скачать книгу бесплатно
Mom lifted her gaze heavenward. “At least, tell me you got Ted to sign the custody agreement.”
Rachel’s smile fell. “He wants another stipulation.”
“What is it this time?” Nana put down her knitting needles. “Does he want you to be his designated driver on Saturday nights?”
“It’s nothing.” Rachel bent to pin a fan of the pinwheel together, unable to look at her family.
“From the expression on your face—” Nana thrust a finger in Rachel’s direction “—your nothing means something awful.”
“It’s not.” It shouldn’t be. “Ted wants me to agree to stay here to raise Poppy.”
“As if you’d leave us.” Mom picked up Poppy and gave her another Cheerio from her stash. “We wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
“We sure couldn’t get Stephanie to run the ranch.” Nana harrumphed. “Your little sister is more interested in the color of her nails than in the color of a healthy heifer’s tongue.”
Rachel grimaced. She wasn’t sure she could confidently state the correct color of a healthy heifer’s tongue, either. And she resisted looking at her nails. She hadn’t had a manicure in who knows how long. Or a pedicure. Or gone shopping for clothes for herself. Or had highlights put in her hair. She missed the days when she could pamper herself, like Stephanie, who had two beautiful girls and a handsome architect husband in nearby Livingston.
Poppy giggled and patted her palms on Mom’s cheeks. “Ga-ga-ga-gahhh.”
Guilt wrapped around Rachel’s chest and squeezed. With such an adorable daughter and a loving family, Rachel shouldn’t resent Ted’s restriction.
The sound of wood cracking and snapping could be heard outside. She hurried to the window and peered out on the backyard. “Shoot. It’s that heifer.” She’d forgotten to text Henry. The cow had pushed her way through the pickets to the vegetable garden. “I’ll get her.” And now she could add fixing the garden fence to her long list of to-dos.
Rachel rushed to the mudroom, slipped out of her heels and into Mom’s pink and gold-trimmed cowboy boots. She grabbed Dad’s lariat from a hook on the wall and then ran out into the heat wearing her best suit and pearls. “Git! Git!”
The heifer looked up. The green feathery tops of Nana’s carrots dangled out of one side of the cow’s mouth. She didn’t budge, most likely because she didn’t consider Rachel a threat.
The cow lowered her head and resumed her grazing.
“Hey! Hey!” Rachel slapped the stiff rope against her boots and then ran down the porch steps, charging the heifer. “Get out of there. Git-git-git!” She sounded like Poppy, except not as happy. She swung the loop of rope at the heifer’s front flank.
Startled, the heifer rolled her eyes and backed up a few steps, reevaluating Rachel much the same way Ben had earlier.
“That’s right. Git!” Rachel swung the lariat in front of the cow’s face. “Back up. Get out.”
That worked. The heifer made a sound like someone had sat down hard on a whoopee cushion. She wheeled and trotted out through what was left of the fence posts, kicking up dirt clods at Rachel. Slimy mud spattered her good jacket and skirt.
A guttural wail filled the air.
That wail... It was hers.
Rachel had three court suits that fit her mommy hips.
Well...now only two.
Her mother tapped on the bedroom window glass, her face hovering above Nana’s. “Are you all right?”
Rachel nodded, even though she wasn’t. She marched across the ravaged carrots and torn-up grass, scrunching her eyes against the threat of tears, because ranchers didn’t cry. Not over ruined wool and silk.
The heifer headed behind the barn.
Rachel took off after her, rounding the corner only to find the escapee ambling down the weed-choked road that separated the Double T from the Blackwell Ranch, tail swinging happily as if she was high on carrots.
The gate was open, which gave rise to many questions. Why was it ajar? Who’d been careless enough to leave it open? How had the heifer escaped the large pasture? Was another gate open? A fence down? Were other livestock roaming about? The herd was supposed to be summering across the river in higher, greener pastures.
Rachel latched the listing gate, closing off the road and shutting the heifer in. Someone would have to saddle a horse and ride the property line to find how and why the heifer was free.
Personally, she’d like that someone to be Henry. She hadn’t expected to do anything but paperwork today and hadn’t brought a change of clothes. Although her clothes were already ruined, she reminded herself.
Rachel turned toward a small house behind the barn. It was the original one-room homestead. It had no front yard. No fenced backyard. No driveway. But a well-used green Ford pickup was parked near the front door.
“Come in,” Henry called after she’d knocked.
The tiny house had somber walls and exposed beams. A twin bed was in one corner next to a tall pine dresser. The doors to the closet and bathroom were ajar. The kitchen had a collection of empty soda cans on the brown Formica countertop. A burgundy recliner and television filled out the space, the latter perched on an old kitchen table with spindly wooden legs.
Henry sat in his recliner, an empty microwave container of macaroni and cheese in his lap. His scuffed boots were discarded near the door, as if he’d needed to take off his shoes first thing to pamper his aching feet. He muted the television. “What can I do for you, little lady?”
Is it too much to ask that he call me Rachel?
Probably, since he’d seen her as a toddler running through the front yard sprinkler naked.
Hoping to garner some respect, Rachel tugged down her blouse and buttoned her jacket. Her efforts to look like a presentable boss—one worthy of a title better than little lady—resulted in a fair amount of dung sprinkled on the floor. “There’s a heifer loose. I shut her in the road leading to the river, but there’s a break in the fence somewhere.”
“I’ll get to lookin’ tomorrow.” Henry was seventy-five if he was a day. He’d been with the ranch since he was in his twenties. Nothing upset him. Not loose heifers or flooded pastures. “Thanks for letting me know. If she continues to be a problem, we’ll have to make steak out of her.”
Rachel had never been good at eating animals she’d had a face-to-face with. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Let’s make sure none of the rest of the herd is loose.”
“Little lady.” Henry slid his glasses off his nose and stared at Rachel. “After your father died, we made an agreement. Unless there’s an emergency, I don’t put in more than my eight hours, or I retire.”
The last thing Rachel needed was to upset Henry enough that he’d retire. But still, she worried. They had so few cattle left. “What about Tony?”
“He left early to have a root canal in Bozeman.” Henry’s gaze drifted back to the television. “He won’t be in tomorrow by the way.”
Shoot. She’d forgotten. But still... “This needs to be done tonight.”
“Ain’t no hurry, little lady. We don’t live in a time of cattle rustlers.” Henry cast a disparaging glance at Rachel’s pearls and then at her mother’s pink-and-gold trimmed boots. “The Blackwells raise Black Angus. They aren’t going to confuse white-faced cows on their land with their own.” He unmuted the television. “You can’t run a ranch in heels and pearls. Now, you worry about taking care of that baby of yours and I’ll worry about the ranch.”
Rachel left, feeling as if she’d been given a glass of water, a pat on the head and then shooed toward her bedroom.
Little lady.
Rachel’s anger increased with every step she took. Dad wouldn’t have waited until morning. There was nothing for it. This little lady was going to have to ride out to the fence line herself.
Now all she needed was something to wear.
CHAPTER THREE (#u6a1e8a71-d6f7-5558-bd1a-35aab36077e7)
BEN SPENT THE rest of the afternoon and early evening at the kitchen table of his childhood home researching water rights and occasionally staring up at the pink-feathered chandelier above him.
He’d seen a lot of high-end apartments decorated by celebrated designers in New York, but he’d never seen the likes of that chandelier. Big E had to be going blind. There was no way his grandfather could sit underneath pink feathers and drink his morning coffee every day.
Watch out, boy. Men bend over backward for love.
His grandfather had told Ben that years ago. And now? Big E was like a pretzel.
When Ben had proposed to Zoe, he’d been naive. He’d thought his high school sweetheart wanted the same things he did—the finer things city life had to offer. He’d thought his grandfather wanted what was best for Ben when he’d made sure Zoe didn’t need to worry about spending on the wedding.
“Your grandfather took me shopping in Bozeman,” Zoe had said on the phone one night when Ben was in New York.
“Why?” Ben’s attention was still half focused on the wording in the legal brief he was crafting.
“Because he wants me—and you—to have the very best,” she’d replied in a stately voice.
Later, when Ben had asked his grandfather about his generosity, he’d scoffed and said it was nothing.
Today, looking around the remodeled kitchen with its frivolous decor, it looked like the Blackwell Ranch had money to burn. According to Ethan, that was far from the truth. But then, when had Big E been a proponent of the truth?
Ben had worked hard in law school, spent summers interning in Boston, passed the bar in New York on the second try and in Montana on the first, returning home to help Big E protect the ranch’s water interests after practicing law in New York for a few years. He should have known Big E had personal interests of his own.
“We have to disclose this to opposing council,” Ben had said when Big E showed him a yellowed piece of paper referring to the thin strip that divided the Double T from the Blackwell Ranch. “This says the land above the aquifer was traded by Mathias Blackwell to Seth Thompson in 1919 for a prize bull.” In which case, the Thompsons would have rights to the aquifer, not the Blackwells.
“No, not necessarily.” Big E closed the door to his study, affording them some privacy. “For all we know, there’s another deed for the parcel. Folks in this valley bartered back and forth with land all the time. The Blackwells have been paying taxes on that strip for decades. I don’t care what that paper says. It’s our land.”
“We won’t know for sure until I do a title search.” Protecting Blackwell assets required due diligence.
Ben was in a precarious position. He didn’t want the Double T to go under, but they might if their river water was restricted. If the Thompsons owned the strip of land and the aquifer rights, the river water would matter less.
“No title search.” Big E dragged the cigar chair to the left of the fireplace out of the way. He leaned down and pried a board up with a letter opener, revealing a small safe. He put the yellowed piece of paper inside. “This is a small county. You search for a title and pretty soon everyone knows we’re looking for something, and then someone will want to know what it is we’re looking for.” Big E got to his feet with a creak of bones and put his hands on his hips. “Next thing that happens is we’ve got less land and a need for water. Are you a Blackwell, or not? Are you going to be our lawyer, or not? Think about the repercussions before you betray attorney-client privilege.”
Ben hadn’t wanted to let the issue go, but he had in the end. Eventually, they’d won the river water rights, but Ben had felt guilty about the victory because his father wouldn’t have approved the means, and Rachel was his friend. Of course, he’d only had twenty-four hours to feel guilty about it before Zoe ran off with Big E, and Rachel tossed that in his face, along with their friendship.
“Hey, where were you?” Ethan returned to the house after dinner. He’d showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a green button-down. “Dinner service at the guest ranch was an hour ago. We were expecting you to lend a hand.”
“I’ve been busy.” Ben closed his laptop and the article about the revocation of rural water rights in nearby Gallatin County. “And before you get on me, I don’t take calls or answer texts when I’m preparing for court.” Ben glanced around the kitchen and at Ethan’s empty hands. “Didn’t you bring me something to eat?”
“No.” Ethan scowled. “You have to earn dinner. We’re all pitching in until Big E gets back.”
Ben pointed at his laptop. “I am pitching in.” He let annoyance trickle into his tone. “I’ve been working on something more important than making sure Zoe’s guests give the ranch a good rating on social media.”
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest.
“Come on, Ethan. Are you sure Big E went on vacation on impulse? Coincidentally right before the guest ranch opened its doors?” Ben hooked his arm over the back of his chair, not about to be a busboy in Zoe’s little side business. “Are you sure Big E didn’t take off because he didn’t want to be the host of a bed-and-breakfast? This could be a ploy to get someone else to do all the work.”
“This isn’t like the time he hid our truck keys until we fixed the roof on the barn.” Gone was the humor Ethan had greeted Ben with earlier in the day. “He and Zoe and the motorhome are gone. Big E’s voice-mail box is full. No word from them. No ransom note either, in case you were wondering.”
“There has to be some clue in Big E’s office as to where they went.” Ben got up and walked down the hall to their grandfather’s study.
“We searched in there already,” Ethan grumbled, following him.
“Is it normal for Big E and Zoe to take off like that?” Ben stepped into the room, trying to remember which floorboard his grandfather hid his safe under. “The sheriff doesn’t suspect foul play?”
“No.” The way Ethan said the word, the sheriff had probably laughed him and Jonathon out the door.
The study was the one room on the ground floor where nothing had changed. The same wide-topped solid oak desk. The same metal, olive-colored file cabinet. The same dark wood floors worn in front of the fireplace where Big E liked to pace.
And there, to the left of the hearth, was the leather cigar chair that stood guard over Big E’s floor safe. Was the paper documenting the land trade still inside? All Ben needed was the combination to find out.
“According to Jon, Big E and Zoe travel regularly in the motorhome.” Ethan moved to stare out the window, sounding preoccupied. “But this time they left without telling Katie or Lochlan or anyone where they were going or how long they’d be gone. And Big E didn’t move enough funds in the bank accounts to cover the checks Katie needed to write, like for feed and payroll.”
Ben stared at a photo of Big E on the mantel. He wore a dark suit and black bolo tie. He’d shaven and his peppery hair was neatly trimmed. Zoe leaned in to kiss his cheek. Her straight blond hair was framed by a white bridal veil.
Ben expected to feel pain in his chest, somewhere around the spot his heart was supposed to be. Jealousy. Loss. Betrayal.
He felt nothing, except...confusion.
His grandfather looked happy. And Zoe looked like a joyful, blushing bride.
Ben’s image of them had been clichéd. He’d pictured Big E with a depraved, triumphant attitude, as if he’d successfully pulled one over on Ben. He’d imagined Zoe with a cold look in her eye as she calculated the spending limit on the credit card Big E gave her.
“We should be worried,” Ben said reluctantly. “Couples in love don’t just disappear. I’d wonder about his sanity if he didn’t have Zoe with him.” And wasn’t that a change? Ben paying a backhanded compliment to his ex.
“I need to tell you something.” Ethan turned, looking as if he was about to go on the witness stand in a contentious case.
His brother’s heavy expression seemed to require lightening. “If you tell me you killed Big E in the library with a candlestick, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”
Ethan’s mouth was a flat line. This was either something grim, or Ethan had indeed killed their grandfather.
Ben swore. “Seriously, I would have studied criminal law if I knew you had a violent side.”
“It’s not that kind of news.” His twin shook his head. “I’m getting married.”
“To Sarah Ashley Gardner?” Please say no.
Ethan had been dangling from Sarah Ashley’s string since he was thirteen.
“No. To her kid sister. Grace.” That wasn’t concern lining Ethan’s face. It was defensiveness. “I love her. We’re going to have a baby.”
Ben had the strongest urge to close the distance between them and hug his twin. He glanced at the photo of Big E and Zoe and didn’t budge. “Congratulations.”
“Jon’s getting married, too, in case you hadn’t heard. Her name is Lydia and she’s great for Jon.”
Ben’s chest tightened. He felt like an outsider. They hadn’t told him their good news earlier. Of course, he’d refused the offer of a beer and a game of poker, during which they might have told him. “I’ll congratulate Jon next time I see him.”
“Grace has been helping at the guest ranch,” Ethan said. “But she’s tired and if you helped out—”
“If I helped out,” Ben cut his brother off, “I wouldn’t be prepared to defend the ranch’s water rights in court.” He had to be ready for whatever Rachel threw at him. “I’m here for one reason and one reason only. As your attorney.”
“Which is important to me. I want to start a veterinary practice here on the property once I get licensed in Montana.” Ethan rubbed a hand through his hair, still looking defensive. “Right now, I’m practicing under Norman Terry at the clinic in town. Most of my patients are pets of friends, our ranch livestock and the petting zoo animals.”
