Rancher's Covert Christmas

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Zane tapped a few keys on his computer, closing programs, and turned off his monitor. When he faced her, he turned up his palms and shrugged. “This is life on a ranch. We’re all on call 24/7.”

Erin stood and flipped her notepad closed. “Understood. No worries. We’ll continue this some other time.” She studied Zane as he stacked and straightened files on his desk, put away his pen and calculator in a drawer and pushed his chair under the desk. So orderly and neat. Her brother, Sean, an engineering student at the time of his death, had been the same way. She could still hear Sean saying, “A place for everything, and everything in its place.”

“Question?” she said as Zane took his gray cowboy hat from a hook made from bull horns by the office door.

“Okay.” He motioned with his hand for her to precede him out the door.

“When the call—or should I say the text?—came in just now about the trouble with the fence, I felt the mood shift in the room. Everyone tensed.”

He nodded, his expression flat. “For all of us to get a text at the same time is a bad sign. It means there’s trouble.” After a slight hesitation, he amended, “Usually.”

“I get that,” she said as they walked down the hall together. His broad shoulders filled the space between the walls where family pictures and shadow boxes with ribbons and medals had been hung. She wanted to spend more time in this hall with the old photos and awards, but Zane ushered her forward. “My question is this—when you read the text, instead of worry or frustration, like I saw on your siblings’ faces, you looked...relieved.”

Zane snapped his gaze toward her. “I did?”

“That’s how it seemed to me.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed as he stared at her. His brow furrowed, and his lips set in a taut line. While he was every bit as handsome as his twin, his more serious countenance and the lines of stress etched around his eyes made him appear older than his siblings.

“I suppose I was,” he said finally as he continued down the corridor. He sidetracked briefly to the foyer to retrieve Erin’s coat and hold it for her as she slipped her arms in the sleeves.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and adding another mental tick mark in the “gentleman” column for Zane.

She followed him through the kitchen and into the mudroom where he paused to toe off his athletic shoes and jam his feet into a pair of well-worn boots, saying, “Considering everything that’s been happening around here lately, I guess I was glad the news wasn’t anything worse. Loose cows and a broken fence we can handle. It happens now and then. Nothing new.” He exhaled a sigh as they stepped out into the winter chill, and his breath clouded. “The news just as easily could have been another disaster because of our saboteur, or a problem with my dad’s health, or bad news from the hospital about Dave, or—”

She grabbed his arm, stopping his progress across the ranch yard. “First, have you ever heard the expression ‘borrowing trouble’?”

He nodded. “I know. It’s a bad habit...especially lately.” He dragged a hand down his face and gave her weak smile of chagrin.

A pang of sympathy prodded her chest, and she had to remind herself that her job required her to stay as unaffected emotionally as she could. She didn’t have a heart of stone, but to judge people fairly and accurately, she couldn’t let her personal feelings sway her perspective. “Second, where’s your coat?”

He hitched a thumb at one of the outbuildings. “I have a work coat in the stable.”

“Well.” She took a step backward and motioned toward the area where she saw Josh mounting his horse and riding out. “Don’t let me keep you.”

Touching the brim of his hat, he turned and took a couple steps before returning. “Erin?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

He screwed his mouth into a frown of consternation. “I don’t want the incident this morning or the tension you saw in my office earlier to affect your research.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Easy there, cowboy. That sounds a bit like you’re about to try to censor my work.”

His brow dented, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s not what I meant. Although...ideally, I’d like your article not to be a laundry list of all the troubles we’ve had of late. That’d hardly be a sales pitch.”

“I told you before, and I’ll say it again, the integrity of my work requires no interference from the subject of my writing. My intent is not to sabotage your—” He flinched at her word choice. “Sorry. I’m not out to hurt your business. Trust me to do my job, okay?”

He hunched his shoulders against the cold as a chilly breeze buffeted them. A shiver sluiced through Erin, as well, but for a different reason. Every time she had to defend her work as a supposed journalist, she cringed internally. She could feel herself sinking deeper into a quagmire of deceit that dragged at her soul. Asking him to trust her, even as she led him to believe falsehoods about her, rankled.

He made a noncommittal sound in his throat. “What I meant was...I want you to have every opportunity to talk with the family, interview us, hear about our history, learn the business, get a close-up, inside view of the daily operations...despite the fact that we’ll be operating shorthanded. That, more than the troubling incidents that have put us on our heels, is what defines my family and this ranch.”

She raised her chin. “Oh,” she said awkwardly. She flashed him a lopsided smile. “Looks like I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have presumed...” She bit her bottom lip, letting her sentence trail off. Was she already letting herself be swayed by Zane’s serious disposition? Was she overcompensating because she found him so attractive and such an enigma at the same time?

The taut lines in his expression eased. “How about a mutual agreement to extend some trust, the benefit of the doubt?”

She released a deep breath, her grin warming. “Agreed.”

“In that spirit then...” He shivered visibly and jammed his hands deeper into his pockets. With the wind stirring, he had to be freezing. “How would you like to come with me and help round up escaped cattle?”

Erin gave a startled laugh. “Me?”

“It doesn’t get any realer than broken fences and rounding up a straying herd.”

She only hesitated a second before throwing her hands up with a snort of amusement. “Why not?”

“Good. This way.” He hitched his head toward the outbuilding where she’d seen Josh earlier. “You want a horse or an ATV?”

Falling in step beside him, she wrinkled her nose at his question. “An ATV? That’s not very Americana. Cowboys are supposed to ride horses.”

“It’s the new Americana. More efficient in many cases, and you don’t have to muck an ATV’s stall or pay for vet bills and feed. Every ranch I know is using some form of motorized vehicle these days.”

They reached the outbuilding, and as they stepped inside, the scent of manure and straw grew stronger. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside, she scanned the long aisle of stalls where a few horses hung their heads over their gates, snuffling and flicking their ears.

While Zane pulled on a coat he’d retrieved from a hook just inside the main door, she walked over to one of the horses and raised a hand to pat its nose. “Hi, beautiful. How are you?”

“So what do you think?” He eyed her as he buttoned the coat, which she saw was stained with Lord-only-knew-what, along with a liberal amount of dust and dried mud. No wonder he kept it in the stable.

“I’ll save the ATV for another day and try a horse...if that’s okay?”

He nodded and pursed his lips in thought. “I’d recommend Lucy for you. That’s who Kate rides.”

“Kate?” She flipped through her mental Rolodex, working to recall if she’d met Kate yet.

“Josh’s fiancée. She’s still learning to ride, and Lucy is one of our gentlest.” Zane had taken a saddle and reins from a rack and entered the first stall on the left. He stroked the neck of the large black horse in the stall, and the animal responded with a snuffle, nudging Zane with its nose. “Hey, Sarge. Time to work.”

Zane’s phone beeped, and he paused long enough to check it. Muttering a curse, he glanced back at Erin. “That was Roy. I need to hurry. The herd got spooked, and they need me ASAP. I really don’t have time to saddle Lucy for you. Rain check?”

Erin’s heart sank, but she tried to hide her disappointment. “Sure.”

As she turned to leave, he called, “Unless you wanted to ride double with me.”

Walking back to the gate of the stall, she licked her lips and weighed the option. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t. But I need an answer now. Those loose cows are getting near a dangerous area in the hills, even as we speak.” Zane slid the bit into the black horse’s mouth and adjusted the reins while he talked.

“Okay. Am I dressed all right?” She held her hands out and dropped her gaze to her jeans, winter coat and low-heeled suede boots.

“Cows don’t care about fashion,” he said, not even looking as he tossed a blanket over the horse’s back.

“Uh-huh,” she replied dryly. “But what about functionality? Do I need to change anything? I can run back to my room, if so.”

He sent her a quick side glance as he grabbed the saddle off the floor and draped it over the horse’s back. “It’ll do. But if you want to preserve the condition of those rather expensive-looking shoes, I’d swap out for a pair of work boots around the corner by the front alley door. While you’re there, grab some gloves.”

She followed his directions, and by the time she’d swapped her boots out and found a small pair of work gloves in a plastic bin, he was leading his horse—Sarge, he’d called the large black equine—out to the alley. The top of the horse’s head rose taller than Zane’s by several inches, and the beast’s well-muscled flanks were sleek and shiny, his ears perked and alert. Just the same, she asked, “Sarge can manage both of us?”

“For a while. I won’t ask him to work with both of us in the saddle.” He motioned her closer. “You’ll sit in front of me until we get up to the part of the fence where the cows got loose. Then you’ll have to get down while Sarge and I round up strays. But you can observe. Maybe give Roy a hand with repairing the fence?” He slapped the saddle and nodded toward Sarge. “Need a leg up?”

“Onto this giant? Definitely.” She moved closer and poked her foot in the stirrup, a challenge in itself thanks to her tight, slim-legged jeans. As she hoisted herself up, she felt Zane’s large hands on her hips, his fingers digging into her with a firm grip. The heat from his palms sent shockwaves through her, and her breath snagged in her lungs. Erin worked to calm her scattered pulse as she settled into the saddle, sliding as far forward as she could to make room for him. But Zane had a rugged, magnetic presence that was hard to ignore. Especially when his touch made her blood sizzle like Fourth of July sparklers. He swung up to sit behind her, and his broad chest and muscled legs surrounded her. The press of his body against hers was like a vacuum, sucking all the oxygen from her lungs. Dizzying desire flashed through her as his arms circled her to take hold of the reins. “Ready?”

She squeezed the saddle horn, searching for balance as her head swam. She hummed her assent, because she doubted she had the breath left to speak without her voice cracking.

Zane clicked his tongue to the horse. As they rode out, he paused long enough to call to the two dogs that milled around the gate to the pasture.

“Ace! Checkers! What are you two lazybones still doing here? We have work to do.” He gave a whistle and the dogs sprang to action, running into the pasture in front of them.

Erin tried to focus on the blue heelers bounding over the frozen ground ahead of them rather than the hard male body pressed against her back. Easier said than done, especially when Zane settled his hand on her belly, anchoring her as he kicked his horse’s gait up to a canter. She clutched the saddle horn with one hand and his arm with her other.

“You okay?” he asked, his mouth beside her ear and his warm breath sending a tingle through her.

“I’m good,” she said, though her voice sounded choked. She hoped he credited her winded reply to the jostling of the horse.

They rode for several minutes in silence, crossing the rolling hills of frozen pastureland. She drank in the lovely setting, imagining what it might be like to live in this rural setting, working the land and managing a herd for a living. Peaceful, in many respects, she thought, then remembered the stress and concern Michael had expressed to her because of the sabotage. Being at the mercy of the weather was a constant issue for the ranch. Drought, blizzards, storms could all take a toll on the herd.

“Do you ever wish you did something else for a living? That you lived in town and had a nine-to-five job?” she asked.

“No,” he said without hesitation.

“Never? Not even when the herd gets loose right at dinnertime and you have to round up straying cows in the freezing cold?”

She felt the rumble from his chest as he grunted. “Inconvenient, yes. But ranching is my life. My heritage.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t want something else for yourself. You really don’t ever think about getting a different job?”

“No.” His tone was so certain, so final. She had to admire that he was so sure of his life path. She wondered sometimes if she’d chosen to be a private investigator for the right reasons. If Sean hadn’t been killed, what would she have done with her life?

When the cattle and other ranchers on horseback came into sight, she pushed the philosophical questions aside and took in the scene before her. She recognized Josh in his black hat riding in a wide arc around the straying cows. Brady was further out in the pasture, while another man sat with his back to them, astride an ATV near the fence line, talking to the foreman, Roy Summers. Zane rode up to these two and addressed them. “Erin came to observe. Dad, want to give her a hand down?”

When the man on the ATV glanced over his shoulder, she saw it was Michael McCall, his face marked by lines of strain and worry.

Roy stepped forward first and reached up to help her down from the saddle. She caught the faint whiff of alcohol as the foreman set her on the ground. “Thank you, Roy.”

“Ma’am,” he replied, dipping his chin briefly.

“You can ride with me,” Michael said, patting the ATV seat behind him, “or you can stay up here with Roy.”

With another whistle to the dogs, Zane set off to help his brother and Brady head off the wandering cattle. She watched him ride away, a strange twinge in her chest. His command of his horse, his poise in the saddle, his whole confident demeanor struck her as infinitely sexy. He embodied the classic cowboy of American folklore, the rugged masculinity made famous by Madison Avenue advertisements. Her heart kicked, and her breath snagged as he galloped away.

“Ms. Palmer?”

She jerked her gaze back to Michael. “Oh, right. I’ll watch from here. I don’t want to be in the way.”

He touched the brim of his hat in acknowledgment and said something to Roy she didn’t catch as he revved the ATV engine and drove off in the same direction Zane had gone.

“Can I do anything to help you?” she asked Roy. “I brought gloves.” She pulled out the leather work gloves to show him.

“Sure. You can hold the posts while I work on the barbed wire.”

A stiff cold wind blew up across the pasture, and she dug in her coat pocket again for the bright purple knit hat her sister had given her last Christmas. After tugging the hat on, she moved to kneel beside Roy, who worked to wind new wire on the downed posts. The longer she held the posts, the more she doubted the value of her contribution. Roy was clearly humoring the ranch guest. But the simplicity of her task allowed her to follow the action in the pasture. The flow of the men on horseback, the dogs and the ATV, gathering the far-flung cows and guiding them back toward the open section of fence, was mesmerizing. More and more, though, she found herself less observing the process as a whole and more tracking one man in particular. Zane.

She furrowed her brow when she realized what she was doing. What was her fascination with him? Josh and Brady were every bit as handsome, if happily attached. The other men had been more cheerful, though she couldn’t find fault in Zane’s behavior toward her. She’d witnessed his courtesy and thoughtfulness. Was it the veil of mystery and wariness that surrounded Zane that intrigued her?

She gave her head a brisk shake. She didn’t need to form any leanings one way or another about any of the McCalls or the ranch staff without further observation and interviews. She’d been on-site less than twenty-four hours, for Pete’s sake! Yet her first impressions had always been a valuable guide in the past. So...what did it mean that she had such a visceral reaction to Zane?

“Now when they come around that hill with the herd, they’ll drive ’em right up here. Once they’re all inside the fence, you take that post over there—” Roy pointed to the last place the fence was standing “—and I’ll start driving in the new posts.”

“Got it.” She sniffed the air discreetly, more certain now that she smelled liquor on the man’s breath. Michael had told her, when giving her an overview of the state of the ranch, that Roy had recently done a stint in a rehab center. She didn’t want to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, but she wondered if she should let Michael know she suspected Roy had been drinking.

“Now when the cows come through, you’ll need to stay way back. You don’t wanna get trampled.”

Her pulse jumped, and she gave him a nervous laugh. “Uh, no. Certainly not!”

Roy glanced up from his manipulation of the barbed wire with a pair of long-nosed pliers. “The boys will do their best to steer ’em straight in, but you can never predict when a cow will veer off track.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

A whoop sounded behind her, and she turned to see Josh headed toward them, the first of the herd charging up the hill.

“Stand clear!” Roy gave her a gentle push, backing her away from the gap in the fence.

She scuttled away, her heart racing with the thrill of seeing the beasts beating a path toward her. The ground shook, and the low bleats and moos escalated the din of thundering hooves and the roar of the ATV engine as Michael guided the left flank.

Erin scanned the terrain, searching for Zane. He and Brady were bringing up the rear with the dogs racing along beside the cattle, tongues lolling. As he neared, Zane cast a glance her way. She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

But instead of returning a grin, his face darkened, and he shouted, “Erin, look out!”

She jerked her head around in time to see one of the cows at the edge of the herd veering away from the others. The cow was running straight at her.

Chapter 5 (#ud0e994ef-21a1-51ef-8250-3ad136980580)

Adrenaline spiked in Erin’s blood. She stepped back, only to come up against the barbed wire of the fence. Without a moment to second-guess, she whipped off her purple hat and waved it and her arms at the approaching cow as she yelled.

The cow tossed its head and turned sharply left, seconds before it would have trampled her. Relief left her limp, her knees shaking, and she would have collapsed if not for the strong arms that wrapped around her and pulled her into a hug.