The Rancher's Wedding Read online

  “Good job. I’ll expect you. And thanks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  JL hung up the phone. Well, that was a story he’d enjoy telling Parker and Drum. And maybe Cassie as well.

  A few days later, he drove out to town and picked up Cassie after work to show her the growing calf crop.

  “How about your wolf?” she asked curiously.

  “Now, there’s a story and a half,” he chuckled, and related the story that Butch Matthews had told him.

  “But you’re going to lure him into a trap?” she asked, aghast.

  “A live trap.”

  She just stared at him.

  “It’s called a humane trap. You put bait in it and wait for the animal to walk in. There’s a spring that closes the gate and traps him inside, unharmed.”

  “Oh.” She hesitated. “But what if you don’t go back to check the trap and he starves to death?”

  He shook his head with an affectionate smile. “Oh, tender heart,” he teased.

  She sighed. “I guess I am.”

  “It wasn’t a complaint. Butch checks the trap every few hours,” he added. “He’s staying with us until Two Toes cooperates.”

  “What is he going to do with the old wolf when he traps him?” she asked worriedly.

  “Take him home and feed him venison stew.”

  “Don’t tease,” she said gently.

  “I’m not. He’s going to take him home and feed him venison stew. Butch is the wildlife rehabilitator I told you about. He loves wolves. He had another one that was injured and couldn’t be released into the wild. It lived with him for six years. He grieved for a long time after. Two Toes will be good for him.”

  “I see. That’s not what I expected,” she confessed, and laughed self-consciously.

  “Not what I expected, either,” he laughed. “We usually trap animals like that and take them far up into the mountains and release them. We can’t do that to Two Toes because he’d starve.”

  “He hasn’t caught him yet?”

  He shook his head. “Two Toes is wily. He’s hard to fool.”

  “I can see why. He sounds very intelligent.”

  “Like some dogs,” JL agreed. “We had a shepherd dog here a few years back, as a guard dog. He understood most of what you told him, and whole sentences, not just random words. You could tell him to go into another room, get a particular toy, and bring it back, and he’d do it.” He sighed. “Never had another dog that smart.”

  “What happened to him?” she asked.

  “He belonged to Drum, my foreman. Drum’s girlfriend loved the dog to death and phoned every day to find out how he was when they broke up. In the end, Drum gave him to her. He said she’d grieve herself to death if he didn’t.”

  “Poor Drum,” she said.

  “The dog was happy with her,” he replied. “She took him everywhere with her. In fact, her next boyfriend didn’t like him, so she got rid of the boyfriend.” He laughed. “Tickled Drum to death.”

  “Think she might come back to him?”

  “Anything’s possible. But he’s had several girlfriends. Women love him. He’s just not easily lassoed. He likes being by himself. He doesn’t mix well with other people. His girlfriend was making long-term plans, and it spooked him. He said he wasn’t ready for all that.”

  “All that?” she wondered.

  “Picket fences, kids, dinner at home, no more poker on Friday night with the boys. That sort of thing.”

  “Maybe it’s just as well,” she said. “I think it takes a lot of work to keep a couple together. My mom and dad loved each other very much, but even they had arguments and threatened to split up every so often. They compromised.”

  “So did my parents. Besides that, both of them were kind-natured. They never went out of their way to hurt each other, like some couples do today. I think compromise and tolerance are key parts of a good relationship.”

  “I do, too.”

  He glanced at her, a little concerned.

  “I haven’t climbed Mount Everest yet,” she said abruptly and without looking at him.

  He burst out laughing as he got the reference about when she planned to get married. “Stop reading my mind.”

  “Stop thinking absurd things,” she shot right back.

  He just shook his head.

  * * *

  They had a pasta salad and fruit for lunch, courtesy of JL’s housekeeper, Bessie. The older woman was overweight and abrupt, but she had kind eyes and she seemed to approve of Cassie on sight.

  “Heard you got sick?” she said as she poured hot coffee into their mugs as they sat at the table.

  “Chest infection,” Cassie replied. “I have asthma, so I’m prone to them.”

  “Had a grandma who was like that,” the housekeeper said. She put the coffeepot up. “Back in a sec,” she said, and ambled down the hall.

  “This is wonderful coffee,” Cassie mentioned to JL.

  “Bessie likes it strong. So do I,” he said.

  Bessie was back in a minute with a long, heavy wool coat. She draped it over the back of an empty chair beside Cassie. “That belongs to my daughter,” she told Cassie. “You wear that when you go out into the cold with him,” she said, indicating JL. “Colorado is no place for a lightweight coat,” she added with a kind smile.

  Cassie’s pride throbbed but she bit her tongue. “Thanks,” she said huskily. “Thanks so much.”

  Bessie patted her gently on the back. “It’s no problem, taking care of nice folks,” she replied.

  Cassie was fighting tears. The woman had a big heart.

  JL saw those glistening eyes and he smiled tenderly. “That’s what we’re both doing,” he added. “Taking care of nice folks.”

  “Thanks,” she said softly.

  “Eat up,” he said. “A full belly makes traveling easier.”

  “Are we traveling, then?” she asked as she blinked away the tears and dug into her pasta salad.

  “We are. To see the calves.”

  “Oh, boy!” she enthused.

  He laughed out loud at her enthusiasm. “We’ve got a good crop this year,” he told her. “Lucky for us that we only had an inch or two of snow. The spring grass will pop up, soon, just in time to feed the new babies.”

  “I can’t wait to—”

  The ringing of his phone interrupted her. It was playing the theme song of a popular new movie. She grinned as she recognized it.

  He winked at her as he answered it. “Yes? Oh, hi, Butch,” he added. “How’s it going? Yes, I remember. Yes.” His eyebrows arched. “You did? When?” He paused. “Sure, I can send Drum. I’ll come myself. The three of us should be able to get him into the truck without any issues. We can go home with you, if you think . . . Okay. Well, you know wolves better than any of us. Sure. About ten minutes? We’ll meet you there.” He hung up.

  “He got Two Toes,” he told Cassie and Bessie, who were both waiting to hear what was said.

  “Hooray,” Bessie broke out. “Peace and quiet at last!”

  “We hope,” JL chuckled.

  “Are you going to see him? Can I come?” Cassie asked at once.

  He scowled, a little concerned.

  “Please?” she added, and her blue eyes pinned his and pleaded with him.

  He drew in a breath. “It might be risky. . . .”

  “It won’t be,” she said with certainty. “I’ll stay back and do what I’m told. Please?”

  He was remembering how she’d panicked when the wolves had crossed their paths, the day she got sick.

  “It was because they came up so suddenly,” she said, puzzling Bessie, who didn’t know what had happened that day. “It wasn’t the wolves. Honest.”

  “Okay then. But, got your rescue inhaler with you?”

  She pulled it out of her pocket and showed it to him.

  “All right. You can come.”

  She grinned and grabbed the coat Bessie had brought out for her.

  * * *


  Butch Matthews was waiting for them at the edge of a section of lodgepole pines, with the snow-covered peaks of the mountains for a backdrop. A tall, lanky man, he was leaning up against the truck with his arms folded.

  That was when Cassie, bundled up in Bessie’s daughter’s warm, wool coat, noticed that one of his arms was artificial. That would explain why he couldn’t lift the wolf into the truck by himself. She noticed something else when she looked past him at the trap. That wolf was twice the size of a large dog. He was huge. He was prone in the cage, just looking at the approaching humans without howling or making a noise of any kind.

  “Has he been like that all this time?” JL asked, puzzled, as they approached the cage.

  “Yep,” Butch Matthews said with a grin. “Never tried to bite me, even when I gave him some jerky and a little water. I think he remembers me,” he added, and took a minute to explain the remark to Cassie, who was fascinated by the story he told.

  JL was staring intensely at the huge wolf. “I never get tired of looking at them,” he said quietly. “They’re magnificent creatures. I hate losing calves to them, but it isn’t malicious, what they do. They’re hungry and when they find food, they eat it.”

  “Except when they’re old and their teeth are rotten and they can’t half see.”

  “What?” JL asked.

  “This old pet is just about blind, JL,” Butch said, indicating Two Toes. “His eyes are milky, as if he’s got cataracts. I’m going to get one of the wildlife service people over to look at him, to make sure. But I don’t think he can see much. He must have been going on smell alone to find even a calf.”

  “What a shame,” JL said. “Left in the wild, he’d die.”

  “He would. He could easily fall off the side of a sheer cliff, without being able to see where he’s going. Starvation would probably be a better bet. I don’t anticipate much argument over getting to keep him.” He grinned. “Except he might have to just listen to TV instead of watching it with me.”

  “He’s so pretty,” Cassie said involuntarily. “I never realized wolves were so big.”

  “Most people don’t, if they’ve never seen one in person. Native Americans have all sorts of legends about them.”

  “I’ve read some of those,” she confessed.

  “She was a newspaper reporter,” JL told his friend.

  “Really?” Butch asked. “That must be a high-pressure job.”

  “It was,” she said. “I don’t do it anymore. But if I did, what a feature story Two Toes would make,” she added with a sigh.

  “Feel free to interview me, anytime you like,” Butch said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I can tell plenty of stories about wildlife that you’ll never read in a book.”

  “I might take you up on that sometime,” she said, but not with any great enthusiasm. In fact, she moved just a little closer to JL, although she still smiled at Butch.

  JL felt oddly protective when she did that. His arm slid over her shoulder and drew her close. He smiled down at her. “She’s softhearted,” he said gently. “She was afraid we were going to kill Two Toes.”

  “We’d never do that,” Butch laughed. “He’s so well-known around these mountains that they’d probably ride us out of town on a rail if we even talked about it.”

  “People know about him?” she exclaimed.

  “Sure they do,” JL answered. “Benton’s so small and thrives on gossip. Two Toes is a great conversation starter. People have spotted him all around town on government land and private land. He’s recognizable.”

  “But they can’t see from a distance that he has just two toes on one foot, can they?” she began.

  They both laughed.

  “That’s not why. Come over here,” Butch invited, and positioned himself right in front of the wolf.

  She joined him, with JL, and caught her breath. “Well, for heaven’s sake!” she exclaimed.

  The big wolf was snow white except for a dark gray ruff around his head. But that was where he was most distinctive. His dark gray head had several white streaks through it, as if he’d had his fur dyed in a unique pattern.

  “As you see,” Butch continued, “he isn’t hard to recognize, even at a distance. There isn’t another wolf anywhere around with his particular coloring.”

  “He really is unique,” Cassie said softly, staring at the big animal.

  It turned its head and looked at her. It made an odd woofing sound and then whined. It cocked its head at her and sniffed.

  She was fascinated. Without asking, she went closer to the cage, very slowly, and dropped down to one knee beside it.

  “Pretty boy,” she said softly. “Sweet old wolf.”

  He whined again and lowered his head to look up at her with big pale milky brown eyes.

  She reached into the cage, slowly, and rubbed her fingers over his head, between his eyes. He whined again and sighed, making no move to bite or snap at her.

  “Animals like you, miss,” Butch remarked.

  She laughed softly. “I’ve always had dogs,” she said. “Well, until the past few months,” she added sadly. “My last dog was very old. He developed cancer and we had to put him down.”

  “They can treat that, but it’s massively expensive,” Butch said.

  “Massively,” she agreed, not adding that she’d had the dog given chemotherapy in a hopeless effort to prolong his life. Finally, her father had convinced her that she was only adding to the animal’s suffering. There was no hope of recovery. She gave in. Even the vet said that it was the kindest thing to do. “I still miss him,” she added gently.

  “What sort of dog was he?” JL asked.

  She smiled. “A malamute,” she replied.

  “In Georgia?!” JL exclaimed.

  She laughed. “Well, we had air-conditioning, you know. Although one day I came home from work and found him sitting inside the refrigerator. He’d opened the door after the air conditioner apparently failed.” She shook her head. “It was a mess to clean up. He just laughed,” she added, recalling the dog’s happy expression.

  “I had a malamute, and a Siberian husky once,” JL said. “They’re great pets. Lousy watchdogs.”

  “I know!” She laughed out loud. “If you were ever robbed, they’d follow the burglars around, show them the best stuff, and help them carry it outside to their getaway car. At least, Ranger would have,” she added.

  “But they’re great company.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Ranger would sit outside with me on nights when we had meteor showers, and just lie down and be quiet the whole time, sometimes for hours.”

  “You like meteor showers?” JL asked.

  “I love them.”

  “So do I.”

  She got to her feet. “Good luck, old fellow,” she told Two Toes.

  “He won’t need luck. He’s got Matthews,” JL chuckled.

  “Well, if you’ll help me get him loaded up,” Butch began.

  A pickup truck pulled off the road and parked next to JL’s SUV. A tall, powerfully built man with long black hair and a somber face joined them. “Caught him, I hear?” he asked.

  “Caught him. Hey, Parker,” Butch greeted, shaking the newcomer’s hand. “I could use a little help. . . .”

  “No problem.” Parker walked over to the cage, knelt beside it, and passed something into the cage for the wolf. He patted it on the head and said something else. Then he got to his feet and, without asking for assistance, picked up the cage and slid it onto the bed of the pickup truck all by himself. He put up the tailgate and secured it in place.

  “I didn’t see that,” Butch said.

  “I didn’t see that, either,” JL added.

  “I lift weights,” Parker said, glaring at them. “You could do it, too, if either of you ever went to a gym!”

  “Wouldn’t do me much good,” Butch sighed, indicating his mechanical arm, but smiling, as if making light of his disability.

  “Wouldn’t now,” Parker agr
eed. “But you couldn’t have lifted him before you lost that arm, Matthews,” he added with a grin.

  “I guess not. I hate gyms. Nasty, smelly places,” Butch said, making a face.

  “Well, he won’t build me a gym,” Parker said, jerking a thumb at JL, “so I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “Why should I build you a gym?” he asked the tall man.

  “Because I can break horses like nobody else who works for you. And mostly, so I wouldn’t have to go to town where there are nasty, smelly gyms and wandering gangs of panting women.”

  Cassie blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “Panting women,” Parker said, turning his twinkling black eyes and his infectious grin on her. “Every time I take off my shirt to work out, I have to fend them off with shields. A man with my assets gets harassed all the time by women.”

  “You should sue,” JL said with a straight face.

  “Absolutely,” Butch agreed. “Or, at least, take me with you to the gym so that I can get the overflow.”

  Parker chuckled. “I might take you up on that.”

  “Thanks for the help,” Butch said.

  “No problem, Sarge,” he replied. “I still owe you for that last deployment in Iraq.”

  “Yeah, well, I owe you a couple of favors, too,” came the reply.

  Cassie sensed the affection between the two men and wondered at it.

  Parker threw up his hand and went back to his own truck. Butch thanked JL again, got into his truck, and drove away, leaving Cassie and JL alone.

  “Why did he call Mr. Matthews ‘Sarge’?” she asked.

  “That’s a long story,” he replied. “I’ll tell it to you, on the way to see the calves.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Isn’t Mr. Parker the man you said you had to keep away from people because he cussed so much?” she asked.

  “He is.”

  “But he didn’t cuss a single time,” she pointed out.

  “Must have a fever or something,” he teased.

  “Really?” She just laughed. “Were he and Mr. Matthews both in Iraq?”

  “They were. Butch was his sergeant. They got into a firefight with insurgents and Butch was badly wounded. Parker dodged through a hail of gunfire to get to him, threw him over his shoulder, and dodged back behind our own lines. He was hit twice before he got there.”