Cowboy Accomplice. B.J. Daniels
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Longhorn Café in town. J.T. knew it was one of the reasons his brother Cash had become sheriff. He was tired of being one of the “wild” McCalls.
Of the bunch, J.T. looked like a saint. Probably because he’d had to take over the running of the ranch after Asa’s heart attack. Rourke had been in prison, Cash was sheriff and his little brother Brandon was too busy sowing his oats.
Some days, J.T. resented the hell out of the family’s reputation because everyone still painted all the McCalls with the same brush. The McCalls were the cowboys that fathers warned their daughters about. Western born and bred, they were a rough-and-tumble bunch, no doubt about that. Always fighting amongst themselves like a den of wildcats, but joining together in times of trouble.
And J.T. had a bad feeling this was a time of trouble as he drove toward Antelope Flats.
This morning a neighboring rancher had told him he’d seen something “odd” on their adjoining summer range in the Bighorn Mountains a week ago.
“It was one of your cows,” Bob Humphries said after the two of them were seated in the Sundown Ranch office, the door closed. “Something had killed it.”
Losing cattle to mountain lions, grizzlies or wolves wasn’t that uncommon. He wondered why Bob had driven all the way out to the ranch to tell him this.
Bob met his gaze. “An animal didn’t kill that cow,” he said as if he could tell what J.T. was thinking. “It had been burned.”
J.T. sucked in a breath, pulse pounding, the weight on his chest like a Mac truck.
“It reminded me of what happened about ten years ago,” Bob said, worry furrowing his brow. “But those fellows are dead, right?”
J.T. could only nod.
“I suppose it could have been lightning,” Bob said, still looking worried. “But I thought I should tell you since you’re headed up there today.”
Now as he neared town, J.T. glanced toward the Bighorns. The long range of mountains glistened against the cloudless blue sky.
He’d always loved this time of the year and looked forward to leaving the heat of the valley for the cool of the cow camp miles from a road. He liked the hard work of gathering the cattle and driving them back down to the ranch, but it was the camp’s isolation that always appealed to him the most. No phone. No electricity. Nothing but the peace and quiet of the mountains, long hours in the saddle, sacking out at night in the line shack while the men slept in wall tents. The sound of the campfire, men talking cattle, the quiet that a man could find in the darkness of night up there.
But as he looked at the mountains where he would be spending the next few days, an icy chill skittered up his spine.
He shook it off and thought instead of the woman in red who’d wanted his butt. Much better than thinking about the dead men who had haunted his dreams for the past nine years.
REGINA STOOD in the middle of the blacktop, her face as red as her outfit. Jenny was a dog! The first time she’d glanced toward the truck, all she’d caught was a glimpse of red hair in the front seat. The back window was so muddy—
She felt sick. She knew she shouldn’t have tried to do business in the middle of the highway. But the cowboy was perfect and she’d just wanted to get him before he got away.
If he looked as good in a saddle as he did bent over her flat tire, he would launch the jeans line and she could write her own ticket. She’d known she wanted a real cowboy. Not one of those Hollywood models. No, she needed the real thing, shot in his environment with panoramic views of the real west, cattle and all, behind his perfect behind.
And she’d found just the man for the job.
And she’d just let him walk away.
Not a chance, she thought as she looked after the truck. She’d never backed down from a challenge in her life. And her life had been rife with challenges, she thought. Getting this man to do the commercial was child’s play given the other obstacles in her life that she’d overcome.
She’d been too confident that he’d accept her offer, she thought as she walked back to the rental car. She fought the urge to chase him down and set him straight on a few things. His rejection stung, especially when he’d thought she was offering herself. But she’d been rejected before. Not quite so offhandedly though.
She climbed in, dropped the visor and looked in the mirror, shocked at her appearance. Wiping furiously she tried to get the greasy smudges off her cheek with a tissue. Her clothing was wrinkled, her makeup a mess, her hair in disarray.
He must have thought she was a nutcase. That’s why he’d turned down her offer. The way she looked, she didn’t blame him for not believing her. And she’d probably come on a little strong. But she’d been so grateful to him for changing her tire—and his posterior had been so perfect….
She tucked a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him he had to audition. But she’d only said that so he wouldn’t know how much she wanted him. She was pretty sure she could get this guy for a song. Coming in way under budget wouldn’t hurt. Everything was riding on this.
Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Way Out West Jeans. No service. What kind of place was this?
She started the car and looked down the highway, barely able to make out the rear end of the man’s truck disappearing into the distance. What were her chances of finding another one like him?
She knew the answer to that. Whereas finding him again wouldn’t be a problem. She’d seen the logo on the side of the muddy truck. Sundown Ranch. And he’d told her where he was headed. A cattle roundup in the mountains. Could she have asked for anything more ideal?
After he knew that her offer was legit, he’d be grateful that she’d tracked him down. Only a fool would turn down a chance like the one she was giving him.
She smiled as she headed toward Antelope Flats. Even if he still thought he didn’t want to be the new “look” of Way Out West Jeans, she’d change his mind. The man had no idea what lengths she would go to—especially when she was desperate—to get what she wanted.
But he was about to find out, she thought, as she drove into the small western town and spotted a phone booth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one of those.
Getting out of the car, she stepped into the glass-sided booth and dialed the company’s 800-number.
“I found the perfect butt,” she said when Anthony answered.
“Gina, darling, you know what that kind of talk does to me,” he joked. Anthony was gay, her best friend and the best head of advertising she’d ever known. “So when do I get to meet him?”
“He’s a bit rough around the edges,” she hedged.
“You are making my mouth water.”
She laughed. “He’s straight. As an arrow.”
“You’re sure?”
She couldn’t say how she knew, but yes, “I’m sure. There is one tiny little problem.”
“I don’t like the sound of this. You know what a tight deadline we’re under here, darling.”
“He needs a little convincing.”
“Oh, well, then I’m not worried,” he said, sounding relieved. “No man can turn you down.”
She hoped he was right about that. “I’ll call again as soon as I have the contract in hand,” she told him. “It might take a couple of days. Also there is no cell phone service here.”
“Ta-ta, darling. Call when you have the contract in hand.”
She smiled as she hung up and looked down the street. Parked not a block away was a newer pickup with the same Sundown Ranch logo on the side. Getting