Trouble at Lone Spur
Settle down for a warm, wonderful read by the talented Roz Denny Fox!–Kristin HannahThe Lone Spur RanchCrockett County, TexasLizbeth Robbins has been following the rodeo circuit for the past six years, learning the farrier's trade, dragging her little girl from town to town. But now her daughter's in school and Lizbeth needs a more permanent job. She's relieved to find one at the Lone Spur: shoeing Gil Spencer's quarter horses. Even if it was his foreman who hired her and the man himself doesn't want her anywhere near his ranch!Gil Spencer hates rodeos–mainly because his ex-wife loves them. While he was busy pulling his ranch out of the red, she was busy pursuing a career as a champion barrel-racer. Worse yet, the ex-Mrs. Spencer abandoned her husband and their twin sons for the dubious charms of some bronc rider. So the last person Gil wants on the Lone Spur is a former rodeo employee. Even if Lizbeth Robbins is the most attractive woman he's met in years. Especially then…
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Table of Contents
“Rusty and Dusty don’t got no
mom and I don’t got no dad.”
Melody took a deep breath. “So, Mom—we could be a family!”
“Oh, no!” Lizbeth gasped. “Melody, baby, you can’t just pick up stray people like you do kittens and make them part of your family.”
“Why not?” A tear caught in thick lashes, then trickled down a round cheek.
“Well, because…because…” Liz sighed. “Because you can’t. And whatever you do, promise me you’ll never bring up this subject with Mr. Spencer or his sons.”
“But how will they ever think of it on their own? They’re boys and—”
“Never, Melody. Is that understood?”
“O-kay. But will you make enough sandwiches for them? And take the rest of the cupcakes. Please, Mom.”
“Melody Lorraine. I can see the wheels turning. You will not lure the Spencers with food. Where on earth are you getting this nonsense? Certainly not from me.” Liz threw up her hands. “I want to make sure you know I’m dead serious about this, Mel.”
“All right. But jeez!” Melody slid off her pony and plunked down on the porch steps, chin in hand, to wait for the Spencers.
Dear Reader,
Trouble at Lone Spur is a composite of several story ideas that finally jelled into one. I’ve wanted to set a story in the wide-open spaces of west Texas ever since I discovered that this sometimes harsh, arid land casts a lasting spell. And so do the men who work it! Cowboys—who can resist ‘em?
Gil came to me in a flash. A bone-weary rancher who’d inherited a run-down ranch called the Lone Spur. A man left to raise his unruly twin sons alone. I knew those twins; I baby-sat them in another life. Believe me, Gil needed a strong helpmate!
I found Lizbeth in my bottom drawer, along with an article I’d clipped from Western Horseman about a female farrier. The article was sketchy, my notes on Lizbeth brief. She was pretty and petite and she was married to a grand national bull-riding champion. A nice guy who was also a good-looking hunk. In my original version of Liz, she and this husband of hers had a sweet young daughter. Wow, talk about problems. Gil needs Lizbeth desperately, and she already has a man in her life! Plus trouble of her own. Stapled to Lizbeth’s file were clippings and news stories about children who’d fallen in abandoned wells. More specifically, I’d played around with the idea of what would happen to Lizbeth’s marriage if her daughter tumbled into a well while she was off shoeing horses. But I couldn’t ask Gil to wait around for her to work through all that. So…I made Liz a widow. Let the trouble at Lone Spur begin!
As you’ll see, a finished book rarely ends up the way it starts. For all readers who, over the past few years, have written and asked how I come up with story ideas—I give you Trouble at Lone Spur. My secret is out, but I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll stop writing to me.
Roz Denny Fox
P.O. Box 17480-101
Tucson, Arizona 85701
Thanks to my former critique partners in San Angelo, Texas—Ken, Jan, Barbara, Janet and Linda—for helping me fine-tune Gil and Lizbeth’s story. Mary, thanks for all the horsey info. Humble thanks to the patient farrier who answered endless questions about shoeing horses. He prefers to remain anonymous—a macho thing, I guess.
And finally, thanks to Ken Hoogson for sharing his first-hand experience with mine and well rescues.
IN THE TWO WEEKS since Lizbeth Robbins had hired on as farrier at Gilman Spencer’s ranch, she hadn’t laid eyes on the man. The Lone Spur, situated in a sparsely populated corner of Crockett County, Texas, was a quarterhorse operation—and badly in need of her services. But if Spencer’s name hadn’t appeared on the sign at the entry gate, she might well have believed that her elusive boss was a phantom. Not that Liz cared whether she ever met the Lone Spur’s head honcho. She’d already formed her opinions.
From all she’d gleaned listening to Rafe Padilla, the ranch foreman, it sounded as if Spencer was a hardheaded perfectionist who didn’t give second chances. She suspected he was ill-mannered, to boot. That notion had come to Liz through personal dealings with his ornery-assin nine-year-old twin sons. Last night’s debacle cinched it.
While today she could laugh about the incident, it hadn’t seemed funny then. She’d been in her grubbiest clothes, hanging stubborn wallpaper in her minuscule bathroom, when all at once, in waltzed this cowboy dandy, a total stranger, claiming he’d come for the candlelit dinner Liz had promised in the note she’d sent him.
Of course, Melody shouldn’t have let a stranger in the house. But apparently her six-year-old daughter was dazzled by the Chaps cologne that rose around the cowboy like a cloud. Darned stuff made Liz sneeze. The Lone Spur’s biggest Don Juan wasn’t happy when she’d ushered him out, suggesting someone had played a trick on him.
