The Cowboy Code

A laugh from the bunkhouse brought him back to reality. What was he thinking? She was a participant in his program.

“Um…good night, Joe.”

“Night, Maggie.” He headed down the path, then stopped. “The phone number to the bunkhouse is right by the phone. Call if you need anything—anything at all.”

He gritted his teeth. That sounded like a proposition, and he hadn’t meant that at all.

“I mean…uh…” He couldn’t think.

“I know what you mean, Joe. See you bright and early in the morning.”

He caught himself whistling as he walked to the bunkhouse. He hadn’t whistled in ages.

But sleep wouldn’t come. He kept thinking about Maggie, who had a wagonload of trouble she had to deal with. Her heaviest cargo was the smallest kid in Cowboy Quest.

Would he be able to help her?

Dear Reader,

The Cowboy Code kicks off my new miniseries, Gold Buckle Cowboys, which I hope you’ll love reading as much as I’ve enjoyed writing. The gold buckle symbolizes the cowboy’s victory over wild bulls, broncs or steers in competition. Every cowboy wants a gold buckle—even more than money. The buckle is a conversation piece, a good pickup topic for a “buckle bunny,” and it can be pawned when a cowboy is down and out—although he’d rather cut off an arm!

My Gold Buckle Cowboys are honorable men with hearts of gold and a trophy case full of gold buckles. They are cowboys who turn to mush over kids and can be tamed only by women who are as strong as they are.

They are cowboys who will win your heart in eight seconds!

What woman wouldn’t want a Gold Buckle Cowboy’s boots under her bed?

I’d love to hear from you! I can be contacted at www.christinewenger.com or at P.O. Box 2000, Cicero, NY 13039.

Cowboy up!

Chris Wenger

The Cowboy Code

Christine Wenger

CHRISTINE WENGER

has worked in the criminal justice field for more years than she cares to remember. She has a master’s degree in probation and parole studies and sociology from Fordham University, but the knowledge gained from such studies certainly has not prepared her for what she loves to do most—write romance! A native central New Yorker, she enjoys watching professional bull riding and rodeo with her favorite cowboy, her husband, Jim.

Chris would love to hear from readers. She can be reached by mail at P.O. Box 2000, Cicero, NY, 13039 or through her website at christinewenger.com.

To my wonderful sister-in-law, Jean Matyjasik,

for her friendship, laughter and good nature.

And she can make a really good babka!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

Maggie McIntyre couldn’t wait to unfold herself from the dusty wreck of a pickup truck sent from the Silver River Ranch.

It had been a long, tedious day that had started at dawn, when her nephew Danny was released to her from juvenile detention in lower Manhattan. Then they had had to change planes three times—starting at JFK International Airport—before they’d finally landed at this blip on the map called Mountain Springs, Wyoming.

And throughout the day, Danny had barely spoke three words to her, civil or otherwise.

To alleviate his worries—if he was indeed worrying—she’d tried to convince him that the Cow boy Quest Program would be a good experience for both of them, but she had a feeling that her monologue had fallen on deaf ears.

Still, Maggie hoped that at least some of her words would sink in. Maybe Danny would realize that they were in Cowboy Quest together—as a family—and not only would they work on their communication skills and strengthen their bond, but they’d have a good time, too.

Where else could they learn to rope, ride horses, go on a cattle drive and basically live differently than what they were used to? It would be an experience that they’d remember their entire lives.

As she spoke, Danny remained silent and aloof.

Would there ever come a day when she’d be able to reach him? What had happened to the sweet boy that she’d watched grow up? When had he turned into a hostile and shuttered thirteen-year-old?

Finally, after a long, bumpy drive, they pulled into the entrance of the ranch. As far as she could see in the dusky light, there were miles of emerald-green grass shimmering in the spring breeze.

So this was the Wild West—although she hoped it wasn’t too wild.

Maggie paused a moment before opening the door and studied the ranch house in front of her. Floor-to-ceiling windows jutted out from the middle of the two angled wings, and it reminded her of a bird—in this case, an eagle—about to take flight.

The house—if that was the right term—sat regally on a hill overlooking several outbuildings and the surrounding countryside. Brick walkways led to some of these outbuildings.

Maggie couldn’t wait to explore.

Their driver, Quint, who was as quiet as Danny during the drive here, opened the door of the truck for her, and Maggie stepped onto a soft patch of Wyoming grass.

“C’mon, Danny,” she said, zipping up her designer fleece coat. “We’re here.”

No answer.

“Aren’t you going to get out of the truck, son?” Quint asked.

In response, the wizened cowboy got a bored shrug from the sullen teenager.

Maggie hoped that the change of scenery would be what she and Danny needed to rebuild and strengthen their relationship, but that wouldn’t happen if he wouldn’t even get out of the truck.

Maggie had only herself to blame for the chasm between Danny and herself. When her sister, Liz, died two years ago—four years after the boy’s father—leaving her as Danny’s sole guardian, Maggie had immersed herself even more in her acting, her escape from the painful loss of the sister she’d so loved. Besides, she was a single mother now, and she needed to support herself and Danny. With a heavy heart, she’d realized too late that her absence from Danny had done him more harm than good. At a time when he’d needed her the most, she’d been working long hours—and Danny had been getting into trouble.

She had to have faith that Joe Watley’s Cowboy Quest program would be her nephew’s salvation—and hers, too.

She hoped that Cowboy Quest would somehow help Danny realize that their shared grief was keeping them apart, and that he was acting out because he was afraid of losing her, too. Her job would be to help Danny accept the fact that he’d never lose her. She’d always be in his life, always be there for him.

If she and Danny were able to accomplish these important things, they would be well on their way to becoming a real family, and Maggie wanted that more than anything.

If Danny successfully completed the program, the family court wouldn’t place him in a juvenile correctional facility.

If Danny were placed, that would mean she had failed him, and Maggie couldn’t stand to bear that burden. Liz had given up so much to help Maggie’s career in the theater. If she failed Danny, it would be like failing Liz, too.

As she looked around, she noticed a man walking toward her—a big hulk of a man. Judging by his white hat and saucer-sized belt buckle, she concluded that he was definitely a cowboy.

Maggie tried not to stare at him, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt as if she was being pulled toward him by some unknown force. He was the epitome of what she thought a real cowboy would look like. His straight black hair was pulled into a ponytail with a string of rawhide, and he wore a long-sleeved chambray shirt tucked into a pair of faded denim jeans.

If his high cheekbones were any indication, he might even have some Native American blood. His skin was a deep shade of brown, but that could be just from all the outdoor work he must do.

There weren’t many cowboys in Manhattan, but he’d certainly stand out in a crowd among any. He’d probably stand out in a crowd here in Wyoming, too.

But what credentials did this big cowboy have, other than the fact that the family court judge seemed to have absolute faith in him? Could she really trust him with her nephew?

And why wasn’t there any information about the program online?

He stopped in front of her and smiled warmly. “Welcome to the Silver River Ranch. You must be Maggie McIntyre.” He yanked a brown leather work glove off and held out his hand. “I’m Joe Watley, and I’m in charge of the Cowboy Quest program. Sorry I wasn’t able to pick you and Danny up at the airport myself, but there was a problem with one of my bulls.”

Maggie held out her hand, and as he engulfed it in his, she felt a shock zip through her body, and all her senses were suddenly on alert. His calloused grip told her that he did more than run a program for juvenile delinquents and oversee a ranch. He did hard work.

He released her hand and tugged his glove back on. “The vet had just arrived, so I couldn’t leave, but I’m sure that Quint took good care of you.”

“He did. And Mr. Watley, I’d like to thank you for accepting my nephew into your program,” she said with more conviction than she actually felt.

“Call me Joe.” He pushed his hat back with a thumb. “I believe that you’re participating in my program, too, Ms. McIntyre.”

Judge Cunningham felt that six weeks of Joe’s Cowboy Quest program would be a good bonding experience for both of them—in fact, he’d made it a condition of her ability to maintain custody. Maggie hoped with all her heart that this program would solve all their problems.

“It’s good to be here.” Maggie forced herself to keep her eyes on Joe’s and stop her inspection of his muscular body. “Danny is very happy to be part of your program and be here on your ranch.”

“I doubt that very much, since he won’t even get out of the truck.” Joe’s onyx eyes twinkled and a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “And I doubt that you’re thrilled to be here, either. It’s a far cry from Broadway.”

“You know about me?” Maggie asked.

“I have a copy of the probation officer’s report.”

“I see,” she said, unnerved. “Well, I’m here for Danny, and I’m going to do my best.”

“So will I.”

Maggie remembered the serious probation officer who’d come to her SoHo apartment to interview her and Danny in order to prepare an investigation. The officer had stated that the report would go to the judge to assist him in deciding what to do with Danny. Now Joe had a copy of the report. Maggie didn’t know if she wanted him or his staff or anyone else knowing about her family problems, but then again, he probably needed the information in order to help.

Still, what could this cowboy do, when the best social workers and psychologists in New York City couldn’t get Danny to change his behavior?

Maggie looked back at the pickup. Danny still sat in the front seat, and Quint still stood by the opened passenger door, looking amused. The set of the boy’s shoulders told Maggie exactly what Danny was thinking—he wanted to be anywhere but here.

But they were both here because Danny had been acting as a lookout while his so-called friends were burglarizing a nearby grocery store. The others had gotten away, but Danny was arrested and refused to name the others involved.

She’d had a talk with him about being a leader instead of a follower, but apparently it hadn’t sunk in, judging by his attitude.

She met Joe’s gaze and stiffened her shoulders. This would be just as hard as she’d thought.

Maggie began walking toward the pickup to have a word with Danny, but Joe placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. He’s my responsibility now.”

His light touch was warm and reassuring, and Maggie felt the same relief wash over her as she felt when the curtain closed at the end of a performance and the audience erupted in applause. It was then, and only then, that she could relax.

But she couldn’t relax here. The Cowboy Quest program would be work, hard work. Her plan was to throw herself into the program just like she did when she prepared for a new role. She loved Danny as if she’d actually given birth to him, and she would do whatever it took to heal their broken relationship.

Joe walked over to where Danny sat. “Welcome to the Silver River Ranch, partner. I’m Joe Watley. I’m in charge of the program.”

Maggie let the low timbre of his voice wash over her, relax her. Joe didn’t waste a word, and he spoke with complete confidence and authority.

Danny looked away, but Joe pressed on. “I hope you don’t expect Quint to unload your luggage. Every cowboy here hauls his own weight, and that means you, too. We’ll get you settled in the bunkhouse, and then we’ll take your aunt’s things to the main house.”

“The main house?” Danny asked, looking up for the first time.

“Did you expect her to stay in the bunkhouse with the other participants?” Joe asked with a grin.

“Where are you going to be?” Danny asked. Sarcasm dripped from his voice like icicles melting from a roof.

“I’ll be staying in the bunkhouse with everyone else.” Joe met Danny’s eyes. “And it’s to your credit that you’re looking after your aunt. Being respectful to women is part of the Cowboy Code.”

“The Cowboy Code? Spare me.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s lame.”

“It’s not lame. The Cowboy Code consists of general rules for gentlemanly behavior—things that any good citizen should follow. And believe it or not, you got one of the components.” Joe grinned. “One down, several to go.”

Danny didn’t turn away, but blinked, stunned. Slowly—grudgingly—he climbed out of the truck.

Maggie was impressed with Joe’s response to Danny’s sarcasm. He’d taken what could have been a sensitive subject and ended it on an upbeat note.

Was Danny worried that she and Joe might get close?

She wondered, not for the first time, what went on in a thirteen-year-old boy’s head. Why would he think that they’d live under the same roof and get involved just like that? Merciful heavens, she’d just met the man.

Was Danny worried that she’d spend more time with Joe than with him?

Then it dawned on her. Steve Rayborn. She remembered when Danny had thought that she was serious about Steve, a costar in her last musical. A dear friend, he’d helped her through Liz’s two-year battle with cancer and her ongoing struggle to act like a parent. When Maggie finally confronted Danny about his silent treatment and rude remarks toward Steve, the boy had admitted that he thought Maggie was going to marry Steve and that they wouldn’t want him.

Realizing how frightened her nephew was of losing the only family he had left, Maggie explained that Steve was just a friend, and that Danny would always be first and foremost in her life.

Now, though, it seemed that Danny’s old insecurities were resurfacing. But she hoped that Cowboy Quest would finally put her fears to rest. Sure, Joe was out of the ordinary and handsome enough to be a leading man, but Maggie had enough to deal with right now without adding romance to her life. Besides, she was too worried about Danny’s future to think about starting something with Joe, or anyone else for that matter.

She’d have to try and explain that to her nephew and encourage him to take this program more seriously. He didn’t seem to care that he could be placed in foster care.

As she watched Joe and Danny hauling luggage together, she looked up at the vibrant colors of the setting sun and said a little prayer that Joe would be able to reach the boy.

Joe motioned for her to join them. “Maggie, come and see the bunkhouse. It’s not much, but Danny’s going to call it home for six weeks.”

They walked in silence with nothing but the crunch of the gravelly path under their feet. In front of them stood a long stretch of clapboard building with several windows and an inviting porch with a dozen white rocking chairs. Some swayed slightly in the late-spring breeze, as if ghostly inhabitants were enjoying an evening break.

Joe knocked on the door. “Lady present. Is everyone decent?”

She could hear the scraping of chairs and the sound of boots on a wooden floor.

“Yeah, boss. C’mon in.” The voice sounded like Quint’s.

As Joe opened the door, seven cowboys stood at attention, holding their hats in their hands.

Joe introduced them. “Adriano, he’s my foreman. This handsome gent is Guillerme, or Willy for short. And this tall son-of-a-gun is Ronnie. Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Dan Turner and his aunt, Maggie McIntyre.”

There were four more cowboys present whose names she promptly forgot. She forced a smile and shook hands, wondering again how these men could possibly help Danny.

What on earth was Judge Cunningham thinking?

Danny halfheartedly shook hands with them all, but he wasn’t smiling. Right now he seemed younger than his thirteen years. His long, narrow face sprinkled with freckles made him look about ten years old. He was thin, bordering on skinny, but his fierce blue eyes were the windows to his soul. And right now, his soul wasn’t happy.

Maggie gave the bunkhouse a quick glance. The walls were just plywood, and there was nothing to give the big room color other than a calendar with a green tractor urging insurance in case of ranch accidents.

A long, beat-up table sported coffee-ring stains, an array of assorted mugs and lots of dig marks, no doubt made by the men’s spurs when they put their feet up on the table.

A fairly new galley kitchen ran half the length of the room, but what she noticed the most was the monstrous coffeemaker on a round table by the stove. In fact, the whole place smelled of coffee.

“Danny, you’re the first participant to arrive. The others will be here any time now,” Ronnie stated. “You get to pick your bunk.”

“I don’t care,” Danny said, but Maggie noticed that he looked around and drifted toward one of the metal cots by a window.

He’s probably planning his escape route, she thought.

The bunkhouse was certainly a few stories down from their apartment in SoHo. And here Danny didn’t have his own bedroom.

Joe held out his hand to shake Danny’s. “I’ll see you later for grub. Make up your bunk and get settled in, and I’ll escort your aunt to the main house. When the others arrive, the boys will show you all around the ranch.”

Danny shook Joe’s hand but didn’t meet his gaze, looking at the floor. Maggie tried to swallow the lump in her throat, saddened that Danny would freeze out the man who was his best shot at a fresh start.

She willed herself to believe that coming here had been a good idea.

As she followed Joe up the hill to the house, Maggie noticed that the rambling stone and log structure somehow fit perfectly into the landscape. A snow-capped mountain range and a copse of conifers peeked over the roof, completing the picture.

Maggie stared in awe. “What a breathtaking house. I can’t wait to see inside.”

There was still a fairly steep climb on a landscaped brick walkway to get to the front door.

Joe smiled. “My father built it for my mother when they were first married. She’s Lakota Sioux, and he constructed the house with twelve beams, just like the Lakota teepee was constructed with twelve poles. And the door faces east, which represents the rising sun and a new day.”

She’d been right. He was part Native American.

She stole a glance at Joe. Effortlessly carrying her heavy suitcase and tote bag, he wasn’t even breathing hard. Every arm muscle bulged under his shirt. His thighs looked rock-hard under his jeans.

His physical appearance made her heart pump faster, but there was so much more to Joe. He seemed to have a quiet dignity and an almost inner peace about him, as if he knew the secret of keeping centered. She hoped he’d share his secret with Danny, and her, too.

Maybe Danny was right to worry. She was interested in Joe.

But she wasn’t interested in him in a romantic way. He intrigued her, probably because he was just so different from the men she knew. That didn’t mean that they were going to start something, like Danny seemed to think.

Not when her main concern was her nephew and getting him through Cowboy Quest.

She might as well add herself to that. She had to get through Cowboy Quest, too, and she didn’t know the first thing about riding a horse or going on a cattle drive.

But one thing she did know was that she was going to do her best and then maybe, just maybe, she and Danny would become a closer, happier and stronger family.

Chapter Two

Joe felt the burn in his muscles from carrying Maggie’s suitcases up the hill to his house.

Good. It took his mind off her—a little.

She was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her hair shimmered like spun gold in the afternoon sun, and her green eyes were bright and sparkly. Even if he hadn’t already known from reading the probation department’s report, he could tell she was a dancer by the way she moved—graceful and light on her feet. She almost floated when she walked.

She didn’t seem to be the type who could handle mucking out stalls, grooming horses or several days on a cattle drive.

He opened the door to let her in. “Make yourself at home. My Aunt Betty is usually here in the office doing the record keeping and running my life, not necessarily in that order, but she’s visiting her sister in Tucson for a couple of months. So the place is all yours.”

“I can’t imagine having this whole house to myself. This is magnificent, Joe. My apartment in New York can fit into it about forty times!” Her excitement faded. “But if I wasn’t here, you could have stayed in your home instead of at the bunkhouse.”

“No, I always bunk with the kids during Cowboy Quest. So make yourself at home.”

The only other woman who had ever stayed at his ranch was Ellen Rogers. Ellen had stolen his heart when she kissed him on the playground in fourth grade, after he’d stopped some boys from teasing her.

That was about the time he learned that he didn’t have to start swinging his fists to get his point across. His size alone—even in grade school—made him seem formidable.

They’d become lifelong friends after that. Inseparable. Her parents had the neighboring ranch, about twenty miles away, and their spread was almost as big as the Silver River.

He’d asked Ellen to marry him when they graduated from college, and she’d agreed—but she didn’t seem as excited as he’d expected. Then she broke up with him four months later and moved to Los Angeles, where she’d taken a job with a software company. He couldn’t remember the details; all he heard was her voice saying, “I’m sorry, Joe. But I don’t want to live on a ranch. I want more.”

He still wondered if she’d ever truly loved him. If she had, then they could have worked something out. But instead, she’d picked concrete, high-rises and crowds over his Silver River Ranch.

And all his dreams went up in smoke.

He’d built up the Silver River Ranch in the hope he’d have a wife and kids to share it with, but obviously that wasn’t in the cards. At least the ranch was solid and dependable. Women were flighty and fickle—and he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

A crash brought him back to reality. It was Maggie, scared by Calico, his aunt’s cat.