The Cowboy's Christmas Bride. Patricia Johns

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ upkeep for a rancher, and Andy could appreciate the sight of a well-maintained one. The gate opened with a groan and when they’d all filed through, Elliot closed it again with the thump of metal against wooden post, fastening the latch.

      The pasture opened up ahead of them, the grass rippling in a cold wind that cut across the plains with nothing to stop it. The snow might be late this year, but it would come, and overhead there was another honking V of geese moving south. Andy kicked Romeo into motion and the drovers fanned out, each taking some space as they rode.

      He’d known on that last cattle drive that none of it would change. Ever. It was on horseback with the drovers that Andy had decided to make his own life and his own future away from the land he’d grown up on. Andy loved the land, too—or he had until he’d realized that it would never be his. But while his brother loved the very soil under his boots, Andy had loved the horizon—that tickle of land meeting sky, so full of possibility. He loved the disappearing line of fence as it dwindled into the distance, and the gentle touch of pink along the horizon as the sun crept slowly upward. He liked clouds that soared like battleships, leaving dark shadows beneath them, and the whistle of wind past his face as he rode at full gallop. The soil was good, but the horizon was better. He might be pushed out of the ranch, but that didn’t push him out of life. Sometimes, it was best not to get attached to something never intended for you anyway.

      Andy found himself watching Dakota from the corner of his eye as she slowly overtook him. She was an experienced rider and her attention appeared to be on the scenery around them. A glowing sunrise and frost melting into dew as far the sunbeams stretched. She blended into the moment seamlessly, a cowgirl cantering across the pasture, and Andy sucked in a chilled breath of morning air. He’d do well to keep his focus off the backside of Dakota Mason—she was another one never meant for the likes of him.

      Watching his team riding, horse strides lengthening into a comfortable gate, riders settling into the motion, he felt that same sense of disconnect he’d felt all those years ago—he was an outsider here. But looking at Dakota ride, her ponytail bouncing on her back, her hips moving with the horse underneath her, he felt a different kind of longing. This Montana land wasn’t his and it never would be, but if he could belong anywhere, he wanted it to be with a woman like Dakota. Dwight had never deserved her, and maybe Andy didn’t, either, but he’d have at least treated her right.

      But that had been a long time ago—too long ago to even matter now that they were all adults. He’d felt a twinge of that when he’d seen Mackenzie again four years ago. She’d reminded him of what he wanted most, too, but that had been more of a nostalgic shiver, a realization that he’d been an idiot way back then. Looking at Dakota—this rooted him to the here and now, and that was probably more dangerous.

      Elliot urged his horse forward and edged their mounts closer together as he caught up. Elliot pushed his hat farther down onto his head, water-blue eyes squinted in the low-angled sunlight. The older drover gave him a curt nod of greeting.

      “So you hired the kid.” It was a statement not a question.

      “Yep.”

      “You know much about him?” Elliot inquired.

      “Not a whole lot. But he seems to know his stuff and he was pretty desperate for a job.” It was the same question anyone around here would ask—what did they know about him? But a body was a body when you needed to round up four hundred cows.

      “He’s been to prison,” Elliot said.

      “What?” Andy looked over at Harley, who rode next to Dakota. “How do you know that?”

      “Just do.” Elliot made a clicking sound with his mouth and the horses eased apart again. “Keep an eye on him, is all.”

      As Elliot moved farther away, Andy continued to eye the kid in question. He couldn’t even grow a full mustache and he had a faintly naive look about him, like dirty jokes would spoil his innocence. Harley appeared to say something to Dakota and she laughed, the sound skipping along the breeze and melting into the rippling grass.

      Either Elliot was lying or the Bible-carrying kid had the best poker face Andy had ever seen. Either way, this drive was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

      * * *

      AFTER A FEW hours of riding, the sun was shining warm and golden on Dakota’s shoulders. The air was warmer now, but the wind was cold when it picked up. Autumn could be like that—bitingly cold in the morning and then unseasonably warm, all within a matter of hours. But they were in December and while it still looked like fall around these parts, the wind promised change. The land was a succession of rolling hills as they headed toward the mountains, and meandering lines of rocky creek beds spider-webbed into the cleavage of the hills. Cold mountain water babbled across stones, giving extra moisture for clusters of trees to dig down their roots and drink.

      They reined in by a copse of fiery-hued trees to have something to eat and let the horses graze. When the wind picked up, the leaves swirled off the branches, circling and spinning as they sailed out over the grassland, leaving the trees just a little barer—just a little closer to naked.

      It felt good to dismount and Dakota stretched her back, letting the tension in her muscles seep away. She loved riding. When she was on her own ranch, she preferred jobs like checking on the cattle or the condition of the fences because it meant she could ride all morning, face to the wind and heart soaring.

      The men dismounted, as well. Dakota had been watching them as they rode. She’d spoken with a few. There was Harley, the innocent-looking kid who sparked her maternal side. She didn’t know what it was about him, but she wanted to ruffle his hair. Then there was Elliot, who was silent but not altogether unfriendly. Carlos and Finn were both in their midtwenties and had flirted a bit, that is until Elliot put his horse between them and drove them off with that annoyed stare of his. Dave was goofy and joked around a lot, his humor bawdy but funny, but he knew his way around a horse.

      And then there was Andy. Andy hadn’t made much contact as they’d ridden. He’d kept back, surveying the land and possibly just keeping to himself. It was hard to tell. She’d expected him to talk to her somewhat, but he hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t disappointed about that; she was wary. Andy wasn’t a man to be trusted, and she resented that he acted so honest and straight-shooting. A man who could hide his character was worse than one who wore it on his sleeve, and it looked like Andy had learned to hide a few things.

      Or he’d reformed. Which was more likely?

      Dakota unbuckled the saddlebag and pulled out the food she’d packed. There were two multigrain bagels filled with thick slabs of cream cheese, some dried fruit and an apple turnover.

      “Are you ready for a rest?” Dakota asked softly, stroking Barney’s neck. “You really are a sweetheart, you know.”

      The horse bent to take a mouthful of grass and she patted his shoulder. He wandered off a few paces, seeming to enjoy his temporary freedom.

      Elliot, Dave, Finn and Carlos were sitting together on some rocks by a dried-up creek laughing at something—probably a joke told by Dave. He seemed to be an unending fount of raunchy humor, mostly centered on the women he’d dated, who seemed a questionable lot. Harley sat alone, a little ways off. He was opening a foil-wrapped sandwich and his gaze flickered up toward her as if he’d felt her curiosity. She gave him a cordial nod, which he returned then turned his attention to his food.

      Andy sauntered in her direction and she was struck anew with those Granger good looks. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and he had the rolling СКАЧАТЬ