Buch lesen: «Her Favorite Cowboy»

For Henry and Catherine Nardi, who introduced me to the many books of Zane Grey, and for inviting us to our first annual Zane Grey West Society’s conference. The time spent at those conferences, both in your company and in the company of so many wonderful people, has truly been life-changing. Thank you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“I’ll get the bags,” Gage Remington told his grandpa Buck as he pulled into the last available parking spot. On any other occasion Gage would never drive his expensive car over gravel and dirt, but he’d spent the past thirty minutes trying his best to find parking in town and he was at his wits’ end. Gravel would have to do.

“Don’t be treating me like I’m an invalid,” Buck said, as he swung open the passenger door on the black Mercedes. “Just ’cause you ain’t seen me for the past five years, don’t mean I deteriorated into some feeble old man. There might be snow on my roof, but there’s still a fire burning inside. I can roll a dang suitcase up the sidewalk.”

“It’s your call, Grandpa. I was just offering.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

It had been a stressful drive into Durango from Albuquerque, New Mexico, the closest town with a major airport, where they’d met to drive in together. It had taken four long hours and Gage was already second-guessing his decision to spend some quality time with his grandfather.

Gage had worshiped his grandfather when he was a kid, and had spent three weeks every summer with his grandparents on their ranch just outside of Briggs, Idaho, a quirky little town that Gage had loved. It had been the single event he’d looked forward to all year long. His grandma always said they were like two peas in a pod. That Gage was simply a younger version of his gramps. Gage had loved the comparison and tried his best to imitate his gramps.

Not only had his grandfather taught him how to saddle up and ride a horse, but he would spend hours teaching him how to do a chore the proper way, how to be patient with a bucking horse, how to listen to someone’s complaint with an open heart and how to suck it up when something unfortunate happened. He shared his beliefs that the common folks had the ability to change a society for the good, that the rising tide lifted all boats, and that you never asked a cowboy to ride a horse you wouldn’t ride yourself. But the one truth Gage remembered most was how “sometimes it takes something bad to happen to a person before that person can bring out his best.”

When Gage was a kid, his grandfather’s wisdom hadn’t always meant much, but now, after everything he’d gone through in recent months, Gage wasn’t so sure his best would be good enough.

He wished he had spent more summers on the ranch, but once he’d gotten into college and later graduated, he landed a high-paying job on Wall Street. Soon after, he’d gotten married and begun moving up the corporate ladder. There wasn’t any time to visit his grandparents. Even when his sweet grandmother passed away two years ago, he hadn’t been able to make the funeral due to all his obligations, a decision that still haunted him.

He had been all set to go, even bought the plane tickets for himself and his wife, but then at the last minute his boss had offered him his weekly spot with Tricia Massey, dispensing Wall Street Wisdom to her millions of fans. His boss had had a conflicting obligation and was depending on him to step in with Ms. Massey on her TV show. Gage had talked it over with his wife and concluded it was the chance of a lifetime to take his career to the next level, so he simply couldn’t pass it up.

His grandfather never quite forgave him.

Now Gage was trying his best to rekindle that shredded bond and make it up to him. So far, it didn’t seem to be working. Ever since his grandma had passed, his grandfather had turned into a recluse with attitude. Gage knew this trip would be difficult.

He never imagined it would be impossible.

Gage slipped out of the car, and popped open the trunk. Before he could say another word Buck had pulled out his suitcase, tugged up the handle and was headed for the Strater Hotel a block away, leaving Gage in his dust...literally.

Not only were his black jeans now covered in white powder, but a pickup truck had sped through the lot, shooting up stones and dust that now covered Gage from head to toe. Even his new cowboy hat, which he’d carefully placed on top of the suitcases in the trunk, showed a fine sprinkling of white.

“You go on ahead, Gramps. I’ll be right behind you,” Gage yelled to the spunky older man who had somehow managed to get to the sidewalk before the pickup had roared through the lot.

His grandfather never turned around or acknowledged Gage. He just kept walking toward the hotel.

“Fine,” Gage mumbled to himself, then slammed the trunk closed without taking out his bags. No way did he want to go up to the room with Gramps to get settled in. “Oh, yeah, this was a good idea. What the heck was I thinking?”

He locked the doors and headed down the street, some twenty-five feet behind his grandfather, grateful they were no longer stuck together in the car. For the past four hours they’d barely spoken, and when they had, Gramps disagreed with just about everything, even the type of gas Gage should use in his own car.

What he needed now was some time away from him at a bar—preferably a crowded bar—to make him forget that he was spending the next two weeks with the man.

In the same hotel.

In the same room.

Attending the same convention.

Thankfully the convention only lasted a few days. After that, instead of “seeing the sights,” they could each return home if they so chose. And if Gage had anything to say about it, they would leave tonight.

Gage walked toward the Strater Hotel, which happened to be located in the historic section of downtown Durango, Colorado. Fortunately, right there on the bottom floor of the grand old red Victorian brick hotel and seemingly not connected to the lobby where his grandfather was no doubt dutifully checking in, was a noisy old-time saloon named The Diamond Belle.

As soon as Gage approached the entrance, the sound of honky-tonk piano filled his ears. He opened the screen door to discover a large crowded room with agreeable-looking people enjoying a late afternoon fermented beverage.

Gage had stopped drinking alcohol six months ago, right after his wife had asked him for a divorce. He still longed to partake, but knew he would merely enjoy the atmosphere of a tavern and save the hard liquor for some other time.

The mix of familiar sounds and smells put a smile on Gage’s otherwise weary face as he entered the colorful old-time room.

He immediately made his way to the one open spot at the impressive oak bar and ordered a tall glass of soda water with three limes from a male bartender who looked a lot like he’d just stepped out of a Western movie.

“Been a long day?” a woman with raven hair that curled down her back sitting on the barstool next to him asked.

“Way too long,” he said without really looking at her. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for small talk.

The bartender delivered his drink and Gage guzzled half of it down.

“Well, at least it’s over,” the woman told him, her voice low and sexy.

He placed the glass down on the cocktail napkin and turned to face her, thinking he’d find a way to brush her off and move on down the crowded bar to a better spot where he wouldn’t be required to speak.

As soon as he saw her face, his stomach tensed and he knew his ability to ignore her would be difficult. Not only was she beautiful, with that silky hair caressing her lovely face and those amazing gray eyes staring up at him, but she had a smile that changed his mind about walking away.

Instead, he said, “Actually, it’s only just begun.”

“Something you still have to do?”

“Two weeks’ worth of somethings.”

“Ouch! That’s a long time to be miserable.”

He needed some sympathy at the moment, and this goddess in blue jeans seemed to be saying all the right words.

“Might be, but for now, sitting here talking to you, I’m feeling a whole lot better.”

He hoped she would stick around for a while, at least until he finished his soda. She was easy on the eyes, and after staring at his grandfather’s sourpuss face for the past several hours Gage could feel his disposition changing for the better.

“Glad I could help,” she said, her voice enticing enough to make him imagine things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Especially since he’d made a promise to himself to steer clear of women until he figured out what the heck he wanted to do with his life now that his divorce was officially final.

It had been one of those messy divorces and had caught him completely off guard. They had been talking about having a baby and buying a bigger place when his wife of four years had sprung it on him during a dinner party at her parents’ house. She confessed that she had fallen out of love with him and “didn’t like who he’d become,” as her dad plated the pot roast. Her two older brothers and their wives were seated around the table as she made clear her intentions. His wife had never liked to do anything major without her family present, and announcing that she wanted to jettison her marriage had apparently been one of those major moments.

Needless to say, the dinner hadn’t gone well after that, at which her mom had literally cried, not because of the pending divorce, but because she had worked all day in the kitchen preparing the perfect pot roast and a seven-layer cake that was “to die for.”

The memory of that dinner party still stung as Gage watched the woman on the bar stool next to him flip her silky hair over a shoulder and blink those steel-gray eyes, as a warm smile creased her seductive red lips.

Oh, yeah, she was way too easy on the eyes.

He drank down more of his soda and once again thought about moving to another spot. And once again she changed his mind.

“You have no idea.”

“How so?”

He wanted to tell her all about his recent divorce and his voluntary extended leave from his lucrative nine-to-five to go on some misguided nostalgic trip with his grandfather in order to reconnect with his youth. But getting into the details of his sordid life was not something he had ever enjoyed doing.

Instead, Gage switched his thoughts back to his grandfather. “I’m thinking the relationship might improve if I try a little harder.”

“By ‘relationship,’ are you talking about a relationship with a woman?”

Gage shook his head. “No. I’m through with women for a while.” He sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “What I mean to say is, my main focus at the moment is on rebuilding a relationship with my grandfather.”

She took a sip of her red wine, and he noticed her dark red manicured nails. They screamed city girl.

“I take it that’s not working out either.”

He shook his head. “Not really. He hates me, and I’m beginning to think he has just cause. I haven’t been a very good grandson lately.”

“How so?”

Gage stared into those big eyes of hers. “You cut right to the chase, don’t you?”

“Only because you seem to want to talk about it.”

He hesitated. Baring his soul had never been easy for him and he wasn’t about to start stripping for a stranger, albeit a beautiful, intuitive stranger.

“Maybe some other time.”

“So you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Not really. No.”

She smiled. “I’d ask you if there was any way I could help, but under the circumstances, you may get the wrong idea.”

He chuckled. “What, you mean because you’re sitting on a bar stool, and you’re offering me comfort?”

“Exactly.”

He leaned into the bar and turned toward her, a smirk on his face. “Okay, if it’s not that kind of comfort then tell me what you’re offering?

“A shoulder to cry on. Sometimes it helps to vent. No judgment or advice involved.”

He gazed at her shoulders covered in the crisp white cotton shirt that hugged her petite body, black hair tumbling down the front of her, hiding full breasts, and a delicate gold necklace fastened around her neck sporting a rather large square-cut ruby. He wondered if the ruby had been a gift or if she’d bought it for herself. Either way, it told him she liked the finer things in life. It was a trait his ex-wife lived for and had kept him addicted to, making more and more money for the entire four years they were married.

“I wouldn’t want to get those pretty shoulders of yours all wet,” he told her.

“It’s a warm day. A little moisture might cool things off a bit.”

“Are you always this friendly to strangers, or am I the exception?”

“You have kind eyes. Makes me think you’re a good man.”

“Not very. People I love seem to end up hating me.”

“Hate’s a strong word.” She sipped her wine. “You’re too charming for anyone to hate you.”

A great big grin captured her face and he about melted. The woman was all allure and style...too bad he wasn’t interested. This trip was about his finding his soul again, rekindling a relationship with his grandfather, going back to his roots, remaining sober and deciding what he really wanted out of life. Those were the important things.

It most certainly was not about hooking up with a captivating woman he’d met in a bar.

“You don’t know me. I could be a terrible person.”

“A little misguided perhaps, but definitely not terrible.”

“How can you be so sure?

“It’s right there in your eyes. Besides, I’m a good judge of character.”

Gage turned his back to the bar, to get a better look at his judge in cowgirl boots. “And what kind of character do you see in me?”

“It’s your demeanor, and the fact that you’re covered in dust. I’d say you just parked in the dirt parking lot behind this hotel. You seem a bit shaky, so I’m going to guess you’re coming off a long drive with your grandfather. And, for some reason, you and he have a strained relationship that you’re trying to mend, thus the sparkling water and not a beer or something stronger to hamper your reactions. That makes you a stand-up kind of guy.”

Gage was stunned. “What are you, some kind of psychic or something?”

She laughed. “Not exactly, I just went through almost the same experience with my grandmother. Note the dust on my boots.”

She held out her leg, and sure enough her brown cowgirl boots were covered in a thin coating of white dust.

She said, “I take it you and your grandfather are here for the Zane Grey convention?”

He knocked off the rest of his soda and asked the bartender for another. “We sure are.”

“First time?”

“Yep. Been hearing about this convention for more years than I can remember. Read most every book the man ever wrote. Had to. Gramps wouldn’t let me ride Smokey, my favorite horse, if I didn’t read at least four chapters every day during the summers I visited him. Those were some of the best times of my childhood.”

“Same here, only it wasn’t for a ride on a horse. My grandma made the absolute best cakes and cookies in the entire world, and she wouldn’t teach me how to make them unless I could discuss one of Zane’s books while we baked. My mom and I would visit her every summer for an entire month. Some of my best memories are tied up with that woman.” She held out her hand. “Cori Parker. And you are?”

He took her hand in his, and at once he felt a burning heat slip through his body. He quickly let go.

“Gage Remington, grandson to Buck Remington, a cantankerous old cowboy who is up in our room right now, undoubtedly charting out how to make my life a living hell for the next two weeks...which I fully deserve.”

She snickered. “I’m sure that’s not the case. If he’s anything like my grandmother, Miss May Meriwether, he’s too busy reacquainting himself with friends.”

Cori nodded toward a group of older folks sitting around a couple of small tables in the corner, obviously enjoying themselves. Their laughter permeated the entire saloon.

Unfortunately for Gage, his grandfather was not one of them.

Cori continued. “She’s the petite lady, wearing jeans and a blue shirt. She’s the only one with brown hair. Gram turns seventy-five next week, but she’s fighting it as long as she can.”

“My grandfather was like that. Always took care of himself, but ever since my grandmother passed, he’s been nothing but...”

An older, slim man wearing a black cowboy hat rushed into the saloon from the open back door and yelled, “Is anyone in here a nurse or a doctor?”

The music stopped as the room took on a sudden eerie silence. Everyone collectively waited for someone to respond to the frantic question.

A few awkward seconds passed.

Then Gage watched as Cori slid off her barstool, grabbed her oversize purse, and said, “I’m a doctor.”

The man told her to follow him, which she did, as she reached out for Gage’s hand. He reluctantly took it and followed close behind.

“You’re a doctor?” Gage asked her as they made their way out of the tavern area. He never would have guessed. He always thought of doctors as older, wiser-looking people. Not someone he could meet in a bar, and especially not someone who looked and sounded like Cori Parker, with her sultry voice, tight jeans, boots and manicured fingernails. She simply didn’t fit the type, but then, what did he know of types? He hadn’t looked up from achieving his financial goals in way too many years.

“Yes,” she said. “And I need you as my assistant.”

“But I don’t know the first thing about...”

“Just follow my lead and you’ll do fine.”

She squeezed his hand tighter as if she was depending on him for strength. He quickly took up the cause, gaining confidence with each step, and followed her through the back of the saloon, which led directly into the lobby of the Strater Hotel.

As he and Cori came around the corner, past the wooden staircase and into the main lobby decorated with crystal chandeliers, wallpapered walls, antique walnut furniture and ornate woodwork, he spotted the man lying on the plush, carpeted floor in the center of a small group of people who knelt around him.

Gage’s heart raced as he let go of Cori’s hand and hurried toward the group.

“It’s my grandfather,” he told Cori, his voice cracking.

* * *

“I DON’T KNOW what happened,” the young man told Cori as he crouched next to the older man lying on the floor. “One minute he was standing in front of my desk getting his room key, and the next he was on the floor.”

A small group of older folks had gathered around the gray-haired man lying on the floor. Cori immediately focused on the color of the man’s skin, which looked normal, plus his eyes were open and he wasn’t clutching his chest.

All good signs.

“Oh, Gramps,” Gage whispered as he dropped to the floor next to the fallen man. Then he smoothed out his grandpa’s hair, which seemed to relax them both.

As soon as his grandfather heard Gage’s voice he turned toward him. “What? How did I ever get on the floor?” He sounded shaky, deliberate, as if he was trying to control internal tremors. Cori knew these symptoms well, but she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. It was always difficult coming into a situation like she now found herself. She longed for a patient who filled out a medical history. Just once she’d like to know what that was like. Even though she had worked in a low trauma hospital in Manhattan as an ER physician, her experience with a detailed medical history for any of her patients had been a rare luxury, rather than the norm.

“Do you know if he’s suffering from any blood sugar problems?” Cori asked Gage as she clocked the man’s pulse. She could feel his tremors as she held on to his wrist. He also seemed anxious and nervous, but that could be from what had to be an embarrassing situation.

Gage hesitated as Cori looked to him for an easy answer. His grandfather was breathing too fast, which would only make him dizzy.

“I don’t know.”

“He’s your grandfather. Do you know anything about his health?”

“No. Not really.”

His statements took her by surprise, especially since he’d claimed to want to spend time with his grandfather. Cori knew everything about her grandmother, down to what vitamins she took and what she ate for breakfast. But then, Cori had always shared a special relationship with her gram, and felt closer to her than she did to her own parents.

“What’s his name?”

“Buck, Buck Remington.”

Cori directed her full attention to the patient. “Mr. Remington, I’d like you to take some deep, slow breaths to calm yourself. Can you do that for me? I’ll lead the way?”

Buck nodded, as they each slowly sucked in air through their mouths. “Now let it out through your nose,” she told him, and he dutifully followed her lead.

Once she had him breathing normally, his pulse slowed to a more acceptable pace. An older woman with pure white, shoulder-length hair and deep red lips leaned over and handed Gage her pink sweater. “Maybe you can put this under his head. That floor’s hard.”

“Thanks,” Gage told her, while Cori threw the generous woman a quick smile.

Gage looked to Cori for approval. She nodded, then he carefully lifted Buck’s head and rested it on the folded sweater.

“Have you been diagnosed with hypoglycemia, Mr. Remington?”

He nodded again. His pulse quickened and sweat beaded on his forehead.

She looked up at Gage. “He needs glucose. Could you get him a glass of orange juice from the bar?”

“Sure.” Gage jumped up and rushed back to the tavern.

“I caught him as he went down,” a tall, lean gentleman, probably in his late sixties or early seventies and wearing a cream-colored cowboy hat offered. “He didn’t hit anything but my chest, so nothing should be broken. Court’s the name. Steve Court. Been Buck’s friend for the past ten years or so. Never know’d him to drop like that. Glad I was close by to break his fall.”

“You did perfect,” she told the man, then directed her attention back to Mr. Remington. “Can you sit up?”

He nodded and she motioned for Mr. Court to please help her.

She cradled his head and shoulder with one arm, and Mr. Court leaned down to help put Buck upright.

Gage returned with the juice.

“Drink this, Mr. Remington. It’ll make you feel better.”

Buck did as he was told and quickly slurped up all the juice, then handed the empty glass back to Gage. “Thank you, son,” he mumbled, his hand visibly shaking.

A siren screamed in the distance.

“Don’t worry, Gramps. We’ll get you checked out at the hospital, and you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going to no dang hospital. I’m fine now. Just lost my balance is all.”

He struggled with each movement as if his limbs wouldn’t cooperate with his mind.

“Just rest for a bit, Mr. Remington. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

“Not going to no dang hospital.”

Two male EMTs walked into the lobby and came over to the group. The glow of the swirling red lights from their ambulance pulsed in through the windows and stained the walls with their fiery color.

“Gramps, stop being so obstinate. I’ll be right there with you.”

“You ain’t been with me since you was a kid. Don’t think you can tell me what to do now. I can make my own decisions.”

Cori quickly realized their relationship was in even worse shape than Gage had led her to believe.

She reached out and took Mr. Remington’s hand. “I knew a Buck when I was in medical school. He was a kind, thoughtful, easy-going man. I think those traits go along with the name. I have a feeling you probably didn’t eat a meal for a long time, and because of that, you might not be your sweet self. Your grandson only wants what’s best for you, and so do I.”

Buck nodded, staring into Cori’s eyes. His demeanor changed and Cori could see the tension drain from his body. He relaxed his shoulders, and gently squeezed her hand.

Cori worked on instinct and purposely stopped herself from thinking about what she was doing or saying despite the fact that she had started second-guessing herself a few months back.

Her self-doubt and stress had caused her to walk away from her ER position at Manhattan Central Hospital for some much-needed rest and reassessment. She’d been chronically fatigued for weeks from lack of sleep. And after nearly running off the road with her nine-year-old daughter Hailey in the car on their way home from another school event that Cori had all but missed, she knew her life had to change.

Those changes began with her turning in her resignation.

Up until that moment, Cori had thought she could do it all. Now she wasn’t so sure she could do anything right, and that included diagnosing hypoglycemia in an elderly man with the appropriate symptoms.

She gazed at her patient and saw all the fear and loneliness in his light blue eyes.

He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her, as if he was trying to place where he’d seen her before, but Cori knew that wasn’t possible.