Cowgirl, Say Yes

CHAPTER TWO

TESS SHUT the refrigerator door a little too hard, and the magnetic calendar that didn’t seem to stick right anymore slid off and plopped on the floor. She picked it up and noticed her upcoming birthday marked with pink Hi-Liter—Macy’s doing. Six more days and she’d turn twenty-seven. Twenty-seven and still married to her job.

She shrugged off the thought. Only her run-in with Wade was making her think that way. Any other time, she knew she was better off sharing her home with no one but her animals. Heck, she had all the kids she needed in her 4-H group. And Lord knows she’d had enough of being a family caregiver to last a lifetime. Not that she would ever begrudge the time she’d devoted to her mother. Instead, she treasured it.

Raelene Vega had developed familial Alzheimer’s disease—FAD, a rare form of Alzheimer’s—at the age of forty-one. As the years passed, she’d required Tess’s ever-increasing care. It wasn’t her fault, no more than Tess’s dad and two older brothers were to blame for being men—which translated to helpless half the time.

Tess had been the primary caregiver, maker of meals and soother of colds, flu and broken hearts since the age of sixteen. Her father had insisted that Raelene, the woman he’d thought would be his life’s partner, stay at home for as long as possible. With the progress of time came progress of the disease. Tess had quickly grown to hate FAD. Not for what it put her through, but for what her mother suffered.

Once a vibrant, intelligent woman who took pride in the three kids she’d chosen to adopt, she’d taught them how to ride a horse, how to build a barn and what to do when a member of the opposite sex called for the first time on the phone. But in the grip of Alzheimer’s, Rae’s mind had quickly deteriorated. Her condition had worsened to the point that although Lloyd Vega and all three of his children visited Rae regularly at the County Care Facility, she rarely knew who they were anymore.

Tess tried not to think about that part.

And she tried not to be selfish and thank God that, even though she felt like Rae’s flesh and blood, she wasn’t. Tess’s birth mother had abandoned her and her brothers when they were small, fading from their lives without so much as a second thought. Raelene had married Lloyd a short time later, and adopted Tess and the boys. FAD ran in generations, and if Tess, Zach and Seth had been Rae’s biological children, they would have had a fifty-fifty chance of inheriting the disease.

Angry at herself not for the first time for letting such a thought come to mind, Tess slapped the calendar back up on the fridge, opened the door and peered inside. An assortment of fresh vegetables and cheese greeted her, and her stomach growled. She’d given up meat ten years ago, when her love for animals dictated she do the right thing. Reaching into the fridge, she chose a cluster of fresh broccoli and a chunk of Monterey Jack, both of which would go nicely with the ziti she’d purchased yesterday. She’d also treat herself to a good, ice-cold beer. Tess rarely drank the stuff, but the day she’d had today warranted one.

First there’d been the call she’d gotten at work…a summons to a boarding stable located ten miles from town. The caller had been a concerned neighbor, and the tale she’d told had been familiar. One that never failed to twist Tess’s stomach into a knot. An abandoned horse, neglected because the owner no longer cared and had found better things to spend money on.

Tess had driven out immediately, to find a bone-thin gray mare standing in a stall full of manure. Mane and tail matted, hooves curled like elf shoes, she had a dull expression in her eyes that said she’d given up hope. Crud caked her once-pretty dappled coat, and flies buzzed around the stall in excess. The entire barnyard looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in a millenium.

Furious beyond words, Tess had offered the idiot stable owner, who now “took care” of the abandoned mare, fifty dollars for the animal, knowing he’d ask for more. He hadn’t disappointed her. Two hundred dollars later, she’d left with the gray safely stowed in the two-horse trailer behind her Dodge Ram. The poor creature had loaded without much fuss, especially once she laid eyes on the flake of grass hay waiting for her in the trailer’s manger.

Back home, Tess had promptly called Doc Baker, who came out as soon as he could and examined the mare. He proclaimed her salvageable, gave her wormer medication and a vaccine to guard against tetanus, influenza and sleeping sickness, and recommended a top-notch farrier to trim her grossly overgrown hooves. Tess’s own farrier, married to Macy’s former 4-H leader, had moved away last week.

With the mare under Doc’s watchful eye, Tess left the barn long enough to call the number on the business card he’d given her. To her delight, the “Johnnie” Blake who answered the phone turned out to be a woman. She promised to drive out the next day and take care of the mare. Tess applauded the fact that her new farrier was female, especially since the gray would require some extra-special attention and Tess stubbornly refused to believe that any man could have as big a heart as a woman when it came to needy animals.

Back in the barn, she found the old mare down. Heart in her throat, she watched Doc Baker tend to her with gentle hands and a soft voice. He’d quickly reassured Tess that the horse was fine. She simply suffered from exhaustion and had spent the reserve of her energy for the day. Still, he stayed with the animal for the better part of an hour to be certain she was indeed okay. Before he left, he told Tess not to hesitate to call him in the middle of the night if necessary, blowing her theory of insensitive men all to hell.

Then Macy had ridden over, begging her to give Amber a home. Next had come her argument with Wade Darland.

Twisting the cap off a longneck bottle of Coors Light, Tess leaned back in a kitchen chair, propping her booted feet on its neighbor.

Now, there was a man who was enough to drive any woman to drink. Good-looking as all get out, he nevertheless irritated her beyond words with his attitude. Lord, what was wrong with him? Upsetting poor Macy that way. What did he plan to do? Ship her horse off to the killer? That was likely the only buyer he’d get for a mare in her twenties. The horse was still ridable, but not so fit for speed events anymore. Macy thought Amber was about twenty-three, but she wasn’t sure because the mare wasn’t registered.

Tess took a swig from the longneck, then rose to check on her boiling pasta, sidestepping one of her cats as he laced himself between her ankles with a plaintive meow, begging. “You won’t eat pasta, Champ, and you know it.”

The sound of a truck in her driveway sent her to look through the screen door. Her heart did a dive. Wade Darland climbed from behind the wheel of a battered Ford pickup, his gray hat dusty, his boots scuffed. What did he want now?

The last of the sun’s rays made a backdrop against his shoulders as he headed up the sidewalk. Duke lunged at him, taking a snap at his heels, and Wade shouted. Tess opened the screen and gave a sharp whistle that had all three dogs retreating to the porch. Wade hesitated halfway up the walk, eyeing Duke. At a hundred and five pounds, the shepherd looked like a canine version of Arnold “I’ll be back” Schwarzenegger. Or maybe more of a “make my day” kind of dog, as he showed Wade his teeth and the length of hair rising on the back of his neck.

“You’re okay,” Tess called out. “He won’t bite now.”

Wade appeared skeptical but strode up the walk anyway, then waited while Tess took hold of Duke’s collar before coming all the way up the steps. “Be nice, Duke,” she said.

“Duke?” Wade raised one eyebrow. “You’ve been watching too many John Wayne movies, Tess.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “All right. Maybe I deserved that one.” She nodded toward the screen door. “Go on in.” Only after he was safely inside did she let loose of Duke’s collar. “So what’s up?” she asked, closing the screen behind her. “Did you come here to lecture me on the evils of horse rescue, or were you planning to drive splinters under my nails until I agreed to give up my quest?”

He glared at her. “That’s a fine way to treat a neighbor, Tess.” He nodded at the beer. “Got another one of those?”

She huffed out a noise that let him know she found his manners sorely lacking, then opened the fridge and extracted a longneck. On the stove, the pasta boiled wildly. She checked it and found it almost ready.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah. I feed my kids every Wednesday, whether they need it or not.”

Tess turned and shot him a glare, only to find him grinning at her behind her back. The tension in her neck eased, and she allowed herself to return his smile, but only briefly. She couldn’t let his looks disarm her.

“So, why did you come out here?” she asked, pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“I wanted to clear up a couple of things,” he said, taking a pull from the beer bottle. Tess watched his long, strong fingers curl around it, noticed the way his lips covered the brown glass as though he were about to kiss it…and licked her own. He was enough for her to indulge in a fantasy. Enough to make her stupid.

Again, she dragged her thoughts from that direction. Who needed a man, anyhow?

“Clear away,” she said, turning to dump the pasta into the strainer, not caring if it was completely cooked or not. She topped it with broccoli and some chunks of jack and sat down at the table, gesturing Wade toward a chair. “Sure you’re not hungry?”

He scooted out the chair, revealing her black cat, Inky, who lay curled on the cushion. The cat gave Wade an indignant stare at having been moved from his resting place, not offering to budge from his perch. Unceremoniously, Wade lifted Inky from the cushion and set him on the floor, the expression on his face telling her all she needed to know of his opinion on cats. One she’d already heard from Macy. Tess glared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He eyed her plate. “You call that a meal? Where’s the meat?”

“Where it’s supposed to be,” she said. “On the hoof, not in the freezer.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “Oh-ho-ho, I might’ve known. A vegetarian.” He said it as though being a vegetarian was a felony. She supposed to a cattle rancher, it might as well be.

Narrowing her eyes, she poked a broccoli floret with the tines of her fork. Pretending it was Wade’s fat head. Arrogant jerk. What kind of man didn’t like cats? “What’s it to you, Darland?”

“Darlin’?” He raised his eyebrows and shot her a grin. “And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

Tess felt her lips twitch in a near smile. “You know that’s not what I said.” Then she stabbed another piece of broccoli. How did he do that to her? Make her anger run hot, then ooze away, cold, as though he’d dumped a bucket of chilled honey on it.

“Does your daddy know you’re a traitor?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s right. He supports the cattle and sheep ranchers around here, keeping their livestock in grain products. And all the while you’re shunning meat, eating vegetables like some do-good yuppie.”

Tess let her mouth fall open. She couldn’t help it, and was glad for the fact that she’d already swallowed her bite of ziti. “In the first place, I’m sure my dad is quite aware of my meal preferences. And in the second, I can’t believe you’re sitting in my kitchen, drinking my beer and throwing insults at me! Maybe I ought to call Duke in here.”

“Won’t be necessary,” he said. “I’m not staying any longer than it takes to tell you what’s on my mind.” He set the beer down and leaned forward in his chair. “It’s about Macy.”

Immediately, Tess sobered. Had he punished her when they’d gotten home? Had the child retaliated in some way?

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, no thanks to you.”

“Oh, pardon me, Mr. Beef-eating Rancher, but I wasn’t the one who threatened to sell her mare to the glue factory.”

“I never threatened anything.” Wade’s scowl was back, darkening his hazel eyes to a stormy near green. “I simply tried to get Macy to see the sensible side of things and— Oh, what am I trying to explain it to you for? You sure don’t get it.”

“No, Wade, I think you’re the one who doesn’t get it. You’re breaking your daughter’s heart. What would it hurt you to let her keep the horse? You’ve got about five zillion acres between you and your old man, yet you can’t find room for one retired mare?”

He made a huffing sound. “Dad’s not ranching anymore. He sold most of his place to some developers last month so they could subdivide it and make more room for yuppies to move into this valley.” He glared at her as though she were personally responsible.

“Well, don’t look at me. I’m against all the development happening, but what are you going to do to stop it?” The question was a rhetorical one.

“Imagine that.” Wade drew back, startling her with his smile. He raised his beer in toast. “We actually have something in common, Miss Veggie.”

“Don’t call me that.” Tess scowled at him, then shook her head and gave in to the laugh that bubbled up inside her. She raised her own beer bottle, clinked it against his, then sobered. “But really, Wade. You can’t sell Macy’s horse.”

“I already know that.”

She’d been prepared to argue further. His agreement took her by surprise. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I didn’t realize I’d upset Macy that much.” He shook his head. “She sure doesn’t think things through the way her mama did. Anyway, that’s one of the things I came to tell you. The other one is, you’re not to interfere with my daughter anymore. You’re her 4-H leader, not her mother.”

“As though I’d want to be, since that would mean being married to you.” She wasn’t quite sure where that comment had come from. Actually, she’d love to be Macy’s mom…if only she did indeed come without her dad.

Wade looked stunned by her words. “Well, I reckon there’s not much danger in that,” he said. He downed the rest of the Coors Light and set the bottle on the countertop. “I’d throw that away, but I imagine you’d like to recycle it,” he said. His posture and manner of speech reminded her of Woody Harrelson in the movie The Cowboy Way. Just as much class, she thought with sarcasm. Even more good looks, she admitted reluctantly. And twice as much trouble.

That, she was sure of.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, crossing her arms as she got up from the table. “Maybe I’d rather see if it will break over your thick skull.” She flashed him a mock smile.

To her surprise, he laughed. “I do like your spunk, Miss Tess Vega,” he said. He pointed a forefinger. “Just remember. You’re Macy’s 4-H leader, and that’s all.” He tipped his hat. “’Night, spitfire.”

“Good night yourself,” she said to his departing back. “Jackass.”

HER PHONE RANG in the middle of the night, and for a minute Tess thought it was the alarm clock. Disoriented, she sat up in bed, then scrambled from beneath the covers to answer.

“Hello?” Heart pounding, Tess realized it was 3:45 a.m.

Her mother.

Please, no.

“Tess, it’s Joy Isley. I’m so sorry to wake you at such an ungodly hour, but we’ve got some horses loose out here, and you were the first person who came to mind.”

Shaky with relief, Tess ran a hand through her rumpled hair. “It’s okay. Where are they?”

“They’ve raced up my driveway from the road, and they keep circling the yard and outbuildings. My dog’s barking woke me up. There’re three of them—the horses, that is. I was going to pen them and call the sheriff later, but I can’t catch them. Bobby’s trying to keep them from running back out on the road. I’m really not all that good with horses. Shoot, maybe I should’ve just called the sheriff and not bothered you.”

“No, it’s no bother, Joy. I’ll be right there.”

Tess hung up the phone and hurried to the bathroom. She splashed some water on her face to help her wake up and ran a comb through her hair. Minutes later, she was dressed and heading down the road toward the Isleys’ place with a bucketful of grain and three halters and lead ropes. A single mother, Joy was a regular at the feed store. Her son, Bobby, raised rabbits and pygmy goats. Tess doubted their pens could hold a horse.

A short time later, she pulled her truck into Joy’s driveway, carefully bypassing twelve-year-old Bobby, who stood in the glare of the headlights, waving his arms anytime the stray horses drew near. Tess angled her truck across the driveway to help block their path and climbed out. She didn’t recognize any of the geldings. Two sorrels and a bay, they bore no distinctive markings or brands to differentiate them from the dozens of other horses Tess saw daily in neighboring pastures.