Blue Moon Cowboy Preview

I thought you might enjoy a preview of the first chapter of Blue Moon Cowboy today!

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Joy, swift and undeniable, swept across the weathered features of a face that had endured eighty-one years of triumphs and tragedy, happiness and sorrow, hope and loss. As Liz Charles beamed at her approaching great-granddaughter, photographer Lainey Collins adjusted her focus and captured the moment with her camera.

She snapped a few more images as the child, wearing pink boots and a matching pink tutu over her denim leggings, climbed onto Liz’s lap.

It was a precious moment of pure love and adoration, and Lainey felt honored to preserve it in the photos she would later send to Liz.

The beautiful older woman looked like western royalty with white hair curling around her ears from beneath the brim of her wide-brimmed cream cowboy hat. Her ice-blue eyes matched the satin shirt she wore with a cream vest that featured a tone-on-tone embroidered paisley pattern. The lines around Liz’s eyes and bracketing her generous smile told stories about the woman every bit as much as the scar on her chin and the age spots on her arthritic hands.

Liz might be the honored guest of the day’s festivities, but she wore cowboy boots, jeans, and a buckle proclaiming her the champion of a team roping competition she’d won with her daughter fifteen years ago. The rancher was the epitome of a western woman, and the parade committee had recognized it since they’d asked her to be their grand marshal.

Earlier, Lainey had found a good spot along the parade route to take photos of Liz waving to the crowd gathered on the sidewalk as she rode in the gorgeous blue velvet seat of an open carriage pulled by a matched set of black horses. Lainey had even caught one of the miniature Snickers bars that Liz’s son had tossed out by the handful as he and his sister rode on either side of Liz.

The parade had ended, and now Liz waited to be introduced to the spectators watching a rodeo. Lainey had never been to a rodeo and hadn’t planned to attend this one, but Liz’s son had given her a ticket. As soon as she finished photographing Liz, she planned to go find her seat and take advantage of the opportunity to experience something new.

The crowd seemed lively, and the weather on the sunny April day was perfect, with hardly a cloud in the sky.

With all the traveling she’d done recently, taking photos of western women, Lainey had to glance at a banner on the rodeo arena fence to recall the name of the city. She’d spent two months driving around Texas, then another month in New Mexico and two weeks in Utah, before she arrived in Arizona to meet Liz and her family.

Lainey snapped a few more shots of Liz with her cute great-granddaughter, then moved back, her attention focused on getting the whole carriage in the frame of her photo.

She’d just pushed the shutter button when she bumped into a wall that smelled like leather with a hint of sage and something unexpectedly enticing. Then the wall shifted slightly, and Lainey spun around to look into the handsome face of a cowboy who could only be described as a frosty fox, with silver touching the dark hair at his temples. She realized she’d backed into him, and from the way muscles filled out his western shirt, she assumed their hardness had led to her confusion about backing into a wall.

Her mind felt utterly befuddled when he smiled and tipped his head in the polite gesture she’d observed most cowboys exhibited when greeting someone. She tried not to stare, but his face was positively intriguing, and not just because he was ridiculously good-looking. Laugh lines formed deep canyons around eyes that were a soft shade of grayish-blue that made her think of stormy spring skies. He owned a strong chin, a full bottom lip, and the kind of facial symmetry that painters and photographers pine after.

Lainey couldn’t help it if she wanted to take dozens of photos of his face. It was close to male perfection, even though she assumed he had to be somewhere around sixty. Then again, perfection was rather ageless.

She was far from perfect, or young. Not when she’d turned fifty-four on her last birthday.

Still, she hadn’t felt this drawn to a man in … well, she couldn’t remember the last time. The more likely reason was that she’d never felt so immediately attracted to anyone, but that wasn’t important.

Right now, she had a job to do, and letting a charming smile distract her wasn’t acceptable.

“Pardon me,” she said, offering the cowboy a brief nod of her head. She noticed then that he loosely held the reins of a horse in his left hand. He looked far too old to be competing in the rodeo, but he did appear to belong there.

“Be careful, ma’am. It’s not safe to move around here without a little situational awareness. You never know what you’ll bump into or step in.” His smile broadened as he glanced down at her feet.

The boots that had been new eight months ago when Lainey had purchased them specifically for working on her current photography project were coated in manure and looked like they’d been involved in a stampede.

It was the first pair of cowboy boots Lainey had ever owned, but she didn’t think they’d be the last. In fact, she’d been drooling over a few pairs she’d seen at a vendor booth yesterday. They were too expensive to wear to stomp around in manure, but it hadn’t kept her from looking at them. Just like she couldn’t stop looking at the cowboy.

Looking was fine.

Anything beyond that was definitely … dangerous.

Before she begged the cowboy to let her take a photo of him, she offered him a reserved smile. “Thank you for the warning. I was just trying to get the carriage in the shot.” Lainey held up her camera and shrugged.

“If you want to take a photo, I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

Lainey might have refused, except she really wanted the shot of Liz in the carriage.

“Thanks.” She quickly framed the image, took several photos, then glanced over at the cowboy who stood guard behind her.

If life were different—if she wanted to get involved with a man again, if she weren’t leaving tomorrow to photograph her next subject—she might have paused a moment to get to know the cowboy.

But life wasn’t different, and she had appointments lined up for the next month with no time for distractions. Especially distractions who smelled irresistibly masculine and divine and looked like they should be on the cover of a western magazine.

She nodded to the cowboy. “Thank you for your assistance.”

He touched his fingers to the brim of his hat in another polite gesture that was becoming familiar to her in person and not just something she’d seen in the movies. “My pleasure, ma’am. Be safe and enjoy the rodeo.”

Lainey walked over to the carriage, forcing herself not to turn and see if the cowboy was watching her or if he’d walked away.

After another dozen photos of Liz, Lainey made her way to her seat and was surprised to see several members of Liz’s extended family sitting there. She’d met a few of them over the past week while Lainey had taken photos of Liz at the ranch that had been in the woman’s family for more than a hundred years. She’d spent time at the ranch studying the photos that hung on the walls and graced the top of the old piano in the living room and now recognized many of the faces of those seated around her.

Grateful the ticket was for an aisle seat, Lainey settled in, ready to watch the rodeo. She had, in vague and general terms, an idea of how each event worked, but it was different to watch in person from a seat that had a great view of the arena.

She managed to sit through the first three events without taking a single photo, but when the saddle bronc riding began, every creative, artistic cell in her body screamed to snap photos of the action.

Lainey had never shot a sporting event, choosing to focus on portraits and, occasionally, a landscape. She didn’t have the right lens, or even the right settings dialed in on her camera, but when a bucking horse came near the section of seats where she sat, she focused on the rider’s face and snapped one shot after another.

When she lowered her camera, she realized one of the men helping the saddle bronc rider get off his horse looked familiar.

“Give that cowboy a hand, folks, he’s earned the top score so far,” the announcer boomed. “And while you’re at it, give our pickup men a hand for their hard work. That’s father and son duo Jason and Shaun Price!”

The crowd whistled and clapped. Lainey studied the cowboy she’d met earlier as he waved a hand to the crowd. The other cowboy, dressed exactly like him in a pale blue shirt, dark blue jeans, matching chaps, black boots, and a black hat, didn’t really look much like him. The younger man had hair the color of a shiny new penny, and his features were different, but she could see that the two men shared similar mannerisms.

Perhaps the frosty fox had a red-headed wife. That would explain his son’s hair and looks.

The thought of Jason Price being married made Lainey feel slightly agitated, and the agitation made her more than a little irritated with herself. For all she knew, the man had a dozen children and a beautiful wife waiting for him at home. Or in the crowd.

Her interest in him was clearly misplaced, and it would do her well to remember most people her age and his were happily wed.

With a deep, cleansing breath, Lainey lectured herself to put down her camera and enjoy the rodeo, but she couldn’t do it.

Instead, she snapped photos during the rest of the saddle bronc riding, breakaway roping, barrel racing, and bull riding.

The bulls made her flinch and gasp each time they bucked off a rider. She had been shocked to see Jason and his son out there on their horses, ready to assist where needed and to chase the bulls behind the chutes.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she focused her camera on Jason and took a few shots before she came to her senses and stowed her camera in her bag. When the last bull rider got bucked off, Lainey stood and made her way out of the grandstands. She walked to the far edge of the parking lot where she’d left her van.

She’d purchased the travel van, gently used, from a couple in Virginia who had planned to tour the United States. They’d bought the van and made it as far as Kentucky, where the husband had suffered a debilitating stroke. The van had remained parked behind their house for years, unused. Lainey had a friend who was a mechanic go with her to check it out. Athena, one of the best mechanics she’d ever met, had gone over the vehicle, declared it only in need of a tune-up, and told Lainey she’d be an idiot to pass up the sweet deal.

So, Lainey had purchased the van, and Athena had gotten it ready for the open road. Lainey had been living in it for the past three years as she went from one photography project to the next. It was compact enough that she could easily park it just about anywhere, but it had a sofa that made into a bed, a small kitchen area, and a tiny bathroom at the back of the van.

Lainey had learned right away to park at truck stops when possible and use their showers. They were generally clean and private, and the parking lots were well lit. She always parked as close to one of the light posts as possible, preferably within view of the truck stop doors.

Occasionally, the person she was photographing would invite her to stay in their home for the duration of her visit. Like now, she’d been invited to stay in Liz’s rambling adobe ranch house that had two wings full of bedrooms.

Lainey had been delighted with the lovely room she’d been given to use with a luxurious king bed and a private bathroom with a soaking tub.

Once she got out of the congested traffic of those leaving the rodeo venue, Lainey drove to Liz’s ranch, admiring the desert landscape on her way there and thinking about the woman’s story.

Liz and her husband had been high school sweethearts and had wed soon after they graduated. Peter worked days alongside Liz at the ranch and went to business school in the evenings. They’d only been married a year when they welcomed Andrew, the first of their four children.

By the time Peter graduated, Liz’s parents had passed away within months of each other and left the ranch to her as their only child and heir. She thrived on the ranch work, while Peter had a head for business. Young and full of ambition, they increased the profits of their enterprise and were even able to purchase a neighboring property without taking out a loan.

Then, Peter had died on his way to a cattleman’s meeting when a distracted driver had run a stop sign and hit him head-on. Liz had been only twenty-nine when it happened. People had expected her to sell the ranch or remarry to have a man at the helm, but she’d forged ahead, raising her children on her own, and running the ranch just like she and Peter had dreamed about.

Today, the ranch continued to thrive and was known in the region for excellent beef cattle as well as solid cutting horses, all because Liz refused to give up when others expected her to.

Which was why Lainey had chosen her as one of the women to be represented in the book she was working on. Pillars of the West focused on the matriarchs who were the glue that held their families together. Lainey had photographed women who’d done everything from making boots and operating a livestock auction to owning a barbecue sauce company.

Liz was the first rancher Lainey had interviewed and photographed, and she was enjoying every moment of the experience. The western way of life had always intrigued her, even if she didn’t fully understand it.

When she pulled up at the house, Lainey found the place buzzing with people. Liz’s family had planned a party to celebrate the honor of her being named the grand marshal, and also the end of the rodeo, in which many of them had been involved as volunteers or board members.

Although Liz’s daughter Margot had wanted to have the meal catered, Liz had insisted it be a potluck with everyone contributing their favorite dishes.

Lainey had even managed to put together an easy no-bake dessert. She used to enjoy cooking when she was younger, but she wasn’t a fan of trying to make anything complicated in her tiny van kitchen.

Besides, there were so many fascinating things to do other than slave over a hot stove.

Lainey got out of the van and made her way to the back door of the house, where she cleaned her boots before she went inside to the guest room she’d called hers for the last week. She hurried to take a shower and wash her hair, letting it air dry as she decided what to wear.

Thanks to Liz’s kindness, all but the clothes Lainey had worn that day were washed and neatly folded, waiting to be repacked in her suitcase.

The evening would likely be cool, now that the sun had gone down, but she also wanted to look nice for the party. Lainey chose a burgundy dress with a knit top and layers of lace on the skirt. To give it more western flair, she added a silver concho belt that had been a gift from a woman she’d interviewed in New Mexico. Maria Velez had started her own small jewelry store forty years ago. It now employed three dozen people in four different locations, and had made her a wonderful addition to Lainey’s Pillars of the West book.

Lainey settled silver hoops in her ears and fastened a simple silver chain around her neck, then laid out a classic denim jacket in case she needed it later.

After finger-combing her wavy hair, she applied a little mascara and lip gloss, touched her pulse points with her favorite perfume, and tucked her phone into the pocket of her skirt. She slid the strap of her camera over her head and right shoulder, shifting the camera to rest against her back. It was out of the way but available when she wanted to take a photo. She grabbed her jacket and left her room, making her way through the house to the kitchen.

It was full of people, some she’d met, but also several strangers.

“Lainey!” Andrew’s wife, Karen, smiled and motioned her over to where the woman was placing bacon-wrapped smoked sausages on a platter that already held a dish of barbecue sauce.

“What can I do to help?” Lainey asked as she reached back and grabbed her camera, then snapped a few photos. The typical women-in-the-kitchen scene compelled her to capture the moment.

“Take this platter outside? Guests are still arriving, but everyone should be here soon,” Karen said, quickly arranging the last of the appetizers, then lifting the platter and holding it out to Lainey.

Lainey replaced the lens cap, and shifted the camera behind her back and then picked up the platter. On her way out the patio door, she tossed her jacket over the back of a dining chair. Outside, the backyard was full of tables, folding chairs, and people. That morning, she’d helped Karen and Margot and their daughters with the decorations while Andrew and the other men set up the tables and chairs and hauled in grills.

Voices blended in a happy cacophony as Lainey looked around to see people laughing, smiling, and embracing as though they hadn’t seen each other in years, instead of earlier in the day at the parade or rodeo.

After she placed the platter on the table, Lainey took her camera in hand and snapped several photos. The back of her neck tingled, and she froze in place before slowly turning to her left. There, speaking to Andrew like they were old friends, was the cowboy she’d bumped into earlier.

Standing next to him was the red-haired younger man she’d heard the announcer say was his son. She zoomed in on the two of them and took a few photos, then hurried back into the kitchen. Maybe she’d stay in the house and avoid Jason Price.

She wasn’t sure she could handle another interaction with the handsome cowboy.