Aiming for the Cowboy. Mary Leo

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      “She’s chopping pineapples and cabbage today for coleslaw, and I love to watch her chop things. Best part of the show.”

      “That’s a little sick.”

      “No, it ain’t. Not the way you think anyway. I’m a horrible chopper. She’s a master.”

      The theme song ended and the host stood in her kitchen, picked up her chopping knife and began chopping away.

      “Look at the way she handles that cabbage, and that big knife. She’s got a real talent for chopping. It’s an art.”

      Helen stared at Milo in disbelief.

      “Since when do you care about slicing vegetables?”

      “Since I entered the show’s contest. If I win, I get to fly to Texas to her ranch for a full two days of cooking lessons, then dinner with her out on her private veranda. That would be heaven.”

      “You only eat hot dogs, burgers, spuds and an occasional steak.”

      “Yeah, but a man can dream, can’t he?” He closed his eyes as the show went to a commercial. After a second or two, a wide smile creased his lips. “Besides, I’m learning how to cook because of her.”

      She stuck a hand to her hip. “Be careful what you wish for, big cousin.”

      “As careful as you are, little cousin.” He opened his eyes and turned to her. “Now get yourself over to that there fair and tell your man you’re carryin’ his child. Then let him do the right thing and everybody’ll be happy.”

      “That’s not why I’m telling him.”

      “Oh?” His eyebrow went up.

      “He has a right to know, is all.”

      “Sweetheart, you’ve had a crush on Colt Granger since you was kids.”

      “Yes, and it’s still a crush.”

      He turned, looked down at her belly and grinned. “Seriously?”

      “It was just one crazy night. Nothing more.”

      “Looks like a lot more to me.”

      Helen sighed, turned on her heels, grabbed her purse off the coffee table and headed for the door. Sometimes her cousin could be so dang frustrating.

      * * *

      IT WAS A PERFECT Teton Valley fall day, a clear blue sky, a cool breeze skipping down from the surrounding mountains and the tall grasses elegantly bending with each breeze. The air smelled sweet, and the sun tried its best to warm Colt, but there was a deep freeze that clung to his heart. His sister-in-law, Maggie, had mentioned that Helen was pregnant. If it was true, he figured the father had to be some no-account cowpoke from the circuit, or why else would she be living with her folks?

      But Colt knew Helen fairly well so he absolutely refused to believe it, and wouldn’t believe it until he heard it from Helen herself. Colt knew enough about town rumors to know they were only half-truths, but with this bit of gossip he was hopeful the entire tale was a fabrication. And until he heard otherwise, he intended to try to enjoy the piglet races with his boys, who were somewhat behaved on this fine evening.

      Colt and Buddy, his oldest, who had to tell everyone he would soon be eight and a half, sat side by side in the third row on the metal bleachers. Colt’s other two sons, Joey and six-year-old Gavin, sat on the other side of Buddy. Normally, Colt would sit in the middle with his boys flanking his sides, but ever since the roof incident, and Colt’s stern warning before he tucked them into bed each night, his boys seemed to be more agreeable than pups in a basket.

      The piglet races were one of the highlights of the fair, and the crowded stands were testament to that fact. Black-and-white silks adorned the small oval track. Wood shavings encircled the floor of the track that couldn’t be more than a hundred and fifty feet around. With five rows of metal bleachers on three sides, it would soon be standing room only.

      Four baby oinkers adorned in various colors of brown, green, pink and black, with their big ears flapping, were hand-carried out onto the track from a colorful thirty-foot trailer, introduced to the excited audience, then placed in separate cages that sat on the starting line. Colt, his boys and the audience cheered, clapped and whistled as the Swinemaster, a rugged-looking cowboy sporting a handlebar mustache and a large white classic cowboy hat, announced the upcoming race.

      “Racing as piglet number one we have Bob Beboar. Number two is our darling Josephine Hoglarson, number three is Stephanie Porkman and finally number four is the lovely Olive Oinkly.”

      The crowd reacted with hoots and whistles just as Colt spotted Helen heading right for him. She looked about as pretty as the first spring rose. She wore her favorite straw cowboy hat and if he wasn’t mistaken, he could make out the necklace he’d given her around her pretty neck.

      His heart raced.

      His palms were clammy.

      Suddenly all he could think of was her naked body lying under him as he kissed her. The scent of her. The feel of her silky skin. Her warm touch on his—

      The crowd parted and he spotted her prominent baby bump.

      His breath hitched.

      “Hey, good-lookin’,” Lana Thomson said as she made her way toward Colt. He’d forgotten that Travis had set him up with Lana for the festival. It suddenly dawned on him that he was supposed to have met her near the front entrance to the wine booths a good twenty minutes ago, but with everything else going on around him at the fair, he’d completely forgotten.

      “Lana, hi!” he said, jumping up to greet her as he desperately tried to think up an excuse for why meeting her had completely slipped his mind. He wished his brothers would stop trying to pair him with every available girl in town. Of all people, Lana Thomson, who was about as right for him as a Vegas showgirl.

      “Good thing I ran into your dad or I would’ve thought you stood me up. I know I was a little late getting here, but that couldn’t be helped. A girl has to look her best on her first date with a Granger. The competition is steep, sweetie, but from what I hear, the rewards are just this side of heaven.” She gave him a slow once-over, lingering a little too long on body parts she shouldn’t be staring at in a public place, especially with his boys sitting next to him.

      Once again, because of his brothers’ incessant meddling, he found himself in a troublesome situation.

      “I need four volunteers from the stands,” the Swinemaster bellowed. “One from each section!”

      “Colt Granger, we need to talk,” Helen said as she approached. She spoke with such force Colt near about hopped forward as if he were on a spring.

      “Sure,” Colt answered as he tried to move around Lana. “Will you excuse me?”

      He couldn’t really get to Helen because of all the kids who were now standing around him, cheering and laughing in anticipation of the race.

      “You, sir, come on down to the front,” he heard the Swinemaster say.

      Colt’s СКАЧАТЬ