wasted. And yet there was a natural, fluid gracefulness about her.
It was then Ty noticed the mare. Rather than backing up and stretching the rope taut, as was her job, she moved aimlessly, allowing the rope to hang loosely. The lack of assistance, however, didn’t appear to hamper Adele’s performance. She threw her hands in the air, signaling she was done—in less than eight seconds, according to Ty’s internal stopwatch. The students watching at the end of the arena broke into applause. He and Stick joined them.
Stick beamed. “Isn’t she something?”
“Pretty good.” Ty rocked back on his heels, absorbing what he’d just seen and thinking how much he hated admitting his sister might be right about Cowboy College.
Adele stood, exhibiting that same dancer’s grace from earlier. The calf, now free, trotted off, only to be rounded up by one of the wranglers. Suddenly, Adele turned and glanced in Ty’s direction. Their gazes connected, and the same recognition he’d experienced when he first saw her was reflected in her dark green eyes.
“Glad to see you made it, Mr. Boudeau. I’m Adele Donnelly.”
“Glad to be here.”
“Did you get your horse situated?”
“Stick’s taken fine care of us.”
At the compliment, Stick puffed up his skinny excuse for a chest. “Ty still needs to get checked in.”
“I’ll be up to the main lodge in a bit.”
She walked over to her horse, calmly collecting her rope and winding it into a coil. With the ease and confidence of a practiced athlete, she swung up into the saddle and rode out of the arena.
Ty stared after her. Despite hearing of her skill, he’d half expected—make that half hoped—the stories about her to be hype.
They weren’t.
Adele Donnelly could not only show him a thing or two about a sport in which he’d been a top World contender mere months ago, she could quite possibly beat the pants off him.
“HEY, DELLIE.” Adele’s grandfather joined her behind the registration counter. “What are you doing?”
“Hi, Pop.” She straightened from her hunched position and rolled her cramped shoulders. “I’m just going over these schedules.”
“I heard Tyler Boudeau arrived.”
“About an hour ago.”
“You meet him yet?”
“Briefly, at the arena.”
“Which cabin did you assign him?”
“Number twenty-two.”
Pop grunted. “The honeymoon cabin is bigger.”
“It’s booked. Number twenty-two is our next largest cabin, and the view from the back balcony’s the best on the ranch.”
“It’s kind of far from the barn.”
She studied him curiously, wondering what was up.
He rarely concerned himself with a guest’s accommodations, preferring to leave the administrative functions of the ranch and roping school to Adele. On most days, when his acute arthritis didn’t confine him to bed or the couch, he could be found at the barns and arena, teaching classes, overseeing the livestock and supervising the ranch hands. He still put in a full day’s work when he could, but the last few years he’d come to depend more and more on their barn manager to pick up the slack.
“So, what do you think of him?”
Adele paused before answering the question, unsure of her response. Having a professional roper stay at the ranch, particularly one of Ty Boudeau’s caliber, was certainly a boon for business. But the explanation he’d given for his month-long stay, that of training his new horse, hadn’t rung true.
“We exchanged only a few words, and those were pleasant enough.”
“Humph.” Pop seemed disappointed.
“He should be here any minute.”
His eyebrows shot up, momentarily erasing the deep wrinkles creasing his brow. “You don’t say?”
Adele almost laughed, with surprise, not humor. Her grandfather was starstruck and couldn’t wait to meet their semifamous guest.
“In that case, guess I’ll get me a cup of coffee in the kitchen and wait for him.”
“Decaffeinated,” Adele called after his retreating back, and resisted adding, “You know what your doctor said.”
A few minutes later, she looked up from her work to see Ty stride through the lobby door. She had to admit he wasn’t hard to look at. And taller than she’d expected. Picking up the house phone, she paged the kitchen and said, “Tell Pop he’s here,” when Cook answered.
Reaching the counter, Ty removed his cowboy hat, and an unruly lock of sandy-blond hair promptly fell across his tanned forehead. His attempts to push it off his face were wasted…and also charming.
“Welcome again, Mr. Boudeau.” She gave him her best professional yet friendly smile.
“Please, call me Ty.”
“And I’m Adele.”
The registration process didn’t take long. When she finished, she put together a stack of papers, including a brochure, maps of the ranch and the nearby town of Markton, the current week’s schedule of classes and events and a list of rules and regulations.
“Please read through this the first chance you have.” She pointed to the papers stapled together on top. “You can’t begin using the facilities until we have a signed copy on file.”
“Tell me, am I signing away all my rights?”
Adele thought she detected a twinkle of amusement in his dark brown eyes. Perhaps he wasn’t all-business, as she’d first suspected.
“No. You’re just agreeing to abide by the rules and regulations. Very standard stuff. We already have the liability waiver and insurance certificate you faxed last week.”
Ty signed the form without reading it and slid the papers across the counter.
“Let me make you a copy.” She went into the office, where she kept a desktop copier, and returned shortly. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Ty folded the sheets in thirds and slipped them in his shirt pocket, again without reading them.
Oh, well, she’d done all she could.
Her grandfather appeared from the entryway leading to the kitchen, his chronic limp barely noticeable for once.
“Hey there, young fellow.” He extended his right hand. “I’m mighty glad to make your acquaintance.”
