I don’t know.” Lisa swallowed. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Sure,” Doris chimed in. “Garrett would be perfect for the job.”
Lisa swung an appraising look at the cowboy who so clearly resented her presence. “You could do it...with some practice.”
The man uttered something unintelligible as he rose from his seat. He strode across the room to the fireplace, where he hung the guitar back on its peg. Leaning one shoulder against the rock wall, he announced, “I don’t have time. Taking care of the Circle P is a full-time job. Add all the stuff I have to do to get ready for the roundup, and I don’t have a free minute.”
Ty gave him a pensive stare. “That’s true, but you said yourself the ranch hands already know what to do. Besides,” he said, his voice deepening, “this is all part of the job you signed on for when you agreed to manage the ranch.”
Though Garrett gave his boss a hard stare, the matter was settled. Minutes later, as they hashed out the final details over coconut cake, Lisa glanced across the table to find Garrett’s gaze focused on her. The dessert turned to dry crumbs in her mouth, and she swallowed, suddenly wondering if spending any time with the rancher was worth the cost, no matter how good it was for her business.
“Get on, now.” Garrett swung his rope. A six-hundred-pound heifer could cover ground pretty quick when she wanted. This one did and joined the rest of the small herd he and the men were moving to the east pasture. Garrett frowned when two more of the prized Andalusians broke from the pack, determined to head back the way they’d come. A shrill whistle cut through the heavy air as one of the ranch hands signaled the crew of motley cattle dogs to head off the runaways.
“Stupid cows.” Dwayne swore, reining his horse in beside Garrett’s.
“Aw, they’re not the dumbest animals in the kingdom,” Garrett pointed out. “Opossums, now they’re stupid. Always trying to cross the road. Always endin’ up just plain dead.”
“Makes a body wonder how there can be any of ’em left.” Dwayne grinned, his impressive buck teeth shining white in the morning sun. The young man touched his heels to his horse’s sides and moseyed after the cows.
Another bead of sweat rolled down Garrett’s back. Even heavier than the oppressive heat and humidity, responsibility for the ranch pressed down on his shoulders. Managing the Circle P was good work, honest work, a tradition that had been passed from father to son for four generations. As the oldest of Doris and Seth’s five boys, he should have stepped into the role when his dad died. At the time, though, Garrett had been teaching in Atlanta. With a career he enjoyed, a woman he loved and a son on the way, he’d planned to stay there forever. Randy and Royce had offered to take over in his stead once they finished up their obligations in Montana. Till that happened, first Colt and then Hank had spent time managing the ranch. Now, that Garrett’s plans for the future had fallen apart, it was his turn. Eventually, though, the twins would make good on their promise to come home, and he’d have to go...somewhere. Do...something.
Where or what, now, those were two very good questions. There’d been a time when he’d made his livelihood bustin’ broncs in the rodeo. He’d set aside his dreams of gold buckles and big purses so he and Arlene could teach school when they’d gotten serious about one another. But rodeoin’ was a young man’s game, and at thirty-six, he was too old for it. Teaching—that was out, too. Expecting to see his wife’s face every time he’d walked into the teacher’s lounge or passed the classroom that used to be hers, he’d barely made it through the end of the term.
He tipped his Stetson and gazed at the sky. The brilliant blue overhead gave way to low, gray clouds on the distant horizon, and he couldn’t help wondering if his future was just as dark. Nearly a year after losing Arlene, he couldn’t get through the day without striking out at the unfairness of it all. Without wishing it had been him, not her, who’d been taken. Everyone—his mom, his brothers, Ty—they all wanted him to rise above the heaviness he carried in his heart. He wanted that, too. Wanted to be a father to his son. Wanted to feel something besides an ever-present sense of meh. But lately, the only times he’d felt alive at all had been when he was riding so close to the edge that the slightest wrong move would send him spiraling into hell and gone.
His horse, Gold, shook his head and blew air. The motion de-railed Garrett’s black thoughts. He gave the sky another look and resettled his hat. A predicted storm front would move in overnight. Not that rain in south Florida in the summer should come as a big surprise to anyone. No, the only surprise would be if it didn’t pour. But this storm had all the makings of a real beaut. Early or not, he wanted the men out of the pasture, their horses in the barn before the first drops fell.
“Let’s step it up,” he called to the riders. “We’ll move these cattle and call it a day.”
“Hey-up. Hey-up.” With the promise of a free afternoon in the offing, the men urged their horses to pick up the pace. The cow dogs followed suit. Dodging horns, their barks wilder and more frequent, the well-trained curs darted between hooves, nipped at heels and generally made such a nuisance of themselves that the cattle broke into a trot just to get away from them.
Twenty sweat-soaked minutes later, Garrett mopped his brow with his bandana while the rest of the hands herded the cows through the open gate and onto fresh grass. He swigged water from his canteen as a jangle of tack and the creak of leather announced another rider’s approach. Recapping the bottle, Garrett cut a glance at a young cowhand.
“What’cha need?” he asked the boy who, according to all reports, had shown more interest in birds than cattle.
“Thought I might head over and batten down the solar array on the west pasture.” Josh tugged on the brim of a sweat-stained Stetson. “In case we get some wind tonight.”
Garrett narrowed his eyes. “Why? You think it’s gonna be a problem?” The solar arrays were sturdy things, built to withstand the weather.
The boy lifted a shoulder. “I was working on it yesterday. I might’ve forgot to put the tie-downs back on.”
Garrett lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “You might have forgot? Or you did?” He had to be sure before he authorized the ride across six hundred acres of prime grazing land.
Josh averted his eyes. “A pair of wood storks wandered past just as I was finishing up. I might’ve been a bit distracted. But I’d hate for the array to get damaged on my account. Those things are darn expensive, aren’t they?”
“You got that right.” Cement ponds with solar-powered pumps to keep the water flowing meant less pollution than old-fashioned watering holes. So, even though every rancher in south Florida complained about the cost, they’d all installed one or two.
A light tug on Gold’s reins brought the buckskin quarter horse to a prancing stop. Garrett sifted the stallion’s mane while he took another look at the distant clouds. If he let the horse run, they’d make it across the section and back before dinner, but he’d probably have to skip the practice jam at Pickin’ Strings tonight. He shrugged. He was okay with that. The tall, willowy new owner might have a voice like an angel’s and curves in all the right places, but it still rankled that Ty and his mom had made him promise to work with her.
His decision made, Garrett reined his horse to the left. “You go on with the others,” he told
