The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(21)
Once he’d headed off to college, he’d been pretty much persona non grata around the old homestead. Neither his father nor his brother, Trace, seemed to expect much from him, and he hadn’t been inclined to give much, since he saw a different future for himself. After his father died from a sudden heart attack, the will was read, and Trace was left the ranch. All Ty was left were memories, and not necessarily good ones. His father’s will stated that Ty was taken care of by virtue of JM’s scholarship and the education it had bought.
Ty had been determined to make sure his father was correct, and he’d never had cause to look back. Until now.
“Hey, cowboy. You’re doing pretty good.” Harold Prescott, mounted on a fine-looking black horse, had shouted that review from across the fenced alley where the bulls paraded. It was only half a compliment, Ty knew. The undertone of surprise was the other half.
He nodded an acknowledgment and looked around to locate Mandy. She’d turned her horse around and was trotting back toward the pens, probably to check on the animals. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help noticing every rounded curve of her body, including her fine butt glued to the saddle. Maybe he just needed to get her out of his system. Given he might have to suffer through two lust-filled years, maybe he should find out for sure if there could be anything between them.
It didn’t take long to pen the bulls. Harold knew what enclosure suited which bull. Ty guessed bulls were a lot more like people than most folks realized. Some didn’t mind sharing—others needed to be left alone.
Ty definitely fell in with the latter bunch as far as people were concerned. Yet here he was, managing a group of cowhands who had known each other for decades or whose family members had worked here for as long.
No doubt the rodeo hands had all heard about the will by now. JM had told him nothing much got by the crew. They would know he was now the boss, not Mandy, even if she was still managing the day-to-day operations, as she had under JM.
He still couldn’t figure out why she’d gotten upset that he’d resolved Guy’s concerns. What did it matter why Guy was upset or why he had calmed down? The fact was, Guy was no longer anxious about the rodeo operation, and that was a good thing.
The horses were moved more gingerly than the bulls. Some were led by their halter rope, and for that, Ty’s horse worked well, seeming to enjoy taking the lead, particularly when a mare was involved. The crew worked seamlessly, having undoubtedly been doing this too many years to count. While Ty typically gave orders rather than took them, for the moment he sublimated his own need to take charge and waited like every other cowhand for Harold to sort out the livestock and Mandy to determine what animal went with what cowboy.
He might have been wrong about the men respecting her. They looked to Mandy, as well as Harold, for their orders and followed what was said without comment.
He watched as Mandy, sitting atop her horse, pointed to the bunch of steers still on the truck and the crew went into action, herding them through the chutes to one of the larger pens. Her booted foot in the stirrup, her long legs wrapped around the belly of her horse, her focus was on the animals. His gaze traveled up to her tight waist and the fluttering of her cotton shirt due to the cooling afternoon breeze. The top buttons of her blouse were open right above her breasts, and the fabric had flapped over to reveal the beginning swell of her bosom, exposing a slip of white lace from her bra. He wanted to bury his head inside her blouse and plant a kiss right on that creamy skin. He raised his gaze to the indent of her throat, glistening with moisture. And kiss there too. And then up to her lips, pursed in concentration as she watched over the operations. And definitely there.
The idea of marrying held more appeal than he’d ever thought possible. As long as it would be just for six months, of course. Too bad she wanted nothing to do with him and didn’t much like him, or so she said. Yet, they would have to work together as a team if Prescott was going to be successful, at least in the short term. When it was over, he would start his land development business, alone.
As the thud of horse hooves, the bellowing of steers, along with the snorting of the bulls and the occasional shouts of the cowhands, filled the dusty, humid air, a sense of isolation crept over Ty despite the hubbub around him. While he might pretend he belonged to this rodeo community, reality was, he didn’t belong anywhere.
*
Two dozen cowboys, along with Mandy’s mother and Harold, stood among bales of hay, folding chairs, and work stools in the small tent designated for the event crew. Flies buzzed, and scents of horse, manure, and hay mingled with wafts of fried burgers and chili emanating from the hospitality tent next door as a country tune played in the background.
Clipboard in hand, Mandy gazed at the somber faces of Doug McClane, Slim Matthews, Patrick Saunders, Neil Tanner, Keith Bradshaw—Kyle’s brother—and the rest of the crew gathered at this, the first rodeo since JM’s funeral. She wondered how they would respond to the change in management. How should she present the fact that Ty was the boss but she was in charge, at least in her mind she was.
Movement near the entrance caught her eye, and she watched Stan Lassiter enter and stand to the side of the tent flap. She felt a headache coming on. Stan Lassiter was only assisting at this rodeo, yet he had decided to accompany his contingent to Greenville instead of sending one of his foremen. More than likely he had come to undercut her with the rodeo committee for next year. Stan certainly wasn’t above such a tactic, and it was no secret he’d been after JM to sell once he learned JM was ill. If only Stan wouldn’t make Ty aware of his interest.