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A Wife in Wyoming
Lynnette Kent
RANCH RESCUEFord Marshall returns to Wyoming temporarily to help his brothers run the Circle M. He's looking forward to some hard work, but also peace and quiet–until Caroline Donnelly hijacks his ranch for her program to help troubled teens.Now he's got unruly kids to deal with, a thousand chores and a growing attraction to Caroline that he isn't sure he wants to deny. But Ford has nothing to offer a hometown girl. He has to return to his job in the city at some point soon–his brothers depend on that outside income to keep the ranch afloat. So why can't Ford get the idea of a Wyoming wife, and coming home for good, off his mind?
Ranch Rescue
Ford Marshall returns to Wyoming temporarily to help his brothers run the Circle M. He’s looking forward to some hard work, but also peace and quiet—until Caroline Donnelly hijacks his ranch for her program to help troubled teens.
Now he’s got unruly kids to deal with, a thousand chores and a growing attraction to Caroline that he isn’t sure he wants to deny. But Ford has nothing to offer a hometown girl. He has to return to his job in the city at some point soon—his brothers depend on that outside income to keep the ranch afloat. So why can’t Ford get the idea of a Wyoming wife, and coming home for good, off his mind?
He gazed at her in the cool blue twilight.
“You don’t live out at your dad’s ranch these days?”
“Um...no. I have a place in Bisons Creek, the top floor of the old Curry house. Remember it?”
“Sure. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought you’d be living at home.”
“No, Ford. I grew up and moved out.”
His jaw tightened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“Like you are?”
He held his hands out from his sides. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re clearly not happy to be showing me around. I was going to apologize, but that’ll take more of your valuable time.” She jolted down the steps and stalked past him.
“Caroline, wait. Caroline!” Ford caught up with her, grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Don’t run away.”
Breathing hard, she glared at him. “I am not running away. I’m trying to give you the distance you so obviously want.” She hated that saying it hurt enough to sting her eyes with tears. “Let. Me. Go.” She jerked her arm, trying to get free.
His fingers didn’t loosen around her wrist. “I’m not letting go, so calm down. It’s like fighting with a butterfly.”
She stopped, appalled. “I am not a butterfly.”
“No, you’re a really beautiful woman who’s driving me crazy.”
Her jaw dropped open in shock. She closed it, then swallowed hard. “What did you say?”
Dear Reader (#ulink_4ac3715b-e1c2-54c0-9461-1f2d884b3335),
One of the best parts of writing fiction is being able to create the setting for your characters. You can put them into a world of glitz and glamour or, as I prefer, into a small town at the foot of Wyoming’s Big Horn Mountains. You can make them cowboys with horses to ride and cattle to herd and a ranch to take care of spread out under the wide blue sky of the high plains. You can write about the importance of family and friends, community and faith, commitment and integrity. And there’s nothing sexier than a man in jeans, boots and a cowboy hat.
Take the Marshall brothers—four cowboys bound by their ties to each other and to the land. There’s trouble on the Circle M Ranch this summer and it will take all of them, working together, to handle it. Ford’s story unfolds in A Wife in Wyoming, as he reconnects with the hometown girl he never forgot. He wasn’t good enough for Caroline Donnelly in the old days, but he’s changed. And so, it turns out, has she. Will those changes bring them closer together, or push them further apart?
I hope you enjoy getting to know the Marshalls and their world. I love to hear from readers—please feel free to send a note to PO Box 204, Vass, NC 28394, or contact me through my website, lynnettekentbooks.com (http://www.lynnettekentbooks.com/).
As ever,
Lynnette Kent
A Wife in Wyoming
Lynnette Kent
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LYNNETTE KENT lives on a farm in southeastern North Carolina with her six horses and six dogs. When she isn’t busy riding, driving or feeding animals, she loves to tend her gardens and read and write books.
Contents
Cover (#ubdf3fc87-1cce-583e-9ead-ed69ccc26c64)
Back Cover Text (#u271cbb53-92c4-5a6d-9d73-d4d0a0ab67ad)
Introduction (#u3ff7a20e-f2d1-5434-8229-b8d500e8b673)
Dear Reader (#ulink_96f6765f-e1b4-5660-a953-2ebf949a12a2)
Title Page (#u25b7b15f-05e2-5e86-937a-d94a5c76efde)
About the Author (#udafbda00-554e-5a2b-92f1-f712f81ec73a)
Chapter One (#ulink_750a4491-5e1f-5c0a-870b-49a51fb16e02)
Chapter Two (#ulink_9f0fb3e2-8ac0-50fd-aef6-ae7d5942d8f4)
Chapter Three (#ulink_2a8225ec-30ac-5159-bf6f-287a48de6165)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_83879765-822b-57f3-b910-54b62ebae669)
There was trouble on the Circle M Ranch, and Ford Marshall had come to take care of it. His brothers were doing their best, but when problems arose, the four Marshall boys handled them together. Always had, always would.
Ford had driven more than a thousand miles in the past two days, with only the last fifty left to go. Still, he pulled over at the top of the final descent, got out of the truck and went to stand on the edge of a five-hundred-foot drop. He stared down at the Powder River Valley laid out below, where the slopes of the Big Horn Mountains gave way to rolling, grass-covered plains. The landscape was as familiar to him as the palm of his hand, and just as vital.
How long, Ford wondered, since he’d enjoyed this view?
Fifteen years, probably—the summer after high school graduation, when he’d helped herd cattle down to lower pasture before heading off to college. He’d returned to visit since, but not at this time of year. Summer jobs, classes, internships, law school...he’d been busy then, and he’d been even busier since he’d joined one of the biggest firms in San Francisco and started working his way up.
For now, though, he was home—not forever, not even for the whole summer. But with time enough to stand here as the sun set behind him, tinting the valley blue and purple. Time enough to pull the fresh air into his lungs and listen to the evening breeze rustle through the pines.
Time. The one commodity he didn’t have in his portfolio these days.
Ford headed back to the truck, started the engine and eased onto the empty highway, heading downhill. His law partners weren’t happy about the leave of absence. His clients... Hell, his clients were furious. He’d jeopardized his career—plus the security and status it provided—to take these weeks off.
But family came first. And so he coasted down from the mountains and breezed south out of Buffalo toward their little town of Bisons Creek, where he headed up the county road to the one place that he still, after all these years away, called home.
* * *
AT THE HOUSE the screened front door stood wide open to the night air. Ford crossed the porch and stepped into the dark living room. “Anybody home?”
A woof! and the scrabble of dog claws on the plank floor announced the approach of Honey, the chubby golden retriever who’d been the ranch’s top dog for the past ten years.
“Hey there, Honey Bear.” He bent to ruffle her ears and scratch her along her spine as she circled in front of him, panting with delight. “Yeah, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
Boot heels thudded down the hall from the rear of the house. “It’s about time you showed up.” His brother Garrett gave him a fake slug to the jaw before closing him into a bear hug. “We’ve got a million questions about this insurance stuff that nobody will answer. How was your drive?”
“Fine.” Ford drew back and lifted an eyebrow. “Where’s the boss?”
Garrett tilted his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Sulky as a bear. I’d go in with a rifle, if I were you.”
“When’s dinner?”
“When you make it.”
“Just like the old days.” Ford had started cooking for their motherless family when he was ten. “Let me talk to Wyatt first. And can we turn on some lights in this house?”
“Leave it to you to get us organized.” Garrett flipped a switch and the living room became visible. Welcoming.
“That’s better.” As Ford started toward his older brother’s room, Honey slipped ahead of him to lead the way. The lights were off at the far end of the hall, which was strange so early in the evening. Who the hell was running this place?
He reached for a lamp just inside the bedroom door and switched it on. “Hey, Boss. No self-respecting rancher is asleep at 8:00 p.m.”
“No self-respecting rancher gets thrown from a horse, lands on his butt and breaks his damn back.” Wyatt put up a hand from where he lay flat in bed. “Welcome home.”
His brother’s hearty grip allowed Ford to relax a little. “Thanks.”
But Wyatt was frowning. “You didn’t have to leave your job, though. Garrett and Dylan are managing okay.”
“Yeah, right,” Garrett said from the door. “The two of us finish about half of what you did on your own in a single day. No problems there.”
“The work’ll get done.”
“It will get done faster with more hands to help.”
There was an edge to his brother’s tone, and Ford gathered they’d had this argument before. “We’ll manage the chores, one way or the other. Right now I’m more interested in food. What do you feel like, Wyatt?”
“I’m not hungry.” He’d turned his face toward the TV flickering in the corner.
“You’re always hungry.”
“Not when I spend the whole damn day in bed.” A metal brace was sprawled across the dresser, conspicuously unused.
“Okay. I’ll figure it out and bring you a plate.”
“Don’t bother.”
In the kitchen Ford raised an eyebrow as he met Garrett’s eyes. “How long has he been this way?”
“Ten days since he came home from the hospital. Won’t take the pain pills they gave him, just lies there except when he has to pee.”
“I should have been here sooner.” He moved toward the refrigerator. “You should have called right away.”
“I didn’t know the injury would get him so down.”
Ford pulled four T-bone steaks out of the freezer and headed for the oven. “He won’t use the brace?”
“I can’t convince him to put it on. I guess he’s planning to lie in bed until he stops hurting.”
“Not a chance. We’ll get him on his feet. Right now find me some potatoes.”
In thirty minutes he’d prepared four steak dinners, the task as familiar as if he still did it every night, instead of twice a year. He debated cutting Wyatt’s meat up, but decided he didn’t want the food thrown at him.
He returned to his brother’s room. “Dinner’s ready.”
“I said I’m not hungry.” But Wyatt’s stomach betrayed him, gurgling loud enough to be heard outside the house.
Ford laughed. “I know the truth when I hear it. Come out and eat at the table like a man.”
His older brother glared at him from under lowered brows. “You’re making trouble.”
“You’re being a pain in the butt.”
Wyatt swore, loudly, but he rolled to the side of the bed and then off, landing carefully on his knees. Pushing up with his hands, he straightened his legs before he could finally lever his top half upright.
Ford picked up the metal brace. “That’s quite a process.”
