“I’LL DO IT, MOM,” called Casey, running from the house after changing out of his soccer uniform. His brother was close at his heels and Kelly breathed a sigh of relief that Josh was gone.
The boys loved to help, just the way she’d loved to help at their age. They were still too young to do much, but they participated with the orphaned calf feedings and did other chores as far as their small arms and legs would allow. Lark, one of the family dogs, followed them from one task to another, an ever-present guardian.
Kelly’s heart melted as she looked at her sons, filling a wheelbarrow with fresh straw for the horse stalls. In her mind she could see the years rushing ahead, Casey and Marc growing into strong, fine young men who cared about Kindred Ranch as much as she did. They were well on their way. Both of the boys were crazy about horses and animals and were always asking questions and wanting to participate, eager to learn about ranching.
Of course, they also asked endless questions about rodeos, enthralled with their grandfather’s stories. She kept explaining that life as a professional rodeo competitor rarely included making enough money to pay for more than getting to the next event and having their bodies beaten to a pulp in the process. But they didn’t care. They were still too young to recognize their grandfather was a dreamer who didn’t deal well with reality.
Casey and Marc each lifted a handle of the wheelbarrow and pushed it as a team to Lightfoot’s enclosure. The stallion quietly moved to one corner, letting them work. He might dislike strangers, but he was as gentle as a newborn kitten with the twins.
With another sigh, Kelly continued cleaning the last horse stall. Even if Kindred Ranch wasn’t a major spread, there was plenty of upkeep. Her dad did what he could when he was home and felt well enough, but most of the work was left to her and the cowhands.
The sound of a truck driving into the ranch center made her frown. They didn’t get many visitors in the afternoon; their fellow ranchers were just as busy as they were at that time of day.
She stepped outside the barn and went rigid.
It was Josh.
First, casting a quick glance at the boys spreading straw in Lightfoot’s stall, she hurried toward the truck. “Forget something?” she asked, struggling to sound casual as he got out.
“Not exactly. But it’s later than I thought and the sky looks as if a thunderstorm is brewing.”
A thunderstorm? Kelly knew he’d driven through hail, floods and tornado warnings to reach rodeo competitions, so she was skeptical that he’d balk at a few clouds.
“Hi, mister.” Marc had come out of the barn and was looking curiously at their visitor. “Are you Grandpa’s rodeo friend?”
“Yes, sir. I’m from Canada. The name is Josh McKeon.”
Marc’s eyes widened with excitement. “Grandpa is from Canada, too.” Marc was less reserved with new people than his brother, a trait he’d inherited from Harry, who could talk the ear off a grizzly bear.
Kelly tried to ignore the dread in her stomach. “Marc, get Casey and go inside.”
“Aw, Mom, can’t I stay?”
“Now, Marc.”
Dragging his feet, he went into the barn and emerged a couple of minutes later with his brother. Obviously he’d explained that Josh was “Grandpa’s rodeo friend” because they both wore the same starstruck expression. Casey looked longingly at Josh, but didn’t protest being banished to the house.
“Lark, go,” she said to the Australian shepherd, who was keeping a watchful eye on Josh. The dog trailed after the boys.
“I don’t think the weather is that bad,” Kelly said, taking a long look at the horizon, where a few thunderheads could be seen. “Surely you could get as far as—”
“Hello there,” interrupted her grandmother’s voice from the front porch.
Now Kelly was in even deeper trouble. Grams was fierce about the rules of hospitality.
Grams hurried down the steps and smiled. “Welcome. I’m Susannah Flannigan. My great-grandsons told me someone had arrived. Are you one of Kelly’s friends?”
“Josh McKeon, ma’am.” He lifted his hat, a proper cowboy. “I’m—”
“Mr. McKeon is Harry’s rodeo pal,” Kelly interrupted quickly. She didn’t think Grams had ever met Josh. Her grandparents weren’t huge rodeo fans and had never attended one of the big events, in either Canada or the United States.
“That’s right,” Josh said easily. “When Harry invited me to visit, he mentioned your local rodeo fundraiser, the one in a few weeks. I’ve decided to compete in it.”
“Goodness, I should have realized you were my son-in-law’s guest, but I expected somebody older. Now, we have spare bedrooms in the house, but if you’d prefer something more private, I can give a bit of cleaning to the bunkhouse. We aren’t using it these days, but I don’t think it’s too bad.”
“The bunkhouse will be fine, Mrs. Flannigan. And just leave the cleaning to me. I’m an old hand at it. Actually, I live out of the camper on my truck a good part of the year and can just sleep in there.”
Susannah chuckled. “For several weeks? Nonsense. You’ll be much more comfortable in the bunkhouse. I’ll get fresh linens and cleaning supplies. I hope you like chili. My husband is cooking tonight and it’s one of the few things he makes.”
“Chili sounds great.”
Silence fell when Susannah went inside. Kelly dusted her hands. She couldn’t let Grams handle the cleaning, and while it galled her to do anything for Josh, she would have a chance to ask that he refrain from telling grand rodeo adventure stories to the boys.
“There’s a bathroom in the bunkhouse,” she said briskly. “Everything got a good scrub when we winterized the building, so it shouldn’t be more than dusty.”
“Where do your ranch hands live?”
“Down the road. A neighbor’s husband passed away last summer and her kids aren’t happy about her staying on the property alone. So Mike and Thaddeus board in the Galloping G bunkhouse and work both ranches.”
“That means less help for you, then.”
Kelly shrugged. “They don’t have a lot to do there. The Galloping G is larger than Kindred Ranch, but Dorothy’s husband didn’t do much with it for years. Mostly there’s a small herd of cattle and several horses that Mr. Gillespie loved. We keep horses and cattle there, too. I help by riding fences on both properties and checking on her herd. We also mow and bale quite a bit of hay over there. It works.”
Josh looked surprised. “Don’t her kids want to take over?”
“There are two daughters who live in Helena and a son in Minneapolis, but they aren’t interested in ranching. Dorothy is hoping I can buy the Galloping G someday and let her continue living there.”
“I see.”
* * *
KNOWING HARRY WAS a financial disaster, Josh doubted Kindred Ranch would ever have the funds to buy another spread.
The real issue was whether Casey and Marc were his sons. He’d returned, intending to demand that Kelly tell him the truth, only to decide that discretion was a better idea. Otherwise he could make the situation worse.
Kelly’s uneasiness could simply be that she’d gotten involved with someone else soon after they’d broken up. He didn’t like the idea, but considering how quickly he’d married Doreen, he didn’t have a leg to stand on. For all he knew, she’d had a boyfriend back in Shelton the whole time they were dating. After all, she’d gone back and forth between Kindred Ranch and the rodeos where her father competed.
Susannah came out of the house with an armload of linens and Kathleen followed with a bucket and mop. The two women possessed an ageless beauty; it was easy to see where Kelly got her looks.
“Hello, Josh,” Kathleen said, smiling gently. “How nice to see you again.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
He tried to determine if there was any deception in her face. If she believed he was the twins’ father, he couldn’t see it in her expression. But then, Kathleen was a sweet lady whose health had been fraying during that long-ago summer. Maybe she genuinely didn’t know who had fathered her grandsons.
Josh focused again on Susannah Flannigan. Her eyes were as bright and alert as a meadowlark. In that, Kelly obviously took after her grandmother, rather than her mother.
“We’ll have none of the ma’am and Mrs. nonsense,” Susannah announced firmly. “We’re Susannah and Kathleen to you. And my husband is Liam.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Susannah,” he corrected himself, reaching to take the stack of bedsheets and blankets she carried. His father had strictly taught him to show respect to his elders, particularly women, so it would have been easier to stick with “ma’am” or “Mrs. Flannigan.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll take care of it,” Kelly said, collecting the cleaning supplies from Kathleen. “When is dinner?”
“Not for at least an hour. I’m making corn bread to go with the chili.”
“That should give us enough time to get everything in order. Let us know when you’re ready.” Kelly gestured to the porch, where a heavy iron triangle hung from a hook. It had probably been used for over a hundred years, calling ranch workers to thousands of meals.
“All right, dear.”
Josh followed Kelly to the bunkhouse. She unlatched the door—obviously it wasn’t kept locked—and went inside. He inhaled the scent of ancient timber, permeated with wood smoke. A potbellied stove even stood in the corner.
“Does that thing still work?” he asked, temporarily distracted from questions of fatherhood.
“Few things can go amiss with a properly maintained woodstove,” Kelly said in a dry tone. “But if you’re asking whether the stove pipe is hooked up, then yes, though it hasn’t been used for a while.” She set the bucket and mop next to a table and rolled up her sleeves.
“There’s no need for you to stay. I can handle the cleaning.” Josh wasn’t sure he wanted Kelly there; having a quiet moment to think was appealing. “You were in the barn when I got back, so you must have work left to do.”
Kelly shook her head. “Nothing that can’t wait awhile. Grams is all about hospitality. She and Mom would have had the bunkhouse ready in case it was your preference, but Harry didn’t tell us someone was coming until this morning and they had commitments in town. Something to do with rodeo week. There are a number of activities surrounding the event.”
That sounded like Harry. He was a fine friend, but he probably wasn’t so great with family. Josh understood how Kelly felt, but she was blaming her father’s failings on rodeos and his compulsion to compete. She didn’t see that if Harry hadn’t become obsessed with professional rodeo, he would have found something else to compel him. He was that kind of man.
“I’ll turn on the water and electricity,” Kelly said, heading for the door again.
Josh looked around. The floors had begun as hand-hewn planks, but they’d been worn smooth by decades of contact with heavy boots and polishing. Assorted lamps and braided rag rugs added a cheerful note. Winterization must have been done after their autumn storms, because dust was at a minimum. Overall the building was well maintained and could sleep four, though the original number had likely been eight to ten. Sleeping space would have been sacrificed to add the bathroom, along with the small kitchenette.
Kelly returned, switched on the wall furnace and opened the faucets. They burped and hissed as water replaced the air in the pipes. “It shouldn’t take long for the water to heat if you want a shower,” she said, filling a bucket. “I’ll start in the bathroom.”
He turned on the lamps, then removed the plastic covering from one of the beds and made it up. Sheets and blankets would be a pleasant change from his sleeping bag. The camper was comfortable, but he didn’t bother with the niceties.
“Why keep the potbellied wood burner when there’s a wall furnace?” he called.
“In case the electricity goes out, which it usually does in a storm. Since we’re a distance out of town, it takes longer to get back on the grid again. We have a generator, but mostly to run things like lights and refrigeration. There’s always a huge stock of firewood for when it’s needed.”
It was the logical explanation. Josh would have guessed the reason if he hadn’t been distracted by more disturbing thoughts.
Kelly reappeared and poured something from a bottle onto a dust mop. The smell of lemons rose in the air and she swiftly ran the mop around the room while he made a stab at removing a light layer of dust from the higher surfaces. The bunkhouse was already cleaner than his ranch house in Canada, so he wasn’t sure why they were bothering.
After vacuuming the braided rugs, she took patchwork quilts from a chest and spread them over each of the beds. Since he didn’t think it was for his benefit, he assumed it was a standard custom when the bunkhouse was in use to make it homier.
“This is nice. Thanks,” he said awkwardly. “I’m afraid the bunkhouse on my ranch is much more utilitarian.”
Kelly cocked her head. “How many ranch hands do you employ?”
“Pop keeps tabs on that. We hire extra in spring and summer. I believe we have nine at the moment, but he mentioned planning to advertise for a real cook instead of rotating the duty around. The bunkhouse has space for twenty. We also have a cookhouse with an attached mess hall.”
“What if he hires a woman to cook, or are you opposed to equal opportunity?”
Josh was flummoxed by the idea. Why would a woman want to prepare three squares a day for a bunch of rough-talking cowboys? It would require massive adjustments on everyone’s part.
“Not opposed,” he muttered. “I suppose she could sleep at the main house. My dad will make the decision, but he’ll need someone with a wide range of skills.”
Kelly lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He’d seen the same look on her face when they’d been dating; it usually meant he was going to get nailed on a point of logic. “It’s just that we’d need someone who can be called on for other tasks, like splitting wood, rebuilding a fence or riding out in bad weather to help look for lost animals. That kind of thing.”
“You mean everything I do at Kindred Ranch.”
Right.
Nobody looking at Kelly would think she could tame a horse or split a log, but what was the saying…work smarter, not harder? What she lacked in brute strength, she unquestionably made up for in smarts.
“I’m sure Pop will hire the best-qualified person available,” he said.
“Uh-huh.” Kelly sounded skeptical. She tucked the cleaning supplies into a small utility cabinet and turned around. “Look, I’d be grateful if you don’t talk about bull riding or other events in front of my sons, or encourage Harry to tell stories. The boys already have romanticized ideas about chasing rodeos.”
“It’s a good life,” Josh asserted, though it was unlikely Kelly would change her mind.
Her eyes chilled and she looked more determined than he’d ever seen her. “It might be a good life if you’re in love with performing, but family gets the short end of the stick.”
Josh’s pride instantly went on edge. “I’m an athlete, Kelly, not a performer. Everyone has a purpose at rodeos and bull-riding events, including the clowns. As a matter of fact, rodeo protection athletes are critically important, whether or not they’re dressed in costumes.”
“Oh, please, it’s all a performance,” she scoffed. “Don’t tell me that you don’t love hearing the fans clap and scream and cheer. Rodeos wouldn’t exist if there weren’t spectators and a showman factor.”
“That’s true of any sporting event.”
“I also hope my sons won’t become professional hockey or football players,” Kelly returned promptly.
He glared. It seemed as if all his choices were being put on trial and found lacking. “So you aren’t going to give them a choice. It’s ranching or nothing.”
“Wrong. They have a choice. I just don’t want them being unduly influenced when they’re too young to understand how dangerous competing can be. It’s exciting to hear about winning while sitting at the dinner table or as a bedtime story, but they also don’t get there are only a few big winners and that a huge number of rodeo performers live hand to mouth at best.”
“Ranching can be dangerous, too.”
She nodded. “Sure, but ranchers don’t take risks, just for the sake of putting themselves in danger. That’s exactly what bronco and bull riding is about. Especially bull riding. You’re pitting yourself against a thousand pounds of bad-tempered animal who doesn’t know the game is over once he throws you to the ground or you jump away. There’s no purpose beyond the thrill of challenging yourself, entertaining the crowd and winning.”
Josh didn’t agree that was the whole picture, but he didn’t want to argue the question further.
“Fine. Believe what you want. I’ll do my best not to talk about rodeos,” he said, “but I can’t control your father.”
“Nobody can control Harry. Look, I’m going back to work now. I’ll be in the barn if you need anything.”
She left before he could offer to help—an offer he was certain she would have refused. No one would have guessed they’d once shared something special, or that they’d talked about getting married someday.
* * *
KELLY SWIFTLY TOOK care of one task after another, her mind only half on the routine chores. Having Josh resurface in her life had been the last thing she’d expected.
And appearing in the boys’ lives.
The mental reminder wasn’t needed, though it reaffirmed her conviction that she didn’t want Josh in contact with her sons.
Josh was just as rodeo crazy as Harry. Why couldn’t he realize it was better to retire as a champion than to be overtaken by younger competitors? They were probably already nipping at his heels. Soon they’d start getting the top prizes and turn him into a has-been, trying to hold on after his time. She still remembered the moment she’d recognized the expression in Harry’s eyes when he’d looked at a cocky young bull rider and known he was outmatched. At thirty-two. The same age Josh was now.
Bull and bronco riding, in particular, were a young man’s game. There was the National Senior Pro Rodeo Association that held its own rodeos and finals event, but her father wouldn’t join. He simply refused to acknowledge that in the rodeo world, the march of time had already marched over him.
Lightfoot remained on edge when she went into his stall to finish his grooming. Horses were sensitive and he always knew when she was upset. She’d been there when he was born and had worked with him every day since.
“Hey, boy,” she murmured as she fed him a carrot, then took out a soft cloth to run over his body. The ritual helped calm them both. “Settle down. Everything will be okay.”
The stallion nickered and nuzzled her neck. They were the best of friends and he likely sensed her doubt. She didn’t know if everything would be all right. The idea of Josh finding out about the boys and filing for custody, or even just asking for visitation rights, had often kept her awake at night. Now the possibility had become very real.
“Hey, boss. Let me finish up in here.”
She looked over at Thaddeus. He was the eldest of their ranch hands and had gone through high school with her mother. Kelly suspected he’d once been in love with a young Kathleen Flannigan, but he didn’t seem to resent Harry, so maybe she was wrong. On the other hand, he had stayed at Kindred Ranch, even though there were larger spreads where he could have had the chance to become a foreman. Was it to remain close to a woman he cared about?
“Thanks, Thad. Where’s Mike?”
“Looking in on the mares in the foaling barn. Mrs. Gillespie is expecting us for dinner, but he’ll be back later.”
Kelly and the ranch hands had been taking turns sleeping in the foaling barn to keep an eye on the pregnant mares.
“You know perfectly well that it’s my turn,” she said firmly. “Tell Mike to get a good night’s sleep.”
“But you have a guest.”
“Josh McKeon is Harry’s guest, not mine, and he’s going to be here for a while. Besides, Fiona Chance is close to having her foal. She might deliver tonight, which means I’ll be up with her, regardless.”
Thaddeus bobbed his head, accepting her decision. He must have seemed dull to her mother in contrast to Harry Beaumont, who was far more colorful and charming. But Kelly appreciated Thaddeus’s solemn, responsible nature. She couldn’t rely on her father to wake up regularly and check the mares, no matter how good his intentions might be, while the two ranch hands were utterly trustworthy.
The iron triangle on the porch clanged and she gave Thaddeus a smile. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Josh emerged from the bunkhouse as she stepped out of the barn. He’d changed into a newer pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt. Generally folks didn’t dress up for dinner on ranches, but it was customary to come to the table clean and neat. She hurried inside to wash and change her own clothes, racing back to the dining room in time to hear Harry introducing Josh to her grandfather.
“Nice to meet you, Josh,” said Granddad. “Hope you don’t object to mild chili. Half of us like it spicy. The other half doesn’t. In particular, my great-grandsons. They don’t appreciate food that bites them back.”
* * *
JOSH CHUCKLED OBLIGINGLY at the older man’s joke. “I enjoy it both mild and hot, sir.”
“It’s Liam. Any which way, we have cayenne powder and pepper sauce, so you can spice it up to your preference.”
“Hi, Josh,” called a young voice.
Josh thought it was the boy he’d spoken to earlier. “Hi. It’s Marc, right? And your twin brother is Casey.”
The kid’s smile broadened. “Cool. Nobody can tell us apart, except at home. Are you coming, Casey?” he called toward the kitchen.
“Duh.” His brother came out clutching a large bowl filled with squares of corn bread, followed by his grandmother and great-grandmother.
“Hello, Casey,” Josh said.
“Are you really a rodeo champion?” asked the boy.
Josh cast a swift glance at Kelly. He couldn’t read her expression and shrugged mentally. If he couldn’t control her father, he also couldn’t control her sons. “I compete often enough. What grade are you in school?”
“We’re in the first grade,” Marc broke in. “But they don’t let us be in the same class because we’re twins. It isn’t fair. Me ’n’ Casey do everything together.”
Considering the annoyed look Marc received from his brother, Josh suspected Casey wasn’t overly concerned about being in a separate class. Was that the only way he got a word in edgewise without fighting for it?
“What’s your favorite subject, Casey?”
“History,” he replied quickly. “Today we learned Montana became a state in 1889. But I already knew that part.”
“I don’t know US history as well as Canadian history,” Josh admitted. “That’s where I was born.”
“My teacher says you have queens and kings instead of presidents in Canada,” Marc said. “Do you bow to Queen Elizabeth?” He put one arm across his stomach and the other across his back and gave him an exaggerated bow.
Josh tried not to smile. “I’ve never met the queen, but I would probably bow to her as a courtesy.”
“That’s what Grandpa Harry says,” Casey rushed to say. “But Canada has a different prime minister than they have in England. Right?”
“Boys, sit down and let our guest catch his breath,” Susannah ordered. “Liam, will you dish up the chili?”
“Of course, dear.”
Generous bowls were handed around the table along with the corn bread.
“You can lighten up with this if you’d like,” Susannah said, passing a tray piled high with chopped onions, diced tomatoes and bell peppers, along with grated cheese. “Normally we eat healthier, but Liam volunteered to help today in the kitchen. It doesn’t happen very often, so I take advantage whenever possible.”
Liam chuckled. “Don’t believe her, Josh. My dishpan hands speak for themselves. My wife just doesn’t like me competing with her when it comes to chili—she enters a cook-off every year during rodeo week.”
Josh didn’t believe either one of them. They seemed to be a close and loving couple, two equally strong-willed individuals who’d managed to live together for decades without killing each other. It was quite an accomplishment.
“I’m sure you work things out. Anyway, a homemade meal is a treat.” He ate a spoonful of the tender meat crowding his bowl, flavored with the smoky essence of chipotle peppers. The sweet corn bread and hearty flavor of the chili blended well together. “I don’t get anything close to this on the road. And the chow at my ranch is even worse.”
“Hey, I love rodeo food,” Harry protested.
“Josh mentioned his father runs his ranch when he’s gone,” Kelly volunteered, changing the subject. “They’re planning to hire a cook instead of rotating the duty around the cowhands. Do we know anyone who might be interested in applying for the job?”
Liam looked thoughtful. “Could be. I can ask in town.”
“They’re open to hiring a woman,” she said sweetly, “so I wondered about Nellie Pruitt. She’s bossy, but that’s from cooking at the high school for twenty years. Anyone who can ride herd on all those teenagers wouldn’t have trouble with a bunch of cowhands. She might welcome a change now that her husband is gone.”
Josh groaned silently.
Whatever game Kelly was playing, he didn’t think it was intended to end well for him.