The Cowboy Code. Christine Wenger

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СКАЧАТЬ here hauls his own weight, and that means you, too. We’ll get you settled in the bunkhouse, and then we’ll take your aunt’s things to the main house.”

      “The main house?” Danny asked, looking up for the first time.

      “Did you expect her to stay in the bunkhouse with the other participants?” Joe asked with a grin.

      “Where are you going to be?” Danny asked. Sarcasm dripped from his voice like icicles melting from a roof.

      “I’ll be staying in the bunkhouse with everyone else.” Joe met Danny’s eyes. “And it’s to your credit that you’re looking after your aunt. Being respectful to women is part of the Cowboy Code.”

      “The Cowboy Code? Spare me.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s lame.”

      “It’s not lame. The Cowboy Code consists of general rules for gentlemanly behavior—things that any good citizen should follow. And believe it or not, you got one of the components.” Joe grinned. “One down, several to go.”

      Danny didn’t turn away, but blinked, stunned. Slowly—grudgingly—he climbed out of the truck.

      Maggie was impressed with Joe’s response to Danny’s sarcasm. He’d taken what could have been a sensitive subject and ended it on an upbeat note.

      Was Danny worried that she and Joe might get close?

      She wondered, not for the first time, what went on in a thirteen-year-old boy’s head. Why would he think that they’d live under the same roof and get involved just like that? Merciful heavens, she’d just met the man.

      Was Danny worried that she’d spend more time with Joe than with him?

      Then it dawned on her. Steve Rayborn. She remembered when Danny had thought that she was serious about Steve, a costar in her last musical. A dear friend, he’d helped her through Liz’s two-year battle with cancer and her ongoing struggle to act like a parent. When Maggie finally confronted Danny about his silent treatment and rude remarks toward Steve, the boy had admitted that he thought Maggie was going to marry Steve and that they wouldn’t want him.

      Realizing how frightened her nephew was of losing the only family he had left, Maggie explained that Steve was just a friend, and that Danny would always be first and foremost in her life.

      Now, though, it seemed that Danny’s old insecurities were resurfacing. But she hoped that Cowboy Quest would finally put her fears to rest. Sure, Joe was out of the ordinary and handsome enough to be a leading man, but Maggie had enough to deal with right now without adding romance to her life. Besides, she was too worried about Danny’s future to think about starting something with Joe, or anyone else for that matter.

      She’d have to try and explain that to her nephew and encourage him to take this program more seriously. He didn’t seem to care that he could be placed in foster care.

      As she watched Joe and Danny hauling luggage together, she looked up at the vibrant colors of the setting sun and said a little prayer that Joe would be able to reach the boy.

      Joe motioned for her to join them. “Maggie, come and see the bunkhouse. It’s not much, but Danny’s going to call it home for six weeks.”

      They walked in silence with nothing but the crunch of the gravelly path under their feet. In front of them stood a long stretch of clapboard building with several windows and an inviting porch with a dozen white rocking chairs. Some swayed slightly in the late-spring breeze, as if ghostly inhabitants were enjoying an evening break.

      Joe knocked on the door. “Lady present. Is everyone decent?”

      She could hear the scraping of chairs and the sound of boots on a wooden floor.

      “Yeah, boss. C’mon in.” The voice sounded like Quint’s.

      As Joe opened the door, seven cowboys stood at attention, holding their hats in their hands.

      Joe introduced them. “Adriano, he’s my foreman. This handsome gent is Guillerme, or Willy for short. And this tall son-of-a-gun is Ronnie. Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Dan Turner and his aunt, Maggie McIntyre.”

      There were four more cowboys present whose names she promptly forgot. She forced a smile and shook hands, wondering again how these men could possibly help Danny.

      What on earth was Judge Cunningham thinking?

      Danny halfheartedly shook hands with them all, but he wasn’t smiling. Right now he seemed younger than his thirteen years. His long, narrow face sprinkled with freckles made him look about ten years old. He was thin, bordering on skinny, but his fierce blue eyes were the windows to his soul. And right now, his soul wasn’t happy.

      Maggie gave the bunkhouse a quick glance. The walls were just plywood, and there was nothing to give the big room color other than a calendar with a green tractor urging insurance in case of ranch accidents.

      A long, beat-up table sported coffee-ring stains, an array of assorted mugs and lots of dig marks, no doubt made by the men’s spurs when they put their feet up on the table.

      A fairly new galley kitchen ran half the length of the room, but what she noticed the most was the monstrous coffeemaker on a round table by the stove. In fact, the whole place smelled of coffee.

      “Danny, you’re the first participant to arrive. The others will be here any time now,” Ronnie stated. “You get to pick your bunk.”

      “I don’t care,” Danny said, but Maggie noticed that he looked around and drifted toward one of the metal cots by a window.

      He’s probably planning his escape route, she thought.

      The bunkhouse was certainly a few stories down from their apartment in SoHo. And here Danny didn’t have his own bedroom.

      Joe held out his hand to shake Danny’s. “I’ll see you later for grub. Make up your bunk and get settled in, and I’ll escort your aunt to the main house. When the others arrive, the boys will show you all around the ranch.”

      Danny shook Joe’s hand but didn’t meet his gaze, looking at the floor. Maggie tried to swallow the lump in her throat, saddened that Danny would freeze out the man who was his best shot at a fresh start.

      She willed herself to believe that coming here had been a good idea.

      As she followed Joe up the hill to the house, Maggie noticed that the rambling stone and log structure somehow fit perfectly into the landscape. A snow-capped mountain range and a copse of conifers peeked over the roof, completing the picture.

      Maggie stared in awe. “What a breathtaking house. I can’t wait to see inside.”

      There was still a fairly steep climb on a landscaped brick walkway to get to the front door.

      Joe smiled. “My father built it for my mother when they were first married. She’s Lakota Sioux, and he constructed the house with twelve beams, just like the Lakota teepee was constructed with twelve poles. And the door faces east, which represents the rising sun and a new day.”

      She’d been right. He was part Native American.

      She stole a glance СКАЧАТЬ