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The Cowgirl's Man
Ruth Jean Dale
BEAUTYOf course, Niki Keene had followed her sisters 1 to Hard Knox, Texas–the Keene triplets wereinseparable. And yes, she helped run their fledgling dude ranch. But when the townsfolk entered her in the Queen of the Cowgirls contest, she had to laugh. How could you be Queen of the Cowgirls when you were terrified of horses? Besides, she was sick to death of being "the beautiful one."AND THE BESTShe wasn't laughing when hotshot cowboy Clay Russell launched an all-out campaign to change her mind. He was so sexy and so persuasive, she figured she was doomed one way or the other. It was either ride and rope–or lose the only man who'd ever made her glad
“Could you use a little help, darlin’?”
Clay spoke softly in Niki’s ear, but she still jumped as if he’d grabbed her. “I wish you’d quit sneaking up on me that way!”
She gave him an annoyed glance, but she still looked beautiful. A long wisp of hair blew across her mouth and she started to push it aside.
“Let me do that.” Slowly he smoothed the silky lock back behind her ear. As his fingers skimmed the corner of her mouth, his body leapt to throbbing readiness in an instant.
“Oh, my,” she said softly, breathlessly.
Clay let his hand fall aside, which required all of his considerable willpower. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“You asked a question?”
He laughed. “I asked if you needed any help.”
“You don’t want to do dishes.” Her voice had recovered a bit of its usual spice.
“Says who?” He shoved up the sleeves of his shirt. “You’d be astounded at what I want to do.”
Dear Reader,
And so with this book, the saga of the Keene triplets draws to a close…or does it?
I really hate to think about leaving Hard Knox, Texas. That’s the biggest problem I have with miniseries: I never want to let go. I get to know and like the characters, not just my heroes and heroines but their friends and adversaries and relatives, the town where they hang out and the homes they live in. And no matter how happy the ending, there are always loose ends left behind, characters who deserve their own happily-ever-after.
But I wonder…. Niki, Toni and Dani may only think they’re the last of the Keenes. I’ve heard rumors that their daddy, Wil Keene (the old reprobate), may have sown a few more wild oats than any of them know. It wouldn’t surprise me a lick if a tenderfoot brother turned up one of these days to claim his share of the Bar K.
Another Keene GONE TO TEXAS? I may just have to look into that one of these days.
Thanks for joining me on this trip. I’ve had fun and hope you have, too.
Sincerely,
Ruth Jean Dale
The Cowgirl’s Man
Ruth Jean Dale
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to everyone who’s ever wanted to pull up stakes and start over.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained!
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u0868b357-12a9-53b2-a2f5-bb3c2768e65b)
Chapter 2 (#u259f990b-9440-5ee9-8e75-64801982fe6a)
Chapter 3 (#u3a9e0b33-9a1f-5e98-bbea-89b20bc638c5)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
1
NIKI KEENE attracted cowboys like honey attracted bees…like catnip attracted cats…like candy attracted kids. This natural phenomenon never failed to amaze Tilly Collins, proud grandmother to the Keene triplets, among whom Niki was the youngest by a mere twenty minutes.
Not that Tilly didn’t think all three of her granddaughters were pretty special. Sitting at a wooden picnic table beneath a spreading pecan tree at the annual Hard Knox Fourth of July picnic and barbecue, she fanned herself idly while watching Niki turn aside her crowd of admirers with ease. As they said, practice makes perfect.
Back home in Elk Tooth, Montana, Niki had been labeled the “pretty one,” Toni the “nice one” and Dani the “smart one.” To their doting grandmother, each of the twenty-seven-year-old triplets was equally pretty, nice and smart. Still, she had to admit that there was a fortune to be made in bottling whatever it was that beautiful Niki had in such abundance.
It was only a passing thought, though, for like everyone else who’d turned out at the city park for the celebration, Tilly was content just to enjoy the holiday atmosphere. With all the guests at the Keenes’ Bar-K Dude Ranch present, she was free to simply enjoy herself like everybody else.
Crowds milled around, as Bar-K guests mingled with townsfolk and visitors to other Hill Country dude ranches. In the background, the amplified voice of Mayor Rosie Mitchell droned on. Mayor Rosie obviously enjoyed this part of the program, the presentation of awards and certificates and honors to what was beginning to feel like an interminable list of Hard Knoxers, as the local newspaper had long ago christened locals.
“Hi, Granny.” Dani Keene Burke sat down on the picnic bench next to Tilly. “Whew, is it ever hot!”
Tilly glanced around for Dani’s eleven-month-old daughter. “Not hot enough to make you forget what you did with Elsie, I hope.”
Dani laughed and her brown eyes sparkled. Marriage to neighboring rancher Jack Burke had done wonders for her; Tilly had never seen Dani happier.
“Jack’s got her,” she said. “He’ll be along as soon as he gets the kids a cup of lemonade.”
Tilly nodded, knowing that “kids” in the plural included Jack’s orphaned six-year-old nephew, Pete, adopted when Jack and Dani married. “Are Toni and Simon here yet?”
Dani nodded. “I saw the newlyweds drive up just a few minutes ago. They’ll be here soon.” She glanced around at the crowd. “Where’s Niki?”
Tilly pointed in the general direction. At that moment, the crowd parted and they saw Niki, still in the middle of a horde of male admirers. She was looking up with a non-committal smile at a tall cowboy.
She was gorgeous. Something about long black hair and blue eyes, Tilly supposed. Whatever it was, Niki had lots of it.
The loudspeaker sputtered and Tilly caught a single word from the mayor: Niki. Sure she’d misunderstood, Tilly glanced at Dani, who looked equally puzzled.
The mayor’s voice became stronger: “Niki Keene, please, dear, will you come up here?”
Niki glanced toward her family, shapely black brows rising in a question. Dani shrugged and Toni, just arriving, waved.
“What do they want with Nik?” she inquired. “Simon and I just got here so—”
“Come on up, now,” the mayor’s amplified voice interrupted. “Don’t be shy!”
At Mayor Rosie’s urging, Niki’s admirers lifted her to her feet and guided her toward the bandstand in the middle of the park. A sprinkling of applause built to a crescendo, despite the fact that no one appeared to know what was going on.
Tilly certainly didn’t, but whatever it was, it was bound to be good. They didn’t do bad things at community picnics in Hard Knox, Texas. So she smiled and applauded along with everybody else.
Mayor Rosie held up her arms for silence while Niki waited uneasily, casting her sometime boss dubious glances. Niki had gone to work as a barmaid at Rosie and Cleavon Mitchell’s Sorry Bastard Saloon soon after the Keenes’ move to Texas a few years back. She still worked there part-time, not because she needed the money anymore, but because she enjoyed it. Niki was a simple girl with simple needs.
“Friends and guests,” Rosie said in her deep Texas drawl, “we got us a real nice surprise today. Seems like our own Niki Keene, darlin’ of the Sorry Bastard, has been named a finalist in the Queen of the Cowgirls contest sponsored by Mother Hubbard’s Wild West Duds! And I got a certificate here to prove it!” She waved the document triumphantly aloft.
Tilly frowned and muttered, “What’s Mother Hubbard’s Wild West Duds?”
Toni chuckled. “It’s a western clothing company. In fact, it’s a favorite of Niki’s. That vest she’s wearing is a Mother Hubbard.” She glanced at Dani. “Can you believe it? Entering a contest and not even telling us, her own sisters.”
“No, I can’t believe it.” Dani shook her head firmly. “There’s something funny going on here. That contest has been publicized far and wide in magazines, even on TV. No way Niki would go for that. The winner will have to spend the next year being company spokesperson and posing for photographers. Niki would sooner walk on hot coals than do that.”
Sad but true, Tilly thought as she watched a protesting Niki shake her head vehemently. If there was one thing her beautiful granddaughter didn’t like it was being in the limelight.
Niki leaned forward to be heard via the microphone. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake, Rosie,” she said, hastily amending that to, “Mayor Rosie.”
Rosie grinned and shook her head, but her expression turned slightly desperate. “No mistake at all, Niki. That’s your name on this certificate, see?”
“Nevertheless,” Niki said in gentle but determined tones, “this is obviously some kind of a mistake. Thank you very much, but I didn’t even enter the contest.”
With a smile to soften her position, she turned away.
“Wait, Niki!” Now the mayor looked really worried. “This is no mistake, hon. Whether you entered or not, you’ve made the finals, which is a wonderful thing for your adopted hometown. Won’t you—”
“I wish I could, but it’s impossible. Thanks, but no thanks.” With a wave of her hand, Niki walked down the steps and disappeared into the crowd.
A pregnant pause ensued. Then Granny sighed. “Niki doesn’t even like horses,” she announced, her voice clear in the stunned silence. “If those folks want a cowgirl, they’ve definitely got the wrong gal!”
LURKING NEARBY, Clay Russell, World Champion All-Around Cowboy and well-paid national spokesman for Mother Hubbard’s Wild West Duds, heard every word the old lady said. Wearing subdued western garb and dark glasses, his hat pulled low over his eyes, he’d managed to avoid being recognized thus far. A desire to keep it that way was the only thing that prevented him from approaching the Mrs. Santa Claus look-alike.
Out of rodeo for the moment with an injury that had left him doubting his future, Clay was traveling from town to town and sometimes state to state at the insistence of Mother Hubbard herself—Eve Hubbard, autocratic guiding force behind the phenomenal success of the western clothing manufacturing company. His current assignment: to scope out the twelve finalists chosen from thousands of photographs generated by the contest and then report back to Eve.
Hard Knox was his final stop before heading back to Dallas to make his report. Eve not only wanted to know how each contestant looked in person, she wanted to know how Queen of the Cowgirls wannabes handled themselves when they were informed of their finalist status.
Niki Keene had failed that test, Clay thought, still idly eavesdropping on her family, joined now by two men apparently married to her sisters. All the other finalists in all the other towns had squealed and jumped up and down and hugged—in some cases kissed—everyone in sight. This one had said a firm “thanks, but no thanks” and walked away.
Obviously, she wasn’t Queen of the Cowgirls material—but she was drop-dead gorgeous. Although he’d only seen her for a few minutes, she’d formed an indelible impression in his mind’s eye—heavy black hair hanging over her shoulders in thick braids to frame a perfectly oval face dominated by high cheekbones, full red lips and eyes so deep a blue they were almost purple. Her golden skin glowed and the curves of her body were as perfect as her face.
And if he wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing Mother Hubbard’s Wild West Duds: faded form-fitting jeans and a denim vest fastened across her breasts with leather tabs. The bottom edge of the vest barely met the waistband of her jeans, giving tantalizing glimpses of a taut middle. The shadowy cleft between her breasts, shown to advantage by the deep vee of the easy-fitting vest, made promises he suspected would easily be fulfilled.
So she was good-looking. So were all the others, he reminded himself. But judging by what the little old lady had just said about horses, Niki wasn’t worthy of the title with all the perks and prizes that came with it. Too bad—but maybe there had been a mistake.
“How do you suppose this happened?” It was the sister bouncing the toddler on her lap who asked. “Niki was obviously dumfounded.”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Dani.” The other sister shrugged. “But she should go for it and grab it if she gets the chance. Tons of prizes come with that title. I know how Niki feels about exploiting her looks, but it’s not like this would be the first time. She was Miss Elk Tooth who knows how many times, and Miss Texas Barmaid and Miss Sunshine for the weather people and Miss Smile for that dental association and Miss—”
“Oh, my!” The grandmother flsung up her hands. “Don’t go any further, Dani, for heaven’s sake. She got finagled into each and every one of those titles.”
Yeah, sure, Clay thought. One title maybe, but all those? I don’t think so.
“I think she ought to do it.”
“Now why would you say that, Jack?” The grandmother inquired mildly.
The man hovering over the sister with the baby, the one who looked like a rancher, shrugged. “It’d be good for the town. We could put it in the Bar-K brochure and it would be good for business.”
“You talk like she’s already won,” the other man remarked.
Both sisters blinked in surprise and the one with the baby said, “And your point is what, Simon?”
The man Simon, who didn’t look like a rancher, a cowboy or any other country type, leaned down and kissed the top of Toni’s head. “Just because Niki’s great looking doesn’t mean this contest is a slam dunk. She isn’t the most beautiful girl in the world, after all. Toni is.”
“Simon!” Toni gave him a satisfied glance. “You’re prejudiced.”
“Newlyweds are supposed to be prejudiced,” Grandma said. “Dani, what do you think? Would Niki take it?”
“Absolutely not.” Dani, still bouncing the baby on her knee, shook her head vehemently. “After what happened the last time, she swore her Miss Whoever career was over.”
“What happened?” Simon inquired.
“The contest coordinator got fresh with her,” Dani said darkly. “They also over-scheduled her and were downright unreasonable in their demands. So no, I don’t think she’ll change her mind and I don’t suppose I can really blame her.”
Clay edged away. It was just about time for him to hit the road for Dallas to report on the total unsuitability of this particular contestant. Regardless of what her family might think, she wouldn’t be a shooin even if she competed.
“And then…” The grandmother sighed. “There’s that thing she has about horses.”
A quick glance showed Clay nothing but uniformly glum faces. What the hell was this about Niki Keene and horses, he wondered. Not that it mattered. She had too many other negatives and only one positive that he could see.
Grandmother turned suddenly brisk. “It’s not up to us anyway. Dani, I’m going back to the ranch now. If you and Jack would like to stay and help Toni and Simon herd our dudes, I’ll take the children with me.”
“Jack?” Dani deferred to her husband.
“Sounds good. We can drop by the Sorry Bastard and try to talk some sense into our stubborn beauty queen.”
