Читать книгу The Ranch Solution - Julianna Morris, Julianna Morris - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

LATE IN THE EVENING Mariah reviewed and accepted four reservations for July and added them to the chart where she tracked which wrangler was assigned to each group of visitors.

She leaned back in the office chair and rotated her shoulders to loosen her tight muscles. The gray tiger-striped cat on her lap protested the movement before settling down again. Squash was a fine old fellow, preferring long naps these days to terrorizing mice the way he used to when he was younger.

The U-2 was now fully booked for June, mostly booked for July and had more than half their openings taken for August—recent good news on the economic front had bumped their bookings considerably. Regular, middle-class people hesitated to go on vacations when the economy was bad. The ranch didn’t get many guests with Jacob O’Donnell’s wealth—the whole sleeping-in-a-tent thing generally turned them off.

Hmm.

What should she do about the O’Donnell family?

Jacob was different from their other guests in more ways than just the generous size of his bank account. He wasn’t curious about ranching or the stuff that brought most people to Montana, yet he and his daughter were staying for several weeks. The only thing recommending him was the way he sat a horse. It might have been years since he’d ridden, but he seemed at ease in the saddle.

Years...

A wicked grin crossed Mariah’s face. She didn’t care how great Jacob O’Donnell was on a horse—he was going to wake up in the morning with the biggest case of sore butt ever. It was inevitable. You didn’t ride for the first time in ages and get away unscathed. The interesting part would be whether he pretended it was all right or asked Grams for liniment and aspirin to relieve the aches and pains.

She was betting his pride would win.

“It wasn’t nice to tell Mr. O’Donnell that he’d have an aching bum tomorrow,” she whispered to the fur ball curled up on her thighs. “Not nice at all.”

Squash gazed at Mariah drowsily. He was accustomed to having conversations with her in the middle of the night. She’d adopted him from one of the barn cat’s litters when she was thirteen—he’d listened to the highs and lows of her high-school years, sulked when she was away at school and was the confidant she had needed when her parents died. She’d told Squash the things she couldn’t tell anybody, even Luke. Squash didn’t judge; he just purred and blinked at her.

“I’m usually much nicer to our guests. And I bet now he’ll feel that he has to prove something by being an iron man.”

Or maybe not.

It probably didn’t matter to rich men what “the help” thought of them, and that was what she and her wranglers were to Jacob O’Donnell...the hired hands who were supposed to shut up and obey his commands.

Ha.

A lot of visitors came to the U-2 again and again because they loved the ranch. Some of them had to save awhile for their vacations, but they arrived excited to be there once more. It was why Mariah had begun offering a 10 percent discount for return visits, and she wouldn’t let a spoiled entrepreneur with a chip on his shoulder ruin anyone else’s trip.

The computer pinged, alerting her that she had an email waiting. She toggled to the message program and saw it was from Luke.

Still mad at me? Up late with a mare dropping a foal. Thinking of you and wondering if you are awake. Love, L.

Mariah smiled and typed a reply.

Not mad. Trying to decide what to do with Jacob O’Donnell and his daughter. He’s impossible. At least he didn’t go out of his way at dinner to annoy me. M.

Yet she wavered as the cursor hovered over the send button on the computer monitor.... Maybe she shouldn’t say anything about Jacob O’Donnell. She deleted the note and started again.

No, not mad anymore. Was it Little Foot having her foal? I’m juggling reservations and the schedule. Got a few days’ work for two of your cowhands in the second week of June, if you can spare them. M.

She reread the text and sent it. That was much better. When the U-2 was heavily booked, they hired additional wranglers from neighboring ranches, sometimes the ranchers themselves when things were slow. Ranching had its lean years and the extra income could come in handy. She didn’t go to Luke very often, since he was primarily a cow and horse breeder and didn’t have the same financial ups and downs as some of the other ranches—he shipped prize-bull semen all over the world and got paid extremely well for it.

Another message came right back.

Yeah, it was Little Foot. You can have Pedro and Tommy in June. They’re best with people. Call me if you’re not too tired. Love, L.

Mariah lifted the phone and dialed.

“I hope this is an obscene caller,” Luke said when he answered.

“I don’t have the energy to be obscene.”

“Me, either. Little Foot had me worried at the end.”

“You should have let me know. I would have come over.”

“By the time it seemed there might be a problem, it was too late to get you here.” Dull thuds sounded through the line and she figured Luke had pulled off his boots and thrown them across the room. “She’s a small mare and it was her first, but Dr. Crandall thought I could handle it. He wasn’t able to come when Little Foot went into labor—he was working on a German shepherd that someone brought into the clinic. She was found on the highway. I’ll bet some damned fool didn’t tie her properly in their truck and she either jumped or was thrown out when they were screaming down the road.”

“That’s awful.” It infuriated Mariah when she saw kids or dogs in an open pickup. Luke felt the same—they’d seen it turn out badly too often.

“I guess she was pretty busted up, but Doc thinks she has a chance. Anyhow, it was a really big colt. I don’t know where Little Foot was hiding so much baby.”

Having assisted at births where the foal seemed impossibly large, Mariah chuckled in sympathy. Most of her experience with animals came from years of ranch life and tagging after the local veterinarian. In college it was often a question of associating technical terms with something she already knew, which enabled her to carry a heavier course load than her fellow students. Back then she’d been in a hurry to get through school so she could take over for Dr. Crandall; now he had to find another vet to buy the practice. Mariah minded Dr. Crandall being unable to retire almost as much as she missed being a veterinarian herself—Doc couldn’t keep working forever.

She shifted and Squash dug the tips of his claws into her skin as a warning to stay put. “Tell me about the new arrival. I remember you bred Little Foot later than usual last year.”

“He’s exactly what I was hoping for—a chestnut, same as Little Foot, with her sleek, clean lines. Look, I gotta grab a shower and hit the sack. I just wanted to hear your voice before going to bed.”

The comment surprised her. It wasn’t like Luke to be sentimental.

“Oh, okay. Sleep well.”

“You, too.”

Mariah hung up and put her cat on the floor so she could do a walk-through in the guest area. She’d intended to get down there earlier—someone else had mentioned the noise from Susan and Chad’s tent, saying the newlyweds were “enthusiastic about their honeymooning.” It was said with a grin, but Mariah didn’t want the situation to escalate again.

Outside, the stars blazed across the sky and she walked in their faint glimmer to the slope opposite the house, Pip at her heels. Things seemed fairly peaceful. Susan and Chad were in a tent set apart from the main group—they were whispering and smothering a laugh as she passed, but it wasn’t too loud.

It would be noisier when more kids were visiting the ranch after school got out for summer vacation. Nobody could chatter like two girls making friends.

A guest, Judy Hartner, mumbled “Hi” to Mariah as she stumbled toward the restroom wearing flip-flops and a jacket over her pajamas.

Pip’s eyes pricked forward when he saw a light shining from one side of the O’Donnells’ tent. She could see the wheels turning in his mind...the hope of another midnight snack. He let out a yip and whined.

“No,” she breathed.

She slapped her thigh to get Pip’s attention and he followed her to the barn. The cowhands made rounds to check on the animals, but it didn’t hurt to check on them herself. Most of the horses were asleep and didn’t stir as she switched on the lights and looked into each stall; they were used to familiar people coming in at night. But Shadow peered out the moment he caught her scent.

“Hello, boy.”

He nudged her shoulder and she rubbed his velvety black nose. Extending his neck over the stable door, he sniffed her pocket with unerring accuracy.

Mariah laughed. “Okay, okay.” She took out the carrot she’d brought from the house and he crunched it down. “You are one pampered pony.”

“Pony?” said a voice.

Startled, Mariah spun, her heart pounding. His tail wagging furiously, Pip dashed to greet Jacob. This was the human being who’d provided him, however unwittingly, with a steak dinner. Without much effort, Jacob could be a friend for life, yet he didn’t pet Pip or even greet him.

Pip cocked his head, puzzled. “Rrrrffff.”

“Just a minute, boy,” he murmured. “I’m a little stiff.” He bent and gave Pip a slow stroke on his shoulders. The canine wriggled with delight.

Mariah raised her eyebrows. So Jacob was acknowledging he hadn’t escaped the day unscathed. Of course, he might be sorry he’d said anything in the morning...but he was going to be sorry, period. She knew what happened when you went riding after a long absence.

“I don’t suppose your grandmother has a hot tub filled with that liniment you referred to this morning,” Jacob said, straightening. “I’d like to spend the rest of the night in it. And maybe tomorrow.”

The corner of her mouth twitched—she hadn’t expected him to have a sense of humor. “No, but an economy tube is available. I’ll unlock the dispensary for you. It doesn’t require an M.D. to hand out, though Grams prefers to manage first-aid services herself.”

“Don’t bother for tonight. I’ll survive...barely,” he added in a droll tone. “By the way, was your grandmother responsible for laundering my shirt after Pip used it as a doggy bowl? I threw it away, but found it in my tent this evening. My dry cleaner would claim it was impossible to get those grease stains out, and it looks perfect.”

“Possibly. Grams has many talents.” Mariah motioned at Pip to come to her. Some people didn’t like dogs—especially large ones—and there was definitely a lot of Pip to go around. “I was doing a quick patrol and saw your lantern was on. Are you having trouble dropping off after drinking all that coffee, or did Pip wake you up?”

“I drank the coffee for a reason. I’m reading contracts coming up for renewal in November and December.”

Contracts?

Naturally. What else?

He’d acted aloof and bored at the informal after-dinner social hour. Activity in the fresh air sent most of their visitors to bed by nine or ten, but first they mingled—singing or chatting or playing games in the mess tent. Jacob hadn’t participated; instead, he’d sat in the back, radiating tension, drinking regular coffee instead of decaf.

On the flip side, while Caitlin hadn’t been the soul of the party, she had played a game of checkers with Burt and gobbled down two servings of peach cobbler, topped by chocolate cake with ice cream and a glass of milk. Whatever was bothering her, it wasn’t her appetite. Since getting to the U-2, she’d eaten the same as any other teenager with a bottomless pit in place of a stomach.

“I see.”

She’d tried not to sound critical, but Jacob looked defensive. “I waited until Kittie was asleep before starting. And you’re working, too. How long a day does that make for you?”

“Summer is hectic. It’s a family business. We all work.”

“You have employees. Ever consider delegating?”

Delegating? Mariah pressed her lips together. She didn’t need management advice from a city-dwelling, money-obsessed workaholic. Delegation was fine, but everyone on the ranch had duties that kept them busy. As the business manager, she took care of odd tasks such as walking through the U-2’s tent town to see if the newlyweds were engaging in noisy sex and disturbing anyone.

“We get by,” she said finally.

Shadow nickered softly and nuzzled her neck, a reminder that the U-2 was about more than ledger sheets and keeping score with dollars and cents.

Mariah smiled, and this time Shadow got the apple she’d put in her left pocket. “And it isn’t just about the bottom line at the ranch. For example, when Shadow was born, I spent the entire night out here. Drowsed on a pile of hay with his head on my knee. And I’ll take that over curling up with a contract any day.”

“Don’t horses sleep standing up?”

“Nope. That’s kind of a myth. They go half-asleep on their feet, a part of their brain remaining alert for approaching danger. It’s a survival instinct—that way they can go from a drowsing state to running in nothing flat. But for deep sleep, they have to lie down. It’s complicated because lying down too long can also be a problem.”

She stroked the stallion’s mane. His coat gleamed from the thorough currying she’d given him. Unless she was occupied with an emergency, Mariah groomed Shadow herself, making sure he was clean and comfortable. She did it because she loved him, not because he contributed to the U-2’s profits. When you were responsible for animals that depended on you for food and health and comfort, you’d best care about them, or find something else to do.

Mariah glanced at Jacob. He was dressed in the jeans and shirt he’d worn to dinner. Surprisingly, he looked so relaxed and gorgeous in them, no one would ever guess he had arrived at the ranch in a business suit. He’d probably end up sleeping in his clothes if he planned to study paperwork the whole night. Didn’t he realize getting rest was important for dealing with Caitlin and her issues?

“Do you enjoy reading contracts, Mr. O’Donnell?”

He looked taken aback. “I told you, it’s Jacob, and I’ve never thought about it. Contracts are part of the process. You have your lawyers evaluate them carefully and do it yourself as well if you’re the cautious type. Their lawyers do the same, and the agreement goes back and forth.”

It didn’t appeal to Mariah in the slightest. He must spend more on legal fees than the U-2 made in a year, visitors and cattle sales combined.

“These agreements shouldn’t be as bad. All parties want to renew, and we’ve done business with them for a while.” Jacob continued, “The paperwork simply needs updating.”

Yet he was up at one in the morning, ostensibly on vacation, reading legalese. One thing she could say for Jacob O’Donnell was that she doubted he was underhanded in his business—a man like him couldn’t afford to be dishonest.

“By the way, how is the cut on your palm doing?” he asked. “It couldn’t have been easy treating a wild cow with an injury.”

Mariah frowned, confused. “My palm... Oh.”

She flexed her right hand—she’d practically forgotten getting hurt. Aunt Lettie had taken the stitches out yesterday—she’d said it was healing well, just warned her not to do much lifting for another week to avoid reopening the wound.

“I’m fine. I have to wear gloves for work like shoveling out the stables and mending fences until it toughens up, but I usually wear them anyhow. We don’t stop for little stuff.”

“It doesn’t look little.” Jacob stepped closer. “How did you get cut if you use gloves for heavy-duty work?”

Realization dawned on Mariah; he was worried the same thing could happen to Caitlin. He didn’t have to be concerned. Unless his daughter was a klutz in the kitchen, there wasn’t any danger of a repeat incident. Besides, while the guests took turns helping with meals, they had a rule that no one under the age of eighteen handled the knives.

“I cut it in the outdoor kitchen—our version of the cattle trail chuck wagon. I’m not much at cooking and got distracted slicing potatoes. Reggie, our cook, has now banned me from doing anything except washing dirty dishes, fetching coffeepots and saying hello. He didn’t appreciate having to wash up and start over with the spuds.”

Surprisingly, Jacob smiled. He was even more attractive when he did that, and Mariah felt guilty for noticing. Yet it really wasn’t a big deal—Luke was a terrific guy, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t take pleasure in the view. She didn’t expect him to wear blinders if a well-rounded woman crossed his path. It wouldn’t be reasonable.

“That’s a rough way of getting out of doing something you don’t like,” Jacob said.

“I don’t dislike cooking. I’m just no good at it. My mom gave up...and now Grams has given up on me, too.” She bumped Pip with her foot. “Let’s go, boy.”

* * *

JACOB HOOKED HIS THUMBS in his jeans pocket and watched Mariah slip out of the barn, the dog at her side.

He wasn’t sure why he’d followed Mariah after hearing her walk past his tent on the hill—maybe for someone to talk to or simple curiosity about why she was awake, the same as him. She was an interesting woman, and her affinity with animals was striking. The black horse, goofy-eyed when she was teasing him, was suspicious and stamping the ground now that she’d gone. He’d bet that Pip or Shadow would go into fire for her. And she’d even managed to soothe the range cow crazed with fear and anger and pain. Maybe ranchers developed those skills since animals were their bread and butter, yet he suspected Mariah’s abilities went beyond average.

Jacob stretched cautiously, trying to relax his muscles. He missed the scents of the city and the faint hum of traffic that penetrated their loft. Seven years ago he’d bought an old commercial building in North Seattle and converted the second floor and parts of the third into a spacious home overlooking Lake Union. There were interesting features left from the original industrial use, but it had the advantages of modern conveniences. He hadn’t decided what to do with the remaining space, though he’d created a five-car garage on the ground level.

The ranch, on the other hand, was too quiet to sleep unless he was dead tired the way he had been the previous night.

Jacob stepped out of the barn and closed the door. At the tent he peeked into Kittie’s side. He could barely make out his daughter’s outline in the dark. She stirred restlessly, muttering, and Jacob’s heart ached more than his sore body.

He went into his own side and turned on the battery-powered lamp by the mattress. Gingerly lowering himself, he thumbed through the next contract. He’d arranged to have a courier pick all of them up in a couple of days so his lawyers could go over his notes. They ordinarily communicated via email, but the U-2 didn’t see a need to provide wireless internet, so he’d been forced to make other arrangements.

Yet even as Jacob thought about it, a twinge of guilt hit him. The U-2 hadn’t claimed to provide internet, any more than they’d claimed to provide designer coffee or hotel rooms with hot baths and daily maid service.

He’d contacted Gretchen that morning to let her know he wasn’t available online. She’d checked and discovered his cell phone could be used as a modem on the computer; he just required the accessories and would be back on the Net as soon as they were delivered. It went to show that a top executive assistant was more valuable to him than a dozen vice presidents. Gretchen would be getting a sizable bonus.

Do you enjoy reading contracts...

Crossly, Jacob tried to push Mariah’s question from his mind. He had read hundreds of contracts over the years, and while some were more tedious than others, the idea of enjoying or not enjoying the task had never occurred to him. It was merely something to be done. Yet, as he stared at the words on the page, he knew it was the most boring aspect of his work. He didn’t even sign the majority of the contracts within the company, only the major ones. Of course, executive meetings also weren’t his favorite thing, any more than reviewing the reorganization plans some managers regularly submitted instead of really addressing problems they had likely created themselves.

All at once he threw the papers aside and snapped off the light. With the caffeine coursing through his bloodstream, he might not get much rest, but he could try.

* * *

REID TOSSED HIS BOOKS into the bed of the pickup. Thursday and Friday were short days at school to let the staff get ready for final exams. What he didn’t understand was why they’d bothered having classes in the first place. Everybody goofed off on short days, even the teachers. He had better things to do than listen to Art Blanco cut up or Joey Newton brag about his new dirt bike. And when Mr. Matano began telling stories of his stint in marine boot camp, everybody’s eyes glazed over.

“Hey, Reid,” said a voice behind him.

It was Laura Shelton and he smiled; Laura was real easy on the eyes. “Hey, Laura.”

“The first barn dance is this Saturday, isn’t it?”

He almost snorted. A bunch of the girls had asked the same thing, and they all knew darned well when the dances started for the season. The U-2 held weekly barn dances throughout the summer for both their visitors and the local folks. For twenty-four years they’d begun the third Saturday in May and ended the second Saturday in September, unless it snowed.

“Yup, the third Saturday in May, same as usual.”

“Does Mariah need help? I could get there early.”

“Naw, she’s got it covered.”

It wasn’t the first offer that Reid had gotten, but Mariah had nixed his classmates from coming early. She said the girls flirted with the younger wranglers and they got less done.

“It’d be great if you could bring your chocolate chip-cookies, though,” he said when Laura’s smile disappeared. “The ones you won a prize for at the county fair.”

She brightened. “I’ll bake several batches.”

He was about to say one batch would be enough seeing as there were always plenty of sweets, but had a hunch she’d be pissed. Girls got a knot in their rope about the strangest things. “Uh...sure. Only don’t work too hard. Want a ride home?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

Reid opened the passenger door the way his dad had taught him and offered a hand. Laura climbed in, a pleasant-smelling mix of curves and long legs. He liked girls. They were bewildering and giggled too much, but as Granddad said, they had compensations.

Before he got into the truck himself, he sent a text on his cell to Mariah and his grandparents. He knew it had been a struggle for them to let him start driving to school, so he tried to let them know any time he expected a delay.

It wasn’t far to Laura’s house. The Sheltons had a small spread that was closer to town than the U-2 and right off the main road. Her dad ran some cattle, but he also did the farrier work in the area. He called himself a blacksmith, but he didn’t do any true blacksmithing. Horseshoes were mostly mass-produced—not like in the Old West—though you still wanted an expert to put shoes on a horse.

Once they arrived, he got out of the truck and waved to Mrs. Shelton as he opened the door again for Laura. She was hanging sheets and towels on the clothesline and waved back.

“How are you, Reid?”

“Fine, ma’am. And you?”

“Couldn’t be better. Tell Mariah we’re looking forward to the dance on Saturday.”

“I’ll do that, ma’am. And let Mr. Shelton know the shoeing job he did on Buttons was just fine.” He turned to Laura. “See you at school.”

“Bye. Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” He tipped his hat to them both and drove home.

When he got there, he could hear Mariah in the office talking. On the way to find out if she wanted him for anything, he stopped by the fridge and found a bowl of fried chicken. It was crisp and spicy, just the way he liked it. He headed to the rear of the house, munching happily on a piece.

“Yes, I know it’s confidential,” Mariah was assuring someone on the phone. “I simply—”

She stopped, apparently interrupted by the person on the other end of the line.

“I don’t need the child’s name, I already know her name. Uh...can you wait a moment?” Mariah covered the speaker and looked at Reid. “Hi. I see you’re eating lunch. Be sure to have potato chips or a hot-fudge sundae to go with it—you know, something healthy.”

He swallowed a bite and grinned. “You sound like Grams. If she doesn’t want me to eat fried chicken, she shouldn’t make it.”

“Once a week she indulges us so she can pretend to be an old-fashioned granny. Now go away. Take Buttons for a ride or put your feet up in the hammock and sleep.”

“I have time for chores. We have a short day again tomorrow and our finals don’t start until next week. Anything special you need me to do?”

Mariah sighed. “You’ve stayed up late studying for a week. Let the chores go and relax this afternoon. Shoo.”

That was nice of Mariah. But he wasn’t going to listen to her, not when she was working her ass off. He collected another piece of chicken and went to change out of his school clothes. No doubt there was a stable with straw and horse manure in need of shoveling.

* * *

MARIAH PUT THE RECEIVER to her ear. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Officer Giles. As I was going to explain, I simply want to speak with the police officer who investigated the fire at the Garrison Academy. I’m aware that a minor’s record is confidential—I want to discuss the fire itself. That part of the report should be public record, correct?”

“Very well, it was Officer Rizolli who handled that case,” the public-affairs liaison told her reluctantly. “I’ll transfer you to his desk.”

Mariah waited, her patience stretched to the limit. She’d spent an hour trying to reach someone who could talk to her about the incident at Caitlin O’Donnell’s school. Honestly, how many times could she be transferred with nothing productive coming of it? And how many times could she explain she wasn’t asking for confidential information? Heck, she knew who’d started the fire.

“This is Officer Don Rizolli,” said a deep voice. “How can I help you?”

“Officer Rizolli...” Mariah rocked forward and wrote down the name. “Hello. Did you investigate a fire that occurred at the Garrison Academy in the past two weeks? It’s a private, rather exclusive high school in North Seattle, near Ballard, I think.”

“I’m familiar with the facility. I was called in by the school authorities after the blaze.”

She practically fell off her chair. Could she actually have reached the right person? “I’m relieved to get through to you finally. The young lady who was responsible for the incident is visiting our ranch and I need to know the...the circumstances. Rest assured I’m not asking for information about Caitlin. Her father tells me it was an accident, but I want to get that from an unbiased source. We’ve had a dry year in Montana, though fire is always a concern for us.”

“I see. What is the name of your ranch?”

“The U-2. If you want to check us out on the internet, our website is U2RanchVacations.com. I can hold while you’re looking.”

She waited, hearing the click of a keyboard in the background. She’d done her share of web surfing before making her calls to Seattle. Caitlin had mentioned to Ray Cassidy that she attended school at Garrison Academy, which turned out to be an outrageously expensive educational institution. Mariah had contacted the academy first, but the principal had not been forthcoming; she hadn’t expected him to be—advertising a fire wouldn’t encourage student enrollment, no matter what the cause.

“And to whom am I speaking?” queried Officer Rizolli after a few minutes.

“I should have introduced myself. I’m Mariah Weston, the U-2’s business manager.”

“The owner, too, I presume. According to your online description, the Weston family has owned the ranch for several generations.”

“Yes, the U-2 is family owned.” Mariah tapped her pencil on a pad of paper. Phone numbers and other notes were scribbled over it, along with the doodles she’d done during her numerous waits on hold.

“Tell me what you need to know, Ms. Weston.”

“Mostly what I said...whether or not it was deliberate. Caitlin appears to be a good kid, but I can’t allow a budding arsonist to stay at the ranch. Parents can be reluctant to admit problems with their children, and I don’t believe her father had planned on telling me about the fire. It just slipped out in a conversation.”

“I can give you a general account of the incident,” Officer Rizolli said slowly. “The student was sneaking a cigarette in the girls’ locker room. She hid it in a trash can when a teacher entered the gymnasium unexpectedly. The paper caught fire, then a wood bench and a cabinet where the towels were stored. Fortunately, there were limited combustibles in the area since the floors are stone-and-glass tile and the lockers are metal.”

“You don’t have any reservations about the situation?”

“I’m confident it was an accident, Ms. Weston, and so is the fire chief. I also spoke with the school counselor. The student tried to put the flames out with an extinguisher and pulled the fire alarm when she was unsuccessful. Nobody was injured, including the young lady at fault.”

The knot in Mariah’s stomach began to loosen. She’d never forgotten a frightening drought-stricken summer when she was a child. Dry lightning had set dozens of fires on the ranch and her parents had canceled all the guest reservations to protect both their visitors and the U-2. For two months they’d lived with a silent, uneasy anticipation of something that might happen.

“That’s a relief to hear.”

“I understand, Ms. Weston. I’ve dealt with juvenile arson and it isn’t pretty. You’re wise to be cautious, but I wouldn’t worry on this particular count. I...” He hesitated. “I couldn’t let the parent or student know how I felt, but I was rather sorry for her. She was truly terrified, though by the time her father arrived, she’d masked it well with belligerence.”

Mariah laughed. “Having met Caitlin, I can imagine. She has attitude to spare. I appreciate your speaking with me, Officer.”

“We’re here to help, Ms. Weston. I’m sorry you had trouble getting through.”

Mariah disconnected. In a way it would be easier to have an excuse to evict the O’Donnells, yet it was good to know she hadn’t read Caitlin wrong.

As for Jacob...the jury was still out. He wasn’t just a closed book she couldn’t fathom; he was an entire library of closed books.