the branding. Did the men find more stray calves to add to the spring tally?”

“Fifty-two additional head. They were over on the Antelope Range, on the flats near the river. All of them were packing good weight.”

“That’s a nice find. Have you tagged or branded them yet?”

“No, sir. I plan to start on them before the end of the week. We’ll do the bunch over on the Salt Cedar trail first.” Rafe quickly drained the last of his coffee then put the cup down on the coffee table. “I’d better get back out to the branding fire. I’ll see you at supper.”

As he started out of the office, his father called out, “Rafe? Did you come all the way upstairs just for a cup of coffee?”

Damn! Meeting Lilly Lockett on the staircase must have distracted him more than he thought. “Oh, yeah. I wanted to talk to you about those horses Finn has been lobbying for. Is he going to get them or not? The hands are hurting for more mounts. Three are sidelined with bone chips and two more are being treated for colic and one with a shoulder injury.”

“Have you talked to Finn about this?”

Frustrated, Rafe slapped his gloves against the palm of his hand. “Hell, yes. He says he’ll come up with more. But damn it, Dad, he’s so caught up with the foaling mares he forgets that there’s cattle to be taken care of around here. It’s already the first week of May. We can’t do the rest of spring roundup without horses.”

“Have you talked with your brother today?”

“I went by the foaling barn but he wasn’t there. I tried his cell phone but he didn’t answer.”

“He’s probably over at the J Bar S. He promised Sassy he’d help her with one of their horses. I don’t know exactly what it was about but you know how Finn feels about his sister. He’s not about to disappoint her.”

A little more than a year ago, it was revealed that Orin had sired a daughter during a brief, illicit affair. Not only had it shocked Orin, who’d been unaware of the child, it had stunned Rafe and his four brothers to learn they had a half-sister. But learning their father had been unfaithful to their mother had only been a part of the revelation. The whole secret of the woman’s pregnancy had been kept for twenty-four years with hush money doled out by Bart.

No doubt the story had been told and retold from one end of Carson City to the other.

“I love Sassy, too,” Rafe said. “But Finn needs to get his priorities straight! If he doesn’t have time to take care of the working remuda, then maybe you ought to find someone who can!”

Rising to his feet, Orin leveled a look of warning at him. “Rafe! You’re stepping out of line.”

Rafe stood his ground. “Sorry, Dad, but I’m stepping exactly where I should be stepping. This whole matter reflects on my job and I’m not going to let anyone make me look like a slacker!”

With a weary shake of his head, Orin asked quietly, “Does this always have to come down to you, Rafe?”

“I’m thinking about this ranch. Not myself. Maybe someday you and everybody else around here will understand that.”

He left the office before his father could say more and once outside, his long stride carried him toward a group of wooden corrals, where he’d left his horse tethered to a hitching rail. As he mounted the blue roan and kicked the gelding into a lope, he realized it was a waste of time to try to argue his case with his father. Neither Orin nor his brothers really understood what drove or pushed him. They all believed he was self-seeking. They had no clue that every cell of his heart had long ago been poured into this land and the animals that roamed it.

* * *

The next morning, Lilly was relieved when she entered the Silver Horn ranch house and made it up to Bart’s room without running into Rafe. Not that she’d been expecting him to be lurking around, just waiting to see her again. But even the thought of a chance meeting with the man ruffled her nerves. Especially after the fourteen-hour shift she’d put in yesterday. One traumatic injury after another had come through the E.R. doors over the course of the night, and she’d finally crawled into bed just before daylight, mentally drained and physically exhausted.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Bart,” she said a few minutes later as she urged the man to make another repetitive move with his arm. “Use all your strength. Keep your hand against mine and try to shove me backwards.”

The white-haired man chuckled. “I’d never shove a lovely lady like you, Lilly.”

Lilly couldn’t help but smile. Everyone had warned her that Bart Calhoun was a hateful, crotchety bastard of a man, but from the moment she’d met him, he’d been a perfect gentleman. She only hoped his manners didn’t change before his therapy was finished.

“Well, just pretend that I’m someone you don’t like,” she told him. “And don’t worry, I’m strong. So put some power in that arm.”

He did as she asked and this time she could feel a bit more resistance as he strained to do the exercise.

“I’ve never been helpless in my life, Lilly. And I don’t like it. Up until I had the stroke, I still had enough punch to knock a man flat on his back. But now...” He trailed off with a wistful sigh. “Things change when a man gets older.”

Moving to his left foot, she motioned for him to push against her cupped hands. “You can’t blame your condition on your age, Bart. From what your family tells me, you like Kentucky bourbon and arguing. That’s not a good combination for a man with high blood pressure.”

“Well, I do have my faults,” he sheepishly admitted. “All of us men do, you know. I’m just thankful to God that my speech wasn’t affected. It would be hell if I couldn’t communicate.”

Lilly figured this man didn’t necessarily need words to communicate. He was very much like his grandson, who expressed most of his thoughts through his eyes.

“Or heck if you couldn’t argue,” she teased as she continued to put his leg through a series of motions. “I hope your speech wasn’t spared for that reason.”

He didn’t say anything and after a few moments she glanced up to see he was studying her with a thoughtful eye. “Are you married, Lilly?”

She cast him a coy glance. “No. Why? Do you have matrimony on your mind?”

He chuckled. “Well, you’d certainly tempt a man to stand in front of the preacher. But no. I’ve only loved one woman in my life and she died twenty years ago. I can’t imagine myself with another wife.”

His sentiment touched her more than he could ever know. Her parents had been married for nearly thirty years, yet she’d never seen much affection expressed between them. Certainly not the kind of love or devotion that Bart felt for his late wife. After all these years, Lilly wasn’t sure what had kept her parents together. Her father, Ron Lockett, had always been a quiet, hardworking man who was content to live modestly. On the other hand, her mother, Faye, was never content and was always demanding her husband to change and follow her wants and wishes, which caused a constant clash of differences between the two.

As a child, her parents’ dysfunctional marriage had affected Lilly deeply. By the time she’d entered her teen years, she’d sworn that her life was going to be different. She would love the man she married and he would love her equally. There wouldn’t be arguing, threats or tears. But now, years later, she’d learned that love wasn’t that easy to find and life had a way of producing tears.

“I’ve never been married,” she told Bart.

“How come? You don’t like men?”

She let out a silent sigh. “I like them. I just haven’t found one I like enough to share the rest of my life with. I’m particular, I suppose.”

“Particular is good. That means you’re smart.”

Smart? In many ways Lilly supposed she was smart. She had a good education and she’d been told by many of her peers that she was an excellent and intelligent nurse. But in her personal life, she’d made mistakes she was still trying to forget.

She glanced over at the large window and a view of the distant desert hills. The Silver Horn was known far and wide for its wealth, horses and cowboys. And though she wasn’t familiar with ranch life, she had to admit this place, and the family who ran it, intrigued her.

“Did you live on this ranch when you got married?” she asked Bart.

“Yes. But it wasn’t the place it is now. My father started the Horn back in 1909 from just a bare spot—where the barns are now. Over time as his herd multiplied, he bought more land. Eventually, his profit grew and he sank part of it in lucrative investments. That’s how it all got started. By the time he died in 1960 I was in my thirties, so I took over and tried to follow in his footsteps.”