Wyatt: Return of the Cowboy

Not much had changed in the twelve years since Wyatt Malone left Roundup, Montana. Except for Paige St. John, his once loyal childhood friend. As teenagers, they had planned to leave their small town behind together. But a falling out with his father drove him from Roundup and Paige—and she has not forgiven Wyatt for striking out on his own.

Now Wyatt is back, hoping to reconcile with his family—and with Paige. She’s turned into the kind of woman he’s always wanted. But she’s been burned by handsome cowboys before, including the one that left her to raise her son alone. Can Wyatt convince Paige, and the rest of Roundup, that he’s a man she can count on?

Harts of the Rodeo prequel novella.

Wyatt: Return of the Cowboy

Harts of the Rodeo Series Prequel

Cathy McDavid

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter One

Six weary patrons had taken refuge in the Open Range Saloon, attempting to escape the chilly February afternoon. Every one of them looked up when Wyatt Malone strode through the door.

Flickers of recognition lit the faces of three people. One leaned in and whispered something to his neighbor.

“You don’t say?” came the loud response.

Wyatt removed his heavy coat, dispersing a shower of half-melted snow, and took stock of his surroundings.

Not much had changed in the last twelve years since he’d been gone. The polished mahogany bar with its brass foot rail, paper cocktail napkins printed with the saloon’s logo serving as coasters and deer antlers mounted above the wall-length mirror were all accounted for.

The only glaring difference was Wyatt himself, older, wiser and the chip missing from his shoulder.

He crossed the room, his boots thudding on the hardwood floor. No one stood behind the bar, which wasn’t unusual. Wyatt knew from experience that glassware, wine bottles, kegs of beer and garnishments had to be regularly restocked from the walk-in cooler and pantry.

Any minute, his father would emerge, a red apron tied around his waist, a pencil stuck behind his ear.

Wyatt braced himself in anticipation. He wanted this meeting, assumed his father did, too. Didn’t mean he thought it would go well. Not at first.

Tugging on the brim of his cowboy hat, he addressed the saloon’s sole female occupant, a world-weary woman in her late fifties perched on a stool.

“Afternoon, ma’am.”

She immediately snapped to attention, her gaze taking him in from head to toe. “What I wouldn’t give to be thirty years younger and thirty pounds lighter.”

Wyatt grinned. “I don’t suppose the owner’s anywhere around.”

“They don’t usually come in till later. Paige works the afternoon shift.”

“Paige St. John?” His heart rate, already accelerated, beat even faster.

The door to the back opened, and she materialized, as if by speaking her name he’d summoned her.

“Wyatt!” Her green eyes went wide with delight. In the next instant, they dimmed as if a switch had been flipped. “You’re here,” she said flatly.

He longed to rush behind the bar and sweep her into his arms like he’d often
done in their youth. Her cool reception kept him at bay. “I got an invitation. To my parents’ anniversary party.” When she said nothing, he continued, “Hard to believe they’ve been married thirty-five years.” Was she thinking more about the twelve years it had been since they’d last seen each other? Since he’d last seen his father. His older brother Jay. This bar. This town.

The only person in all of Roundup, Montana, Wyatt kept in contact with was his mother and that, he hated to admit, consisted of a phone call every three or four months.

“Your dad arrived a few minutes ago.” Paige reached for a knife and began slicing limes into wedges. “He’s in his office.”

Wyatt set his coat on the bar. Much as he anticipated the reunion with his family, he’d missed Paige. And he owed her—his thanks for her unfailing loyalty and an apology for disappointing her. “How long you been working here?”

“A while.”

“Nearly ten years, isn’t it?” the woman beside him answered. She’d been watching Wyatt and Paige with avid interest. In fact, all the patrons were watching them.

“Paige.” Wyatt waited for her to acknowledge him. It took several seconds. “I’m sorry,” he said when she finally lifted her head. “I should have called or written.”

“Yes, you should have.” She went back to slicing limes.

Wyatt studied her. The sweet-faced teenager he’d known had matured into a lovely woman. Her straight brown hair was now accented with blond highlights and fell in appealing waves past her shoulders. Gone, too, was the reserved, guarded demeanor, having been replaced with confidence and poise.

Wyatt’s heart rate increased yet again, this time the result of an entirely different emotion.

Attraction.

The force of it hit him like a blow from nowhere.

Paige had been his friend when they were growing up. His best friend. At times, his
only
friend. That he should be affected this way, so quickly and so strongly, unnerved him.

Eventually, he found his voice. “Maybe we can talk later.”

“I’ve nothing to say to you.”

Her words proved they did, indeed, have a lot of unfinished business.

Wyatt was more than willing to bide his time. Theirs was hardly the only burned bridge he’d left behind needing repairs.

The fact his parents had sent him the party invitation indicated they were as willing as him to reconcile. With luck, Paige would come around, too. He’d spend his visit trying his best to convince her.

She set the knife on the cutting board and wiped her hands on a towel. “I’ll take you to your dad now.”

He knew the way to the office. His parents had owned and operated the Open Range Saloon for better than twenty years. But he’d allow Paige to lead him down the narrow hall if only for another chance to speak to her.

“I’ll be ready for a refill when you’re done,” a man at a corner table called out and raised his nearly empty beer mug.

“Sit tight, Royce. I won’t be a minute.”

Wyatt thought he might be acquainted with the older man and searched his memory. It came to him in a flash. Royce was one of the hands from Thunder Ranch, the Harts’ spread. Wyatt once worked there and frequently ran into Colt Hart during his years on the rodeo circuit. Until she’d moved, Thunder Ranch was also the home of Dinah Hart, Wyatt’s former girlfriend.

He’d forgotten all about her. A single look at Paige had cleared his mind of every woman from his past and present, save her.

She glanced over her shoulder to check if he was still following.

“What’s wrong?” Her brows drew together. “You’re limping.”

“It’s nothing. Just a little stiff from the long drive.”

She stopped a few feet from the closed office door. “Is your injury still bothering you?”

“You know about that?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Your mother told me.”

He nodded.

A year ago, Wyatt had taken a fall from the infamous bucking horse The Midnight Express. Among his injuries he counted a concussion, a ruptured spleen and seventeen broken bones, one of them a rib that punctured his left lung and left him with his life hanging in the balance for two full days.

It was the last time he’d sat a bucking bronc. Probably the last time he ever would.

“There’s a bottle of aspirin behind the bar if you need some,” Paige offered.

“Just like always.”

She didn’t reply, but simply knocked softly on the closed office door. “Ted? You there?”

“Yeah,” came a deep, muffled reply. “Come in.”

Wyatt’s spine automatically straightened at the sound of his father’s voice.

Paige opened the door. “You have a visitor.” She stepped aside to let Wyatt enter.

Their gazes connected briefly when he brushed by her. For an instant—and only an instant—her expression softened, and she was the same Paige St. John he remembered.

Wyatt’s gaze went next to his father, sitting behind a battered metal desk that had come with the saloon when his parents purchased it. As he watched, his father’s expression went from shock to anger.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Wyatt’s arm, extended for a handshake, fell to his side.

* * *

“You sent me an invitation,” Wyatt answered, perplexed more than anything.

“I sure as hell did not.”

“It came in the mail. Postmarked Roundup.”

“Not from me, it didn’t.”

Was this some kind of joke? Wyatt turned, seeking Paige, only to catch a glimpse of her as she rounded the corner and disappeared.

“Maybe Mom did,” he said.

“I doubt that. You broke her heart.”

“I know I did.…” Wyatt struggled to make sense of what was happening.

After his accident, his mother had visited him in the hospital, their first reunion since he’d left at eighteen. She’d begged him to come home and recuperate among family and friends. Wyatt refused, hurt because his father and brother hadn’t rushed to his bedside.

But over the next several months, months filled with endless sessions of painful physical therapy, he gained a new appreciation of life and a new perspective. He was as much to blame as anyone for his estrangement from his family. He was also determined to rectify past mistakes and heal old wounds. Only he hadn’t known how.

Then, he’d received the invitation.

“Dad, I drove all the way from Jackson Hole to see you and Mom and Jay.”

“Well, you’ve wasted your time and gas.”

“Guess I should have called first.” Wyatt strived for nonchalance to mask his hurt.

“What did you expect?” His father came out from behind the desk. “For us to roll out the red carpet?”

“Twelve years is a long time to hold a grudge.”

“Can you blame me?”

Wyatt expelled a tired breath. “It was an accident.”

“A needless one.”

“I was eighteen.”

“Old enough to know better and too smart to be drinking and driving.”

Except Wyatt hadn’t been drinking or driving. His brother Jay was the one behind the wheel. Wyatt had taken the blame to spare his brother, neither of them guessing the repercussions of their seemingly innocent lie.

He wanted his parents to know the truth, believed they couldn’t mend their differences until he and Jay came clean. Now might not be the right moment, however, given his father’s reaction to Wyatt’s return.

“Everything turned out okay. From what I hear, Jay has a good job at the bank and is head of the town council.”

“Not the same as playing professional football. His career was ruined thanks to you.”

Wyatt didn’t correct his father—he wouldn’t believe Wyatt anyway. Jay, firstborn son, had always been the light of their father’s eyes. He could do no wrong and Wyatt no right.

He hadn’t been able to admit until recently how jealous he’d been of his father and brother’s relationship and how that jealousy had affected them all.

“Can’t we at least talk?” Wyatt asked. “I’ve come a long way.”

“What’s the point?”

“Really, Dad? That’s how you want it?” Confusion gave way to anger. His father was right; the trip here had been a waste of time and gas. Nothing had changed. “Give Mom my love.” This time when Wyatt went to shut the door, his father didn’t stop him.

Pain clouded his vision in the already poorly lit hall. He didn’t see the person standing in the doorway until he nearly trampled her.

“Wyatt? Oh, Wyatt!” There was a sob, and then he was engulfed in a pair of arms familiar and desperately missed.

“Mom.” He choked on her name as he returned her hug.

Finally, someone was glad to see him.

“Are you all right?” Pulling back, she held his face between her hands and studied him at length.