Creation of COWBOY LIES

COWBOY LIES
Book #1 of the Ryan Trilogy
By Lynde Lakes
I lived on a ranch for a summer in my teens and the daily journal I kept helped me write COWBOY LIES and my other cowboy stories. And of course, my ranch friends are a constant source of information. I find it “bucking-bronco” exciting to read and write about raw-edged men who punch cattle for a living. Loving suspense, I also dig Federal agents and when the rancher is a semi-retired Fed, you can count on someone getting thrown—even dead. To get in the mood to write my cowboy books I wear a special diamond pin shaped like a boot that I purchased in Dallas Texas and wear the fringed denim vest that I wore the summer I spent on a Texas ranch. Then, while writing and living in the realm of the Ryan Ranch, I play all my favorite country western and Mexican tunes and paste up the snapshot of the last rodeo I attended plus a few pictures from a Miss Rodeo contest.

Enough said about my writing process, meet Matt and Molly:

Molli stared at the Stetson-wearing hunk of testosterone pacing next to the fireplace, and shook her head. "I don't like this. Nothing seems right!"
The possibility that she'd ever loved this man, let alone married him, was as remote as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, yet it was exactly what he wanted her to believe.
"You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, Molli," he drawled and headed out of the room.
She followed him down the hallway, running to keep up. "Not so fast, cowboy. What did you say your name was again?" He'd already told her, but she wanted to keep him talking while she figured things out.
He entered a nursery and stopped by the crib. A big, smile spread over his face. He was drop-dead handsome. Tall and lean. With a body custom built to wear those hip-hugging faded blue denim jeans. So what had he done in the past that just looking at him gave her the urge to pound his impressive chest?
"Okay, one more time," he said in a tight voice. "I'm Matthew Ryan, Matt for short, the owner of this two thousand plus acre cattle ranch. You're Molli, and this is our baby Sara Jane." He gestured to the baby lying in the crib with her big blue eyes fixed on the tinkling zoo animals mobile revolving over her head.
Molli accepted the names, at least for now. She had to put things together in small circles, feeling her way.
An hour ago, when she'd arrived, Sara Jane was already here sleeping. Matt said she'd been here all along. Molli had wanted to pick the baby up, hold the little sweetie close, but Matt firmly led her out of the room, saying Sara Jane would wake up soon for her bottle and she could hold her then. Molli had counted to ten and held her tongue, but if Matt Ryan thought he could lasso her emotions like one of his cattle, he was in for a rude awakening. From now on when she wanted to do something, she wouldn't ask first.
Matt took off his Stetson and tossed it across the room. It hooked over one of the two protruding spiky knobs on the back of the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the nursery. It was the first time she'd seen him without a hat shading his expression. He still looked dangerous.
The warning instinct twisting Molli's insides frightened her. Maybe if she knew the basis of her fight-or-flight feeling she could handle it better. She gripped the railing of the crib. "I don't feel safe. Why is that?"
Matt didn't quite meet her gaze. "The doctor gave you something. Maybe your paranoia is a side effect. It'll pass. You have nothing to fear here."
She touched the tender spot where the needle went in with searching fingers. The drugs the doctor had shot into her veins to keep her calm during her long helicopter ride from a private hospital somewhere along the Mexico border had pretty much worn off, and her head was getting clearer by the minute. "Paranoia? That's not it. I have a good reason to feel the way I do."
Dr. De La Fuente, the traitor, had released her to Matt and told her to trust this cowboy, this stranger. Molli hadn't wanted to leave the hospital. She'd felt safe there.
Sara Jane cooed and bobbed her head. With that cap of curly red hair, the baby could be
hers. Molli lifted Sara Jane into her arms, and drew her close, inhaling baby powder and sweet baby smells. She instinctively loved her, but she would love any baby. "How old is she?"
"Three months." Matt took the baby's small hand in his large callused one. His gesture brought him too close to Molli for comfort.
She stepped back. It wasn't Matt's looks that made her leery, quite the contrary. His shoulders filled that royal blue chambray shirt in the most arresting way, and his black wavy hair, with a tendency to fall across his forehead in a devastating bad boy look, was thick and curled ruggedly at his collar.
Molli looked down at her own flat belly. "Shouldn't I be more rounded if I had a baby so recently?"
Matt threw his hands up in the air. "For crying out loud. "You just got out of the hospital. You've been ill. Remember?"
"That's just it, I don't remember, and you know it."
His eyes gentled. "Be patient, it'll all come back."
How could it when nothing felt right? What if this wasn't her life at all? "My name doesn't even fit me."
Matt laughed without humor. "Yeah, well. I'll have to agree with that. With that auburn hair and spitfire tongue, you should've been named Blaze or Flame."
Molli glared at him. Everything about this rough-around-the-edges man screamed strength, danger. Could she really be married to this cowboy Neanderthal?
Molli gently jostled the baby, reveling in the baby's warmth against her breast.
Matt reached for Sara Jane. "Time to put this li'l angel back down. She's not usually up
this late." He automatically changed her, then got a fresh bottle from a small ice chest near the crib and placed it in the warmer on top of the dresser.
Molli watched him while the milk heated feeling squelched again. "I can give Sara Jane her bottle."
After he tested the milk to be sure it wasn't too hot he sat down in the rocker and stuck the nipple in the baby's mouth. "You can take over tomorrow after you rest."
Molli bristled, but once again she held in her frustration. A dark-haired beauty had been here when they'd arrived. Matt hadn't introduced her, and she disappeared without a word.
"Who was that woman?"
"My housekeeper, Tita."
Molli leaned against the wall and folded her arms. "Who's been taking care of Sara Jane in my absence?"
"Me. And Tita."
Matt glanced at his watch. "You've been up too many hours for your first night home. Go to bed. Your temporary room adjoins this one. Turn to the right. Everything you need is in there."
Temporary room? "I'm really not that tired." She was exhausted, but how could she rest with all these questions swirling in her mind?
Matt gave her a stern look, and gestured with his head. "Go. Doctors orders."
Damn Matt. He was rude and as bossy as any Third World dictator, and not the kind of man to give a woman that warm, secure feeling she craved.
She was about to tell him so, when something about the gentle way he was holding Sara
Jane touched Molli's heart and she decided to let him get away with his tyrannical behavior just this one more time. Tomorrow she'd be stronger and ready to hash this all out.
#
Molli awoke with a start in a king-sized bed--a strange bed. Then the events of the night before came rushing back. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and thrust herself to her feet. Time for her showdown with Matt! She showered quickly and dressed in one of the outfits she'd found in the closet. The Levi's felt stiff and a little tight, but the boots were comfortable enough. She touched the fringe on the vest. If these were her clothes, why did she feel like a city woman playing cowgirl?
Matt could answer that--and would, if she had anything to say about it. First, she had to see to Sara Jane's needs.
The crib was empty! An unexplainable, overwhelming panic gripped Molli.
Following the aromas of breakfast, she ran to the kitchen. Sara Jane was strapped into a high chair, gurgling happily. Molli let out a sigh of relief and kissed the baby's dimpled cheek.
Then she saw Tita. "Good morning," Molli said, smiling and trying to hide her disappointment that it wasn't Matt caring for Sara Jane.
Tita shook her head as though she didn't understand. When speaking English didn't work, Molli tried Spanish. All she got in response was a sad look and another shake of the head. Molli was pleased to learn she spoke the language with such ease, but why wouldn't Tita acknowledge her Spanish? Maybe the woman was a mute. Molli used a make-shift sign language to ask if Sara Jane had been fed. Tita handed Molli two jars of baby food--soft watery Oatmeal and apple sauce.
Before the housekeeper left the room, she thrust a note from Matt into Molli's hands. It had only three words on it, in big bold, black letters--DON'T GO OUTSIDE.
"Hmmm. Guess what, Sara Jane? As soon as mommy feeds you, we're going outside."