Читать книгу The Ranch Solution - Julianna Morris - Страница 13

CHAPTER THREE

LATER THAT AFTERNOON Mariah and Luke Branson rode in the direction the wranglers had taken the O’Donnells. She routinely checked on visitors to be sure the greenhorns were doing okay, and today the newest greenhorns were Jacob and Caitlin...not that Jacob O’Donnell would enjoy being described that way.

Her horse tossed his head, playfully testing her control of the bit. Shadow loved to run, the wind racing by, his hooves thundering across the land.

“You’re a live wire, aren’t you, boy?”

He whinnied and leaped a step. His black coat gleamed warm in the sunlight and his ears were pricked forward, alert to every sound.

“I swear that animal is your best friend. I come in a poor second,” Luke complained good-naturedly.

“He’s my best horse friend,” she agreed. She’d raised Shadow from the day he was born, right after her mom and dad’s accident. It had helped get her through those bleak, grief-filled days. “But you’re my best people friend.”

“So is Reid still saying he doesn’t want to go to college?” Luke asked with a pleased grin.

“More or less.”

“Maybe he’s worried how you’ll pay for it.”

“Could be. It’s tight, but we’re doing better. The debts are paid and I’m putting money aside. We should be able to swing the expense.”

“That’s great.” His mount sidestepped skittishly. “Stop it, Ghost, or I’ll turn you into dog food,” he warned the gray-and-white piebald.

Ghost snorted in disbelief.

“I could talk to Reid,” Luke offered. “He might open up for me—man-to-man, that sort of thing. Or at least as his future brother-in-law.”

“Thanks, but I’ve pushed enough. He’s got finals soon and they have to come first.”

“It’s your call. Are those the greenhorns you’re checking on?” Luke gestured to the south, down a sloping hill.

“Looks like them.”

Mariah bent over Shadow’s neck and watched the group in the distance. Though she’d still dressed in black that morning, Caitlin had forgone the silver-studded shirt and purple accents in her hair. Other than those small changes, she’d remained pure defiance. The anxious daughter from the predawn morning was nowhere to be found a few hours later. She’d mouthed off to the cowhands, told the cooks they were serving heart attacks on a plate and shown up an hour late to the corral. She wouldn’t say where she’d been, but Burt had calmly informed her that if it happened again she’d either sit her rear end in the tent for the day or spend it shoveling out the horse stalls.

Burt was always calm. It made him a terrific wrangler for kids. Things that might give anyone else a stroke made him yawn. She wished she could say the same thing about herself. Having Jacob imply she was lying about the injuries on the ranch had infuriated her. There had been a boy who’d broken his arm the prior year...but he’d fallen in Buckeye when his parents stopped to buy postcards on their way to the airport.

Luke controlled another sideways jump from his horse. “This O’Donnell fellow sounds like a real piece of work. I’ve never heard you gripe so much about a guest.”

“He rubs me wrong.”

“That’s interesting.”

She gave Luke a sharp glance. “There’s nothing interesting about it. He’s difficult, that’s all. He actually advised me that my parents should speak to Reid about being friendlier to guests. What nerve. He thinks the world revolves around him and his money. It isn’t that I don’t care what his daughter is going through, but he has to deal with it, not just throw his checkbook at the problem. On top of that, he said our facilities are primitive. Since when are hot showers and commercial-grade restrooms primitive? If he wanted a resort on the Riviera, he should have gone to the Riviera.”

“Okay, okay,” Luke placated. “I’m not the enemy. I’m on your side. Let’s go meet this difficult guest.”

Mariah brushed Shadow’s flanks with her heels and they cantered toward the others. As they got closer she could see that Jacob O’Donnell and the wranglers were working with a cow—its calf bawling in loud, unhappy tones—while a white-faced Caitlin remained in the saddle, some distance away. Mariah swung to the ground, her focus narrowing. The mother cow had a nasty cut running down her rear haunch. She was in pain, and that would make her more unpredictable than usual.

“It’s not too bad, Baby Girl.” Burt cursed amiably as he received a kick in the stomach. “But that gentle touch of yours will come in handy, Mariah.”

Her mouth curved. At rare moments he still called her Baby Girl, the way he’d done when she was four years old and would sneak into the barn to be with a favorite horse.

“Hey, Burt,” Luke greeted the cowhand.

“Howdy. Sorry to mess up your old-fashioned courtin’ with old-fashioned work.”

Luke chuckled, the cowhands sniggered, and Mariah could have belted all three of them. Luke wasn’t courting her. They had an understanding; you didn’t have to court somebody you were already going to marry.

The noise from the frightened calf was increasing the mother’s agitation, so Mariah nudged it into her sight. “Don’t fuss, silly, nobody is hurting your baby.”

Both animals quieted.

“I have the first-aid kit,” Jacob said when she looked up. He lifted the canvas pack that was a standard piece of equipment on the U-2.

Mariah took the kit. “Thank you. Stay with Caitlin, and we’ll take it from here.” They couldn’t let guests be involved in this kind of situation. It was funny, though. Jacob didn’t seem bothered that he might get injured himself at the ranch, just that his daughter be kept safe.

He stuck out his chin. “What about that guy?” he asked as Luke rolled up his sleeves.

“That ‘guy’ is our neighbor and an old hand at doctoring livestock. Luke Branson, meet Jacob O’Donnell.”

The two men gave each other measuring looks, testosterone zinging through the air, and she sighed in disgust. Men were men, regardless of where they’d grown up. She’d have to intervene before they started chest bumping or doing something equally stupid to prove their masculinity.

She cleared her throat. “Mr. O’Donnell, your job here is to reassure your daughter.”

“It’s Jacob, and I’m going to help. Kittie is fine. I told her to stay well back on her horse.”

“She’s the color of old paste and needs her father more than we need you getting in our way. You’re just delaying treatment for this cow by arguing with me.”

“That’s right,” Luke added, and Mariah dug her elbow into his rib cage. Did he think she couldn’t cope with Jacob O’Donnell on her own? She did not need his assistance; he would simply make it worse. He ought to have figured out by now that the Westons took care of their own troubles.

“Please...Jacob,” she said. “We have it under control.”

He glared darkly and stomped away.

Caring for the cow’s cut was messy and unpleasant, but Mariah finished as quickly as she could in order to make it easier on the animal and her calf. Burt untied the cow’s legs and she lunged to her feet, restrained from further movement by the lasso around her neck. Range cattle were tough; they could be down to their last ounce of strength and still be dangerous. She wouldn’t like being corralled, but the wound was septic and severe enough to warrant a few days back at the ranch.

Mariah dropped another rope over the calf’s head. “Caitlin?” she said, motioning to her.

The teenager swallowed. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, you found her before it got too bad. I want you to take the lead. The mother will follow her baby, so go nice and slow.”

“I don’t...um...don’t know the way.”

“You don’t have to. You’re riding Blue—he knows the ranch better than the rest of us. Say ‘Home, Blue,’ and he’ll get us there.” She gave Caitlin the end of the rope and focused on Luke. He’d hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his denims and was giving her a quizzical look. “You aren’t coming with us,” she informed him.

“You’re mad at me.”

“What gives you that idea?”

He laughed and kissed her lightly. “It was easy. I’ve known you since birth and recognize that expression in your eyes—it’s the same one you had when you were seven and hit me with a horseshoe. Am I still invited to the dance on Saturday?”

“You’re always invited. You know that.”

As he rode off, Mariah climbed onto Shadow. She was annoyed, but it wouldn’t last long. Luke was a handsome man, with the powerful build of someone who worked hard every day of his life, but she was surrounded by good-looking cowboys and sexy visitors like Jacob O’Donnell. It wasn’t Luke’s appearance that set him apart—it was the friendship that had survived childish squabbling, years away at school, and her need to concentrate on Reid and repay her school expenses before making a commitment. It didn’t matter how much you loved someone. You had to believe in the same things to have a lasting relationship.

When they were ready to leave, Caitlin said “Home, Blue” in a high, squeaky voice. She held the rope in a white-knuckled grip as Blue ambled toward the ranch. He had more common sense than most people, which was why she’d chosen him for Caitlin.

The cow limped forward, attention fixed on her calf. The baby was young, born late in the spring drop, but it wouldn’t be orphaned like the other calves they fostered annually.

Jacob jockeyed his horse next to Mariah. “She’s scared,” he muttered.

“Responsibility is scary, but that isn’t a reason not to take any.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“But?”

His jaw set stubbornly. “She’s just a kid and this must feel like life and death to her. It’s too much.”

“She’s leading a calf to the barn, not doing brain surgery,” Mariah said drily. “I think she can handle it, but if you’re so worried, you could ride with her instead of complaining to me about it.”

Jacob scowled. “I’m planning to. It’s just that you don’t know anything about my daughter, so you don’t know what she can or can’t handle.”

“You’re right, we don’t know her. Which begs the question...why did you think we could do something to help her if you couldn’t do it yourself?” Mariah winced as soon as the retort left her mouth. So much for her resolution to treat Jacob like any other guest.

“Hell. Are you rude to everyone, or am I special?”

He was special all right...especially irritating.

She couldn’t deny that Jacob’s lean, masculine intensity pulled at her senses. Physically he was a compelling man; it was his other parts she wasn’t so crazy about.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” she said evenly. “But it’s important for Caitlin’s welfare that you don’t expect a service we aren’t able to deliver. And if I have to push to get the message across, that’s what I’ll do.”

“At least we agree about her safety, but you can’t act as if she was raised on a ranch, with the skills and experience you and your brother have acquired from everyday life.”

“Kids grow up fast here. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone has to take chances to learn and really live. We just risk a few more than parents allow their children to in the city.”

“That’s so reassuring,” Jacob said sarcastically. “But I’ll decide how fast my daughter grows up, if you don’t mind.”

Mariah bit her lip to keep from saying something else she’d regret. For example, if he was so concerned for Caitlin, why did he spend so many hours working? She’d heard that he had already asked where he could charge the batteries for his smartphone and laptop computer, whether the ranch provided wireless internet and if they had a fax machine for guest use. What did he plan to do, set up an office in the mess tent and run his business while everyone else dealt with Caitlin? Surely she needed her father’s time more than she needed to ride in a Mercedes or have other expensive frills.

Mariah’s dad used to say it took all kinds to get by, but she wasn’t as certain. While she appreciated the income Jacob O’Donnell’s “kind” brought the ranch, it came at a stiff price. Money was a means to an end for Mariah; it wasn’t a priority the way it appeared to be for Jacob.

“By the way,” she said finally, “we never put our guests in the middle of a situation as serious as treating a wounded cow, so I know my wranglers didn’t ask for your help.”

“It seemed the right thing to do, and I wish you hadn’t interfered.” Jacob’s eyes were hard and impassive.

“I interfered, as you put it, because it’s my job.” She wasn’t sure what to make of his statement. Chauvinism? Or was it ego? She’d encountered an excess of male ego over the years—typically from weekend warriors taking risks to prove something to themselves or someone else. Except Jacob didn’t seem the weekend-warrior type. “Did you get kicked or hurt before I arrived?”

“Not to speak of.” He slapped some dirt and grass from his clothes. “You aren’t going to be sued. I signed your waiver-of-responsibility forms, remember?”

“Does everything boil down to money for you?” she asked, her nerves on edge...maybe because she knew that the waiver forms might or might not protect the U-2 in court. And the threat would go up if somebody with Jacob O’Donnell’s resources decided to sue them. He could likely purchase a hundred ranches without noticing the change in his bank account.

“There’s nothing wrong with money, and it safeguards my daughter.”

Mariah watched Caitlin. Despite what he thought, being rich didn’t offer guarantees. And while it was natural for parents to worry about their children, Jacob seemed to worry more than most. He must have been frantic about Caitlin’s behavior to bring her to Montana. Riding horses and working with range cattle was worlds away from going to a safe, air-conditioned movie theater.

“For what it’s worth, I think Caitlin is a good kid at heart,” Mariah said awkwardly. “I realize she has problems you’re trying to—”

“Problems?” The word burst out of him. “You could say that. Kittie set fire to her school gymnasium last Wednesday.”

The impulsive revelation was a shock, yet Mariah couldn’t believe the girl who’d panicked thinking a wolf might have eaten her father would deliberately set a fire. Besides, Jacob O’Donnell might be able to buy his way out of most of Caitlin’s mistakes, but arson would surely have landed her in juvenile court.

“How did it happen?”

“It wasn’t on purpose. She tried to hide the cigarette she was sneaking without putting it out. Kids are kids—they get in trouble,” he said, an aggressive thrust to his chin. “I only told you in case she mentions it and you get the wrong idea.”

“I see.” Mariah released the breath she’d been holding. Smoking was less worrisome than arson, and she could make inquiries to be sure Jacob was telling her the full story and not the sanitized version. “Does she have any cigarettes with her now?”

“Of course not.”

There wasn’t any “of course” about it, but Mariah didn’t want to antagonize him further by pointing that out.

“I’m going to check on my daughter.” Without another word, Jacob urged his horse into a trot. The tension in Caitlin’s body increased visibly as he rode up by her.

Mariah gazed at the O’Donnells and the calf and beyond at the tree-studded hills. Thank goodness she didn’t have the same problems with her brother as Jacob had with Caitlin.

Setting fire to the school?

Lord.

She began mentally reviewing the locations of the U-2’s fire hoses and extinguishers.

* * *

AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, Jacob stepped under a spray of water and rubbed soap on his chest. He was grateful they’d gotten back to the ranch center early—between cows, horses, sweat and dirt, he’d never needed a shower more.

The high window in the concrete shower stall was open and he saw Mariah Weston and her brother standing by the foremost barn. The afternoon sun turned her auburn hair into a dark flame, painting her curves with light and shadow, and he felt another unwelcome flash of attraction. She was so different from Anna it seemed almost disloyal to find her sexually appealing.

Not that he was a monk.

He dated and enjoyed an occasional discreet liaison as long as it was understood he didn’t want anything permanent. Lately, though, he’d hardly looked at women, what with Kittie acting out every parent’s nightmare. So it didn’t make sense that someone as impossible as Mariah was getting to him, even in passing. Hell, if nothing else, the jagged white scar he’d spotted on her left forearm and the half-healed gash on her right palm should be enough to warn him off.

How had she acquired those injuries?

A hundred disturbing possibilities came to mind, each attached to the knowledge that the same things could happen to Kittie. And it would be his fault for bringing her to Montana. Parenting had land mines he couldn’t have imagined fifteen years ago when he was debating with Anna whether it was too soon to start a family. He’d wanted to wait until he graduated and was established in his career, but she’d talked him into fatherhood without too much effort...the same way she’d talked him into everything.

Before long Reid went into the barn and Mariah stood there alone. For somebody operating a vacation business that ran on goodwill, she had a strange way of communicating with paying guests. Yet Jacob shifted uneasily. Strange wasn’t quite the best description; it was more a brutal honesty with a dash of temper. Still, the honesty was from her point of view, and it didn’t make her right.

Kids might grow up faster on a ranch than in the city, but he saw no reason for Kittie to grow up faster than she already had—particularly if it meant taking unnecessary gambles with her safety. Adulthood would come soon enough.

He did respect the way Mariah had treated the cow. Getting close to a wild, thrashing animal took guts; it had convinced him she was a genuine rancher, not just a figurehead. What Mariah didn’t understand was that Kittie had wanted him to help, and failing the request had put a new black mark on his parental report card.

He ducked under the showerhead and scrubbed his hair, aware that working with an outraged cow had also seemed easier than dealing with his own child. What kind of father did that make him?

He groaned.

It was so frustrating. One minute Kittie seemed almost like her old self; the next she was at her worst. Nobody else was bothered by her lightning mood swings, and why should they be? She wasn’t their daughter.

He hadn’t been this scared since Anna died.

When Jacob peered through the window again, Mariah was gone. Instead he saw Kittie. She walked to the barn, peeked around carefully and then went inside.

Crap.

He got out and grabbed a towel. Kittie had a crush on Reid Weston, and she’d already disappeared a couple of times—disappearances she hadn’t explained. Reid might have snubbed Kittie when they first met, but he was a teenage boy, and Jacob didn’t trust teenage boys.

After all, he used to be one himself.

* * *

I WISH MOM AND DAD were here.

Reid Weston spread fresh straw in the horse stalls, the familiar refrain going through his mind. If his parents were alive, they’d be managing the ranch and Mariah would be a veterinarian. But they weren’t and she wasn’t. She’d quit school after the accident and returned home.

And nothing had ever been the same again.

He blinked furiously and forked a load of straw into the last stall. Mostly he missed his mom and dad, but it would be nice not to feel guilty that Mariah had left school to take care of him and the ranch. She’d given up her lifelong dream of becoming a vet.

Another twist of guilt hit Reid’s midriff. He wanted to be a veterinarian, too. Yet how could he go away to college and leave Mariah in Montana to deal with everything on her own? On top of all the other stuff she took care of, she ran the business end of the ranch by herself, doing what their parents used to do together. And Reid knew that they couldn’t afford extra payroll costs, much less school expenses, no matter what Mariah claimed.

He wasn’t blind. No one talked about it, but he knew that if it wasn’t for the ranch finances and being responsible for him, Mariah and Luke would have already gotten married. Instead, his sister was working herself silly running the vacation business and taking on more and more of the things Granddad handled so he could retire. Never mind that Granddad didn’t want to retire.

“Why don’t you like me?” asked a voice suddenly from the barn door.

Damn.

It was that city brat. Kittie. He’d avoided her for a day, but his luck had run out.

Reid spread the straw more thoroughly than necessary. “I don’t dislike you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It isn’t you I don’t like. It’s where you...” Reid stopped, realizing how dumb it sounded to say that he didn’t like her because a drunk driver from Seattle had killed his folks and that was where she came from. Maybe it was dumb. He’d have to give it some thought.

“If it isn’t me, then what is it?” Kittie insisted.

“Just take my word, it isn’t personal.” He hung the pitchfork on the wall and dusted his hands. The kid might not be so odd if her hair wasn’t so weird. And he should be polite—it was what his mom and dad would have expected. “I’m going to see that cow you brought in. You can come if you want.”

Kittie bobbed her head eagerly. “Mariah says she’ll be all right.”

“She ought to be. My sister has a knack with hurt animals.”

“My dad thinks she’s hot,” Kittie said matter-of-factly as she tagged along. “I can tell from the way he checked her out yesterday. He thinks I don’t notice that stuff, but I do.”

Reid didn’t break step. O’Donnell wouldn’t get anywhere with Mariah—the night before he’d overheard his sister telling Grams that he was an obnoxious jerk who thought his money was better than anyone else’s. At any rate, Mariah didn’t go for men wanting a vacation fling. Short-timers were a regular feature at the ranch; they could try hitting on her, but they never got out of the gate.

“Are breasts really that important to guys?” Kittie asked.

That stopped Reid in his tracks. He stared at her, nonplussed. “What?”

“I mean, nobody will date me unless I have bigger boobs. Isn’t that right?”

She looked so miserable that he was doubly at a loss for words. “Uh...well...uh...different guys like different stuff. We’re not all the same.”

It was a lame thing to say and Kittie obviously agreed. “Oh, sure. Some guys prefer brains and personality.”

Reid could have told her she wasn’t doing any better in the brains and personality department, but she’d probably try to scratch his eyes out. He could take her down easily, except Granddad would kick his butt for fighting with a girl and her dad would only make things harder for Mariah.

“You’ve just got to grow...er...up more,” he mumbled, wishing he was on another planet. “You could be like your mom. Do you know when she got...bigger?”

“Not really. She was awful pretty, though, and Dad says I’m like her.” Yet Kittie’s face became glummer. “I don’t know much about my mom ’cept she first got sick in high school. Real sick. They tried to make her better, only it didn’t work or stay that way or something.” All at once Kittie seemed alarmed. “Please don’t tell my dad.”

“About what?” Reid couldn’t think of anything he’d want to tell Kittie’s father, especially about her questions. Honestly, asking how he felt about breasts? The brat didn’t have a lick of sense.

“Nothing. N-nothing I said.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

He headed again for the corral where they’d put the mother and calf. It was in the rear of the far barn where she wouldn’t be upset by too much activity. Range cattle had little contact with humans and didn’t take kindly to being penned at the best of times. True to form, the mother cow grunted and moved in front of her baby, stamping the ground in warning.

Reid ran a practiced gaze over her and the feed box. Her muzzle was wet, so she’d obviously drunk some water. And a portion of the feed had been eaten. Not bad after getting roped, stitched, dosed and confined.

“How is she?” Kittie rested her arms on the top fence rail, the same as him, but she had to stretch to do it.

“Not bad, considering.”

“What would have happened if we never found her?”

Reid thought of the animals they lost each year. Life was hard on the range; he couldn’t sugarcoat it. “Could have died. The baby is too young to survive on its own, and the mother’s wound was infected. But even if you hadn’t located them, someone else would probably have come along.”

Footsteps came from behind them and Reid grimaced at the sight of Kittie’s father. “Mr. O’Donnell.”

“Hello, Reid. I haven’t seen much of you since we got here.” There was a faint emphasis on the I and a hidden query whether another O’Donnell had seen him before now.

Reid tipped his hat back. As if he’d be interested in a city runt with an attitude. “Stands to reason—I’ve been busy and I’m not your wrangler.”

“That sounds like something your sister would say.”

“Yup. Some things run in families.”

O’Donnell flicked a look at Kittie, whose attention was no longer on the mother cow and her calf. “I guess.”

“Dad, am I really, truly like Mom?” Kittie asked intently.

A smile softened O’Donnell’s expression. “Really and truly, sweetheart. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

“I... Whatever.” Kittie pressed her lips together and turned back to the corral.

“I’ve got work to do,” Reid said, deciding it was time to escape. “Don’t stay long, and don’t get near the mama or her baby. It’ll make them nervous.” With a curt nod to Jacob O’Donnell, he strode away.

All in all, he felt kind of sorry for Kittie. Her dad was rich, so she had plenty of money, but apparently her mom was dead, and he knew exactly how that felt.

Lousy.