Читать книгу Alaskan Sweethearts - Janet Tronstad - Страница 9

Chapter One

Thick clouds gathered overhead as Hunter Jacobson pressed down on the gas pedal of his pickup, determined to reach the café in Dry Creek, Montana, before his grandfather talked Scarlett Murphy out of whatever money she had in her purse. He had the windows open and leaned forward, feeling the sweat on his back. He’d never seen this Scarlett woman, but he pictured her carrying one of those worn black clutches that widows used for their grocery money. He gritted his teeth and stepped on the gas pedal harder.

“Of course, she’s not going to thank me for saving her,” he muttered, glancing down at his sole passenger, a calico barn cat who was sitting on the other side of the pickup floor licking one of her front paws. She’d gone with him to feed the cattle and he hadn’t taken time to shoo her away when he’d gotten back into the pickup moments ago. She ignored him now.

Hunter eyed the country road more closely, squinting as dust billowed up. The sky ahead was gray and the wheat fields beside the road were nothing but a blur of early fall stubble as he sped by.

He had seen the woman’s letter lying open on the table when he’d gone inside the house to get a drink of water before heading back to the fields. His grandfather’s pickup wasn’t parked in its usual spot and, since they were the only ones living on the ranch, he’d picked up the note thinking it was for him. Instead he’d read that Scarlett Murphy was to meet his grandfather this morning at the café to sign some papers he had for her. Her signature was ladylike, spiderweb thin and elegant. Nobody under seventy years of age wrote that way anymore.

Not that age was proof against his grandfather’s schemes. Hunter was thirty-three years old, but he probably wouldn’t know what to do about the old man’s mischief if he lived to be a hundred.

Hunter pulled up close to the café, then braked and turned his vehicle onto the strip of barren dirt that everyone used for parking. He pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the door all in the same smooth motion. The heat hit him as he reached back and grabbed the envelope that held the letter. He was surprised when the cat jumped out of the pickup. He’d thought her paw would still be bothering her since he’d pulled a prickly cocklebur out of it only hours ago.

He bent to pick up the feline, but she dodged his hands. The family of cats who had ruled the ranch’s barns for generations was tough. They were survivors, all of them. He decided that if this one wanted to run loose for a few minutes among the dozen or so buildings that made up the small town of Dry Creek, she wouldn’t come to any harm.

Hunter wasn’t so sure about his grandfather’s fate.

Thus far, the old man’s victims had all taken pity on him and not pressed charges once they’d been paid back. But one of these days he would trip up. The schemes had started more than twenty years ago after the car accident that had killed Hunter’s parents. Only a boy then, Hunter hadn’t paid much attention to the problems his grandfather had caused. Their neighbors had held back their complaints at first, saying they could understand how a tragedy like that could unhinge a man who was already in his sixties at the time. But those days of tolerance were long over.

His grandfather’s deals were legendary. Early on, the old man had convinced one farmer to buy a new breed of pigs, claiming they would reproduce like rabbits. They were all sterile. Then he sold a vacuum cleaner that was supposed to remove grease spots. Instead it shredded the carpet and left the stain untouched in the frayed pieces that were left. One after the other, their neighbors had been duped, and gradually the gossip had spread. Finally even the fresh eggs that Hunter’s two younger brothers had tried to sell one summer at a farmer’s market had all come home still in their crate. A rumor had started that the eggs were empty shells and no one had enough faith to even crack one open to find out.

Hunter stood in the dirt beside his pickup, the cat twining around his feet, and lifted his eyes to the darkening sky in frustration. Every man, woman and child this side of the Dakota border had been warned not to have any dealings with the Jacobson family. Hunter had thought God would take care of the old man’s inclinations after they’d both returned to the church a year ago.

Apparently—Hunter gave the sky a look of rueful reproach—it wasn’t going to be that easy.

Shaking his head, he hurried up the porch steps, reaching for the handle on the café door just as he heard a quiet motor behind him. He turned and almost stepped on the cat.

“Oops,” he apologized.

The feline gave him a sharp meow.

Then both Hunter and the cat turned to see what was coming. A sleek black car had pulled off the asphalt road that swept in from the highway. Slowly, it rolled to a stop. The windshield was tinted, but Hunter didn’t need to see inside to know a stranger was behind the wheel. Anyone who drove these roads with any regularity had dirt and mud splattered on both sides of their car, especially during this time of year when the rain came in a downpour or not at all. This car was spotless.

Not many strangers found their way into Dry Creek. This had to be Scarlett Murphy.

Hunter looked down at the envelope he held. He read the return address for the first time—Nome, Alaska. Now that was odd, he thought. His grandfather had gotten his start there as a young man in the 1950s. He’d worked a small gold mine on a trickle of running water called Dry Creek just outside the town of Nome. Located near the Bering Sea, the mine had made enough money that, when he’d left it, his grandfather had been able to buy eighty acres on the banks of a different Dry Creek in southeastern Montana. Hunter always believed his grandfather had been lonesome for Alaska when he’d bought his property down here. There was no other way to explain the coincidence of the names.

Hunter waited on the porch, the cat beside him, as a woman stepped out of the car. She didn’t turn toward the café but stared into the window of the hardware store on the opposite side of the street. The store was filled with shadows, but a person could still make out the black potbellied stove in the middle of the room and the men sitting on chairs around it talking.

Beside him, the cat started to make a noise low in its throat. Hunter couldn’t tell if it was a growl at the threat of the woman or a purr of appreciation at seeing someone so striking.

Hunter voted for the threat. The blood slowly drained out of his face as he realized he had been mistaken about Scarlett. If this woman carried a clutch, it had a designer label. Even without seeing her face, he knew she was young, not old. And he was almost certain that her last name—Murphy—was the same as the business partner in Nome who had betrayed his grandfather years ago by stealing the woman he’d loved. The growing unease Hunter had about all of this deepened. The old man had been muttering about the meaning of life lately. Maybe it wasn’t past habits that had caused this latest bit of mischief. Maybe his grandfather wanted to settle a score and get some final revenge before he died.

Lord, help us all, Hunter thought in an absentminded prayer. If his grandfather was intent on vengeance, he could cause big trouble.

Hunter could only see the woman’s back, but the graceful set of her shoulders and the halo of fiery copper hair blowing lightly around her head made her look like a Botticelli angel out for an morning stroll. The charge in the air might not all be from the upcoming lightning, he thought as he swallowed. His grandfather had said the woman who broke his heart had been stunning. This one was certainly her equal. She wore a sleeveless white silk top. Her arms were well-defined and bronzed by the sun. She put a hand up to smooth down the wayward strands of her hair and he saw a silver bracelet on her wrist. She had muscles and was, at the same time, delicate and utterly feminine.

Hunter was taking a step down from the porch when the woman turned around. He faltered. She was even more beautiful than he’d feared. Something sparkled as she lifted a silver chain that was loose around her neck and slipped it into the front of her blouse. Her face was pale and brushed with the same bronze as her arms. He couldn’t fully see the color of her eyes from where he stood, but he could sense their intensity. As best he could tell they were hazel, gold mixed with green.

That’s when he realized he could feel the smoldering heat in her eyes because she was staring at him—and not in a good way.

He looked down at his shirt. He hadn’t changed after coming in from feeding the cattle and discovering the letter. Hunter tried to casually brush the fine hay dust off of his jeans without calling too much attention to it, but there was nothing he could do about the small red stain he’d gotten from putting iodine on the scrape he’d found along the back of the milk cow this morning. His boots were scuffed but clean.

He squared his shoulders. He shouldn’t have to apologize for wearing work clothes. He was a rancher and everyone knew it. The last woman he’d come anywhere close to settling down with had called him a dirt farmer and had walked away when he’d assured her that his ranch was not as prosperous as she’d hoped. He’d had no helicopter in the shop for repairs despite what his grandfather had told her. He’d had no tuxedo at the dry cleaner’s and likely never would. He wasn’t as poor as his date had thought based on her angry, parting words, but Hunter had decided then and there not to let a woman judge him by his wallet—or his wardrobe.

He finished walking down the porch steps and stood with his legs braced for trouble. This woman dressed expensively and that was never a good sign. He wondered what she had around her neck that she felt the need to hide from him.

“Scarlett Murphy?” he called to her.

He heard another rumble in the distance and the sky over the empty street turned darker. The woman was eyeing him now as though he’d challenged her to a gunfight on the streets of an Old West town.

He smiled.

She didn’t.

The cat suddenly appeared at his feet and meowed sharply. The woman glanced down at the feline, her face softening.

“Careful of the cat,” he cautioned softly.

The family of cats that guarded the Jacobson barn didn’t know any middle ground with strangers. People were enemies until they proved to be friends. The felines didn’t mind a fight, either. That’s why Hunter didn’t usually bring any of the cats into Dry Creek with him.

The woman nodded and lifted her eyes, looking at him from the far side of her car with increasing suspicion. “I’m here to see Mr. Colin Jacobson.”

“I know,” Hunter said, careful to keep his voice steady. He didn’t want to alarm the cat, but he needed Scarlett Murphy’s cooperation. “I’d advise you to leave town without talking to him.”

“What?” The woman sounded baffled. The touch of bronze had left her face, which had turned mostly white. She looked like a fine Italian statue. “I’ve just flown two thousand miles to see him. From Alaska.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry for that.”

“He has papers for me to sign.”

Hunter pulled his wallet from his shirt pocket and took out half a dozen fifty-dollar bills. “I’ll cover your travel costs.” He turned his wallet over and got more bills from the inside flap. “Just give me a minute. I’ll send a check for the rest.”

Paying her now would be cheaper than what his grandfather had in store. Hunter always paid back the victims even if his grandfather had already spent the money. With the drought, he couldn’t keep doing it, though. It was time to end his grandfather’s mischief before they went broke.

“You most certainly will not stop me,” she protested. “I came to see Colin Jacobson and that’s what I intend to do. I’m not returning to Alaska until Monday.”

It was Saturday now.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not available.”

At least he wouldn’t be in two minutes, Hunter told himself. He’d take his grandfather back to the ranch if he had to tie him up and put him in the pickup. Sheriff Carl Wall would come and help him if he needed to make it official. The sheriff had been a good friend to Hunter over the years and knew more than most about the trouble surrounding the Jacobson family.

“But it’s the fifteenth of August,” the woman insisted. “We have an appointment.”

The realization shot through Hunter like a bullet and left him just as dazed. For the first time in all these years, he’d forgotten. Today was the anniversary of the accident that had killed his parents. It all came back in a heartbeat. He had been ten years old and had been riding in the front seat with his father. His mother and two younger brothers, in the rear, had been thrown free of the vehicle when it turned over. His grandfather, although widowed and not in the best of health, had taken him and his brothers into his home. The old man hadn’t slept those first few nights, instead going from bedroom to bedroom keeping watch over them. Hunter still remembered the sound of his grandfather’s slippers shuffling across the floor. It had made him feel safe.

Hunter was speechless. No one in the family ever talked about that day. They couldn’t.

This time he glanced down at the cat almost involuntarily and she, perhaps sensing his mood, abandoned her battle stance and stared at him with calm sympathy. His grandfather had gone out to the barn the morning after the accident and brought the ancestor of this cat into the house. He and his brothers had been mute in their grief, hugging the poor mother cat until Hunter was surprised she hadn’t scratched them and demanded release. He’d never figured out how each generation of cats knew when they were needed, but they did.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Scarlett Murphy demanded of him as she took a step forward. “Are you a real-estate agent?”

“Of course not.” Hunter came back from the past and protested automatically. He bent and scooped the cat up to his chest. This time she did not try to avoid it. He dragged his hand over her mottled orange fur to calm her. The feline was still tense, ready to bristle at the woman. No one needed to make this confrontation worse.

“Well, you’re not getting part of the property, no matter who you are.” She glared at him. “No commission. No finder’s fee. We Murphys don’t fool easy. So I’m asking again. What are you doing here?”

Hunter had his breathing under control and the cat was relaxing.

“I came to, uh, make sure no one takes advantage of you,” Hunter managed to say even though he knew it was stilted.

“You came to rescue me?” The woman focused on him even more intently. She made it sound as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “I’m not paying you for that, either.”

“Look, I don’t want any money from you,” Hunter said impatiently. “Not a dime. Just, whatever you do, don’t sign anything.”

The pink was returning to the woman’s face and with it some red. Her face was alive with indignation. She pressed her hands down on the front fender of her car and studied him as she leaned forward. “Who are you, anyway?”

“The man’s grandson.”

His full name was Colin Hunter Jacobson, but he sure didn’t want to hang that first name around his neck. Not with his grandfather’s reputation. He’d changed to using his middle name when he was eighteen. His grandfather had accepted the change without asking for an explanation.

Hunter started to turn away. It was time he called the sheriff.

But the woman wasn’t through.

“Which grandson?” she asked.

“The oldest one. Hunter.”

He turned back, wondering why she’d want to know that.

His brothers were both following the rodeo circuit, taking more risks than they should as they won all their prize money. Cash, the one next closest in age to him, rode broncos and Kurt, the youngest, took his chances on the back of raging bulls. Hunter worried about them both. He should have done more to convince them to stay home. They had both tired of their grandfather’s behavior and had left the ranch a couple of years ago. They’d said they had wanted to live someplace where they could hold their heads up high and not wonder what the problem was every time the phone rang. Hunter hadn’t blamed them for leaving once he’d heard that. He was the oldest, though; he had an obligation to the man who had raised them. Besides, he loved his grandfather.

The woman nodded then as if she understood something. A small self-satisfied smile grew on the sides of her lips as she stood straight. Not a full smile, just the hint of one forming. “You’re the one who helps him with the ranch work?”

He nodded. It was more than he could do himself, but he couldn’t afford to pay an experienced hired hand. If his brothers came back, they’d be able to make a go of it. They’d all grown up working the land and he suspected from their letters that they were almost ready to return. The shine had worn off the rodeo belt buckles and his grandfather had been well behaved lately. His brothers missed ranching. Of course, this latest scheme might change everything.

“Well,” the woman said, her voice as melodious as a bell, “I can see what the problem is then.”

Hunter’s mind snapped back to the present. “Really?”

Tiny drops of moisture were falling, but it wasn’t enough to count as rain.

She nodded. “Your grandfather thought you might be opposed to him giving my family the old place.”

Hunter frowned. “The old place? You mean the land my grandfather bought when he came down from Alaska?”

That’s what they had always called it—the old place. Where they lived now was the new place. But Scarlett Murphy wouldn’t know that.

Hunter knew for sure something was going on now. First the anniversary date and then this. His grandfather loved that piece of land. That was the house he’d brought him and his brothers to after the accident. He’d never give it up. Most of the eighty acres was currently leased to Mr. Cleary who ran a herd of sheep on it. But Cleary was retiring this fall and Hunter had plans to plow the fields and get them ready to plant into wheat next spring. That was the crop he was counting on to keep the ranch out of debt.

Hunter walked closer until he was almost at the woman’s car. He bent and let the cat go. He knew the animal wouldn’t leave his side. Not now. He took a deep breath to try to reassure the feline. When he looked up, the woman was talking.

“I’m sure that’s the land he meant.” She pressed her lips together slightly, as though she was thinking. Then her eyes flashed. “It’s what he bought after stealing the gold mine from us sixty years ago. He wrote my grandmother last month and said he would deed it all over to our family if we came and signed for it. ‘Clearing his conscience’ is what he called it—his land for us saying he didn’t steal the gold mine. Switching the deeds. So here I am.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hunter said. The windows were dark on the woman’s car, but he thought he saw some movement inside. Maybe it was just a raindrop sliding down the glass. “My grandfather had legal claim to that mine. He didn’t steal anything.”

“Is that what he told you?” Scarlett asked, her smile tight now as she walked around the car and stood facing him. “My grandfather would turn over in his grave if he could hear him saying that. Grandma always knew Colin Jacobson was a no-good, low-down thief. Now it seems he’s a liar, as well.”

“My grandfather is a good man,” Hunter protested. Despite everything, he believed that. “I’m sure your grandmother didn’t mean—”

“She also said he was handsome as sin and twice as charming,” the woman acknowledged with a look that measured Hunter with a calm objectivity. “Said it was a family curse of the Jacobson men.”

“Well, thank her—”

Hunter was beginning to think he might be able to resolve any problem here.

“I don’t see it myself,” Scarlett said abruptly.

Hunter rocked back on his heels.

“Well, I never claimed to be particularly good-looking.” He paused in case she wanted to protest out of politeness. She didn’t. “But you must know my grandfather owned that mine. He had it recorded official and everything.”

She put her hands on her hips. “He only had the right to half. He stole the rest when he filed the claim with only his name and left my grandfather off it. They were partners.”

“Yes, but—” Hunter had never asked about the claim. He’d seen the paperwork when he was a boy, though. His grandfather had always called Murphy his partner, but there was just one name on the claim: Colin Jacobson. Hunter had never given it much thought until now.

“My grandfather died from a broken heart after he lost that mine and the gold they’d sent to be assayed,” Scarlett continued with some heat. “‘Never should have trusted a weasel of a Jacobson,’ he said.”

“I’m sorry.” In all of his grandfather’s stories, the man had never mentioned his partner was dead. “What happened?”

Scarlett glared at him. “My grandfather couldn’t believe what yours had done. He was sick with a fever, but he insisted on going out to the mine so he could see for sure. I think he expected to find a note saying it was all a joke nailed to the claim post. The day was bitter cold and he fell, cracking the ice on the creek. Got his feet wet. He barely made it home. My grandmother buried him ten days later in the graveyard on the hill above the mine so he could look down on it. Pneumonia had set in. By then your grandfather had already left the state.”

“He didn’t know,” Hunter said, his voice stumbling. “I don’t think he even knew.”

His grandfather had talked his share of people out of money to finance some purpose or the other, but he’d never deliberately harmed anyone. Not like that. Given the date today, though, Hunter was wondering if the old man was taking care of every bit of bad business in his life.

“My grandmother had to take in washing to support her and her baby,” the woman said, her voice full of reproach. “Even now she claims that’s what caused her arthritis.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean for that—” Hunter started and then stopped. He was going to have to stop defending his grandfather. Even if the man meant well, it never worked out that way.

Everything was silent for a moment.

“My grandmother didn’t think he could have known, either,” the woman finally admitted.

“I’m sorry.” Hunter didn’t say anything else. He had no other words. It had happened long ago, but he could see it was like yesterday for the Murphy family. Sort of like the car accident in his family. Something no one ever got over.

Then Scarlett faced him directly.

“I understand your grandfather has buildings on the property he’s giving us,” she said as though she didn’t expect any further answer to her grief.

Hunter nodded. He understood the desire to keep heartache to oneself. Talking didn’t always help. He knew that himself.

“The house isn’t much,” he admitted. No one had lived in it for seventeen years. They had left the furniture there when they’d moved out, but they hadn’t maintained the place. There could be rats in the cupboards for all he knew. The cats had gone to the new place. “The barn is serviceable.”

Right now the house and barn were the only things not leased to Mr. Cleary. His grandfather had pointed out numerous times that the house should be fixed so he’d have a place to move when Hunter brought a bride home to the new place. Not that there was a wedding in sight. Until his grandfather stopped his schemes, Hunter was stuck. If he did marry, he had no intention of kicking his grandfather out of their home. But he couldn’t ask anyone to put up with the old man’s schemes, either, especially now that they were back in full force. That pretty much tied everything in a nice uncompromising knot.

“You won’t want the house,” Hunter said when he saw that Scarlett wasn’t weakening. “It’s almost falling down. Needs new electrical. Plumbing. Paint. The works.”

“You’re just as bad as your grandfather,” she said with a grin. “You can’t stop me, though. He warned me about you.”

Hunter blinked.

“He what?” He almost couldn’t speak, he was so astonished. “He warned you about me?”

He was the good grandson. Always had been. The one who had stayed. The one who fed the cats warm milk when the snow was knee deep outside and the wind was howling. The one who gave everyone back their money, even if they had lost their receipt. He’d half raised his brothers, made sure they got to school on time and washed behind their ears. And his grandfather had warned her about him?

“Yes,” Scarlett said emphatically. “And my family needs that house—and the land. It’s going to be our new home. We have your grandfather’s promise in writing and we’ll sue if that’s what we need to do to get what should be ours.”

With that threat, she turned back to the car, clearly dismissing him.

Hunter did the only thing he could. He turned around, climbed the steps and stomped into the café. He had to wait a minute for the cat to slip through the open door first, but they both finally made it inside with their dignities intact. As he suspected, his grandfather was calmly sitting at a table in the back —a cup of coffee and a half-eaten piece of apple pie in front of him. Hunter noted that, as usual, the waitress had removed the salt and pepper shakers from the table. His grandfather had a history of putting them in his pocket when he left. Hunter had finally gotten tired of bringing them back so he’d asked the owner, a nice woman by the name of Linda Enger, if she would just have them taken off the table when his grandfather came in. She’d not only done that, she’d preserved the old man’s dignity by telling the waitresses it was to cut down on his salt intake.

“What are you up to with the Murphy family?” Hunter demanded to know as he sat at the table. The cat curled itself under his chair. His grandfather had given up shaving these days in favor of a short white beard that made him look deceptively jolly. He’d lost some height in his old age and was a little more round than he should be. He still wore his trademark long-sleeved denim shirts, though. He said the ladies liked them because their color matched his eyes. Red suspenders held up the black wool pants he preferred. Hunter suddenly wondered if his grandfather wanted to look like Santa Claus so he could fool people easier.

“Why today of all days?” Hunter continued, working to soften the steel in his voice.

His grandfather shrugged. “It’s time we moved on.”

“And why would you warn someone about me?” Hunter added. He needed to be calm if he expected to learn anything. “I’m the good guy here.”

The old man just looked at him.

“Scarlett Murphy isn’t a fool,” Hunter said, trying again. “So you might as well let me in on the plan you have.”

The smell of the frying bacon reminded Hunter that it had been hours since he’d had breakfast. He looked over and caught the eye of the waitress. She was new, all starched and proper, and he didn’t know her name. He nodded to her all the same. Then he turned back to his grandfather.

“I thought it would be obvious—now that Scarlett is here.” The elderly man smiled and then he paused the way he did when he wanted someone’s full attention.

No one ever said his grandfather didn’t take full advantage of a suspenseful moment, Hunter thought.

“What is it?” Hunter asked, focusing completely on him now. That was the only way to find out anything. “What are you doing this time?”

“Well,” his grandfather said softly, seeming to relish his announcement, “I warned her about you because women like a little excitement in a man.”

“And?” Hunter knew he wasn’t finished.

“I’m trying to find you a bride since you won’t do it yourself.”

“A—b-bride,” Hunter stammered, staring at the old man in astonishment.

The sky outside had gotten darker and the café was filled with shadows. Hunter told himself that he should have stayed home today. His grandfather as a matchmaker was preposterous. Only then did Hunter realize the letter, lying so innocently open on the table, had been bait. His grandfather had known he would charge in like a knight on a white horse to save the unknown Scarlett.

“There’s no one like those Murphy women,” his grandfather noted in satisfaction as he rested the palms of his hands flat on the table, looking pleased with himself. “You’re my grandson. You deserve the best.”

“I don’t need you to find me a wife.” The thought was alarming.

“Well, you sure aren’t looking for yourself,” his grandfather retorted as he lifted his hand and slapped it down for emphasis. The old man looked startled at how loud the smack was. The sound of a cup shattering sent Hunter’s attention over to the waitress. She was staring down at the broken cup at her feet as coffee ran all over the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said to her as he started to rise. The cat had already snuck off to lie under another table.

“No.” The waitress held up a hand to stop him. “I’ve got it. You just stay with your grandfather. See that he doesn’t have any salt.”

Hunter sat back down and looked at his grandfather. The circus had only just started. “Why are you doing this?”

“Well, you’re not getting any younger. A man like you needs a family.”

Neither one said anything for a moment. Hunter focused on the red plastic carnation in the middle of the table as he counted to ten.

“I’ve got a family,” he finally whispered.

He’d never understood what happened to make his father swerve so fast that the car flipped, but when it did, a fire started in the engine. He’d tried to move his unconscious father, but when Hunter hadn’t been able to do it, he’d climbed out of the vehicle alone. He’d gone to his mother, hoping she could help, but she was on the ground bleeding and hadn’t even seemed aware of the fire. She’d taken his hand in hers, begged him to promise he’d keep the family together no matter what happened. The younger boys had been lying near a ditch crying, but they hadn’t heard her. Hunter had looked back at the increasing smoke but couldn’t leave his mother—or was it that he wouldn’t leave? That question had tormented him for years. Had he been too afraid of the fire to return?

He’d finally made the promise to his mother just as a pickup had come screeching to a halt a few feet from them. His grandfather had been there then, lifting him up in a hug. The old man had set him down and raced to the burning car. Hunter had tried to stop his tears, but he hadn’t been able to. The ambulance and Sheriff Wall, their red lights all flashing, had come soon after that. They’d put the fire out, but Hunter had never seen either of his parents alive again.

Hunter hadn’t told anyone about the promise he’d made....

But maybe his grandfather had suspected, because he grunted and said, “I mean a proper family. Not just people you think you have to take care of.”

Hunter shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t,” his grandfather said gently. “That’s not the point.”

“This woman will likely sue us,” Hunter said before the other man could say anything else. A man didn’t always choose his family, but he still had an obligation toward them. The cat had come back to sit at his feet like a sentinel. Loyalty was bred into those cats, too.

The older man looked taken back. “You mean, Scarlett? She can’t sue us. I didn’t promise her you’d marry her or anything. I’m not that daft.”

“No, but you did promise her some land.”

“Well, she wasn’t going to come down here from Alaska for the pleasure of meeting us, now was she?” his grandfather said, unrepentant and still more cheerful than he ought to be in Hunter’s opinion.

Just then he heard the door of the café open and he turned around. The woman stood there, silhouetted, the sun shining behind her and—Hunter gulped—a small red-haired boy’s hand in hers.

“She’s got a son,” he whispered as he turned to his grandfather. “She’s already married.”

That would teach the old man a thing or two about meddling, Hunter thought in relief.

“Divorced,” his grandfather said as he gallantly rose and gestured for the woman and boy to join them. “Desperate and broke, too. You should have no trouble.”

Hunter was speechless. He would have nothing but trouble. He could tell that much already.

* * *

As Scarlett stood inside the doorway, she could see that the sun-faded curtains didn’t quite reach across the windows in this place. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed long, thin strips of light shining through the gaps and falling across the full length of the nicely polished black-and-white tiled floor. Steel stools with red upholstered tops were lined against a small counter. A dozen tables, a few of them in use, were scattered around. She saw the cat from earlier stretched out under the table where the Jacobsons sat.

She tightened her grip on the handle of her leather briefcase. Her grandmother had given her the power of attorney to sign Colin’s papers. The document and a letter for the man were inside.

Hunter stood from the table where he had been sitting with his grandfather as she examined him. Square jaw, muscular, belligerent. Unfortunately she’d had her fill of men like him. She’d been married to one and learned the hard way that they strutted around giving orders as though they were kings of the world, never giving a moment’s thought to anyone but themselves.

She wondered what Hunter’s real reasons were for trying to stop her. She’d been under the impression the Jacobsons were rich enough to part with that small piece of land easily. He must be greedy—the kind of man who wouldn’t give a beggar a crust of stale bread even if he had a dozen loaves himself.

Before taking a step farther, Scarlett glanced down and put a hand on the shoulder of her five-year-old son, Joey. She felt a tremble in his slight body. It sent an answering shudder through her. Her son used to sparkle with mischief. But he had lost all his confidence lately. He’d insisted on bringing his old beat-up brown teddy bear along with him on this trip. His father had given it to him when he was a baby. She’d packed the bear away last summer and Joey had seemed fine without it. But then he had regressed. Now he carried it everywhere with him. Joey was the reason she was anxious to move out of Nome. She’d do battle with a thousand kings to see him happy again.

“There’s a chair beside the restroom,” she told her son. He’d used the side of the road earlier so she knew he didn’t have to go. “Can you sit there quietly for a minute by yourself?”

He thought a minute and nodded.

Joey was timid in new situations now, but a small business like this café did not likely have a separate area to wait inside the restroom. He’d be fine sitting there for a bit. Especially when he had his teddy bear in his hands.

“Come with me, then,” she said and they began to walk across the café.

She hadn’t planned to bring Joey with her for this trip. But last week she’d gotten an anonymous letter telling her that someone was going to kidnap him if she didn’t find the forty thousand dollars her ex-husband, Victor, had stolen from his drug supplier and return it. She couldn’t tell if the letter was a warning or a threat, from a friend or a foe. She didn’t doubt that Victor could have made off with some money. He’d led a double life in the years they’d been married, selling drugs when she’d thought he’d been working on a fishing boat, and she believed he would steal from anyone who was handy. But she didn’t know about any money and certainly not where it was. The police had come to search their house looking for drug money before Victor had left. They hadn’t found anything then and they had searched Victor again before he’d flown out of Nome.

Scarlett arrived at the door to the restroom and settled Joey on the chair. Then she leaned down and adjusted her son’s shirt before kissing the top of his head. He was precious to her. She patted the stuffed bear a little awkwardly. She noticed there was a torn seam along the back of the bear, a safety pin keeping it all together. Her grandmother must have put it there, but Scarlett decided to mend the bear when they got back to Nome. It was important to her son.

“Wait here for me,” she told Joey as she straightened. “I won’t be long.”

She wasn’t sure she’d leave her son outside if they were back in Nome.

She’d taken the letter to the police and they’d tried contacting Victor at the Florida phone number he’d left for her, but it had been disconnected. The police in Florida cruised by his address and said the place looked deserted. She had no contact information for Victor’s new wife. The officer finally said the letter was likely a prank after she admitted some older boys in town had started to knock on the door of their house when Scarlett was at work and taunt Joey, telling him he needed to come outside and face them. They’d even joked about him and his teddy bear, so Scarlett knew they had seen her son outside playing. Joey’s grandmother was always in the house with the boy, though, and when she appeared in the doorway, the boys would scatter. Still, Joey was clearly anxious about them.

They weren’t in Nome, though, Scarlett told herself as she turned the knob and opened the door to the restroom. They were perfectly safe here in Dry Creek.

She wasn’t inside the restroom for long, but when she opened the door to come out she glanced down at where Joey was supposed to be and realized that he was not there.

Scarlett gasped and frantically stepped out into the main part of the café.

“Joey,” she called.

“I’m here, Mommy,” her son said.

She turned and followed the sound of his voice until she was facing the Jacobson men. Joey was sitting on a chair at their table, his legs barely touching the floor and a half-emptied glass of water in front of him. The stuffed bear was lying on its back next to him, seemingly forgotten on the top of the table.

Hunter stood as she walked toward them.

“The boy was thirsty,” Hunter said by way of explanation before she reached them. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared.” Scarlett denied it without thinking how ridiculous that sounded.

“Any mother would be,” she added defensively.

Hunter nodded. “Of course.”

“Please, join us,” the older man said from where he sat. “I’m Colin Jacobson.”

He was the one she’d come to see, she reminded herself. Her grandmother had whispered to her that Colin was good-looking and Scarlett still saw vestiges of it around his eyes. He didn’t look like what she expected, though. His face seemed soft and almost wistful.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said, taking a step closer. She’d talk to him and ignore Hunter. She needed to be brave herself so Joey could see how it was done. The boy had grown more anxious since his father had left them. Scarlett knew life was not always easy. She’d lost both her parents when she was young, her mother to cancer and her father to desertion. That was probably whey she’d hung in with Victor for six long years. But she couldn’t believe there was any purpose in living a life of hesitation and fear. She suspected, though, that her ex-husband had taunted Joey about not being brave enough. Maybe that was the reason for his anxiety. He’d always wanted to please his father.

Scarlett pulled a chair away from the table.

She couldn’t help glancing over at Hunter again. This man certainly didn’t seem to have any fear in him. He still had his hands resting on the back of the wood-spindled chair in front of him and his steel-gray eyes were defiant and unrepentant. His face had a faint red mark on the left side. He wore a rancher’s long-sleeved shirt, open at the neck, and there was another red mark along his collarbone. They looked like burn scars. She could tell by the damp patches on his shirt that he had already done a full day’s work before coming here.

She gave the man a frosty look before she sat at the table.

She had patted a damp paper towel over her face when she was in the restroom, but she still wasn’t comfortable. It was hot in here, too. Her turquoise silk suit jacket felt tight across the shoulders and the humidity was making it worse. The band of her grandmother’s old engagement ring stuck to her skin as it hung around her neck on a chain. She probably looked younger than her thirty-two years of age.

She’d made a mistake in dressing so formally, she realized. Denim jeans and Alaskan-made mukluks on her feet would have made this man look at her with more respect. Her fishing knife strapped to her belt wouldn’t have hurt, either, especially since anyone could tell it had seen plenty of use. At least the ring gave her confidence. Since childhood she had known her grandmother could always pawn that ring if times became too hard. It had been their family’s safety net.

“Can I order you something to drink or eat?” the older man asked as he smiled.

“Thank you,” Scarlett said. “We’ve come a long way. Coffee and maybe some milk for my son would be nice.”

She hadn’t had time to buy breakfast when they’d gotten off the plane in Billings this morning. She’d given Joey a breakfast bar and an apple, but she hadn’t eaten anything.

She finally noticed that Hunter was standing and looking at her son. “You must be hungry. Would you like a muffin with your milk? Taking a trip always makes me want to eat something.”

Joey had always been shy with strangers, but he was so keyed up that he nodded vigorously. “We flew in a plane. It took a long time.”

Hunter stepped around the table and crouched until he was at eye level with the boy. “I know. Nome, Alaska. My grandfather told me. Did you like the plane ride?”

Scarlett stood, ready to demand Hunter stop talking to her son. But she realized she had no good reason. She doubted her son would say anything more in any event. Joey was much more likely to talk to a woman than a man. Still, she stayed by her son’s chair.

Joey shrugged, his eyes cast down at the floor.

Scarlett expected Hunter to move away since it was obvious her son had finished talking.

Then she heard Joey’s voice. “My dad flew away in a plane. We watched him. He’s going to Florida ’cause he’s got himself a new boy. He ain’t ever coming back unless...”

Scarlett was so astonished she barely noticed when Hunter looked up at her with panic in his eyes. At least he didn’t move away. Victor would have.

“He says he’ll come back if I’m a brave boy,” Joey continued, his voice small and his eyes downcast. “But I’ve tried and he doesn’t come.”

Joey had been eager to fly to see his father last month when the man had called and left a message asking him to do that. Joey’s father had even said he should bring his teddy bear, which made Scarlett think he was apologizing for the hard time he’d given Joey before he’d left. It hadn’t made any difference, though; her ex-husband had never returned the call after she’d left him a return message saying they could work out a trip.

Finally she’d realized the invitation had been one more false promise from her ex.

Joey had refused to talk to the grief therapist she’d taken him to. She had no idea why he was telling a stranger all of this, especially a man.

She didn’t know what to do. But finally she nodded encouragingly at Hunter. She’d work with anyone who made Joey talk about his feelings.

“And are you brave?” Hunter asked. “Like your father said?”

Scarlett almost kicked him in the shins to make him stop talking. She was quite sure that’s not what someone should say to Joey. If the man said anything about how Joey needed to be a man and stop being afraid, she’d take her son out to the car and head back to the airport.

“Sometimes I’m afraid,” Joey admitted, his eyes lifting to the man’s face. “I didn’t look out the window of the airplane. We were too high. I didn’t want to fall.”

Hunter nodded.

“My dad says I’ll fall lots if I do stuff and it’ll hurt.”

Joey was watching Hunter intently.

Scarlett wished she had Victor in front of her right now. She’d give him a piece of her mind. On the one hand he’d made her son afraid and then he’d scolded him for not being brave enough.

“Maybe it won’t hurt too badly though,” Hunter said as though weighing the question.

“You won’t ever fall,” Scarlett interrupted with some force. She didn’t want Joey to be any more afraid than he was. She didn’t want him to think he might have to survive a tumble.

“My dad wouldn’t like it if I was afraid,” Joey persisted. “He says I’m a scaredy-cat. Not like the other boy. That one’s brave. The boy in Florida.”

Scarlett held her breath. Victor had told her that he’d had a son with the ex-girlfriend he was planning to marry. She hadn’t known he’d also told Joey.

“Sometimes men say things they shouldn’t,” Hunter said and patted Joey on the shoulder. “That doesn’t mean they don’t...uh—value you.”

“He doesn’t know what value means,” Scarlett said, her voice desperate. Her son had finally opened up to someone and it would be nice if the man’s response made sense to him and was supportive in some measure.

She wasn’t sure she could hope for anything more from a man like Hunter.

“You’re a good boy,” the man said, obviously trying to say the right words. “Things will work out. You’ll see.”

Joey nodded vigorously as though he agreed. “I’m going to get a new house. And a dog, too.”

Maybe a dog would at least make him stop carrying around that old stuffed bear, Scarlett thought. Her son looked at her sideways and Scarlett bent to pull him into a hug. “We’ll have to see about the dog.”

She hadn’t realized that by going down to her son’s level she would be so close to Hunter, who remained at Joey’s side. She could smell pine and wondered if it was from aftershave or if the man had been around trees. She looked up and his eyes were riveted on her face. All she could do was stare back at him. To her surprise, he looked concerned.

“My dog will be a collie, just like Lassie on the TV show,” Joey said as he twisted out of her arms and turned to the man, his father forgotten for the moment. “She was a real nice dog.”

The man took his eyes off Scarlett and focused on her son.

“That she was,” Hunter agreed. Then he grinned.

The look on his face took her breath away. She sensed it was uncommon for him, but quiet delight showed in his eyes and smile.

“She never left her boy.” Joey nodded as he kept talking to the man. “Not when he needed her. She always found him.”

“I have some cats like that,” the man said, his tone solemn. “Very loyal.”

Joey was watching Hunter, and Scarlett wished she knew what to say. Of all the men to pour his heart out to, Joey had picked the wrong one. That man did not want them here. That fact would wound her son when he realized it. No one wanted to be rejected by their hero. She almost promised a dog just to get her son’s attention away from him.

“My dad doesn’t have a dog or a cat,” Joey finally whispered to Hunter as though he had secretly outwitted his father. “He doesn’t have my teddy bear, either.”

Then his smile crumbled and defiance mixed with despair. “My dad’s coming back someday, though. I’ll be his boy again then.”

Scarlett could only rub his back.

“Your father’s a fool,” Hunter murmured, all traces of humor having left his face.

But Joey was looking at her now.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’ll do everything we can to get a dog.”

Hunter looked directly at her again. The compassion in his eyes was her undoing. It was as if he knew. It was mostly for her son, but she knew the loss deeply herself. She had trusted her husband—had thought she’d known him—and he’d been someone completely different. When the grief subsided, all that remained was the knowledge that she’d been duped.

The tears in her eyes blurred her vision so she didn’t see Hunter reach out until he brushed a tear off her cheek. She felt the imprint of his thumb long after the tear had dried.

“You don’t need to worry,” she said more sharply than was warranted. “I learned my lesson.”

She didn’t want him to think she was as vulnerable as Joey. She would think twice before she got close to a man again. This one might know more ways to soften up a woman than most, but he was set against her. He had a purpose in what he did.

Hunter rose and offered her a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet.

The waitress had already set two more cups of coffee and a glass of milk on the table, along with a plate of warm pumpkin muffins.

Scarlett sat and stirred some cream into her coffee. It steadied her.

At least I’m done with Victor, she thought. When he’d left, he’d said he wanted Joey to come visit him, but that had not happened despite his phone call. She doubted he really wanted visitation rights. He was going back to his real family, he had informed them, as though she and Joey were cheap imposters. The old girlfriend had found him through the internet and he had proposed marriage to her before he’d even mentioned divorce to Scarlett.

“It’s time for Joey and me to look to the future,” she said, putting as much optimism into her voice as she could. “I’m ready to see the contract your grandfather has drawn up.”

“Contract?” Hunter asked.

She nodded. The divorce had wiped out her savings while she supported herself and her son without Victor’s help. The cost of living in Nome was high. A loaf of whole-wheat bread was five dollars. A can of fruit juice, eight. After Victor left, she’d started working the counter in a sandwich shop and taking a business course at the local extension college. She hadn’t been able to go back to guiding wilderness trips since some of them were overnight and she’d had no one to take care of Joey. She usually had to fly to Fairbanks or the base of Mount McKinley to meet up with the groups in the summer. The trips were all several days long. In the winter, only the Bering Sea and a nearby native village served as wilderness destinations.

When Colin Jacobson had written to her grandmother and offered this land, it had seemed perfect for them all. Her grandmother had health issues and could live more comfortably with her and Joey in this house than the one they had now. They could raise chickens and maybe grow vegetables. She knew how to can food and chop wood if necessary. They wouldn’t have to pay rent. She was ready for the challenge of making a living for her son and grandmother on this piece of property with its modest dwelling and distant neighbors. Maybe her sisters would even come and live nearby. It could be paradise.

“You can’t really be thinking of giving them that land?” Hunter’s voice carried and she realized he had stood again and was looking at his grandfather. The two men had been talking together in low voices while she’d let her coffee cool. “You’re going to make things worse when you pull out of the deal.”

Everything was so quiet in the café that the sound of the clock ticking in the far corner was like someone hammering. All of the other diners had stopped talking and were staring at Hunter and then Scarlett.

She should be able to endure any kind of scrutiny. But she could see by this man’s clenched jaw that he’d noticed the interest, too, and was no more comfortable with it than she was.

“What’s the angle?” Hunter demanded as he scowled at his grandfather.

“Well, it’s not just a straight-out gift,” the old man confessed. “I told them they need to farm the land for at least five years or they lose the place. But that only makes sense. And they need to give up claim to that gold mine I took from them. My conscience won’t rest easy until I’ve finally paid for the blasted thing.”

“How are they going to work the land?” Hunter asked as though he’d found the flaw in the whole offer. “If they can’t do it, it all goes back to you. Is that it?”

Scarlett rose. “Don’t worry. I’m going to work the place. I’m not giving it up.”

“You?” The man turned to her, astonishment on his face.

“I can drive a tractor,” she told him. She liked physical work.

Hunter looked at her with pity.

“Have you ever eaten dust all day?” he asked. “It’s not like turning the motor on one of those things at the county fair. Or riding around on a fancy lawn mower. You’ll get your hands dirty. Your shoulders will ache. Your face will blister. Your fingernails will be ragged. You’ll have dust up your nose.”

“My nose has known worse,” she said.

He arched one of his dark eyebrows at her in disbelief.

“I’ve sledded across the frozen Bering Sea in the middle of the winter with a team of dogs,” she informed him. “The air was so cold, my nose pinched together every time I took a breath. Some dust would have been a relief. I kept a scarf wrapped around my face. I was taking a medical group to the Russian side. It was bitter cold and storming.”

They’d almost died—would have done so with a less determined guide—but she had pulled them back to Nome through sheer will power. At that time in her life, she hadn’t been afraid of anything. Nurturing a bit of dry ranch land in Montana would be child’s play next to that.

Suddenly, Hunter reached down, picked up the gray Stetson sitting on the edge of the table and set it on his head. Then he looked at her. “You and I need to talk.”

He stepped around the table and motioned toward the door. “Joey will be fine in here with my grandfather—at least until he’s old enough to crack open his piggy bank. We’ll have some privacy on the porch.”

His voice was deep. The voice of a man in command of a situation. Hunter didn’t even look around as he walked toward the door. His back was ramrod-straight, his shoulders square and determined. Her grandmother had said the Jacobson men were all thieves, scoundrels and reprobates, without a conscience to guide any of them. She’d said it with a secret smile that Scarlett was just beginning to understand, though.

The Jacobson men were used to being able to enthrall women. Hunter probably thought he could give her some compliments and a couple of smiles and she would leave without the property she’d come to claim. Well, she wasn’t going to let this man stop her—even though she hadn’t exactly been subject to the compliment part so far.

She followed him anyway.

He opened the door for her and shut it after he stepped out. She frowned when she looked at the sky from the porch of the café. She knew storms and one was coming.

“How much money will it take to make you go away?” Hunter asked when they had both turned to each other. His gray eyes were cold as metal.

“Are you trying to pay me off?” she asked incredulously. He apparently didn’t feel he needed to waste any charm on her when cold hard cash would do. “Even more than my travel expenses?”

“If that’s what it takes. Yes.”

“I’m staying.”

A flash of lightning ripped across the sky and the crash of thunder followed close behind.

Hunter looked startled, but she figured he had his answer with celestial backup.

“And I don’t appreciate someone thinking I’m that flighty,” she added. “I know my own mind and it’s not for sale.”

“Flighty?” he asked with a smile that was almost charming. “I don’t think—”

She wasn’t ready to listen to any insincere apology.

“I need to return to Alaska on Monday, but I’ll be back with a loaded truck before you know it,” Scarlett promised. She resisted the urge to poke her finger at him even though she felt her breath catch at the thought. She had to admit he did have an appealing chest, one worthy of a king.

She reminded herself that she needed to make a decision about moving soon, but he didn’t need to know she was pressed for time. It wouldn’t be long before the Bering Sea would start to freeze over and she wouldn’t be able to send her belongings by ship down to Seattle. There were no roads that led to Nome, so driving out was not possible. Everything entered the small town by either ship or plane. The freight cost for even a portion of her household things would be several thousand dollars so she’d have to sell or give away most of what she had.

She decided he didn’t need to know any of that; he’d just try to argue her out of coming. She’d waited her whole life for a chance like this and she wasn’t going to back down now.

The porch had only a short overhang for a roof. She leaned back and looked up at the storm that seemed to have applauded her decision. Her triumph was cut short. Her breath felt short. And she was dizzy. She reached around for something to hold on to and found nothing but Hunter’s hand.

She almost didn’t take it and then she started to fall.

She wondered if he would catch her since he didn’t want her here in the first place.