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“Katie needs to order supplies, but the bill hasn’t been paid for a couple of months.”
That was odd.
“How long has it been since you’ve called your grandfather?” Katie asked him.
Was it his imagination or was that a twinge of accusation in her tone? Tough, smart, hardworking and honest, Katie also had a way with horses that could turn even the most seasoned cowpoke green with envy. Ranching was in her blood and Jon respected that. He would never say that anyone had an easy relationship with Big E, but Katie’s was about the smoothest he’d ever seen. He wasn’t quite sure how she managed it.
The phone rings both ways, he wanted to answer. But didn’t. His issues with his grandfather had nothing to do with Katie.
Holding his tongue, he looked toward Grace instead. “What do you mean you can’t get a hold of him?”
“Katie told me he’s not home.”
“Did you try his cell phone?”
“I’ve been trying it for over a week now.”
A week? A ripple of concern trotted up his spine. Jon hadn’t known Big E had plans to go anywhere. But he didn’t exactly keep himself up-to-date with the comings and goings of his grandfather and his stepgrandmother, Zoe. In a general sense, Jon did his dead-level best to stay away from Big E’s fifth wife, while he and Big E’s relationship might be described as cordial on a good day and tense on its worst. Thinking back, it had been at least a week since he’d spoken to Big E. And that conversation, like most of their communications, had been ranch-related.
“Huh. Well, Katie, where is he? How long has it been since you’ve spoken to him? Or your dad?”
Katie inhaled a breath, held it for a couple of seconds and then let it out. “I don’t know where he is. Dad hasn’t spoken to him.”
That troubling feeling gathered a head of steam and galloped headlong through his bloodstream.
“I’m sorry, Jon.” Grace’s pained expression seemed a perfect reflection of what he was feeling. “Your grandfather, it seems, has gone missing.”
* * *
“LYDIA NEWBURY, LYDIA NEW-W-BURY, Lydia New-bur-r-ry...” Lydia was practicing saying her new last name. Her biggest problem would be slipping up and saying Newton. But Tanner assured her that was the point; it was similar enough to her real name that if she did slip it would be easy to cover.
She studied the ancient map of Montana in the faded, dog-eared road atlas and wondered why—why did she continue to stare at the worn page? It wasn’t like the JB Bar Ranch was suddenly going to appear on the paper before her in the form of a little black dot like the quaint town of Billings, which unfortunately was now far, far behind her. Nor was it going to present itself as a pretty, powder blue squiggle, either, like the winding, picturesque Yellowstone River that she was traveling roughly parallel to.
The view beckoned through the windshield and pulled her focus outside the vehicle again. Awesome, these mountains, but in the truest, most uncorrupted sense of the word. She glanced back down at the map, at the mapmaker’s attempt to shade in a likeness of the Rocky Mountains. Ha. Not even a camera could do justice to these peaks jutting from the earth in all their rugged, snowcapped glory.
Philadelphia seemed light-years away. She took a second to be thankful for that and for the fact that she’d made it this far. Every mile felt like a tiny victory, a step closer to freedom.
She’d pulled over on the highway because she knew she had to be close. The turnoff was somewhere east of Livingston, but she couldn’t remember how many miles. She’d entered the ranch’s “address” into her phone at the car lot in Billings where she’d purchased the used SUV. That is if “JB Bar Ranch, Old Tractor Road, Falcon Creek, MT” could be considered a proper address. GPS had recognized the place, so she’d gone with it, but cell service had been spotty and with the constant searching for service, her battery was dead.
Tanner had handpicked this job for her and a few days ago it had seemed like the perfect solution. Working as a nanny and living on a ranch in Montana meant she was virtually untraceable. No rental agreement meant no address and no bills in her name. The perfect hiding place. A bitter chuckle slipped out of her at the irony of a hiding spot so good she couldn’t even find it.
And if she didn’t hide, Clive would find her.
As if Lydia leaving him and taking his money wasn’t bad enough, the four dollars she’d left in his bank accounts was going to push him over the edge. A fresh spike of fear left her limbs tingling. Why had she done that? In those last triumphant seconds, she’d gotten greedy. Heady with accomplishment and vengeance, the idea had come to her. A little dig to get back at him after all those months of putting up with his abuse.
“Stupid, Lydia,” she whispered and pressed a fisted hand to her mouth. At first, he’d wonder, but it wouldn’t take him long to put those twos and twos together and figure out what all those fours meant.
And he would come after her.
Like a fugitive in a crime drama, she’d been flown by a pilot friend of Tanner’s to St. Paul, Minnesota. From there, she’d taken a bus to Billings, where she’d paid cash for the used SUV. Now, nearly two days later, she had a burner phone and a vehicle with Montana plates. The signed title and bill of sale were tucked in the glove compartment. The day before she’d left Philadelphia she’d paid every bill, withdrawn all her savings and then closed her bank account. She’d shut down her social-media sites and left her credit cards lying in plastic bits in three different trash cans scattered around the city. She was safe. She trusted Tanner, would never have been able to get this far without her close friend and attorney.
So why didn’t she feel safe?
“Don’t worry, Lydia Newbury. Your worrying days are over, remember? You can do this. Inside, deep inside, you are brave and clever and honest.”
Okay, so she was pretty clever, mostly honest and trying to be brave. She really, really needed to be brave. Like right now. The idea of stopping for directions, of showing her face anywhere along this interstate, caused the already taut coil of nerves inside her to tighten.
Flipping on her turn signal, she put the atlas on the passenger seat, inhaled a deep breath and glanced in the side mirror just in time to see the flashing blue and red lights of the police vehicle as it pulled in behind her.
A surge of adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream. “Newbury, Newbury,” she repeated, reminding herself. But what if he asked for her ID? This plan hinged on Lydia not using her real name.
In her rearview mirror, she watched a tall lanky man in a khaki outfit get out. His hat was dark brown. She turned off the signal, lowered her window and folded her hands together in her lap so he wouldn’t see them trembling.
“Howdy, ma’am.” His tone was friendly, but his ice-blue gaze hinted at a cop’s shrewdness. When he leaned down she could see freckles sprinkled across his nose and flaming red hair beneath the hat.
“Hi, there.” Lydia dredged up her best customer-service smile.
“Did you break down?”
“No, Officer. Thankfully, I did not.”
“Then is there a reason your car is sitting here on the side of the road?”
“An embarrassing one.” Shrugging a shoulder, she flashed him a cringe-smile. “I think I might be lost. I’m on my way to a ranch where I’ve been hired for a job.”
His mouth pulled down into a frown. His name tag read Deputy Tompkin.
“Not the Blackwell Guest Ranch, I hope? They don’t open for another month or so.”
Blackwell Guest Ranch? That couldn’t be a coincidence. “Maybe. I don’t know... I thought I was looking for Jonathon Blackwell of the JB Bar Ranch.”
“Oh! Of course.” He did the finger-snap-point as his face erupted with a smile. “You’re the new nanny. Oh, man, this is great.” Sticking out a hand, he said, “Deputy Scooter Tompkin. Pleased to meet you.”
Lydia felt a rush of relief. “Lydia,” she said, not quite able to bring herself to say her new last name. Shaking his hand, she added, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Deputy.”
“I can’t wait to tell the guys I met you. Jon Blackwell is a friend of mine. And I can assure you, he is going to be one happy camper to see you arrive. He’s got his hands full, that’s for sure. My sister babysat for him for a spell. A real short one.” He shook his head. “He’s certainly in need of a professional.”
Lydia felt a niggle of concern. She knew Jonathon Blackwell had a fourteen-year-old daughter. As a single dad, she’d assumed he would need more of a shuttle service than a babysitter. She imagined days of ferrying her charge to school and various lessons and activities, providing healthy meals and snacks, and asking the requisite questions about homework completion. At least, that’s what her nannies had done. Back when she’d had them, before her parents’ divorce. The idea of a troubled teen didn’t scare her, though. Having been one, coupled with her years of volunteering at Hatch House Group Home for Teens, meant she was fluent in troubled teen.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence. I’m pretty excited about it myself. If I can figure out how to get there.”
“You’re real close and it’s easy to find. Take the next exit ahead. Follow the signs for Falcon Creek until you come to a four-way stop, where you want to go straight ahead, not into Falcon Creek. After a few miles you’ll cross a bridge. Take a right—don’t take the spur that heads east. A ways after that, there’ll be a fork. You’re going to want to go straight, but don’t. Stay right and Old Tractor Road will be off to your left. Then you’ll see the sign that says JB Bar Ranch.”
“Um, okay, can you let me grab a pen and then start over at spurs and forks?”
He chuckled. “Tell you what, follow me, and I’ll take you right to the driveway.”
“Really?” Was this guy for real? “Deputy Tompkin, I can’t tell you how much I’d appreciate that.” Lydia gave him a grateful smile, one she felt to the depths of her toes.
“Call me Scooter.”
“Wow. Okay, thank you, Scooter. You’re a lifesaver. I will find a way to repay this kindness.”
“Ah, it’s no problem. I’d do anything to help Jon.” Then he tipped his hat and said, “Welcome to Falcon Creek, Ms. Lydia.”
CHAPTER TWO (#u15f833aa-c47e-5743-b432-01c69b7ce114)
“IT’S OFFICIAL, I’M TERRIFIED of our unborn child. I know Jon’s twins are only five, but because there are two of them it’s like you can double the devious factor. No, not double—quadruple.”
Sofie was speaking to her husband, Zach, in that hushed tone people use when they’re all worked up and think they’re being quiet, when in fact the opposite is true. Jon could hear every word from where he sat on the long antique church pew that stretched nearly the length of one wall in the mudroom, the rectangular entryway adjacent to his kitchen. Since his foreman, Tom, had fixed the cattle guard, Jon had been able to medicate the calf and check on the pregnant cows and heifers. With the weather holding, he and Tom decided the generator could wait.
The opposite wall was lined with a shoe rack, two boot dryers and a series of pegs and hooks for various layers of outdoor clothing necessary when working daily in the elements of Montana—rain gear, wool jackets, parkas, hats, gloves and the like. The other end of the narrow room led to a half bath, while taking a left brought you into the kitchen.
As always, Trout sat patiently on the thick rug waiting for Jon to towel off his muddy paws and belly. Jon had heard the water running when he entered. That, mingled with the soft music from the satellite radio, the one extravagance he allowed himself, explained why Sofie and Zach hadn’t heard him yet.
He tensed at Sofie’s comments even though he knew what she said was true. His girls were out of control—“holy living terrors” their last babysitter had called them. She’d lasted three days. He did his best to tamp down the despair eating away at him like a slow-moving but persistent acid. Mercifully, some of that feeling would be alleviated today.
The sound of Zach’s chuckle made Jon smile. He removed his boots, not feeling even remotely guilty for listening in on his best friend’s conversation with his wife.
Zach said, “They remind me of Brenna and Tess. Trust me, Sofie. They’re normal. They’re growing up without a woman’s influence and thousands of acres of ranch land as their playground. They’re a little rough around the edges is all. Our kids probably will be, too. This is good practice for you.”
Even if Zach didn’t entirely mean it, Jon loved him for saying it. Brenna and Tess were Zach’s younger sisters. Not twins, but at only thirteen months apart, they might as well have been. Jon would be thrilled if his girls grew up to be like the Carnes sisters.
Sofie, on the other hand, had grown up in Seattle. Despite the fact that she seemed to be settling in well with Zach, she didn’t get it. Not really. Not in the way that someone who grew up on a ranch did. He said a silent thank-you that he didn’t have to worry about that with his new nanny.
She went on, “Oh, they’re adorable, don’t get me wrong. And they can be sweet, but so can grizzly bear cubs. That’s the problem. Cute and out of control is a dangerous combination. I found Gen in the small pasture with the cows and newborns this afternoon. Abby was literally climbing through the fence to join her when I caught up with them. All this, after I expressly forbade them from going anywhere near there. I’m getting too pregnant to keep up with them.”
“Sofie, honey, they’re fine, though, right? Nothing happened.”
“Okay, next time Jon is in a bind you’re going to watch them. It will be good practice for you. You’ll see. If one of the cows would have seen Gen as a threat...” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t even want to think about what could have happened. And the scary question is, what were they planning to do once they both got in there? Gen had a rope.”
Jon stepped into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Sofie. There won’t be any more binds, or there shouldn’t be, anyway. Not with a real nanny on the job.” The conversation illuminated why Jon had chosen this particular nanny agency. He’d been able to request specific criteria regarding his new employee. They were sending him a nanny with ranching experience.
He looked around. “Speaking of, I’m assuming she’s not here yet?”
“Nope. Hasn’t shown.” In a softer tone, she asked, “You’re sure she’s coming?”
“What, you think I’ve been blacklisted? Like there’s some sort of club or network where nannies and babysitters go to talk about their bad experiences? Stay away from those Blackwell cubs. They look cute but they’re nothing but trouble.”
Zach laughed as he crouched to give Trout a pat. “Hey, Trout. How’s the best dog in the world?” Trout’s tail went wild as he settled in next to Zach.
Sofie let out a gasp and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “You heard all of that?” Tears welled in her eyes, which made Jon feel terrible for making a joke.
“Jon, I’m so sorry. I’m awful. I didn’t mean it. They’re wonderful kids it’s just that—”
Crossing the kitchen, he wrapped her in a hug. “You’ve never been awful for even two minutes in your life, Sofie Carnes. I’m teasing. I know they can be difficult.”
“No.” Her head shook against his shoulder. “No, that was wrong. I shouldn’t have said it.” The words were muffled as she cried into his shirt. “I’m not myself. I’m a monster.”
“You’re not a monster. You’re pregnant.”
Zach grinned and mouthed a thank-you behind Sofie’s back.
Sofie lifted her head. Jon handed her a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. She stared at it.
“It’s clean, I promise.”
“I know.” Taking it from his hand, she snuffled out a laugh through her tears. “It’s just that I still can’t believe I live in a place where men use tissues made from fabric.”
Zach reached out and grabbed Sofie’s hips, turning and pulling her in close for an embrace. He kissed the top of her head.
Jon smiled, even as the love between these two generated a touch of envy. Had he ever had anything approaching that with his ex-wife? Looking back, he didn’t think so. He and Ava’s relationship had been fire and ice from the moment they’d met, one extreme or the other. They’d never seemed to find that sweet smoldering spot in between.
Zach said, “Hey, I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you at home, Sofe.”
Sofie gave him a quick kiss and stepped away. “Okay, I’ll be along in a bit. Corn bread is still in the oven.”
Jon resisted the urge to cringe at the mention of Sofie’s cooking. He told his friend goodbye and turned back to Sofie. “I need to go put in a load of laundry. I’ll be right back.”
“I could have done that. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“I didn’t have any to do earlier.” He winked at her and headed to the laundry room to put the nanny’s new sheets in the wash.
“Where are the girls?” he asked when he returned. Trout was still in the kitchen, sniffing the room’s perimeter for the customary bread-crust bits and cracker crumbs the girls regularly left behind. If Gen and Abby were anywhere nearby, the dog would be hanging out with them by now.
“Tom took them out to see the foal.” Tom was Jonathon’s foreman and only full-time employee. Since it was calving season, the bunkhouse currently lodged a few extra cowboys who worked for him seasonally. Which reminded him of Katie and the bind Big E had left her in. She’d told him one of her hands had quit, which meant she was already short on help. Although, thankfully the guest ranch employees wouldn’t be arriving for at least another month or so.
While the family’s Blackwell Ranch was both a working cattle ranch and a dude ranch, Jon’s focus was strictly on cattle. While he disliked the dude ranch, it was his grandfather’s methods regarding the cattle ranch that was the source of contention between Jon and Big E.
Which brought him back around to the information he’d learned about his grandfather earlier; Big E was AWOL. Irritation overrode the concern he’d felt in Grace’s office when Katie assured him that Big E was fine; he wasn’t technically a “missing person” by the legal definition. She just didn’t know where he was right at this moment. The week before, he and Zoe had taken off in their motorhome. This didn’t surprise him, as Zoe was always trying to talk Big E into anything that would get her away from the ranch, a ranch she was constantly trying to “improve.” Meaning, she wanted it to make more money. Jon didn’t care. What his grandfather did with Zoe was his business. But during calving season? It was the busiest time of year on a cattle ranch.
Katie had reminded him that no one could sign on the account to pay the bills except Elias or one of his grandsons. In other words, Jon or one of his four brothers had to sort this out. Unfortunately, his brothers all lived out of state. On Jon’s promise to take care of the bill, Grace had given Katie leave to purchase what she needed.
The part that chafed at Jon was that Big E had inconvenienced both him and Katie in the process. He was going to have to track down his grandfather. And in the meantime, if Big E and Zoe didn’t show up tonight, he would be forced to head over there and figure out what needed to be done so that Katie could keep things running smoothly.
Sofie was peering out the window above the sink. “Wait... Is that a car coming up the drive?”
Jon joined her. The vehicle drew closer and he could see it wasn’t a rig belonging to anyone he knew.
The nanny.
A lightness unfurled inside his chest, which had felt unbearably heavy for so long it was like he had an anvil for a heart. Maybe his girls could finally become the kids he knew they had the potential to be, have the life they deserved. Or as much of one as he could give them. What they deserved was a mom, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that.
He warned himself not to pin too much hope here. But that felt a lot like trying to push raindrops back into a storm cloud. And besides, he wouldn’t want to. He knew it was far from poetic, but he and the girls were like the parched ground after a long drought, eager and hungry to soak up every bit of life-giving water they could get. And this nanny... This nanny was the rain.
* * *
LYDIA CLIMBED OUT of the SUV and took in the sprawling, pale gray, white-trimmed home before her. Not overly large, but certainly not small, and everything looked neat and tidy and...new. Huh.
