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“Ain’t you gonna read it?”
Cade realized the young cowhand had stepped out of the truck and was eyeing him expectantly.
He ripped open the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper, swiftly read the short paragraph, then refolded and tucked the brief message back into the envelope.
“Well? Was it important?”
“Yeah.” Cade tucked the letter into his shirt pocket. “I need to pick up my horse and gear at the line camp. Tell the boss I’ll be in late tonight to collect my wages before I head north.”
“Damn, that letter was bad news, wasn’t it?” Kenny seemed genuinely sympathetic.
Cade didn’t do touchy-feely emotional stuff but something about the kid’s worried face made him relent.
“My father passed away.”
“I’m sorry, man. That’s hard.”
Cade shrugged. “It happens.”
“So you have to go back home to take care of stuff for your mom?”
“My mother died when I was a kid.” Cade reached into the truck and slid the rifle into the window rack.
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
“Again, not your problem.” Cade took pity on the kid, who looked as gloomy as if he were personally responsible for Cade’s parents having died. “I appreciate you coming all the way out here to tell me.”
“Sure.”
Cade drove off; a brief glance in the rearview mirror told him the kid was still staring after him before he topped a rise and dropped down the other side, heading for the line camp.
With his customary efficiency, Cade packed, collected his last check and drove north toward the border. The shock of learning his father had died was numbing. But once he was on the road with little to distract him but the empty highway stretching ahead of him, the shock quickly gave way to a riptide of emotions. Anger warred with an unexpected searing regret. He hadn’t seen his father for thirteen years. He shouldn’t care that the man was dead. But a leaden weight pressed on his chest and, despite a gut-deep rejection of the emotion, Cade remembered feeling that same heaviness after his mother died. He had an uneasy suspicion the pressure was caused by grief.
Cade tried to reach his brothers but none of the three answered their cell phones. He left brief messages for each asking them to return his call as soon as they could. He didn’t tell them their father had passed away—he figured he’d wait until he had more information. The attorney’s letter hadn’t listed details, only that Joseph Coulter had died and the law office needed to speak with Cade, in person, as soon as possible. Since it wasn’t likely Joseph Coulter had left any of his assets to either Cade or his brothers, Cade suspected he might be able to resolve any questions from the attorney without Zach, Brodie or Eli having to make the trip home.
He doubted he’d be in Indian Springs more than a few days. He planned to visit the attorney to take care of whatever small bit of business the man needed from him, stop by his mother’s grave, say hello to a couple old friends before leaving town. He’d worked on a ranch near Cody, Wyoming, the year before and the owner had told him when he left that he had a job any time he wanted. Wyoming would be a good place to spend the summer.
He didn’t respond to the attorney’s letter with a phone call or note. Instead, he packed his truck, loaded his horse, Jiggs, into the trailer and headed north. It took almost a week of driving from dawn to dusk before he crossed the Montana state line. The farther north he drove, the chillier the weather grew. Full spring had yet to arrive in northeastern Montana and snow lay deep in coulees, whitened the ruts between plowed black rows in wheat fields, and filled the roadside ditches.
Five days after leaving Del Oro, in midafternoon, he turned off the highway and onto the gravel road that led to the ranch headquarters, driving beneath the familiar welded arch. The graceful curves of ironwork spelled out “Coulter Cattle Company,” the heavy metal frame standing tall and sturdy although the once-bright paint was worn away. The road stretched between fenced pastures where an occasional Hereford steer or a horse with its shaggy winter coat peered at him over the top strand of barbed wire fences.
The road curved around the base of a butte and climbed a rise. From the top, Cade saw the buildings that he’d once called home, clustered at the foot of a flat-topped hill on the far side of the valley.
He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel after thirteen years but he hadn’t expected to feel numb.
Maybe he’d been gone too long. Maybe the roots that once held him here were well and truly dead.
Or maybe I’ve been driving too long with too little sleep, he thought.
The truck and horse trailer rattled over the old bridge spanning the creek, then climbed the slope to the buildings. Cade pulled up the truck next to the corral and barn and stepped out. Rolling his shoulders to ease the tension of days spent driving, he turned in a slow circle, scanning the buildings.
The house needed a coat of paint and held an air of abandonment, its curtains drawn behind blank windows. The barn with its low cattle shed attached at one end, the granaries and machine shop were all weather-beaten. What little paint remained on the structures was peeling from the gray boards. All the buildings looked down-at-the-heels rough but Cade’s assessing gaze found no sagging rooflines. The structures appeared to be square and solid on their foundations.
Jiggs stamped and shifted, rocking the trailer on its axles and demanding attention.
Cade walked to the back of the trailer, unlocked and swung the gate wide. Jiggs looked over his shoulder and gave an impatient huff.
“Hey, boy.” Cade grinned, entering the trailer and moving past the big stud to untie him. “Little anxious to get out of here?” The horse shifted his weight and nudged Cade’s shoulder with his nose. “I don’t blame you. It’s been a long trip.”
He caught the lead rope at the halter, just under the black’s muzzle. “Back up, big guy.”
Jiggs obeyed, his hooves clattering on the wooden trailer deck. The minute all four feet were on solid ground, he shook himself and danced in a half circle at the end of the lead rope, lifting his head to look around. His ears pricked forward and he whinnied.
Cade looked over his shoulder to see what had caught Jiggs’s interest, turning fully when he saw a young woman standing just outside the open barn door, a bucket of grain in one hand. Silvery blond hair brushed the shoulders of a dark green barn coat and her brown eyes were wide, the surprise on her oval face clearly indicating she hadn’t expected to see him. She wore faded jeans beneath the bulky coat and old boots covered her feet, her walk smooth and graceful as she moved toward him.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to place her and failed. If she was a neighbor, he didn’t remember her.
And I would have remembered, he thought. Even covered by the coat and plain jeans, he could tell her body was slim and curved. Her fair skin glowed with health in the weak afternoon sunlight, her mouth lush below a small, straight nose. And her thick-lashed brown eyes were alive with intelligence, curiosity and a feminine interest mixed with wariness.
Everything male in him noticed—and liked what he saw.
“Hello,” she said, her voice slightly husky. Her gaze was fastened on his face and the small frown that veed the arch of her brows cleared as she drew nearer. “You’re one of Joseph’s sons, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t a question. The conviction in her voice was strong, mixed with the relief reflected on her face.
“I’m Cade Coulter. Who are you?”
Her eyes widened when he gave his name but she didn’t reply with her own. She seemed wholly absorbed in studying him and the open fascination in her deep brown eyes started slow heat simmering through his veins, his muscles tightening as her gaze swept slowly over his face and moved lower.
Mariah stared at the man in front of her. He was tall, easily a few inches over six feet, his shoulders broad beneath a sheepskin-lined tan coat. He wore a gray Stetson over coal-black hair and beneath the brim’s shadow, black lashes framed his deep green eyes. He wasn’t conventionally handsome but there was something essentially male, powerful and vaguely dangerous about him. His face was angular with a firm jaw, strong cheekbones, straight nose and a hard mouth.
He swept a slow, assessing look from the crown of her head to her boots and back up again. She caught her breath, awareness prickling her skin at the male heat that blazed for a brief moment in his darkened eyes before they were once again unreadable.
She realized that he’d asked her a question but she hadn’t answered, too busy drinking in his dark good looks while shivers of excitement raced over her skin. Self-conscious heat warmed her cheeks and she struggled to conceal her reaction to him.
“I’m Mariah Jones,” she told him. “I work here.”
He stared at her for a moment, those green eyes unblinking. Then he looked away, sweeping the area with a quick glance. “Where’s the rest of the crew?”
“There are only three of us—Pete Smith, J. T. Butler and me.”
“Three of you?” His voice was harsh, incredulous. “For how long?”
“I’ve been here four years,” she replied. “And J.T. about two. I’m not sure how long Pete worked for Joseph. He was here when I arrived.”
Cade let his gaze sweep over the run-down buildings once again. “No wonder this place looks like hell.”
“There aren’t enough hours in the day to keep up with everything,” she said evenly, trying to tamp down the spurt of anger caused by his comment.
He glanced at her, lifting a brow as if surprised at the thread of defensiveness in her voice. “I didn’t say there were. But this is a big ranch. Three people aren’t enough manpower to do more than barely keep this place running.” He flicked another glance over the buildings. “Where are the other two?”
“Pete went to town for mail and groceries. J.T. isn’t due home from school for another couple of hours.”
“School? How old is he?”
“Seventeen.”
He swore under his breath and glared at her.
“How old is Smith?”
“Sixty-five.”
“A kid, a guy on Social Security and a girl. What the hell was the old man thinking?”
“If you’re referring to your father, I suspect he was doing the best he could with what he had,” she said, an unmistakable snap in her tone.
He gave her another dark, unreadable look. “Yeah, I expect he was.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through thick black hair, raking it from his forehead in a frustrated gesture.
Mariah had seen Joseph make that same gesture a hundred times, and the likeness between father and son was suddenly sharpened.
Cade turned away and led the big horse to the corral. Yanking the lock bar free, he swung open the gate and walked the horse in, unsnapping the lead rope to set the animal loose. The stallion immediately trotted to the water trough and hay rack on the far side of the enclosure.
“I’m heading into town to talk to the attorney,” Cade told her as he unhitched the horse trailer from the dusty truck. “I should be back in a couple of hours.” He yanked open the pickup door and paused. “I’ve been on the road for days and I’m tired of restaurant food. Does anyone cook around here?”
“We take turns. Supper’s on the table in the bunkhouse at six. Tonight it’s chili.”
“I’ll be here.” The engine turned over and the pickup rolled forward, swinging in a U-turn.
Moments later, Mariah stood alone next to the empty horse trailer, watching a plume of dust rise behind the truck’s wheels as it sped down the gravel lane toward the highway.
So that’s Joseph’s oldest son. Mariah wasn’t sure exactly what she’d expected but the hard-eyed, dangerous-looking man bore only a passing resemblance to the laughing ten-year-old boy in the family portrait hanging on Joseph’s wall.
And when his green eyes had briefly flickered with heat after that first slow, assessing stare, she’d burned. The brush of his gaze was as physically arousing as if he’d reached out and slowly trailed his fingers over her bare skin, from her chin to her toes and back again.
She hadn’t expected to be attracted to Cade Coulter.
It was a complication she didn’t want. And it was sure to cause trouble, she thought with conviction. She’d simply have to set aside her attraction, she told herself, and focus on her promise to Joseph that she would do everything she could to encourage his sons to remain on the Triple C. She was determined to fulfill her vow and see Joseph’s last wish come true.
With renewed determination, she turned on her heel and walked toward the bunkhouse. She needed to start the chili simmering. She had only a few short hours until dinner—and Cade’s return.
Chapter Two
A half hour after driving away from the Triple C, a beaming receptionist ushered Cade into Ned Anderson’s office. The attorney rose and leaned over the gleaming surface of his desk to shake Cade’s hand.
“I don’t mind saying I’m damn glad to see you, Cade.” The attorney waved him to a seat in one of the leather armchairs facing the desk and dropped back into his own chair. “I was beginning to wonder whether we’d be able to locate you and your brothers.”
“How long have you been looking?” Cade asked, curious.
“Ever since Joseph passed away.” Anderson peered at Cade over the tops of reading glasses, his eyes shrewd. “I assumed he had current addresses for all of you but discovered too late that he didn’t. Do you have any up-to-date contact information for your brothers?”
“Yes.” Cade took his cell phone from his coat pocket. “I can give you their cell phone numbers and last known addresses.”
The attorney jotted notes on a pad as Cade read off Zach, Eli and Brodie’s information. “Excellent,” he said with satisfaction when Cade finished. “I’ll pass this on to the investigator immediately. Hopefully he’ll be able to talk to them all within a day or two.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I left messages on all their cell phones as soon as I got your letter. That was five days ago and none of them have checked in.”
Anderson frowned. “Why not?”
Cade shrugged. “Hard to say. It’s not unusual to wait awhile for an answer.”
“How long is ‘awhile’?”
“Depends on where everyone is.” Cade noted the attorney’s lack of comprehension. “None of us spends a lot of time in one place,” he explained. “Brodie’s a champion bull rider and follows the rodeo circuit—usually rents an apartment in a different place each year after the season ends. Eli’s a silversmith—sometimes he rents a studio but often apprentices with another artist. When he’s studying, he might spend a year or more living near the master teacher’s studio. And Zach …” Cade paused, a half-smile curving his lips. “Actually, Zach’s the one we use to keep in touch. He works for a company in San Francisco and bought a condo there years ago. He travels a lot for his job, though, and since I haven’t heard from him, I’m guessing he’s not in San Francisco right now.”
“So you have no idea how long it may take to reach them?”
Cade shook his head. “No.”
The attorney sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. His chair squeaked as he leaned back. “That complicates matters.”
“Why?” Cade asked bluntly.
“Because the Triple C is barely holding on by its fingertips and only you four Coulters can save it.”
Cade’s gaze narrowed as he straightened in his chair. “I don’t understand.”
The attorney sat forward, took a thick file from a stack on the corner of his desk and flipped it open. He sifted through documents before sliding a sheaf of papers across the desk. “This is a copy of your father’s last will and testament. You’ll want to read it carefully, but briefly I can tell you that, with one exception, Joseph left everything he owned to you and your three brothers.”
Stunned, Cade stared at Anderson for a moment before picking up the document.
“You’ll notice on page three,” Anderson continued, “that Joseph left the Triple C to all of you in one-fourth shares. He also left each of you control of individual aspects of the ranch. In your case, he left you all the cattle and any other livestock. You have the power to sell any of them you want. But you can’t sell the land. None of you can sell any of the Triple C acres without express consent, in writing, of the other three.”
If Cade didn’t have the will in front of him, he wouldn’t have believed Anderson. But the document was clear. He scanned the typed pages quickly, stopping abruptly when he reached page five.
“He left my grandparents’ cabin and three acres to Mariah Jones?” The quick flash of anger echoed in his words.
“Yes.” Anderson didn’t flinch from Cade’s hard stare. “Joseph died of cancer. Mariah Jones took care of him, and it was my observation that he viewed her as a daughter.”
“I’ll bet he did.” Cade’s growled response held sarcasm. He didn’t believe any man, even one Joseph’s age, could look at the blonde and not see a beautiful, sexy woman. He tossed the will onto the desk in front of him. “That cabin sits within yards of the barn and is part of Triple C headquarters, plus it’s landlocked and surrounded by Coulter land. Is there a way to break the will and keep it part of the ranch?”
“No,” Anderson replied. “A clause provides any heir challenging any part of the will shall have their portion of the estate gifted to the State of Montana’s park system.”
Cade frowned, silently considering the problem before deciding to shelve it for the moment. Not that he believed there wasn’t a way to keep the cabin in Coulter hands, nor that Mariah Jones hadn’t somehow manipulated Joseph to convince him to leave her the valuable property. The cabin was important not only because of its location—his grandfather had built it with his own hands. It was part of Coulter history and he’d find a way to reclaim it. “You said the ranch is hanging on by its fingertips. What do you mean?” he asked, returning to the larger issue of the Triple C.
