A Cowboy’s Challenge_The McGavin Brothers Read online

  “Meaning I could get pancakes this morning?”

  “Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sau—”

  “Stop.” He groaned. “You’re killing me.”

  Pete chuckled. “Wes can eat.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” She appreciated a good appetite. If people didn’t like to eat, she wouldn’t have a job, let alone a promising career.

  On the GG float ahead of them, Nicole and Bryce launched into one of their original songs, which was a treat but made conversation difficult. Ingrid smiled and waved at people she knew along the route. So did Wes and Pete, although being new in town they weren’t recognized as often as she was.

  Riding behind Wes, she had an intimate view of the back of his neck, which was slightly sunburned. His dark hair didn’t curl as much as Roxanne’s but it was just as thick and lustrous.

  She shouldn’t be noticing that, either, but she was a sucker for good hair. She’d loved running her fingers through Mark’s, especially after they’d made love. On her surprise visit to Boston three weeks ago, he’d come to the door with his hair rumpled. Then she’d discovered why.

  That memory did the trick. She stopped focusing on Wes’s hair. After Nicole and Bryce finished their number, she grabbed onto a neutral conversational topic. “This is a beautiful horse, Wes. Is he yours?”

  “He is, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he disowned me. I haven’t spent much time with him since I left for school. This is Fudge.”

  “Is he named that because he’s sweet or because of his coloring?”

  “Both. I got him when I was sixteen. Some kids get cars at that age but we all got horses.”

  “Well, he’s very handsome.” She glanced over at Pete. “So is yours.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Clifford.”

  “Like the big red dog in the kids’ book?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Clifford and Fudge. Two good names. Original and easy to remember.”

  “We get no credit for them,” Wes said. “They were already named when we got them.” He turned and flashed a grin at Pete. “I seem to remember you hated the name Clifford.”

  “Pretty much, but I wasn’t going to change it and confuse the poor guy.”

  “Well, I read that book when I was little,” Ingrid said. “And I like Clifford’s name. I like Fudge’s, too. His coat is just the right color. Who did the braiding with the ribbons?”

  “Roxanne,” Wes said.

  “Figures.”

  “She insisted on it,” Pete said. “She used to do it for fun when we were all at the Lazy S. Didn’t need an occasion. She was thrilled that Fudge and Clifford would be in the parade this morning and that we’d be riding behind the GG float.”

  Ingrid laughed. “I’ll bet she was. I keep forgetting she wasn’t here for this last year, either. It seems I’ve known her forever.”

  “She feels the same way about you and Abigail,” Wes said. “Like she has sisters, now.”

  “That’s me, too. I—” She didn’t finish as Nicole and Bryce hit the first chords of another song.

  When it ended, Wes glanced over his shoulder at her. “What else goes on at the park today besides eating?”

  “You name it. Tug of war, three-legged races, water balloon faceoff, horseshoe tournament, pie-eating contest—”

  “Your pies?”

  “Mine and Abigail’s.”

  “I’m so entering that one. What else?”

  “In the evening, there’s dancing.”

  “No fireworks?”

  “I’ve heard they used to, but ever since Zane McGavin spoke to the town council and explained the danger to eagles, they gave up fireworks for good.”

  “How are they a problem for eagles? They don’t fly at night.”

  “They will if they get scared by fireworks. They’ll abandon their nests for the season, maybe forever. If babies are in the nest, they die.”

  Pete gave a low whistle of surprise. “I had no idea.”

  “I didn’t know that, either,” Wes said. “Good for Zane. And you said there’s dancing?”

  “There was last year. The organizers set up a wooden dance floor and a bandstand. The Guzzling Grizzly hired one of their regular country groups to play and likely will again, but this year Nicole and Bryce will perform, too.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Pete said.

  “And also like it could go late,” Wes added.

  “They usually wrap up about eleven or eleven thirty. I won’t make it that long, though. I have to be up at three again tomorrow to start baking.”

  Wes chuckled. “I’ll be lucky to make it past sundown.”

  “Oh?”

  “Wes spent the night helping a foal enter the world,” Pete said. “He climbed in bed about an hour after you got up this morning. He’s running on fumes.”

  Ingrid leaned around him so she could look at his face. “Should you even be here?”

  “I’m not about to miss my first Fourth of July celebration in Eagles Nest. I’ll catch up on my sleep later.”

  “We’re almost there,” Pete said. “Tell you what. You two climb down and get in line for some breakfast. I’ll take the horses over to the trailer.”

  “Wait, that’s not fair. Let me do it since you brought them out here.”

  “Be sensible, Wes. I’ve had breakfast and a good night’s sleep. Go get yourself some chow and coffee before you fall over. You can buy me a beer later if that would ease your conscience.”

  “I’ll do that. And thanks, bro.”

  “Any time, Doc. Which reminds me. Dad wanted me to ask if there’s any chance you could come out and look at Banjo sometime soon. He’s been favoring his right foreleg. But he knows you’re busy and—”

  “Not too busy for Dad’s horse. I’ll make time tomorrow.”

  “Banjo?” Ingrid glanced at Pete. “I’m loving the names of your horses. Why Banjo?”

  “The guy that sold him to my dad said the horse was high-strung. But Dad settled him right down.”

  “I’ll bet he did.” She’d been a fan of Quinn Sawyer ever since he’d shown up at the bakery in February looking for Roxanne.

  Wes and Pete guided their horses in behind where the GG float parked and pulled them to a halt.

  “That was fun.” Ingrid let go of Wes and grabbed the saddle as she swung her leg over and slid down. “Thank you. I’m glad you suggested it.”

  “So am I.” He dismounted with the ease of a seasoned horseman. “Can I talk you into having breakfast with me as thanks for the use of your shower?”

  She hesitated for only a moment. “Sure, that would be great.” Now that they weren’t pressed together, she could put him firmly back in the brother/neighbor zone.

  “Then let’s do it.” He handed Fudge’s reins up to Pete. “Thanks, again, bro. I’m definitely buying you that beer.”

  “Never mind.” Pete grinned down at him. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

  Wes laughed. “Shoulda seen that coming.”

  “Just kidding. Nice sharing the ride with you, Ingrid.”

  “Same here, Pete.”

  “See you in a few.” Leading Fudge, he rode toward the collection of horse trailers at the far side of the park.

  Wes glanced in the direction of the food tent. “I can smell the bacon from here. Let’s make tracks.”

  “Works for me.” She fell into step beside him. “Why did Pete say he’d put this on your tab?”

  “When I was a little kid I figured he could finish every chore faster so I constantly begged him to do mine. He’d give in to shut me up, but he said it was going on my tab. I didn’t know what he meant until a couple of months went by and I found out I owed him about a million little favors.”

  “And you did them?”

  “Had to. He reminded me of what Dad kept telling us. Real cowboys, and cowgirls, for that matter, honor their debts and keep their promises. I was his slave for weeks.”


  “Cute story. Is it true?”

  “Mostly. I might have exaggerated how many favors, but I—”

  “I mean the part about how real cowboys and cowgirls are expected to act. I’ve heard people refer to a cowboy code but I thought it might be an old-fashioned idea that nobody pays attention to anymore.”

  “I can’t speak for the general population, but my dad strictly abides by it. It’s how we were raised. If you owe a debt, you pay it. If you make a promise, you keep it.”

  I always keep my promises. Mark’s blue eyes had glowed with love and sincerity. Then he’d kissed her one more time, climbed in his car, and driven away.

  “Man, that food smells great!” Wes glanced over at her. “What are you in the mood for?”

  Disoriented, she fumbled her response. “I…I’m thinking scrambled eggs and…some bacon, maybe hash browns. How about you?”

  “Everything. I might even grab two plates. By the time we make it through this line, I’ll be ravenous.” He motioned for her to go ahead of him as they approached the end of it.

  “Maybe I’ll add some pancakes, too.” She was at a celebration, after all. And she wasn’t about to let memories of Mark spoil her day.

  Chapter Three

  Something was going on with Ingrid. For a second it was like a cloud had passed over the sun and her eyes got very sad.

  If someone had asked Wes an hour ago what color they were, he would have drawn a blank. Now he could describe them. He’d never been to the Caribbean, but he’d seen pictures. Her eyes were like the blue-green water there, except for that one moment when they’d looked almost gray.

  “Hey, brother of mine!”

  He turned as Roxanne came toward him, her mane of dark hair loose around her shoulders. She’d been wearing it that way more often. Might be because she was crazy in love for the guy walking beside her. “Hey, sis! Hey, Michael!” He hugged his sister and shook hands with Michael as they got into line behind him.

  Roxanne gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “I see you talked my bestie into riding down here with you.”

  “It was fun,” Ingrid said.

  “I’m sure it was. Wes and Fudge were my means of transportation around the ranch until I turned sixteen and got Scooter.”

  “Is Scooter out at your dad’s place, now?”

  “No.” Roxanne shook her head and glanced over at Wes with a sad smile. “He’s in horsy heaven.”

  “Aw.” Ingrid’s brow puckered. “Was he old?”

  “Only eight,” Roxanne said. “Colic got him. Nasty stuff. But losing Scooter was the defining moment for Wes. That’s when he committed to becoming a vet, so something good came out of Scooter’s passing.”

  Wes rolled his eyes. “You make it sound so dramatic.”

  “It was dramatic! There you were, tears streaming down your face, and you—”

  “Tears were not streaming down my face.”

  Roxanne lifted her chin. “Were so.”

  “It was sweat.” His cheeks warmed. Little sisters. Couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” Ingrid said. “There’s nothing unmanly about crying. It shows you’re compassionate.”

  “Um, thanks.” He was so done with this discussion. He glanced at his sister. “I don’t have to ask what you’re getting for breakfast.”

  “We all know the answer to that one.” Michael slid a hand around her waist. “I think you love pancakes more than you do me.”

  “Not true.” She laughed. “But they’re super important today. We need to load up on carbs if we’re gonna win the three-legged race.”

  “Who says you’re gonna win?” Wes looked over at Ingrid. “I think we can take ‘em, don’t you?” Bold move to assume she’d agree to be his partner. Stupid move if she declined.

  She grinned. “Depends on whether you can stay awake long enough to cross the finish line.”

  Awesome. Strategy worked. “Give me enough caffeine and sugar and I’ll be a racing fool.” Then tie him to Ingrid and they might set a world’s record. He’d never run a three-legged race before, but how hard could it be?

  Bryce and Nicole walked up and got in line behind Michael.

  “Sure enjoyed the music this morning,” Wes said.

  “Thanks.” Bryce tipped his hat to Ingrid. “How’s my favorite barista?”

  “Great. You two sounded wonderful this morning. Is it hard playing while the float’s moving?”

  “It’s tricky.” Nicole pulled a hair tie out of her pocket and tied back her red curls. “I hadn’t figured out how to keep my balance when we did the Memorial Day one but I was better this time. Speaking of balance, are either of you doing the three-legged race?”

  “Yep,” Ingrid said. “Wes and I are teaming up.”

  “Bryce talked me into it, too. He said it’s fun, but I’ve never done it before so I’m a little leery.”

  “I’ve never done it, either,” Wes said, “but it seems pretty straightforward.”

  Ingrid blinked. “You’ve never done it?”

  “No, but I’m a decent runner. I was the tight end on my high school football team.”

  “It’s not the same.” She gave him a quick smile. “But you’ll find that out in about an hour.”

  Roxanne peered around his shoulder. “You’ve never run a three-legged race? How did you miss out, big brother? I’ve done it a bunch of times.”

  “I’ll bet that’s when you went to summer camp.”

  “Probably, now that you say that. I went because they had crafts, but we had other stuff.”

  “I ran my first one last Fourth of July,” Michael said. “It wasn’t pretty. But at least I know what I’m up against. And I have to warn the newbies—the McGavins have a lock on this event.”

  “That’s the truth,” Bryce said. “We dominated in the twelve-and-under category when we were kids, and we’re doing the same now that we’re in the big group.”

  “And by big group,” Michael said, “he means it’s everybody else, all ages from twelve on up.”

  Wes blinked. “Seniors, too?”

  “Our seniors would be insulted if we separated them out.” Bryce grinned. “You should see Ellie Mae out there. She and Cody won it one year, despite the fact she’s a foot shorter and sixty years older than he is. They—” He paused as Nicole handed him a plate. “Tell you more after we get some food.”

  After loading their plates, they gathered at a long picnic table and Wes soaked up info as the McGavins reminisced about past events. Trevor, Bryce’s twin, joined them with his girlfriend, Olivia. Then the newlyweds, Cody and Faith, arrived with their food.

  Wes scooted closer to Ingrid to make room and Faith ended up next to him. She promptly announced that she was doing the three-legged race with Cody even if she was four months pregnant. “Because of our trip last summer, we missed all this, so I want to do everything.”

  Ellie Mae came up behind them and laid one hand on Cody’s shoulder and the other on Faith’s. “But you stole my favorite race partner.”

  Faith glanced up at her and smiled. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But rank has its privileges.”

  “I know that, honey. I just came over to see if you and Cody have said anything about the fundraiser. This is a great time to spread the word.”

  “Oh! I plumb forgot.”

  Trevor nudged back his hat. “What fundraiser?”

  “It started out as a betting pool,” Cody said. “Faith and I were having sundaes in Pills and Pop when Ellie Mae mentioned that folks were betting on whether we’d have a boy or a girl.”

  “I heard that,” Michael said. “I thought it was a joke.”

  “It was happening,” Cody said. “So we decided to take charge of it, make it a public thing. Ellie Mae’s now holding all the bets and—”

  “That makes me a bookie.” She sounded pleased about it.

  Trevor scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is sounding stranger by the minute.”

 
“We thought so, too,” Faith said. “That’s why we put a charitable twist on it. The baby’s due the middle of December, so twenty-five percent of the proceeds will go toward holiday baskets for needy families.”

  Michael nodded. “Good plan. I like it.”

  “It’s a great idea.” Wes took his wallet out of his back pocket. “And I’ve got twenty bucks that says Faith is having a girl.”

  “I’ll put my money on a baby boy.” Ingrid fished in her pocket. “Boys run in the McGavin family.”

  “But the law of averages says this one will be a girl.” Olivia slapped down a twenty. “I’m betting that Kendra gets a granddaughter. She would love that so much.”

  The noise level rose as the group called out their bets and held out money.

  “Slow down, everybody.” Ellie Mae produced a folded sheet of paper and a stub of a pencil. “I have to record all this.”

  “I’ll help.” Wes glanced up at her. “If you collect the money, I’ll keep track of the bets.”

  “Thank you, Wes.” Ellie Mae smiled at him and handed over her paper and pencil. “We need to get cracking, though. The little kids’ race just started and we’re up next.”

  “We’ll work fast.” Wes quickly wrote down the info as she called it out.

  After placing their bets, people cleared their empty plates and cups and left for the race. Eventually Wes and Ellie Mae were the only ones at the table. Ingrid had gathered up their trash and was taking it to the recycling bin.

  She returned and glanced at Wes. “We’d better get over there and put our names in, too.”

  “Yes, you should,” Ellie Mae said. “Thanks for the help, Wes.” She tucked everything into a pouch that hung from her neck. “Let’s move.” She started off at a brisk pace.

  Wes and Ingrid had to hustle to keep up with her.

  “Is it just Wes or Wesley?” Ellie Mae didn’t break stride or even look at him.

  “Wesley’s the long version but I like the short one better. It’s what my friends call me.”

  “Understood. Oh, there’s my race partner.” She waved at a gray-haired man on the far side of the field. “He’s got it into his head that racing together means I want to get frisky. But he’s not my type. See you!” She hurried off.