His Favorite Cowgirl. Leigh Duncan

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       Chapter One

      Hank Judd urged Star forward until palmetto fronds no longer rustled against the big gelding’s front legs. He spotted a grey Brahman in a patch of scrub brush and slapped a lariat against his thigh. “Get on, gal. Get on now.”

      Her calf at her side, the cow broke from her hiding place. As the newcomers trotted into the open, cow dogs worked them toward the other intruders Ty and Hank had culled from the herd of prized Andalusians.

      “I think that’s the last of ’em.” Hank moved into place beside his friend and owner of the Circle P Ranch. Slowly they drove the Brahmans away from the main herd, while the dogs kept strays from wandering off.

      “For now.” Ty Parker removed his Stetson and mopped his head with a blue bandana. Fall or not, temperatures hovered above ninety degrees with the humidity so high a man could practically wring water from the air. “Till the next time Ol’ Man Tompkins’s cows decide the grass is greener on the Parker side of the fence.”

      Hank let his gaze sweep over the pasture on the far side of recently repaired barbed wire. The cattle had it right—the Circle P’s grazing land was greener.

      “Looks like Tompkins could stand to treat his grass with fertilizer and weed kill, doesn’t it? Those soda apples are takin’ over his place.” Wide patches of leafy green tropicals dotted the neighbor’s acreage. The weeds sported wicked thorns no self-respecting cow would go near, much less eat. Looking for something more appetizing, Tompkins’s cattle regularly pushed their way onto the Circle P land, where they helped themselves to the better-tended grass. And if the Brahmans happened to get impregnated by one of the Circle P’s purebred bulls while they were visiting, so much the better.

      Better for Ol’ Man Tompkins, that was. The old rancher only gave lip-service to preserving his herd’s bloodlines. Truth was, every mixed-breed calf put money in his pocket, no matter whose bull sired it. Especially since his Brahmans fetched a lower price at auction than Ty’s sturdy Andalusians whose roots traced back to the first cattle brought to the New World by the conquistadors.

      Hank clucked to Star as Ty moved ahead. The two men urged the half-dozen intruders along the trail toward Tompkins’s front gate. The plan called for Hank to deliver the cows to one of the pens near the main house while Ty had a heart-to-heart with the neighbor, who had apparently decided not to do his fair share of fence mending.

      “I’m glad you’re here to take over for Colt.” Ty’s voice rose over the jangle of metal from the horses’ bridles, the rustle of grass, the occasional warning growl from one of the dogs.

      Hank swigged water from his canteen and stared at the distant horizon where the flat terrain met the sky. He shouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t have been...if he could’ve saved his real estate company in Tallahassee from going belly-up. He swallowed. The hows and whys of his presence on the Circle P were nobody’s business but his own.

      The cows stirred dust into the air. It clogged his throat, and he cleared it. Four generations of Parkers had raised cattle in this particular section of South Florida. Judds had worked alongside the owners for just as long. Hank and his brothers had vowed to carry on the family tradition after their father’s death six months before. Each of Seth Judd’s five sons had offered to shoulder the responsibility, but Hank’s oldest brother, Garrett, had been sidelined by his wife’s difficult pregnancy. As the next in line, Colt had taken a leave of absence from his job with the Professional Bull Riders to walk in their father’s bootsteps. After he and the Circle P’s new cook, Emma, had fallen in love, the newlyweds had purchased a spread in nearby Indiantown. For the past four months, Colt had spent his spare time overseeing the construction of his own house and outbuildings. His departure had opened the spot for a ranch manager, just when Hank had found himself in need of a job.

      “You still think the twins’ll move south sometime this winter?” Saddle leather creaked as Ty shifted toward him.

      “Trying to get rid of me already?” Hank switched his reins from one hand to the other. His stay on the Circle P was only temporary. He’d move on just as soon as he got his feet under him again financially. The youngest Judds, twins Randy and Royce, called weekly to remind everyone they were chomping at the bit to take his place. Once they wrapped up their contract in Montana, they’d come home to co-manage the ranch.

      “Nah. Just thinking about Noelle. It’ll be hard enough for her to settle in here on the Circle P. Harder still if she has to move again before the school year is out. You all set for her?”

      Hank gulped. His ten-year-old was due the day after tomorrow. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. I sure appreciate your letting her join me here.” His father’s death had forced him to take stock of his life, and one of the things missing from it was a relationship with his only child. If he was ever going to make things right with her, he had to act. So, when his ex asked to send their daughter to boarding school for three months while she accompanied her parents on a round-the-world cruise, he had put his foot down for the first time since the divorce.

      “Nope,” he’d declared. “She’s coming to the Circle P with me.” And, thanks to a custody agreement giving Hank a say in his daughter’s education, that had been that. Not that he could’ve afforded his share of the boarding school tuition, even if he’d wanted to.

      One of the calves veered away from the rest of the cows. Ty waited till the dogs guided it back to its mama before he picked up the thread of the conversation.

      “It’ll be good to have kids running about the ranch for a while. Reminds me of when we were young’uns.”

      “Sometimes it seemed like there were more of us than there were cattle.” Hank tugged his hat brim low enough to shade his eyes. As the middle of Seth and Doris Judd’s five sons, he’d grown up on the ranch with Ty. Together with boys and girls from neighboring ranches, and a few townies, they’d played cowboys and Indians in the barn, feasted on watermelons and cantaloupes from the garden, caught fish and even tipped a few cattle when they thought they could get away with it...which they never had.

      “Jimmy’s gonna miss Bree when she moves.” Ty ran his fingers through Ranger’s mane. His son and the cook’s daughter had become fast friends but, after six months of on-the-job training under Chef Emma, Ty’s other children—foster sons Chris and Tim—were ready to assume responsibility for the kitchen on a day-to-day basis. Of course, Emma would still spend one day a week on the ranch, and she’d put in extra time during the winter and spring round-ups. But once she and Colt moved to their own place, Jimmy would lose his СКАЧАТЬ