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Looking down, Val studied his long, muscular legs. “Most wranglers I’ve met have bowed legs, from all the riding they do. You don’t.”
“I only got here a few months ago.” Griff realized this interview wasn’t going well. “I worked at my brother’s ranch. I did a lot of riding, moving cattle, roping and branding there.” He gave her a slight grin and pointed to his legs. “I haven’t had enough saddle time to bow them properly—yet.”
“Do you have your own horse?”
“No, I don’t. I rent a room at the MacMurray house on the west side of town and there’s no room there to own a dog or cat, much less a horse.”
“Andy said you just came from back east?”
The question was hurled like a gauntlet at him. Griff didn’t lose his slight smile. “New York City. Yes, I’m a city slicker, Miss Val.” He saw surprise in her expression. A faint blush fanned across her cheeks and her freckles momentarily darkened.
“Andy said you were a good worker.” She ignored his humor.
He glanced at the barn over his shoulder and hooked his thumb in the same direction. “I work six a.m. to three p.m. daily. I haul hay, feed and other items to the trucks.”
“And what do you do when you get off work?” It was a personal question, but Val’s curiosity got the better of her.
“I take odd jobs with any rancher that needs a little extra muscle or a mechanic.”
Val knew it spoke of his work ethic and she nodded. “Gus wants a man who can do it all, Mr. McPherson. She’s paying ten dollars an hour and we put in twelve-hour days. Not eight. Although you’ll get paid for eight.” Val thought for sure the poor pay would make him refuse the potential job on the spot.
“My brother works from dawn to dark. I would expect the same on any ranch.”
“There’s a lot of cleanup to be done. The property has been let go for years. The barn needs a new roof. The shed not only needs a roof, but new siding, as well. I have four wooden corrals and they all need post replacement. I’ve got piles of manure that need to be shoveled into a truck and then taken to the dump. The place is in ruins.” Val drilled him with a hard look, thinking that for sure he wouldn’t want to do those jobs, which were expected of a wrangler. She was betting his Eastern upbringing would make him walk away.
“I’ve already worked at taking out posts, digging new post holes and putting in both wood and pipe fences.”
“Most of the work we need is not done on a horse,” Val warned. She just didn’t think he could do it all. Yet, he looked easygoing and completely confident as she handed him the duty list.
Shrugging, he said, “That’s what I found to be true, too. Getting to throw a leg over a horse is a real gift compared to the everyday work on the ground.”
Frowning, Val sipped her coffee. She took a step back, making sure she didn’t get too close to this cowboy. He didn’t seem to be aware of his effect on her. She’d expected with his deadly good looks, he’d be arrogant. Instead, McPherson was quiet, thoughtful and seemed to listen. Those were all qualities Val knew many men did not have. “Well, whoever we hire,” she muttered, “they’re going to be busting their butt day in and day out.”
“That’s fine,” Griff answered. “I’m looking for a long-haul kind of job.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
Hearing the disbelief in her voice, Griff wondered if Andy had told her about his past life and career. “Yes, ma’am, I am.” He looked around and added, “I was born in Wyoming and love it here. I like waking up in the morning and seeing a clear blue sky, smelling fresh air instead of gas pollution and hearing the robins singing instead of sirens and car horns blaring.” Griff turned and met her lustrous blue gaze. “I’m sure Andy told you I grew up in New York City. The truth is, I hated it. I didn’t know it then, but I do now.” Gesturing toward the sky, he added, “I like the smell of the air after a rain. In the city, all you got was a dampening down of pollution. I spent a lot of time in Central Park, looking to reconnect with nature. I prefer grass under my feet to concrete.”
Mesmerized by the wistfulness in his voice, Val gulped. “That’s all fine and dandy, Mr. McPherson, but I don’t have time to teach you the skills you’re missing. We need a man who can do it all right now.”
“I understand,” Griff said, regret in his voice. “I admit I’m not fully qualified. But maybe if you let your grandmother know that I’m a fast learner and will make up for it, she might think about hiring me?”
“I’ll tell her,” Val promised.
“Great, let me give you my cell phone number. Could you let me know what her final decision is? I’d really like the job. It sounds like it’s difficult but I like a challenge.” Griff smiled a little and drew a business card out of his pocket. When their fingers met briefly, he felt a zigzag of heat move through his hand. He saw confusion and unsureness in Val’s eyes as she hesitantly took the card. She placed it in the back pocket of her Levi’s.
“We’ll let you know shortly.” She pulled the door open and disappeared into the Horse Emporium. Andy gave her a questioning look, as she approached the counter. Lifting her hand, she thanked Andy and left. As she climbed into the ranch’s red Ford pickup truck, Val felt all the tension flow out of her. She wondered if Gus would want this greenhorn wrangler or not. Val sure didn’t. He was powerfully male and it called to her dormant femininity in a way she’d never experienced. The truth, Val realized, was that she was drawn to McPherson. Woman to man. It was raw. Untamed. And it scared the hell out of her.
CHAPTER THREE
“WHAT DID YOU think of the wrangler?” Gus asked her granddaughter as they sat together in the kitchen. “You looked concerned when you came in.”
Val sipped her coffee as she eyed Gus. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”
Mouth turning down, Gus said, “I wish that were true. If it were, I’d have seen what Buck was doing to you and my daughter out here.”
Reaching over, Val touched her grandmother’s wrinkled, brown-spotted hand. “You lived clear across the state and my mother wasn’t telling you what was really going on here at the ranch.”
“Doesn’t matter. I should have been more nosey.”
“Well,” Val replied, “that’s over.”
“It is and it isn’t,” Gus pointed out. She studied Val and pursed her lips. “Beating an animal or human makes them scared.”
Laughing, Val said, “I’m hardly the scared type, Gus.”
“We’ll see….”
Val had no way to understand her grandmother’s enigmatic statement. “Well, Andy said this man, Griff McPherson, was a good wrangler and was looking for steady work.”
Her thin silver brows rising, Gus said, “McPherson? The Tetons Ranch folks?”
“Yes, one and the same. From what Andy said, his brother Slade owns and runs the family ranch now.”
“But, Griff is here in Jackson Hole? And not working for Slade?” Wrinkling her brow, Gus muttered, “That sure don’t make common sense. Families out here stick together like glue through thick and thin. I would expect him to be working with Slade. Not at the Horse Emporium.”
Shrugging, Val said, “Andy didn’t get into specifics.” She shared with Gus her talk with the wrangler. Val left out the fact he was mouthwateringly handsome. She didn’t want her grandmother to get the wrong idea.
“Okay, so he’s not a polished-off wrangler.” Gus rubbed her chin. “But it sounds like he wants to work. And that’s the kind of spirit we need around here. He can be taught whatever he’s missing.”
“Gus, we have ten-percent unemployment in the U.S. There are a lot of people out of work and looking for anything in order to survive. He’s just one of those poor people.”
Gus considered the information. “Let me guess, you don’t want to hire him because he’s an ex-city slicker.”
“Well…yes and no. But same as you, I wonder why he’s not working with his brother.”
“Slade just got married to Dr. Jordana Lawton,” Gus informed her. “I imagine the ranch belongs to both of them now.”
“You’d think that Slade would hire his brother part-time, though, if he could. Griff said he does odd jobs for other ranchers around the county on weekends.”
“Maybe there’s bad blood between them we don’t know about. From the sounds of it, I like his work ethic. This guy is busting his hump seven days a week to make ends meet. And you know ranchers won’t put up with a lazy wrangler. They get fired real fast.”
“All except here at the Bar H.” Val saw Gus quirk her thinned lips and nod her head.
“No disagreement there. Well, what should we do?”
“I want to pass on Griff McPherson,” Val said carefully. She wrapped her hands around the mug. “There’s just so much work around here for me to do that I don’t want to take the time out to teach him what he doesn’t know.”
Gus saw her point. “Before we make any decision, ask him to come out for coffee and cookies. I’ll interview him.”
Heart sinking, Val nodded. Her grandmother had the money, not the Bar H, which meant she could have the final say if she wanted it. “He’s a city slicker, Gus.”
“Yes, but his soul was born here.” She jabbed her finger down at the floor. “He’s got Wyoming blood movin’ through his veins. I’d like to scope him out myself if you don’t mind?”
“Sure,” she agreed, finishing off her coffee. There was a lot of work to get to and Val knew every day counted before the snow started falling in early September.
“Good,” Gus said. “You call the Horse Emporium. I’d like to see McPherson tomorrow afternoon if Andy will give him a couple hours off.”
“I’ll call Andy now,” Val promised, moving into the formal dining room to use the the landline phone set on a hundred-year-old walnut sideboard.
* * *
GRIFF TRIED NOT TO FEEL anxious, but he did. Getting out of his dented blue Ford pickup, he shut the creaky door and looked up at the main ranch house on the Bar H. The day was sunny and warm, the sky clear. He had been told by Andy yesterday that he was going out for a second job interview with Gus Hunter, one of the three matriarchs in the valley. He knew Iris Mason very well and loved the straight-shooting woman who owned Elk Horn Ranch. He’d never met Gus but had heard plenty about her. She was a pistol-packing granny and had a gruff personality from what Andy had told him.
Removing his red bandanna, Griff felt his nerves. He’d taken a cleansing shower, put on his best clothes, polished his well-worn boots and made sure his Stetson was free of hay or straw. His boots sounded hollowly as he climbed the reddish-gold cedar steps. Quickly wiping his face, he retied the red bandanna around his neck. The screen door was open. Would Val be present? Griff wasn’t sure. He knew she wasn’t too enthused about him working here. Andy said Gus was the boss of the Bar H and Griff wasn’t sure if that was good or bad news.
Standing at the screen door, Griff knocked. He could see a long, gleaming hall through the screen. Val appeared from a side room and walked toward him. Instantly, Griff’s heart pounded hard to underscore seeing her once more. Her shoulder-length red hair lay like a shining cloak around her shoulders. Today, she wore a mint-green short-sleeved blouse, Levi’s and cowboy boots. Stuffed in her belt was a ragged pair of leather gloves. Clearly, she had been out working earlier.
“Hello,” he murmured as she opened the screen door.
“Come in, Mr. McPherson. Gus is in the kitchen waiting to see you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Griff said, nodding deferentially to Val as he removed his hat.
Val caught the faint scent of lime soap as he passed by her. Today, he looked spruced up and much cleaner. Her heart beat a little more quickly as she closed the screen door and gestured for him to go down the hall.
“Turn right,” she called out to him.
Griff turned and found himself in a large kitchen. At the table sat a wiry woman with short silver hair, a cane leaning against the table next to her. He smiled and walked over to the table. “Mrs. Hunter?” he asked, holding out his hand toward her. “I’m Griff McPherson. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Call me Gus, young man,” she said, and gripped his hand firmly. Feeling the calluses, she said, “My granddaughter, Val, will bring us coffee.” She gestured to a cedar chair opposite her. “Have a seat. We can chat a spell.”
“Thank you,” Griff said in a respectful tone. Gus Hunter might be small, but she was like packed dynamite ready to go off. She, like Val, wore work clothes. The lavender blouse brought out the glint in Gus’s blue eyes. Her hair was like a curly silver crown around her head.
“I made you chocolate-chip cookies,” Gus said proudly, pointing to the large plate on the table.
Heartened, Griff smiled a little. “That was mighty kind of you, ma’am.”
Snorting, Gus said, “Don’t ma’am me! Call me Gus.”
“Yes…Miss Gus,” Griff murmured, trying to curb a smile over the elder’s spunky personality. Andy had warned him Gus took no prisoners.
Val brought over the coffee and set it in front of them.
“Sit down, Val,” Gus ordered, pointing to the chair next to the wrangler.
Val took a seat next to Griff. She could see her grandmother measuring and weighing the wrangler as he poured cream into his coffee. He was tall, muscular and relaxed.
“Take a couple of cookies, too,” Gus ordered him. She pushed the plate directly in front of Griff.
“Thank you,” he said, reaching for one. “I don’t usually get home cooking and these look real good.” He bit into the cookie, filled with chocolate chips and walnuts. It melted in his mouth. Griff couldn’t speak but held up the remainder of the delicious dessert to Gus to show his appreciation.
Gus glowed. “Now, young man, this is an interview for a job as our wrangler here at the Bar H. You understand that?”
“Yes, ma—I mean, Miss Gus, I do.”
“Val told me you’re from back east.”
Griff swallowed the cookie, nodded and told her the story of how he’d wound up in New York City, as well as how he landed back in Jackson Hole.
“So, you were filthy rich and lost it all in the crash on Wall Street?” Gus surmised. She saw the sunburned wrangler’s brow dip.
“Yes, I lost everything.”
“And did your brother Slade call you and invite you back to your family ranch?”
Her questions were sharp and painful for Griff. “No, he didn’t call me. I wanted to come home because I had nowhere else to go. I thought I could stay with him and we could rebuild the Tetons Ranch together.”
“Well,” Gus said, brows knitting, “everyone in the valley knew Slade was a heartbeat away from losing his ranch. When the economy went south, he and a whole bunch of ranchers were walking the line on bank foreclosure. If it weren’t for Dr. Jordana Lawton and his horse, Thor, winning that ten grand at the endurance race, the bank would own that ranch by now.”
“I know. I helped them out during the endurance contest.” Griff finished off the cookie. Gus was firing off questions almost faster than he could answer them. Just as Andy had warned him she would….
“So how come you’re not working for your brother now?”
Moving uncomfortably, Griff said, “We got split up at six years old, Miss Gus. I was bad about staying in touch with him over the years, and I guess it took its toll. The fault was mine. I was living in a rich, wealthy city and frankly, I looked down on him and the ranch. Half the ranch is legally mine, but it was Slade whose hard work, sweat and blood kept it going. Not mine.”
“You’re honest to a fault, aren’t you?”
Griff gave her a twisted grin. “Is there any other way to be?”
“No, frankly, there isn’t. But the generations ahead think it’s okay to tell half-truths or no truth when it suits them. In my book a lie is a lie, pure and simple.”
Nodding, Griff said, “Some do, that’s true, but not all of them. I’m from the same generation you’re talking about.”
“Points scored,” she said, respect clear in her voice. She glanced over at Val, who looked worried. Gus couldn’t fathom why. So far, this gent was the real deal. “Okay, Mr. McPherson, you tell me why you think you’d be a good addition to the Bar H.”
Griff wondered if Val had shared with Gus his answer to a similar question she’d asked him. Devoting his attention to Gus, he replied, “It’s clear to me now that Wyoming is where I belong. I couldn’t help that Slade and I were split up at six and sent to different uncles to be raised. I’m grateful they were there for us. Coming home after the stock market crash, at first, I hated it. Then, every day, it seemed as though Wyoming was working a little more of her magic on me. It was scrubbing off all those city years and I was rediscovering what I really loved to do. Working with my hands gives me a satisfaction that no Wall Street job ever did. Mending a fence and making sure it’s stout and can withstand a bull makes me feel good.”
Gus saw some redness appear in the wrangler’s cheeks. He was struggling to put his feelings into words. She studied his hands. “You got work hands,” she confirmed. Holding up her own, she added, “Hands to thrust into the rich soil of Wyoming. To help things grow. There’s a feeling that comes with being one with the land. And if you weren’t born here, you couldn’t understand.”
“Right.” Griff studied the old woman’s long, thin hands. Her knuckles were slightly enlarged due to arthritis. He saw the calluses across her palms. Her nails were short and jagged. Despite her cane, it was clear nothing could stop her from working on the ranch. He liked the sturdy, straight-talking elder. Griff wondered if his mother had lived, would she have turned out to be like Gus? He wanted to think so because the elder had a backbone of steel.
“I was missing something out in New York. I had the best of everything. My aunt and uncle loved me fiercely and I loved them. In my heart—” and Griff touched his chest “—I felt an emptiness and I never understood it until I arrived back here. When I worked with Slade at the Tetons Ranch, the ache started to go away. Later, I realized I was starving for my roots. My real home.” He became serious, his voice low. “I want a job as a wrangler because I feel I can contribute. My heart is in my work, Miss Gus. It’s true, I don’t know everything about wrangling, but I’m hungry to learn.”
Nodding, Gus shot a look across the table toward Val. She looked vulnerable, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. Gus knew she hadn’t been yearning to come home the way Griff was describing. Pinching her lips, Gus swung her gaze back to Griff. “Young man, I like where you come from. It’s true, you aren’t a fully realized wrangler yet, but I feel over time it will happen. Now, I can’t give you much money. Ten dollars an hour for eight hours a day. And you know you’ll be workin’ twelve hours a day, from dawn to dusk.”
“That’s more than fair,” Griff answered, grateful. “I’ll prove my worth to you.”
