The Cowboy's Secret Read online

  No, he’d do it his way this time.

  And that meant taking a shot at the cowboy life he’d always dreamed about.

  “Okay.” He nodded firmly. His heart felt light—lighter than it had in a long time. “I’ll talk to the guy about getting a job.”

  She visibly relaxed.

  “But you’ve got to do something for me, too.”

  “What?”

  “Let me spend more than a few minutes once or twice a week with Phoebe. And I need to know more about how you plan on raising her.”

  * * *

  Oh, chicken and biscuits, the man was staying!

  This was a disaster. Why hadn’t she been firmer when he’d thrown out he was sticking around for a while? This guy could be as slippery as the stones in Silver Rocks River. And, worse, instead of discouraging him from staying by telling him he had to get a job, she’d gone ahead and handed him one.

  What had she been thinking?

  Stu did need help. Badly. But it didn’t mean Dylan had to trot over there and work for the man.

  What if Dylan liked it here so much he stayed? For good?

  She wasn’t one to hyperventilate, but her breathing got distinctively shallow. Stop being dramatic. “I don’t mind discussing Phoebe’s care, but I’m the one raising her so I call the shots.”

  “I respect that.” A sparkle in his eyes appeared that hadn’t been there previously. It made him even more attractive. “The baby—she’s got my brother’s eyes, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t make sure she grew up with anything less than she deserves.”

  Less than she deserves? Gabby tried not to bristle. What did he mean by that? He talked as if he had something to offer. She thought back to the expensive rental truck and his admittance he’d gotten a small inheritance. Maybe the money had gone to his head.

  “I’ll see to it she has everything she needs,” she said. Phoebe threw the stuffed toy on the floor, and Gabby bent to pick it up.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I’ll be here if you need me.”

  Need him? She almost laughed, but he’d said it with a straight face. She hated to break it to him, but she would never need him. Maybe he’d gotten a false impression from her.

  “Look, we hardly know each other,” Gabby said. “And no offense, but I’ve got this. I took care of the baby fine up until now, and I’ll continue to do so whether you stay in Rendezvous or not. If you want me to take you seriously, I suggest you talk to Stu and get settled. Leave raising Phoebe to me.”

  The muscle in his cheek jumped. Good. She’d struck a nerve. Just because he’d decided to live here for a while didn’t mean he’d stick around forever. If he wanted to be in Phoebe’s life, he had to earn the right. And that meant not only getting a job, but keeping it for as long as he stayed. Abiding by her rules. And not expecting her to bend over backward to make him comfortable.

  He wanted to be in Phoebe’s life? Well, he’d have to earn her respect.

  Gabby had no time for anything less. And her niece deserved the best he had to offer. Come to think of it, they both did. And if Dylan couldn’t or wouldn’t give Phoebe the attention and devotion she was worthy of, Gabby would send him packing with no regrets.

  “No one is questioning your parenting skills,” he said. “You said it was tough on a girl not having a father figure in her life. I get that. I’m not asking to be her dad or the fun uncle or whatever you think. I want her to have a good life. The same as you do.”

  Well, she hadn’t been expecting those words to come out of his mouth. A blast of shame heated her neck. Dylan Kingsley was saying all the right things. And she couldn’t help thinking he was sincere. Maybe she should put aside her misgivings and give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Okay.” She sighed. “If you’re serious about staying here for a month or so, I’ll meet you halfway on the schedule. I’m also willing to listen to your thoughts on how to raise her. Beyond that, I make no promises.”

  His slow grin held appreciation and gratitude. And it upped his appeal to a dangerous level.

  “Thanks, Gabby. I won’t let her down.”

  She cocked one eyebrow but didn’t say a word. He’d better not let Phoebe down. If he did, she’d make sure he regretted it. Only one question lingered—could she remain immune to the handsome cowboy?

  The last one had broken her heart, but she was a long way from the gullible eighteen-year-old she’d been back then. She’d learned how to protect herself. No one could break her like Carl had ever again. Not Dylan, not anyone.

  Chapter Four

  He could see himself working here.

  Stuart Miller’s ranch sprawled against the backdrop of blue skies and mountains. Sunday afternoon, Dylan walked past empty corrals toward a weathered red barn. Cattle grazed on a hill in the distance, and everywhere he looked were signs of summer. Green grass and blue and yellow wildflowers covered the prairie. A gurgling river snaked behind the outbuildings. The light swoosh of breeze kept the heat at bay.

  The view, the quiet, the vastness of this place filled him with the sensation of coming home. He hoped he’d make a good enough impression to get hired.

  He didn’t have any real experience with cattle ranching, no references to share. How did a job interview like this work, anyhow?

  A tall, older man with a paunch came out of the barn and strode toward him. He looked exactly the way Dylan pictured a seasoned ranch owner would. He wore a cowboy hat, short-sleeved shirt, jeans, leather chaps and cowboy boots. A thick gray mustache covered his tanned, lined face. His piercing blue eyes took in Dylan as he approached.

  He squared his shoulders and held out his hand. “Dylan Kingsley. Thanks for agreeing to meet me, sir.”

  Now that they were face-to-face, Dylan noticed the toothpick he chewed. After a lengthy once-over, the man took his hand, pumped it once and hitched his chin.

  “Stu Miller. Coulda used ya last week when we were sorting cattle.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond, but no response seemed necessary since Stu turned on his heel and strode back toward the barn. Should he follow him? Or was that it? Had he failed some secret test?

  “Well, are you gonna saddle up or not?” Stu called over his shoulder, waving for him to join him.

  He jogged to catch up with Stu. They strode in silence until they entered the barn. His eyes took a minute to adjust to the dim light. The smell of straw and manure brought him right back to spending summer days at his friend’s ranch. He savored the memories of a time when life had kind of made sense.

  “Tack room’s back there.” Stu pointed to the wall beyond the empty stalls. “Grab a saddle, and I’ll get your mount. Meet me out front when you’re ready.”

  Didn’t Stu want to question him about his experience? Get any info about his previous jobs? Find out if he was qualified?

  Was he hired and didn’t know it?

  He selected his equipment from the orderly tack room, hoisted a saddle off one of the racks and brought it all outside. A pair of quarter horses stood near the fence. Stu was already seated on one.

  “You’ll be riding Jethro today. This here’s Diego.”

  Dylan made quick work of saddling Jethro, gently patting and murmuring to the beautiful mahogany horse. When he prepared to mount, Jethro’s ears angled back as if more than ready to get on with the ride. He patted the horse’s neck and kept a loose grip on the reins. It had been a few years since he’d ridden, but it felt natural to be back in the saddle.

  Stu gave him a long stare. “Where’s your rope?”

  He’d forgotten the rope. Of all the dumb moves... A real cowboy would never make such a rookie mistake.

  “I’ll be right back.” Dylan dismounted, secured Jethro’s reins to the nearby fence and loped back to the barn to grab a rope. Within minutes he was back on the horse and ready to ride.


  Stu urged Diego forward. Dylan rode alongside him. They fell into an easy rhythm. Jethro seemed like a disciplined, smart horse.

  “I’ve split the herd—about 250 head of Black Angus and Hereford cattle—into groups for better grazing rotation. We’ll check on the north pasture. Where’d you say you were from?”

  “Texas. Dallas area.”

  “Humph.” Stu crossed a bridge over a narrow section of the river and continued on a trail through the prairie grass.

  He waited for more questions, but Stu didn’t ask any. In fact, he remained silent as they traveled over a ridge, passing a field of tall grass and a small grouping of trees before edging along a creek previously hidden from view. Dylan followed Stu until they climbed another hill, and the rolling pasture spread out before them. Cows—black, brown or tan—and their calves contentedly munched away at the grasses. He and Stu rode along the fence until they reached a gate.

  “There’s a pond beyond the crest. Let’s go have a look-see.” They went through the gate and checked cattle as they made their way to the crest. Stu grew more chatty as they neared the herd. “Had to give the 95 blue tag calf a dose of penicillin yesterday. Doing fine this morning. I lost one calf late April. Hate to lose ’em.”

  Dylan wasn’t sure how to respond. His experience as a teen had been limited to riding the horses and learning how to rope. He and his friend hadn’t joined the cowboys in working with actual cattle.

  “See anything out of the ordinary?” Stu flicked a glance his way.

  He straightened in his saddle, looking out over the herd and prairie. What would be out of the ordinary? He had no idea what was normal and what wasn’t. All he saw were cattle grazing.

  “Looks peaceful to me.” He hoped he wasn’t missing something obvious.

  “Let’s get to the pond, then.”

  Within minutes they’d picked their way over the rockier terrain to the water’s edge. Some of the cattle were lying near it. A few were drinking. All seemed calm.

  Stu skirted the herd and rode toward a stand of trees. “You see that?”

  Dylan peered toward the woods. He saw a black lump moving. “Yeah. Is it a calf?”

  “Yep.” He signaled Diego in that direction. When they reached the trees, Stu motioned Dylan forward. “Get in there and direct him back. I’ll get him back to his mama once you’ve turned him.”

  Dylan’s palms grew clammy, but he nodded. How was he supposed to direct him back? What if the calf got hurt or ran in a different direction? He didn’t know what to do. God, I don’t have any idea how to get this calf out of here. Will You help me?

  Why would God listen to an imposter like him? He had no business being here.

  Maybe he should tell Stu the truth—he had no idea how to make a calf behave. But Stu had already taken off. And the calf was moving deeper into the trees. Dylan couldn’t stand the thought of the little guy getting hurt. There was nothing to do but guide Jethro into the woods slowly, carefully. The calf wasn’t more than fifteen feet away, and the horse seemed to have homed in on the little guy.

  Dylan almost signaled Jethro to get right up on the calf, but the horse clearly had experience with cattle. Jethro seemed to be tracking its movements. Dylan began murmuring to the horse, and to his relief, the closer they got to the calf, the more it appeared whatever the horse was doing was working. The calf slowed.

  He tightened the reins, and Jethro shook his head, then stopped. The calf stopped, too.

  Now what?

  Jethro’s ears pricked, and Dylan took it as sign. “Go on.”

  The horse moved around the calf, causing it to turn. Good. Now he just had to get it out of the woods. He urged Jethro forward, and as soon as he did, the calf took off running in the direction where Stu waited. At the last minute, though, the calf changed direction. Stu snapped into action, cut it off and herded the calf back to the prairie with the rest of the cattle.

  Dylan was sweating. Had he messed up? It had all been going smoothly until the calf got a mind of its own. Maybe he should have taken a different approach. Then the calf would have gone straight to Stu.

  “I’m glad to see you kept your trigger finger under wraps in there,” Stu said. “Last thing I need is a lassoed calf being injured as he’s dragged over branches and stumps.” He stopped Diego and took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his forehead. “Jethro’s a good cutter. He knows what to do around cattle.”

  “I can tell he’s smart.”

  Stu nodded. “We’ll check fence on the way back.”

  A while later they rode back to the stables, took care of the horses and then sat in wrought-iron chairs under the barn’s awning. Dylan’s nerves began to ping-pong. Stu hadn’t asked him any questions about his background or experience beyond wanting to know where he came from.

  Would this be the interview? He couldn’t lie about his experience, but it would be a shame if Stu sent him packing. After spending a few hours out here, he wanted to spend more.

  “We’re moving cattle again on Monday.” Stu’s legs were splayed as he watched Dylan’s response. The toothpick between his teeth was still working.

  He nodded.

  “You can get settled in one of the cabins before then.”

  He tried not to show his surprise. Did this mean he was hired?

  “Payday’s every other Friday. You’re on your own for meals. You have a horse?”

  “Um, no,” Dylan said, his hope rising. “I can get one, though.”

  The toothpick bobbed between Stu’s teeth. “You can ride Jethro. He needs to be working. It hasn’t been good for him with Josiah gone.”

  Josiah must have been the man who died. A pang of sympathy hit him. “I appreciate it.”

  “You know how to operate a tractor?”

  “No, sir.”

  “We’ll be baling hay next month. Could use your help with that.”

  Next month? His conscience dug into his ribs.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town,” he said. The split-rail fences around the corrals, the peeling paint of the barn and the worn, if tidy, appearance of the ranch didn’t escape him. If he had to guess, he’d say Stu couldn’t afford to lose a cent. The man would be better off hiring someone who knew what he was doing. He owed Stu the truth. “I don’t have much ranch experience.”

  “I know.” Stu leaned back, eyeing him.

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “You’ve got good instincts. You know how to ride and you’re strong. You want the job?”

  The compliment speared heat through his chest. Stu thought he had good instincts. There was a first time for everything. His father hadn’t thought so.

  “I do want the job. Are you sure you want to hire me considering I might not stay long?”

  “I was born on this ranch. Been at it sixty-seven years. I’ve seen a lot of restless cowboys. Right now my choice is between you and a couple of fifteen-year-old kids from town. The work’s hard. Hours are long. I’ll take the help as long as you’re willing to stay. But no boozing, no carousing. I’ve got no use for that on my land.”

  “You can count on me.” He’d gotten the job—he was going to be a real cowboy! Satisfaction filled him as he realized he’d be spending his days in the open air on horseback. Moving cattle—he’d have to figure out how to do that—and checking fence and maybe even driving a tractor to bale hay.

  Satisfaction shifted to excitement. “Did you say you have a cabin I can stay in?”

  “Sure do.” Stu stood. “Come on. I’ll take you over there.”

  They walked past the barn down a dirt lane where he could see weathered wood cabins. Most were tiny. One was larger. And a big log structure was tucked behind them.

  “That there used to be the bunkhouse, but about ten years ago, it became more of a meeting place. Two of my ranch hands, J
im and Spud, got married and started families, so they didn’t want to bunk together anymore. They live in town. The two-bedroom house was Josiah’s before he died. He was my right-hand man for thirty years. His wife died of cancer a few years prior.”

  Dylan glanced over at Stu. The toothpick moved up and down quickly, and he could see the stress lines around his mouth. It must have been hard on him losing a trusted friend. Then the man pointed to the smaller cabins. “Steer clear of the one on the end. Critters found their way inside. Haven’t gotten around to getting rid of ’em yet. This one here’s in the best shape. Cade left it clean and tidy before he moved. Got married last month and relocated to Colorado. Why he’d want to live there, I have no idea. Anyway, take your pick.”

  “The one you mentioned is fine.” He wasn’t taking the large cabin, not when he’d only be here a month or so. Plus Stu might hire someone long-term, someone with experience who would rightly expect to live there.

  The rancher pulled out a full keyring. After finding the correct one, he led the way up the path to the small, covered wooden porch and unlocked the cabin door.

  Dylan entered and frowned. His bathroom back in Dallas was bigger than this place. A double bed stood in the corner next to a window. To his right, a row of kitchen cabinets lined the back corner. There was a small stove and a refrigerator, too. A table with two wooden chairs separated the kitchen and the living area, which consisted of an old plaid couch, a rocking chair and an ancient television. Rag rugs covered the wooden floor.

  “Is there a bathroom?” He hated even asking the question. What if the answer was no?

  “Behind the bed.” Stu pointed.

  He opened the door and was pleased to see a full bathroom complete with a tub and shower combination. All original with hard-water stains, but at least they were there.

  “I’ll let you get settled. Take tomorrow off. We meet at the barn at five o’clock sharp Monday morning. If you need me, my house was the one you passed driving in. Here’s my cell number.” Stu told him the number while Dylan entered it into his phone. He then texted him so he’d have his number, too. “Oh, by the way, you’ll want to get some chaps and gloves. If you need an advance, let me know. Rendezvous Outfitters has never let me down.”