The Cowboy Code (2 page)

What on earth was Judge Cunningham thinking?

Danny halfheartedly shook hands with them all, but he wasn't smiling. Right now he seemed younger than his thirteen years. His long, narrow face sprinkled with freckles made him look about ten years old. He was thin, bordering on skinny, but his fierce blue eyes were the windows to his soul. And right now, his soul wasn't happy.

Maggie gave the bunkhouse a quick glance. The walls were just plywood, and there was nothing to give the big room color other than a calendar with a green tractor urging insurance in case of ranch accidents.

A long, beat-up table sported coffee-ring stains, an array of assorted mugs and lots of dig marks, no
doubt made by the men's spurs when they put their feet up on the table.

A fairly new galley kitchen ran half the length of the room, but what she noticed the most was the monstrous coffeemaker on a round table by the stove. In fact, the whole place smelled of coffee.

“Danny, you're the first participant to arrive. The others will be here any time now,” Ronnie stated. “You get to pick your bunk.”

“I don't care,” Danny said, but Maggie noticed that he looked around and drifted toward one of the metal cots by a window.

He's probably planning his escape route,
she thought.

The bunkhouse was certainly a few stories down from their apartment in SoHo. And here Danny didn't have his own bedroom.

Joe held out his hand to shake Danny's. “I'll see you later for grub. Make up your bunk and get settled in, and I'll escort your aunt to the main house. When the others arrive, the boys will show you all around the ranch.”

Danny shook Joe's hand but didn't meet his gaze, looking at the floor. Maggie tried to swallow the lump in her throat, saddened that Danny would freeze out the man who was his best shot at a fresh start.

She willed herself to believe that coming here had been a good idea.

As she followed Joe up the hill to the house, Maggie noticed that the rambling stone and log structure somehow fit perfectly into the landscape. A snow-capped mountain range and a copse of conifers peeked over the roof, completing the picture.

Maggie stared in awe. “What a breathtaking house. I can't wait to see inside.”

There was still a fairly steep climb on a landscaped brick walkway to get to the front door.

Joe smiled. “My father built it for my mother when they were first married. She's Lakota Sioux, and he constructed the house with twelve beams, just like the Lakota teepee was constructed with twelve poles. And the door faces east, which represents the rising sun and a new day.”

She'd been right. He
was
part Native American.

She stole a glance at Joe. Effortlessly carrying her heavy suitcase and tote bag, he wasn't even breathing hard. Every arm muscle bulged under his shirt. His thighs looked rock-hard under his jeans.

His physical appearance made her heart pump faster, but there was so much more to Joe. He seemed to have a quiet dignity and an almost inner peace about him, as if he knew the secret of keeping centered. She hoped he'd share his secret with Danny, and her, too.

Maybe Danny was right to worry. She
was
interested in Joe.

But she wasn't interested in him in a romantic
way. He intrigued her, probably because he was just so different from the men she knew. That didn't mean that they were going to start something, like Danny seemed to think.

Not when her main concern was her nephew and getting him through Cowboy Quest.

She might as well add herself to that. She had to get through Cowboy Quest, too, and she didn't know the first thing about riding a horse or going on a cattle drive.

But one thing she did know was that she was going to do her best and then maybe, just maybe, she and Danny would become a closer, happier and stronger family.

J
oe felt the burn in his muscles from carrying Maggie's suitcases up the hill to his house.

Good. It took his mind off her—a little.

She was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her hair shimmered like spun gold in the afternoon sun, and her green eyes were bright and sparkly. Even if he hadn't already known from reading the probation department's report, he could tell she was a dancer by the way she moved—graceful and light on her feet. She almost floated when she walked.

She didn't seem to be the type who could handle mucking out stalls, grooming horses or several days on a cattle drive.

He opened the door to let her in. “Make yourself at home. My Aunt Betty is usually here in the office doing the record keeping and running my life, not necessarily in that order, but she's visiting her sister in Tucson for a couple of months. So the place is all yours.”

“I can't imagine having this whole house to myself. This is magnificent, Joe. My apartment in New York can fit into it about forty times!” Her excitement faded. “But if I wasn't here, you could have stayed in your home instead of at the bunkhouse.”

“No, I always bunk with the kids during Cowboy Quest. So make yourself at home.”

The only other woman who had ever stayed at his ranch was Ellen Rogers. Ellen had stolen his heart when she kissed him on the playground in fourth grade, after he'd stopped some boys from teasing her.

That was about the time he learned that he didn't have to start swinging his fists to get his point across. His size alone—even in grade school—made him seem formidable.

They'd become lifelong friends after that. Inseparable. Her parents had the neighboring ranch, about twenty miles away, and their spread was almost as big as the Silver River.

He'd asked Ellen to marry him when they graduated from college, and she'd agreed—but she didn't seem as excited as he'd expected. Then she broke
up with him four months later and moved to Los Angeles, where she'd taken a job with a software company. He couldn't remember the details; all he heard was her voice saying, “I'm sorry, Joe. But I don't want to live on a ranch. I want more.”

He still wondered if she'd ever truly loved him. If she had, then they could have worked something out. But instead, she'd picked concrete, high-rises and crowds over his Silver River Ranch.

And all his dreams went up in smoke.

He'd built up the Silver River Ranch in the hope he'd have a wife and kids to share it with, but obviously that wasn't in the cards. At least the ranch was solid and dependable. Women were flighty and fickle—and he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

A crash brought him back to reality. It was Maggie, scared by Calico, his aunt's cat.

Luckily, it was only a suitcase that she had kicked over—it had hit the wooden floor with a solid smack. As Maggie scrambled to right it, he noticed that her hands were shaking.

She was nervous, and he didn't think that it was just the cat.

Was it
him?
Or the situation?

“Maggie, have you ever been on a ranch before?” he asked.

“No.”

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“No.”

“Are you scared to ride?” he asked. “Or just nervous?”

“A little of both.” She bit her lip—the simple gesture made his blood heat for some reason.

“Okay, I'm
a lot
scared and a lot nervous. I'm scared of losing Danny to the system. I'm scared of the whole cattle drive. But mostly, I'm scared that Cowboy Quest won't be enough to help us fix what's broken.”

Joe wanted to take Maggie's hand and assure her that everything would be okay, that Cowboy Quest was all about improving communication skills and team building, but he didn't dare touch her. Nor did he want to tell her that, from what he'd read, Maggie and Danny simply needed time together.

If she hadn't already figured that out, she would.

“Please don't worry, Maggie. Believe me, all your concerns will be addressed. If not, just come to me.”

She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “Thank you. That makes me feel much better. And I'll come to you for any help I may need. I really want to make the most out of your program.”

“Perfect. That's just what I want to hear.”

Then it dawned on him.

Since she was the first adult that he had in his program, and a woman at that, he'd have to make
some concessions for her, like separate facilities and her own tent for the cattle drive. But he couldn't afford to make too many allowances for her lack of experience when he had a lot to accomplish before the cattle drive started.

Joe also knew that Maggie wasn't likely to confide in him too much. But he was sympathetic to Maggie's problems with Danny. He knew what was at stake for them both, and she had a darn good reason to worry.

Adding that to the fact that she needed to complete Cowboy Quest with Danny—and learn to ride, apparently—he definitely could empathize with what she was going through.

He'd do everything possible to help her.

He felt like he already knew her—at least, Maggie the performer. He knew she'd won a Tony award and had appeared in numerous musicals and even on TV.

He also knew things had been going fine with Danny up until his mother's death two years ago. Then Danny started running with a bad bunch of kids. The probation officer who investigated the situation felt that Maggie's rehearsal and performance schedule left Danny alone much too often, and that he needed more supervision.

On one of those nights when he'd snuck out of the apartment, Danny had been arrested.

In a phone call from his old college buddy, Judge
Pat Cunningham in New York City, Joe had learned that Maggie had to give up rehearsals for a new show in order to participate in Cowboy Quest. Pat felt bad about that, but knew that it was important for Maggie to spend time with Danny, to bond and rebuild the stable home environment he so desperately needed.

Her intentions were admirable, but Joe hoped that it wasn't too late. Why had she let things come to this?

“Look at all this counter space,” Maggie said, running her hand along the emerald-green granite. “I never have much time to cook, but I love it. I tape all the cooking shows and try different recipes whenever I can.”

Maggie suddenly froze in place, then slowly turned to him. “Whoa. Am I supposed to cook for everyone in the program?”

He stifled a smile. “Well, you said you liked to cook.”

When her eyebrows shot up in shock, he chuckled. “I was just kidding. The ranch has a cook, and he always loves the challenge of a dozen more mouths to feed—a baker's dozen, counting you.”

“Joe, am I the only parent or guardian who's participating?”

“Yes.”

She looked like she was about to hit the panic button. “Just me?”

“We have other counseling components for family members set up post-Cowboy Quest, but you are it as far as an adult and as a female who's going to actually join the cattle drive.” He grinned. “Twelve teenage boys, six cowboy counselors and you.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Why am I the only one?”

“Judge Cunningham asked me to make an exception for you, so I did. Now let me show you to your room.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine.”

And it was. He could tell that Maggie appreciated the view of the mountains from the guest bedroom, the balcony off the room with several lawn chairs and a table, the big log bed and the brightly striped Hudson's Bay blankets that he'd acquired over the years.

There were several items handed down from his grandparents—his mother's parents—that impressed her. He'd carefully preserved them in shadow boxes that he'd made and displayed them throughout the house.

His grandmother's baskets and several pieces of clothing with her original beadwork, medicine bags—none of it escaped Maggie's attention.

“And these photographs…fabulous.” She seemed to be talking to herself, then she turned to him. “Who is the photographer?”

“My dad. My mother is a travel reporter, and my father was a rancher and a stock contractor. I learned the business from him. But on the day I graduated from college, he drove up the driveway with a mammoth motor home, handed me the keys to this house and said that all five thousand acres were mine—and he was going to see the world with my mom.”

“Five thousand acres?” Her eyes grew wide. “He just walked away from all of this?”

“After I tried to talk him out of it, he confessed that he liked being on the road and seeing the world with my mother, that he'd grown tired of the ranch. And of course my mother was thrilled.”

He'd thought three people loved the ranch as much as he did—Ellen and his parents.

Damn, had he been wrong!

And what was wrong with his judgment of people?

The ranch meant everything to him. It was the reason he woke up every morning and the reason he went to bed exhausted each night. He knew every blade of grass, every animal and every tree on the property. It was his life's blood.

Someone like Maggie could never understand that, so he wouldn't even try explaining it to her.

“I'll let you get settled then,” Joe said, then eyed her fancy blouse, slacks and strappy shoes. “I hope
you brought some work clothes. If you'd like to change into something warmer, I'll give you a quick tour of the ranch before the sun sets.”

“I'd like that.”

“I'll wait for you in the living room.”

He settled into his favorite overstuffed chair and prepared to wait a long while for Miss Broadway, but to his surprise she appeared just a handful of minutes later. Obviously she was used to quick costume changes.

And change she had. Her dark blue jeans fit her snugly in all the right places. A pastel plaid blouse and a sparkly belt topped off her outfit, and it looked like she had on brand-new black cowboy boots.

He gave a long whistle. “You look like you're ready to go out on the town. You're dressed a little too fancy for Cowboy Quest.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “My whole wardrobe is like this. I bought out Bloomingdale's.”

“Maybe you could go shopping.”

“There are department stores here?”

“Sure. The Mountain Springs Feed and Sundries has a whole bunch of clothes next to the fertilizer and tractor parts.” He winked.

She laughed. “Let's go.”

“You think I'm kidding?”

“I hope you are.” She picked up Calico and rubbed his ears. The cat snuggled up against her neck, pushing and rubbing her head against Maggie.
The pure pleasure on Maggie's face tugged at his heart, yet it troubled him to see the sadness in her eyes.

“We'll get to be good friends, Calico. Won't we?” she asked.

Calico purred his agreement.

“I've always wanted a pet,” she said. “But my schedule just doesn't…” She scratched the cat's ears. “I can't even take care of Danny.”

“Yes, you can,” Joe said. “Don't be so hard on yourself. You've both been through a terrible loss—it takes time to adjust.”

The lost look in her eyes made him want to take her into his arms, but Joe forced himself to get back to business.

“We'll use the golf cart and follow the Silver River,” Joe said.

“Sounds good to me.”

A few minutes later, when she settled in next to him in the golf cart, he caught the scent of some floral perfume that suited her perfectly. The light breeze tossed her blond hair around her face, and he liked it when it brushed his shoulder. Too soon, she restrained it with some kind of clip.

He reminded himself again that this was business, not pleasure and that thinking about her perfume and hair wasn't appropriate.

To make matters worse, the ground wasn't level here—it was a jarring ride. Maggie kept bumping
into him, not that he minded, and every now and then she'd shoot him an embarrassed glance.

Joe pulled up alongside of the river and drove slower. “Do you have any questions about the program?”

She looked straight ahead and he heard her inhale. “My only priority is making sure that Danny is okay. The other thing I need to do is to help him satisfactorily complete your program or he's headed for placement in a juvenile facility, and I don't want that.” She took a deep breath, and bit down on her bottom lip. “And I'm supposed to come up with some kind of plan for better supervision of Danny when we get back home and a way to spend more time with him. That'll be a challenge. If I could have found a better plan, I would have instituted it.”

That lost look crept into her eyes again. “You'll come up with something, Maggie. Maybe I can help.”

Joe knew that he had been given a lot of power over her and her relationship with Danny, and if he were Maggie, he wouldn't like it either.

“It's going to be hard trusting anyone with Danny,” she continued. “You see, I've had custody of him for the past two years. You've known him for—what?—twelve seconds?”

“I understand your concern. I do. But Cowboy Quest met with one hundred percent success the first time. This is our second run.”

“Define success,” she said, suddenly cooler.

“On paper, I'd say success would be all the boys completing all the requirements. But what I'd really want would be for them to use the components of it—the practical and character lessons—for a lifetime.”

She crossed her fingers. “I really hope that happens.”

“Me, too.”

“I read in your pamphlet that you have a master's degree in special education,” she said.

“With a minor in psychology.”

She folded her arms in front of her. “And those cowboys in the bunkhouse? What are their credentials?”

“Believe it or not, a couple of them have graduate degrees, most have bachelor degrees, but more importantly, they are good men and good role models. And they care about each and every kid.”