Her Montana Cowboy. Valerie HansenЧитать онлайн книгу.
That’s not entirely true, Ryan mused. He did care about one person. And she was bestowing the loveliest, most warm and wonderful smile he’d ever had the pleasure to receive.
If he’d been the romantic type, he might even have said it made his heart sing.
* * *
Julie saw plenty of happy families all around her, yet had eyes only for the stalwart cowboy and the trusting little boy. There was something endearing about them, not that she hadn’t seen plenty of fathers and sons together before.
She turned back to her tasks with the sheep, but her mind continued to dwell on Ryan. Perhaps the sight of him befriending the boy seemed so wonderful because he had told her he was close to no one, had no family other than his mother, whom he rarely saw. It was almost as if Julie was being given a glimpse of the kind of father he could someday become.
“Are those girls or boys?” Ryan’s young friend asked.
“These are all girls. Mama sheep are called ewes,” Julie replied. “I brought these to the rodeo because they’re so friendly.”
“I know horses can live twenty years or more,” Ryan said. “How old are these animals?”
Julie chuckled. “Be careful you don’t hurt their feelings. They might take offense if they knew you’d called them old.”
“Sorry. It’s hard to tell.”
“It can be unless you’re used to judging sheep. These are about eight. As long as I have the room and plenty of feed, they’ll live out their natural lives in my flock.”
“Not a very practical approach to ranching,” the cowboy said.
“Yes and no. Business is good and they still produce fine wool. Sales have really taken off since I updated my website. I’ve had to hire more help for lambing and shearing.”
Whatever happened, Julie was determined to keep her hands on every aspect of Warm and Fuzzy. The name of her business went back to her days as a youngster in 4-H, and it always made her smile. So did being in the company of gentle ewes and their lambs. Adult rams were another story. She never turned her back on them, even in the off-season.
“I can’t figure out the look of that wool,” Ryan said. “It’s almost silky.”
“That’s because I specialize in Leicester Longwools.”
“Lesters? Like in Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, the bluegrass pickers?”
Julie chuckled. “It’s pronounced Lester but spelled L-e-i-c-e-s-t-e-r. They’re rare but have amazing fleeces.”
“They certainly do. Not that I’ve paid a lot of attention before. I guess you can tell I’m used to hanging around horses and cattle.”
The young man helping her offered his hand to Ryan. “Me, too, but I got roped into this. I’m Adam, Little Bo Peep’s brother.”
The men shook hands.
“You’re forgiven—but Adam isn’t,” Julie said with a mock scowl. She shooed him back to work and returned to her interrupted conversation with Ryan.
“The Jasper Gulch Chamber of Commerce and Event Committee thanks you and all your fellow competitors for being here,” Julie said formally.
“I’d rather you thanked me personally,” Ryan said “Will you be free tonight during the fireworks show?”
“I’d planned to watch with my family. There are a lot of us, and we usually make a party out of it.” Hesitating, she finally added, “If you want to join us, you’ll be most welcome.”
“Thanks. Where will you be?”
“On the old bridge over Beaver Creek. It’s one of the reasons we decided to hold such a long celebration instead of just remembering the town’s actual founding date. We’re trying to raise money to repair the picturesque sites like that bridge and encourage tourism. Being so close to Yellowstone Park, we think we’ll have a fair chance of success, particularly if we can add a scenic route to the option of driving through Jasper Gulch instead of going around it on the highway.”
“I guess that makes sense for folks who have the time to just look at scenery. I’m always in a hurry or driving at night to make the next competition.”
Julie straightened and shook her head as she gazed at him and said, “That’s sad.”
“Not to me, it isn’t. I happen to like my life on the road.”
What could she do but smile? “Then more power to you. There are too many people who never decide what they want to do or who they want to be. One day they wake up and realize it’s too late for them.”
She checked her watch. “Speaking of late, I need to get these ewes lined out so the kids can start.”
“Go right ahead. We’ll just watch. Right, buddy?”
The child tugged on his hand. “There’s my mama!”
“Then you’d better go tell her where you are so she doesn’t worry.”
“Yeah!”
Julie paused as soon as she’d guided the first two ewes into the narrow passageway to the makeshift chutes the kids were using. “That was sweet of you.”
“What was?”
“Looking after that little boy until his mother found him. She must have been worried sick.”
Ryan shrugged. “Maybe. I didn’t do it for her. She should have kept better track of him.”
“I’m sure she tried.”
“Maybe.”
Watching his changing expressions, Julie wondered why the mention of a mother’s care and concern seemed to bother him so much. Was that why he’d been so noncommittal when she’d asked if he intended to visit his own mother? Perhaps. Then again, maybe he was simply the kind of adult who looked out for the welfare of children.
And damsels in distress, she added silently, stifling a telling grin. There was no way she’d ever qualify as a damsel, in distress or otherwise. Given her ability to take care of herself beautifully, as well as running a ranching and internet business, she knew she wasn’t the type of woman who brought out a man’s protective instincts.
“Well, thanks anyway, on behalf of Jasper Gulch,” Julie said pleasantly. “This is a safe little town when we’re not entertaining so many visitors. Dad hired extra sheriff’s men to help the regular deputy, Cal Calloway, patrol during our special events. Truth to tell, a few men in uniform would never be able to handle all the problems that might arise if we didn’t look after one another the way we always do.”
“I’m sure your old friend Rusty would be glad to strap on a six-shooter and help,” Ryan teased.
He was trying to lighten the mood, Julie decided. And to distract her from the way his persona had hardened in defense of the child. This cowboy was a complex person, one who chose to keep his true emotions in check and present himself as a carefree drifter. He was not. She might hardly know him, but she could tell that already.
The true puzzle was not what he did for a living, it was why. Lots of young men rode well and could have competed the way Ryan did, yet most chose to stay home and use their skills on family ranches. This talented rider insisted he was proud of having no roots, of being totally free.
But he was not free, she concluded. Far from it. He was bearing a burden in his heart that she had only glimpsed. In the days to come, while the rodeo continued, she planned to find out more. To try to understand his motivation for breaking old ties and not forming new ones.
And in the meantime, she would do the only thing she could. She would pray for him and wait for the Lord’s guidance.
* * *
Ryan