Joshua and the Cowgirl Read online

  “Looks to me like it already has,” he said, more laughter threading through his rich voice.

  “Hmm?” she said blankly.

  Joshua gestured at their surroundings. “Hell, sweetheart. Looks to me like it’s already frozen over.”

  Chapter Two

  Garrett blistered the blue skies with every epithet she could think of to describe Joshua’s character and his heritage. She was still muttering under her breath when she charged into the barn at full throttle.

  “Whoa,” Red Grady said, catching her by the elbows and steadying her as she plowed into his solid, barrel chest. “Who lit a fire under you?”

  “That man,” she said, as if that would be explanation enough.

  “At last check we had about a dozen men on the premises. Care to be more specific?” the ranch foreman inquired, barely containing a grin.

  “Joshua Ames.”

  “Ah,” Red murmured knowingly. “He does have a way of getting under your skin. Why is that, do you suppose?”

  “Because he is an obnoxious, know-it-all jerk.” Garrett grabbed the saddle soap and went to work on her saddle. Red propped a booted foot on a sawhorse and watched her.

  “If you rub much harder, you’re going to wear out the leather,” he observed finally. “Want me to beat the man up for you?”

  Garrett’s gaze shot up to meet his laughing eyes. “You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?” she said, more grateful than ever for Red’s enduring friendship.

  It had been nearly fourteen years since Red had found her waiting tables in that roadside diner halfway between Cheyenne and the ranch. He’d befriended her over eggs and grits and a stack of pancakes that still awed her. Garrett had been seven months pregnant, exhausted and lonely. An uncomplicated, caring man, Red had stood by her, listening to her fears and her dreams. A month before her daughter had been born, he’d brought her to meet Mrs. McDonald. The job interview had gone smoothly. She had known that Red had stuck his neck out for her and that, very likely, Mrs. McDonald had invented a job for her. He’d wanted to see her settled before the birth. She would never forget Red for that. Nor would she ever take advantage of him.

  “I can handle Joshua Ames,” she told him now, though she hadn’t the faintest idea how.

  He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “You know I’d do anything for you, though. That’s a given. You need, you ask, okay?”

  Garrett wrapped her hand around his larger, callused one and pressed it to her cheek. “Thanks, Red.”

  His cheeks turned a shade of red very nearly as bright as his curly, untamed hair. He backed off a step and shoved his hands into his pockets. “No need for thanks. As far as I’m concerned, you and your daughter, Casey, are family and families stick together.” He grinned at her. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind taking a punch at the competition on my own account anyway.”

  The offhanded remark was made cheerfully enough, but it troubled Garrett just the same. She knew Red was fond of her. In his own stumbling way he’d told her more than once that he’d be pleased to share a future with her. If she was ever going to trust a man, Red would be the one, but something had always held her back. Today, encountering Joshua again and feeling her blood race hot and wild at his slightest touch, she recognized what had kept her from that commitment to Red. Garrett didn’t want the kind of danger Joshua represented, but settling for less wasn’t in the cards for her, either. She’d rather go through life alone, accountable only to herself and to Casey. It was a choice she’d made years ago. Until the day she’d met Joshua Ames, she’d never questioned it.

  That alone told her far too much about the threat he posed. With any luck, though, he would be gone in a day or two and she would survive this second attack on her senses unscathed. If there was even the most remote chance of it happening any other way, well, there was always Red’s offer to punch the man out for her.

  * * *

  Joshua paced from one end of the cluttered parlor to the other, dodging musty, old-fashioned furniture and cursing Cal as he went. A fire blazed, which should have made the room welcoming. Instead the house felt stuffy and overheated, making it especially oppressive after the icy air outside and Garrett’s equally chilly reception.

  Joshua’s temper, usually slow to rise, was leashed so tightly that the slightest irritation was likely to set him off. It was his experience that Mrs. McDonald could irritate the dickens out of him in less than ten seconds flat. He could hardly wait for her to waltz in here in that imperious way she had and try to explain why he was here and Cal was basking in the Florida sun. He heard the sharp tapping of her cane and prepared himself for a royal battle.

  “Mr. Ames, it’s so lovely to have you back with us again,” she greeted him in a voice that rang with a strength belied by her slow, obviously painful approach. Joshua found himself moving swiftly to grasp her elbow as she eased herself onto a Victorian chair covered in faded brocade. Though the chair looked miserably uncomfortable, she sat in it regally. Her back was not quite as ramrod straight as he’d remembered, but her still coal-black hair was swept up in a crowning braid that added to the impression of stature and quiet dignity. He might have been fooled had he not seen her enter the room or looked closely at her face.

  Filled with compassion, Joshua pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. He’d heard about her osteoporosis, but this was the first evidence he’d seen of its devastating effect. His anger died in the face of her valiant struggle to brave a pain that shadowed the snapping blue of her eyes and drained the color from her cheeks. The disease had clearly worsened since his last visit.

  “Can I get you something?” he offered.

  A faint smile tugged at the grim set of her mouth. “I can still manage to ring for the help, young man. Tea will be served shortly.”

  Joshua sat back, chastened yet amused. Obviously nothing had weakened her spirit. In that instant his reluctant respect for the gritty, eighty-two-year-old rancher grew tremendously. He vowed to do nothing more to undercut her bravery. This was one situation in which chivalry was most likely to be deemed pity and refused out of hand.

  “Where’s Cal?” he asked far more mildly than he’d intended.

  Her mouth turned down. “Home, I expect. He said something about those infernal horses of his, then took off.”

  “Even though he knew I was coming?”

  “I suspect his sudden hurry might have had something to do with my offer to build him his own place out here, so I could watch my great-grandbabies grow up.”

  Joshua grinned reluctantly. “That would do it.”

  “I don’t know why the man’s so stubborn,” she grumbled. “It makes perfect sense for him to live out here. I know I could convince Marilou, if he’d just give me a little time to work on her. She likes the sense of family continuity here.”

  “And you’re perfectly willing to use his wife’s weakness for family ties to manipulate Cal. No wonder he’s run for his life. I’d be surprised if he ever brings Marilou and the baby back again.”

  Mrs. McDonald scowled at him impatiently. “I might have known you’d stick up for him. Can’t any of you see that this place will all be his one of these days? He needs to know how to run it.”

  “Cal certainly doesn’t need it and he says he doesn’t want it.”

  “Stubborn fool. He’s ignoring reality. I am not about to change my will at this late date. If nothing else, he should think of his children.”

  “He can provide for his children well enough and I suspect he comes by the stubborn need to do so naturally.”

  The observation drew a nod of reluctant satisfaction. “I expect he does at that. I suppose I ought to count it as a blessing that he’s not some namby-pamby sort I can push around.”

  “You certainly should,” Joshua agreed, though less than ten minutes ago he’d been wanting to shove Cal around a little himself. “So, why am I here? Are you hoping I’ll be more amenable to your whims?”

  She chuckled. “That’s
not a label I’d pin on you, young man. You’re worse than that grandson of mine. Cal insisted on dragging you out here, though. Took one look at the books and nearly went into cardiac arrest. He snuck off to call you right after that.”

  “I set up a very simple bookkeeping procedure for you the last time I was here. Didn’t you use it?”

  She waved a gnarled, bejeweled hand indifferently. “More or less.”

  Joshua groaned. “What about the accountant in Cheyenne I contacted for you? Why didn’t you call him?”

  Her chin rose. “I didn’t like him.”

  “Why?”

  “He was too young.”

  “He was nearly sixty.”

  “I didn’t like that awful after-shave he used. Smelled all prissy to me. How can you trust a man who douses himself with scent like that?”

  Joshua muttered an oath, forgetting that Mrs. McDonald’s hearing was sharp as ever. She stiffened. “Young man, I do not tolerate language like that in my house.”

  “Sorry,” he said automatically. “I don’t suppose it crossed your mind that you’re looking for excuses to keep Cal around and involved in things?”

  She sniffed indignantly. “Well, of course I am.” She sighed. “Not that it’s doing me any good.”

  “How’d he convince you to let me come back?”

  “He didn’t ask.”

  “I could leave,” he offered, possibly a shade too enthusiastically. She settled a sharp gaze on him and shook her head.

  “You might as well stay, now that you’re here. I’ve put you in the same room at the top of the stairs. If you need anything, just ask Elena. You should be comfortable enough there for the next few weeks.”

  An immediate knot formed in the pit of his stomach. “Weeks?” he repeated.

  “According to Cal, that’s how long it’s likely to take to straighten out the mess we’ve made of things. Garrett tries, but she has too much to do around here as it is. We both sort of figured if there was money in the bank accounts at the end of the year we’d done okay.”

  Joshua listened to the casual tone and detected the false note at once. Mrs. McDonald had not survived all these years as a widow in this hard, unforgiving environment with an attitude like that. She’d probably counted every penny, then squeezed the last cent of value out of each and every one.

  He met her gaze head on. “You’re an old fraud, you know that?” he said.

  Flustered by the direct challenge, she feigned a coughing fit, then finally shrugged and winked at him. “Maybe so. Maybe not. You’ll know better once you’ve seen those books.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you to keep a duplicate set, all nice and tidy, locked away in your bedroom.”

  “What if I do? You won’t find it.”

  “Maybe I will,” he warned. “It’d mean a lot to me not to come here again.”

  “Enough to sneak in there and risk getting shot with the rifle I keep by my bed?”

  Joshua thought of the danger Garrett represented to his equilibrium and those acres and acres of snow-covered land just crawling with cattle. “Could be,” he told her. “I guess we’ll both just have to wait and see.”

  * * *

  “Por favor,” Elena pleaded as Garrett edged anxiously toward the kitchen door. “The se;atnora wishes you to dine with her and her guest tonight. The little se;atnorita, as well.”

  “I promised Casey I’d make pizza tonight,” Garrett improvised, a trifle desperately. She did not want to sit at that oversized dining-room table and make small talk with a man whose gaze heated her blood as Joshua’s did. It had been incredibly disconcerting this afternoon to discover that she was not nearly as immune to men as she’d believed all these years. It was particularly distressing that it was Joshua Ames who’d awakened her senses from a fourteen-year slumber.

  “I cannot tell the se;atnora that,” Elena said. A crafty note crept into the housekeeper’s voice. “You will have to tell her,” she said triumphantly.

  “Tell me what?” Mrs. McDonald said just then, putting an end to the test of wills.

  Garrett sighed. “I was just explaining to Elena that I’d promised Casey pizza tonight. I’m sorry. I won’t be able to join you for dinner.”

  “Casey is already in the parlor entertaining Joshua.”

  Garrett’s spirits sank. “Oh.”

  Mrs. McDonald nodded victoriously. “That’s settled then. Hold dinner for a half hour, Elena. Mr. Ames and I will have a sherry in the parlor, while we wait for Garrett to change.”

  Garrett looked down at her dirt-smeared jeans and muddy boots. She was achingly tired. If Mrs. Mac was determined to drag her to this dinner, she could just take her as she was. For an instant she was childishly tempted to tell her just that. In the end, though, her fondness for Mrs. Mac, as well as a streak of determined pride, kept her from doing it. “I’ll only be a minute,” she promised wearily.

  It was a full half hour before she reappeared, but judging from the approval in Joshua’s eyes, her attempts to downplay her femininity had been wasted. His slow examination took in the bulky, shapeless blue sweater that fell below her hips, as if he were imagining every concealed curve. His gaze lingered appreciatively on the stretch pants below, then rose again to settle on her face. The only makeup she wore was a pale pink lipstick, but he seemed fascinated by it. Finally, as if he, too, felt disconcerted, he jerked his gaze away, moved toward the silver tray set on the desk and poured himself another glass of sherry from the crystal decanter. He drank it down in one gulp.

  To Garrett’s dismay Mrs. Mac’s curious gaze was fixed on him the entire time. Garrett recognized at once the spark of interest that flared in her eyes at the scene before her. The old woman was an inveterate matchmaker. She’d made Garrett’s marital status her pet project years ago. Garrett’s stubborn refusal to go along with any of her schemes had finally dimmed her hopes, but obviously the last few minutes had rekindled the old fervor.

  “Hey, Mom,” Casey said. “Mr. Ames said he’d teach me to play chess. Isn’t that great?”

  Garrett didn’t like the idea of her daughter getting chummy with Joshua. It would be just one more reason why she’d have to be nice to him and at the moment she wanted to put up as many hostile barriers as possible. “Between your schoolwork and your chores, I don’t know when you’ll have time.”

  “Perhaps Casey could be excused from her chores while Joshua is here,” Mrs. McDonald suggested with sly innocence.

  “Absolutely not,” Garrett protested.

  Casey’s face fell. “Oh, Mom, please. You know I’ve been wanting and wanting to learn. You don’t know how and Mrs. Mac says he plays much better than she does. Besides, it won’t be for long. I deserve a vacation. All the other hands get one.”

  Garrett grinned despite herself. She ruffled her thirteen-year-old’s unruly golden curls. Casey prided herself on being one of the cowboys. Since she’d been old enough to sit in a saddle, the men had tolerantly allowed her along on their roundups, teaching her everything they knew about ranching and probably more than she needed to know about the world. It had made her precocious, but it had also given her a sense of responsibility. She handled more chores than most children her age and she did it without complaint.

  “How long a vacation do you figure you deserve?” Garrett asked.

  Casey turned adoring eyes on Joshua, who in turn was watching Garrett’s reaction. “How long will you be here?” Casey asked him.

  He hesitated as if waiting for guidance from one of the women. “Long enough to teach you what you need to know to beat Mrs. Mac,” he promised finally.

  “I can almost do that now,” Casey scoffed.

  “Then maybe you ought to save that vacation for something else,” he said.

  Casey shook her head adamantly. “No. It’s my vacation. I get to choose what to do during my vacation. I really, really want to learn how to play chess.”

  “I suppose it won’t hurt if you take a few days to hone your skills,” Ga
rrett conceded finally, unwilling to rob her daughter of a few hours of excitement and special attention. Besides, if Joshua was occupied at the chessboard, he’d have far less time to trouble her with his penetrating glances.

  Mrs. Mac rose just then. “Shall we go into dinner, ladies? Joshua? Elena has made one of her Mexican specialties, I believe.”

  Garrett watched closely as Joshua moved at once to her boss’s side. His touch on her elbow was polite, a courtly gesture that the independent woman couldn’t possibly interpret as pity. The thoughtfulness behind his action pricked Garrett’s conscience. Her own rudeness grated in the face of his good manners. She sighed as she watched Casey follow them into the dining room, chattering like a magpie until Mrs. Mac, chuckling, hushed her. “You’re making my stomach hurt with your tall tales, girl. Elena will have our hides if we don’t do justice to her dinner.”

  With Elena hovering, they sat down to enchiladas crammed with spicy chicken and doused liberally with sour cream. Refried beans and Spanish rice completed the main course. Garrett picked up the bowl of green chili salsa and spooned it sparingly on her food. Mrs. Mac shook her head when it was offered to her. Garrett turned to Joshua.

  “Salsa?” she asked innocently.

  “Of course.”

  He ladled on a generous portion that left Casey wide-eyed and Garrett chuckling to herself. He lifted the first forkful of food to his mouth. Garrett waited for him to grab for his glass of water. But even though the hot sauce brought tears to his eyes, he grinned. “Wonderful,” he said with obviously genuine pleasure as Elena beamed, her face a roadmap of wrinkles. “This is the best Mexican food I’ve had since I lived in Texas. Most restaurants are real wimps about the seasonings.”

  “You lived in Texas?” Casey asked. “Did you have oil wells?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Cattle, like us?”

  “No. My dad was a banker, first in ranching country, then in Dallas. I guess I developed my fascination with numbers and money from listening to him. When banks all around us were failing, his stayed solvent.”