Jake (Cowboys and Debutantes Contemporary Book 1) Read online

  Jake

  Cowboys and Debutants

  Kit Morgan

  Angel Creek Press

  ANGEL CREEK PRESS

  Jake

  (Cowboys and Debutantes, Contemporary Book 1)

  by Kit Morgan

  © 2017 Kit Morgan

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher. All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or livestock are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Angel Creek Press and Agape Authors.

  Contents

  License Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Kit Morgan

  License Note

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter 1

  The Sullivan Ranch, near Sisters, Oregon

  “He did what?!” Though the voice was his, Jake Sullivan didn’t recognize it. He was that upset.

  “Jake, calm down,” his mother urged. How she could be so calm, he had no idea. She took a deep breath and faced his older brother. “Go ahead, Tate. What else does it say?”

  Tate saw the three shocked faces staring back at him around the kitchen table, took a breath and continued to read. “To Samantha Marie Sullivan, my daughter, and her children Tate Andrew Sullivan, Jacob Connor Sullivan and Jennifer Anne Sullivan: I leave the Dixie Riding Academy of Brooklyn, New York. They are to run and operate the business for a period of one year, after which they may do with the property and business as they see fit. If these conditions are not met, then any monies received from the sale of said property will go to Dixie May Lang.”

  Jake smacked a hand against his forehead and let it slide down his face. “So we inherited Nana Dixie’s riding stable in Brooklyn, but we have to run it for a year before we can sell it and get any money?”

  “I think the will’s clear enough,” his mother said. “And it was your Grandpa Joe’s business – he just named it after Nana.” She slumped in her chair, brushed a wisp of blonde hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. At fifty she still had her looks, despite the trauma of the last six years. They’d lost their father – her husband – five years before to cancer. Times had been tough ever since, and they could use the money made from selling their grandfather’s business.

  “Why would Grandpa Joe do such a thing?” Tate asked. “He knows what it’s been like since Dad died.”

  Samantha nodded, glancing at the soup pot simmering on the stove.

  Jake folded his arms. “I’m sorry, Mom – I didn’t mean to get so upset. But Tate’s right. Grandpa knew.”

  Their mother nodded again, closed her eyes and bowed her head. For a moment Jake thought she was praying. “He offered to help,” she said softly. She opened her eyes and looked at her children. “I turned him down.”

  Three sets of eyes widened. “Mom?” Jenny said. “Why didn’t you take his help if he was willing to give it?”

  Samantha shrugged as she blinked back tears. “Pride, simple as that. You know how it was between your father and Grandpa.”

  “Yes, and you should’ve left it there,” Jake said. He made a face and squeezed his eyes shut. Of the three, he was the one with the biggest mouth. It wasn’t until after he said something that he’d realize his folly.

  “I didn’t want to be dependent on him,” Samantha explained. “I had to know I could run this ranch on my own.”

  Jake studied her a moment, noticed the dark smudges under her eyes and felt a pang of guilt. “That makes sense.” He got up and put a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  She reached up and patted his hand. “I know you didn’t. These last few years have been hard on all of us. If your father were still alive, you boys would have left long ago. Maybe even started ranches of your own.”

  Tate laughed. “Not likely. Besides, Dad always wanted us to work this one.”

  “At least he got his wish,” Jake said, his eyes downcast but a slight smile on his face.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But it hasn’t been easy. And poor Jenny –”

  Jenny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t bring me into this. I’ll figure things out.”

  “But your father wanted you to finish college,” her mother said. “And so do I.”

  Jake walked over to the stove, stirred the soup a few times, then banged the spoon on the pot’s rim. “Fine. So we take care of Grandpa Joe’s little business for a year, sell it, pay for the rest of Jenny’s schooling and get the ranch out of debt.”

  “Keep the ranch out of debt, you mean,” Tate corrected.

  “No, Jake’s right,” their mother said. “We’ve incurred some debt this year and it would be nice to get rid of it before it grows.”

  Tate set the copy of the will on the table. “If we’re going to do this, then there are things we need to look at. The riding academy’s accounts, for one – what if we’ve inherited a big fat mess?”

  “He’s right,” Jenny said. “Grandpa started and kept businesses like a hobby. Who knows what shape this one’s in?” She looked at the others. “Which one of us is going to travel across the country to find out? I know I can’t.”

  Her brothers stared at her as realization sank in. Her mother, on the other hand, nodded sympathetically. “She can’t quit her jobs – we need the money. One of you boys will have to go.”

  “For a year?” Jake said in shock. “We can’t do that.” He quickly looked at Tate, who nodded in agreement. But that put them right back at square one.

  “Why don’t you split the time up and rotate?” Jenny suggested.

  “You mean I go for a while, then Tate goes?” Jake asked to clarify.

  “Exactly. That way, three of us are always here. Better three than two – especially if it’s Mom and me.”

  Tate ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “But if one of us goes, the other has to do all the ranch work by himself. Me or Jake are still going to need help.”

  “Your cousins can help,” Samantha offered. “We’ve helped them often enough over the years.”

  Indeed we have, Jake thought – every summer for as long as he could remember, until their own ranch got so big it required the family’s full attention. Besides, there was a big difference between raising cattle and raising wheat. Their Aunt Penny had married into the MacRae family in Washington, and MacRae Farms was one of the biggest producers of wheat in the Northwest.

  While he loved his cousins and loved visiting the farm, he, like the rest of his family, could only take so much of them. To have
a MacRae cousin helping out on their own ranch for months at a time sent a shiver up his spine. Best he be the sacrificial lamb. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go back east.”

  “What?” his mother said, her eyes meeting his.

  “I said I’d do it. I’m the best with numbers. I can assess their books, see what sort of shape everything’s in and report back. If I need help, I’ll send for Tate.”

  “And leave the two of us here with one of our crazy cousins?” Jenny said, aghast. She gave her mother a pleading look. “We’d have to enlist another one to take Tate’s place.”

  Jake shrugged. “It’s not like Aunt Penny hasn’t got the bodies to spare.”

  Even though that wasn’t the point, Jenny shuddered. “I could never have ten children. Never.”

  “No, and no one’s suggesting you do,” their mother agreed with a smile, “But I envy your Aunt Penny, surrounded by all those grandchildren.”

  Jake and Tate fidgeted. At twenty-six and thirty, they should’ve taken the plunge into matrimony by now, but they’d been too busy keeping the ranch afloat after their father died. Twenty-two year old Jenny hadn’t had time to date either – if she wasn’t in school and working two part-time jobs to help make ends meet, she was out of school and working three. Such was the case now.

  “I’ll call your aunt and uncle after dinner,” their mother said. “I’m sure they’ve received a copy of the will by now.”

  “I wonder what Grandpa Joe left them,” Jenny stated. “I don’t even know how many little hobby businesses he had.”

  “Six, at last count,” Tate said. “Unless he started up another one in the last couple years.”

  “Why did Nana Dixie only send us this part of the will?” Jake mused. “Why not let us see the whole thing?”

  “I’m sure she will,” his mother said. “But you know how scatterbrained she is. They all are.”

  The siblings nodded their agreement. They consisted of their Nana Dixie and her three sisters Margaret, Martha and Josephine. Margaret, the oldest, had married a banker and had several children. After he died, Great-Aunt Mags (as Jake and his siblings liked to call her) took up painting and turned her new-found love into a full-time business. She lived in Colorado, but her children, save one, were spread out across the United States. The exception had moved to Australia.

  Aunt Penny’s mother Martha was still a practicing therapist – a practicing sex therapist – even at eighty-two. Like Margaret she’d outlived her husband and moved west, to Seattle to be close to the MacRae branch. Mags had insisted Martha leave her “boisterous brood of MacRaes” and come live with her, but Martha wouldn’t hear of it. Until recently – Aunt Penny told their mother just the other night when she phoned that Martha was flying to Colorado to stay with the ailing Margaret for as long as she needed her.

  Great Auntie Jo, the youngest, had always been nervous as a cat. If Jake spent too much time with her when she came to visit, he’d get all twitchy and have to leave the room. He felt sorry for the relatives who lived near her, as they had to deal with her the most. But she too was widowed, and at seventy-two was still beautiful with a bit of money socked away. Rich old widows were attractive enough to gold-diggers, a pretty one even more so, that she never lacked for company despite her disposition.

  Now Nana Dixie had joined the ranks of widowhood, and with money to burn. Their grandpa had loved to start a business and grow it, but then he’d get bored and leave it to others to manage. What shape those businesses were now in, Jake had no idea, but he was about to find out about one of them. Who knew what Grandpa Joe had stuck the others with? Yet, all in all, Jake had to admit that Joseph Lang had done pretty good for a guy descended from a simple hog farmer out of 1800’s Baker City, Oregon.

  Good or no, his family was now saddled with a riding academy – what did any of them know about such things? Sure, the four of them knew how to ride … but Western style, checking their stock on horseback. But he’d never done any major equestrian events, never ridden with an English saddle, and never wanted to. And what were the clients like – a bunch of snotty rich kids? Were the riding instructors vetted? Was there a decent place for the kids to ride other than some dusty arena?

  Jake sighed as his family continued to discuss plans. The more he thought about it, the better a month or two spent with one of his crazy MacRae cousins looked. But he’d volunteered to assess things. He just hoped he didn’t regret it once he got there.

  Brooklyn, New York, three weeks later …

  “Casey, what are you doing?”

  Casey Lynn Woodrow handed Miss Williams the riding instructor a check. “Paying for a set of lessons.”

  Her friend Melanie Haeger openly gawked. “What?! Are you out of your mind? Your dad’s going to kill you.”

  Miss Williams, check in hand, looked worried. “Is there a problem?”

  “No,” Casey said emphatically. “When can I start?”

  Melanie groaned, rolled her eyes and shifted her weight as her horse shifted his. She’d been taking lessons for years and was perfectly at home in the saddle. Casey, on the other hand, had never ridden a day in her life – her father wouldn’t allow it. Ever. “What are you going to do if he finds out?”

  Miss Williams quickly glanced between the two, her eyes settling on Casey. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four, and my father has nothing to do with this. I do what I want. Now when can I start?”

  Miss Williams, a freckled-faced, petite forty-something, adjusted her riding helmet. “Let me check the schedule. I have a client who should be here any minute, but half the time she’s a no-show. If that’s the case today, you can have her slot.”

  “Sounds fair enough,” Casey said, tossing Melanie a triumphant smile.

  Melanie rolled her eyes again, dismounted her big bay gelding Georgie and handed the reins to a groom. “I’ll be right there. Go ahead and untack him. I’ll bathe him in a minute.”

  “Sure thing.” The groom led Melanie’s horse away.

  No sooner had he left than she turned on her friend. “Casey, you can’t do this.”

  “Why not? My father doesn’t run my life.”

  “No, but he’d like to. You’re only doing this because you’re angry with him about something, and I know this’ll get you in trouble.”

  Casey ignored her remark. “Do you think the instructor’s next client will show?”

  Melanie flicked her blonde hair out of her eyes. “I hope so. Then you can get your money back from Miss Williams.”

  “Is she a good teacher?”

  “She’s an ex-racing jockey and has been training hunter/jumpers for years, all of which is beside the point! You’re so stubborn! When are you going to quit?”

  “When he does.” Ever since Mother died when Casey was fourteen, J. Wayne Woodrow had been trying to control his daughter’s life, down to the last detail. She’d put up with being under his thumb for years, hoping that as she got older he’d put less pressure on her. Instead, he’d gotten worse. Most of the time he made her feel like she was still fourteen …

  “Casey?” Melanie said. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “So you’ve said.” Annoyed, Casey glanced at the arena’s ceiling, at Melanie, then … “Who is that?”

  Melanie turned. A man wearing a cowboy hat stood at the opposite end of the arena, silhouetted against the morning sun. “I don’t know.”

  “And what’s with the hat?” Casey asked, amused. This was a riding academy, and most people wore riding helmets or baseball caps, not an actual cowboy hat. Both women studied him as he made his way toward them, and simultaneously realized they were the only ones in the arena. “Does he work here?”

  “I’ve never seen him before,” Melanie replied with a shrug. “Maybe he’s bringing in a new horse.”

  Casey smiled. “He looks like an actual cowboy.”

  “Maybe he is,” Melanie said. He was halfway across the arena by now. “Probably looking for the office.”<
br />
  Casey sighed “Probably.” She was more interested in whether or not Miss Williams’ next client would show up. That is, until the stranger stopped in front of them.

  Chapter 2

  Casey and Melanie both gasped. He was at least six feet tall, lean, muscular, with short brown hair and dark eyes peeking out from under his black Stetson. He wore a denim jacket over a light blue T-shirt. He looked like a model from a cigarette ad, minus the cancer.

  He stared back, his hands on his jean-clad hips. “Can either of you ladies direct me to the office?”

  “Sure, it’s through there.” Melanie pointed to a gate behind them.

  Casey glanced around. “Are you delivering a horse?” she asked out of curiosity – and because she couldn’t take her eyes off him. This guy wasn’t a local, that was for sure.

  “No, ma’am. I’m here on … other business.”

  She smiled at his use of ma’am – was that how people addressed each other at the academy? She didn’t know enough about the place and didn’t want to look stupid. Melanie was the expert – she’d been coming to Dixie’s for pretty much forever.

  “Do you work here?” he asked.

  “No,” they said at once, then exchanged a quick glance. “I’m a client,” Melanie explained before Casey could continue. “I board my horse here and take lessons.”

  He nodded, then focused on Casey. “And you?”

  “I’m taking lessons too,” she said with a smile. Please don’t ask for how long, she tacked on silently.