The Reluctant Wrangler (2 page)

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

As they returned to the main building, both of them were silent. Leading her to the side door, he stopped and held it open for her.

“How many boys are here?” she asked when they came to the door of her apartment.

“Six.”

“That’s all?”

“I’ve been told there will be two or three more arriving later this month. You’re free to check out the horses in the barn on your own. If you have any questions, I’ll either be in my apartment or in the barn.”

“Which is your apartment?” she asked, looking down the hallway in the opposite direction.

“That one.” He pointed across from them, the doors of the two rooms facing each other. He sensed that an
explanation might be needed. “These rooms are closest to the cabins.”

She frowned, but nodded. “That makes sense. And thank you for the tour.”

When she held out her hand, he took it and found it to be warm, with a firm grip. He had to remind himself that he’d left his family’s marketing firm in Boston confused about his past and his future. No flings, no involvements, no attachments until he discovered who he really was and what he should do with the rest of his life. Jules and Tanner understood that his job at the Bent Tree was only temporary, but even he didn’t know for how long.

N
IKKI’S KNEES WERE
a little weak as she sank to the easy chair in the sitting room of her tiny apartment. She had vowed at a young age never to be taken in by good looks. But she would have had to be blind not to notice that Mac was a very attractive man, although she wouldn’t have called him the ranching type. Still, he was definitely stunning, in an arrogant and smooth sort of way. There was a cool detachment about him, more polished than the men she’d met, and—

She slammed her hands down on the arms of the chair and shoved to her feet. Enough! She might have to work with him and live in the same building, but that didn’t mean she had to be distracted by him. There were other, more important things she needed to focus on.

Checking her watch, she saw she had time to either take a look at the horses or decide what could be done with her apartment. Because she hadn’t even taken a peek at her bedroom, she decided to wait until later to get acquainted with the stock. By waiting, maybe she would get lucky and miss running into Mac.

She opened the door Jules had pointed to and
discovered a small room with a single bed and a bedside table. To her delight, the wall next to the door was devoted to closet space, with shelves for foldable clothes. Not that she needed a lot of room. Her clothing consisted of jeans and tops, with two or three dresses thrown in for special occasions, which were rare.

The bathroom was tiny, but every inch of space had been utilized with shelves and cupboards for personal items. The shower was roomy enough, and she made plans to take a long, hot one when the day came to an end.

Hearing a knock on her door, she hurried to open it and found Mac waiting in the hallway.

“The boys are out of classes early and ready to meet you.” His gaze skimmed over her, sending tiny shocks through her, but his expression revealed nothing of his thoughts and neither did his eyes.

Eager to meet the boys and be around others, she stepped into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her and locking it before following Mac. They walked silently to the outdoor dining area, where she could see six boys of various ages standing near a long table. As she and Mac drew closer, she saw that the table held trays of double-decker sandwiches and fresh vegetables and fruit, along with two large pitchers of milk.

“Boys,” Mac called to them. Four of the six turned to look at him, while the other two continued to pile their plates high, laughing and talking. “All of you,” he said more sharply.

The two boys stilled, then turned slowly, wide smiles on their faces. “Mr. Mac,” the taller of the two said, and raised his hand in a salute.

Glancing at Mac, Nikki saw him nod and noticed he still wasn’t smiling. Did he ever? Did it matter? Not to
her, but it might to the boys. The two boys’ smiles had dimmed, but they didn’t seem to be affected by Mac’s chilly attitude. She was also aware that the boy who had spoken was looking her up and down. She ignored it. Boys would always be boys.

“This is Miss Johannson,” Mac told them. “She’s your new housemother. Please show her the respect she deserves.”

“Hi,” she said when no one spoke.

“She’s an Indian,” one of the other boys said.

“Native American,” another said. “So what? I am, too. Well, half, anyway.”

Nikki smiled, hoping it wouldn’t take long to win their trust. “And so am I. My name is Nioka, but you can all call me Nikki. I’ll also be teaching you all how to ride.” She noted that they stood watching her closely and obviously needed some prodding. “Now it’s your turn to tell me your names.”

“I’m Billy Norton, and I’m twelve,” said the one who was half Native American.

“Hi, Billy,” she answered with a smile, which he returned with a friendly one. He was slim, with straight dark hair and dark eyes, and she guessed he wasn’t shy in any way.

When none of the others spoke, he jabbed the boy next to him with an elbow. “Your turn,” she heard him whisper.

“Ray Stewart,” said the second boy, giving Billy a quelling glance.

“How old are you, Ray?” she asked.

“Eleven last week.”

“We had a party,” one of the other boys added.

“Then happy birthday a little late, Ray.” He seemed
more like the quiet type than Billy, but didn’t have a problem being a little younger.

She looked at the next boy, one of the two who had waved at Mac. “And what’s your name?”

“Shamar Jackson,” he answered, pride in his dark eyes.

“How old are you, Shamar?”

“Thirteen.”

There was the hint of a swagger, and she smiled to herself. “Officially a teenager, then. Is that cool?”

He ducked his head and then raised it to grin at her. “Yeah. It’s cool.”

“And you?” she asked the one who had spoken to Mac first.

“Benito Martinez. Fifteen.” His chin went up as he met her gaze full-on. “And I don’t like horses.”

“That’s all right,” she told him. “Not everyone does. What do you like?”

“Basketball.”

“I’m Leon Jones,” the boy next to him said, claiming her attention before she could comment on Benito’s choice of sport. “And I’m fifteen, too.”

There was no lift to his chin as there had been with Benito, but she noted a spark of defiance in his dark eyes. She didn’t blame him or any of the boys for hard feelings they might have toward adults. She’d known several who’d experienced some of the same things that had led these boys into the court system. For some, it wasn’t a pretty world out there. She’d been lucky, even though she’d come from a broken family and hadn’t known her father. But she’d never had to fend for herself on the streets, as some of these boys might have.

“And what about you?” she asked the smallest of the
boys, who stood with his head lowered. “What’s your name?”

“Kirby,” he said without looking up.

“Kirby Miller. He’s eight,” Ray offered. “He’s the youngest.”

Kirby stood a little apart from the others, and she wondered if it was his choice or if the others kept their distance. “Do you like horses?” she asked.

He nodded, but still kept his head down. When he finally lifted it, she saw a two-inch horizontal scar across his left cheekbone. “But Mac said no riding yet.”

She looked up at Mac standing beside her. He must have read the question in her eyes, because his answer was a shrug. “We’re two horses short. As soon as Tanner and Dusty return, we’ll have enough so everyone can ride.”

“Of course,” she answered, and quickly turned away. Looking at him too closely wasn’t a good idea. His steely stare felt as if he could see inside her to her secrets. She couldn’t risk that. Instead, she flashed the boys a friendly smile, making sure to include Kirby. “Whatever Mac says. He’s the boss with the horses. But it’s great meeting all of you. I still have to learn the schedule here, but I hope we’ll all become good friends.”

Mac indicated it was time to leave, and she followed him away from the outdoor dining hall. They hadn’t gone far when she felt him touch her arm.

“Don’t expect to become friends with all of them,” he said, keeping his voice low, “and be careful how much and what kind of friend you become.”

She spun around, facing him, angry that he thought she was completely without common sense. “Let’s get something straight,” she said, more than ready to get this over with. “I’ve worked with all kinds of children. Little
ones, teenagers, boys, girls. Some had similar problems to those these boys have, and I’ve never had a bit of trouble. I know how to handle them. Maybe
you
should learn how.” Turning on her heel, she left him behind, not caring what he might have to say.

Hoping he wouldn’t follow her, she tried to calm herself by taking the long way back to the main building. If there was anything else he wanted to say to her, it could wait. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so sharp with him, but it didn’t matter what he thought of her. She was here to help boys who hadn’t had the advantages in life most kids did, not get involved in a relationship. Her job had to be her main focus, even more important than what had initially brought her here.

When she’d read about the Bent Tree Boys Ranch in a newspaper article, she knew she had to apply for a job. Jules O’Brien had apparently been impressed enough to hire her, and she’d liked Jules from the moment she’d met her. But it was Jules’s husband she was more interested in meeting. From the little her mother had told her, Tanner O’Brien was the older of the two brothers she’d never known.

“So what do you think of Nikki?”

Sitting at the O’Briens’ kitchen table that afternoon, Mac looked up from the depths of his coffee cup to see Jules standing at the sink. “If you think she’s qualified, why should I question it?”

Shaking her head, Jules sighed, but added a smile. “That’s not what I asked you.”

He shrugged and returned to stare at the dark brew before him. When he heard a chair slide on the floor, he didn’t bother to look up, knowing that Jules had joined him at the table. He also knew it meant she expected an answer. “I guess I don’t think anything.”

“Oh, come on, Mac. You can’t tell me that you missed how pretty she is,” Jules teased. “I know you better than that.”

Mac gave in, leaning back in his chair and meeting Jules’s gaze. “You do know me, maybe too well. But it doesn’t mean—”

“I didn’t ask if you’d fallen head over heels for her like you did with Missy Templeton when we were nine.”

Mac laughed. “You aren’t ever going to let me forget about that, are you?”

“Not on your life.”

Mac returned his attention to his coffee. “You did check out her credentials, right?”

“Nikki’s?” Jules asked. “Of course I did, and I was impressed. Not only does she know horses, she’s worked with troubled children. She’s had a taste of what some of the boys have lived with.” When Mac had no response, she continued. “You and I were lucky, Mac. We had two parents who cared about us and provided us with things others only dream of having.”

“Or three parents,” he muttered. He felt a hand on his and looked up to see her watching him, a worried frown on her face. “Sorry, it’s just on my mind a lot lately.”

She gave his hand a squeeze, and then released it. “I know that learning you were adopted by your dad and that he isn’t your biological father was a shock, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“It changed
me.
” He couldn’t look at her, even though she was the one person he knew he could trust. They’d known each other since they were seven years old, and she was like a sister to him and to Megan, his younger sister. But he still had trouble talking about how his parents had deceived him most of his life, turning that life upside down and leading him to where he was now.

“You’re still the same great guy I’ve always known,” Jules said, her voice soft and comforting. “A smart little boy who used to tease me and his sister unmercifully, until poor Megan was in tears, but who grew up to be a very intelligent and caring man.”

He looked at her and saw a smile of childhood bliss, and he smiled, too, at the memories. “I’m glad I came here. You were always the sensible one.”

“I’m glad you did, too, and I hope you stay for a long time.”

He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ve wasted
enough of your time,” he said, moving to the door. “We both have things to do.” But before he could walk out of the room, he stopped and turned back. “Thank you again, both you and Tanner, for giving me the job and a chance to figure out who I am.”

Jules shrugged. “We’re the ones who are thankful. Just be nice to Nikki, okay?”

Nodding, he slipped out, too many things on his mind to worry about a pretty girl. She might be the perfect distraction, but he wasn’t the kind of man to use women that way. The more he worried about his life and his future, the more confused he became. Had he been wrong to leave a very lucrative career when he learned he’d been lied to? He didn’t think so. But he still had doubts.

When his chores were finished, Mac chose to visit the kitchen in the main building, to enjoy his meal with some television. Or so he thought, until he discovered Nikki in the small kitchen, bent to examine the contents of the refrigerator. The view she provided wasn’t at all unattractive and definitely beat whatever was on the tube that evening.

“Hungry?” he asked, not really interested in conversation.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and faced him. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

He took a step back, giving her more space. “I thought you’d be having dinner with the boys, since you’re the housemother.”

“I thought it would be a good time to unload my belongings from my car,” she answered with a shrug. “I cleared it with Jules.” She closed the refrigerator, her hands empty, then stepped around him and out the door.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” he called to her as she
headed toward the main entrance. Having been raised to be a gentleman, he followed her and searched in the evening’s half-light to find her unlocking the door to an older Chevy.

“Is this all you have?” he asked when he caught up with her. There weren’t even ten boxes in all, along with a large suitcase.

She turned, one of the boxes in her arms. “Do I need more?”

“You need what you need. It’s simply that—” He shook his head. Not that he cared, but there was no reason he couldn’t be a gentleman and help her. “Never mind. Give me the box. You can take the smaller one.”

She hesitated for a moment, then handed him the box before turning to get another. “Just set it outside the door of my room.”

He did, and they didn’t speak again until the car was unloaded.

When they were finished, she turned to him. “Thank you for helping,” she told him. “It made less work for me. I can get the rest.”

“Are you sure?” He leaned his shoulder against the wall, while she attempted to open her door. Noting that she was having some difficulty with her key, he gently took it from her, their hands brushing in the exchange. He felt warmth from only the whisper of the touch and quickly reminded himself that it was simply chemistry between a male and female. It meant nothing, but he wondered if she’d felt it, too.

“Tell me where you want the boxes,” he said, opening the door and handing her the key.

She hesitated as if he’d offered more than a little help. “You don’t have to do this,” she said.

Picking up the first of the boxes, he shrugged. “I don’t have anything else do to.” It wasn’t a lie. Spending the evening alone watching boring television programs that he didn’t care about suddenly didn’t appeal to him at all.

“Over there is fine.” She pointed to a corner near the sofa, then stepped outside the room to grab the suitcase, which she took to the bedroom. Reappearing immediately, she lowered herself to the floor and began opening the first box, while he brought in the others.

When he’d carried all the boxes into the room, he watched as she pulled out a large pottery vase. “Was it hard choosing?” he asked.

She looked up at him from her place on the floor. “Choosing?”

“What to bring.”

He barely heard her low-throated chuckle, and then she looked up with a slight smile. “This is it,” she said, spreading her arms to indicate the boxes. “This is everything.”

He was surprised. The boxes weren’t large and couldn’t hold much. There weren’t even a dozen of them. “You weren’t allowed to keep much where you last lived?”

She shrugged. “I’ve moved around quite a bit.”

He nodded. “Too much trucking it all back and forth.”

She went back to her unpacking. “Something like that.”

“That vase,” he said, pointing to the one she had taken out. “Is that handmade?”

Nodding, she picked it up again and ran her finger along the design on it. “By my grandmother when she was very young.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“She loved making pottery.”

“Did she teach you how?”

“Yes, but I’m not nearly as good as she was.” Gently placing it aside, she then pulled out a polished wood carving of a horse and held it out to him. “My grandfather made this not long before he died.”

Mac took it from her and admired the perfection of it. He knew enough about art to appreciate it. The wood was obviously hand polished and glowed in the artificial light in the room. It was as smooth as satin and warm to the touch. “This is priceless.” He glanced at her. “But, of course, you know that.”

“He liked jewelry making better,” she replied, taking the carving and setting it behind her. “Silver, of course.”

“And turquoise? Like your ring?” He pointed to her right hand.

She nodded. “Whatever was available, but he often painted pictures on them, instead. Belt buckles, earrings, bracelets. I have a few, if you’d like to see them sometime. The Cherokee take pride in their artistry.”

“I’d like that,” he replied. “Did you live on the reservation?”

Shaking her head, she looked up at him. “There is no reservation. Those were disestablished years ago.”

“Disestablished?” he asked.

“Done away with,” she said with a shrug, and went back to her unpacking.

Feeling he was no longer needed, he stepped back. “I’ll let you get your unpacking done.”

Tilting her head to the side, she studied him. “Thanks for helping.” Then she turned her attention to the boxes.

He left quietly, closing the door behind him, and went to the kitchen, but his mind didn’t stray far from her while he fixed a sandwich. He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt. He couldn’t explain it, either. Pretty or not, she wasn’t his type. He’d always preferred the more sophisticated, and there was nothing like that about Nikki Johannson. In fact, she was the antithesis of a sophisticate. But still…

“It’s nothing serious,” he told himself as he walked into his apartment. The attraction was fleeting and wouldn’t last. Until then, he’d do as Jules asked and be nice to her, but that was all.

“D
O YOU HAVE THE LIST
?” Mac stood at the passenger door of the pickup and waited until Nikki nodded before closing it.

She watched him walk around the front, then she turned to look out her window as he climbed inside. She wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to help her into the truck—she could do it fine on her own—but she suspected it wouldn’t make any difference. He seemed to be the kind of man who did it automatically.

Leaning back in the seat, she tried to enjoy the drive into Desperation. But even the fall colors of the countryside couldn’t distract her thoughts. How did a man like Mac come to work as a ranch hand in Oklahoma? He wore blue jeans, but no Western-style shirts. Instead of even a T-shirt, he wore knit sport shirts. Glancing at his foot on the accelerator, she wondered where he bought his boots. Most stores in Oklahoma sold traditional cowboy boots, but Mac’s weren’t traditional. His were round toed, not pointed, and without the common angled heel of cowboy boots. Even the leather was smooth. And
she had never seen him wear a hat over his longish, light brown hair, much less a Stetson.

No, he wasn’t a cowboy, but she had watched him work with the stock the day before, and there was no doubt in her mind that he knew horses. Whether he knew boys or not remained to be seen.

“Have you thought about when you want to start the boys’ riding lessons?”

Nikki jumped at the sound of his voice, then shrugged in answer to his question. “Being short on horses presents a problem, but I’ve been thinking it might be best to start with the basics.”

“Such as?” he asked, glancing at her.

“Saddling a horse, first of all. Just being around one, too.”

“You’re right. The boys are pretty green,” he agreed. “Teach the basics first, before they ever climb on an animal.”

“Any idea when the new horses will be here?”

“Tomorrow or the next day would be my guess.”

Nodding, Nikki was hesitant to dive into something Mac, as head wrangler, might not approve of, but if she wanted to get started, now was the time. “Maybe I can start this afternoon.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Surprised that he didn’t argue, she smiled. “I’ll only need one horse today, and I’ll leave the choice to you.” But Mac simply nodded in answer, and she chalked it up to whatever burr was under his saddle.

As they approached the edge of town, Mac pulled up to the local grain elevator and backed the pickup to a loading dock. Nikki climbed out immediately, removing any chance for him to come around and open the door for her. They were working, so it wasn’t time for his
gallantry, if it ever was, and she didn’t want anyone in the town of Desperation to think she was some kind of debutante. Not that one look at her would give anyone that idea.

A man who appeared to be in his late fifties and was dressed in jeans, real cowboy boots and a blue work shirt came out of the office and joined them on the dock. “Morning, Mac,” he said, glancing at Nikki.

Mac must have noticed, because he turned to her. “Nikki, this is Tom Hastings. He runs the place, so if you ever need anything here, talk to him. Tom, this is Nikki Johannson, the Bent Tree’s new housemother and riding instructor.”

“Pleased to meet you, miss,” the man said, flashing her a smile.

“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Hastings,” Nikki answered.

“Call me Tom. Mr. Hastings is my father.” He turned back to Mac. “How many horses you got out there, Mac? Jules wasn’t sure how much grain you might need, especially with the grass still a bit green.”

“Five horses right now,” Mac said, and followed him into the warehouse. “Jules likes to have extra, and what’s in the bin is getting low.”

Nikki lengthened her stride to keep up with the men and stepped into the chilly, semidark warehouse, where the smell of bagged grain greeted her. She was glad she’d chosen to wear a long-sleeved shirt. Too much grain dust kicked up her allergies and made her skin itch.

“Tanner and Dusty will be back with a few more horses soon,” Mac was saying to Tom, “but I don’t know how many they’ll be bringing with them.”

“I heard they were headed for a sale in New Mexico,” Tom answered before climbing on a forklift. “I’d say
maybe twenty bags for now? You can always get more later if you need it. The O’Briens have always been good to their stock. If it’s too much, it can be saved or you can bring it back.”

“Twenty sounds good for now,” Mac agreed. He motioned for Nikki to follow him, and they returned to the loading dock.

She climbed into the bed of the truck to wait for Tom. When he drove the forklift out onto the dock, she worked with Mac, restacking the fifty-pound bags. It wasn’t long before Tom returned with the last load, and she and Mac finished the job quickly.