“If you’re late to lunch you have to feed the chickens later,” Cash warned her as he led the chitchatting guests past her. As the group walked toward tables and chairs housed under the roof of the café, Tracy sincerely wished the chickens were the worst that could happen. Cash added, “There’re a hundred of ’em.”
A hundred? Tracy flinched but gave the handsome cowboy a thumbs-up. Listening to the voice on the other end of the line, she wondered how bad it would be if she were to bow out of this dude ranch week. Bad. Most likely the magazine would fire her—kind of bad. Her gut said chance it. Her heart wanted to believe everything would be all right. Her brain warned her this was the beginning of the end.
Her cell still pressed to her ear, she sat down on a wooden bench just outside the entrance to the stables and listened. What would she do if she got fired? Who cared? Maybe she needed to get to Wild Horse at all costs. But whatwould she do without income? She had less than a thousand dollars in savings. Other jobs? Here? In journalism? Not if the biggest magazine south of Denver let her go. She had recently finished writing her first two children’s picture books but was still working on the illustrations for the second one. Unpublished books weren’t going to pay her bills. Was the life she was trying to build for the two of them in Colorado Springs not meant to be? There was definitely no future in Wild Horse. But he was there. What about him?
“Okay, I’ll stay here,” Tracy heard herself say to the caller. “For now.” She rubbed her forehead, felt the brim of her Elsa hat touch her fingertips, and glanced around Triple C Ranch-East. She had looked forward to this assignment and to writing her first big ranch story for weeks. “But I want to see you. Ineedto see you.” She listened, looked east toward Wild Horse, and nodded. Head down, shoulders sagging, she said, “Remember how much I love you.” The sentiment was returned, and Tracy whispered, “Bye-bye.” She clicked off her cell but stared at it.
Tracy glanced at the café. She was missing the first meal of her dude ranch adventure. Jacob wouldn’t say an unkind word. But Donna would have an opinion. So far she’d arrived late, nearly run over the ranch owner, and been unprepared to ride. What was Cash Cooper thinking of her? That she was a loser with a capital L?
Not one to feel sorry for herself, Tracy raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and took off with purpose in her step toward the people, food, and tables. Pasting a smile on her face, she walked under the arched roof to the serving line. There were oblong metal pans positioned over candles no longer lit. The first pan held a single barbecued rib, the center pan had half a scoop of fried potatoes in the corner, and in a third pan baked beans were all but gone. Tracy picked up a tin plate as a lady, maybe in her late forties, walked behind the serving tables with two nearly empty pitchers. One pitcher appeared to have been filled with iced tea and the other with lemonade.
“I’m Kellie, Sam’s wife and Jeff’s mom,” the tall, slim woman with short, black hair said, setting the pitchers aside. “You’re Tracy, the journalist?”
“That’s the rumor,” Tracy said self-consciously with a laugh and a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Kellie. I’m sorry I’m arriving late to my first meal on the ranch.”
“No problem,” Kellie said, putting on oven mitts. “Hungry?”
“More than I realized,” Tracy admitted.
“Good. I’ve got you covered.” Kellie opened the oven and removed a tin plate filled with barbecued ribs, fried potatoes, and baked beans. She gestured for Tracy to discard her plate and carrying the warm one, she said, “Follow me.” Kellie set the tin on a picnic table where there was an empty spot next to Jacob and across from Jeff. “Sweet tea or lemonade? Cash’s Aunt Rachel makes the best sweet tea in Colorado. She and I brew it the same way.”
“Sweet tea, please,” Tracy said.
All smiles, Jacob said, “Pick up that rib, Tracy, and let’s get a shot.”
Tracy already felt better, sitting with Jacob and Jeff. Kellie was back with sweet tea, napkins, and utensils. Tracy took a bite of the most delicious barbecued rib she’d ever tasted. Her eyes opened wide in delight and she nodded her appreciation at Kellie.
“Yeah, Mom’s a great chef,” Jeff said and grinned.
Tracy covertly glanced around the other tables. She didn’t see Cash. She caught Donna staring at her, but in the blink of an eye, Donna smiled. Jeff and Jacob talked about the ranch. As Tracy quickly ate, to catch up with the others and more ravenously than she would have thought possible, she spied Cash. Standing near a corral, where several horses were saddled, he was speaking to a strawberry blonde. The woman reached out and took his hand. Tracy remembered how her own hand had tingled when Cash held it. She silently acknowledged an odd stab in her stomach as the woman stepped closer and placed her other hand on Cash’schest which Tracy knew was rock hard with muscle. When Cash shook his head, the redhead seemed to be trying to cajole him into something. Tracy said nothing and looked away as Sam Reynolds joined them.
“I see Rusty is back. Again,” Jeff said to the man with the black hair and beard.
“Yeah,” Sam replied but didn’t elaborate, instead greeting Tracy and Jacob.
Tracy concentrated on finishing her food and when she dared look up again, it was due to the sound of Cash’s voice. He was at the picnic table where Ed and two older ladies in the group sat. The redhead named Rusty had vanished. Where? The house? The stable? Down the road?
“Guess who’s feeding the chickens this evening?” Cash asked on his way to the table where Tracy sat. He stopped at the opposite end of the table and looking at her, said, “That girl.”
“Chickens don’t take well to strangers,” Jeff said seriously and shook his head.
“Any experience feeding chickens?” Sam asked her.
“No, I’ve been told they’re dangerous,” she said.
“Not if they don’t peck you,” Jeff replied.
“Oh, they’ll peck her,” Cash said.
Tracy’s only encounters with fowls had been at a distance. “They’re peckers?”
“They can be,” Kellie said with an arched brow aimed at her husband, son, and boss. “Ignore these men, Tracy, but wear your boots around the chickens. They nip bare toes.”
Everyone laughed, including Tracy. Wranglers began filing out of the dining area, stacking their plates on an empty table. The guests assigned to them followed their lead.
“See you later,” Sam said to his wife, then stood and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Tracy, Jacob, and Cash stood as well. Then it was back to the stables and time to saddle the horses. She realized the wranglers’ horses were the ones already saddled and in thecorral. As the men instructed, demonstrated, and did most of the heavy lifting, Jacob engaged Donna in helping him get some shots of the action.
