Cowboy Crazy (The Dalton Boys Book 1)

Five brides for five brothers…at least that’s the deal the Daltons have struck with their boys. Each son must marry in order to inherit a piece of the ranch they love so much.

Hank Dalton yearns to run his own spread, but more than that, he longs for a woman to call his own. Paradise Valley is far from civilization, though, and that makes finding the perfect match difficult. Not many women like being two hours from a major supermarket or mall.

Charlotte Halton is on the run. Poor choices have left her with scars—in and out. After her powerful boyfriend left her drugged and set their apartment on fire, she’s just trying to put the pieces of her life back together. Abandoning all she knows seems like the best decision she’s ever made. At least until her car breaks down in the middle of cattle country.

When a pretty little woman is delivered into Hank’s hands, he believes it was fate that kept him from joining his brothers for a “wife hunt” in the city. But she’s leery of men and hiding something dark. Can Hank tap into the attraction they both feel before she drives away?

Cowboy Crazy

All Rights Reserved

Cowboy Crazy

Copyright Em Petrova 2014

Kindle Edition

Cover design by Love, Lust and Lipstick Stains

Electronic book publication August 2014

Cowboy Crazy

Dalton Boys Series

By Em Petrova

“Momma, this pie’s no good. I’d better get rid of it.”

Momma rounded the table just to cuff Witt on the ear. Laughing, he forked another heaping bite of blueberry pie into his mouth.

“It’s bad enough I have to make two pies because you boys demand such enormous slices.” She flipped the dishtowel off her shoulder and delivered five expert whacks with it—one for each brother.

Hank took his spank on his denim-clad backside with a grin and slipped another sugary bite into his mouth. Momma’s pie wasn’t ordinary. She’d won blue ribbons at the county fair for it five years running. And that was just her blueberry pie. Maggie Dalton’s white chocolate cheesecake would end world wars.

The woman who was the center of the Dalton boys’ universes sank to the chair next to their father. Instead of taking a bite of her own pie, she folded her hands. “I think it’s time we tell them our news, Ted.”

Five forks froze in various positions—hanging in the air, hovering over a plate or stuffed in a mouth. “What news?” Fruit coated Cash’s teeth.

“For heaven’s sake, Cash. You were raised not to speak with your mouth full.”

Beck set his fork down carefully. “I don’t like news. It’s rarely good.”

“Why do you say that?” Ted’s eyes crinkled in amusement. His face was tanned leather after years outdoors. His hard work on the Paradise Valley Ranch was etched in every crease.

“Because whenever we’re sitting down for an announcement, it’s bad. Remember when we were kids and you told us Mirabelle had died?”

“Kade was most broken up over the old hound dog’s death,” Hank said. His little brother had been five at the time. Seeing how despondent he was, Hank had put him on a horse and they’d ridden all over the ranch, pretending they were Indians come to scalp the family.

Kade gave him a shit-eatin’ grin.

“Then the time you told us we were staying a whole week with Aunt Diane.” Cash gave an exaggerated shiver, and they all laughed.

Hank sat back and watched his brothers’ antics.

“Aunt Diane brought that big box of nuts and twigs and tried to force us to eat it.”

“Health food,” Momma corrected.

“I’m pretty certain I’d eaten some of that stuff before—in the field.” Cash shoveled pie into his mouth as if erasing the memory.

“That one time she came, she brought a gallon jug of boot polish.” Kade held out his hands, indicating a bottle of polish the size of a fire extinguisher.

Momma pressed her lips together, her hackles rising as always when they talked about her only—crazy—sister. “It was a small bottle, for heaven’s sakes, Kade.”

Kade got into it, using hand motions to recap how Aunt Diane had made them polish their boots just so. He stood, put a boot on the seat and did some exaggerated polishing with his napkin in a way that made him look as if he were sawing logs. Beck sat back, his face red with laughter.

“Remember that time we stayed with her while Momma and Pa went to that three-day auction?” Hank couldn’t resist adding his own memory.

“Oh dear, not this story again!” Momma flapped a hand. “You all survived. You weren’t locked in a dungeon for three days.”

“She took us to church with that loony preacher, but she didn’t let us ride in the car. She made us walk alongside and watch for nails so she didn’t pick one up in the tire.” Hank cleaned his pie plate as his brothers sided with him about their traumatic experience.

When a break came in the chatter, Pa held up a hand. “This isn’t about the dog or Aunt Diane.”

They all sobered.

“What’s it about?” Witt asked.

“The farm,” Momma said.

Hank straightened, prepared for news about owing back taxes or selling off part of the precious ground to those stinking neighbors several miles away, the Guthries. He flattened his hands on the table and held his breath.

Five pairs of nearly identical hazel eyes riveted on their parents. They were all dark like their pa, but Momma was fair and had white threads through her faded red hair. She was soft around the edges but their pa had the body of an old steel Massey tractor. He could go on forever with that body.

“What about the farm?” Hank spoke up.

“It’s a big farm, and it’s difficult to keep up every inch of it,” Momma began.

Witt, the least patient of them, slapped his fingertips off the table, making his fork rattle. “If you’re going to tell us you’re selling—”

Pa sat back in his chair, eyeing them one at a time. As he reached Hank, he felt the weight of that stare the same as he had at nine years old when he’d rigged a cart to the old nanny goat and filled it with the goat’s favorite meal—cabbage. Poor old nanny had gone crazy pulling that cart while trying to turn around and get to it. Funny as hell even if Hank had taken ten paddle blows in punishment.

“We’re not selling. Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?” Cash asked.

“You’re all guessin’ that we’re breaking up the farm, and you’d be right. But our hopes are to give it to our sons. Six pieces have been equally sectioned—one for each of us. All have water for cattle and grass for grazing.”

“Hot damn!” Witt jumped up and slapped his knee.

“There are conditions,” Pa said.

Witt dropped back to his seat and shoveled two bites of pie into his mouth. “I don’t care about conditions. I’ll do anything to have a piece of Paradise Valley and live my whole life here.”

“Well, that’s what we’re hoping for too, son.” Ma looked to Ted. Forty-five years of hard work had built this ranch, and the seeds of love blossomed into a helluva lot of richness. Hundreds of healthy animals were sold for great profits, and they had a cash crop of hay.

“We’re listening, Pa,” Hank said with a respectful nod.

“’preciate it, Hank. What we’re hoping is that you boys will go find some nice little gals to settle with.”

“Wait—what? Women?” Hank could barely get the shocked words out. On the spurs of his initial surprise was a tightening in his gut. He hadn’t been with a woman in too long. They were thin on the ground here, and he couldn’t think about driving into town in search of some late-night fun after putting in a sixteen-hour day.

“What your pa is saying, boys, is we want you to settle down. Take wives. Then you can have your piece of land to work as you see fit.”

“Is this a joke?” Cash asked.

Beck, who’d been quiet through most of this discussion, spoke up. “We can’t get the land until we’ve found wives?”

“That’s right. I knew you were a sharp tack, Beck.” Pa nodded at the brother who never remembered to remove his hat for dinner no matter how many times Momma scolded him. It sat on his head now, battered and slightly crooked.

“This is medieval. Why don’t you just choose our wives for us?” Witt burst.

“They’d never do that, Witt. Shut up and think about what they’re offering,” Kade said.

“Yeah, I’m thinking that I have a piece of land with my name on it—one I bust my ass working every day. And I’m willing to do that because I love this ranch.” He tapped the table lightly with his fingers. “But it doesn’t seem fair to dictate conditions like that. I suppose you’d tell us how to work our piece of ground too?”

“It would be yours to do as you wish. If you’d like to sell out to a subdivision, that’s your prerogative,” Pa said.

None of them would lay a finger to mar Paradise Valley Ranch in such a way. The Daltons loved having only cows for neighbors. The Guthries were too far away to count.

“I still say it’s medieval.” Witt settled against his chair back and folded his arms over his chest. His denim shirt buttons looked ready to pop.

“What if we can’t find a wife?” Hank asked.

“Then you wait to get your land. In the meantime, you’ll always have a place in this house, and I bet one of your brothers would need a ranch hand.”

“Screw this.” Witt exploded from his chair and stomped out of the room.

Cash rubbed a hand through his messy hair. “Which one of y’all came up with this scheme?”

“We decided together. Your momma believes you need the care of a good woman, and I believe the land needs a good man.”

“It’s not going to be easy, Pa. We rarely go into town. Driving an hour after putting in a full day’s work doesn’t appeal to any of us. Riding the bus to school for years was bad enough.” Hank looked at his brothers.

“Maybe I could find a woman if I hang out at the one stop light in Vixen,” Beck said.

“There’s always the market,” Cash added.

“That market has high prices,” Momma muttered.

“Don’t forget the coffee shop.” Hank’s lips quirked up. In their teen years, they’d prowled the coffee house, pretending to like dark roasts in order to lure women into believing they were more brooding than they were.

They’d also had plenty of fun in the back parking lot.

“Finding the perfect woman to fill your life with joy is never an easy task, Hank. But we believe there’s one for you. It’s time to get cleaned up, put on your Sunday best and go courtin’.”

“They don’t really call it courtin’ anymore, Pa.” Beck chuckled.

“Whatever you call it, get out there and get it done.” Pa’s face was stone. Once he had his mind set on something, there wasn’t a person in the state who could sway him. Well, maybe one—Momma.

Unfortunately, she was on his side.

* * *

The instant Charlotte pulled off the major highway and onto the quaint country road, she rolled the windows down. The smog and noise of Phoenix were far behind, leaving her deep in cowboy country. She hadn’t seen any of those beautiful, rugged men yet, but she’d passed plenty of fields and trucks galore.

With the cooler breeze teasing her brown curls, she hummed along to a tune on the radio she didn’t know. Back in Phoenix, she’d been as urban as they came—designer clothes, top salons.

Her boyfriend had the right hair, car and…well, that’s all she could say about Stephen.

In the past six months, Charlotte’s life had flipped sideways. She’d dumped the boyfriend, quit her stable job at as assistant manager at a high-end retail shop and fled her home in search of something new. Better. Calmer.

She was getting the hang of this country music. Every song seemed to be about a girl, truck, and beer. She let her mind wander down country lanes and into tall grasses. Cattle dotted the fields, and fences ran for miles. A good place for a fresh start, though she needed to find a city or at least a larger town to settle in.

As another tune trickled through the speakers of her old car, she drummed her fingers on the wheel and drank in the sun-kissed landscape. Too bad the sun couldn’t shine inside her heart, sweeping the shadows away.

Approaching a bend, she slowed.