Cowboy Comes Back / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride: Cowboy Comes Back / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride. Wendy Warren

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      Libby nodded. She might be hotheaded, but she wasn’t a fool. She’d continue with this game for a while and see how it played out, but damned if she would let this woman force her to include lies in her assessments.

      “If that’s all?” she asked, holding the folder she’d brought with her in both hands.

      “For now,” Ellen said. “I look forward to your report.”

      Libby gave a slight smile and headed for the door.

      “Well?” Stephen asked once she returned to their office.

      “We have range issues,” Libby said shortly.

      “Yeah.” Stephen leaned back in his chair, propping the sole of his boot on the edge of the desk. “Before Ellen went to the state meeting, she wanted to allow more grazing for the three big ranches in the area. I couldn’t recommend increasing time or number of animals on the allotments. Fred agreed with me. She didn’t like that much.”

      “Well,” Libby said, thoughtfully twisting a curl around her finger. “She now believes that if she removes the horses from the range, there’ll be plenty of food for cattle.”

      “She’s probably right.”

      “Whose side are you on?”

      “Yours. But her thought process makes sense.”

      “Her thought process is what worries me. And she came back all out of sorts from that meeting, so I’m thinking she got bad news and now she’s trying to twist things to get what she wants.”

      “What does she want, Libby?”

      “She wants to make friends with some rich ranchers, near as I can tell.” Libby shook her head and touched her computer mouse, bringing the screen to life. She had a report to write.

      And some thinking to do.

      “DO YOU HAVE plans for the weekend?” Ellen asked later that afternoon as they left the office for the day.

      Libby’s jaw set at the woman’s pretended interest in her staff. The ploy was probably outlined in one of her management books. Take an interest in your staff. Show them that you care, then carefully insert the knife between the fifth and sixth ribs and twist …

      “Just a long ride in the mountains,” Libby said. She dug her keys out of her jacket pocket and started for her truck.

      She’d spent as much time contemplating the pros and cons of Menace’s advice to suck it up where Kade was concerned as she’d spent debating the mustang situation. She did need to suck it up. It was stupid to think that she could avoid Kade in the tiny community. So why try? Why not just find a middle ground between lovers and enemies? It was the only sane course of action. And it would prove once and for all—to both of them—that there’d never, ever be anything between them again.

      And that was why she was going to do more than point out Blue’s herd on the map. She would go with Kade to find his horse.

      CHAPTER SIX

      JOE BARTON WASN’T exactly the man Kade had first thought he was. He’d lived a privileged life and had only a passing familiarity with the word no, but he also worked hard. He didn’t leave everything for his underlings to take care of. Kade had a feeling that had their positions been reversed, Barton would not have been fleeced out of his fortune by a no-good accountant; he would have been well aware of everything that was happening with his money. Kade had been trusting and oblivious, learning the hard way that people who said they were your friends still had to be watched.

      Kade was not only learning to like Joe, he was thankful he had the three colts to train, because the job offers weren’t exactly pouring in. He really hadn’t expected to get hired on at the Lone Eagle Mine, but he’d thought he might have had a shot at a couple of the jobs advertised in Wesley—driving a propane delivery truck or doing day labor at the aggregate plant. He hadn’t even been asked for an interview. Apparently bronc busting—even world-class bronc busting—wasn’t enough of a skill to make the short list for those kinds of positions.

      Sheri hadn’t called, either, since that one excited phone exchange a couple of weeks ago, so obviously the Rough Out endorsement deal was down the tubes. Kade felt no surprise. He hadn’t been easy to deal with when he’d been drunk, and he’d been stupid and arrogant enough to think that he could do as he pleased and a major advertiser would still want him to work for them. After all, sales of Rough Out jeans had jumped when he’d been used in their print ads. Difficult was difficult, however, and he’d pulled one too many no-shows on them, due to rotten hangovers.

      Stupid, stupid, stupid.

      But drunks weren’t known for making well-thought-out, informed decisions. He’d instinctively stayed away from Maddie during those months, not wanting his kid to see him in that state, and telling himself he’d get sober and make it up to her tomorrow.

      Jillian had made no waves about him not seeing Maddie. She’d liked that Kade no longer upset their daughter’s controlled existence. But then he’d had a rude awakening when the IRS contacted him, wanting a whole lot of money because his accountant, the one Jillian had warned him about, hadn’t bothered to pay his taxes. Instead, Dylan Smith had pocketed the money and taken off for Brazil or some such country while Kade was left holding the bag. The big, empty bag. It had taken almost everything he had left to settle that debt, but at least it had sobered him up once and for all.

      And then, when he realized he’d missed months of his kid’s life, and had no way to support her, he’d set about becoming the kind of person, the kind of dad, he wanted to be.

      “Would you be interested in taking on some more colts?” Barton asked him out of the blue as they rode through the sage toward a trail leading to the mountains.

      “Yes,” Kade responded. No sense playing coy.

      “There’s just one thing.”

      Kade glanced over at Barton, whose tone had changed. “What’s that?”

      “I’ll want you under contract. I don’t want to invest in colts and then not have a trainer whose name will help sell them.”

      “So I’d be guaranteed employment.” That would be nice. He nudged the colt to keep him from pausing to eat the tall crested wheat growing between the sage bushes.

      “And I’d be guaranteed that you won’t sell your ranch and quit the country.”

      “How long a contract?” Because he fully intended to sell the ranch and quit the country as soon as he could.

      “I want sixty days put on the colts I sell, with an option to re-up for a longer period if we’re both happy with the deal.”

      “That sounds reasonable.” It would take longer than sixty days to settle all the issues involved in selling the ranch once he found a buyer. And, if he was able to move to Elko after the sale, he could continue to work for Joe, since the town wasn’t far away by Nevada standards. Yes. A renewable contract was sounding better and better.

      “You aren’t drinking anymore, are you.” It was a statement, not a question, and Kade СКАЧАТЬ