To Tame a Cowboy by Jody Hedlund

To Tame a Cowboy by Jody Hedlund

Author:Jody Hedlund
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction;Novels;FIC042110;FIC042030;FIC027360
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2022-03-17T00:00:00+00:00


When he arrived at the ranch, Brody took care of feeding and watering the wild mustangs. After finishing his work and packing, he headed toward the house, wishing the choices weren’t so complicated and hard for both the wild horses and the natives.

He threw open the kitchen door and stopped short at the sight that met him. Flora was sitting on Savannah’s lap, feeding a kitten goat’s milk through a tiny bottle contraption Savannah had created. Their heads were bent together, Savannah’s long blond hair mingling with Flora’s curly red.

Heaven help him. They were so pretty, especially Savannah with the way she gently stroked Flora’s hair and so tenderly murmured words of encouragement. His breath got lost somewhere in his chest just looking. He couldn’t imagine anything prettier, except maybe Savannah with her own little girl. She’d make a good ma.

Trouble was, he was the only one he could imagine her being with. The thought of her wearing any other man’s brand—including Chandler Saxton’s—boiled his blood.

Both Flora and Savannah glanced in his direction, their eyes bright, their cheeks flushed.

“Uncle Brody!” Flora whispered in a half yell. “I’m feeding the kitties.”

Vesta paused in kneading the bread and glared at him. “You gonna stand there all day, letting in every fly on the ranch?”

He closed the door behind him, even though the flies wouldn’t be a problem until after the last frost. He’d learned soon enough his first spring in Colorado that snow could fall any time in the spring. Last year, they’d had close to a foot near the end of May. Even though it didn’t stick around long in the lower elevations, it made for a shorter summer.

As he started to cross the room, Vesta stopped him with a jerk of her head toward the washbasin on a stand next to the door. He veered toward it and plunged his hands into the icy water.

“This one here’s Tiger.” Flora’s whisper was still loud enough to wake the dead.

“Tiger?” He scrubbed away the grime of the barn. “That’s a real fine name.”

“Vannah let me name the kitties.” Savannah’s name was a mouthful for Flora, and Vannah was the best the little girl could do. “He’s Tiger ’cause he’s striped.”

As he shook the water from his hands and reached for the towel, Savannah watched him with those eyes of hers that were as warm and blue as a columbine in a mountain meadow. The moment he shifted his attention to her, she focused on Flora, pressing a kiss against the child’s unruly, runaway curls.

Since the dance, Savannah had been doing her best to hide from the attraction between them. And he’d been doing his best to make sure she could see it.

Trouble was, she’d kept herself busy. When they weren’t out on one of her calls, she’d worked around the clock feeding the kittens. The runt hadn’t made it past the first night, but the other three were gaining weight and growing stronger each day.

“This one’s Snowball.” Flora pointed to the kitten with white fur.



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