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The Comeback Cowboy
Cathy McDavid


It isn't easy for a man to get back in the saddle after he's lost his competitive edge. But fallen rodeo star Ty Boudeau refuses to give up his shot at the World Championship. Even if it means taking lessons at a glorified dude ranch from a woman who can rope a steer better than a man. As owner of Cowboy College, Adele Donnelly makes it a rule never to get involved with her guests. Especially not a famous and footloose cowboy whose life is all about traveling the rodeo circuit.But Ty is more than just another handsome faceand getting pregnant with his baby wasn't in Adele's long-term game plan. Because men like him can't be tied down. And she's not used to family sticking around. Why should Ty be any different? Should she give the cowboy a chance to be a championship daddy?









He must have sensed her approach for he suddenly turned


When their gazes connected, his eyes lit, then turned dark and smoldering. The small thrill became a rushing river of awareness. All at once, Adele knew why Ty had called her to meet him and what he wanted. She didn’t hesitate going to him.

Dropping the reins, he came forward. Luckily, Hamm was placid by nature outside the arena because another horse might have spooked when Adele flung herself into Ty’s open arms.

“I’ve been waiting a week for this,” he said as his mouth came down on hers.

Only a week? It felt to Adele as if she’d been waiting forever. For this kiss. This moment. This man.




Dear Reader,

While researching rodeos and calf roping for my previous book, Dusty: Wild Cowboy, I spent a fair amount of time at local arenas watching amateur ropers practice and compete. At each visit to the arena, I was surprised at the number of young women participating. Roping is a tough and rugged sport, requiring strength and agility as well as considerable skill.

I couldn’t help but admire these women who frequently competed against men twice their size. As a writer, my imagination soared. I easily envisioned one of these spunky and determined cowgirls as the heroine of my next book. It was soon after that the idea for The Comeback Cowboy was born. In the story, I match Adele Donnelly, an accomplished amateur woman roper, with Ty Boudeau, a professional roper and contender for the next World Championship title.

I just love the notion of an amateur woman teaching a professional man “the ropes,” so to speak. I hope you do, too.

Warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid

P.S. I enjoy hearing from readers. Visit my website at www.cathymcdavid.com for updates on my next series and to drop me a line.




The Comeback Cowboy

Cathy McDavid










ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Cathy makes her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains where hawks fly overhead, javelina traipse across her front yard and mountain lions occasionally come calling. She embraced the country life at an early age, acquiring her first horse in eighth grade. Dozens of horses followed through the years, along with mules, an obscenely fat donkey, chickens, ducks, goats and a pot-bellied pig who had her own swimming pool. Nowadays, two spoiled dogs and two spoiled-er cats round out the McDavid pets. Cathy loves contemporary and historical ranch stories and often incorporates her own experiences into her books.

When not writing, she, her family and friends spend as much time as they can at her cabin in the small town of Young. Of course, she takes her laptop with her on the chance inspiration strikes.


To Libby and Connie. I always knew you would make great critique partners. What I didn’t know was how much your friendship would enrich my life.

Thank you for making the last ten years not just a journey but an adventure. I love you both.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen




Chapter One


Welcome to Seven Cedars Ranch, Home of Cowboy College.

He sat immobile, staring at the large sign with its horse-head logo, his jaw tightly clenched.

Up until the moment he drove through the main gate, he’d been able to deny how really low he’d sunk in the last six months and how really far he’d have to climb to get back on top.

No more. The time to man up had officially arrived.

He reached for the door handle on his pickup—only to have it abruptly wrenched open. Startled, he turned to look into the face of a kid no older than eighteen or nineteen.

“Welcome, Mr. Boudeau. We’ve been expecting you.” The kid waited, a gosh-I-can’t-believe-it’s-you grin plastered across his freckled face.

“The name’s Ty.” He removed the keys from the ignition and climbed out.

“A real pleasure to meet you, Ty.” They shook hands. “Folks ’round here call me Stick.” The kid stepped back, and Ty could immediately see how he’d earned the nickname. Stick could get lost standing behind a flagpole. “Right this way. Adele’s waiting for you.”

Ty hesitated, the doubts he’d successfully kept at bay during the four-hour drive across Wyoming gaining ground. He needed help, that was a fact. But from a woman? One who made a living instructing amateurs at a glorified dude ranch. For a professional tie-down and team roper like himself, the idea was ludicrous. Certainly not “genius,” as his younger sister had professed.

And yet he’d come.

“Okay to leave the truck parked here?” His Ford F350 dually and horse trailer blocked all six of the available spaces in front of the rustic two-story lodge.

“No problem.”

Being a minor celebrity, even an undeserving one, had its privileges, he supposed.

Grabbing his wallet, Ty followed Stick up a stone-lined walkway, across a sprawling porch and through the front entrance of the lodge. With each thunk of his boots on the hardwood floor, his gut clenched tighter. This place was his last-ditch effort. If it, and Adele Donnelly, couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong, then he might as well kiss his roping career goodbye.

“Here’s the main lobby and that way is the business center,” Stick informed him as they crossed the spacious room with its vaulted ceilings and pine beams. Ten-foot-high windows looked out onto rolling green grounds dotted with thick stands of trees. “The front desk is where you check in and out, get the weekly schedules, sign up for classes.” He shot Ty a guilty look over his shoulder. “Not that you need any.”

“You never know.” He definitely needed something.

“There’s a lounge with a TV over there for guests.” Stick pointed. “It’s got satellite.”

“Oh, good. Can’t miss my daily dose of CNN.”

His attempt at sarcasm went right over Stick’s head, who didn’t stop talking long enough to take a breath.

“The dining hall’s that way. Breakfast is served from five-thirty to seven, lunch from eleven-thirty to one and dinner from six to seven-thirty. Social hour starts at five. ’Course, if you’re hungry, Cook’s always got a pot of stew or chili on the stove.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Ty didn’t anticipate doing much socializing during his four-week stay. He was here to rope. Though competent in other rodeo events, steer wrestling and team roping mostly, tie-down roping was what he excelled at. Make that had excelled at. Everything had changed last December.

Stick escorted him to a long counter resembling a hotel registration desk, only on a much simpler scale. “You in there, Adele?” he called.

Ty caught a glimpse of a desk with a phone and computer through the open door behind the counter.

When no one answered, Stick tapped the bell on the counter. It promptly dinged. “Huh.” He pushed his cowboy hat back, revealing a shock of red hair, and scratched his forehead. “Guess she’s not here.”

“We can come back,” Ty offered, in no hurry to meet the owner and manager of Cowboy College.

In the next instant, he mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t come all this way to chicken out at the last minute.

“But we have to get the key to your guest cabin. How else you gonna unpack your stuff?”

“It’ll wait,” Ty assured him. The poor kid was trying so hard and deserved a break. “How ’bout we head to the barn and unload my horse. Maybe Adele will show up by the time we’re done.”

Stick immediately brightened. “Sure thing,” he said, only it sounded more like “shore” thing.

Back outside, they hopped in Ty’s truck, and Stick directed him down the dirt road to a row of three barns. Across the open area in front of them was a large arena complete with holding pens, boxes, chutes, bleachers and an announcer’s stand. A handful of riders were honing their roping skills with the help of some wranglers. Situated behind the barns were two smaller arenas, a pair of round pens, and endless acres of fenced pastures in which dozens of horses grazed on fresh spring grass. About a half mile beyond that, at the base of a valley, afternoon sunlight glinted off a large pond.

“How’s the fishing?” Ty asked.

“Plenty of bass and bluegills. But if you’re hankering for some serious fly-fishing, Little Twister Creek’s the place to go. It’s not far, about a mile or two from here. My cousin and I go every chance we get.”

“You up for some company sometime?”

Stick’s face exploded into a huge grin. “Just name the day.” As they approached the row of barns, he indicated the largest one. “Here we are.”

Ty pulled up in front of an old-fashioned hitching post and parked. His horse, Hamm, greeted him with a shrill whinny and a bang on the trailer sidewall when he went around the back and unlatched the gate. Eager to be free after the long drive, the large gelding piled out of the trailer. Once on solid ground, he raised his head high, took in his new surroundings and whinnied again. Mares with young foals in the far pasture ran to the fence for a closer look at the newcomer.

“He’s a beaut!” Stick gazed at Hamm admiringly.

“That he is.” Holding on to the lead rope with one hand, Ty patted the horse’s neck. Plain old sorrel didn’t begin to describe Hamm. With four perfectly matched white stockings and a three-inch-wide blaze running down the entire length of his face, he was striking.

“Bet he can chase calves down like lightning streakin’ across a meadow.”

“He’s fast all right.” Ty didn’t elaborate. His problem, the reason he’d come to Cowboy College, had nothing to do with Hamm and everything to do with him.

“This way.” Stick started toward the barn opening. After several steps, he turned, gave Ty’s horse another adoring once-over and whistled low. “That big boy can sure walk out.”

The barn housed at least forty horses. Every one of them charged to the door of their stall and hung their head out to observe the visitors. A few of the braver ones stretched their neck out to either sniff Hamm or give his rump a quick nip. Ty assumed some of the horses belonged to Cowboy College and the rest to guests like himself.

Midway down the aisle, Stick stopped and opened the door of an empty stall. “Here you go.”

Being accustomed to traveling, Hamm entered his new quarters without balking. He quickly inspected the stall’s perimeter, then buried his head in the feed trough. It was empty, and a second later his head shot up in obvious displeasure.

Given it was late afternoon, Ty supposed the stable hands would be feeding soon. Still, he asked, “You got a little grain or pellets we can give him until I go over his diet with the barn manager?” Hamm liked to eat, and a snack would help him adjust to his new surroundings.

“Be right back.” Stick took off and promptly returned with a small bucket of oats.

Fifteen minutes later Ty and Stick were parking his trailer behind the barn. When they were done, Ty pulled his truck around front.

Stick sat forward in the passenger seat. “There’s Adele.” He hitched his chin toward the arena. “Come on, you can meet her.”

Horses and their riders had gathered at the south end of the arena. Ty picked out a trim young woman astride a stout paint mare, a blond braid snaking down her back from beneath her battered cowboy hat. Despite the distance, he recognized her immediately. No surprise; he’d been staring at pictures of her on Cowboy College’s website for weeks while deciding to come or not.

“She looks busy.”

“Naw.” Stick dismissed his concern with a wave. “She won’t mind.”

They selected a spot along the fence and settled in to watch, their forearms resting on the top rail.

“Hey, folks.”

Stick’s friendly greeting was returned by all except Adele. She was preoccupied with lining her horse up in the box. The mare, obviously new at tie-down roping, didn’t like being enclosed in such a cramped space. She danced nervously, snorting and pulling on the bit. With firm hands and a honeyed voice, Adele brought the animal under control.

“Good girl.” She placed the pigging string in her mouth, checked her rope and shifted in the saddle. Ty knew she would cue the wrangler manning the chute only when she and the horse were completely ready. That moment came a second later.

“Go!”

The wrangler slid open the gate, and the calf bolted for freedom, running in a straight line away from the chute. Adele’s horse might not have much experience, but its instincts were right on the money. The mare exploded from the box at a full gallop, following the calf with the persistence of a heat-seeking missile. Adele’s arm came up. In the next instant, she threw her rope. The noose landed right where it should, squarely on the calf’s horns, and she leaped from the saddle even before the mare had come to a complete stop.

Ty watched, completely captivated as she raced to the calf and dropped it effortlessly to the ground, securing its legs with the pigging string. She worked efficiently, not a single motion 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.”

“Mr. Donnelly.” Ty’s glance fell for the briefest of seconds on Pop’s hand before clasping it in a firm shake. “It’s a real honor to meet you, sir.”

Adele liked that Ty didn’t appear put off by her grandfather’s missing right thumb, a casualty of a roping accident that had happened long before she was born.

“The honor’s mine,” Pop said. “I’ve been watching your career since you were competing in junior rodeo.”

“And I’ve studied yours.”

“You have to go back a lot of years for that.” Pop laughed, but it was filled with warmth.

“I’m counting on you teaching me a thing or two while I’m here. It’s one of the reasons I came.”

Pop stood a little taller. Most of their guests were recreationists and wannabe cowboys. Some were high-school students hoping to eventually compete on the professional rodeo circuit. Almost none of them knew about her grandfather’s once impressive and long-ago rodeo career. Not until they got here and saw the photos and framed buckles on the lobby wall.

“I doubt there’s anything I can teach you.” Pop chortled. “Now Adele here, she’s likely to have a trick or two up her sleeve you can use.”

“I saw her earlier at the arena,” Ty said. “She’s good.”

“She’s the best in the state, man or woman.” Pop’s voice rang with pride.

Adele loved her grandfather, but at the moment she wanted to cringe. “Mr. Boudeau is one of the best in the world, Pop.”

“Doesn’t mean he can’t learn a thing or two from you.”

“I agree.” Ty answered good-naturedly. “Getting help, from both of you, is the reason I’m here.”

Adele wondered if he’d added the “from both of you” for her grandfather’s sake, considering how hesitantly the words had rolled off his tongue.

“Pop, why don’t you show Mr. Boudeau to his cabin? You two can swap stories on the ride.”

“Nothing I’d like better. Except I’m due to meet the boys in thirty minutes.”

His regular Thursday-night poker game. She’d forgotten about that. “I’ll call Stick.”

“Adele, maybe you can take me?” One corner of Ty’s mouth lifted in a grin. A very potent grin. “I’d be much obliged.”

“Certainly.”

“Good,” Pop said, with more satisfaction than the situation called for. “That’s settled, then.”

As Adele left the lodge with Ty, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her grandfather had set her up. She should be mad at him, but when she hopped onto the truck seat next to Ty, being mad was the furthest thing from her mind.



TY SLANTED A GLANCE AT Adele, wondering what she was thinking. They’d both been relatively quiet during the five-minute drive through the main part of the ranch, except for the occasional item of interest she pointed out.

“Is this my home away from home?” he asked when she directed him to an attractive cabin atop a rise.

“Yes.” She removed an old-fashioned hotel key from her pocket. No key cards for Cowboy College. “You’ll love the view from the back patio.”

They climbed out of the truck, and Adele led him along a split-fence-lined walkway to the front porch. Unlocking the cabin door, she swung it wide, and went ahead only when he indicated for her to precede him inside.

Ty took in the cabin’s spacious and charmingly appointed interior, which appeared to have every amenity he could possibly want. “Very nice.”

“If you aren’t happy here, we can always move you to a different cabin.”

“Are you kidding? This is great.”

“It’s a little far from the barn and arena.” Adele walked over to the drapes on the other side of the living room and opened them, revealing a sliding glass door that looked out onto a calendar-perfect view of the nearby pond and distant mountains.

He joined her at the door and scanned the horizon. A glorious red sun was starting to dip behind one of the mountain peaks.

“It’s worth the extra distance just for this.”

Adele eased away from him, piquing his interest. Women generally acted the opposite, hanging all over him if possible. It was either a hazard or a perk of his profession, depending on a guy’s perspective. Ty mostly found it wearisome. Except in Adele’s case. Sharing the same air space with her had definitely been enjoyable.

Apparently not so much for her.

“There are two bedrooms,” she said, walking past the fully equipped kitchenette. “The master and a small guest room. The couch also folds out into a bed. Your rental agreement allows for overnight guests up to three consecutive nights, but you have to report them.”

“Dana will be glad to hear that.” Was it his imagination or did a glint of curiosity flash in Adele’s eyes? “My little sister’s been bugging me to come here and take lessons from you.”

“Oh, really? We’d love to have her,” Adele said, so smoothly that Ty figured he’d been mistaken.

Perhaps because she was so different from the women he usually met, or that she was a roper like himself, he found himself trusting her. Enough to reveal the real reason he’d come to Cowboy College.

He hadn’t expected he would, the idea of enrolling in a roping school for amateurs being hard to swallow. Taking instructions from a woman made it worse. But she’d impressed him in the arena, demonstrating a core of steel.

Like the one he had lost.

“It’s not just my horse,” he said abruptly. “It’s me.”

“What?” She turned to face him, her expression puzzled.

He cleared his throat, freeing the words stuck in it. “The horse I’d been riding the past four years suffered a fractured metacarpal last December in a fall. Right before the National Finals Rodeo. I was ranked second at the time.”

“I know, I read about it in Roper Sports News.”

“I lost more than a gold buckle and a title that day. Iron Grip Ropes had signed me for a sponsorship deal. A very lucrative sponsorship deal.”

“Which was contingent on you winning,” she correctly guessed.

“I competed on a friend’s horse, but lost the championship by one-point-eight seconds.” Ty swallowed. Six months later, the bitter defeat still stung. “I bought Hamm in February after an extensive search. He’s an incredible horse. Big, athletic, strong, fast and smart as a whip. Everything I could want.” Ty paused.

“What’s wrong, then?”

“That one-point-eight seconds. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I train, whatever trick I try, I can’t seem to perform any better on Hamm than I did on my friend’s horse. And I don’t know why.”

“Sometimes the partnership between a rider and horse is off.”

“I’m hoping that’s all it is. Because the alternative, that I’ve somehow lost my competitive edge…well, let’s just say it’s not acceptable.”

He went to Adele and took her hand in his. The calluses on her palm from years of roping were in stark contrast to the silky smooth skin on the back of her hand. Like her, he thought—tough on one side, soft on the other.

“This isn’t easy for me to ask, Adele. But I need your help.”

She gazed at their joined hands for several seconds, then lifted her eyes to his. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Because the Buffalo Bill Cody Stampede Rodeo is less than four weeks away, and I have to win.”




Chapter Two


Adele stood with Pop on the fence beside the chute and watched Ty position his horse in the roping box. People who weren’t involved in rodeoing had no idea how many hours were spent training for the sport by studying others from the sidelines.

“What do you think?” Pop asked.

“Good-looking horse.”

“Real nice looking.”

So was the rider, but Adele kept that opinion to herself. Ty sat tall in the saddle, his Stetson angled low over his eyes, his Western cut shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders. She wondered if he’d object to having his picture taken for their next website updates.

Almost immediately, she changed her mind. Ty had come to Cowboy College because of a problem, one he hoped to correct. It would be thoughtless and insensitive of her to take advantage of his misfortune in order to advance the ranch.

Ready at last, Ty signaled the wrangler, who pulled back the gate on the chute and released the calf. Ty’s run, over in the span of a few heartbeats, was a good one. Not, however, spectacular. And spectacular runs were needed to win World championships.

“What do you think his problem is?” Adele asked her grandfather as Ty exited the arena.

“Not saying yet.” Pop waved to Ty and pointed at the box, indicating for him to take another run.

Ty’s admiration of her grandfather yesterday afternoon wasn’t unfounded. Pop had been National tie-down roping champion for three years straight in the late 1950s, and again in 1963, before permanently retiring. Granted, things were done a little differently in those days, but the basic sport had remained the same.

One aspect not the same was the popularity of tie-down roping. That had grown tremendously in recent years, especially among amateurs. Not only did horse people with an interest in roping participate, so did thrill-seekers looking to try something new, urbanites wanting to experience the cowboy life, and even companies offering team-building retreats for their employees.

The increase in popularity was what had given Adele the idea to start Cowboy College. Her business savvy combined with her grandfather’s experience made a winning combination. Together they’d turned a run-down ranch into a thriving enterprise.

Seven Cedars hadn’t always been in trouble. For three decades after her grandparents bought the place, they’d run a modestly successful cattle business. Then, during Adele’s junior year at university, her grandmother had died unexpectedly from an aneurysm. Pop sank into grief, letting the ranch go. Adele’s father wasn’t able to leave his job and move his second family from Texas to tend the ranch. Until Adele arrived after graduation, no one realized how bad the situation at Seven Cedars, and Pop’s depression, had gotten.

Cowboy College not only breathed new life into the ranch, it gave her grandfather a purpose again. Within a year, they’d opened their doors, and had grown steadily in the six years since. Guests came from all over the country now, spending anywhere from a long weekend to weeks on end.

Ty Boudeau, however, was their first ever professional roper.

His horse, Hamm, lined up in the box with only the smallest amount of urging. “Go!” he shouted. As on the first run, the wrangler released the calf and Ty successfully roped it in a respectable time.

“He could do this all day and it wouldn’t be any different,” Adele commented.

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Pop rolled the toothpick stuck in his mouth from one side to the other. He was rarely without one since giving up chewing tobacco years earlier. Another of his doctor’s mandates.

“The horse isn’t taking one wrong step,” Adele commented, “and Ty’s doing exactly what he should be doing.”

“But the magic just isn’t happening.”

“Could his problem be lack of confidence?”

Pop shrugged. “Possibly. Losing a world championship when you’re as close as he was could set anyone back.”

“Except Ty doesn’t strike me as lacking confidence.” In or out of the arena, thought Adele.

But then, he’d lost much more than the championship. Sponsorship deals, good ones, didn’t grow on trees, and had launched more than one athlete on a successful post-competing career.

“You never know,” Pop mused out loud. “He could be putting on a good front. My guess is it’s the horse.”

Adele shot her grandfather a sideways look. “You just agreed Hamm’s a nice horse.”

“But he isn’t Ty’s other horse. Don’t get me wrong. The boy was always a good roper, one to watch since he began competing in junior rodeo. He didn’t come on strong until four years ago, when he got that horse. It was a perfect partnership. Now he’s lost that partner.”

“I think Hamm has the potential to be every bit as good as Ty’s other horse.”

“Maybe even better.”

Adele nodded in agreement. “He just has to realize that.”

“I’m thinking he already does.” Pop’s expression became pensive. “Recovering from a loss isn’t easy, be it someone you’ve loved or a dream you’ve held. Something inside dies. There’s no miracle cure and no set timetable for recovery. Ty will come back when he’s ready.” Pop turned a fond smile on Adele. “Or when someone shows him the way.”

She patted his hand in return, recalling their early days of Cowboy College. “You could be right.”

Stepping off the fence, she pushed a damp strand of hair off her face. The temperature might be only in the low seventies, but the bright morning sun beat down on them, warming her through and through. “If he were anyone else but Ty Boudeau, I’d recommend the beginners’ class. The best way to get to know your horse is by starting with the basics.”

Pop also stepped off the fence. “Why not Ty?”

“He’s…one of the best ropers out there. He doesn’t need a beginners’ class.”

“Are you sure? Could be just the ticket.”

“He’ll laugh in our faces, then pack his bags.”

“He won’t laugh if he’s committed.” Pop moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “And Ty strikes me as a man with a mission.”

“Excuse me for disagreeing.”

“Relax, Dellie. You know it’s a good idea. Ty Boudeau has everything it takes to be the next World Champion. And when he is, he’s gonna be thanking you and me.”

“Okay,” she grumbled. “But I’m not going to be the one to tell him he has to take the beginners’ class. You are.”



“ISN’T THIS PLACE great? My husband and I arrived just a few days ago. We’ve never been here before. Have you?”

The woman astride the horse standing beside Ty had been rambling nonstop for five minutes solid, not caring if he answered her question or not before going on to the next one.

It was different being around people who didn’t recognize him. Different and unsettling. When had he become so accustomed to the attention?

“How’d you get into roping? My husband rodeoed some when he was growing up. We saw a show on cable TV about couples roping, and decided to give it a try. And now we’re hooked. Me, not so much.”

The woman paused to take a breath. Ty used the lull to observe Adele.

She stood on the ground giving instructions to the group, which was comprised of about a dozen beginner ropers. Ty only half listened. He was quite familiar with the training technique she described—a fake calf head attached to a bale of hay and pulled by a wrangler driving an ATV. The group had assembled in one of the smaller arenas beside the barn, away from the ropers practicing in the main arena, in case the ATV spooked their horses.

“I can’t believe I’m actually taking a roping class.” The woman untangled her reins for the third time.

“Me, either.”

When Pop had proposed the idea that Ty participate in the afternoon beginners’ class, he’d balked. Then he learned Adele would be teaching it. That, and the arguments Pop had presented about getting back to basics, convinced Ty to give one—and only one—class a try. He told himself it wasn’t because he found Adele attractive. Rather, he wanted to see if she could teach as well as she roped. His decision to remain at Cowboy College depended on the outcome.

She continued explaining how the wrangler would take off on the ATV, and that the riders should allow their horses to follow the calf head and bale of hay, rather than attempt to direct them. Yeah, yeah. Ty suppressed a yawn.

His cell phone rang a minute later, coming just when he thought he’d reached his boredom threshold. Unclipping the phone from his belt, he checked the screen. A photo of his younger sister appeared with her name above it.

“Sorry, I need to take this call,” he told the students nearest him, and nudged Hamm into a fast walk away from the group. Stopping about twenty feet away, he answered the call. “Hey, Dana.”

From his chosen spot, he could see Adele frowning at him. Too late, Ty realized there was probably something in the rules and regulations he hadn’t yet read about no cell-phone calls during class. Oh, well, he’d already screwed up.

“How’s it going, bro?”

“Not so great.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sitting here in a beginners’ class.”

“Really! Doing what? Showing the students how it’s done?”

“No, attending. Actually, attending as little as possible.”

“I guess a refresher course never hurts.”

He should have figured Dana would agree with Pop’s suggestion, being it was her idea to come to Cowboy College.

“Right. I could be doing this in my sleep.”

“So prove it.”

“You’re not serious.” He laughed.

“I am, Ty. You need to figure out what’s not working, and fix it. Taking a beginner class might seem ridiculous, but you need a new perspective, and I’m all for trying anything. You should be, too, if you want to win that championship.”

Ty tamped down his rising annoyance. It had been a long time since anyone had lectured him. A long time since he’d felt he deserved a lecture.

A quick glance at Adele confirmed yet another talking-to might be in store for him. She looked about as happy with him as his sister sounded.

“This isn’t easy for me, Dana.” The admission came with an uncomfortable tightening in his gut.

“I know, honey. But I’m one of the people who has your back, remember?”

“And I appreciate it.”

“You couldn’t have two better experts there.”

“I agree with you about Pop Donnelly. And I wouldn’t mind half so much if he was teaching the class.”

“What’s wrong with Adele Donnelly?”

There was nothing wrong with her that Ty could see. It was his ego having the problem. Granted, he’d asked for her help yesterday, but that was in a weak moment. This morning, when he’d faced himself in the bathroom mirror, he wished he’d asked Pop for help instead.

It wasn’t too late. He’d get through this one class and seek out the older man. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like so much of a loser. Or have an entire group of people witnessing his shame.

“You practice with a woman roper,” Dana prompted.

“It’s different with you.”

“Because I’m not competing against you in the same sport?”

“Yikes.” Ty grimaced. “That smarts.”

“Give Adele a chance before you hightail it out of there.”

How did his sister know he’d been contemplating leaving? “Fine. I promise to stay another couple days.”

“You said a month.” Her tone dared him to defy her.

“Okay, okay. You win.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” They disconnected after saying goodbye.

Ty silenced his cell phone and walked Hamm over to the group, smiling apologetically to his classmates and Adele, who blatantly ignored him. All right, he deserved that. Leaning forward and propping a forearm on the saddle horn, he made an effort to really listen to her. After several minutes passed, he had to agree she knew her stuff. She certainly had the attention of all the students.

“Are we ready to try? Who wants to go first?”

Hands shot into the air, none of them Ty’s.

“All right, how about you, Mike?” She picked the husband of the woman Ty’d been talking to earlier.

He sat quietly on Hamm, watching Mike and the others take their turns one by one. He easily and quickly spotted the errors with each student. Adele did, too, and patiently explained it to them in laymen’s terms the students could comprehend. When everyone had done it, Adele’s gaze landed on him.

“You’re up next, Ty.”

He moved into position behind the bale of hay. Hamm pawed the ground, far more eager to get started than his owner.

“Wait. We’re going to do this a little differently with you. Put up your rope.”

“My rope?”

“Then drop your reins and kick your feet out of the stirrups.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No hands, no legs.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You don’t think you can stay seated?” Her green eyes flashed up at him.

He attached his lasso to his saddle with the rope strap. “Ma’am, I can break a green horse riding bareback and with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Then this should be a cakewalk for you.” She stepped away from him.

With a shrug of his shoulders, his hands resting on his thighs and his legs dangling, he waited for the wrangler to take off on the ATV.

“One more thing,” Adele said, the lowered brim of her cowboy hat partially hiding her face. “You have to do it with your eyes closed.”

“Excuse me?”

“Eyes closed, Mr. Boudeau.”

Was she smiling?

Ty decided to go along with her rather than put up a fight. He’d promised Dana, and besides, the students might learn something from watching him.

“Go!” he told the wrangler.

Hamm took off after the bale of hay as if it were the real thing. Because the wrangler didn’t drive the ATV very fast, Hamm’s gait was an easy lope rather than a full-out gallop, as it would be in the arena.

Ty set down deep in the saddle, adjusting himself to the horse’s rhythm. Trying to, he amended. It wasn’t as easy as he might have guessed. Not with his eyes closed and his legs dangling. As the driver zigzagged, mimicking the course a calf might take, Ty felt—really felt—the nuances of Hamm’s muscles bunching and releasing when he changed directions. Ty shifted accordingly, to compensate for the horse’s movements, thinking about it rather than doing it instinctively as he should.

After thirty feet, the wrangler slowed to a stop. Hamm also slowed. Opening his eyes, Ty used the pressure of his legs to guide his horse in a circle and back toward the group. Once there, he stopped and rubbed his neck, contemplating what had just happened.

“You look perplexed,” Adele said, studying him.

“Not that so much,” he answered.

She’d put him through a very basic exercise, one, he realized in hindsight, he should have tried himself. Perhaps if he had, the results wouldn’t be quite so startling.

Ty trusted himself as a rider. What he’d learned today was that he didn’t trust Hamm. Not entirely and not enough. His other horse’s accident had robbed Ty of that vital component to a successful rider-horse partnership, and the tiny fear that it would happen again was causing him to hold back.

“Ty?” Adele asked.

He grinned suddenly and waved to the wrangler to come back around.

“I want to go again.”



“HEY, ADELE, hold on a minute.”

Hearing her name, she stopped and turned to see Ty hurrying after her. Uh-oh. He was probably annoyed at her for what she’d pulled on him during class earlier. Squaring her shoulders, she waited for him to catch up, committed to defending her actions.

“Can I help you with something?” She smiled, pretending she didn’t notice the Ben Affleck–like perfection of Ty’s strong, dimpled chin or the fluttering in her middle that ogling his chin caused. “Perhaps a copy of the rules and regulations you obviously lost.”

“I guess I deserve that.” He returned her smile with a healthy dose of chagrin. “No more phone calls. You have my word.”

She was glad to see he didn’t take offense at her more-serious-than-humorous jest. Rules were rules, in place for a reason, and Ty Boudeau didn’t get to break them just because he was a professional roper.

“You’re allowed one mistake before we start giving demerits. Ten demerits, however, and you’re kicked off the ranch.”

His startled expression was so comical, she almost laughed. “I’m joking.”

The hint of a twinkle lit his eyes. “You’re good, you know.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice keeping unruly students in line.”

“No denying I’m one of those unruly students in need of lining out, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

“You’re good at spotting what a person’s doing wrong. Me included.”

She knitted her brows in confusion. “I didn’t notice you doing anything wrong.”

“Maybe not exactly. But the exercise helped me understand some things about myself. Things that need fixing.”

“Not many competitors at your level would admit to that. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. I’m usually thickheaded. A good suggestion could be driving a Mack truck straight at me, and I’d ignore it.”

“I’ll remember that next time.”

He moved closer. “I just wanted was to thank you for the help.”

“You’re welcome.” She worried that he was going to take her hand again. Relief flooded her when he didn’t. One intimate encounter was more than she could handle. “Have a productive remainder of your day, Mr. Boudeau.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to pick your brain sometime when you have a minute.”

She debated refusing his request. In the end, she decided to grant it. He was a paying guest, after all, and part of the fees they charged entitled students to “pick her brain,” as he said.

“I’m heading over to check on one of our expectant mares. You can come with me if you like.”

His dark eyes, arresting to begin with, lit up. “I would.”

“I’m not keeping you from anything important, am I?”

He fell step in beside her. “Only the horde of adoring female fans waiting for me in the lobby.”

She momentarily faltered. “If you have to go…”

“I’m kidding.” He flashed her his heart-stopping grin.

It appeared she was just as gullible as him.

He surprised her during their walk with the questions he asked, which were detailed and thought provoking. Did tie-down straps really help horses stop faster, or hinder them? How did she feel about the new Professional Cowboy Association regulations, and did they affect her teaching methods? What kind of personal fitness regime, if any, did she recommend for her students?

More than once, Adele found herself examining the techniques of roping from a different and enlightening perspective.

“Here’s where Pop and I keep our private stock,” she told Ty when they entered the smallest of the ranch’s three barns. At the end of the aisle, they came to a double-wide stall separated from the other horses by twenty feet and a six-foot wall.

“And this is Crackers,” Adele said by way of introduction.

Upon seeing her, the heavily pregnant mare nickered softly and lumbered over from the corner where she’d been standing, to hang her shaggy head over the stall door.

Adele stroked the animal’s neck. “She was my first barrel-racing horse. Gosh, was that really fourteen years ago?”

“Did you compete professionally?” Ty asked. He stood beside her, his elbow propped on the stall door.

“A little in college.”

“Any good?”

“All right.”

“Why’d you quit?”

She absently combed her fingers through Crackers’s mane. “I came here after graduation to help Pop with the ranch. He’d turned seventy, and his arthritis was getting bad. He needed help, and I needed a job.” She didn’t mention her grandmother’s death. “I’ve always loved Seven Cedars, and spent a lot of time here when I was growing up.”

“Did your parents rodeo?”

“My dad. Though he never did all that well, and moved to Texas years ago. My mom traveled the rodeo circuit considerably longer than Dad, but not to compete.”

Adele didn’t elaborate. Despite Ty’s friendliness, she wasn’t ready to confess that her mother had taken up with whatever cowboy would have her, dropping Adele off with her grandparents if her father wouldn’t have her. As her mother aged and her looks faded, those cowboys went from being competitors to bullfighters to stock handlers. In between men, she’d find a small place to rent for herself and Adele, but only until another man came along. For a young girl feeling unloved and unwanted, Seven Cedars became a haven in an otherwise turbulent childhood.

“So, Pop taught you to rope.”

“He was a man ahead of his time. In those days, women didn’t rope. Period.” She opened the stall door and went in to give Crackers a closer inspection.

“She looks close,” Ty observed.

“Soon.” The foal had dropped considerably in the last week, but otherwise, Crackers showed no signs of delivering. “She’s due this week.”

“Her first?”

“Second. Up until a few years ago, we used her steadily for beginner students. When her stamina began to fade, we decided to breed her.” Adele patted Crackers’s rump, then left the stall and shut the door behind her. “She’s got good lines, and she’s a good mama.”

“And she’s your first horse.”

“Pop bought her for me when I was a freshman in high school. There were always plenty of horses to ride wherever I lived, but she was the first one that was truly mine.” Latching the stall door, she met Ty’s gaze. “Cook will be serving dinner soon, and I need to get back to my office first.”

“Will I see you in the dining hall?”

“Absolutely.”

Adele made a point of sharing dinner each evening with the students, often moving from one table to another. That way, she got to know them on a more personal level. Breakfast and lunch, however, were hit-or-miss and often consumed on the run.

At the entrance to the barn, she and Ty separated, each heading to their own vehicle. Hers was parked closer, and she hesitated before climbing in, stilled by the sight of Ty striding to his truck.

It had been a very long time since Adele had met a man who gave her that uncomfortable yet deliciously thrilling feeling every time she got within ten feet of him.

She silently warned herself to proceed with caution. Ty Boudeau had all the makings of a heartbreaker, and as much as she might want to get to know him on a more “personal level,” she was far better off keeping her distance.

Men who spent inordinate amounts of time on the road didn’t make good husbands. It was one of the many lessons her parents’ failed marriage and her mother’s endless stream of lovers had taught Adele.




Chapter Three


Ty drove through the small town of Markton, the closest community to Cowboy College. It could hardly be described as a metropolis, but he liked its grassroots country charm, its one stoplight at the intersection of Main Street and Brown, and the way everybody waved at everybody else.

Markton was a far cry from Santa Fe, where he’d grown up. He couldn’t say lived because once he’d left home to rodeo full-time, he traveled six to nine months a year. When he needed to crash for a while, he stayed at his older sister’s place. His fifth-wheel trailer parked behind the barn was, sad to say, the closest thing he had to a permanent residence.

He drove along Main Street at the posted speed of thirty-five, enjoying his free afternoon and taking in the various sights. The Spotted Horse Saloon. The feed store. Bush’s General Store. The elementary school. The barbershop and its counterpart, Goldie’s Locks and Nail Salon.

He’d often thought he might like to settle down in a town like Markton, and as he drove through it—end to end in less than five minutes—he contemplated where to stop first.

The feed store, an always familiar stomping ground, looked to have possibilities. Ty pulled into an empty space across from a sign advertising a popular brand of dog food. Inside the store, he was greeted by the middle-aged man behind the counter, whose double take was almost comical.

“Ty Boudeau?” he asked with raised brows.

“On a good day,” Ty joked.

“We heard you were in town.” The man came around from behind the counter carrying a pen and piece of paper. “Name’s Henry Parkman.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, the wife would sure love to have your autograph.”

“No trouble.”

It felt good being asked. The requests for autographs had tapered off since he’d lost at Nationals. Ty preferred to think it was because he hadn’t been competing of late, not that he’d fallen from grace.

As he scribbled his name on the notepad, Henry Parkman produced his cell phone, held it at arm’s reach, leaned in close and snapped a picture of him and Ty.

“For the wife.” He grinned sheepishly. “Anything special I can help you with today?”

“Just browsing.”

“Holler if you need me,” he said to Ty, returning to his place behind the cash register.

Ty gravitated to the back of the store where the saddles and a rather impressive assortment of lariats hung on the wall. Though he wasn’t in the market for another one, he removed several from the wall display and tested them for weight and flexibility.

For reasons he chose not to address, he avoided the Iron Grip Ropes—though it probably had something to do with the face smiling at him from the rope’s cardboard wrapper. Garth Maitland. The man who’d beat out Ty for the championship last December.

“Mr. Boudeau?” The cracking voice belonged to a teenager who bore a striking resemblance to Stick. “Hi.”

“Hate to bother you, sir,” he said, his exceptionally large Adam’s apple bobbing as he talked, “but could I trouble you for an autograph?”

“Are you by chance related to Stick over at Cowboy College?” Ty asked as he signed the kid’s ball cap with a black marker.

The teen’s eyes went wide. “He’s my cousin.”

“Well, he’s a pretty good worker. But don’t tell him I said so.”

“I—I won’t,” the kid stammered, and made a beeline for the door.

Ty wasn’t in the market for a new pair of boots, either, but he checked out the selection just for something to do. The front-door buzzer went off every few minutes as customers came and left. Deciding he could possibly use a new leather belt, he picked one out and headed to the counter.

While he completed his purchase, the door buzzer went off again. Bidding the store owner goodbye, he turned…and came face-to-face with Adele.

“Oh!” She drew back. “Hello. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Just seeing what the town has to offer.” He glanced at the attractive young woman beside Adele, whose stylish clothes and painful looking four-inch heels were more suited to a stroll down Hollywood Boulevard than Main Street in Markton. “I’m Ty Boudeau.”

“This is my friend Reese Carter. She’s engaged t-to…” Adele stammered, then recovered. “She lives on the ranch next door.”

Ty’s chest suddenly constricted, and he cautioned himself not to jump to conclusions. Markton boasted more than one rodeo family; Seven Cedars had more than one neighbor.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, and shook the hand Reese offered. “Are you ladies in the market for horse pellets?”

“We were just killing a little time before going for lunch at the Spotted Horse.”

“They serve food?”

“Surprisingly good food.” Reese smiled brightly.

She sure didn’t look as if she’d grown up on a ranch, not with her high heels and the designer sunglasses propped on her head.

“Well, it was nice running into you.” Adele looked ready to bolt, and clamped on to her friend’s arm. “See you later at the ranch.”

“Would you like to join us for lunch?” Reese asked.

“I’m sure he’s busy.” Adele cut in before Ty could answer.

Because she seemed in such an all-fired hurry to get away from him, he answered, “I’d like that very much. Appreciate the invitation.”

Adele’s mouth, usually lush and pretty, tightened.

Finding her discomfort amusing, Ty followed the ladies to the door and held it open for them. They crossed the street at the corner and went up half a block to the saloon entrance.

Inside, Reese informed the hostess her fiancé would be joining them.

“I’ll show him to your table.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Reese peered past the hostess, her face alight. “Here he comes now.”

Everyone looked over to see a handsome cowboy making his way toward them, his swagger confident.

The same anxiety that had gripped Ty that first day at Cowboy College, the one he thought he’d successfully conquered, returned with a vengeance. Too late, he realized his mistake—he’d misread Adele completely. At the least, he should have asked Reese her fiancé’s name before barging in on her and Adele’s lunch date.

Then he wouldn’t be stuck sitting across the table from the man who had beat him in team and tie-down roping last December, stealing the title of World Champion and the Iron Grip sponsorship deal from him.



EACH BITE OF TY’S Swiss-cheese-and-mushroom burger tasted like paste and sat in his stomach like a lead ball. He couldn’t fault Garth Maitland for his unappetizing meal. The guy had been nothing but decent all during lunch. He always was, even when Ty lost to him at Nationals.

Until then, Ty and Garth had been friendly rivals, getting along well, real well even, when they weren’t competing. Not the same could be said when they were in the arena. Both of them were out to win, and a mutual liking and respect of each other’s abilities went only so far. After losing the title, Ty had kept his distance from Garth. Not because he resented the man; Garth had won fair and square. The problem was Ty’s, who felt he was staring his personal failings square in the face each time he looked at Garth.

The lunch conversation, stilted at first, soon settled into a congenial rhythm, carried mostly by his companions. Ty injected a comment every now and then just to keep anyone from noticing his discomfort.

Except one person did.

“I’m sorry,” Adele whispered under her breath, when Garth and Reese were busy speaking to each other and momentarily ignoring them. “I tried to—”

“Not your fault,” Ty whispered back. They were seated together in the booth, the only positive thing about lunch as far as he was concerned. “It’s okay.”

“Really?” She appeared genuinely distraught.

He flashed his best interview smile, hoping to reassure her. “Really.”

She’d tried to avoid this disaster earlier at the feed store. He had no one to blame but himself.

“What brings you to Cowboy College, Ty?” Reese asked, her demeanor curious but friendly.

Instantly, silence descended on the table. Adele gnawed her lower lip. Garth’s eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Ty got annoyed—with himself and the situation. Okay, he’d lost the world championship title and a profitable sponsorship deal. To the man with whom he’d just eaten lunch. No reason for everyone to act as if he had an incurable disease.

“I apologize if I said something wrong.” Reese looked contrite.

“You didn’t.” Ty gave her credit for not ignoring the sudden tension. “I came to Cowboy College for Adele’s help with my new horse.” The glossed-over explanation sounded better than the truth.

“It was a shame about your other horse,” Garth said sympathetically. “And bad timing.”

“It was. But these things happen.”

“They do. My old partner fell and busted his kneecap last September. He won’t be competing again until this fall, and even that’s iffy.”

“Here’s to this season.” Ty lifted his mug of beer in a toast.

“To this season,” Garth repeated, and lifted his own, a glint in his eyes. He was obviously looking forward to the next time they went up against each other.

Determination surged inside Ty. Residing next door to his rival might have some advantages. At the very least, the constant reminder would help motivate him and keep him focused on his goal.

Reese’s glance traveled from one man to the other. “Is something going here on I don’t get?” Garth chuckled.

Ty wanted to but wasn’t able to let his guard down enough to explain.

The remainder of their meal went well, until it came time to pay the server.

“I’ve got it.” Ty reached for the bill.

“No problem.” Garth beat him to the punch by a scant second. “I already told the waitress lunch was on me.” He signed the slip with a flourish.

“All right. I’ll buy next time.”

“Deal.” Garth grinned, and for a moment they were friends again.

Outside the saloon, they made plans to go their separate ways.

“You need to head back to the ranch right away?” Reese asked Adele.

“If you don’t mind. I’ve got a bunch of work at the office stacked up.”

“It’s Sunday. Don’t you ever take any time off?”

“I just did.”

“You work way too hard,” Reese scolded, and slung an arm around Adele’s shoulders. “Come on, we’ll drive you home.”

“She can ride with me,” Ty offered. He’d assumed Adele had driven herself, or he would have offered earlier.

“You don’t have to,” she answered a little too quickly.

“No problem. I’m going that way.”

“I hate cutting your trip to town short.”

“You’re not. I was just thinking of heading back to the ranch.” In truth, he’d been planning on driving down the road to Little Twister Creek and the fishing spot Stick had mentioned earlier. Noting Adele’s hesitancy, Ty couldn’t help himself and pressed the point, if only to see if she’d rather inconvenience her friends than ride with him.

“Why don’t you come by one day for a visit?” Garth suggested. “Have a look around.”

Ty had seen pictures of Garth’s place in various rodeo publications. It was a roper’s dream. Part of him wanted to go, just to check out the setup and salivate. The other part of him resisted. He would, after all, be walking into the enemy’s camp.

“Thanks. I may take you up on that one day.”

“Bring your horse. When you and Adele have worked out the kinks,” he added.

Ty bristled. With competitiveness, not anger. He recognized a challenge when it was issued, and would like nothing better than to take Hamm over to Garth’s and show him what he could expect to see on the circuit next month.

“I’ll do that. Soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“I don’t know about you,” Reese said to Adele with exaggerated weariness, “but I’ve had just about as much testosterone as I can handle in one day.” She looped her arm through Garth’s. “It was really nice meeting you, Ty. And I do hope you’ll come for a visit. With or without your horse. Bye, sweetie.” She blew Adele a kiss. “Call me tomorrow.”

“You okay?” Ty asked Adele as they were heading to his truck. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“A little tired. I ate too much at lunch.”

“We can walk a bit if you want.”

“I really should get back to work.”

He was pretty certain there was more to her subdued mood, but didn’t ask, opening the passenger side door instead.

“Sorry about me and Garth back there,” he said as he drove. The ranch was only about a fifteen-minute ride from town. Ty didn’t intend to spend it all in silence. “We probably got a little carried away.”

“It’s understandable. All things considered, I think you two behaved quite well.”

“Meaning he could have rubbed his championship belt buckle in my face?”

“That, and you could have retaliated with something equally petty. It had to be hard for you, sitting there, pretending you weren’t bothered.”

“Not as hard as watching him win last December. You have no idea how much I wanted his rope to land short that day.”

“I do,” she said absently, staring out the window. “I’ve watched men compete in roping for years, and known that no matter how good I was, no matter how hard I trained, I’d never be allowed to compete against them.”

“Do you want to?”

“I do and have. In local jackpots where women are allowed to enter. But it’s not the same as a professional rodeo.”

“You’re the exception. Not many women can go head-to-head with a man in this sport.”

“Not yet.”

Ty had to smile. He had no doubt if a member of the fairer sex could break into professional tie-down roping and pave the path for others, it would be Adele Donnelly.

Which was why he should probably give her every opportunity to help him with his problem.

“Selfishly,” he admitted, “I’m glad you’re not competing professionally.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because after the last few days, I’m thinking you’re the only person who can help me.” Her expression softened. So did a place in Ty’s heart. “Unless you think it’s a conflict of interest. Garth’s your neighbor and friend.”

“No conflict. He understands business is business.”

“Just out of curiosity, have you ever beaten him in a one-on-one match?”

Her green eyes sparkled. “Frequently.”

Ty burst into the first true belly laugh he’d had in months.

Moments later, they pulled up in front of the main lodge. He put the truck in Park but left the motor running.

“Thanks for the ride.” Adele had her hand on the door handle but made no move to open it.

Was she also reluctant for their afternoon encounter to end?

“Thanks for letting me tag along during your lunch,” Ty said.

“Are you serious? It couldn’t have been that much fun for you.”

“There were a few high spots.” Like the seating arrangement.

“Next time I try to warn you—” she gave him a stern look “—pay attention.”

“How ’bout next time we go to lunch just the two of us?”

The pause that followed lasted a little too long.

“I…uh…” She inhaled slowly and squared her shoulders. “Thank you for asking, but I don’t date guests.”

He hid his disappointment with a joke. “Is that one of those rules on the list I haven’t read yet?”

“No, a personal one. Less messy that way when the guest leaves.” Without another word, she pushed open the passenger door and hopped out, giving him the briefest of waves as she climbed the steps to the lodge entrance.

Her abrupt departure had Ty wondering if she’d been there and done that, and been left behind with a wounded heart.

And since he was leaving after the Buffalo Bill Cody Stampede, he certainly couldn’t argue the logic behind her rule.



“WHAT’S WRONG?”

“Nothing, Pop.” Adele had practically steamrolled her grandfather in her haste to get inside.

“You sure?” He studied her with concern.

She suspected he’d been watching her and Ty from the lobby window. “Absolutely. Why would you think there was?” She made her way around the registration counter and into the sanctuary of her small office.

Pop followed her, shutting the door behind them except for a narrow crack—just in case someone rang the bell.

“You’re upset, and Ty looked none too happy, either.”

She was never any good at hiding her feelings. “Reese and I ran into him at the feed store. He wound up joining us for lunch. Garth was there, too.”

Pop harrumphed. “Guess I can’t blame the boy for being a touch prickly after that.”

“Actually, he handled it pretty well.” She gave her grandfather a brief account of the lunch.

“Then why are you acting like you two tangled? Is he mad about taking the beginner class?”

“Not at all.”

Pop lowered himself carefully into the office’s single visitor chair, wincing slightly. When he was settled, he let out a long groan. “Damn hip’s giving me fits today. Must be the rain.”

It hadn’t rained in over two weeks and didn’t remotely look like it was going to anytime soon. “You taking the new medicine your doctor prescribed?”

“Yes, and quit nagging me.” They both knew he should have hip-replacement surgery, but Pop insisted he wasn’t going under the knife unless it was a matter of life and death.

Adele thought his refusal had more to do with her than any fear of hospitals. He worried about leaving the entire responsibility of the ranch and Cowboy College to her.

“And quit changing the subject,” he scolded.

“What?”

“From you and Ty.” His wizened features softened. “You like him.”

Hoping to distract her grandfather, she shook her mouse and roused her computer from its hibernation. “He’s just another guest.”

“You don’t date enough. You need to get out and have a little fun now and then.”

“I went to lunch today.”

“With friends. That’s not the same.”

No? It had felt a little like a date. Part of the time, anyway.

“You’ve haven’t gone out with anyone since that Joe kid from Phoenix.”

“Yes, I have.”

“When? Who?”

Adele searched her brain and came up blank. “I’m sure I have.”

Pop just grunted. His way of saying he was right.

She skimmed the contents of her email in-box, hating to agree with her grandfather. Joe had been her last relationship, and it could hardly be called serious. In fact, none of her relationships since she’d graduated high school had been serious.

“Ty’s a good man,” Pop continued, oblivious to her diversion tactics. “And he’s taken a shine to you. I can tell by how he looks at you.”

“I’m not interested in him except as a guest of this ranch and a student in my class.”

Pop chuckled. “I guess that’s why you were walking away from him earlier like a bee flew up the back of your shirt.”

“I was not!” Adele’s heated denial was met with another grunt. She clicked on the unopened emails in earnest, ignoring her grandfather.

He abruptly sobered. “Is it because he’s a professional roper?”

She didn’t respond.

“They’re not all bad,” his said, his gravelly voice dropping in pitch.

“I know.” She turned and gave him a soft smile. “But men like you are the exception, not the rule.”

“It’s been a lot of years, Dellie. Time you moved on. Put your parents and what they did behind you.”

“I don’t want to talk about them. Not now.”

“Just because your mom and dad were lousy parents is no reason to shut yourself off from love. I won’t be around forever.”

“Don’t say that!”

“You need someone besides an old coot like me to dote on. A husband. Children.”

“You’re more than enough.”

“Get to know Ty. Don’t let him being a professional roper put you off.”

Her grandfather had hit the nail on the head, and they both knew it. Work was simply an excuse. The main reason Adele didn’t date much was because the vast majority of single men she met were unsuitable. Markton was a small town and the pickings slim to begin with. Making it worse, she didn’t date employees or, as she’d told Ty, guests. Most others close to her age were either rodeo men or wannabe rodeo men.

After watching her parents destroy each other’s lives and hers, she’d vowed not to become involved with anyone remotely connected with “the business.”

“He’s leaving in a few weeks, Pop. Even if I wanted to give him a shot, I wouldn’t.”

Before her grandfather could comment, the bell on the reception counter rang. Adele sprang to her feet and called, “Be right there.”

As there were no new guests scheduled to arrive today, she fully expected to see one of their current students standing at the counter, waiting to inform her of a need. At the sight of the lone, middle-aged woman wheeling one small suitcase, Adele came to a sudden stop, every thought flying instantly out of her head.

“Who is it?” Pop asked, hobbling out the office door. He, too, drew up short. But unlike Adele, he wasn’t at a loss for words. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Adele wanted to know the same thing.

“Oh, Pop,” Lani Donnelly chirped. “Is that anything to say to your daughter-in-law?” She turned to Adele, a too-sunny-to-be-real smile on her face. “Don’t just stand there, baby girl, come give your mom a hug.”




Chapter Four


Adele didn’t move right away. She couldn’t. Waves of hurt, anger and resentment hit her all at once and kept her rooted in place. She was vaguely aware of a guest coming out of the business center and leaving through the lobby entrance. She was acutely aware of her grandfather standing beside her. For a man with debilitating arthritis, his spine had snapped as straight and rigid as an iron bar.

“Please, baby girl.” The pleading in her mother’s voice penetrated the haze surrounding Adele.

She shored up her defenses, only to discover they weren’t as impenetrable as she’d hoped. The sad and neglected little girl inside her still longed for the comfort of her mother’s arms and the reassurance that she was loved.

“You okay, Dellie?”

At Pop’s question, Adele glanced down, to see that her hands were shaking.

“I’m fine.” And she was fine. Pulling herself together, she wrung the tremors from her fingers and raised her chin. No matter what, her mother wasn’t going to hurt her again. Not after Adele had worked so hard to create a good life for herself.

“Hello, Mom.”

They each took a step, then two, and met in the middle. The hug Adele offered was reserved. Not so for her mother, who clung to her, then burst into great racking sobs.

Adele wanted to remained unaffected, but couldn’t. Years of mistrust and disappointment, however, enabled her to extract herself from her mom’s desperate grasp.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Lani dabbed at her eyes. “I’m just so happy to see you. It’s been months.”

Almost two years, but Adele didn’t bother correcting her.

They were about the same height and had once possessed similar figures. A weight loss during the last two years had left Lani painfully thin. Combined with her rough-around-the-edges appearance, she looked years older than her actual age. Her green eyes, highlighted with too much makeup, darted around the lobby with the desperation of a starving animal seeking its next meal.

“You should have called to let us know you were coming.” Adele struggled to keep bitterness from creeping into her voice. Her mother may have hit rock bottom—the only reason Adele could think of to explain the unexpected visit—but that didn’t erase all the bad memories.

“The battery died on my cell phone, and I haven’t had a chance to replace it.”

She was lying. Adele could feel it in her gut. Her mother had probably been unable to pay her bill without the help of a man.

Was else was she covering up?

“You look good, Pop.” Lani smiled at Adele’s grandfather, though her eyes were still filled with tears.

“You don’t.” Leave it to Pop to cut to the chase.

“This last year’s been pretty hard on me.” She swallowed.

He hobbled closer. “Is that why you just showed up out of the blue?”

“I, ah…”

One of the housekeeping staff entered the lobby pushing a cart laden with cleaning supplies, fresh linens and a vacuum. After a hesitant glance at them, she changed direction and went into the TV lounge to begin her work.

Lani rolled her suitcase from one side to the other. Uncertainty clouded her features, and she blurted, “I need a place to stay for a few days. Maybe a few weeks. I know it’s a lot to ask, and Lord knows you have every reason turn me away, but I’ve got nowhere else to go. I’m willing to work off my room and board.”

Adele took a step back, stunned by her mother’s request. She didn’t know what shocked her more—that her mother had the gall to show up unexpectedly and ask for a favor, a big one, or that she was actually willing to work. Lani hadn’t voluntarily sought employment that Adele could recall.

“I don’t know, Mom,” she hedged. “We’re kind of full right now.”

“I can always sleep on your couch.” The offhand remark came across as desperate. “You’ll hardly know I’m there. I swear.”

Adele almost choked. Her mother sleeping on her couch? Not in this lifetime. “Mom—”

“She can stay in room nine.” Pop stepped around Adele.

She started to protest, not wanting her mother anywhere near Seven Cedars, only to shut her mouth when Pop took hold of her mother’s suitcase.

“Come on, we’ll take you there now. Dellie, grab the key and bring the golf cart around.”

Though they ran the ranch together, it technically belonged to Pop. Adele might disagree with his decision, and would tell him later when they were in private, but the choice to let Lani stay was his to make.

She promptly spun on her heels and fled to her office without glancing back.

In addition to eighteen fully equipped cabins, they had a building with nine hotel-like rooms behind the main lodge. Number nine was on the end, the smallest of the rooms, and contained only a twin bed. For that reason, it was usually vacant. The room had been reserved for the upcoming weekend, but the guest had canceled.




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