Читать книгу Rancher And Protector - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 4

“I NEED to see Mr. Barton at once. It’s urgent.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you need an appointment.”

“But I’ve come from Wyoming and I need to go back this evening. Please, can you just get me a few minutes?”

“What is your business in reference to?”

“I’m here about the ranch he thinks he’s buying.”

That sentence got Jason Barton’s attention. The door to his Denver architectural firm office stood open and he had heard the entire conversation between his secretary and the interloper. Normally he depended on Janice to deflect any unscheduled visitors, but in this case he hit the call button. “Janice, send the woman in.”

He didn’t think he was buying a ranch! He’d made a fifty thousand dollar down payment and was due to close the deal in two weeks. He watched the door, interested in seeing this person who thought differently.

A beautiful young woman appeared in the doorway, wearing a fashionable blue suit that displayed long legs and a trim figure. Her hair, auburn in color, was in some kind of fancy hairdo piled on her head. She exuded confidence as she entered his office.

“Mr. Barton?” Her voice was low, sexy.

He glared at her, refusing to be swayed by her appearance and tone. That had happened to him once before and the result had been devastating. “Yes?”

“I’m Rosemary Wilson. My father offered to sell our family ranch to you.”

As if to dismiss her, Jason remained seated, not offering his hand. “Ms. Wilson, I suggest you talk to your father. I’ve made a down payment to buy the Bar G ranch and we’re closing in two weeks.”

To his surprise, her eyes filled with tears. What happened to the self-assured woman from a moment ago?

“I can’t do that, Mr. Barton. My—my father died last week.”

He frowned, studying her face as she tried to regain composure. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Wilson.” He paused. Then he said, “But I’m afraid that doesn’t cancel the contract.”

The young woman lowered her eyes, no doubt struggling to regain her composure. Jason took the moment to appreciate her appearance, though he missed her big hazel eyes. He wouldn’t be doing her bidding, but he wouldn’t mind spending some time with her. Aside from the hour at the closing, of course.

Acting impulsively, which he rarely ever did, he said, “We could discuss the situation over dinner this evening.”

She looked up at him and shook her head. “I have to get back to Wyoming this afternoon, but I could have lunch with you—if you’re free.”

Without responding to Ms. Wilson, he leaned forward and pressed the intercom. “Janice, get me a lunch reservation for two at the club.”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked up at his visitor. “If you’ll let me sign a couple of papers, I’ll join you out by Janice’s desk in five minutes.”

“All right.”

He watched her walk out of his office and called himself every kind of fool. But he told himself he wasn’t going to be taken in by another gold digger. He was just going to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman for a couple of hours. That was all this was.

And he certainly enjoyed entering the club with Ms. Rosemary Wilson on his arm a few minutes later. But once they were seated, she immediately began her plea.

“Mr. Barton, the ranch has been in my mother’s family for four generations—”

He held up a hand. “I think we should order first, Ms. Wilson, don’t you?”

She nodded, sitting back in her chair.

After the waiter took their orders and disappeared, Jason turned to her. “Now you can make your case.”

“But it won’t matter, will it?” she suddenly asked. “You have no intention of giving in to me.”

“Probably not.” He wouldn’t lie to her.

“Then why am I here?” she demanded, and pushed her chair back to leave.

“Because I got the impression that your family ranch mattered to you, and I’d hear you out in case it mattered to me.”

She stared at him and gradually relaxed in her seat again. “Very well. As I said, the ranch has been in my mother’s family for four generations and I had no idea my father had intentions of selling it. Please reconsider, Mr. Barton.”

He didn’t want to reconsider. He’d fallen in love with the ranch in the foothills of the Rockies, away from city life. Having been raised on a ranch, he treasured the idea of returning to that life one day. He could understand the pride in the tilt of her chin at keeping the same home for generations. Too bad his father had sold his family spread. He stared into her hazel eyes, seeing the determination there at war with the fear of losing the homestead, and he could feel his resolve wavering. He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t realize how unlike him this was. Normally he was steel-willed, a visionary with the strength and fortitude to back it up. But there was something about Rosemary Wilson…

He wouldn’t give up his mission of owning a ranch. He’d find another place that he liked just as much as the Bar G. And Rosemary could have her family inheritance.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling he wanted to keep the transaction quiet. If his business competitors discovered how he wavered on this deal, there was no telling what they’d try to get over on him.

With a sigh, he said, “All right, Ms. Wilson. I’ll let you keep the ranch. Just return my down payment.”

Having met her demand, he was surprised to see an uneasiness on her face.

“I—I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Return your money.”

“You expect me to cancel the contract and take a fifty thousand dollar loss? I’m afraid I’m not in the business of losing money, Ms. Wilson.”

“No, of course not. But if you’ll give me one month, I believe I can return your money to you.”

Before he could ask any questions, the waiter arrived with their lunch. He waited until the man walked away.

“How do you think you’ll do that?”

“Apparently my father neglected a lot of things on the ranch, including roundups. My manager says there are a couple hundred head of cattle in the foothills. If we round up those cows and take them to market, I’d have enough to pay you back.”

“That’s all supposition, Ms. Wilson. I see no reason to give up the ranch based on such information.”

“I understand that, Mr. Barton. But it’s only a month, and I’m willing to make it worth your while.”

He was interested.

“If I’m unable to make back the fifty grand,” she said, “then I’ll reduce the sale price of the ranch by an additional fifty.”

“You realize you’re risking a hundred thousand dollars? On the possibility you’ll manage to raise fifty.”

“I’m not an idiot, Mr. Barton. I know what I’m offering and keeping the family ranch is well worth the risk.”

She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Eat your lunch and let me think,” he ordered, not bothering to coat his words with sweetness.

She picked up her fork, but she didn’t actually eat anything. He figured she was one of those women who ate a few lettuce leaves and claimed to be full.

His thoughts were interrupted when a woman stopped by the table to say hello. He recalled meeting the leggy redhead at one of the must-do business engagements he’d attended a few months ago. She effused and gushed all over him, batting her long lashes at him.

After several minutes, when he didn’t ask her join them, she finally moved on.

Across from him Rosemary sat stiffly in her chair. “I’m sorry to be interrupting your social life, Mr. Barton.”

Jason stared at her with jaded eyes. She didn’t sound like she was sorry. And he wasn’t sorry, either. He wanted nothing to do with any of the socialites in Denver.

“You weren’t.”

“I should’ve thought to ask your wife to join us,” she said, no doubt trying to make him feel guilty.

“Not necessary. This is a business lunch.” He didn’t bother to tell her he had no wife now. He certainly didn’t want her to think she could flirt her way out of the contract. Or, he suddenly thought, had she done that already?

He felt a little guilty taking advantage of her by agreeing to her deal. But she’d made the offer. He hadn’t demanded it. He found it hard to believe that this woman could manage a roundup and recover cattle from the rough foothills of the Rockies. She didn’t look like she could even stay on a horse, much less find the cattle.

Of course, she might try to fool him and sell cattle that had been counted in the contract. That thought had him changing his initial response. “I’ll agree to your offer on one condition.”

“What?” she asked, hope lighting her face.

“I and my ranch manager will accompany you on the roundup. After all, I need to make sure you don’t try to sell cattle I’ve already paid for.”

The anger on her face surprised him. “How dare you accuse me of trying to cheat you!” She glared at him. Then, after rethinking her lesser position, she changed her mind. “Fine. I don’t care who comes. But if you try to sabotage our efforts or even try to slow us down, I promise I’ll sue you for all you’re worth.” She jumped up and hurried toward the door of the restaurant, then she must have thought of something else, because she whirled around. “Be at the ranch for the start of the roundup at 6:30 a.m. Monday. And if you’re late, too bad. We won’t be waiting for you.”

He gave her a small smile. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

When Rosemary reached the ranch that evening, she tried for an upbeat air, knowing Wes, her ranch manager, and Sara Beth, his wife and longtime housekeeper for her father, would be waiting.

And she should be upbeat, she told herself. After all, Barton had agreed to her proposal.

But the man was coming with them, she reminded herself. She didn’t look forward to having Jason Barton on the cattle drive. He made her…uncomfortable, and she’d need all her wits about her on the roundup.

“What did he say?” Sara Beth asked as soon as Rosemary came through the door.

Wes was standing there staring at her. She tried to smile, but she wasn’t very successful.

“He—he agreed to my proposal.”

“So why aren’t you happy?” Wes asked.

“He insisted that he and his ranch manager come with us.”

“That’s not an unreasonable request, Rosie.”

“I know, but—but he makes me nervous. And he accused me of trying to cheat him!”

“That’s only because he doesn’t know you, honey,” Sara Beth said, putting an arm around her. Sara Beth had been the closest thing to a mother for Rosemary since Linda Wilson had died ten years ago when Rosemary was fifteen. “He seemed real nice when he was here looking at the ranch. And he’s so handsome!”

“I guess.” Rosemary had no intention of raving about Jason Barton’s appearance, even though the man was tall, broad-shouldered, with perfectly styled brown hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was gorgeous, actually, and wealthy. But that didn’t make him right. She was determined not to let his looks sway her, in spite of the unfamiliar feelings he aroused in her.

“So when did you tell him we’d start?” Wes asked.

“Three days from now. He’s going to provide his own mounts and I told him not to be late. We’re not waiting for him!”

“Now, Rosie, he’s doing us a favor. Let’s not make him an enemy.” Wes turned to his wife. “Is dinner ready? I’ve got a lot of work to do for us to be ready by Monday.”

“Yes. I’ll just put it on the table. Are you ready to eat, Rosie?”

“Yes, I’ll go change and then be back down.” She ran upstairs, eager to put on comfortable clothes. Back in Cheyenne, she’d had to dress well as a publicist, but she no longer had that job. Now she was a ranch owner, she needed to feel the part. In her well-worn jeans and boots, she was able to think like a rancher. At least, that was what she believed, and now more than ever she had to give herself every advantage, real or imagined.

Over dinner, she and Wes discussed what they needed to do before the roundup began. Sara Beth added her opinion. She was not only an experienced cook, but she had occasionally gone on short cattle drives when she was younger.

Rosemary jotted lists, which was how she normally organized large projects at work. By the time Sara Beth finished the dishes, they had everything organized.

At least Rosemary hoped so. The roundup was too important. If she couldn’t pull it off, she’d lose the only home she’d ever known. And she would know she’d failed her mother. Linda Wilson would’ve expected her to keep the ranch in the family. The Bar G was named after her mother’s family, the Gables. They were long on hard work but short on sons to carry on the ranching tradition. That left it up to Rosemary.

As for her father, she wasn’t sure she knew what he would’ve wanted. After all, he’d sold the ranch.

She asked herself over and over why her father hadn’t at least discussed such a big decision with her. She’d come home for the weekend only a couple of weeks before his fatal heart attack.

They’d spent some time together on horseback and talked about her mother. It had been a special weekend. She’d remembered reiterating her promise to come home if he needed her. He’d looked a little tired, but she hadn’t thought much about it, as ranching wasn’t an easy life.

But it was a life she loved. She’d only gone to Cheyenne in the first place because her father had told her she needed to use her degree for at least a couple of years. She’d enjoyed her job and had learned a lot in Cheyenne. But her heart was here, on the ranch.

The memories of her mother and the times they’d shared had happened on the ranch. Her mother had taught her to cook, of course. But they’d also ridden together, though her mother had left the running of the Bar G to Robert, Rosie’s father.

Then, after her mother’s death, which had been devastating for a young teenager, she’d turned to her father, and had trailed after him all over the ranch. Though he’d always been disappointed that his only child was a daughter, not the son he’d wanted so desperately, he’d taught her all those things he would’ve taught a son. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d learned them, along with rules he wouldn’t have taught a son. Rule number one: Tears were forbidden.

But Robert Wilson wasn’t here now, and she choked back those forbidden tears.

How could she survive without those memories? Without the ranch? She loved it here with the rolling hills, the mountain peaks in the distance. She loved being away from the city, where she could get up in the morning and look out her window and see blue skies all the way to the mountains.

So once again the question was why hadn’t her father at least told her?

She’d discovered he’d used Jason Barton’s down payment to pay off debts and set aside the rest to pay for his funeral. There wasn’t much left. She hadn’t wanted to give Jason Barton a discount on the price of the ranch, but she couldn’t blame him for not giving her the month with nothing in return. She knew how powerful men like him operated. They always had to get something in return.

It was the stipulation he’d made that bothered her most of all. She didn’t want to spend the two weeks of the roundup with the man. He was too handsome, too powerful, too…she didn’t know what.

From her initial response to him, she knew it would take a lot of energy to resist that charming smile. Better to be angry with him than to let him get under her skin. She could lose her ranch and her heart if she wasn’t careful.

Monday morning, Rosemary was up early. She had her breakfast at five-thirty and then gathered her bedroll and saddlebags, along with her father’s rifle, and hurried out to mount up. She certainly wasn’t going to be late.

But first she had to tell Sara Beth goodbye. “Thanks for all your work, Sara Beth.” Just fifty years old, the woman was tall, attractive, with a slightly rounded figure. Her hair, blond with only a few strands of gray, rested in a mound atop her head.

“Child, you just be careful,” Sara Beth replied. “And keep an eye on Wes. He still thinks he’s a youngster, but he turned fifty-one last birthday.”

“I know, Sara Beth. I’ll make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

“All right. Hurry home. I’m going to miss both of you.”

Rosemary gave her a hug and then hurried out to the barn, where she could see Wes talking to a couple of men. They looked like cowboys, but Wes hadn’t mentioned hiring anyone new.

When she reached the small group, she was shocked to see that one of the men was Jason Barton. He looked even better in well-worn jeans than he had in his designer suit and silk tie. Beside the barn was an expensive horse trailer attached to a dual-cab truck.

“Ms. Wilson,” Jason Barton said in acknowledgment of her appearance.

She nodded in return. He wanted to keep it formal? That was fine with her. She looked to Wes to introduce her to the other man.

He did. “Rosie, this is Ted Houston, Jason’s ranch manager. He’s going with us, too, as you know.”

She nodded again. “Fine. Are we ready?”

“Yeah, the boys have the horses ready. Your horse is tied to the corral, with the others.”

“Is Cookie packed up and ready?”

“Yeah, he’s already left. He’s going to set up camp for us halfway there. We should make camp about four this afternoon.”

“Good. Then let’s mount up.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned toward the corral. Maggie, the sorrel mare she’d been riding since she was sixteen, stood waiting. Rosemary untied the reins, put her things on the saddle and then petted Maggie before she mounted.

Alongside Maggie was a gelding, large, strong, able to carry a big man like Jason Barton. A few days ago she’d faced him in spike heels, but today, in her cowboy boots, as was he, he towered over her.

As she swung into the saddle, he moved to the gray’s side. Swinging into the saddle with great ease, he backed the horse up and moved in Wes’s direction.

“Nice mount,” she said quietly.

“Thanks. Shadow and I have been together for a few years.”

“Did you bring a second mount?” All of her employees had two mounts for the roundup because of the hard work.

“Yes, both Ted and I brought two mounts.”

“Good. Take it from me, Mr. Barton. You’ll need them.”

Jason followed the woman up to the group of cowboys already assembled. He introduced himself to all of them, though he’d met some of them when he’d come to look at the ranch. He also introduced Ted.

But his gaze followed Ms. Wilson’s movement. He’d been shocked by her appearance this morning. Gone was the makeup, the earrings, the designer suit and especially the spike heels. Even her hair was different. It was in a braid down the center of her back. Not only was she simply dressed, but none of her attire looked new. She acted as if this was a normal activity she’d been doing all her life.

He hadn’t expected her to be experienced, but she sat her horse with ease. Maybe she knew what she was doing…Still, he wouldn’t believe it until she proved herself on the roundup. Almost anyone could learn to ride a horse. Working on a roundup took more knowledge. Certainly Wes knew what to do. He hadn’t hired Wes to stay with the ranch because he felt the ranch was a little run down. He figured Wes was responsible for that.

Now Jason was beginning to wonder.

Wes set the pace at a lope. While Ms. Wilson stayed close to her manager, she seemed to know all the cowboys.

Jason had expected her to ride with the trail cook and to help with the meals. Not to round up the cows. Was her horse trained as a cutting horse? If the mare wasn’t, its lovely rider wouldn’t be of a lot of use on the drive.

Maybe she intended to supervise from camp, he suddenly thought. Only time would tell. Right now he was ready to do his best, to do the job in front of him. All his employees and business rivals would agree: Jason Barton believed in playing fair—as long as the other guy did, too. Guy or woman.

He clicked at his horse and Shadow obeyed, picking up the pace.

After about five hours Jason had to admit he was feeling stiff. A few weekend rides didn’t equate to five straight hours in the saddle.

The irritating thing was that Rosemary Wilson looked as fresh as she had at 6:00 a.m.

Wes told everyone to dismount and eat their bagged lunch under the shade of some tall trees. Like all the cowboys, Jason took care of his mount before he fed himself. There was a creek nearby and he led Shadow to it.

Rosemary Wilson didn’t ask anyone else to take care of her mount. She led her horse to the water and waited until the horse had drunk her fill. Then she tied up the mare where the grass was green. Once her horse was grazing, she took her canteen and her sandwich and joined Wes.

Jason knew she wouldn’t welcome him anywhere close to her; she’d communicated that clearly enough by her attitude. He joined them anyway, as did his manager, Ted.

“You certainly picked a nice day for the start, Ms. Wilson,” Jason said, offering an easy smile to see if she’d relax a little.

She didn’t. “Thank you.”

“Do you think this kind of weather will last for the entire two weeks?”

“Who knows?”

“Wes, what do you think?”

“It’s September. We sometimes get some cold fronts, even snow. But we’re hoping, since it’s at the beginning of the month, we’ll be all right.”

“How rough are the foothills we’re going to be covering?” Ted asked.

Wes and Ms. Wilson exchanged a look. Then Wes said, “Some of it is pretty wild.”

“We didn’t bring rifles,” Jason said. “Should we have?”

Wes looked him in the eye. “Yeah. But we’ve got rifles, so if we run up on a bear or something, we’ll take care of it.”

Jason turned to look at Ms. Wilson. “Did you bring a rifle?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can you shoot it?”

Wes laughed. “This little girl is one of the best sharpshooters I’ve ever seen.”

The “little girl” only said, “Yes.”

“I’m surprised, Ms. Wilson.”

She raised one slim eyebrow. “Why?”

“When you came to my office, you looked like you had conquered the world of fashion, not sharpshooting.”

“You were mistaken, Mr. Barton.”

Wes frowned. “Are you two going to be so formal the entire roundup?”

“I don’t mind Ms. Wilson using my first name, though I can’t use hers unless she says it’s okay.”

“Come on, Rosie,” Wes interjected. “Quit standing on ceremony. This is a roundup, not some fancy social affair.”

Jason almost burst out laughing. He could see the stubbornness on her face. She wanted to remain cool, aloof, to hide behind formality. But she couldn’t admit it in front of Wes.

Finally she acquiesced. “Fine. I’ll be glad to call you Jason, and you can call me Rosemary.”

“Thanks, Rosemary.”

She nodded and took a bite of her sandwich.

Wes was watching him, as if he was wondering why Jason was pushing Rosemary from her comfort zone. But as Wes had said, they couldn’t be formal for two weeks.

In spite of Wes’s bragging about Rosemary’s skills, Jason still wasn’t sure she would be of much use on the cattle drive. He would just have to wait and see.

After a half-hour break, they were all in the saddle again, facing another four to five hours before they reached their first camp. Wes had explained that they would be at the halfway point this evening. Then they would travel another eight hours the next day. The day after, they would begin the search for cattle, at the farthest point and the highest elevation, beyond which the terrain was too rough for cattle to venture. Then they would gradually move back toward the ranch, sweeping the hills for the cattle.

It would be a much slower trip coming back than it had been going.

When they reached the camp set up by the cook, they could smell dinner cooking and see a large campfire. The warmth would be welcome, Jason admitted. As the sun lowered behind the hills, the air had changed from crisp to cold.

And the food would be just as welcome. His body was tired and in need of fuel. He’d tried not to slump in the saddle because Rosemary certainly wasn’t slumping. The woman must have a lot of muscles in that trim figure, he reasoned.

Ted was apparently feeling much as he did. “I’m glad to see that fire. I don’t like the cold.”

Jason frowned in surprise. “Haven’t you had to go out in bad weather to take care of the cattle?”

“I usually get some of the men to do that work.”

Jason thought he knew Ted Houston fairly well. He’d come highly recommended, and he’d ridden with Jason on a couple of weekends at a stable outside Denver, where Jason kept Shadow and several other horses. But a leader didn’t ask his men to do things he wouldn’t do.

After they dismounted and tended their horses, including putting up a rope corral that would hold the horses for the night, they all moved quickly to the fire where the cook had an appetizing stew cooking over the fire.

“It smells good, Cookie,” Rosemary said, finally smiling.

“It’s Sara Beth’s recipe, Rosie, so you know it’s good.” He turned to Jason and held out a hand. “I don’t believe I’ve met you. I’m Albert Downey, but everyone calls me Cookie, for obvious reasons,” he said with a grin.

Jason shook his hand. “Glad to meet you. I’m Jason Barton and this is Ted Houston.”

“Welcome, boys. The tin bowls are stacked on the tailgate of the SUV. Grab one and a spoon and get in line. It’s chow time.”

Jason waited for Rosemary to advance first. He fell in step behind her, his eyes on the sway of her hips in those tight jeans. They’d ridden through some of the most beautiful scenery in the west today, but Jason had to admit this was the prettiest sight he’d seen all day.