The Cowboy Code. Christine Wenger
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act like a parent. When Maggie finally confronted Danny about his silent treatment and rude remarks toward Steve, the boy had admitted that he thought Maggie was going to marry Steve and that they wouldn’t want him.
Realizing how frightened her nephew was of losing the only family he had left, Maggie explained that Steve was just a friend, and that Danny would always be first and foremost in her life.
Now, though, it seemed that Danny’s old insecurities were resurfacing. But she hoped that Cowboy Quest would finally put her fears to rest. Sure, Joe was out of the ordinary and handsome enough to be a leading man, but Maggie had enough to deal with right now without adding romance to her life. Besides, she was too worried about Danny’s future to think about starting something with Joe, or anyone else for that matter.
She’d have to try and explain that to her nephew and encourage him to take this program more seriously. He didn’t seem to care that he could be placed in foster care.
As she watched Joe and Danny hauling luggage together, she looked up at the vibrant colors of the setting sun and said a little prayer that Joe would be able to reach the boy.
Joe motioned for her to join them. “Maggie, come and see the bunkhouse. It’s not much, but Danny’s going to call it home for six weeks.”
They walked in silence with nothing but the crunch of the gravelly path under their feet. In front of them stood a long stretch of clapboard building with several windows and an inviting porch with a dozen white rocking chairs. Some swayed slightly in the late-spring breeze, as if ghostly inhabitants were enjoying an evening break.
Joe knocked on the door. “Lady present. Is everyone decent?”
She could hear the scraping of chairs and the sound of boots on a wooden floor.
“Yeah, boss. C’mon in.” The voice sounded like Quint’s.
As Joe opened the door, seven cowboys stood at attention, holding their hats in their hands.
Joe introduced them. “Adriano, he’s my foreman. This handsome gent is Guillerme, or Willy for short. And this tall son-of-a-gun is Ronnie. Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Dan Turner and his aunt, Maggie McIntyre.”
There were four more cowboys present whose names she promptly forgot. She forced a smile and shook hands, wondering again how these men could possibly help Danny.
What on earth was Judge Cunningham thinking?
Danny halfheartedly shook hands with them all, but he wasn’t smiling. Right now he seemed younger than his thirteen years. His long, narrow face sprinkled with freckles made him look about ten years old. He was thin, bordering on skinny, but his fierce blue eyes were the windows to his soul. And right now, his soul wasn’t happy.
Maggie gave the bunkhouse a quick glance. The walls were just plywood, and there was nothing to give the big room color other than a calendar with a green tractor urging insurance in case of ranch accidents.
A long, beat-up table sported coffee-ring stains, an array of assorted mugs and lots of dig marks, no doubt made by the men’s spurs when they put their feet up on the table.
A fairly new galley kitchen ran half the length of the room, but what she noticed the most was the monstrous coffeemaker on a round table by the stove. In fact, the whole place smelled of coffee.
“Danny, you’re the first participant to arrive. The others will be here any time now,” Ronnie stated. “You get to pick your bunk.”
“I don’t care,” Danny said, but Maggie noticed that he looked around and drifted toward one of the metal cots by a window.
He’s probably planning his escape route, she thought.
The bunkhouse was certainly a few stories down from their apartment in SoHo. And here Danny didn’t have his own bedroom.
Joe held out his hand to shake Danny’s. “I’ll see you later for grub. Make up your bunk and get settled in, and I’ll escort your aunt to the main house. When the others arrive, the boys will show you all around the ranch.”
Danny shook Joe’s hand but didn’t meet his gaze, looking at the floor. Maggie tried to swallow the lump in her throat, saddened that Danny would freeze out the man who was his best shot at a fresh start.
She willed herself to believe that coming here had been a good idea.
As she followed Joe up the hill to the house, Maggie noticed that the rambling stone and log structure somehow fit perfectly into the landscape. A snow-capped mountain range and a copse of conifers peeked over the roof, completing the picture.
Maggie stared in awe. “What a breathtaking house. I can’t wait to see inside.”
There was still a fairly steep climb on a landscaped brick walkway to get to the front door.
Joe smiled. “My father built it for my mother when they were first married. She’s Lakota Sioux, and he constructed the house with twelve beams, just like the Lakota teepee was constructed with twelve poles. And the door faces east, which represents the rising sun and a new day.”
She’d been right. He was part Native American.
She stole a glance at Joe. Effortlessly carrying her heavy suitcase and tote bag, he wasn’t even breathing hard. Every arm muscle bulged under his shirt. His thighs looked rock-hard under his jeans.
His physical appearance made her heart pump faster, but there was so much more to Joe. He seemed to have a quiet dignity and an almost inner peace about him, as if he knew the secret of keeping centered. She hoped he’d share his secret with Danny, and her, too.
Maybe Danny was right to worry. She was interested in Joe.
But she wasn’t interested in him in a romantic way. He intrigued her, probably because he was just so different from the men she knew. That didn’t mean that they were going to start something, like Danny seemed to think.
Not when her main concern was her nephew and getting him through Cowboy Quest.
She might as well add herself to that. She had to get through Cowboy Quest, too, and she didn’t know the first thing about riding a horse or going on a cattle drive.
But one thing she did know was that she was going to do her best and then maybe, just maybe, she and Danny would become a closer, happier and stronger family.
Chapter Two
Joe felt the burn in his muscles from carrying Maggie’s suitcases up the hill to his house.
Good. It took his mind off her—a little.
She was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her hair shimmered like spun gold in the afternoon sun, and her green eyes were bright and sparkly. Even if he hadn’t already known from reading the probation department’s report, he could tell she was a dancer by the way she moved—graceful and light on her feet. She almost floated when she walked.
She didn’t seem to be the type who could handle mucking out stalls, grooming horses or several days on a cattle drive.
He opened the door to let her in. “Make yourself at home. My Aunt Betty is usually here in the office doing the record keeping and running my life, not necessarily in that order, but she’s visiting her sister in Tucson for a couple of months. So the place is all yours.”
“I can’t imagine having this whole house to myself. This is magnificent, Joe. My apartment in New York can fit into it about forty times!” Her excitement faded. “But if I wasn’t here, you could have stayed in your home instead of at the bunkhouse.”
“No, I always bunk with the kids during Cowboy Quest. So make yourself at home.”
The only other woman who had ever stayed at his ranch was Ellen Rogers. Ellen had stolen his heart when she kissed him on the playground in fourth grade, after he’d stopped some boys from teasing her.
That was about the time he learned that