A Wife in Wyoming (10 page)

“So much for day one,” Marcos said. “How much more fun can we stand?”

* * *

“I
T
WOULD
BE
helpful if they at least wanted to be here.” Ford took a long draw on his canned drink. “How are we going to accomplish anything with the attitudes they displayed this afternoon?” He frowned at Caroline. “We were supposed to be able to get work done with these kids here. When is that going to happen?”

She didn't want to confess her own disappointment. “Today was rough, I admit. But tomorrow will be better. They're out of their comfort zone, so they're figuring out how to fit in.” After giving the kids a free hour before starting dinner preparation, she had gathered with the Marshalls in the barn to review the afternoon's progress.

Or, as Ford described it, the lack thereof.

“Thomas settled down toward the end,” Garrett said. “And Marcos will come around. Lizzie might be a real problem, though. She's clearly terrified.”

Dylan wiped a hand over his face. “That chestnut is the smallest horse we've got.”

Ford tossed his can into the trash barrel. “Can we borrow a pony from somebody? She won't be able to herd cattle on something that small, but maybe she could start with a pony and gradually work up to the horse.”

“I'll make some calls.” Garrett headed toward the house.

“I'll bring the truck up for the hayride.” Dylan put his hat on. “Will the boys want to help move hay bales?”

“Nate is on the dinner crew,” Caroline reminded him. “But the other three certainly could be put to good use. Give Becky a chance, too. Girls can move bales, you know.” She sent him a smile.

“But they shouldn't have to.” Dylan winked at her and left the barn.

Then she was alone with Ford, who stood staring at the floor with his face set in stern lines. She couldn't help asking, “What are you thinking?”

His eyes met hers. “I'm wondering if you have an exit strategy for this situation.”

“You believe it's that bad?”

“Most kids enjoy horses. What happens if they don't adjust? How is any of the rest of this project going to come together if we can't put them in the saddle and take them around the ranch?”

“We have to be patient, Ford. Give them time. That's the whole point.”

“I don't have time.” The words seemed to emerge against his will. He held up his hand in apology. “Sorry. That's not your problem. But I'm not sure your patience is going to be enough.”

Taking a risk, she stepped close and put a hand on his upper arm. “Two weeks, Ford. Let's give them two weeks to experience the positive side of being here. If they haven't made real progress, if they're not working together as a group, I'll swallow the embarrassment of failure and take them home. Deal?”

Being so near, she could smell his aftershave, see the fineness of the skin across his cheekbones and the flecks of gray in those deep blue eyes. Every breath brought in his scent, and she was dizzy from trying not to inhale deeply.

He lifted her hand in his free one. “So that's the bet now? Two weeks?” His fingers around hers were warm and dry, strong yet gentle. She could imagine them roaming her body...

A blush heated her face and throat. Caroline backed up abruptly, pulling her hand free. “That's it. But don't go assuming you're going to win. I'm betting tomorrow will show us some improvement.” She sounded panicked, which was how she felt. “I'll catch up with you at dinner, okay?”

Without waiting for his answer, she spun around and hurried through the barn door. Clearly, when it came to Ford, she couldn't let herself off the leash, not even the least little bit. He went to her head like whiskey. She couldn't afford to get any more intoxicated.

He'd already ruled out a summer fling between them, even if it were possible, which it wasn't. And what hope could she hold on to for a lasting relationship? His life revolved around the high salary and exalted status of a San Francisco law firm. He thrived on conflict and control, which was not all that different from her dad's way of life.

A way of life she had deliberately rejected. If being with Ford meant returning to that world, she would have to refuse, or betray her most basic values. So...

He'd be leaving. She'd be staying. That was all there was to say about the situation.

Too bad her heart was not in the mood to listen.

* * *

S
HAKING
HIS
HEAD
, Ford watched Caroline scurry out of the barn. Just touching her fingers was enough to make his pulse race. He wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his sanity over the coming weeks, being with her all day, every day. Even knowing that Garrett cared about her didn't seem to matter. Ford might fight his brother for the right to hold Caroline's hand. How much more despicable could he get?

At least it would only be for two weeks. He really didn't believe these kids could make it any further. He admired Caroline's optimism and her commitment to rescuing kids on the verge of trouble. Her idealism appealed to the part of him that cared about justice, equality before the law and a fair chance for everyone to succeed.

But there was only so much that could be done. The kids had arrived at the ranch bearing huge burdens of resentment, self-doubt and anxiety. Horses and physical challenges could work wonders, but some of these teenagers needed more than the Marshalls and the Circle M could offer. Ford only hoped Caroline wouldn't be too hard on herself when the program didn't live up to her expectations.

Meanwhile, he'd be satisfied if everybody came through without injuries or stolen property. He wouldn't expect more.

Hearing the hay truck rumbling in the distance, he left the barn for the house to round up the hay movers. He found Caroline supervising Lena, Lizzie and Nate in the kitchen, while the other four lounged around the television, staring at their phones.

“I'm in search of a few good men,” he announced. Then he remembered what Caroline had said to Dylan. “Or women, if they're available.”

No one glanced up. “For what?” Justino asked.

“Moving hay. The cowboy way of strength training.”

Lying prone on the couch, Marcos groaned. “I don't think so.”

But Becky clicked off her phone and stood. “I'll do it.”

Ford surveyed the three boys. “You guys are going to let a girl beat you?”

Thomas shrugged. “Who cares?”

Reminding himself that he was the adult in the room, Ford held his temper. “The rule on this ranch is, if you don't work, you don't eat.” He heard Caroline gasp behind him. She believed he'd made a threat he couldn't enforce.

But she would be wrong about that. “So who wants to skip dinner?”

Marcos challenged him with a measuring stare. “You can't starve us.”

“From the looks of you, it would take you a while to starve. I suspect by the next meal you'll be hungry enough to cooperate.” Now he had Thomas's attention, and Justino's, too. “I'm not unreasonable—come work up a little sweat, and you're guaranteed a place at the table.” He glanced over at the kitchen, sending Caroline a reassuring nod. “What have you got to lose?”

They held out for another couple of minutes. Ford leaned against the wall, crossed his arms and waited.

Finally, Becky broke into the silence. “Oh, come on. Don't be such losers.”

The three boys stirred and slowly got to their feet. “All right, all right.” Thomas headed for the door. “Let's get this over with so he'll leave us alone.”

Ford followed Marcos, the last of them, to the door. Just before he left he glanced at Caroline, who was watching with an expression part impressed, part exasperated.

He winked at her and shut the door behind him.

Dinner was rowdy and loud, though for the most part the kids remembered his lecture at lunch on staying in their seats and using their manners. The members of the hay crew were full of tales about their exploits—how many bales they'd lifted, how much each bale weighed, who could lift the highest and throw the farthest. Becky had sustained her end of the work, and was pleased to recount for Lena and Lizzie how she'd kept up with the boys. Marcos and Thomas had competed, of course, but came out even, which was just as well for the general morale.

“Would you really have made them miss dinner?” Caroline came to stand beside him as he ate spaghetti and meat sauce leaning against the kitchen counter.

She was gazing up at him, but he kept his eyes on the kids at the table. “What do you think?”

“I guess that's your version of tough love.”

“I'm not quite ready to use the word
love
with any of these kids just yet. But I had to get their attention. Teenage boys do have to eat. I remember being hungry all the time at that age.”

“Meanwhile, teenage girls are trying to starve themselves to attract the boys' attention. There's something wrong with that picture.”

“Maybe just the fact that they get involved with each other so young these days.” He glanced at Justino and Lena, who were obviously holding hands under the table. “We push sex at them way too soon.”

“So true. How are we going to keep those two apart?” Caroline was watching the young couple, as well. “I have no doubt they're making plans to meet in the barn after curfew.”

“We'll have to watch them till they're asleep.”

“These are teenagers. They can stay up all night.”

“Here's a thought—they could do as they're told.” Caroline laughed, and he joined her. “No, you're right. I don't believe it, either.”

But now he'd looked at her, shared her good humor, and with that connection came an avalanche of the very emotions he didn't want to experience—the wanting and needing, the aching for more than just the occasional conversation. Her eyes widened, and the sweet blush in her cheeks revealed she felt the same.

Ford cleared his throat and pulled his gaze away. “So who is riding herd on the cleanup crew? It's going to be a tough job.”

“I'll do it.” Caroline put her own plate on the counter by the sink. “You've been the bad guy already today. Let me try to coax them into cooperating.”

“Don't be afraid to call for reinforcements.” He set his plate down on hers and crossed to the door. Under his breath, he added, “You're going to need them.”

* * *

M
ARCOS
CAUSED
THE
first disruption. “I ain't washing dishes.” With that flat announcement, he walked to the sofa, threw himself down and closed his eyes.

Thomas followed him. “That's woman's work.” He dropped into an armchair and took out his phone.

“I'm not cleaning up all by myself,” Becky said loudly. “This is a big mess.”

“Get Lena and Lizzie,” Justino suggested. “They can help.”

Caroline stalked over to switch off the television. “Did you eat supper, Thomas? Marcos? Justino?”

None of them answered.

“Lena, Lizzie and Nate cleaned up the kitchen after they cooked your food. Now it's your responsibility to get it ready for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Thomas shook his head. “Ain't happening.”

“Do you remember Judge Henley? Do you recall the plans she had for your summer?”

Justino stirred in his chair. Marcos opened his eyes to eye her warily.

“Right. After the three of you got caught stealing from the gas station, the judge recommended community service five days a week, eight hours a day. Do you understand why you're not out there cleaning up litter on the side of the road?”

The three boys glanced at each other.

“Because,” Caroline said, “I told her you would be here, acting like model citizens while learning ranch skills. I promised you would cooperate and follow the rules.”

Walking to the bulletin board, she pointed to the chart that indicated cleanup duties for tonight's dinner. “These are the rules, which say that the four of you are washing up. Now, you can wash dishes. Or you can pick up litter every weekday, all summer long. Your choice.”

Justino got up first. “This is stupid.” He started for the kitchen. “Come on, Marcos. You're no better than me.”

“Man, my mom cleans houses, does other people's dishes. I don't have to.”

Caroline gazed at him. “You're saying your mother has to but you don't?”

“No. I mean—” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “She don't make me do this at home.”

“Lucky you. Eventually, though, you're going to have to clean up a kitchen. Might as well be now. Thomas, you, too.” If they still refused, she didn't know how to compel them. And if she couldn't get them to do the chores, there really wasn't a point to the entire project. As Ford suggested, she might as well give up and take the kids home. Heaving a deep breath, Thomas stood up. “Let's do this, Marcos. I can't go back home and spend all summer hiding the old man's whiskey. Washing dishes isn't the worst job in the world. We could have to be taking all those horses' temperatures.”

Marcos went into the kitchen. “Yeah, sticking thermometers up horses' butts. What a lousy job that would be.”

The humor went quickly downhill, but as long as they were getting soap on dishes and rinsing it off, Caroline could stand it.

“At least they were talking about the horses,” she remarked to Ford later, as he drove the hay truck across the bridge over the creek. “I think it's progress that they were connecting to their own animal, even if that did involve a fairly detailed discussion of horse poop.”

Ford tilted his head. “Manure as a symbol of success. There's an interesting concept.” But he gave her a grin.

They stopped at the fence gate and waited while Becky and Lena jumped down from the truck bed to open the panel and let them through. When the girls had climbed on again, Ford eased the vehicle forward. “So they got the kitchen cleaned up?”