Heartbreak Ranch (2 page)

Graysen set her suitcase down near one of the oversized leather chairs and walked into the bedroom. The lighting was soft. White eyelet lace curtains hung at the bedroom window. Matching patchwork quilts fashioned from bright calico strips adorned the twin beds in the center of the room. She chose the one closest to the window. After her
Princess and the Pea
moment last night in Nebraska, Graysen decided to test out the bed. Thankfully, it felt quite comfy. She brushed the window curtain to the side and looked out into the night. In the dying light, Graysen could still make out shadowy figures of men on horseback leading the cattle back into the stables. Small, colorful orbs in hues of gold, sapphire, and ruby hung in the air between the buildings and gave off a soft glow in the Wyoming sky.

Graysen stared out the window, transfixed by the simple beauty of the paper lanterns as her mother joined her.

“You know everyone gets together at that main lodge at night. There is music and dancing. I think we should go tonight. It will be fun!”

“Tonight, really? Don’t we need to unpack?” Graysen’s tone made it clear how she felt; she was less than enthused about the prospect of socializing with a bunch of cowboys and tourists.

“You know, Gray, after being trapped in the car for the past two days, I would think you’d want to look around for a bit,” Mrs. Beaufort smiled with the knowing grin only a mother could have.

She did have a point. A few minutes later, the Beauforts were heading into the main ranch house. It certainly wasn’t what Graysen was expecting. The house looked large from the outside, but inside it seemed even more so with its cathedral ceilings and floor-to-ceiling rough-hewn stone fireplace. It looked like a large hunting lodge. People danced in the center of the large room as a fiddle band played. There was a bar off to the side. Waitresses donning western attire served food and drinks. The walls were covered in knotty pine paneling and decorated with hunting trophies and pictures of the ranch from years ago.

A man in his mid-fifties with a rangy physique and a thick, salt-and-pepper horseshoe moustache shuffled over from the bar to greet them.

“You must be the Beaufort family.” He spoke with a resonant Western drawl that reminded Graysen of Sam Elliott. He introduced himself as the ranch owner and offered them a welcoming, broad smile. “I’m Heck Edmiston. We’re all pleased as Punch to have you here. Make sure and let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant.”

“These are our daughters, Graysen and Harper,” Ellen Beaufort introduced her daughters to Mr. Edmiston, thrilled that the owner of the ranch himself was getting to know them. “And my son Carson is over at the bar. We’ve been driving since yesterday evening and all day today from Iowa, but we didn’t want to miss out on all the excitement going on in here,” she continued. The man looked tough, but once he started talking he exuded an amiable charm.

“This kind of shindig goes on every night and usually lasts for a while. It’s a great way to make new friends. You all make yourselves at home. Don’t forget to get up early tomorrow for the trail rides.” Mr. Edmiston smiled. After a few more minutes of chatter, he went over to greet other guests.

Chase Beaufort led his beautiful wife, Ellen, out onto the dance floor. “Which one of you lovely young ladies wants to be the first to dance with me?” Carson was back from the bar, beer in hand. Harper looked at Graysen with a pleading smile. She was anxious to get out on the dance floor.

“You guys go ahead and dance the night away,” Graysen replied, relieved. The last thing she wanted to do right now was show off how gloriously awful she was on the dance floor. She grew hot under the bright lights of the lodge. The loud music wasn’t helping matters. “I’m just going to wander out to the porch and get some air,” Graysen responded, trying to sound as though she was enjoying herself. She wasn’t.

The lodge’s wraparound porch was a welcome refuge from the crowded, noisy main room of the main house. Graysen leaned against the railing and took a deep breath of the fresh country air. The ranch was more deserted now than it had been earlier. She took in the night sky and was in awe of how brightly the stars shone. Des Moines, although not an immense metropolis like Chicago or New York City, still had enough city lights to dull the beautiful stars.

But then something more intriguing, and dare she say even more striking than the night sky, caught her attention. A short distance away a lone horse was running through a corral. The midnight black stallion was bucking wildly and furiously tossing its head. It seemed to be hell-bent on throwing the rider. The fenced area was well lit, but it was still far enough away and dark enough to make it difficult for Graysen to make out much detail. She took a quick glance back inside the lodge where her family was laughing and dancing and decided that walking closer to the corral to get a better look wasn’t going to hurt. Watching an unbroken horse try and kill someone seemed much more entertaining than what was going on in the lodge.

Graysen broke away from the lodge and made her way toward the corral. She didn’t think anyone saw her because away from the lights of the lodge, it was almost pitch-black. She hid in the shadows behind the edge of the weathered, red barn stationed next to the corral that kept the wild horse confined. She stood there quietly and poked her head around the corner.

Graysen’s breath hitched in her throat when she got a better glimpse of the man trying to tame the wild horse. The most dangerously handsome man she had ever seen sat atop the mount. His hair was as black as night and he was tall, easily a few inches better than six feet. He was bare-chested, and even though the night air held a chill, his tanned skin glistened with the physical exertion of training a horse. All she could see were broad shoulders and lean, hard muscle, rippling and straining in an effort to handle the untamed beast. His legs tensed under his faded jeans as his cowboy boots dug into the sides of the horse. She grew weak-kneed at the animal litheness of his movements. She clutched the side of the barn as though she were hanging on to keep herself from slipping off the edge of the earth.

When he turned the horse around, his face came clearly into view. Graysen only caught a glimpse of it before she quickly tucked herself behind the wall of the barn so he couldn’t see her.
A glimpse isn’t going to be enough.
The pitch-black night bolstered Graysen’s courage to get a better look at the cowboy. He exuded pure masculinity. There was not an ounce of anything that would soften the rough edges. She could see the determination that gripped his face. Fixed in concentration, he looked to be savoring every challenging moment.

Completely absorbed, Graysen stood there watching him for several minutes. The horse finally started to settle down. Five more minutes passed before the man swung his leg over the saddle and jumped off the steed. Holding the reins firmly in his hand, he started stroking the horse’s mane, gently trying to soothe it. His voice was low, deep and smooth. Watching his strong hands expertly guide the reins and rub the horse’s neck, Graysen fantasized what it would be like to have those hardworking hands on her body. Her heart gave a hard knock as she thought of the electrifying combination of rough and tender. As she watched him expertly handle the horse, she became acutely aware of her own body; a hot, heavy sensation expanded in her belly.

The cowboy started walking the horse toward the stables; the exact ones she was hiding near. Snapping out of her fantasy world, Graysen knew she needed to get back to the lodge or risk being found by the handsome horse trainer. Once he slipped inside the barn with the horse, she hurried back to join her family, mulling over what she had just watched.

A little zip of excitement coursed through her body. Suddenly this vacation held some promise. If all the ranch hands were as handsome as he was, these two weeks might be bearable. Returning to the lodge, Graysen discovered she had been missed. Carson, who was nursing another beer just inside the main room, questioned her as though she had missed curfew.

“Where have you been?” he snapped. Carson was a responsible and intelligent man, except when it came to protecting his younger sisters.

“I needed some air. It was too crowded in the lodge, so I went for a quick walk,” she said, failing to sound casual. “Where is everyone?” Graysen asked, desperate to change the subject.

Carson raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Around here somewhere. Harper was two-stepping with Dad the last time I spotted them. Mom is over there chatting with a new friend.”

As Carson responded, Graysen noticed her mother talking with a slightly older woman. The woman was tall, wore her silver-threaded hair in large, soft curls, and like everyone else in the place, she wore cowboy boots and jeans. Graysen’s mom spotted her children and gestured for them to join her.

“Carson and Graysen, this is Mr. Edmiston’s wife, June.” Ellen Beaufort introduced her two oldest children to her new acquaintance.

“It is great to meet the two of you.” June smiled as she greeted them. “It’s not often we get visitors from Iowa at this place. Usually it’s mostly folks from Wyoming and some from Arizona and Texas. I’m surprised y’all are interested in vacationing at a ranch.”

Trust me, I’m not.
Graysen wanted to let her thoughts escape her mouth, but she smiled and politely nodded instead. Mrs. Edmiston seemed polite and welcoming. Graysen felt the least she could do was pretend to want to be there. Despite the intriguing scenery at the corral moments earlier, two weeks still seemed like a lifetime.

***

Two Damned Weeks
. Rancher Colt McCord kicked the dusty ground outside the barns with his scuffed boots and cussed. It had been two weeks since he’d started working with the black stallion and he had very few results to show for his efforts. He brushed the dirt from his faded Wranglers and moved his hand over his jaw. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a kerchief and slid it into his back jeans pocket. He’d done a day’s work and then some and he was in need of a quick drink, a hot shower, and a soft pillow.

Colt had spent the better part of the day separating cattle with Lance and Wyatt. By the time they had herded the neighboring ranch’s cattle back to their own land, the sun was sinking. He spent the evening in the corral with the wild horse, making an attempt to break him in more. The black beast of an animal kept bucking at every turn. He knew his muscles would be begging for mercy by the time dawn rolled around. Sweat trickled down his back and arms as he slid his shirt back on, reminding him how satisfying a hot shower was going to feel. Summer was barely underway, and the temperatures were soaring during the day. July and August promised to be scorchers.

He pushed his way through the doors of the main lodge, intent on quenching his thirst. As he made his way to the bar, he spotted Miss June chatting with a bunch of guests. He pulled his hat down tightly in an attempt to conceal himself from her. Dead tired, dirty, and thirsty, he wasn’t in any mood to socialize. He’d never been one for large crowds. He fully admitted to himself that he was unsocial. He couldn’t stand making small talk with the guests.

As Colt took a couple of refreshing sips from his bottle of beer and relaxed a bit, he forgot that he was trying to hide out from Miss June. He turned around, elbows propped against the bar top, and surveyed the packed room. It looked like another typical night at White Pine Ranch. Men ripe for midlife crises with boyhood notions of Cowboys and Indians were dragging their bored wives and children out to the once-wild West to play cowboy for a few days. It looked like a scene straight out of the movie
City Slickers
. All that was missing was Jack Palance’s gravelly voice. His attempt to escape unnoticed from the lodge was foiled shortly after he turned around.

“Ah, Colt! There you are!” June Edmiston yelled across the room with a glowing, happy look on her face, and motioned for him to join her and the guests.

Murmuring a few choice expletives under his breath, angry with himself for blowing his admittedly shoddy cover, Colt signaled to her that he would be over in a minute. He took a few more swallows of his Budweiser, trying to steel himself against the coming onslaught of ridiculous touristy questions that would no doubt be lobbed in his direction the moment he joined the conversation.

His eyes travelled over to the group of people surrounding June. She was probably explaining the ins and outs of the ranch to some family. His attention locked on the younger woman in the group of tourists. She was petite with full curves, ample hips and lush breasts in a clingy dress. Her dark hair fell in waves down past her shoulders. She turned suddenly, and Colt saw her face for the first time. She was disheveled, and the way she was dressed made her stick out like a sore thumb, but she looked like an angel. She wasn’t like most of the women that found themselves on White Pine Ranch; at least none that he recalled.

At twenty-eight, Colt thought he had figured out a thing or two about women, but he was still a sucker for big eyes and sweet smiles. This young woman chatting politely with Miss June was beautiful. Although those large whiskey-brown eyes and that soft, full ruby mouth of hers were enough to turn heads, it was the warm smile she flashed that made his heart thrum more quickly. One thing Colt had learned: all women were damned stunning when they smiled sincerely. He firmly believed that a woman’s smile revealed a lot about her personality. In the brunette’s case, he could see good humor, intelligence, and feistiness. Colt’s heart thumped like hooves on dry ground as she gazed across the room at him. It had been ages since a woman had interested him enough to get a closer look.

***

Graysen did her best to look interested and engaged in what her mother and Mrs. Edmiston were talking about, but the conversation seemed to drone on and on. The mindless chatter about trail rides and barbeque and fishing mingled with the incessant strains of fiddle music. The combination lulled Graysen into an almost hypnotic trance, and she allowed her mind to revisit the sights that had her pulse racing moments ago. As Carson, her mother, and June Edmiston continued to talk about all things White Pine, Graysen fantasized about the horse trainer.