Once Upon a Cowboy Read online

  "It's a—"

  "Never you mind." She waved a soup spoon in the air. "It don't matter what it is. I'm not fixing it. Fact is, I'm not fixing another blamed thing until that banty hen's back scratchin' in her own yard."

  "You'd let the guests starve?" Holt demanded.

  "Darned tootin' I would. I'm going to my sister's place. When Miss Fancy Pants decides to hightail her citified caboose outta my path, I'll consider returning. In the meantime, you can go whistle for your vittles." With that she slammed down the spoon and snatched off her apron.

  Cami sighed. She'd learned from their occasional run-ins that Agnes was more bluff than action. The crusty housekeeper just needed to feel needed, to feel one of the family. "They're going to announce their engagement," she explained.

  Agnes stopped dead. "Come again?"

  "Momma and Frank. That's the surprise. That's why she'd like everything all elegant and everything. They're going to announce their engagement."

  "Well, now. Well..." Temporarily speechless, Agnes sat down at the table. "You don't say. Why doesn't anybody tell me these things? Don't I count any more?" She rounded on Holt. "Did you know about this?"

  He shrugged. "I suspected."

  She shook her head in wonder. "I'll be. A weddin'." She sniffed, dabbing the corner of her eye with a dishrag. "I always did have a soft spot for a weddin'."

  "Momma's being very brave," Cami said, shooting a sidelong glance at Holt. "Ever since Poppa died, she's been a bit gun shy."

  Agnes nodded sagely. "She's not the only one. I know someone else who's gun shy when it comes to trippin' down the aisle again."

  "It's because of that city slicker," Cami said.

  "They're the ruination of many a fine man," the housekeeper concurred, with a surprisingly companionable nod. "A rancher needs a proper wife who'll stick by him through the hard times as well as the good." She stared at Cami, her eyes narrowing. "Somebody like you, Tex."

  So she'd finally been accepted by the ornery woman. Cami buried a smile. "You're forgetting. I'm a city slicker, too."

  "Maybe. But you're a cowboy at heart," Agnes insisted, giving her official stamp of approval.

  "That's not possible," Cami heaved a sigh. "I have it on very good authority that cowboys are heartless."

  Agnes reared back. "Who told you that?"

  "Holt."

  He hurled his hat to the floor. "That's not what I said and you damned well know it."

  Cami jumped to her feet. "You said that cowboying isn't in the blood or in the heart. But if it's not there, I'd like to know just where the heck it is."

  He thrust his face into hers. "I said, you crazy female, that cowboying is a learned skill, not a state of mind."

  "You think a body can't be a cowboy unless they're born and grow up on a ranch." She planted her hands on her hips, refusing to back down. "Well, I'm here to tell you, you're wrong."

  Agnes looked from one to the other. Then she folded her arms across her ample bosom. "Amen to that, sister," she said, with a decisive switch of allegiance.

  He spun in his tracks. "You have a hell of a lot to say for somebody who doesn't work for me any more." Then he turned on Cami, jabbing an index finger beneath her nose. "As for you, I won't be conned by another city slicker. You may fool Agnes with your cowboy act, but you don't fool me."

  "Huh!" Agnes snorted. "The only fool I see is standing there flappin' his jaw."

  Holt picked up his Stetson and slapped it on his head. "Woman, if you hadn't already quit, you'd be fired." And with that, he strode from the room.

  "Don't threaten me!" Agnes shot after him. "Or I'll really quit. And then where'd you be? Up a creek, that's where." With a satisfied smile at having gotten the final word, she tied her apron around her ample waist and returned to the stove. "Now. What the Sam Hill's a pettie, do you suppose? Pull my cookbook off that shelf over there, Tex, and look it up. We've an engagement party to plan."

  * * *

  A week passed and nothing changed. Though Cami continued to revel in ranch life, she longed to share her excitement and enthusiasm with Holt. But he'd erected a barrier between them, a barrier she couldn't seem to circumvent. Not even with kisses.

  Slowly determination built. Somehow, someway she'd prove him wrong, prove that she belonged on a ranch, that this lifestyle was as much a part of her, as it was him. So she bided her time and quietly went about her job, perfecting her skills, always intent on finding a way to win him over.

  The morning of the weekly wiener roast she noticed him exiting the ranch house wearing a business suit. She pulled up short, her mouth falling open.

  "Good golly," she breathed. "That you, Holt?"

  "It's me, all right." His dark eyes gleamed with amusement. "Close your mouth, Tex. The flies around here are none too tasty."

  "You're in a business suit."

  "Now, don't rub it in," he carped. "Sheer necessity is the only reason I'd torture myself wearing these city duds."

  She circled him. Six feet and three inches of raw, lean muscle filled out a business suit real fine, she decided. Black pinstripe strained across his broad shoulders and molded the powerful muscles of his thighs. A thick leather belt with a rodeo buckle encircled his lean hips. And at his throat, a large silver-rimmed piece of onyx anchored the braided bola that substituted for a necktie. The only familiar articles he wore were his black Stetson and his boots.

  "You sure do look swell," she said in admiration. "Going someplace special?"

  "Not to my way of thinking. I have a business meeting with some cattle brokers. I've found it's smart to look the part of the prosperous cowman. For some reason, they give me a better price."

  She frowned. "But what about this afternoon's horseback ride and wiener roast? Will you return in time for that?"

  "I'll have to give it a miss, I'm afraid. Gabby can lead it."

  Cami clasped her hands together, a sudden thought occurring to her. It was perfect. The perfect way to impress Holt with her improved cowboy skills. "Would you let me lead it, instead?" she asked, hoping it didn't sound too much begging. Even if she was.

  He didn't hesitate for a second. "No."

  She talked fast. "I remember where to take them. I've been there at least a half dozen times. You just go over the ridge to the rock with the moss mustache and hang a left. Go down the gully past that funny stump that looks like a porcupine with his quills in an uproar. Turn right. Sing one verse of 'The Worms Crawl In.' Hang a sharp left and we're there. Am I right?"

  "Right. No."

  She talked faster. "Once there, I have everyone dismount. Build a fire. You taught me how yourself, if you remember. Roast the wieners. I hardly burn 'em at all anymore. I'd be extra careful this time. I'll be sure to wait until the cold stuff becomes hot stuff, then yank them out of the fire before we get to the black and flaming part. Not to mention, the face full of water part. That should count for something, don't you think? And I have the songs we're supposed to sing down pat. Eat. I handle the eating part real well. Put out the fire. Come home. What's so hard about that?"

  "Nothing," he said flatly. "But you'd find a way to screw it up, anyway."

  It was difficult to argue with fact. "Aw, Holt..."

  He shook his head. "You're not experienced enough. Gabby will lead the group."

  Crestfallen, she nodded. "Yessir, boss. Whatever you say."

  He smiled encouragingly. "You're doing fine, Tex. No need to rush it. There's plenty of time."

  "Is there?" she whispered forlornly. "The summer's half gone already. And we've only galloped that once. I miss galloping." She dared shoot him a hopeful glance. "Don't you?"

  He hooked her collar and gave a fast yank, tumbling her into his arms. A hard, thorough kiss followed. "Your timing stinks, you know that?"

  She refused to back down. "Name a better time and I'll be there."

  He closed his eyes, but the instant he opened them again, Cami knew she'd won. "Tonight." He set her from him. "Now, I've got to shak
e a leg or I'll miss my appointment."

  "I plan to hold you to your word about tonight," she warned.

  He turned, his gaze practically eating her alive. "A cowboy, a real cowboy is always true to his horse, true to his woman, and true to his word," he quoted softly. "Until tonight, Tex."

  * * *

  Two hours later, Gabby and the adults were saddled and ready to leave. One bitty problem. The children hadn't returned from their hayride.

  "If we're going to have the wiener roast and get back before dark, we'll have to push off soon," Gabby complained. "Who's pulling that hay wagon, anyway? Josh? He knows better than to run late."

  "Look," Cami said, pointing down the dirt road. "I see their dust. Why don't I saddle the children's horses and you all go ahead. We'll follow right behind."

  Gabby scratched his jaw. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Tex. No point in taking unnecessary chances. We can wait for them. There should be enough time."

  "But if you leave now," Cami argued, "you can get the fire started and we won't be so rushed. If you wait for the children, we'll have to tear out there, hurry and eat, and tear back. How much fun is that?"

  He frowned. "I don't know what Holt would say about splittin' the group," he muttered. "I surely don't."

  She offered her most confident and winning smile. "I can handle this. I'm positive. Besides, we'll catch up with you in no time."

  That might help square things with Holt when he heard about this, she thought, suppressing a guilty twinge. More importantly, it would be the perfect opportunity to demonstrate her improved cowboy skills. Holt would be impressed. He'd be proud. Maybe he'd even come to love her, instead of just making love to her.

  She could dream, couldn't she?

  "Well... I guess it'd be okay," Gabby relented.

  "Thanks!" Cami exclaimed, and threw her arms around the cowhand.

  He thrust her away. "Hey, hey! Whatcha doin'?"

  "Hugging you," she replied, bewildered. "Why?"

  "Cowboys don't hug," he blustered. "Fact is, no matter what some movies might have you believe, cowboys don't even touch. Now keep yer distance." He stomped over to his horse. "Danged female. You have the supplies?"

  "In my saddlebags," she assured him. "Wieners, beans, cocoa and marshmallows."

  "And I've got the matches." He mounted up. "You'll be right behind?"

  "Practically on your tail."

  He nodded. "Let's go folks."

  Cami hurried into the barn and saddled four horses for the children. By the time she finished, the wagon arrived and jerked to a stop. Three boys and a girl tumbled off the hay and ran to her side.

  "Is it time for the wiener roast?"

  "Can you show us some more yo-yo tricks?"

  "Yes, it's time for the wiener roast. And, no, no tricks until we catch up with your parents. They've gone ahead. So, run inside and get a drink. Use the facilities if you have to, but move along."

  Fifteen minutes later they were ready to leave. Cami made sure they had sweaters and sunscreen, and they'd filled their canteens and wore their hats. Satisfied that everyone appeared in fine fettle, she led the way into the mountains.

  "Okay, kids, over the ridge to the rock with the moss mustache."

  "Hey, Tex," Nathan called. "You bring extra yo-yos with you?"

  "Does a horse swat flies with his tail?" she scoffed. "Of course I brought extra yo-yos. Why, by the time I'm done with you four, you'll amaze and delight your friends back home. I'll bet—"

  "Is that the rock with the mustache?" asked Katie Sue, pointing.

  Cami stared. "By golly, so it is. Hang a right everybody and head down into that gully. When you see a big, old stump that looks like a pincushion, give a holler. Now where was I? Oh, yeah. You'll amaze and delight your friends back home. Why, I'll bet—"

  "There's the stump!" Aaron cried.

  Cami stopped and studied it. It seemed smaller. But how many stumps could there be with a bejillion branches sticking out of it? Maybe the lack of rain over the past week had caused it to shrink a bit. "Terrific job, Aaron. Turn left. Now for the important part. Everybody has to sing a rousing chorus of 'The Worms Crawl In.' It's the only way I can tell how far before our last turn."

  The children sang with gusto. "One more time!" Gary shouted.

  Cami frowned. One more time? They should be at the final turn by now. Yet it was nowhere in sight. "I think we've gone too far," she said. "I'll tell you what. Let's go back the way we came. We can repeat the song and when we're done, we'll be at the porcupine stump again."

  "The one like a pincushion?" Katie Sue asked.

  "Yep. So keep an eye out for it, okay?"

  They wended their way through that song, another about eating worms, and a third that involved rearranging various body parts in strange and uncomfortable positions.

  They never did find the stump.

  Cami tried her best to conceal her concern, not wanting to frighten the children. But the later it grew, the more nervous and alarmed she became, especially when the sun slid relentlessly behind the mountains. Soon she struggled to pick their way across the rocky terrain.

  "I'm hungry," Nathan spoke up.

  "Me, too," the others agreed.

  "Aren't we there yet?" Katie Sue, the youngest, looked distinctly tearful.

  Cami reined in Petunia. "No, I'm afraid we're not." She studied the surrounding landscape and came to a fast decision. "I've got an idea," she announced. "Let's have an adventure."

  The boys glanced at each other, excited. Katie Sue didn't appear quite as thrilled. "What kind of adventure?" Aaron asked.

  "A camping out kind of adventure. See that nice open spot over the next ridge?" She pointed to a level area at the top of a grassy knoll. "We'll park our horses there and build a roaring fire and eat our wieners and beans. After that we'll toast marshmallows and drink cocoa and sing more songs."

  "All right!" Gary exclaimed. "Food."

  "I'll sing," Katie Sue consented. "But no more worm songs."

  "Fair enough. No more worm songs." Cami led the way to their chosen camping spot and dismounted. "Before we do anything else, there's something that comes first. Who knows what it is?"

  Nathan scratched his nose. "Firewood."

  "Phone Mommy and tell her what time I'll be home."

  "Can't. Cellphones don't work," Gary informed her. "I know! The wieners."

  Aaron gave it great thought. "Take care of the horses," he finally said.

  Cami grinned. "You got it, buster. Horses first, firewood second, wieners last."

  "I want to phone Mommy, anyway" Katie Sue insisted.

  "That might be a little more difficult." She decided to stall. "We'll discuss it over dinner."

  After watering the horses at a nearby stream, stripping them of their saddles and allowing them to graze, Cami had the children collect a plentiful supply of firewood.

  "What about matches?" Aaron asked.

  For an instant, Cami panicked. Gabby had the matches. And without matches there'd be no fire. No fire. No food. No warmth. And no light to comfort the children through the long night. She fought for control. Take it easy! Think. What did they do before matches? Maybe she could rub two sticks together.

  She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head pityingly. "You city slickers are all alike. You have to use a match to build a simple fire. That's truly pathetic."

  Gary lifted his chin. "Says who? I'm a Boy Scout. We always come prepared." With that, he stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a flint. "Just watch."

  He gathered a large supply of dry leaves and tiny twigs and arranged them in a loose mound. Aaron and Nathan quickly followed his example. So did Katie Sue, though with a bit more reluctance.

  To Cami's amazement, Gary soon had a tiny flame flickering to life at the base of the mound. He fed the flame with more leaves and twigs and before long had a small fire going. It didn't take much to build it from a small fire to a large roaring one.

  "If
that don't beat all," she muttered. Working quickly, she formed a sizeable fire ring with stones. "Get sticks for the wieners. I'll open the cans of beans and warm them up. We'll be chowing down before you know it."

  Dark had just settled in when they finished off the last hot dog and scooped up the last bean. Nathan and Gary started on the marshmallows. Katie Sue stole close to Cami for a cuddle. She gave herself an entire two minutes to regret missing out on a night spent in Holt's arms. Maybe he was right. Maybe their relationship wasn't meant for permanent, only temporary. No doubt he'd use this incident to prove his point... as well he should. She'd taken a foolish risk, one she'd spend the night regretting.

  "Okay, kids, time to talk," Cami announced.

  Aaron gazed at her from across the fire. "We're lost, aren't we?" he asked.

  Katie Sue started in alarm. "I wouldn't call it lost, exactly," Cami hastened to correct, reassuring the little girl with a hug. "Let's just say we're temporarily mislaid."

  "What does that mean?" Nathan questioned.

  "It means," she confessed, "that tomorrow Holt will come and help us find our way back to the ranch. Until then, we get to stay up late and tell stories and sleep under the stars. How does that sound?"

  "Decent!" Gary said.

  Greatly encouraged, she expanded on the idea. "We'll use our saddles for pillows and sleep on our saddle blankets, like real cowboys."

  "What if I get cold?" Katie Sue demanded fretfully.

  "It's going to be pretty warm tonight, but we've got the fire in case it turns chilly. And you can always snuggle close to me." To Cami's relief, the little girl relaxed. "Okay, boys, look through the saddlebags and find my yo-yos. There's one for each of you. Who wants to learn Dunk the Doughnut?"

  Nathan's hand shot up. "I would, I would."

  "Forget Dunk the Doughnut,' Tex," a deep voice spoke from the darkness. At the same time Git burst through the circle of children, barking hysterically.

  Cami shot to her feet. "Holt?" she gasped. "Is that you?"

  He stepped into the firelight, the leaping flames casting a devilish glow across his hard, furious features. "Oh, yeah, Tex. It's me. And instead of Dunk the Doughnut, why don't you show them Hang the Wrangler. Better yet, why don't I show them?"