Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(9)
“Call me Roan. No, just the last two years.”
“Roan? That’s different. Where did you get that name?”
Now he was the bug under her microscope. He could feel Shiloh zeroing in on him. If it had been anyone but her, Roan would have shut them down in a helluva hurry. The look in her green eyes became sharpened and curious. “My parents.”
“But,” she stumbled, “was it a name of a favorite grandfather or uncle? That’s a very odd name and it’s very old. In fact, it goes back to Germany, I believe. It’s a derivation of the German word for raven.”
He slid her a glance. “You’re a walking encyclopedia. My father’s side came from Germany in the nineteen hundreds and settled in Montana. And yes, my grandfather’s name was Raven, so Dad decided to give me a variation of it.”
“I’m good,” she teased, giving him a smile. Her heart flipped when he smiled back at her. That mouth of Roan’s was dessert of the finest kind. It was a wide, chiseled mouth, his upper lip thinner than his lower lip. It was a mouth that shouted of masculinity and confidence. What would it be like to kiss this man? Shiloh winced inwardly. He was probably married with a pack of kids. Where was her head? Her body?
“You are good,” Roan murmured. He slowed down as they rolled into a populated area. The ranch sat in a flat area, mostly buildings and corrals. “Sometime you’ll have to tell me the story of how you got your name.”
“It’s interesting,” Shiloh promised, craning her neck, excited about seeing a real Western ranch. “How far is it to Wind River Ranch where I’ll be staying? Maud had said it was a long way from Jackson Hole.”
“It’s fifty miles as the crow flies,” Roan said. “But it goes through some pretty valley areas along the way.”
Shiloh saw the lush, green valley below the four-lane highway of 89A. “It looks like one of my mom’s paintings. She never did landscapes in this area, but over in Colorado and the Rocky Mountain area. Those were favorites of mine.”
“Wind River Valley got its name from the Snake River flowing north to south through it. The valley is nearly a hundred miles long and anywhere between twenty to fifty miles wide. It’s bracketed by two different mountain ranges. You’ll be able to see the Salt River Range from the kitchen window of the employee house where you’ll be staying.”
“This is so different from New York City,” she sighed, relaxing for the first time in so long. She heard him chuckle but he said nothing further. Through half-closed eyes, tiredness lapping at her, Shiloh wanted to stay awake to absorb the beauty around her, but at some point, her eyes drooped closed.
*
The jolt of the truck leaving the asphalt highway and crossing a metal cattle guard that made a lot of racket jolted Shiloh out of her sleep. Momentarily disoriented, she looked around, realizing she was in a large, grassy valley. There were few homes around, and fenced pastures everywhere. Wiping her eyes, she sat up.
“Get a little shut-eye?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. “Where are we?”
“Home,” he murmured, gesturing with his hand toward the windshield. “Up ahead you’ll see the main ranch house. The two-story log home was created in nineteen hundred by the first Whitcombs traveling through this area. They fell in love with it, staked a claim, and started building that ranch house you see. Over the generations, everyone added to it. Now, it’s about five thousand square feet in total.”
“Wow, that’s big,” Shiloh said, staring at the huge home. Nearby she saw two red barns, both three stories tall. There were a lot of pipe rail fences. In some of them, she saw Herefords. In others, pretty-colored horses. There were a lot of smaller log cabins down on the other side of the main house. “What are those?”
“They’re the tourist cabins. Maud and Steve rent them out every year. Some people come to fish out of the Snake River, others like to hike, or they want to backpack into the Salt River Range,” he replied, and motioned to the snow-capped blue-gray mountains. “They handle about twenty people per week from May through September.”
“I imagine it helps them financially,” she said, excitement thrumming through her. Her heart leaped as she saw two cowboys on horses galloping down a path between two of the huge, oval corrals. “This is so magical,” she whispered, thrilled.
Roan pointed to his left. “See that single-story house coming up on your right? The yellow one with white shutters?”
“Yes.”
“That’s where you’ll be living. It’s one of the employee houses.”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, feeling excitement building in her. “I’ve always dreamed of coming out West.”
The vibrancy, the thrill in her low, husky voice, riffled across Roan’s flesh. He glanced over and saw her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were shining with joy. She was incredibly alluring. And his lower body heated up some more. Damn. What the hell was going on here? Roan tried to remain immune to Shiloh’s enthusiasm but it was impossible. One moment she could be a mature adult; the next, childlike and unafraid to show how she felt. Shiloh rolled down the truck window, sticking her head out as they passed a couple of wranglers riding sleek horses.
“Are you looking at the wranglers or their horses?” Roan asked drily, pulling in and parking in front of the main office.