Colt arrived, leaving the truck parked several yards away. He grabbed a rope and joined Beau. “Is he spooked?”
“Nope.” Midnight was the cockiest horse Beau had ever been around.
“Since he came back from Buddy’s he’s been more difficult to handle,” Colt said.
“I’ve got an opinion, if you care to hear it.”
“Speak your mind.”
“Midnight’s jaunt across the ranch is his way of letting us know he’s feeling penned in and he’s ready for a challenge.”
“By challenge, you mean rodeo.”
“Midnight’s a competitor. Bucking’s in his blood. He’s not happy unless he’s throwing cowboys off his back.”
“You might be right. He’s probably feeling restless now that Fancy Gal’s expecting and wants nothing to do with him.”
No wonder the stallion was acting out of sorts—his companion mare was snubbing her nose at him. “Enter Midnight in the Badlands Bull Bash.” The one-day event had a purse of fifty thousand dollars.
“Ace would have my head if I took that horse anywhere without telling him,” Colt said. “A win, though, will increase Midnight’s stud fees.”
“Sure would.”
“I’ll talk to Ace.” Colt pointed to the stallion. “You ready?”
“Nothing I like better than a good chase.”
“Keep him penned in until I get close enough to throw a rope over his head.”
Midnight allowed Colt to get within fifty feet of him, then when Colt raised his roping arm, the stallion took off. Beau followed on the ATV, cutting Midnight off at the pass. The horse spun, then galloped in the opposite direction. Beau turned Midnight back toward Colt. The game went on for several minutes. Finally, Midnight exhausted himself and Colt threw the rope over the horse’s head.
“Nice work,” Colt said after Beau shut off the four-wheeler.
“Midnight could have escaped if he’d wanted to.”
“Yeah, I know.” Colt tugged on the rope and led the stallion to the truck, Midnight snorting hot steam into the brisk air.
Beau followed the pair and opened the trailer doors, then lowered the ramp. Midnight tossed his head and reared. Colt gave him plenty of rope, then waved his hand in front of the stallion’s nose. Midnight clomped up the ramp and into the trailer.
“Why are you the only one who can get that horse to load?”
Colt opened his fist to reveal a peppermint candy. “Don’t tell Ace my secret.” Midnight poked his head out the trailer window, and Colt gave the stallion his reward then latched the door. “Thanks for your help, Beau. I promised Leah we’d take the kids to an early-bird matinee. Now we won’t be late.”
Colt had seamlessly adjusted to married life and fatherhood, but Beau was curious. “When’s the family going to meet your son?” His cousin had confessed to the family that he’d fathered a child twelve years ago but had only recently made contact with the boy. Colt was also stepdad to Leah’s son and daughter.
“I’m not sure. I invited Evan to spend Thanksgiving at the ranch but I’m leaving it up to him to decide when he’s ready to meet the family.”
Speaking of family… “Hey, Colt.”
“Yeah?”
“I ran into Tuf in Rock Springs.”
“You didn’t tell my mom, did you?”
“No. I thought you and Ace should be the ones to tell her if you think she should know. I was worried the news might upset her.”
“Is he okay?”
“Hard to say. I asked when he was coming home, but he didn’t know.”
Colt stubbed the ground with the toe of his boot.
“I suggested he call your mom, but—” Beau shrugged.
“I’m not one to judge. I didn’t always uphold my share of responsibility around the ranch through the years, but I kept in touch with my mother. The least Tuf can do is call home once in a while.” Colt hopped into the front seat of the truck. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Sure thing. Enjoy the movies.”
After Colt departed, Beau stood in the cold, staring into the distance. Today was Sunday and he had a hankering for beef sirloin tip roast—Sunday special at the Number 1. He’d return to the house and help his father with ranch chores, then shower and head into town to do some more chasing…of the two-legged variety.
Chapter Three
Sierra climbed the steps of the hidden staircase inside the diner’s pantry and entered her living room. There were only two ways into the upstairs apartment—the staircase and the fire escape behind the building.
“It’s me, Aunt Jordan. I brought you a late lunch—baked potato soup and a roll.” She set the food on the kitchen table.
Her aunt’s seeing-eye dog, Molly, ventured from the guest bedroom first, followed by her owner. Sierra was amazed at how quickly Jordan had learned the layout of the apartment and could navigate the space without bumping into any furniture.
“Have you been a good girl, Molly?” Sierra scratched the yellow lab behind the ears. Jordan washed her hands at the sink then sat at the table and confidently familiarized herself with the items before her—take-out soup container, wheat roll inside a paper towel, butter dish, knife and spoon.
“This was nice of you, dear.” Her aunt buttered the roll. “What time did you get in this morning? I didn’t hear you.”
“Early.” Sierra disliked being evasive but she’d been on pins and needles, worried Beau would drop by the diner and demand an explanation for her bizarre behavior last night. She owed him the truth, but facing reality took more courage than she possessed at the moment.
Hoping to dissuade her aunt from prying into her whereabouts, Sierra asked, “What did you do last night?” Several of Jordan’s friends from high school lived in the area and often invited her out to eat or shop.
“Joshua helped Irene close the diner, then we watched a movie up here.”
“Watched…?” Her aunt possessed a wicked sense of humor regarding her blindness, but Sierra didn’t see a darn thing funny about having to live in the dark.
“Joshua watched. I listened.”
Since returning to Montana, Jordan had been spending a lot of time with her old boyfriend, which Sierra couldn’t be more pleased about. She’d love for her aunt to sell her condo in Florida and relocate to Roundup.
“This tastes similar to your mother’s recipe, but there’s something different…”
“Rosemary. I used it a lot in cooking school.” Sierra poured two glasses of iced tea and joined her aunt at the table.
“Your mother was so proud when you graduated from that famous Cordon Bleu program,” Aunt Jordan said.
“Mom always envied your talent for dancing.”
Jordan reached across the table and Sierra clasped her hand. “I wish your mother were still with us.”
“Me, too.” Sierra’s parents had died in a plane crash five years ago. A former Air Force pilot and captain for United Airlines, her father had survived near misses and engine malfunctions, yet it had been a summer thunderstorm that had brought down her parents’ twin-engine Cessna while flying to their cabin along Musselshell