Her Cowboy's Triplets Read online

  “Find a horse I can ride?” he asked, the hope and anticipation on his face too much to resist. “I can do it, Mom. I just need some practice.”

  She sighed, running her fingers through his hair. “I know you can. We’ll figure something out, okay? I promise.”

  He nodded, smiling ear to ear. “Okay.” He climbed into bed and pulled his blankets up. “Studying tonight?”

  She nodded. She had plenty to do. The problem was she didn’t want to do it. No, tonight her restlessness was at an all-time high.

  “You get some sleep,” she said, stopping to press a kiss to his forehead.

  “I will.” He yawned around his words, his eyelids already heavy. “I’m beat.”

  She giggled and stood, turning off his overhead light and flipping on his T. rex night-light. With another, “Night,” she pulled his bedroom door shut behind her and leaned against it, staring around the small cabin she and Cal called home. It was a tiny guest cottage on the dude ranch, two bedrooms and a kitchen-dining area. Perched just far enough from the main lodge to give her a sense of independence, its isolation was the reason most guests asked for a different room. And, sometimes, she did feel achingly lonely—though the cabin’s location probably didn’t have much to do with that.

  She pushed through the front door and peered into the black night sky. A million stars sparkled down on her. Between the white rocks cropping up through groundcover and the light of the moon overhead, the ground was a patchwork quilt of shadow and light.

  “India?” Scarlett called out, the beam of a flashlight breaking the pitch-black near the tree line.

  “Hey.” She waved, relieved by the company.

  “I had to escape,” Scarlett said, laughing. “Ever since Dad read about Brody, he’s all fired up. Mom just told him about the committee meeting tomorrow—”

  “She just told him? She’s been planning it for a month. Making sure the food and drinks are better than what Mindy-Ellen Shroeder provided when she last hosted the meeting.” She shook her head. “I rarely say this, but poor Dad.”

  Scarlett nodded, climbing up the porch steps. She pulled up the second patio chair and sat. “Yep. On top of the Fort Kyle guests, he has to deal with the county elite.”

  “Every town in a fifty-mile radius. Poor, poor Dad. It’s bound to be long and drawn out. Hobnobbing and small talk and...” She shook her head, laughing.

  “You’re going to be there, too, right?” Scarlett asked, her smile fading. Her sister didn’t do well in crowds.

  “Of course. We can team up.” India grinned. “I just hope the committee decides to do the right thing. We need the Monarch Festival. No matter how much work it requires.”

  “Be careful saying that too loudly or you’ll be nominated to some action committee. Or put in charge of programming or something.” Scarlett drew her feet up and under her. “Sure is quiet out here.”

  India nodded. “I was just thinking that.”

  “Sort of a nice change from the main house.” Scarlett glanced her way. “How’s it going? The studying and the working? And life? And, that thing with Brody?”

  India smiled at her sister, who was two years younger. Scarlett was a gentle soul. India worried about her getting lost in the shuffle sometimes. The rest of the family were all loud and stubborn, but not Scarlett. She was the peacemaker. The one who wanted to make everyone happy. Which was impossible. “Good, really. The kids are adorable. It’s nice being able to see what Cal’s learning and getting to know the kids he goes to school with. Working with Mom and Dad is, as you know, a challenge. And my studies...I just have to keep the goal in mind, you know?”

  “I’m tired just listening to you.” Scarlett laughed.

  “I was feeling a little antsy when you showed up. Must have been your sisterly intuition,” India teased.

  “I aim to please. What do you have in mind? Hair braiding, polishing each other’s nails and boy talk?”

  India perked up. “Boy talk? Scarlett Ann Boone, is there a boy we need to talk about?”

  Scarlett laughed. “No. I was thinking about you.”

  “Me? Cal is the only boy in my life.”

  “I saw you two together, India. And now you’re avoiding my question, so I know there’s something going on. With Brody Wallace.” Scarlett shrugged. “That was the most intense thank-you hug I’ve ever seen. And Miss Francis sort of implied something might be going on.”

  India stared. “Are you kidding me?” She knew Miss Francis liked to talk, but there was nothing to tell.

  Scarlett shook her head. “I’m not. Are you saying it’s not true? I’m sort of bummed.”

  India didn’t know what to say.

  Scarlett’s sigh echoed in the still of the night. “It’s okay if it’s true, you know. I’ve always liked Brody. He’s a good guy. And, I promise, I won’t say anything to anyone.”

  “He is a good guy,” India agreed. She looked at her sister, tempted to confide her new and alarming reactions to Brody Wallace. She’d forgotten how it felt to have someone on her side. JT hadn’t liked her family, and in time, she’d learned to avoid anything that upset him. In hindsight she realized he was cutting her off from the people who’d have stepped in to prevent his ill treatment of her. It had worked. She’d blocked them out—something else her father had yet to forgive her for.

  “And?” Scarlett prodded. “India? Go on.”

  “And we’re friends. But...” She swallowed.

  Scarlett waited.

  “I think I’m lonely. And Brody is...” What was Brody?

  “Hot? Sweet? Funny? Awesome?” Scarlett offered. “Ya’ll have been secret pals for years. Now he could be potential boyfriend material?”

  India bit her lip. She was ridiculously attracted to him. Off the charts aware of him. But that didn’t mean she needed to do anything about it. Or consider Brody Wallace boyfriend material. “He did buy me a coffee because I gave him mine.”

  “What about the hug?” Scarlett asked.

  “It happened. I hugged him. He hugged me back. We sort of stuck that way.” She sighed, savoring the memories of his arms around her and the brush of his breath on her neck. A slight shudder ran down her back. “And I didn’t want to let go.” She looked at her sister then, nervous and uncertain about sharing like this.

  “What’s wrong with that, India? Nothing. Nothing at all.” Scarlett took her hand. “Just be extra careful. There’s not much to do in this town except talk. Now, with the election, a budding romance between a Boone and a Wallace would be the juiciest thing this town has seen in a long time.”

  India squeezed her hand. Her sister was right. The best plan of action: avoid Brody at all costs. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about how he made her react or feel or ache. Or what it would be like for Brody to be more than a friend.

  * * *

  BRODY LINGERED INSIDE the front door of the Fire Gorge Lodge, his hat in his hands, assessing the packed entry hall of the lavish dude ranch. After parking among a sea of custom pickups, BMWs, Mercedes, Audis and the occasional work truck, he knew the key players from the surrounding counties were here, too. But seeing them here in all their finery was a daunting site.

  As was the towering image of Woodrow Boone standing at the top of the stairs. He was talking to someone, the smile on his face forced and brittle, and he looked ready to run. A feeling Brody understood but had to ignore if he was going to take his run for mayor seriously. And he was. He hadn’t expected the turnout at the library, or his supporters’ enthusiasm and willingness to do whatever needed doing. It was just the reaffirmation he needed.

  Woodrow Boone’s steely gaze locked with his. Hostility rolled off the older man, the tightening of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils and the white-knuckled grip of his hand on the banister. He looked ready to stomp down the stairs and tear into him. But he hesitated, spun on
his heel and disappeared from the upstairs landing.

  When Brody was joined by Scarlett and Miss Francis, he didn’t know. But Scarlett’s soft voice pulled him back to the present.

  “Hey, Brody, glad you made it,” Scarlett said.

  “And found parking,” Miss Francis added. “We’re all packed in like sardines.”

  “Means no one is leaving,” Brody said, putting on his best smile. “A captive audience. Might be useful if everyone’s set against revitalizing the Monarch Festival.”

  “It’s a mixed reaction,” Scarlett said. “But I think a firm nudge in the right direction—”

  “A couple of your megawatt, charming smiles can’t hurt.” Miss Francis nudged him in the side.

  Scarlett giggled. “Well, I don’t think it will take much to remind them how important the festival is to the community.”

  “Surely local businesses have seen it affect their bottom line?” Brody asked.

  “It’s been two years.” Miss Francis shook her head. “It’ll take more than that before they start to feel it in their pocketbook.”

  “And by then the tradition of the festival will be a memory.” Brody sighed.

  “That’s why you’re here,” Scarlett said, smiling.

  “That, and making your father see red.” He glanced at the landing, but there was no sign of Mr. Woodrow Boone.

  “Already?” Scarlett asked.

  “Hey, Brody.” Cal ran up, all smiles and childhood enthusiasm. “Like your boots. Got some new ones myself.” He held up his foot, tugging up his jeans so Brody could inspect them.

  His only choice was dropping to a knee to do just that. “Soft leather. Good fit. And the tooling—nice details.”

  Cal nodded. “Got ’em this morning.”

  “I approve,” he said, tugging Cal’s pants leg down before standing and patting the boy’s shoulder. And coming face-to-face with India. Her smile was so sweet it made his chest ache.

  “Hi. You’re here,” she murmured, her gaze darting nervously around the room. He couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him or not. “Have you seen my dad? Mom wants him.”

  “He’s upstairs.” He smiled at her. “He wasn’t happy to see me. Took one look at me and disappeared.”

  India blew out a long, slow breath, her gaze searching his.

  “I knew coming out here wasn’t a good idea—”

  “He’s just being...Dad,” Scarlett argued. “Of course you’re welcome.”

  “It’s a public meeting, Brody,” India said. “Anyone with an opinion on the fate of the Monarch Festival is invited—especially mayoral candidates.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s part of the problem.” Brody laughed.

  Glancing at the stairs, India said, “Come on, Cal, let’s go drag your grandfather from his study and make him be social.”

  Cal’s shoulders slumped. “His study is off-limits.”

  “Not today. He can bluster and complain all he wants.” India took Cal’s hand in hers. “He never says no to your grandma.”

  “I’ll come, too,” Scarlett offered.

  Brody watched the three of them ascend the stairs, the women each holding one of Cal’s hands. The boy was smiling by the time they reached the top of the stairs, his gaze bouncing back and forth between his mother and his aunt.

  “Maybe you should have brought your girls,” Miss Francis said. “The man has daughters—he’s sure to have a soft spot for them. And they are precious girls.”

  “That’s just what I need right now. Chasing after Amberleigh with her clothes in one hand and her shoes in the other,” he argued.

  Miss Francis laughed then. “Maybe you’re right. She’ll grow out of it soon enough, don’t you worry. No sense standing around out here. Let’s go shake some hands, mingle and show you off.”

  “You clean up well, Miss Francis,” he said, leading them into an open meeting room outfitted with a bar and a few tables and chairs.

  “I don’t mind getting dressed up when necessary,” she said, patting his arm.

  He grinned. Whatever she was wearing, the old woman had a commanding presence that earned her attention and respect from all who met her. And Brody admired the hell out of her.

  “Where do we start?” he asked.

  “Why, with Mayor Draper, of course,” she murmured. “I saw him earlier. Now’s as good a time as any to be cordial and neighborly. You know, keep this election civil and all.”

  He hoped she was right. He had nothing but respect for the man who had served Fort Kyle so long.

  “Brody Wallace,” the old man wheezed as they approached, extending an unsteady hand. “Nice to see you out and about, boy.”

  Brody swallowed his surprise and took the man’s hand. “You, too, sir.”

  “I hear you’re going to finally replace me?” Mayor Draper asked. “I kept waiting for someone to run, someone to step up and take the reins. ’Bout time. I’m tired,” he said, clapping Brody’s shoulder with his other hand. “And I’m mighty glad it’s you.”

  When Brody had imagined this meeting, this was a scenario that had never crossed his mind. He would run unchallenged? He was aware of their growing audience. If they were looking for drama, they’d be disappointed. “That means a lot, sir. I have some mighty big shoes to fill, but I give you my word I’ll work hard to do the best I can for our fine town and the people who live hereabouts.”

  Mayor Draper nodded and released his hand. “I believe you will, son. I believe you will.”

  “Good intentions or not, it won’t be easy.” Woodrow Boone joined them, doing his damnedest not to look Brody in the eye. “You’ve been doing a fine job, John. You can’t just step aside without giving the people a vote. I’m not so sure Fort Kyle is ready to see you go.”

  John Draper snorted. “I think I’ve earned the right to make my own mind up on this one, Woodrow. It won’t be easy, that’s the truth. But he’s young, eager, with brains to boot. He’ll do fine. More than fine, I reckon.” He grinned, his cloudy eyes glancing between the two of them. “But we’re not here to talk politics today, are we? We’re here to talk about the Monarch Festival.”

  Brody appreciated Draper’s seamless shift in conversation. Intentional or not, John Draper kept the tension compressed and the focus where it needed to be: Fort Kyle’s economic future.

  In ten minutes, everyone was ushered into the dining room for a buffet brunch complete with fancy china and instrumental classic country tunes piped in through the speakers. Brody took his time exploring. In all his years, he’d been invited here only twice, not including today. But both his prom and his senior-year awards banquet were hazy now. His prom had consisted of dancing with every girl besides India, while being aware of her every movement. She’d looked so damn pretty in her pink dress, he’d had a hard time keeping his distance—even with Mrs. Boone serving as chaperone.

  His senior awards banquet had been overshadowed by the huge fight he’d had with his parents. No matter how much he and his mother had pleaded and explained how important the awards were, his father flat-out refused to set foot on Boone property. Eventually he’d gone on his own, red-faced and stiff through most of the evening. While his peers had their friends and family to cheer them on, he sat alone. India had shot him sympathetic glances throughout the evening, but her parents’ attendance had prevented her from being at his side.

  Everything about Fire Gorge Lodge was impressive. From the outside, it appeared to be one massive log cabin. But inside, it was pure elegance—with a dash of rustic thrown in for atmosphere. Sure, there were antlers and hunting trophies on the walls, pictures of generations of Boones working the ranch as well as faded tintype photos of the Boone ancestors. The pride in their heritage was obvious. But the attention to the comfort of guests who frequented the dude ranch—overstuffed chairs, massive televisions, technology-charging
stations, arctic air-conditioning—made it clear they understood their clientele’s expectations.

  “Like what you see?” Woodrow Boone asked, his tone hard and cold.

  “I do, sir. It’s an impressive setup.” He looked the man squarely in the eye, determined not to let the man intimidate him. “It was mighty generous of you to host this meeting—”

  “My wife’s idea.” He scowled. “I’d have been far more selective with the invitations.”

  Brody pressed his lips tight. His only response was a nod.

  “Why are you here?” the man asked, stepping closer. The words bordered on a growl, low and deep and menacing. “So you can get your picture in the paper again and shake hands with the real royalty hereabouts? Or because you know there’s no way I can kick your ass off my property without making a scene?”

  Brody winced at Woodrow Boone’s bluntness. He’d hoped there was a chance of civility between them—Brody wasn’t his father. “I wanted to offer my help and support for revitalizing the Monarch Festival. I meant you no personal offense—”

  “No?” Woodrow Boone’s face was turning an alarming shade of red. “You really thought I wouldn’t be offended by a Wallace—a name that has slandered mine loudly and publicly—taking advantage of the comforts of my home?”

  From the corner of his eye he saw India practically running their way. “Daddy.” She slid her arm through Woodrow’s, tugging him back. “You promised Mom.”

  “I don’t need you reminding me to keep my promises,” he barked, shaking off her touch.

  Brody saw the hurt on her face and ached for her. Whatever point the man had been trying to make with his comment, his words had hit their mark.

  India’s cheeks blazed red, her gaze shifting from her father to the dining room doors. “Lunch is being served.”

  “I’ll be along when I’m good and ready,” Woodrow countered, his voice noticeably rising. “I don’t need you handling me, India. And I don’t like you trying.”

  India stared at the floor, but her tone was urgent. “Dad, please, we have guests. And Mom—”