Crazy For the Cowboy (2 page)

Ike kept his voice low. “They all like to drink, and they haven't seen each other for a long time. They'll be swapping stories 'til all hours of the night. I predict they'll be too hungover to go traipsing around the countryside tomorrow.”

“Maybe. But they'll be here the next day, too.”

Ike shrugged. “By then they'll have talked themselves out of it. I think they'd rather party than chase horses.”

“Maybe.” She wasn't convinced.

“You'll see.” He glanced at her half-full glass. “Want more wine?”

“Yes, thanks. I think I'll hang around awhile.”

“Suit yourself. But I wouldn't worry if I were you.” Ike returned to his post behind the bar.

Soon after that Mac ordered up another round and Travis promised to get the next one. So maybe Ike had it right, after all. The last time these three had been in Sadie's, they'd worked off the effects of their alcohol intake by dancing.

Between the single women who'd driven in from the Double J and the eligible females in Bickford, the cowboys from the ranch had been in demand on the dance floor, especially this particular bunch. Georgie couldn't lie—she'd loved dancing with all three of them, especially Vince, who had a natural sense of rhythm. But she'd never encouraged him to think she was interested in being anything besides his dance partner.

Janet had told her she was nuts not to go out with him when he'd asked. But at some point they'd had a brief conversation about goals, and he'd admitted to having only one—to enjoy life as it came. That philosophy was fine for a Saturday night of dancing, but she'd had no interest in dating someone who was so unfocused. She'd been picky then and she was picky now.

Her pickiness was moot these days, though. The town's population of datable men, focused or not, had migrated to areas where jobs were available. Georgie didn't particularly want to be celibate, but circumstances had given her little choice.

She didn't approve of Vince's weekend plan and she would thwart it to the best of her ability. Yet, hypocritical though it might be, she took some guilty pleasure in seeing three virile cowboys at the bar for a change. Because they had their backs turned, she could look without getting caught, and that trio of tight buns perched on neighboring barstools gladdened her starved hormones.

The old guys who played poker here almost every night were adorable and dear. She'd known them all her life. But she couldn't deny that Vince and his two friends brought with them a blast of testosterone that had been absent from Sadie's for several years. She'd have to be sexually numb not to feel it.

Vince had always been the acknowledged leader of the group. He had charisma to burn. Mac, his brown hair cut short and his dark eyes perpetually full of the devil, had been Vince's second-in-command. Travis, younger than both of them, used to play the role of kid brother. He seemed to have grown up, though. His blond hair had darkened and his green eyes had lost their innocence.

Mac delivered the punch line of a story she couldn't hear and Vince doubled over in laughter. That was another thing she'd missed—the laughter of men her age. Damn these three guys for their misbegotten plan to chase after the Ghost. If they'd come to hang out and talk, she might have enjoyed having them around.

Ike brought her a second glass of wine. He tipped his head toward Vince and company. “Told you. They'll keep this up until I close the bar.”

“When is that these days?”

“Normally? The poker game ends about eleven and the place is deserted by eleven thirty, so I shut 'er down.”

“Could you do me a huge favor and stay as long as they want?”

“I will, but I won't be doing it just for you. We haven't seen cowboys in here spending money on drinks in a long time. Steve and Myra would want me to take advantage of that.”

“I suppose they would.” She certainly didn't begrudge the Jensons whatever revenue this reunion brought in. Steve and Myra were great, and they'd hung on here at the Bickford Hotel by carefully managing every dime.

“Three rooms rented is more than we've had since that group of rock hounds came through two months ago. Steve told me to make sure these guys had a good time this weekend. They might pass the word on to others that this was a nice place for a getaway.”

Georgie straightened. “I hope that doesn't include encouraging them in this crazy scheme to round up the wild horses.”

“I can't say. Steve knows they planned to do some riding, but I don't think they told him they were after the Ghost. I doubt they told anybody until you came in tonight asking what their plans were.”

“Maybe it'll never become an issue if they stay drunk for two days. That would be good for everyone, right?”

“I suppose so. Well, not Ed. He could get some income if they rent horses from his stable.”

Georgie considered the situation. “And I can't ask him not to when he could use the money like everyone else.” She sighed. “I guess if they end up following through on their plan, I'll have to figure out some other way to make sure they don't capture the Ghost.”

Ike patted her shoulder. “Like I said, they likely won't feel like going, but even if they do, they won't be the sharpest tools in the shed after all that alcohol consumption. The Ghost is cagey. He'll be fine.”

“I hope so. Anyway, you'd better get over there. I don't want those cowboys going thirsty.”

“They won't. Not on my watch.” Ike winked at her before heading back to set up the next round.

Georgie watched as Vince drained his beer bottle, his tanned throat moving in a deep swallow. She took note of his strong hands and the muscled forearms he'd bared when he'd folded back the cuffs of his Western shirt. She remembered the gleam of defiance in his blue eyes when she'd told him not to go after the Ghost. Despite how much he drank tonight, she'd do well not to underestimate Vince Durant.

CHAPTER 2

V
ince tried to block out Georgie's presence because she was damned distracting. He could feel her judgmental gaze boring into his back, and as a result he was drinking more than he should and pretending that Mac's and Travis's stories were more hysterical than they actually were. Fortunately the beer helped calm his nerves and made the stories funnier. Great invention.

He raised his bottle. “Gentlemen, I propose a toast. To the inventor of this tasty beverage. I'm betting there was a cowboy involved.”

“You'd lose that bet.” Mac picked up the glass in front of him and studied its contents. “Beer was the preferred drink of the pharaohs, my friend.”

Travis laughed. “Yeah, right. You're making that shit up like you always do.”

Ike leaned on the bar. “Actually, he's right. Beer's ten thousand years old, at least.”

“It is?” Vince narrowed his eyes at Mac. “How'd you know that?”

“I read.” Mac looked extremely proud of himself. “You should try it sometime, Vince.”

“Hey, I read! Just never ran across that factoid.”

“Me, either,” Travis said. “Pharaohs drank beer. Who knew? Speaking of which, did I ever show you guys my Egyptian dance routine?”

“Unfortunately.” Mac rolled his eyes. “Several times.”

“Well, it's been a few years since you've seen it. I think I should refresh your memory.”

“Don't feel obligated on our account,” Vince said.

“You're both jealous because you can't bend your arms right.” Travis climbed off his stool and angled one arm in front and one in back as he strutted along and bobbed his head while humming “Walk Like an Egyptian.”

Ike laughed so hard he had to take off his glasses and wipe his eyes. “That's good, Travis. Real good. Especially wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Don't encourage him,” Mac said, “or he'll be doing that all night.”

“Hey.” Travis reclaimed his stool. “You're the one who brought up the pharaoh subject. I'm just elaborating on the theme. I didn't realize beer is such a noble drink.”

“It is that,” Mac said. “The Egyptians considered it sacred.”

Travis grinned. “In that case, maybe I should do another dance. Want to see me dance again?”

“No, we want to see you drink.” Vince finished off his bottle. “Another, if you please, Ike.”

“I sure as hell consider beer sacred.” Travis shoved his empty bottle across the bar. “Hit me again, Ike.”

“You bet.” Ike seemed quite cheerful about serving up the beer.

Vince thought about the sorry state of Bickford. So what if they all drank a little more than they should tonight? It was a celebration and the town could use the money.

“Don't know if you came across the
Mayflower
in your beer-related research, Mac.” Ike set a bottle in front of Vince and Travis.

“His
research
?” Travis chortled with glee. “Vince, did you know we had a scholar among us?”

“A beer scholar at that.” Vince nodded. “Probably has a Ph.B.”

Travis smirked. “Yeah,
B
for bullshit.”

“Never mind the village idiots.” Mac looked at Ike. “What about the
Mayflower
?”

“The Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock mostly because they were running out of beer.” Ike had a twinkle in his eye.

Travis stared at him. “That can't be right. I'll bet ten bucks you're making that up.” He slapped two fives on the bar.

“You're on.” Ike fished out his wallet and put a ten on top of Travis's two fives.

“I'm betting Ike's right.” Mac added another two fives. “Vince, which way you leaning?”

“Beer on the
Mayflower
?” He added a ten to the pile. “I'm with Travis on this one. Can't picture those folks in the gray outfits knocking back the booze. How do we settle it?”

“We have to Google it.” Ike glanced around the group. “Who has Internet on his phone? I left mine at home.”

“Old phone, here.” Travis held his up. “I'm a poor cowhand.”

Mac shook his head. “I have basic service.”

“Me, too.” Vince shrugged. “Guess we're SOL.” He started to retrieve his bet.

“Not so fast,” Ike said. “Georgie has Internet on her phone.”

As all three cowboys swiveled their stools around to face Georgie's table, Vince wondered if she'd refuse to look up the info for them. Probably not, though. The Georgie he remembered had liked being a source of knowledge. According to what he'd heard, she would have preferred to stay in school, but she'd had to drop out to save her late father's cherished general store from going belly-up. Apparently her stepmother was no help.

Ike came out from behind the bar and approached Georgie's table. “We need to settle a bet. Would you look something up on your phone, please?”

“For you, Ike, I'd be happy to.” She smiled and pulled her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. “You want to know if the Pilgrims had beer on the
Mayflower
, right?” She tapped the information into her phone.

Ike nodded. “Right.”

So she'd been following their conversation. Vince wondered if she'd been listening in hopes she could figure out a way to upset their plans. He wasn't about to allow that.

Georgie consulted her phone. “So who's betting on the Pilgrims having beer on board?”

“Me and Mac,” Ike said. “I know I read it somewhere.”

“According to this, they did.” Georgie held up her phone. “They decided to land because they were out of supplies, chiefly beer. Apparently beer didn't go bad on a long voyage, while water did.”

Mac hopped off his stool and snatched a startled Georgie out of her chair. “Thank you, sweet lady!” He swung her around in a brief victory dance. “You brought the light of reason to dispel the darkness of ignorance.”

“Oh, hell.” Travis glanced at Vince. “It's getting deep in here.”

“No kidding.” Watching Mac dance with Georgie brought back memories of Saturday nights when he'd been the one holding her like that. They'd danced well together and had seemed to anticipate each other's moves. She'd never said he was her favorite partner, but he'd known it, anyway. Those days were long gone, though, and he'd do well to forget about them.

Travis swiveled back toward the bar. “After all that talk about beer, I could use another one.”

“Me, too.” Vince turned his back on the sight of Mac escorting Georgie to her chair.

Then Mac added insult to injury by returning to his stool and leaning close to Vince. “You're playing this all wrong, buddy. You'd catch more flies with honey, if you get my meaning.”

Vince's jaw tightened. “She won't be a problem.”

“You could guarantee that with a different approach.” Mac picked up his beer.

Vince wasn't so sure about that. He still wondered what she'd meant by that
over my dead body
comment. It continued to gnaw at him as he tried to imagine what stunt she might pull to keep them from going after the Ghost. He'd have to be on his guard. He'd always known she was smart.

She'd mentioned that Ed's riding stable only had four horses in it. He maybe ought to see if three of them were available before he let any more time go by. With her considerable influence in this town, she could fix it so he and his buddies had no transportation out to the maze of canyons where the Ghost kept his little band.

Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his phone. It didn't have Internet, but it suited him just fine. “Ike, you got a number for Ed's stable?”

“I do.” Ike reached under the counter, pulled out a card, and pushed it toward Vince. “That's his cell. He's probably at supper, but he keeps his phone on.”

“I hate to interrupt his meal, but I want to make sure we have some horses to ride tomorrow.”

“Right.” Ike's gaze flicked over Vince's shoulder to where Georgie had returned to eating her barbecue and drinking her wine.

As Vince dialed Ed's number, Mac leaned toward him. “You could hold off 'til tomorrow morning.”

“I don't think so. He only has four horses.”

“Yeah, but there are zero tourists in town, in case you hadn't noticed.”

“Besides us.”

“We're not tourists. We're cowboys.”

“Without horses.” Vince turned away as Ed answered. The stable owner sounded as if he had a mouthful of food.

Vince identified himself and apologized for interrupting Ed's dinner before launching into his request. “Mac Foster and Travis Langdon are here with me, and we'd like to rent three of your horses for tomorrow.”

“Absolutely!” Ed quickly swallowed. “When?”

Vince considered that. The best time to locate any wild animal was early morning. “Six thirty.”

Beside him, Mac groaned.

“Hang on, Ed.” Vince grinned at Mac. “Make it six forty-five.”

Mac shook his head. “I always knew you were a sadistic SOB.”

“Six forty-five it is, then,” Ed confirmed. “I'll have 'em saddled and ready.”

“Great. We'll be there.” Vince disconnected the phone. “We're all set. Ed seemed real glad for the business.”

“I'm sure he is.” Mac scowled at him. “But what's this crack-of-dawn routine? I thought we were on vacation.”

“No, Mac,” Travis said. “We're on a quest. Isn't that right, Vince?”

“That's a perfect description. And you don't start a quest at noon. Anybody knows that. You start at dawn.”

Travis raised his beer bottle. “To the quest.”

“To the quest!” Vince leaned over and tapped Travis's bottle with his. “Mac? You in?”

Mac grimaced and raised his glass with a decided lack of enthusiasm. “To the quest.”

From the direction of Georgie's table came a snort of disgust. Well, let her be disgusted. He had the horses reserved and come morning, they'd head out. He couldn't think of any way she could stop them.

*   *   *

The impromptu dance with Mac had flustered Georgie. She wasn't used to being swirled into a dance without warning. Such a thing hadn't happened to her in years, not since the Double J cowhands had left town.

Her heart continued to race after Mac returned her to her seat and her half-finished meal. Mac didn't interest her, either. None of them did. But she'd forgotten how lovely it was to be caught up in strong arms and whisked around the floor, even without the benefit of music.

She'd forgotten how much she'd enjoyed the company of virile men, too. These three cowboys weren't her cup of tea, not by a long shot, but they certainly were . . . male. Exceedingly so. She gulped her wine.

What a fine mess she'd created for herself. By staying in Bickford and attempting to help save the town from total ruin, she'd suppressed hormonal urges that any typical twenty-eight-year-old woman would welcome. Doing that had been easy when no attractive, single men were in the vicinity.

When the cowboys left town Sunday night, the number of single guys her age would drop to zero once again. She'd been so busy worrying about the store and the town that she hadn't stopped to think that if things continued as they were, she could end up dateless for some time to come. She was willing to sacrifice a lot for the future of Bickford, but she hadn't intended to sacrifice her sex life.

Anastasia didn't have anybody to date in Bickford, either, but she didn't seem all that concerned about it. Georgie's stepmother, Evelyn, wouldn't want Anastasia to end up with someone from Bickford, anyway. She'd been trying to convince Anastasia to go live with Charmaine in Dallas so they could both find wealthy husbands, but Anastasia had resisted the plan.

Despite her art school training, she seemed content to help out at the store. Unfortunately she was such a dreamer that Georgie hesitated to leave her alone there. She'd once flooded the back room when she'd forgotten about the water running in the sink, and another time she'd almost burned the place down with a scented candle she'd set under a hand towel.

Georgie had finished her dinner and was about to leave when Clyde Abbott, the eightysomething mayor of Bickford and a dear friend, walked into the saloon. If she'd been paying attention to the time, she would have expected him. He was always the first to arrive for the nightly poker game.

Short and plump, he'd been married to his wife, Inez, for sixty years. She was thin and a good six inches taller than Clyde. They adored each other and attributed their happy marriage to giving each other plenty of space. Clyde played poker with his cronies every night and Inez watched crime drama on TV.

Clyde surveyed the three men sitting at the bar before making his way over to Georgie's table and pulling out a chair. “Those boys look familiar,” he said in a low voice. “Did they work at the Double J?”

Georgie nodded and quietly gave him a rundown. Clyde was the only member of the council besides her who wasn't partially deaf. That allowed them to talk about the newcomers without being heard. She filled him in on the cowboys' plan to round up the Ghost and Ike's belief that they'd be too hungover to manage it.

Clyde kept glancing at the newcomers as she talked. When she was finished, he focused his attention on her. “I'm sure this upsets you.”

“Yep.”

“Let's think about this logically, Georgie.” Clyde's recent cataract surgery meant he didn't have to wear glasses. His gaze was sharp and clear. “Your Ghost may be a little slower, but he's smarter, too.”

“I hope so.” She appreciated Clyde's understanding more than she could say. Of all the people in town, he and Anastasia were the only two with some idea of what the horses meant to her. “And he's not
my
Ghost. I don't have any claim to him.”

“Nobody does, which is the point. But he's your project, so that's all I meant. I'm inclined to think Ike is right and this problem will take care of itself.”