Читать книгу The Rancher's Redemption - Melinda Curtis - Страница 11
ОглавлениеBEN SPENT THE rest of the afternoon and early evening at the kitchen table of his childhood home researching water rights and occasionally staring up at the pink-feathered chandelier above him.
He’d seen a lot of high-end apartments decorated by celebrated designers in New York, but he’d never seen the likes of that chandelier. Big E had to be going blind. There was no way his grandfather could sit underneath pink feathers and drink his morning coffee every day.
Watch out, boy. Men bend over backward for love.
His grandfather had told Ben that years ago. And now? Big E was like a pretzel.
When Ben had proposed to Zoe, he’d been naive. He’d thought his high school sweetheart wanted the same things he did—the finer things city life had to offer. He’d thought his grandfather wanted what was best for Ben when he’d made sure Zoe didn’t need to worry about spending on the wedding.
“Your grandfather took me shopping in Bozeman,” Zoe had said on the phone one night when Ben was in New York.
“Why?” Ben’s attention was still half focused on the wording in the legal brief he was crafting.
“Because he wants me—and you—to have the very best,” she’d replied in a stately voice.
Later, when Ben had asked his grandfather about his generosity, he’d scoffed and said it was nothing.
Today, looking around the remodeled kitchen with its frivolous decor, it looked like the Blackwell Ranch had money to burn. According to Ethan, that was far from the truth. But then, when had Big E been a proponent of the truth?
Ben had worked hard in law school, spent summers interning in Boston, passed the bar in New York on the second try and in Montana on the first, returning home to help Big E protect the ranch’s water interests after practicing law in New York for a few years. He should have known Big E had personal interests of his own.
“We have to disclose this to opposing council,” Ben had said when Big E showed him a yellowed piece of paper referring to the thin strip that divided the Double T from the Blackwell Ranch. “This says the land above the aquifer was traded by Mathias Blackwell to Seth Thompson in 1919 for a prize bull.” In which case, the Thompsons would have rights to the aquifer, not the Blackwells.
“No, not necessarily.” Big E closed the door to his study, affording them some privacy. “For all we know, there’s another deed for the parcel. Folks in this valley bartered back and forth with land all the time. The Blackwells have been paying taxes on that strip for decades. I don’t care what that paper says. It’s our land.”
“We won’t know for sure until I do a title search.” Protecting Blackwell assets required due diligence.
Ben was in a precarious position. He didn’t want the Double T to go under, but they might if their river water was restricted. If the Thompsons owned the strip of land and the aquifer rights, the river water would matter less.
“No title search.” Big E dragged the cigar chair to the left of the fireplace out of the way. He leaned down and pried a board up with a letter opener, revealing a small safe. He put the yellowed piece of paper inside. “This is a small county. You search for a title and pretty soon everyone knows we’re looking for something, and then someone will want to know what it is we’re looking for.” Big E got to his feet with a creak of bones and put his hands on his hips. “Next thing that happens is we’ve got less land and a need for water. Are you a Blackwell, or not? Are you going to be our lawyer, or not? Think about the repercussions before you betray attorney-client privilege.”
Ben hadn’t wanted to let the issue go, but he had in the end. Eventually, they’d won the river water rights, but Ben had felt guilty about the victory because his father wouldn’t have approved the means, and Rachel was his friend. Of course, he’d only had twenty-four hours to feel guilty about it before Zoe ran off with Big E, and Rachel tossed that in his face, along with their friendship.
“Hey, where were you?” Ethan returned to the house after dinner. He’d showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a green button-down. “Dinner service at the guest ranch was an hour ago. We were expecting you to lend a hand.”
“I’ve been busy.” Ben closed his laptop and the article about the revocation of rural water rights in nearby Gallatin County. “And before you get on me, I don’t take calls or answer texts when I’m preparing for court.” Ben glanced around the kitchen and at Ethan’s empty hands. “Didn’t you bring me something to eat?”
“No.” Ethan scowled. “You have to earn dinner. We’re all pitching in until Big E gets back.”
Ben pointed at his laptop. “I am pitching in.” He let annoyance trickle into his tone. “I’ve been working on something more important than making sure Zoe’s guests give the ranch a good rating on social media.”
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest.
“Come on, Ethan. Are you sure Big E went on vacation on impulse? Coincidentally right before the guest ranch opened its doors?” Ben hooked his arm over the back of his chair, not about to be a busboy in Zoe’s little side business. “Are you sure Big E didn’t take off because he didn’t want to be the host of a bed-and-breakfast? This could be a ploy to get someone else to do all the work.”
“This isn’t like the time he hid our truck keys until we fixed the roof on the barn.” Gone was the humor Ethan had greeted Ben with earlier in the day. “He and Zoe and the motorhome are gone. Big E’s voice-mail box is full. No word from them. No ransom note either, in case you were wondering.”
“There has to be some clue in Big E’s office as to where they went.” Ben got up and walked down the hall to their grandfather’s study.
“We searched in there already,” Ethan grumbled, following him.
“Is it normal for Big E and Zoe to take off like that?” Ben stepped into the room, trying to remember which floorboard his grandfather hid his safe under. “The sheriff doesn’t suspect foul play?”
“No.” The way Ethan said the word, the sheriff had probably laughed him and Jonathon out the door.
The study was the one room on the ground floor where nothing had changed. The same wide-topped solid oak desk. The same metal, olive-colored file cabinet. The same dark wood floors worn in front of the fireplace where Big E liked to pace.
And there, to the left of the hearth, was the leather cigar chair that stood guard over Big E’s floor safe. Was the paper documenting the land trade still inside? All Ben needed was the combination to find out.
“According to Jon, Big E and Zoe travel regularly in the motorhome.” Ethan moved to stare out the window, sounding preoccupied. “But this time they left without telling Katie or Lochlan or anyone where they were going or how long they’d be gone. And Big E didn’t move enough funds in the bank accounts to cover the checks Katie needed to write, like for feed and payroll.”
Ben stared at a photo of Big E on the mantel. He wore a dark suit and black bolo tie. He’d shaven and his peppery hair was neatly trimmed. Zoe leaned in to kiss his cheek. Her straight blond hair was framed by a white bridal veil.
Ben expected to feel pain in his chest, somewhere around the spot his heart was supposed to be. Jealousy. Loss. Betrayal.
He felt nothing, except...confusion.
His grandfather looked happy. And Zoe looked like a joyful, blushing bride.
Ben’s image of them had been clichéd. He’d pictured Big E with a depraved, triumphant attitude, as if he’d successfully pulled one over on Ben. He’d imagined Zoe with a cold look in her eye as she calculated the spending limit on the credit card Big E gave her.
“We should be worried,” Ben said reluctantly. “Couples in love don’t just disappear. I’d wonder about his sanity if he didn’t have Zoe with him.” And wasn’t that a change? Ben paying a backhanded compliment to his ex.
“I need to tell you something.” Ethan turned, looking as if he was about to go on the witness stand in a contentious case.
His brother’s heavy expression seemed to require lightening. “If you tell me you killed Big E in the library with a candlestick, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”
Ethan’s mouth was a flat line. This was either something grim, or Ethan had indeed killed their grandfather.
Ben swore. “Seriously, I would have studied criminal law if I knew you had a violent side.”
“It’s not that kind of news.” His twin shook his head. “I’m getting married.”
“To Sarah Ashley Gardner?” Please say no.
Ethan had been dangling from Sarah Ashley’s string since he was thirteen.
“No. To her kid sister. Grace.” That wasn’t concern lining Ethan’s face. It was defensiveness. “I love her. We’re going to have a baby.”
Ben had the strongest urge to close the distance between them and hug his twin. He glanced at the photo of Big E and Zoe and didn’t budge. “Congratulations.”
“Jon’s getting married, too, in case you hadn’t heard. Her name is Lydia and she’s great for Jon.”
Ben’s chest tightened. He felt like an outsider. They hadn’t told him their good news earlier. Of course, he’d refused the offer of a beer and a game of poker, during which they might have told him. “I’ll congratulate Jon next time I see him.”
“Grace has been helping at the guest ranch,” Ethan said. “But she’s tired and if you helped out—”
“If I helped out,” Ben cut his brother off, “I wouldn’t be prepared to defend the ranch’s water rights in court.” He had to be ready for whatever Rachel threw at him. “I’m here for one reason and one reason only. As your attorney.”
“Which is important to me. I want to start a veterinary practice here on the property once I get licensed in Montana.” Ethan rubbed a hand through his hair, still looking defensive. “Right now, I’m practicing under Norman Terry at the clinic in town. Most of my patients are pets of friends, our ranch livestock and the petting zoo animals.”
“A zoo?” Had he heard Ethan right? “When did a zoo open in town? And who was the fool who thought that was a good idea in Falcon Creek?”
“It’s a petting zoo. It was Zoe’s idea. And the guests really like it.” Ethan’s gaze swept the photos on the mantel. “I hate to admit it, but there might be something to the guest ranch. It could help the place stay afloat. You know, diversify income. That’s why the water rights are so important.”
Ben studied his brother the way he scrutinized an opposing counsel’s witness, looking for sincerity and certainty. Finding both, he asked, “Do you know why Rachel brought this lawsuit now?”
Ethan shook his head.
“Someone gave her the history of water use here on the ranch.” Ben couldn’t imagine Big E going that soft. Unless she’d gotten her figures from someone at the water company, the only other people with knowledge of and access to the water bills were Zoe, Katie Montgomery and her father, Lochlan, the ranch’s foreman. Lochlan had been managing things on the Blackwell Ranch for years and was as loyal as they came. Same for his daughter. “Now that Big E is acting irrationally, my money’s on Zoe.”
“Regardless, you’ll handle it,” Ethan said stiffly.
Standing so near his twin, the loss of their close relationship was an ache in Ben’s chest.
“Jon wants to sell the ranch,” Ethan blurted. “Combined, we can get a majority stake in the ranch and could wrest control from Big E. Jon’s going to call a vote. I want to stay. I’m staking my livelihood here. My future.” The words stopped tumbling out of his mouth, slowed, were given weight. “For the future of my child, Ben.”
Ben drew back. He knew what Ethan was asking. He wanted Ben’s vote to keep the Blackwell Ranch within the family. “And if I lose the water rights? What then?”
“Don’t talk like that. Dad wouldn’t want us to walk away from our heritage.” Ethan placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Maybe roots and family aren’t important to you, but they’re important to me. Think about the memories we had growing up here. Riding the range. Camping under the stars. Running around a safe little town. When you have kids someday—”
“Big E ruined that for me.” Ben brushed Ethan’s hand away. “The ranch, the town, my life.”
“I notice you didn’t say anything about a broken heart,” Ethan said softly. “Let it go, Ben. Move on.”
Never look back, boy.
“It’s kind of hard to move on when you’ve returned to the very spot where you started.” Ben hated that he sounded pathetic.
“Do you want me to say I’m sorry that I waited until I knew for sure they’d eloped? Because I will.” Ethan didn’t sound resentful or pompous. He sounded earnest. “I’m sorry I made sure you couldn’t catch up to the woman who didn’t love you. I’m sorry that meant you heard about their elopement from someone else in front of an audience. And...” Ethan shuffled his booted feet. “And I’m sorry we haven’t been close since then.”
“I...” Ben swallowed. An apology. It was what Ben had waited for. And yet, he didn’t know what to do.
Outside the window, the tire swing spun in the breeze.
“Higher!” a six-year-old Ben had demanded of their grandfather.
Ethan sat inside the tire swing while Ben stood on top of it. With each push from Big E, the wind had whistled past Ben’s ears almost as fast as when he rode Cisco, Jon’s bay mare.
His parents were cutting birthday cake for Tyler and Chance on the picnic table. Tyler swiped a glob of frosting and flung it in Chance’s dark hair. They giggled even as they tussled, trying to reach more cake.
Laughter. Smiles. The feeling that all was right with the Blackwells’ world and that they were invincible. When was the last time Ben had felt that way? He couldn’t remember. His life was a series of court cases where Ben protected big utility companies from greater consumer liability. Gas leaks. Energy surges. Fires sparked by downed power lines.
And the subsequent loss of life. There was no joy in putting a dollar figure on death. No laughter when negotiating with an attorney sitting next to a grieving, tear-stained mother holding a baby who’d never know her dad.
“I apologized,” Ethan said to Ben now, the light dimming in his eyes. He turned to go.
“Wait.” Ben had no idea what to say. The very air between them felt taut with tension. “Thank you.”
Ethan gave a jerky nod. “Now that we’ve dealt with that... I need you on my team. The way we used to be.” His words were stilted, as if he hadn’t practiced what he’d say and didn’t know how to say it now. “I can buy you out later.” He grimaced. “Well, not for a couple years. Student loans and...” Ethan drew a deep breath. “Just...don’t make a decision on selling now. Stop and think about it, for my sake.” He walked out.
Ben sank into the leather cigar chair. Ethan was getting married. He was going to be a father. He had his life planned out. Hopefully he was headed for happiness. A part of Ben wanted to crow with ironic laughter. And yet...
In rolled jealousy like a toxic tide, eating his insides.
Ben was thirty-two. Jobless. Wifeless. Childless. Back where he started. Back where everything went bad.
Never look back.
He wanted to side with Jon and sell the ranch. He wanted to put the ranch and the past behind him just like he was putting Transk, Ipsum & Levi in his rearview mirror.
They gave you the boot, boy.
Enough!
Ben moved the leather cigar chair to the left of the fireplace out of the way, pried the floorboard free and stared at the safe. Someone besides Big E had to have the combination. Katie or Lochlan were the most likely candidates.
His stomach growled. It was past dinnertime. He replaced the floorboard and went to the kitchen.
Ben surveyed the contents of the pantry and then the fridge. There wasn’t much to eat, not a fresh vegetable in the house. Canned green beans. Canned pork and beans. Canned chili beans. Even though there were low-salt and no-salt versions, everything was processed.
In New York, he’d have ordered something delivered. Beef stir-fry with quinoa sounded good. Sushi. Chicken chop salad.
You’ve gotten weak, boy.
No. The fact was he’d never learned to cook like an adult.
Big E’s idea of providing for five boys was to tell them to make something for themselves. He’d assigned them days of the week to cook dinner. Ben and his brothers had spent many nights in the kitchen baking frozen pizza and boiling hot dogs. Some of the Blackwell brothers had progressed to a cookbook. One winter, one of Big E’s wives had taught Jon the rudiments of the spice rack. Ben had survived college on dorm food, fruit, fast food and peanut butter sandwiches. Without takeout or delivery, he’d be resorting to the same.
Ben stared at the sparkly pink backsplash, the pink trimmed cabinets with glass knobs, the pink-feathered crystal chandelier.
Who’s gotten weak, old man?
He’d skip dinner. He’d go for a run.
Ben grabbed his suitcase and headed upstairs toward the bedroom he’d shared with Ethan growing up. He stopped in the doorway, nearly dropping his suitcase for the second time that day.
Zoe hadn’t contained her redecorating to the common areas.
Instead of bunk beds and two old oak dressers, there was a queen-size bed buried beneath a mountain of frilly pink pillows. The walls had gold-striped wallpaper. The curtains were sparkly silver and draped into a pool on the floor.
How much did this cost?
For the first time in five years, Ben almost felt sorry for his grandfather.
Ben slung his bag on the end of the bed and withdrew his running clothes. The sun was dropping low on the horizon. The wind would be picking up on the high plains, whipping down through the mountains. He dressed for chill temperatures.
A few minutes later, he ran down the steps and cut across the series of pastures that separated the ranch buildings from the river. This wasn’t a run in Central Park on smooth pavement. This was uneven ground, dotted with cow pies and prairie dog potholes. There were dips and rises blanketed with brown grass. The wind filled his ears and his lungs. It whipped through his hair.
Betrayals didn’t matter. Water rights didn’t matter. Past mistakes didn’t matter.
He climbed a metal gate and dropped into the north pasture. This was June and there wouldn’t be any cattle here. By now, they’d have been moved up the slopes across the river where the grass was greener.
Ben could see Falcon Creek in the distance and how it had carved its way through the land. The banks were at least fifteen feet high and lined with a few lush elms. The tributary may have been called Falcon Creek, but during the winter and spring, it ran high and fast, like a river. And during the spring and summer, rain in the mountains could turn it into a raging torrent, sometimes with little warning. This time of year, the water was low and slow, dancing around rocks exposed to air.
Ben kept his gaze from drifting south toward the remnants of the old bridge where his parents had died in one of those flash floods. He concentrated on losing himself in the run.
He had a good stride going. Steady.
His heartbeat was strong. Steady.
He felt his equilibrium return. Steady.
But then he heard something rumble. Fast. Uneven. Angry. Like gathering thunder.
The sky was the gentle pink-orange of approaching sunset. Not a cloud was visible. But the sound was growing louder.
Ben glanced over his shoulder and swore.
An Aberdeen Angus bull was barreling down on him, hide as black as night, eyes filled with a deadly rage.
The beast was sixty feet away and closing fast. The riverbank was thirty feet ahead. It seemed like a mile.
Ben picked up the pace. Strike that. He sprinted for all he was worth. Nothing was steady anymore. Not his stride. Not his heartbeat. Not his chances of seeing another sunrise.
His only hope was to scramble up the nearest tree before that bull tossed him onto the rocky creek bed.
* * *
RACHEL’S ROAN GELDING, Utah, was ungainly but trustworthy. Nothing spooked him. Not her mother’s yappy poodle. Not Poppy pulling on his mane.
Not even the sight of Ben Blackwell being chased by a charging bull.
Rachel was spooked, though. Her hands trembled and air stuck in her throat. Life on the range wasn’t like living in the suburbs. She’d witnessed ranch hands gored by bulls during branding, struck by hooves while training horses, lose fingers to hay balers. Lacerations. Broken bones. Internal injuries. People got hurt on a ranch. People died.
She might not like Ben, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be trampled.
On the road separating the two properties, Rachel urged Utah into a fast trot toward the gate that opened onto Blackwell land. She freed a length of rope from her saddle as smoothly as if she was reaching for her cell phone. She loosened the noose.
Like I’m gonna rope that bull?
She wasn’t that good with a lasso. A shiver of fear ran through Rachel, originating in concern for Ben. And then another shiver startled her, one brought on by the image of her roping the bull and watching helplessly as he bolted for the river. She’d be pulled off Utah’s back, dragged into the pasture and serve as the bull’s doormat, one that read Little Ladies Not Welcome Here.
Little ladies weren’t cowboys. Little ladies didn’t run ranches or track down escaped heifers or save grown men. Rachel breathed raggedly as Utah carried her closer.
Dad wouldn’t cower in fear.
The Double T had survived generations because of strong Thompson leadership. It was why she’d come after the garden trampling, suit ruining heifer, because she was running things now and she couldn’t rely on anyone else. Although, to be honest, this little lady had eaten dinner before embarking on her heifer search. Consequently, the cow had a big head start and was nowhere to be found.
Rachel squared her shoulders. Not that the heifer mattered right now. This rancher had other priorities.
Ben reached the trees before the bull and swung up into the branches like a monkey. He looked more like a rodeo clown in red running tights beneath black shorts and a neon yellow nylon jacket. No wonder the bull was chasing him.
The bull charged the tree, bumping the trunk without reaching Ben or knocking him down. He continued to patrol, clearly hoping to catch any straggling rodeo clowns.
Erosion and the river created a natural “fence.” The pasture was about fifteen feet above the river and a narrow, rocky bank. Tree roots prevented the pasture from eroding any farther.
Spotting Utah and Rachel, the bull took a run at the gate.
“Whoa.” Rachel pulled up ten feet away and stood in her stirrups, twirling the rope above her head. This was her chance. Rope the bull and hold him long enough for Ben to escape.
She should have felt confident. The animal was a big fella and there weren’t any horns to get hung up on. In short, he’d be hard to miss.
Instead of feeling like an experienced cowboy, she felt like a first-timer, afraid to let go for fear of what she’d have to do next.
The bull rammed the metal gate with his beefy shoulder, testing the barrier to see if it would give. It didn’t. Thank heavens Big E kept the ranch in tip-top shape. Utah pawed the ground, refusing to back down.
Heartened, Rachel spun the rope higher. Now was the time to prove she was a rancher, not the rancher’s princess daughter.
“Do not taunt that bull, Rachel.”
“The superhero in red tights is giving me advice?” Rachel threw the rope.
It landed cockeyed on the bull’s forehead and over one ear, which seemed to annoy the beast. He shook his head and pranced on the other side of the gate, snorting. The rope fell to the ground.
Rachel sat back in the saddle and coiled the rope for another try. “My mother would say you’re in a pickle, Blackwell.” Her mother would tell Rachel to get her sweet patooty out of there and get help.
Rachel might have done that a year ago, before Dad died, but now things had changed. She’d changed.
“It’s June,” Ben griped from his position in the tree. “This pasture should be empty. The cattle should be over on higher ground across the river.”
Hearing Ben’s voice, the bull turned and charged the trees. He wasn’t the brightest steak-on-a-hoof. He slammed into the wrong tree.
“Quit taunting the bull.” Rachel’s heart was having palpitations to rival the ones that killed her father. “A true cowboy would’ve asked where the livestock was before he took off in his pretty running clothes.”
“I’m not a cowboy anymore. I’m a lawyer.” Ben clung to the tree trunk and shouted at the bull, “A lawyer!”
“Calm down, Blackwell. You’ll be reduced to bits of superhero tights if that bull has its way with you.” If she rescued him, maybe he’d be so shaken up he wouldn’t show up in court tomorrow.
A girl could dream.
But this girl had a former cowboy to save first. How was she going to get him to safety?
Roping the bull was too much of a crapshoot (she wasn’t that great of a roper). Riding into the pasture to Ben’s rescue was too risky (for her and Utah). She tugged her cell phone out of a pocket, but there was no signal. They were in a dead zone. Literally.
She laughed. Somewhat hysterically, if truth be told.
“Go ahead,” Ben said. “Have your fun.”
Rachel wasn’t going to explain she was losing her composure. “I’ll keep him distracted and you shimmy down that tree and jump to the bank below. Chances are, if he notices you, he won’t want to leap down a fifteen foot cliff.” Not unless he had a very big grudge against Ben. “From there you can walk to the road.” The one she and Utah were on. “And I’ll escort you back to safety.”
Oh, this was good. Ego-bruising good. Almost as good as the day Zoe had jilted Ben at the altar. For which—sometimes, late at night—Rachel was sorry.
But not sorry. He’d undercut the Double T’s livelihood.
On Ben’s wedding day, Rachel had come out of the bridal vestibule at the back of the church, wearing a red satin gown so tight she could barely breathe. Or maybe she hadn’t been able to breathe because she’d lost her court case the day before to Ben.
Looking sophisticated and handsome, Ben had walked down the aisle toward Rachel, ignoring the murmurs and stares of his patiently waiting wedding guests. “Have you seen Zoe? I’m worried. She should have been here by now.”
At the altar behind him, his brothers hung back in their black tuxedos. Cowards. At least two of them knew where Zoe was. Rachel had sworn to keep her friend’s elopement a secret for as long as she could. Did she need to postpone things any longer?
“Rachel?” Ben had bent to peer into her eyes when she didn’t answer. “Are you okay?” Here was the Ben she’d grown up with, always watching out for Zoe and Rachel, so unlike the heartless man she’d faced in court over the past few weeks.
Rachel had tried to tug Ben away from prying eyes. “Ben, I want to renegotiate the water rights.” She sounded desperate, maybe because she was. Her father hadn’t spoken to her since the verdict came in.
“Not now, Rachel.” Ben glanced over her head, clearly searching for his bride.
“Yes, now. This can’t wait.”
“Rachel.” In the middle of the aisle, in the middle of the church, Ben blurted, “If you have to ask now, the answer is no.”
“You’re an idiot.” Rage as red as her dress pummeled Rachel’s veins and caused her to raise her voice. “Zoe eloped with Big E an hour ago!”
The assembled gave a collective gasp. Ben paled.
Only then did his brothers move, rolling toward them like a fast, incoming tide. They swept Ben out the door, leaving Rachel to face the crowd alone.
“Go get help!” Interrupting Rachel’s thoughts, Ben settled into a sitting position in the tree by the river. His red-clad legs dangling down from the branch he’d chosen. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Where’s your backbone, Blackwell?” She urged Utah closer and leaned over to rattle the gate to get the bull’s attention. Reluctantly, the bull ambled toward Rachel, huffing unhappily.
With Ben safe, Rachel’s gaze drifted toward the river. How many memories did she have at the end of this road with Ben? Too many to count.
This was where Rachel came to sort out her feelings. It was where Ben came to escape his large family. By unspoken agreement, this was where they weren’t Thompsons or Blackwells. This was where they could just be Rachel and Ben. This was where they could be friends without Zoe being jealous or his brothers teasing him. This was where—
Ben began to climb down the tree, quiet, like a rainbow-clad ninja.
The bull didn’t notice.
This is going to work.
The light dimmed as the sun disappeared on the other side of the mountain range, leaving the world in a blue-gray twilight. Rachel needed to pick up Poppy and put her to bed or she’d be a bear tomorrow, worn out from lack of sleep. She needed to prepare the quarterly tax paperwork. She needed to refill Nana Nancy’s weekly pillbox. She needed to read through her brief for court tomorrow because solid preparation was going to make her a better lawyer.
She rattled the gate some more.
A few minutes later, Rachel’s rope was secured on her saddle, the bull fidgeted on the other side of the fence, and Ben stood in front of Utah, stroking the gelding’s neck. “Hey, what’s that platform for?” Ben gestured toward a wooden structure by the river. It looked like a dock built too high above the water.
“Zoe calls it the observation platform. It’s on the website as being ideal for watching the sun rise or doing yoga.” Rachel doubted Zoe had done any of those things, either. And as far as Rachel knew, Zoe didn’t understand the significance of the end of this road to Ben and Rachel.
“Zoe built it?” Ben studied it with more attention than Rachel thought it deserved.
She wondered which memory came to his mind first. For her, it was always senior prom. He’d been out riding the morning after that dance and had found Rachel huddled on the bank wearing baggy sweats and no makeup with a nose stuffed with tears.
“Andy broke up with me.” Rachel hadn’t been able to look at Ben when she’d said it.
He hadn’t said anything in response. He’d just settled down beside her, slung his arm over her shoulder and watched the sun come up over the Rockies. Back then, she’d thought he was the best Blackwell ever.
It had taken nearly a decade to prove that wasn’t the case.
“The platform was Zoe’s idea.” Best make that clear. “She paid a ton to have it built.” Rachel turned Utah toward home, pausing to add, “And you can thank me for saving you and letting you traverse Double T land without having you arrested for trespassing.” The ingrate.
“Actually, this part of the road belongs to the Blackwells,” Ben said in an odd voice. And then he ran a hand over his hair and jogged ahead of her.
On the other side of the fence, the bull trotted next to him, like a loyal two-ton dog.
Dismissed, Rachel held Utah back, casting one last look over her shoulder toward the river, glimmering in the sunset. Now that Ben was safe, she could think about the rescue with more detachment. Replay Ben running from a raging bull as if he was running with the football, a pack of defenders at his heels.
In high school, Ben had played all sports. He was still in good shape and looked as if he could pick up where he’d left off on any playing field.
The playing field will be my courtroom to morrow.
Rachel smiled. Now was the time to get into her opponent’s head. “Do you really go out looking like that back east?”
“Yep.” He was pulling away from her in an easy stride.
Down here, the road wasn’t overgrown the way it was on the section from the Double T to the first Blackwell gate. Traffic from Blackwell ranch hands, and now ranch guests, kept the weeds to a minimum.
She kicked Utah into a trot, bringing them alongside Ben. “Must be a city thing.”
His white teeth flashed. “You mean my running clothes don’t do it for you?”
“No.” Couldn’t he have developed a tick? Grown straggly gray hair? “I’ve seen people dress in tights before.” She let that sink in before adding, “Ladies doing Zumba at the community center in Livingston, for instance.”
“You’ve spent a lot of time commenting on my legs.” He sent her a sly glance. “The only reason I can see is that they must please you.”
“Still got that ego, I see.”
“I call ’em as I see ’em, Thompson.”
Thompson. He’d called her that in the seventh grade when he’d accepted her invitation to the Sadie Hawkins dance: Okay, Thompson.
“Okay, Thompson. Let’s do this,” he’d said again, as he led her to the dance floor, his tone as serious as if they were heading into battle against overwhelming odds.
She felt the same tummy shimmy now as she had then. Of course, years ago her nerves were from not knowing what would happen next. Would he accept her invitation? Would they slow dance? Would he try to steal a kiss?
A kiss...
She watched Ben’s athletic stride, thinking about how much she missed kissing and being held in a pair of strong arms. His arms looked rather strong.
Ridiculous.
Rachel put a halt to her wandering thoughts. She wasn’t interested in men right now or Ben ever. She had a ranch to save and a baby to raise. Not to mention Ben was opposing counsel at their hearing tomorrow, her best friend’s ex and completely off-limits. Her mantras echoed in her head:
Win back the water rights.
Set the ranch to rights.
Get a signed custody agreement.
Learn how to be a better rancher.
Her excuses didn’t make a difference. The tummy shimmy persisted.
Ben and Utah kept pace with one another. Neither was winded. If their situations had been reversed and Rachel had been jogging, she would’ve quit by now, clutching a deep stitch in her side. The last time she’d gotten her heart rate up in the red zone, she’d been in labor.
“Speaking of fancy dressers...” Ben half glanced Rachel’s way. “I see you’ve got your Montana date clothes on.”
“Date clothes?” Rachel had forgotten she was wearing her mother’s overalls. They were too short and hit the top of her mother’s fancy boots. Not to mention Mom had embroidered white poodles on the bib. Très chic.
“Are you planning to escort me to my door and kiss me good-night, too?” Ben laughed.
Laughed! Rachel sputtered.
The bull huffed, as if he couldn’t believe Ben’s ego either. Utah just kept trotting. He had a smooth gait, which probably prevented Rachel from falling off in shock.
Ben stopped jogging. “Why don’t you give me a lift?”
“A lift?” Rachel squeaked. She’d barely touched the reins and Utah planted his hooves. Traitor. She would’ve liked to have kept right on going.
“Or you could hurry on home to your Mama just like you did that time we stole some beer from Big E on the Fourth of July.” Ben gave Rachel a wry half smile that pressed in on her chest like a hot humid day.
“We weren’t alone.” She huffed, at a loss as to why Ben was having such an effect on her. “I was with Andy, and you were with Zoe.” There. Reminding him of Zoe ought to burst his bubble.
Or not.
Ben continued speaking as if she hadn’t brought up his ex. “But if I get lost, or Ferdinand here breaks through the fence and tramples me, you’re going to have to explain to the judge why I didn’t show up for court in the morning. And if I don’t show, there will be a continuation, and you’ll look heartless for having left me out here in the cold, possibly injured.”
“Geez, Blackwell.” She sounded as if she was enjoying their banter. Rachel regrouped with her most serious tone. “I know this line of yours doesn’t work on women in New York City.”
“It could.” His grin was classic Ben, delivered with intent to charm. “I haven’t met many horseback-riding women in Central Park, particularly ones wearing such stylish poodle-trimmed overalls.”
Rachel’s cheeks heated. “And you wouldn’t. Not wearing those superhero tights of yours.”
He glanced down. A rumbling sound rippled through the air between them. It was so loud, even Utah turned his head toward Ben.
“Was that your stomach?” Rachel laughed. Why was she knocked off-kilter by Ben? He was a thirteen-year-old jokester in a grown man’s body.
“I’m hungry. There was nothing to eat in the ranch house.” He tried to look forlorn.
“You’re pathetic, Blackwell.” And harmless. Rachel took her booted foot from the left stirrup and held out her left hand. Ben clasped her wrist, put his sneaker in the stirrup and swung up behind her, settling on the saddle blanket.
Utah didn’t even look back to see what was happening.
Ben placed his hands on Rachel’s hips, which was so unexpected she nearly jumped out of the saddle. Instead, she heeled Utah forward and lurched against Ben’s solid chest.
She was wrong. Ben wasn’t harmless. He was handsome and charismatic and dangerous to single ladies.
Rachel shivered.
Ben’s chin brushed her shoulder. “Are you ticklish?”
“No.”
“Cold?”
“No.” His touch made her lonely, made her regret wearing her mother’s overalls and made her want to touch up her makeup. “Let it go, will you?”
He was silent. For most of a minute. “Have you been inside Big E’s house lately?”
She chuckled, only because she imagined the look on Ben’s face when he’d walked into his old home. “It’s a bit over the top, isn’t it?” Not wanting to seem disloyal, she quickly added, “I mean, it’s quite an upgrade from what it was. Zoe was much more traditional in her design choices when she decorated the guest lodge.”
“I haven’t seen the place.” And by the tone of his voice, he didn’t plan to.
Another round of silence ensued. She hoped it lasted to the last Blackwell gate.
“Are they happy together?” His question was spoken so low, she almost thought she’d imagined it. Until he added, “Rach?”
“You mean Big E and Zoe? Sure, they’re happy. They’ve been married five years.” The words didn’t quite ring true. Zoe was too proud to say much, but Rachel had sensed a change in her friend the past year or so. Remodeling the house hadn’t been enough. Building the guest ranch hadn’t been enough.
Ben sighed. His palms settled more comfortably over Rachel’s waist. “What did you have for dinner?”
Did he think she was fat? He had his hands on her post-baby love-handles. She never should have eaten dinner.
“You really want to know?”
His stomach growled an answer. “Excuse me, but yes. It’s like food porn. Give.”
She laughed. “It’s not exactly haute cuisine.” Nothing like he probably ate in New York. “Chicken casserole. Steamed veggies. Homemade biscuits.” Not exactly wise, given she wanted to lose that last ten pounds of baby weight. But there was nothing in the world like hot buttered biscuits to make your cares seem less important.
Ben pounced. “Was it your mother’s chicken casserole? The one with the fried onions and cheese?”
“Yes.”
“She used to make that for the sports banquets.” Ben’s stomach rumbled once more. “Her chicken casserole was better than Ms. Gardner’s tamales. Better than Ms. Castillo’s chicken and dumplings. Better than Ms. Maeda’s stir-fry.”
Rachel’s mother would be thrilled with the praise and... “Hold up.” This wasn’t about Rachel’s baby weight. “Are you trying to mooch food off me?”
“Well, if you’re offering...” It seemed as if he leaned in closer. His breath was warm over her ear. “I will gladly accept your hospitality.”
“Ben Blackwell.” He was trying to get under her skin before tomorrow, just as she’d been trying to do with him. And he was doing a better job of it than she was! “You are not coming to my house. My family loathes you for stealing our water. My grandmother is convinced you’re the reason my dad had a heart attack.”
