A Cowboy Summer, page 1
“Close your eyes, and no peeking.”
“Okay,” McKenna said, “just don’t let me fall and pull us both into the water.”
“Cowboy’s promise,” Coop said, feeling just a bit silly saying that, but it made her smile and her hand tightened on his as she closed her eyes.
He walked slowly into the bend, making sure she had her footing by the side of the stream, then at the right moment, he stopped. Letting go of her hand, he said, “Keep your eyes shut,” then he moved to one side so he could see her face. “Okay, open your eyes.”
He watched her hesitate, then her eyes opened. She blinked and whispered, “Wow,” in a voice that was touched with wonder. The huge rock with a five-foot-wide split down the middle was just a rock, but it was beyond special to McKenna. She stared up at it, tipping her head back to look at the flat top, at least twenty feet above the stream.
Dear Reader,
Life gets hard, and even the best of us seeks some reprieve—even if it’s only temporary. A Cowboy Summer is the story of Cooper Donovan, rodeo superstar, who wants relief from the chaos of his professional life. He heads to Wyoming, to his family’s Flaming Sky Ranch. He wants to be alone.
McKenna Walker, a pediatrician in a neonatal ICU, has failed in love and is facing burnout on her job. When a friend offers her an isolated Wyoming getaway near amazing hiking trails, she accepts—hiking is stress therapy for her. She wants to be alone.
When they end up at the same place, they find fate doesn’t ask permission but gives them a chance to find out that simply holding hands can give two people a completeness that they never thought they’d find.
I hope you enjoy their cowboy summer journey.
Safe ride,
Mary Anne
A Cowboy Summer
Mary Anne Wilson
Mary Anne Wilson is a Canadian transplanted to California, where her life changed dramatically. She found her happily-ever-after with her husband, Tom, and their family. She always loved writing, reading and has a passion for anything Jane Austen. She’s had fifty novels published with Harlequin, been nominated for a RITA® Award, won Reviewers’ Choice Awards and received RWA’s Career Achievement Award in Romantic Suspense.
Books by Mary Anne Wilson
Harlequin Heartwarming
Flaming Sky Ranch
A Cowboy’s Christmas Joy
Eclipse Ridge Ranch
Under a Christmas Moon
Her Wyoming Hero
A Cowboy’s Hope
The Carsons of Wolf Lake
A Question of Honor
Flying Home
A Father’s Stake
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
For Tom:
Memories of holding hands make my heart smile.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EXCERPT FROM A SINGLE DAD IN AMISH COUNTRY BY PATRICIA JOHNS
CHAPTER ONE
Wyoming, Mid-June
COOPER DONOVAN, aka Flaming Coop D, championship saddle bronc rider and the golden boy of rodeos, had his best-laid plans to get down to the main stable on Flaming Sky Ranch without anyone seeing him shattered by a voice screeching behind him: “Flaming Coop D! OMG, it’s you! It’s you!” His heart sank.
He hadn’t even reached his horse’s stall and was dressed like a ranch hand in a faded cap with the ranch’s logo on it, along with torn jeans and a T-shirt that read “No Ride’s a Bad Ride.” He’d thought no one would look at him twice and that all the guests who’d come for the Junior Rodeo Trials this weekend would be in the arena where the action was.
One obviously wasn’t. Coop considered not turning around, but he couldn’t help it when the intruder said, “You don’t know how happy you make me and my boy, Charlie. He wants to be just like you.”
Bracing himself, he turned to find a thirtysomething woman dressed in jeans and a Flaming Sky Ranch T-shirt. Her hat was a newer version of the one he was wearing. He felt awful, but he didn’t want to admit who he was, so he tried to deflect and distract. “Ma’am, guests aren’t allowed back here.”
She ignored what he said and took a step toward him, so he tugged his cap lower—that was about all he could do. “Coop, I’m just so happy to see you up close and personal. We go to as many of your shows as we can. You’re so great.”
He gave her his best fake puzzled look. “Please, the stables are private during any rodeo event.”
“Sure, okay. I’m sorry, I got lost, then when I saw you here, I just had to tell you how much we love what you do and that you’re such a good example for my boy.”
He really felt like a heel, but if he confirmed who he was, he knew it would leak out, and he’d have to leave town. “Ma’am, I need to get back to my work, so please go back to the arena. I don’t want to lose my job.”
She faltered for a second, then looked embarrassed. He hated to see that. None of this was her fault. “I was just thinking if you were Coop that I could get an autograph for Charlie. I’m real sorry for interrupting.”
He knew how important his fans were to his career, and he didn’t want her to go away disappointed. He took out his cell phone and tapped his top speed-dial number. “Please, just wait a minute,” he said to the woman, and then he heard his mother’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Coop, what’s going on?”
“Mrs. Donovan, I’m in the main stable grooming Blaze, and a nice lady’s here. She and her son are big fans of Flaming Coop D, and she would sure appreciate an autographed picture and maybe a little something to go with it.”
“I thought Abel had that section blocked off. Okay, what’s the boy’s name?”
“Ma’am, what’s your son’s name?”
“Charlie Denton.”
The name sounded familiar to him, but he had no idea why. “Charlie Denton,” he repeated to his mom.
“Coop, that’s Sandy Denton’s boy. The family moved into town about a year ago. I think her boy’s around eight. Tell her to find me at the main entry to the arena by the snack booth. I’ll take care of her son.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Donovan. I’ll tell her.”
He put away his phone and told Sandy Denton where to find Coop Donovan’s mother. Her sudden grin and an excited, “Thank you, thank you. The Donovans are so wonderful!” made him feel even worse. But he figured her boy would be beyond happy with a Flaming Coop D autographed picture and whatever else his mother would give her.
As soon as she hurried off and he was alone, he saddled up Blaze and headed in the opposite direction from the main house and the arena. He went north until he found the switchback that led up to the old part of the ranch in the foothills. He’d come back home—actually, he’d snuck back onto the property in the evening—two weeks ago without being seen. He’d wanted to be out of sight to relax, regroup and to heal the ribs he’d bruised at his last show getting off the bronc who he’d just made angrier by getting in eight seconds on his back to win the ride. The injury was minor in the scheme of things, but he needed to focus and reset himself before he went back to training in a week, then onto the circuit again.
He needed no one to know about his location. But now, this lovely mom who loved her son would be going back and telling everyone about the ranch hand she met who looked just like Flaming Coop D. Maybe she’d start talking to her friends who would talk to their friends, and they’d figure out that he’d tried to pull one over on her.
Self-preservation had kicked in, and now he was riding to the one place he’d always felt safe and out of the way: the original house his Grandpa Maxima Donovan had built sixty years ago. In the years since, he’d spread the Donovan land down in the valley below and developed the hugely successful Flaming Sky Ranch. It was where Coop had been born and raised. Now, he couldn’t chance staying in the valley any longer, so the old adobe house tucked away in the hills would be his safe place for the next week.
* * *
COOP WOKE SLOWLY to balmy air brushing his face and found himself lying on the uncomfortable wooden bench on the porch of his grandpa’s old house. He opened his eyes and stared up at the heavy beams that supported the overhang above him. He must have been exhausted to have fallen asleep there and slept right through the night.
That had not been a stellar moment for him yesterday, but today Charlie would be wearing a brand-new Flaming Coop D hat, or maybe a shirt. Knowing his mother, the kid would probably be wearing both and clutching his autographed picture.
Coop was still wearing what he’d had on when he’d left the stables last night, all except for his boots and hat. He eased himself to a sitting position and spotted the cap perched on top of the boots on the single step up to the porch. He stood to retrieve his boots, ignoring the hat and sat on the porch step to tug them on. He raked his fingers through his unruly black hair with a sigh an
He touched his chest on his left side and pressed against his middle ribs. Nothing. No pain and no discomfort. His bruising was healed, and he was good every other way physically. He knew he could leave now and be fine to go back into the arena, but he didn’t want to, not yet. He’d take the next week and spend that time up here, alone with no visitors—no matter how well meaning—and he’d do what he wanted to do.
A glance up at the eastern sky awash with early morning pastels was enough to cement his resolve. He had no appointments, no shows that he had to get ready for, no physical therapy, and no business meetings that demanded his attention. It was just him for seven days with Blaze. He felt a bit like the kid he’d been when he used to sneak up to the old place by himself. This was where he’d dreamed about being old enough to join the rodeo circuit and become a world champion like his dad.
With the tryouts being held again today, he couldn’t risk riding back down there to the main house, where he’d spent the last two weeks, thinking he could become invisible to anyone he came across if he dressed like a ranch hand and kept his head down. But he needed fresh clothes and some staples. The old house had been cleaned out a long time ago. He’d call down to get what he needed brought to the foot of the switchback. No strangers wandered around there, and he could pick it up later.
The balminess of the morning breeze made the thought of a brisk swim in the stream-fed pond very appealing. He’d swim first, then he’d ride. He hadn’t been riding on this part of the ranch for a very long time, and he wasn’t going miss the chance right in front of him. He had nothing but time, and he’d make every minute he had up here count.
He heard his cell phone ring, and at first, he wasn’t sure where the sound was coming from. He looked around and saw it under the bench. Stretching, he managed to get it without standing and looked at the caller ID. Luke Patton, a good friend and the local veterinarian, was calling. He picked up. “Good morning, Luke. You’re up early.”
When Luke answered, “I never went to bed,” Coop knew the call was important.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ve been up all night talking with Archie Newman, a vet over on the Utah border. Archie had some horses brought in from a raid on a breeding ranch over there a day ago. Two horses were too damaged to survive, and Archie had to put them down, but he thinks the other two might stand a chance if we could take them in here. He’s tight on space and help, and he’ll have to make a choice he doesn’t want to make if he can’t find a place for them.”
Coop exhaled. “How bad are they?”
“The pictures Archie sent were horrific, but I think they stand a chance. Their treatment won’t be easy or cheap if we take them. I didn’t want to call you about this, but what I have left in the charity funds this month isn’t going to be enough.”
Coop never did get used to what so-called human beings could do to an animal. He tried to keep his voice low and even. “I can’t give you much of my time, but I can support you financially. The thing is, I’m no mind reader, so you have to tell me exactly how much we’re talking about.”
“Sorry, Coop. I thought I could manage until I saw the photos Archie sent me and figured out what it might involve.”
“Forget sorry. You took Blaze in when I found him half dead after being abused, and you worked a miracle saving his life. Don’t ever apologize to me for asking for help so you can help other horses like Blaze. Just tell me what you need.”
He heard Luke clear his throat. “Transportation, ASAP. It would take too much time to send my trailer to Utah to bring them back, and Archie asked everyone he knows but came up empty.”
“Call Henry. My bet is he’ll know someone who can transport them as quickly as possible from that end. He isn’t just the best mechanic and body man around—he knows people who know people.”
“Good call. I’ll contact him.”
“What else do you need?” Coop asked.
Luke laid everything out, then added, “I need it all on-site when the horses arrive.” Then he gave Luke an estimate of the overall cost. It was a lot, but Coop didn’t ask any questions. He trusted Luke completely.
“Tell you what. I’ll arrange to have the money deposited into the Simply Sanctuary Horse Rescue account, then I’ll put you on my private funds account and approve you to transfer what you need when you need it. That’ll simplify everything. When you need it, take it. I’ll arrange that as soon as I get off the phone.”
“Where are you?” Luke asked.
Coop hesitated but told the truth. “Grandpa’s old place.”
“How long have you been back?”
“A couple of weeks. I don’t want anyone beyond family and close friends to know I’m up here. I needed a break from everything before I head back in a week.”
“That’s the place to be to pick up the pieces,” Luke said.
“Yes, it is. Listen to me. Don’t be too proud to ask for help.”
“I’m working on that,” Luke said. “Safe ride, Coop.”
“You, too,” Coop said and ended the call. In five minutes, he’d transferred the money to Luke’s Sanctuary account and approved Luke’s use of his private funds. With that done, his next thought was to get Blaze ready, walk him down to the pond, swim until he shriveled up then ride off on a whim.
He went indoors to find something he could fill up with water to take with him and realized it had been almost three years since he’d stepped inside the house. It looked pretty much the way it had for as long as he could remember, except for a few improvements in the great room. A sturdy-looking iron-framed bed by the side window had replaced the sagging double bed that he and his brothers had used back in the day. He obviously hadn’t made it there last night, collapsing on the old wooden bench instead. A forest-green couch that he remembered having seen in his parents’ storage shed had found its way into the house to take the place of a sofa bed that had been pure torture to sleep on.
An old table under the front window near the door had been around long enough to have the names of most of the Donovan clan carved into its top. His was there twice. Once as Cooper Donovan and once as Flaming Coop D, carved when he’d been ten years old. His grandpa had admired it. “That boy’s got dreams,” he’d heard his grandpa say to his dad. The older man understood dreams. The Donovans’ Flaming Sky Ranch had been his dream that had come true.
He went over to the tiny kitchen in a small nook on the other side of the door. A short counter along the sidewall held a shallow sink serviced by an old-fashioned hand pump for water. A two-burner propane stove sat beside a half-size refrigerator that he’d never seen before. He crossed to open its door and found a half-full bottle of water, ketchup, dill pickles and an unopened bottle of champagne. He took the bottled water out and dumped its contents into the sink. He had no idea how long it had been there, and stale water was one of his dislikes.
After he’d filled it from the pump, he looked up at the mirror that had hung over the sink for as long as he could remember. He’d sat there more than once to watch his grandpa shave with an old-fashioned blade razor. As a kid, he’d always thought how brave Grandpa Donovan had been to use that razor when he could have cut his throat trying to shave. The man had never drawn his own blood, and Coop had never tried to shave with a straight edge.
He didn’t like shaving very much, so he only did it when he felt like it. He hadn’t felt like it for more than a few days, and he didn’t feel like it today. He worked the pump on the sink, captured some water in his free hand and splashed it on his face. Then he finger-combed his black hair back and noticed gray showing at the temples in the mottled mirror. He and Caleb, his identical twin, were born just minutes apart. He was the younger of the two, but he knew he looked older than his brother. His tan was deeper, his eyes had more lines at the corners, deeper brackets framed his mouth, and he’d bruised his ribs on a maneuver that any rookie would have made safely.
