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“Tenderfoot,” Shane muttered to himself as he rode back to the ranch. Laura Walker, slim and fragile-looking, didn’t strike him as a woman who’d be a happy camper out on the range.
He’d cooperate as promised, but he hoped her mustang studies, whatever they were, wouldn’t take long. He had enough problems without shepherding a greenhorn around—the major one being his fear of losing his custody battle.
“You know I prefer leaving a child in the home she’s accustomed to,” Judge Rankin had told him last week. “But, face it, Shane, there’s no woman in your household. The child’s father has remarried and he and his wife offer a stable environment for the little girl.”
“The ranch is a good environment,” Shane had protested, deliberately misunderstanding.
Judge Rankin had given him a level look. “If you were married, I’d have no problem.”
Shane pressed the gelding into a lope. Married? Not a hope. Not ever again. He’d sworn off it.
After driving along several unmarked gravel roads, Laura pulled into the small oasis surrounding the Bearclaw ranch house. Her brother had told her the desert soil was fertile, all it needed was water and anything would grow. The greenery around the house proved him right. Besides the flowering shrubs near the house foundation, massive cottonwoods shaded the long, low building, testifying to how long people had lived in this spot.
As she left the car, she saw the neat green rows of a fenced-in vegetable garden. Otherwise the yard was left as the desert intended, with no lawn for water to be wasted on. Outbuildings in back included a barn with an attached corral. The house itself was adobe brick with a tile roof.
Before she reached the front door, it opened and a dark-haired girl of about nine or ten stood framed in the doorway. Unlike Shane, she had hazel eyes.
“Hi,” she said, “I’m Sage. You must be Ms. Walker. Shane said you were coming today, and I’ve been waiting. Grandfather has, too, but he doesn’t get antsy like me. You’re lots prettier than I thought you’d be.”
Shane’s daughter? Laura smiled at her. “Then I guess you couldn’t have expected very much.”
“Please come in,” Sage said, stepping aside so Laura could enter.
Ushered into a pleasantly uncluttered living room, Laura chose an attractively decorated leather chair to sit in.
“I made iced tea,” Sage told her. “Would you like some? It’s real tea, not out of a jar ’cause Grandfather hates instant stuff.”
“Thank you, I would,” Laura told her, touched by the little girl’s effort to be a good hostess.
It then occurred to her that the child might actually be the only hostess in the house. She hadn’t mentioned a mother, only a grandfather.
A carving of a horse—surely a wild mustang—on the mantel of the stone fireplace caught Laura’s eye. She rose to take a closer look and was admiring how well the carver seemed to have captured the mustang spirit when Sage came back with a tray.
“This horse is beautiful,” she told the girl.
Sage nodded. “Shane says he senses what animal is in the wood before he starts carving. Grandfather says that’s the mark of a medicine man. So now Shane’s learning all that medicine stuff.”
She set the tray carefully on a polished slab of wood masquerading as a coffee table and offered a paper napkin and a glass to Laura. “Do you take sugar or sweetener?” she asked. “’Cause I didn’t put any in, in case you don’t.”
“This is how I like my tea,” Laura said, resuming her seat, trying to integrate the scowling man who’d rescued her with the obviously sensitive sculptor.
“I like lots of sugar,” Sage confided. “So does Grandfather.”
As if that was a cue, a gray-haired older man, still ramrod straight, entered the room. His hair, like Shane’s, was long and tied back. His shrewd, dark eyes fixed on Laura.
“Grandfather,” Sage said, “this is Ms. Walker.”
The old man nodded. “Howell Bearclaw,” he told her. “I don’t like being called mister, and I don’t like being called Howell much, either. I prefer Grandfather. To us, that’s a title of respect.” Unexpectedly, he grinned at her.
“You don’t have to call me that till you find something about me to respect. What’ll we call you?”
She smiled. “I like being called Laura.”
Sage handed him a glass of tea. He tasted it, nodded in approval, and took the chair opposite Laura’s.
“You’ve come to count the wild horses on our land,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not exactly. My government grant is for determining the overall health of the mustang herds. Nevada, and your reservation, is my first stop. Later, I’ll be doing the same thing in the other states where they range. The Bureau of Land Management estimates Nevada has 22,500 of the 42,000 wild horses in the West.”
He grunted. “At least you don’t call them estrays like the BLM. What kind of word is that? Wild is wild.”
Recalling the stallion, Laura had to agree. Government agencies like the BLM had their own names for things, but wild was most certainly wild.
“My grandson’s going to ride out with you,” he said.
Though it wasn’t a question, Laura nodded. “I hope he doesn’t mind.” Thinking about her meeting with Shane, she was none too sure he was happy about it.
“He’s no grandson of mine if he doesn’t jump at the chance to escort a pretty woman,” Grandfather said.
“I already told her she was pretty,” Sage put in. “She’s nice, too.”
“Must be smart, too, to get that grant.”
Laura was somewhat taken aback at the turn of conversation—almost as though she weren’t there.
Sage turned to her and asked, “Are you married?”
Since there was no reason not to answer, Laura replied, “No, I’m not.” She didn’t add that she never would be, either. That was none of their business.
Sage and her grandfather exchanged a look.
What on earth is all this about? Laura asked herself.
“That makes three of us,” Grandfather said.
Sage giggled. “I’m too young to be married.”
Grandfather frowned at her. “And I suppose you figure I’m too old.”
They both gazed at Laura. What did they expect her to say? Like Goldilocks, that her age was just right?
“Marriage isn’t on my agenda,” she said flatly.
“We are not behaving like proper hosts,” Grandfather said. “We’ve embarrassed our guest by asking a personal question.”
“I’m sorry,” Sage said. “It’s just that Laura’s so pretty I thought she must be married.”
They were at it again, talking about her as if she weren’t in the same room. Though she was inclined to like both of them, she found this trait disturbing. She doubted it was a Paiute custom.
“We are alone too much, Laura,” Grandfather said, this time addressing her directly.
“Yes,” Sage chimed in. “So will you forgive us?”
“I wasn’t offended,” she assured them.
“He’s coming,” Grandfather said. “I’ll go out and take care of Cloud.” Looking at Sage, he added, “You stay and entertain our guest.” He left the room.
Though Laura presumed he meant Shane, she hadn’t heard anything to indicate Shane’s immediate arrival.
“You didn’t ask me what grade I’m in and where I go to school,” Sage told her.
“Should I have?”
Sage shook her head. “Most people do. It gets boring ’cause they don’t really care. Grandfather says never ask a question unless you really want to hear the answer. But then it usually turns out that the questions you want to ask are personal, and people don’t want to answer them.”
Laura took this as a roundabout apology. “Yes, that’s a real bummer, isn’t it?”
She was rewarded with a brilliant smile. “As soon as I heard you were coming, I knew I was going to like you,” Sage said.
“I didn’t know you existed until I got here, but now that we’ve met, I hope we’ll get to know one another better.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” Sage raised her head as though listening. “Here comes Shane.” She gazed expectantly at the entrance to the living room.
Only then did Laura hear booted footsteps.
“Excuse me, I have to talk to Grandfather,” Sage said, rising and darting from the room.
Leaving me to face the ogre alone, Laura thought, setting down her empty glass.
In walked Shane, even more impressively masculine than Laura had remembered—stiffening her resolve not to let him intimidate her. Attractive, yes, but that didn’t make him any more appealing to her.
Shane eyed Laura, sitting up straight with her feet crossed ladylike at the ankles, her dressy pantsuit neat, despite the untidy rescue. A city girl. He groaned inwardly, knowing he was stuck with her for at least a month, maybe more. Yeah, she was pretty in her own quiet way, but that wouldn’t make his nursemaid task any easier.
“I was remiss in not immediately thanking you for rescuing me,” Laura said primly.
The way she said it made him feel she didn’t like him any the better for saving her life.
“We’re both lucky it worked,” he said bluntly.
Laura nodded, wishing he’d sit down. It made her nervous to be loomed over.
“Shall we discuss what kind of a schedule would best suit you?” she asked. “I’m quite flexible.”
“Let’s make sure I know what you want from me.”
“I’d like to borrow a horse to ride, if that’s possible,” she said. At his nod, she continued. “Since this is your home territory, I hope you’ll be able to locate the herds on the reservation for me so I can count the horses and get an overall impression of their health.”
“First—you do understand that mustangs make no distinction between reservation land, BLM land, or privately owned ranch land? They aren’t ‘our’ horses, they’re free-ranging.”
“I’m quite aware of that, but I understand at least two herds seem to spend most of their time on Paiute land.” Laura was congratulating herself on her businesslike approach despite her nervousness, when Sage popped into the room.
“Grandfather has asked me to invite you to stay here at the ranch with us,” Sage said to Laura. “Please say you will. We have lots of room, and it’ll be way more convenient for you. Otherwise, you’ll have to drive back and forth from Reno all the time.”
Though taken aback, Laura noticed Shane seemed even more surprised than she was at the invitation.
Before Laura could respond, Sage added plaintively, “I really wish you’d stay here, so we could get to know each other better, like you said.”
Sympathy for Sage’s need for female company shot down Laura’s instinctive refusal before the words passed her lips. She understood what it was to be lonely.
Shane frowned at Sage. “I don’t think Ms. Walker would want to—”
Laura cut him off. “Please tell your grandfather I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness,” she said to the girl. “If Mr. Bearclaw here approves, I accept the kind offer.”
Privately, she reserved her right to retreat to a Reno hotel if it proved uncomfortable to be in the same house with Shane.
“Stay, by all means,” Shane said, in such a determinedly neutral tone, that Laura knew he’d been hoping she’d refuse.
Maybe that was part of the reason she’d accepted. Certainly if he’d invited her, she never would have, though the truth was, staying at the ranch would be more convenient.
“I’ll bring my things with me when I come in the morning, then,” Laura said. Looking at Shane, she added, “What time will you be ready to ride?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Whenever you get here.”
Since Sage was so eager to play hostess, Shane let her show Laura to the door, watching her walk away despite not meaning to. She moved as gracefully as any mare, which was, coming from him, a compliment. So many women either plodded or sashayed, neither of which conveyed grace.
Without willing himself to, he wandered to the window where he’d be able to see her get into her car.
“Laura will be good company for Sage while she’s here,” Grandfather said from in back of him, having arrived soundlessly, as usual. “That’s why I told Sage to ask her to stay with us.”
Shane turned to face him. “I wondered why you hadn’t bothered to consult me.”
“Partners in running the ranch we may be, but I am still Grandfather.”
“Yes, Respected Elder.” Shane said the words with affectionate mockery.
Grandfather grinned at him. “And don’t you forget it.”
Shane had to agree that female company would be good for Sage, but he’d be willing to bet old Bearclaw had something else up his sleeve. Grandfather had the most devious mind on the res. And more than likely in the entire state of Nevada.
Still, what could be his scheme? He’d never interfered in Shane’s private life, so the fact Laura was a woman shouldn’t have anything to do with it, other than her being company for Sage, like he’d said. What then? The mustangs? The fact that she might have some sort of in with the Feds?
Shane shook his head to both possibilities. Maybe he was just imagining Grandfather planning something. What would be the point?
Chapter Two
As Laura drove back from the reservation to Reno, she told herself she shouldn’t have been swayed, by her empathy with Sage, into accepting the invitation to stay at the Bearclaw ranch. She was bound to be uncomfortable in Shane’s house. It would be difficult enough when they rode together in search of the wild horses—why had she let herself in for more awkwardness in the evenings?
Though she didn’t trust any man except her brother Nathan, Shane was typical of the kind of man who unnerved her the most. He was big and rugged and so very much there. If he was present, he couldn’t be ignored.
