Wrangling the Cowboy's Heart (3 page)

Jodie clutched the paper, stifling her annoyance. “This is so typical of Dad. Has he ever given us anything without a proviso attached? It seems as if every job or chore he wanted us to do was issued as a nonnegotiable decree.”

“You might be reading more into this than meets the eye,” Lauren replied, ever the peacemaker. “You and Dad always had a volatile relationship.”

Lauren knew only the half of it. When she and Erin turned eighteen, they'd stopped coming to the ranch. Both had gone to college and took on summer jobs, leaving Jodie to spend two more summers alone with their father. They'd fought at every turn, Jodie often on the receiving end of his anger.

She tamped down the memories, as she always did when they threatened.

And how are you going to keep them at bay for two months if you stay?

“I always figured Dad and I never got along because I was the only one who got to see the big fight that changed everything,” Jodie said, fingering one edge of the letter.

Jodie had been in the barn loft, playing with kittens, when she'd heard her parents' raised voices below her. She'd come down to see her father yelling at their mother to leave the ranch and take her daughters with her. Jodie, shocked and defensive of her mom, had yelled at him not to talk to her that way. But he'd ignored her, walking away. Her mother and sisters had left the ranch the next day and Jodie had never forgiven him. She was only seven at the time.

“It didn't help that you always egged him on,” Lauren continued.

“It also didn't help that he never believed me when I told him I'd just been out with friends, and not partying like he always accused me of.”

“Well, you were partying, toward the end.”

“Only because I figured I may as well do what he always accused me of, and have fun.”

“Was it fun?”

Jodie caught the unspoken reprimand in her sister's tone and looked down at the letter.

It was an echo of the one she'd voiced whenever Jodie had tried to tell her sisters about what had really happened those summers alone on the ranch. They'd often questioned her, citing the steady antagonism between Jodie and her father as the reason. So she'd kept her mouth shut, endured her father's alternating stony silences and spewing anger.

And, increasingly, his physical punishment.

“So what do we do about this?” Jodie said, resting her elbows on the scarred Formica table.

“I'm too busy to take two months away from work,” Lauren said, clutching her coffee mug. “Things are too iffy with my job. Would it stand up in court if we don't agree to the terms of the letter? Could we still sell the ranch and get the money?”

“This document was verified by the lawyer...” Jodie let the sentence fade away as she skimmed the letter again. Her father's distinct scrawl covered the page, and below that was a note from Drake Neubauer proving this was indeed Keith McCauley's handwriting and that this was a legal and binding document. “I can see why Dad wanted us to read this after the funeral. I'm sure if I heard it before, I would have had a hard time concentrating on the service.”

Not that Finn's presence had made it easier.

“What do you suppose the ranch is worth?” Lauren asked.

“Enough to help us out in our own ventures, I would guess,” Jodie said. “Might be something you'd want to look into before you decide you can't do this.”

“And you?”

Jodie shrugged. “Money's never been that important to me.”

Lauren looked as if she was about to say something more when their waitress brought a bowl of soup and a salad for Lauren, pizza and onion rings for Jodie.

“That is the most unhealthy combination of foods I can imagine,” Lauren sniffed as the waitress left.

“It feeds my soul as well as my stomach,” Jodie said, grabbing the bottle of ketchup to douse her onion rings. “Comfort food.”

“I guess we could both use some of that.” Lauren gave her a rueful smile, then bowed her head.

With a guilty start Jodie realized her sister was praying a silent blessing over her food. Belatedly she followed suit.

Forgive me, Lord
, she prayed.
I haven't talked a lot to You lately. I'm sorry. I haven't felt as if I have the right. My life's been a mess, so I guess I could use some help there.
Regret and remorse rose up again as the memories surfaced. But she caught herself in time. The past was done, even though the pain and repercussions lingered.

She finished her prayer with a thank-you for her food.

“So tell me about this music gig you'll be doing?” Lauren asked. “Any future in it?”

Trust her to cut to the chase. Ever the older sister, Lauren had always been after Jodie to find something that gave her a career.

“It's not a huge job and there's no guarantee,” Jodie said. “But if it goes well, there's a good chance that the band will open for this new breakout group. We might be touring with them.”

“
Might
be.”

Jodie waved off Lauren's comment. “Everything in this business is hearsay or odds. Besides, I'll find work waitressing if I need to fill in any gaps.”

“And what about your composing? Would you be able to keep doing that?”

“I don't know if I'd have the time,” Jodie said, feeling a vague pang. “If this gig doesn't happen, I'll work enough to save up for a trip to Thailand. Maybe write some music there.”

“Running again?”

Jodie felt a flare of indignation at the censure in her sister's voice. “It's called traveling. Expanding your horizons. You should try it sometime instead of tying yourself to your job.”

“My job gives me security. Something you don't seem to have. Besides, I don't know how you can afford all these trips.”

“Simple. No obligations. Nothing pinning me down. Free as a bird.” Jodie waved her hand as if underlining her mantra. “Driving an old car and taking in tips help.”

“You'll never settle down, living the life you do. You'll never find anyone.”

“Don't need anyone. Not after Lane.”

“Lane was a mistake. I don't think the two of you were suited to each other.”

Though she knew Lauren was right, her sister's comment struck at Jodie's latent insecurities. It had taken her almost a year to get past the anger and pain she felt when her former fiancé had broken up with her.

He had asked for his ring back after he saw a stranger flirting with Jodie while she worked her second job, playing piano at a bar.

Lane had always wanted her to quit that job. He'd felt that, as the son of a US senator, he had a reputation to uphold.

But Jodie knew she had no other marketable skills. She valued her independence and the money she made, so she'd stayed with it. Then one night one of her regular patrons had sat down beside her, put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek just as Lane had come in. Jodie had denied there was anything going on between them, but Lane had chosen not to believe her and had asked for his ring back.

Two weeks later she'd found out he was dating the daughter of a minister. A much more suitable woman for someone like him.

Jodie hadn't been in a serious relationship since.

“You deserve someone who accepts you for who you are,” Lauren continued.

“Doesn't matter.” She shrugged off her sister's protests. “Since I haven't found anyone who interests me enough to think of settling down, I prefer to be the one in charge. Be the one walking away.”

As soon as the words left her lips, she realized how they might sound to her sister, whose fiancé had walked away from her the morning of their wedding.

“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn't mean to say that.”

“Doesn't matter,” Lauren muttered, but Jodie could see from the tightness around her lips that it did. Jodie had been with her sister when she'd gotten the news. Lauren had been just about to put on her wedding dress. Instead, her normally composed sister had kicked it aside, tossed her bouquet down and stormed out of the room, leaving Erin and Jodie to take care of all the details.

“Anyway, I don't want to be tied down.”

“Well, with the life you live, you don't have time to give anyone else a chance,” Lauren said, lifting her head. “Maybe staying in one place for two months might be just what you need.”

Much as Jodie trumpeted her freedom, the idea of being at the ranch held a reluctant allure. The past couple years she'd had a curious yearning, the strange feeling that she'd been missing something. The trips, the traveling, the work—nothing satisfied her as it used to. She couldn't quite put her finger on why.

“And maybe, if you stay in one place, you might have time to spend with Finn again,” Lauren continued.

Jodie started. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw how you watched him at the funeral service, and then the reception after,” Lauren said, giving her sister a vague smile.

“I was thinking about how he stopped me for speeding.”

“Oh, c'mon. He was just doing his job. And look how sweet he is, chatting up the locals over at the other table.”

Finn was here? Jodie couldn't resist a glance over her shoulder.

Deputy Hicks stood by a table, talking with a group of older women. He seemed to dominate the space, his back ramrod straight, his white shirt and blue jeans softening his military stance. It shouldn't surprise her that Finn had ended up in law enforcement. The man had made no secret of his admiration for her father.

“A little too ‘serve and protect' for my liking. Like Dad. No, thanks,” she said, with what she hoped was a dismissive tone.

Then Finn turned around and looked her way. Their eyes met across the distance and his expression altered. In that moment Jodie felt a whisper of the old attraction.

No. Not for you
, she told herself.
You and guys equal disaster
. Especially someone like Finn.

She dragged her eyes away, focusing on her onion rings. Then felt Lauren's foot nudging her under the table. “He's coming this way,” she hissed. “Fix your lipstick.”

Jodie gave her sister the evil eye, hoping she got the message—Not Interested.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Finn said, looking from Jodie to Lauren. “I thought I would come by to say hello again. Hope this day wasn't too difficult for you. I know it didn't start off the best.”

He caught Jodie's eye and she knew he referred to their interaction this morning. She blushed, thinking of her smart remarks, but brushed the memory aside.

“We'll get through it.” She gave him a polite smile.

“I didn't have time to tell you after the funeral, but I wanted to say how thankful I always was for your father's support. He was a good man. He missed you girls a lot. He often spoke about you and how he wished you could visit more often.”

Jodie took a moment to respond to that, then felt another nudge from her sister's toe.

“I'm sure he did,” she finally replied. “It's been difficult to find time to come.”

Her empty words sounded shallow, even to her. She'd managed to find time to go to Asia, India and Paris, but not a trip to Saddlebank? But she wasn't about to apologize for her lack of filial duty.

“I also thought I should let you know that Vic and I will be coming to your place tomorrow. Your dad let Vic pasture a bunch of his horses there, and we want to sort them out of your father's herd. I wanted to give you a heads up in case you're wondering what's going on.”

“Thanks for telling us,” Lauren said. “Jodie will be staying at the ranch, so if you need anything you can ask her.”

Jodie pushed her sister's foot this time, but Lauren smiled, ignoring her.

“I think we'll be okay. And I wish you girls the best,” he said, looking from one to the other. “Hope settling the estate won't be too painful and you manage to find some happier memories.” Just before he left, his eyes met Jodie's.

And for a heartbeat their gazes locked and she wondered if he was referring to their shared past.

Then he put his hat back on his head and left. The moment was gone.

Jodie grabbed an onion ring and swiped it through the pile of ketchup on her plate, surprised at the emotions churning through her where Finn was concerned.

Lauren leaned forward, her eyes glinting with amusement. “I think he still likes you. I saw how he stared at you now.”

“You saw what you wanted to see. I saw a man who thinks we're lousy daughters who didn't visit a man he thought the sun rose and set on.”

“He was just making conversation. He still seems interested in you.”

“Maybe it was you he was interested in,” Jodie countered. “I was the one that stood him up, remember? Besides, he's a deputy now. Not the kind of guy I'd be attracted to. Been there, done that.”

“Not all men are like Dad, you know,” Lauren said. “And not all men are like Lane. Once upon a time you were attracted to Finn.”

Jodie's only answer was to take a bite of her pizza. Her sister was right, but she wasn't about to let someone like Finn into her life again.

He was too much a reminder of all that she had lost. All that her father had taken away. And she couldn't let herself feel that vulnerable again.

Chapter Three

J
odie stepped into the house, déjà vu washing over her as the faintest scent of onions and bacon, her father's favorite foods, wafted past her. Vague evidence that he had been here only a week ago.

Pain clenched her heart. Pain and regret, coupled with a wish that Lauren could have come with her to the Rocking M.

Her sister had had to leave early this morning to catch a plane, so last night they'd stayed in Saddlebank's only motel, then gone their separate ways at dawn.

Jodie toed off her boots and put them on the shelf under the coatrack. She set her suitcase on the old wooden bench, as she and her sisters always did the day they arrived at the ranch. For a fraction of a moment loneliness nudged her at the sight of her lone suitcase. There should be two more.

She paused, listening, but the only sounds in the stillness were the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room and the hum of the refrigerator in the rear.

Hugging herself, she walked through the house to the kitchen. A breakfast bar bisected the space, separating the cooking area from the rest of the room. She and her sisters had spent a lot of time there, laughing as they created unique meals using the minimal ingredients available to them. Their father had never been big on shopping.

A large room took up the far end of the house, the ceiling soaring two stories high. The dining room table with its five mismatched chairs filled one side, while couches and a couple recliners huddled around the stone fireplace on the far wall, flanked by two large bay windows.

A baby grand piano, covered with a flowered sheet, took up the far corner of the room. Jodie was surprised her dad still had it. It was an older one from her aunt Laura, who used to teach piano.

Jodie's smile faded as she looked toward the closed door of her father's office.

How many times had he pulled her into that room, ordered her to sit in the chair and listen? How many lectures had she endured, with him pounding his fist on the desk, telling her she was a disgrace to his good name? It didn't take much to resurrect his angry voice berating her, the sting of his hand on her cheek.

She spun away from the office, striding toward the living room as if outrunning the hurtful memories. She stopped at the window overlooking the yard. From there she saw the wooden fences of the corrals edging the rolling green pastures. Beyond them stood the mountains, snow still clinging to the peaks even in summer.

During the days of stifling heat in Knoxville, she'd definitely missed the mountains and the open spaces of this ranch. She fingered the curtain, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window, the usual daydreams assaulting her. Travel, moving, being in charge of where she went instead of working around other people's plans for her life. She had spent most of her childhood going where others told her to go, being who others told her to be. Now she was stuck here for a couple months, once again, her situation being dictated by her father.

She could leave. She knew that. Forfeit her right to a portion of the ranch. But she also knew the reality of her situation. Any money she got from selling the ranch would be a huge benefit. Touring wouldn't be the financial hardship it usually was.

And what would Dad think of that?

She pushed aside the guilt and mixed feelings that had been her steady companions since her father died, then walked over to the piano and pulled the sheet off, sneezing at the dust cloud she created. Lifting the lid, she propped it open, raised the fallboard covering the keys and sat down at the bench.

She ran a few scales, the notes echoing in the emptiness. Surprisingly, the piano was still reasonably in tune.

Her fingers unerringly found the notes of “Für Elise,” one of the first pieces she had ever performed, and its haunting melody filled the silence as memories assailed her.

Sitting at this same piano, her pudgy fingers plinking out notes of the scales as her sisters played outside. Often her time at the piano was punishment for one of her many misdeeds. Between the musical aptitude her grandmother tried to nurture and the many times Jodie got into trouble, she'd spent a lot of time at the keyboard.

But while music had, initially, been a burden, it had eventually became a release. She took her skills and applied them to writing music, something that she enjoyed.

And now, as she played in her childhood home once again, the music transported her to better times, better memories.

The light from the window fell across the keys and, as she often did when she was playing, she looked at the scar on the back of her right hand and how it rippled as she played.

Jodie abruptly dropped her hands to her lap, one covering the other, the music generating an ache for the losses in her life. Of her mother, when she was only nine. The loss of her plans and dreams in high school. The death of her grandmother a few years ago, and now her father.

She was here for two months. But once those months were done, she was gone. And after that?

She closed the lid on the piano with a
thunk
and got up from the bench. She had learned it never helped to plan too far ahead. That way lay only disappointment and pain.

* * *

Finn rode his horse through the corral gate, closed it and then rode up beside Jodie standing by the corral fence. He and Vic had spent a good part of the day gathering Keith's horses from the far pastures of the Rocking M.

Jodie had her arms hooked over the top rail, looking the herd over. Yesterday, at the funeral and later, at the café, she'd seemed shut off. Distant. He put it down to the funeral.

But today she looked more relaxed.

When they'd had arrived at the ranch, Vic had gone up to the house to let her know they were there. To Finn's surprise, Jodie had been waiting at the corrals when they returned with the horses. It had taken some time to get them in the old corrals, and Jodie had helped, opening the gates and closing them behind them.

Now Finn found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her and her thick dark hair shining in the afternoon sun. It flowed over the shoulders of the pink tunic she wore, a flash of bright color against her turquoise-and-purple-patterned skirt. It was the kind of outfit Jodie always favored—different and unusual and just a little out there.

“So how many of these horses belong to my father and how many to Vic?” Jodie asked.

“I think about half of the bunch are Vic's,” Finn said, forcing himself to focus on the job at hand, as he dismounted from his horse and tied it up to the fence with a neat bowline knot. It was early afternoon, but the sun was gathering strength.

He and Vic had spent the morning riding the backcountry of the ranch, rounding up Keith's and Vic's horses and herding them into the sketchy corrals. Vic's horses were well behaved enough, but Finn was disappointed to see how wild Keith's had gotten.

Once again he fought down his own regret. He had been too busy with his job as a sheriff's deputy, and working on the side, trying to establish his farrier business, to come regularly. In the past year and a half, the only times he had seen Keith was at the Grill and Chill, where his friend sat at his usual table, drinking coffee and scribbling furiously on pads of paper. Every time Finn joined him, he would shove the pads in an envelope, as if ashamed.

Now Keith's horses milled in the corral, the close quarters making them reestablish their pecking order. Teeth were bared, heads tossed, ears pinned back, and one or two of the smaller geldings had already been kicked.

“Some of them act pretty wild,” Jodie said, dismay in her voice and expression.

“They'll all need some work,” Finn stated, pushing his cowboy hat back on his head.

“Work?” Jodie asked.

“Hooves trimmed, for one thing. Could use some grooming. General care. Some round-pen work to settle them down. Some groundwork to retrain them.”

Jodie climbed up on the fence, still watching the horses. She seemed more relaxed today than at the funeral. “I recognize a few of them,” she said, her smile lighting up her previously somber face. “We used to ride that one. Mickey.” She pointed to a bay gelding that was shaking his head and baring his teeth at an appaloosa.

“You might want to be careful on the fence,” Finn warned. “The horses are goofy, penned up like this. They've not been worked with for a while.”

The words were barely spoken when one of the animals screeched, followed by a resounding thump as hooves connected with hide. Another bared its teeth, kicking at the rails. Then, close to Jodie, a roan mare and a pinto started fighting.

Finn was about to call out to her to get down when both horses reared, hooves flying. The pinto lost its balance and started falling.

Right toward Jodie.

Finn moved fast, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her back just as the horses fell against the fence. The posts and rails shuddered and Finn prayed they would hold as he spun Jodie around, out of harm's way.

Horses squealed as they struggled to regain their footing. The boards creaked and groaned. Finn looked over his shoulder. Thankfully, the roan scrambled free and galloped away, a couple others in pursuit.

Too close, he thought, relief making his knees tremble.

Then he glanced down at Jodie, realizing that he still had one arm wrapped around her midsection, the other bent over her head. Her hands were clutching his shirt.

“You okay?” he asked, still holding her.

She sucked in a shaky breath, her hair falling into her face as she nodded.

“Thanks. That was kind of scary,” she said, her voice wavering.

Finn was lost once again in eyes as blue as the Montana sky above them. As their gazes held, his heart beat faster and his breath became ragged.

Then she blinked and released her grip on him.

As he took a step away from her, he had to force his emotions back to equilibrium, frustrated with his reaction to her. It was as if he had never held a woman in his arms.

He lowered his hands as she pushed her hair away from her face, looking everywhere but at him.

“So, Jodie, you figured out what you want done with your horses?” Vic asked, slapping his dusty hat against his equally dusty blue jeans as he joined them.

Jodie shrugged, looking past Finn to the corrals, where the horses were slowly settling down. “I'm not sure. I was hoping I could ride one or two of them.”

“Today?” Surprise tinged Finn's voice.

“No. Oh, no. I'm not that optimistic,” she said with a nervous laugh, obviously still shaken up by her close encounter.

With him or the horses?

Don't flatter yourself, Hicks.

“You did say they were wild,” Jodie said.

“So when were you hoping to ride them?” Finn asked.

“I thought in a week or so?” She gave him a tight smile.

“You're here that long?” Her sister was gone, and he'd assumed Jodie would be leaving soon, as well.

“Unfortunately, I'm here for a couple of months.”

“If you spend some time with them, you might be able to catch one or two eventually,” Vic jumped in before Finn could quiz her. “Your dad let them run wild.”

“Even if you catch a few, I wouldn't recommend riding them until you've done some groundwork and round-pen work with them,” Finn added. “Settle them down.”

“I thought they were trained?”

“So did Finn when we tried to round them up,” Vic said with a laugh. “Guess it didn't take.”

“It's been a few years since I worked with them,” he retorted.

“You trained some of my dad's horses?” Jodie's eyes went wide and her eyebrows hit her hairline. “But you're a deputy.”

“He multitasks,” Vic said, slapping his hat again, grinning. “Catching crooks by day, horses by night.”

“I didn't know you were a trainer,” Jodie said to Finn.

“It's something I do on the side.”

She nodded, as if storing that information away.

“Tell me what you want done with these cayuses, Jodie,” Vic stated, plopping his battered, worn hat on his head. “I'm sorting mine out and loading them up on my trailer. Do you want to move these to the pasture just off the corrals or do you want me to let them go again?”

She caught her lip between her teeth, as if thinking. “I'm not sure what to do. Dad's will said we could offload the moveable assets whenever we wanted. Just not—” She stopped abruptly, waving her hand as if erasing what she'd said.

“Offload as in sell them?” Finn asked in dismay. They were top-notch horses and had some superb bloodlines, though they were a bit wild. It would be a crime to sell them at an auction.

“I can't keep them if I'm not staying, so I guess I'll have to. I should get a decent price. They're good horses. Dad always needed to own the best.”

“If you try to sell them right now, you'll only get meat prices for them,” Finn said. “The only place you could sell them is at the auction mart.”

“So they would get sold for slaughter?” Jodie sounded as concerned as he was. The horses now stood quietly, a sharp contrast to their behavior a few moments ago. The pinto hung her head over the fence, looking almost apologetic.

“Hey, Spotty,” she said, walking over, her hand held up. To Finn's surprise, the mare stayed where she was and allowed her to come closer. Jodie rubbed her nose, an expression of such yearning on her face that it caught Finn off guard. The horse nickered softly, as if responding to her.

Jodie stroked her neck and then another mare, the roan, joined them. Spotty stepped to the side, her head down in submission. Obviously the other mare was higher up in the pecking order.

“Do you remember me, Roany?” Jodie murmured, rubbing her nose, as well.

“Some really original names for those horses,” Finn teased. “Roany for a roan, Spotty for a pinto.”

“We were city kids. What did we know about proper horse names?”