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She had the whimsical thought that he was deliberately dressing the part of the bad guy, all in black, but the idea fled at once. There was nothing the least bit whimsical about Grady. He was quiet and intense and mysterious.
The latter was a bit more of a problem than she’d anticipated when he first came to pay his respects after Caleb’s death. Karen had always liked unraveling puzzles, and Grady was the most complicated one she’d ever run across. Unfortunately, sifting through clues, ferreting out motives took time, time she didn’t dare spend with her husband’s longtime enemy.
She could just imagine the disapproval of Caleb’s parents, if they heard she was spending time with Grady Blackhawk. Word would reach them, too. She had no doubts about that. Most of the people in the area were far closer to the Hansons, who’d lived here for decades, than they were to Karen, who was still regarded as a newcomer even after ten years as Caleb’s wife. The phone lines between here and Tucson would be burning up as the gossip spread.
“I thought I had made it clear that I have nothing to say to you,” she told Grady stiffly, refusing to step aside to admit him. Better to allow the icy air into the house than this man who could disconcert her with a look.
This man, with his jet-black hair and fierce black eyes, was now her enemy, too. It was something she’d inherited, right along with a failing ranch.
She wished she understood why Grady was so desperate to get his hands on this particular ranch. He had land of his own in a neighboring county—plenty of it from what she’d heard. But there was something about Hanson land that obsessed him.
Over the years he—and his father before him—had done all he could to steal the Hanson land. Not that he wasn’t willing to pay. He was. But, bottom line, he wanted something that wasn’t rightfully his, and he intended to get it by fair means or foul.
According to Caleb, Grady had no scruples, just a single-minded determination. He’d tried to buy up their note at the bank, but fortunately, the bank president was an old family friend of Caleb’s father. He had seen the paperwork, foiled the attempt, then dutifully rushed to report everything to the Hansons. That much was fact.
In addition—and far more damning—Caleb had been all but certain Grady was behind a virus that had infected half their herd the previous year. He had also blamed Grady for a fire that had swept through pastureland the year before that, destroying feed and putting the entire herd at risk.
There had been no proof, of course, just suspicions, which Karen had never entirely bought. After all, Grady had been waiting in the wings, checkbook in hand, after each incident. Would he have been foolish enough to do that if he’d been behind the acts in the first place? Wouldn’t he know that he’d be the first person to fall under suspicion? Or hadn’t he cared, as long as he got his way?
“I think it would be in both our interests to talk,” he said, regarding her with the intense gaze that always disquieted her.
“I doubt that.”
He ignored her words and her pointed refusal to back away from the door. “I’ve made no secret over the years of the fact that I want this land.”
“That’s true enough.” She regarded him curiously. “Why this land? What is it about this particular ranch that made your father and now you hound the Hansons for years?”
“If you’ll allow me to come inside, I’ll explain. Perhaps then you won’t be so determined to fight me on this.”
Karen’s sense of fair play and curiosity warred with her ingrained animosity. Curiosity won. She stepped aside and let him enter. He removed his hat and hung it on a peg, then took a seat at the table. She took comfort in the fact that he didn’t remove his coat. He clearly wouldn’t be staying long.
His intense gaze swept the room, as if taking stock, then landed on the scattered brochures.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, studying her with surprise. “I didn’t think you had the money to be taking off for Europe.”
“I don’t,” she said tightly, wondering how he knew so much about her finances. Then again, just about everyone knew that she and Caleb had been struggling. “My friends do. They’re encouraging me to take a vacation.”
“Are you considering it?”
“Not with you circling around waiting for me to make a misstep that will cost me the ranch.”
He winced at that. “I know how your husband felt about me, but I’m not your enemy, Mrs. Hanson. I’m trying to make a fair deal. You have something I want. I have the cash to make your life a whole lot easier. It’s as simple as that.”
“There is nothing simple about this, Mr. Blackhawk. My husband loved this ranch. I don’t intend to lose it, especially not to the man he considered to be little better than a conniving thief.”
“A harsh assessment of a man you don’t know,” he said mildly.
“It was his assessment, not mine. Caleb was not prone to making quick judgments. If he distrusted you, he had his reasons.”
“Which you intend to accept blindly?”
It was her turn to wince. Loyalty was one thing, but her sense of fair play balked at blindly accepting anything.
“Persuade me otherwise,” she challenged. “Convince me you had nothing to do with the attempts to destroy our herd, that your intentions were honorable when you tried to buy up the note on the land.”
He didn’t seem surprised by the accusations. He merely asked, “And then you’ll sell?”
“I didn’t say that, but I will stop labeling you as a thief if you don’t deserve it.”
He grinned at that, and it changed him from somber menace to charming rogue in a heartbeat. Karen nearly gasped at the transformation, but she wouldn’t allow herself to fall prey to it. He hadn’t proved anything yet. She doubted he could.
“If I tell you that none of that is true, not even the part about the mortgage, would you believe me?” Grady asked.
“No.”
“What would it take?”
“Find the person responsible.”
He nodded. “Maybe I will. In the meantime, I’m going to tell you a story,” he said in a low, easy, seductive tone.
His voice washed over Karen, lulling her as if it were the start of a bedtime story. She was tired enough to fall asleep listening to it, but she sat up rigidly, determined not to display any sign of weakness in front of this man.
“Generations ago this land belonged to my ancestors,” Grady began. “It was stolen from them.”
“Not by me,” she said heatedly, responding not just to the accusation but to the fact that she’d dared to let down her guard for even a split second. “Nor my husband.”
He seemed amused by her quick retort. “Did I say it had been? No, this was years and years ago, before your time or mine. It was taken by the government, turned over to homesteaders. White homesteaders,” he said pointedly. “My ancestors were driven onto reservations, while people like the Hansons took over their land.”
Karen was aware that much had been done to the Native Americans that was both heartless and wrong. She sympathized with Grady Blackhawk’s desire to right an old wrong, but she and Caleb—or, for that matter, Caleb’s parents and grandparents—weren’t the ones to blame. They had bought the land from others, who, in turn, had simply taken advantage of a federal policy.
“You’re asking me to make amends for something I had no part in,” she told him.
“It’s not a matter of paying an old debt that isn’t yours. It’s a matter of doing what’s right because you’re in a position to do so. And I certainly don’t expect you just to give the land to me because I say it rightfully belongs to my family. I’ll pay you a fair price for it, same as anyone else would. I guarantee it will be far more than what was paid for it all those years ago.”
Before she could stop him, he named an amount that stunned her. It would be enough to pay off all their debts and leave plenty for her to start life over again back in Winding River, where she’d be with friends. It was tempting, more tempting than she’d imagined. Only an image of Caleb’s dismay steadied her resolve. Keeping this ranch was the debt she owed to him. She could never turn her back on that.
“I’m not interested in selling,” she said with finality.
“Not to me or not to anyone?” Grady asked with an edge to his voice.
“It hardly matters, does it? I won’t sell this ranch.”
“Because you love it so much?” he asked with a note of total disbelief in his voice.
“Because I can’t,” she responded quietly.
He seemed startled by the response. “It’s not yours to sell?”
“Technically, yes. But I owe it to my husband to stay here, to do what he would have done, if he hadn’t died so prematurely. This ranch will stay in Hanson hands as long as I have any control over it.”
For a moment, he looked taken aback, but not for long. His gaze locked with hers, he said, “I’ll keep coming back, Mrs. Hanson, again and again, until you change your mind or until circumstances force your hand. This place is wearing you down. I can see it.” He gestured toward the brochures. “Obviously so can your friends. Make no mistake, I’ll own the land…no doubt before the year is out.”
His arrogant confidence stirred her temper. “Only if hell freezes over,” she said, snatching the back door open and allowing a blast of wintry air into the room as she waited pointedly for him to take the hint and leave.
His gaze never wavered as he plucked his hat off the hook and moved past her. He paused just outside and a smile tugged at his lips. “Keep a close eye on the weather, Mrs. Hanson. Anything’s possible.”
Chapter Two
Grady hadn’t expected Karen Hanson to be as stubborn or as foolish as her husband. After the funeral he’d made a few calls to test the waters, but he had deliberately waited six months before going to see her. He’d wanted to give her time to see just how difficult her life was going to be. He’d guessed that by now she would be eager to get rid of a ranch that was clearly draining whatever reserves of cash she had. Obviously he’d misjudged her. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
More disconcerting than the discovery that she wasn’t going to be a pushover was the realization that she got to him. Those big blue eyes of hers had been swimming with tears when she’d opened the door. Her flushed cheeks had been streaked with them. Her lips had looked soft…and disturbingly kissable. He’d had an almost irresistible urge to gather her in his arms and offer comfort. For a hard man with little sympathy for anyone, it had been an uncharacteristic reaction that made him uneasy.
He grinned as he imagined her reaction to that. If he’d even tried to touch her, no matter how innocently, she probably would have grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the door and clobbered him with it.
Even so, he hadn’t been able to shake that image of lost vulnerability. A lot of women who worked ranches side by side with their husbands grew hard, their muscles well formed, their skin burnished bronze by the sun. By contrast, Karen Hanson’s body was soft and feminine, her skin as pale as milk. The thought of that changing because she had to struggle to keep her ranch afloat bothered him for reasons that went beyond her refusal to give in and sell out to him.
He couldn’t help wondering what drove a woman like Karen Hanson. Well…loyalty to her husband, for one thing. There was no question about that. Pride. Stubbornness. He sighed. He was back to that again. It was hard to fight with someone who’d dug in her heels in defiance of logic.
But what did she long for beyond the travel that those brochures implied? In his experience most women wanted love, a family, the things he hadn’t had time for in his own life. Some wanted a meal ticket. Some had a mile-wide independent streak, needing little more than the occasional companionship of a man to make them content. Those were the ones who appealed to Grady. He had so many family obligations to the past, he didn’t have time to think about the future.
He tried to fit Karen Hanson into a tidy little niche, but she wouldn’t stay put. She was independent, no doubt about it, but her determination to fight her husband’s old battles said a lot about how she felt about family. Ironically, that very loyalty, every bit as strong as his own commitment to his ancestors, was likely to stand in his way.
He had derided himself on the trip home for trying to analyze the woman based on a half-hour meeting that had been rife with tension. He knew better. His grandfather—the single greatest influence in his life—believed in the necessity for walking a mile in another man’s moccasins before reaching conclusions about the choices they made. Thomas Blackhawk had tried to instill that same wisdom in Grady.
Unfortunately, Grady wasn’t usually capable of the patience required. He tended to make snap judgments. He asked straight questions, liked straight answers.
“And look where that got you today,” he muttered wryly. His grandfather would have been appalled, especially by the unveiled threat he had uttered on his way out the door.
He spent the evening taking stock, both of his own behavior and Karen Hanson’s responses to it. Unfortunately, there was little definitive information to go on. She was beautiful, stubborn, hardworking and loyal. He’d gotten that, but not much more, certainly nothing about the best way to handle her.
There was only one way to remedy that. He needed to spend more time with her. He had to discover what made the woman tick, what her hopes and dreams were now that her husband was gone.
And how he could use it to his own advantage, he reminded himself sharply, when the image of her in his bed stole over him. He was going to have to keep that image at bay, he warned himself.
He’d spent his whole life working toward a single goal—getting that land back for his family. His great-grandfather had instilled a desire for retribution in his son, Grady’s grandfather. The mission had been passed down to the next generation, and finally to Grady himself.
That land, part of his Native American heritage, part of a time when his ancestors had had no rights at all, was Blackhawk land. He couldn’t let anything—not even a woman as desirable as Karen Hanson—distract him from getting it back while his grandfather was still alive to savor the triumph.
He chuckled dryly as he imagined how she was going to react to any attempt on his part to get to know her. She’d probably shoot him on sight if he showed up at the ranch again, especially if she guessed that his mission was to find her weaknesses and exploit them.
For once he was going to have to follow his grandfather’s advice and rely on patience and maybe a little subterfuge to get what he wanted. There were a lot of chores around that ranch that needed doing. Karen struck him as a pragmatic woman. If he simply appeared one day and went to work, steering clear of her for the most part, would she run him off or accept the help because she knew she needed it? He was counting on the latter. Maybe over time, she would get used to his presence, come to accept it and allow him a little insight into her soul.
Grady lifted his beer in a silent toast to the ingenuity of his plan. By this time tomorrow he intended to have taken his first steps in Karen Hanson’s shoes.
Of course, he admitted ruefully, it remained to be seen if he’d live to tell about it.
“Why not sell to him?” Gina asked as the Calamity Janes sat in the ranch kitchen eating pasta that she had prepared. The room was filled with the rich scent of garlic and tomato and basil. A plate of garlic bread had been all but demolished and there were only a few strands of spaghetti left in the huge bowl she had prepared for the five old friends.
Karen had put out an urgent call for their help within minutes of Grady Blackhawk’s departure. She was counting on the Calamity Janes to give her advice and to keep her mind off the disconcerting effect his visit had had on her. Selling to Grady was not the advice she’d been expecting. She’d been hoping for some clever way to sidestep his determination permanently. That warning of his was still ringing in her ears.
“How can I sell to Grady?” Karen asked. “Caleb hated him. It would be the worst kind of a betrayal. And it would break his parents’ hearts. Even though they’ve moved, they still think of this ranch as home.”
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life struggling to keep the ranch afloat for two people who will never come back here? This place is a nostalgic memory for the Hansons. For you, it’s nothing but backbreaking work,” Cassie pointed out. “Don’t forget, you were relieved when your own parents sold out and moved to Arizona. You said you’d never set foot on a ranch again.” She grinned. “Of course, that was five minutes before you met Caleb, and from that moment on, all bets were off. You claimed to each and every one of us that you had always wanted to be a rancher’s wife.”
Karen frowned at the well-meant reminder. “No, to be perfectly honest, you’re right. I don’t want to be a rancher. I never did,” she admitted. “But—”
Cassie cut her off. “Then consider Grady’s offer if it’s a fair one. Caleb would understand.”
But Karen knew he wouldn’t. The kind of enmity he had felt for Grady Blackhawk was deep and eternal. It was an emotional, gut-deep hatred that couldn’t be abandoned in favor of practicality or sound business reasons or even sheer exhaustion, which was what she was beginning to feel as the endless days wore on.
“Okay, if the issue really comes down to keeping this place away from Grady Blackhawk, then I’ll buy the ranch,” Lauren said, drawing laughter.
“And what would you do with a ranch?” Karen asked, trying to imagine the big-screen superstar mucking out stalls or castrating bulls or any of the other backbreaking tasks required by ranching.
“You seem to forget that I grew up on a ranch, same as you,” Lauren replied with a touch of indignation. “In fact, nobody around here had a better way with horses than I did.”
“That was a long time ago. Somehow it’s hard to picture now. It doesn’t quite work with the glamorous image you’ve created in Hollywood,” Cassie said.
Lauren scowled. “It could work if I wanted to make it work. This glamour stuff is highly overrated.”
Karen thought she heard an increasingly familiar note of dissatisfaction in her friend’s voice. She’d heard it when Lauren was home for the reunion, and it had continued to pop out from time to time on her return visits.
The fact that those return visits, even under the guise of checking up on Karen, were happening more and more frequently was telling. Lauren had done only one film in the past six months and turned down half a dozen offers. Compared to the pace of her career in the past, that was darned close to retirement.
“Okay, Lauren, spill it,” Karen ordered. “What are you not telling us? Are you getting tired of being the multimillion-dollar superstar?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Lauren said with a touch of defiance. “And you needn’t look so shocked. I never intended to be an actress. I certainly never thought I’d be famous for my looks. I was the brainy one, remember? I wore glasses and had freckles and hair that wouldn’t quite do what I wanted it to. I still do. Do you know that without my contacts and makeup and with my hair air-dried instead of styled, I can actually walk into a supermarket and no one looks twice at me?”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Karen asked. She had never been able to grasp how a woman as private and shy as Lauren had always been had learned to cope with fame.
“Yes, but it just proves how shallow the rest of my life is,” Lauren said. “It’s all built on lies. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not whining.”
“Yes, you are,” they all said in a chorus, followed by laughter.
“Okay, maybe a little. I just want something more.”
“A ranch?” Karen asked skeptically.
Lauren’s expression set stubbornly. “Maybe.”
Karen shook her head. “Let me know when you make up your mind for sure. Until then, I think I’ll just hang on to this place.”
“You know what I think?” Emma said, her too-perceptive gaze studying Karen intently. “I think Karen’s just holding out so she can keep this Grady Blackhawk coming around.” A grin spread across her face. “Have you seen this man? I remember him from the funeral. He is seriously gorgeous. All dark and brooding, with trouble brewing in his eyes.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Karen insisted, but she had. God help her, she had.
“Liar,” Emma accused. “You’d have to be blind not to notice.”
