Mountain Country Cowboy Read online

  “Since Joey hasn’t had any exposure to horses, I suppose that means you haven’t spent much time with him up until now?”

  “It’s not like we didn’t see each other at all.” She made it sound as if he’d neglected his son. “He was in the care of his mother—spent quite a bit of time with his grandmother. It was almost an eighty-mile round-trip to see him, and I went as often as I could manage.”

  Man, that sounded lame. As if he hadn’t tried hard enough. But he’d been working his fingers to the bone to provide child support, to set aside a nest egg for custody court costs. He’d sometimes driven those many miles only to discover Lorilee or her mother had gone off with Joey and hadn’t bothered to tell him, although they knew he was coming. He’d never had much in the way of established visitation rights, and he hadn’t the money or the time to pursue it when Joey was small. He didn’t get so see much of his son anyway, which is why he’d jumped at this better-paying job to save up for a custody battle, if that’s what it came to, even though Hunter Ridge was a farther distance away.

  Rio tilted that pretty head of hers, her silken hair catching the light. “So what changed?”

  He didn’t want to get into this, but maybe enlightening Rio would show her why it was important that he make a success of this job and balance his time with his son. “His mother got remarried—to a man who doesn’t want anything to do with an ex-husband’s offspring.”

  He didn’t mention this was her third spouse, and that she hadn’t bothered to marry the handful of men she’d taken up with in between.

  Rio’s expression abruptly softened. “Oh, Cash, how could a mother ever...? The poor little guy.”

  Was Joey a poor little guy because a mother and stepfather had cast him out or because he was now stuck living with his biological father?

  “He’s had a rough go of it.” Since the very beginning, no thanks to his inexperienced father and flighty mother.

  “I have to admire you for taking him on after being cut out of the picture for so long.”

  “There’s nothing to admire.” That was an understatement. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “I suppose, though, that’s why—” Her eyes met his almost apologetically.

  “Why what?”

  * * *

  “Why,” Rio said uncertainly, not sure how the wary-looking Cash might take her words, “in the short time you’ve been here I’ve sometimes sensed tension between the two of you.”

  “It’s unfamiliar ground for both of us,” he stated with a defensive edge to his voice. “But don’t go feeling sorry for me. This is an opportunity I’ve dreamed of since his two-timing mother walked out on me when he was two. But I do concede that the timing couldn’t be much worse.”

  Rio winced inwardly. An unfaithful wife? And bad timing for sure, right when he’d taken on a new job.

  “But you can understand now, can’t you,” he continued, “why I’m reluctant to dump my boy off for day care in Hunter Ridge at the crack of dawn each day? Why I’d like him nearby, where I can check on him as time allows, share lunch together, start to build a real relationship?”

  “You’re thinking these months between now and when school starts are critical, aren’t you? Laying a foundation for the rest of your lives.”

  “Exactly.”

  She’d been such an insensitive jerk, letting her suspicions about the man negatively affect a precious boy. Determination welled. “We’ll make this work, Cash. We’ll figure something out until Anna and her friends take over.”

  “When I talked to your mom before lunch, she mentioned she’d be happy to continue to help out. And in spite of Delaney’s advanced stage of pending motherhood, she said she could step in, too.”

  Relief flooded. “So they’ll be taking care of Joey?”

  “Actually—” he offered a wry smile “—I thanked them, then knowing you wouldn’t approve of me enlisting their aid, I turned them down.”

  She gave herself a head slap with the heel of her hand. “I’ll talk to them. Get it straightened out.”

  If the perplexed tenting of his eyebrows was an indication, though, Cash didn’t know what to think of her sudden turnaround.

  “You don’t need to do that. I can call the church. See if Pastor McCrae can recommend a sitter.”

  “No, no. I’ll take care of things here. That way Joey can remain on Hideaway property.”

  “That would be mighty nice.”

  “Okay, then, it’s settled.”

  But Joey’s situation left her unsettled. “That doesn’t address all his issues, though, does it? To establish that father-son relationship, I suggest you start laying the groundwork by building on common interests.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not much into Nintendo or Legos. But I guess I could give it a try.”

  “I was thinking of horses. Starting there.”

  He gave her a look that clearly conveyed his doubt. As in what part of the kid doesn’t like horses don’t you get, lady?

  “Why not, Cash? It’s the perfect starting place.”

  “We have...trust issues to work out. He has what I suspect is buried anger toward me, and forcing him to start riding wouldn’t do a whole lot for that.”

  “Who said anything about forcing? You woo kids, Cash. You get them thinking whatever you want them to do is their idea.”

  A corner of his mouth curved upward. “Kinda how some women manipulate their men?”

  She laughed. “It sounds as if you know the inside secret.”

  “Been on the receiving end more times than not.”

  “Well, it’s the same with kids. Don’t nag. Don’t push. Convince them that what you want them to do is exactly what they want to do—then stand back and let them take the lead.”

  She looked to him hopefully, but clearly he wasn’t buying it. Perceiving the source of his doubts, she hurried on before he could deliver a flat-out no. “It’s true that I don’t have kids of my own, but between my brothers and two older sisters, there are now eight—soon to be nine—nieces and nephews. So I’ve had front-row seats and hands-on practice for effective child-rearing techniques.”

  “I’m not sure...”

  “Come on, Cash.” She folded her arms, her gaze obstinately pinning him. “I’ll even help.”

  * * *

  The following evening as Rio waited for the others to arrive for the weekly family business meeting, she kicked herself for offering to assist Cash with Joey and horses. For suggesting they both start laying the groundwork by reading horse stories to him.

  But, in her defense, her heart had melted when he’d told her the boy’s new stepfather—and his mother—had shoved him out the door. What kind of woman would give up her child like that? And to a man who’d struck her, no less? That kind of put a new spin on Cash’s slugging the woman. Not that there was ever an excuse for such as that. But maybe his “ex” wasn’t entirely the blameless party as Rio originally assumed.

  When Cash had balked at her offer, she’d actually argued him down. Convinced him that introducing Joey to horses—with her assistance—would enhance his relationship with his son.

  Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

  She didn’t need to be spending any more time than necessary with either of them.

  “Earth to Rio.” Grady playfully bumped her arm as he settled into the conference table chair next to her. “Spacing out there, sis?”

  She made a face as she patted the iPad on the table in front of her, filled with meeting preparation notes. “We have a ton of work ahead of us.”

  “And opportunity if we can make a go of it.” He nodded to the spiral notebook and pen he’d placed in front of him. “I’ve been brainstorming myself, but I’m especially interested in hearing what Cash has to share.”

  She refrained from
rolling her eyes.

  “I wouldn’t put too high of an expectation on that. We’ve been running the Hideaway for generations. He’s only worked at an upscale dude ranch for a few years.”

  “Nevertheless, he might bring a fresh perspective to things. Yesterday at lunch it sounded as if he’d been doing his homework.”

  And coming up with more of his know-it-all observations?

  Mere minutes before the meeting was to start, family members filed in to pack the conference room—but Cash managed to snag the chair directly across from her. Great. He nodded to her as he set his hat in the middle of the broad oak table, then opened his laptop. At least he couldn’t criticize the Hideaway’s connectivity. They’d seen to that not long ago when it became clear it was a bottom-line guest expectation.

  Rio’s dad, as head of Hunter Enterprises, had no more than uttered the final amen of an opening prayer when everyone started talking at once. Except her. And Cash, she noted, who appeared to be quietly taking in the chaos.

  “Whoa!” Dave Hunter yelled over the din, bringing the room to a startled silence. A low key kind of guy—Grady compared him to the steady-as-a-rock father on The Waltons TV show reruns—he didn’t often raise his voice. “Time out, folks. Take turns.”

  Cash met her gaze, his eyes now twinkling.

  Of course, Uncle Doug jumped right in with his usual bluster. “In my opinion, what happens between now and when reps from Tallington Associates show up will make or break this enterprise for years, maybe decades, to come.”

  He held up a hand to silence any interruptions. “Now’s not the time to stick our heads in the sand. If what needs to be done calls for major loans, we take out major loans. If it means bringing in outside consultants, architects and contractors, that’s what we’ll do. If it means tearing this place to the ground and building it back up, so be it.”

  All that in the next two months? Besides, what was wrong with keeping things the way they were? Sure, they needed upgrades, but loyal guests had been coming here for years and what appealed to them would appeal to new guests and the events contractor, too, wouldn’t it? Why rock the boat?

  As if sensing her thoughts, Cash gave her a knowing look, and her face heated that he’d caught her looking at him.

  Luke crossed his arms. “Tearing the place down? That’s somewhat extreme, don’t you think, Uncle Doug?”

  The older man slammed his palm on the table. “I think this calls for extreme. Like Cash here, I’ve been checking out Tallington Associates’ website, following links to the event sites they’re promoting. Believe me, we’re light-years behind them. Ain’t that right, Cash?”

  All eyes turned to the cowboy, who warily looked up from his laptop.

  “I can’t pretend to be an expert on the venues I saw featured, Mr. Hunter.” His gaze again flickered to hers. “But a lot depends on the long-term vision for Hunter’s Hideaway. What its mission is now and what it will be going into the future.”

  Spoken like a diplomat.

  “But you agree the other event sites run circles around ours? Like the place you worked at—Cantor Creek.” Uncle Doug smiled, sensing an ally. “Tennis courts and golf courses with pros on staff. Indoor pools. Spas. State-of-the-art conference space. Five-star accommodations. Award-winning chefs.”

  “What I saw featured did appear to be a step above the scope of the Hideaway’s offerings.”

  Only a step? As much as she hated to admit it, Cash was being kind. She’d explored online last night, too, and it was eye-opening.

  Uncle Doug looked around the room. “You heard the man. We’re talking luxury here, folks. I mean, we don’t even have TVs in the cabins, claiming that’s one of the charms of this place. But is it that guests don’t want TVs or are we fooling ourselves like we did for so long with the internet connection business?”

  “Yeah, but—” Luke started, only to be cut off.

  “The way things stand now, we don’t have a chance of getting picked up by Tallington. I can’t imagine why we were contacted in the first place unless they see potential and expect us to step up and deliver.” He pushed back in his chair, satisfied that he’d made his point.

  Grandma Jo, silent throughout as she waited for her second son to run out of steam, nodded to Cash. “Cantor Creek, where you most recently worked, is a prestigious guest ranch. Do you see the Hideaway having the potential to be even remotely comparable?”

  Cash cleared his throat, not meeting Rio’s stare. He knew how she felt about his opinions. “Honestly, ma’am? I don’t think so.”

  Grandma tilted her head. “And that’s because...?”

  “First off—” he looked apologetically to Uncle Doug “—the Hideaway is hours from a major airport or metropolitan area. That’s a major strike against it. Second, this isn’t a working ranch like the popular Arizona venues are with herds of cattle and tens of thousands of acres of western landscape at their disposal, like something right out of an old-time movie.”

  “We’ve never pretended to be that,” Rio said defensively. “We started out as a home-away-from-home for hunters in the early 1900s, then gradually expanded to horsemen and hikers and even runners looking for a high elevation in which to train.”

  “But gathering and moving cattle are big draws at these other places,” he persisted. “Cantor Creek brings in global guests who dream of the Wild West. But despite the thrill of imagining they’re genuine cowboys for a few days, believe me, roughing it isn’t a part of the picture.”

  Uncle Doug, not to be deterred, leaned forward. “We can borrow a few cows, if that’ll make them happy.”

  Rio almost choked.

  Was he serious?

  Chapter Seven

  Cash again caught Rio’s eye and winked, instinctively knowing she wanted no part of her uncle’s over-the-top concept for the Hideaway.

  Or cows.

  Grady, no doubt envisioning the place transformed into something unrecognizable, complete with valet parking, monogrammed robes and rose petal turndown service, offered his two cents. “Since when is there anything wrong with a little roughing it?”

  That’s all it took. They were off again, everyone flinging out opinions and launching into heated conversational asides. The Hunters could really go at it, but an inner prompting advised to keep his mouth shut.

  At the end of two hours, they hadn’t come to a consensus on the direction the Hideaway should take. He imagined that left Rio’s stomach churning, for at the conclusion of the meeting she didn’t linger, but instead stepped briskly out into the starlit night and headed in the direction of the horse facilities.

  “Rio?”

  She halted, impatiently he suspected, waiting for him to catch up. “I have a pregnant mare to check on.”

  “I should check on Brax’s Wild Card, too. She didn’t seem real happy when she got trailered in here this afternoon.”

  He’d gotten the go-ahead to put her in the farthest corner box stall of the building, one with a small adjoining paddock. An empty stall and lot next to her allowed her to see and hear the other horses, but she wouldn’t be able to disturb them.

  Rio moved off in the direction of the main barn again, and he kept in step beside her.

  “Gypsy’s a barrel racer?” He remembered Rio was just getting into that as a kid.

  “Yeah. I got her when I was thirteen. She’s retired now, though. Like me. But we had some good years in the arena.”

  “I noticed the barrel racing sticker in the back window of your truck and the awards in one of the tack rooms. You don’t compete now? Why’s that?”

  “New focus. After stepping away for a few years, I’m going back to college this fall. So I can’t cram one more thing into the summer. Something had to give, and that was it.”

  “Which school are you going to?”
<
br />   “Northern Arizona University.”

  NAU. At the foot of the San Francisco Peaks a few hours from there. “Major?”

  “Counseling.”

  He hadn’t expected that. “I’d have guessed animal husbandry or something along those lines.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, cowboy.” But her accompanying laugh fell short of softening the words delivered too sharply.

  He lightly touched her arm as they entered the barn. “The upcoming visit by this Tallington group has you rattled, doesn’t it?”

  She halted in the dim light. “What makes you think that?”

  “Picked up on it while observing you and your family tonight. Am I right?”

  “I suppose so.” She let out a huff of apparent exasperation. “I don’t like wasting time. Whenever we start working our way toward a compromise, Uncle Doug muddies the waters again. He won’t be satisfied until we have every inch of the property razed and rebuilt from the ground up and a New York City chef installed in a high-rise rooftop gourmet restaurant.”

  “The likelihood of that is slim, given how snow flies here half the year.”

  He sensed that she caught the smile in his voice, recognized he was trying to make her smile, too. And when one at last struggled to the surface, it kicked off an unexpectedly warm thrumming in his heart.

  “Grandma Jo’s long known how her second son gets a wild idea and runs with it. I’m not sure she’s forgiven him for impulsively marrying his first wife and how the repercussions of that divorce impacted the family. It even deprived her of a grandson when his departing ex got sole custody. Now he sees this as an opportunity to throw his weight around. Kick up dust. Try to wrest the primary decision making away from Dad.”

  “He can’t do that, though, can he? Not without the rest of you agreeing.”

  “I suppose. But you were there—he’s swaying opinions. Votes. We need a solid direction, Cash. We need to decide where our investment of time and money will be made. We can’t go running off in different directions and expect to gain the blessing of Tallington Associates.”