Along Came a Cowboy

  ALONG CAME A COWBOY

  by

  BEV PETTERSEN

  Bev Pettersen is a three-time nominee in the National Readers Choice Award and a two-time finalist in the Romance Writers of America's Golden Heart® Contest as well as the winner of other international awards including the Reader Views Reviewer’s Choice Award, Aspen Gold Reader’s Choice Award, NEC-RWA Reader’s Choice Award, Write Touch Readers’ Award, Kirkus Recommended Read, and a HOLT Medallion Award of Merit. She competed for five years on the Alberta Thoroughbred race circuit and is an Equestrian Canada certified coach. If you’d like to know about special offers or when her next book will be available, please visit her at http://www.BevPettersen.com where you can sign up for a newsletter.

  OTHER BOOKS BY BEV PETTERSEN:

  Jockeys and Jewels

  Color My Horse

  Fillies and Females

  Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash

  Studs and Stilettos

  Millionaire’s Shot

  Riding For Redemption

  A Scandalous Husband

  Backstretch Baby

  Shadows of the Mountain

  A Pony For Christmas (Novella)

  Table of 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

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  Author’s Note

  OTHER BOOKS BY BEV PETTERSEN

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Mustang River Ranch’s cowboy calendar was always popular, but this year it had created a buying frenzy. Another guest jammed a crumpled bill into Allie McIvor’s hand then flipped the calendar open, giving a sigh that went beyond appreciation into outright lust. Allie didn’t have to check to see who the woman was ogling. It had to be Mr. July.

  Then she couldn’t help but peek at the calendar too. Because a gorgeous cowboy with rippling pecs was always worth a second look. She had to admit the photographer had done an excellent job capturing every definition of Carter Bass’s chest. The T-shirt wasn’t even all that tight, but it only emphasized his effortless masculinity. Too bad Carter’s personality didn’t match his appearance.

  Her eyes shot to the man standing in front of the stage. Carter was bad-boy gorgeous with a perpetual shadow on his square jaw and a hard intensity in his hazel eyes. No doubt about it, he left hearts fluttering and it wasn’t because of his success on the rodeo circuit; he hadn’t competed in months. He was also stingy with his conversation, almost bordering on rudeness. Yet he still caused a stir whenever he walked into a room.

  “I didn’t think Carter would be here tonight,” a slim woman beside Allie said. “I heard he never comes to the dances.”

  “He doesn’t,” Allie said. “But there’s no dancing tonight, just some important announcements.” And that was regretful since now she was stuck in the corner selling calendars, leaving no one by the stage who could look after the glitch-filled sound system. Although she’d probably be free soon. The calendars were disappearing like hotcakes, even in June when the year was already half over.

  “No dancing tonight?” The woman made a moue of disappointment.

  Allie felt a similar emotion but was careful to hide her feelings. Naturally dance lessons were the first to be cancelled whenever the hall was needed for other events. Still, dancing provided an outlet for guests to loosen up after a strenuous day in the saddle. A place where they could two-step and yeehaw and forget that they’d never be able to rope a steer, at least not like the champion cowboy lounging in front of the stage. Sure, dancing was a temporary fix but she’d seen firsthand how the freedom of moving to music helped the less adventuresome enjoy their stay.

  The lady remained beside the calendar table, giving Allie time to click through her memory and match a name to the face. The aristocratic features were familiar, along with the elegant haircut and classy jewelry. This was the lady who had arrived last Friday in a black Jeep, carrying a Chanel sports purse and gripping her husband’s arm as if she were stepping into a primitive country.

  She’d obviously shopped for clothes suitable for a ranch vacation. However her beautiful leather boots had chafed her toes after only an hour in the dance hall. Her husband had been concerned they’d miss their upcoming trail ride and gave effusive thanks when Allie provided ointment, bandages and most importantly, reassurance. After that, the woman had stopped complaining even though she was clearly more accustomed to ballroom dancing than kicking up her heels to a spirited country song.

  Trina Kramer was her name, Allie recalled, and her husband was Dwight. They’d only been married for two years and were still in the first bloom of love. For the last three nights the couple had shown up at the hall, holding hands and dancing every waltz. Trina was from Seattle and had confided she was more comfortable in the dance hall than anywhere else on the sprawling property.

  “Unfortunately there’ll be no dancing for the next few days,” Allie said. “Maybe not until the end of the week when Man Tracker is over.” She made a mental note to double- check the website and make sure all activities had been properly updated. Most of the events in the dance hall revolved around interviews of past Man Tracker contestants.

  Trina gave another little pout but didn’t seem too disappointed. “Is Man Tracker where a couple of people are given a map and a head start?” she asked, glancing back at the stage. “And mounted cowboys hunt them down?”

  “That’s right,” Allie said. “Carter and Monty will be chasing this month’s contestants, and it’s often quite a marathon. But our staff are like bloodhounds. They usually catch them before the time is up.”

  Although this time she wasn’t certain the pursuit would be as successful. Monty was an experienced tracker but his regular partner, Kate, was on her honeymoon. This would be Carter’s first time on Man Tracker. He might have won top All-Around Cowboy three years in a row, but riding and roping weren’t the only talents a tracker needed. There was no way he’d be as good as Kate. No way.

  Allie’s gaze shot back to the front of the room. She was curious how Carter was handling all the attention. He never spoke to the guests outside of his roping lessons and surprisingly, didn’t take any advantage of his looks and fame. In fact, he didn’t mingle with fellow employees at all, except for a few select wranglers. She assumed he didn’t enjoy crowds. But if he were uncomfortable, he hid it well. He stood patiently still, a half smile on his face, arms hanging loosely next to that magnificent chest, in stark contrast to Monty who was nervously fingering h
is hat.

  She gave herself a silent poke: Who was she to imagine the great Carter Bass ever feeling less than confident? And why did she have to keep staring at the man?

  “Anyway,” she said, pulling her gaze back to Trina, “for now the evenings are reserved for Man Tracker promotion. But possibly I could arrange some dance events in the barn if you’d like.”

  “I bet my husband would enjoy a contest like Man Tracker,” Trina said, ignoring Allie’s invitation. “He loves a challenge, and it would keep him busy while we’re here. How does he sign up?”

  “Unfortunately it’s booked all summer since applicants need time to prepare. They need to be in top physical shape.” And famous too, Allie thought. “It’s also a requirement they work in pairs. Maybe you and Dwight could keep it in mind for next year.”

  “No, thank you.” Trina gave an exaggerated shudder. “This type of vacation is Dwight’s idea. I’m only playing along, just trying to keep him happy. Like you do with the guests.”

  Allie gave an appreciative smile. She took her job seriously and always tried to make guests happy, especially ones like Trina who initially felt out of place. And to have it remarked on always felt good.

  “You know what I mean,” Trina went on. “Men just want us to look pretty, smile and dress the part. As long as we’re a good sport, we don’t really have to do anything.”

  Allie’s smile froze, but she hid her hurt as Trina fluttered her hand in a wave and turned away. She didn’t intend to let the woman’s comment bother her. Trina had no idea how hard she worked. And of course she wore flashy western clothes and a bit of makeup; it was important to her ranch career that she look her best.

  On the other hand, she didn’t really have a career. Her job title changed with the season: dance instructor, lifeguard, babysitter, conference host, bartender. Actually, if she were being honest, her job changed daily depending on her boss’s whim. She shifted on the chair, hit with an odd discontent.

  Six years at the ranch. And what had she achieved? Other than Monty and the cook, most employees didn’t stay for long. Either they were promoted to more responsible positions or they moved on. But an eight-month publicity program didn’t qualify her to do much on a dude ranch. She’d never be able to gallop a horse or rope a cow or survive in the bush like her best friend Kate. She’d never even gone camping and the only time she’d slept outside was when one of her mother’s boyfriends kicked her out of the house.

  Allie’s boss said she was good with people and that she relied on her to keep guests happy. But anyone could do that. As Trina had so bluntly stated, the only things necessary were boots and jeans and a friendly smile, so that she met their expectations of a cowgirl. In reality, Allie barely knew the front of a horse from the back.

  She straightened the pile of calendars, impatient with her mood. She’d never thought much about her position until Carter Bass had sauntered into her life. Last fall, she’d simply been happy to welcome him to the ranch and tried to make sure he felt at home.

  She always organized a special get-together for new hires, and for Carter she’d coaxed the cook into baking a cake cut in the shape of a cowboy. The ranch was fortunate to find such a famous employee and it was a bonus that he was young and attractive. Staff weren’t allowed to date, but they all lived together in the dorms and it was fun to have new wranglers around to add some spice.

  But from the beginning, Carter’s disinterest in the employees in general—and her in particular—had been obvious. His eyes had flickered over her in cool dismissal and they hadn’t warmed since. Occasionally she’d even caught him studying her with open hostility.

  At first, she’d been baffled by his reaction, then hurt. She wanted newcomers to feel part of the ranch family and knew what it was like to be stuck on the outside. But despite her many attempts, Carter remained aloof. The last straw was when she’d spent hours organizing his fan mail and he’d dumped it in the garbage, right in front of a guest she’d brought over for his autograph. Granted, it turned out the woman had mainly been interested in knowing him on a more intimate basis, and possibly he’d sensed that. Still, being rude to Allie might be acceptable but never to a paying guest. After that incident, she quit trying to be friendly.

  Luckily their paths rarely crossed. They presided over completely different territories. She avoided the barn and horse corrals—they were far too isolated for her liking—and he shunned the pool and dance hall. They even ate their meals at different times since he rose before the crack of dawn while she worked well past midnight and skipped breakfast. Admittedly, he was magazine gorgeous but in her opinion he was a poor employee for a service industry.

  Somehow though, he’d managed to impress their boss during his brief employment, and now he was here, swaggering around in the dance hall as if he owned the place. That rankled. Because as usual, he’d strode past her as if she were invisible. And no matter that she pretended not to care, his rudeness hurt. Even professional courtesy was beyond him.

  Although maybe that was the problem. She wasn’t a professional while he was an accomplished rodeo star who didn’t have to make a bit of effort—with anyone.

  She jammed her hands in her pockets, disheartened that her success on the ranch relied on a cheery smile while Carter’s roping classes were chronically full, despite his reserve that bordered on rudeness. Men signed up so they could brag that they’d been taught by Carter Bass himself while most women signed up to flirt, even though by all reports he never indulged anyone.

  Two teens squeezed up to the table, grabbing her attention.

  “Charge all these to my room,” the first girl said, scooping up the remaining calendars. She flipped one open, her mouth flattening in displeasure. “This month is blank,” she said. “Why isn’t it autographed?”

  “My oversight,” Allie said, guessing there was only one signature the girl truly cared about. She glanced across the crowded room, surprised to catch Carter’s intent stare. For a moment their eyes locked. She gave him a cautious smile but he dismissed her with a turn of his head. Once again, superior to the occasion, to the guests, to her. What an ass.

  She glanced back at the teenagers. “Sorry, ladies. I should have realized guests would want the cowboys’ signatures. But most of the guys are here tonight so this is the perfect time to grab their autographs.”

  “Really?” The girl pivoted, fluffing up her hair and peering hopefully at Carter. “Do you think he’ll mind?”

  “Not at all,” Allie said. “That’s why the cowboys are here, to mingle with the guests. Here,” she added, rummaging in a box for some extra pens. “You can pass these around to your friends in case they also want signed calendars.”

  The teen grabbed a handful of pens and bolted toward the front of the hall, followed closely by her giggling friend. Seconds later the stampede started and a line formed in front of Carter, with fans ranging in age from a white-haired lady to her spunky granddaughter.

  Monty edged away, quickly distancing himself from the herd of femininity. Carter would have to be polite to the guests now, Allie thought. If he couldn’t force himself to be civil, maybe he’d realize he didn’t fit into life at the ranch. It wasn’t as if the other wranglers couldn’t ride and rope. They just weren’t as famous...or attractive. But they were far more pleasant. And the ranch’s success depended on keeping guests happy.

  Her gaze drifted back to the man in front of the lineup and she instantly stiffened. Carter was glaring over the teenagers’ heads, his laser stare locked on her face. And if she thought his eyes had been unfriendly before, now they hit a whole new level of cold.

  Obviously he realized she’d unleashed the girls. With any other man, she would have given a wink and a wave. But somehow his withering stare stripped her bare. And she couldn’t look away, couldn’t move.

  “Looks like the calendars sold out.”

  Her boss’s voice was a welcome excuse to turn away, and she swung toward Sharon Barrett.

  “Y
es, they were very popular,” Allie said, gesturing at the empty table. “That’s the last of them.”

  “No. Place another order. We’re bound to get some demand after the season opener of Man Tracker. And remind me to stay with an all-cowboy calendar. Sales have tripled from last year.”

  Allie winced. Last year, the ranch farrier had been featured for April, Cookie for December, and Kate had been Miss July. It had been a hoot and everyone had been delighted to sign their autographs. They hadn’t sold many calendars though, no doubt because a big percentage of guests were females and women preferred cowboys, especially ones who looked and moved like Carter Bass. Even his voice was sexy, something she had reluctantly conceded.

  But his aloofness didn’t make the guests happy and he most certainly didn’t fit in with the staff. And this ranch wasn’t just a job; it was her home. And she wasn’t going to let any man come along and wreck it.

  “I’ll order more calendars tonight,” Allie said, entering a reminder on her phone. “And I’ll have the photographer take a range of pictures for next year. Maybe we should include some mares and foals? Or maybe Nikki when she’s barrel racing?”

  “No. Just cowboys,” Sharon said. “And from now on, I want you to take all the pictures. Yours are just as good. Be sure to include Carter and get the release for his photos. Just in case he quits.”

  Allie’s gaze jerked up from her phone screen. “You think he’s going to leave?”

  “I hope not,” Sharon said. “Although he’s not going to be comfortable with all this fanfare. And it’s only going to increase with the Man Tracker competition, especially after our contestants are revealed tomorrow night.”

  Allie nodded. She hadn’t been told the names of the competitors but apparently one was a famous celebrity whose participation was being touted as big news. All that attention would further expose Carter’s character deficiencies. He’d probably realize it would be best if he left the ranch. He certainly didn’t appear happy with his job.

  “I’m going to call Monty and Carter up on the stage now,” Sharon went on. “Were you able to fix the microphone? And did you have the speakers raised in the back?”