The Rancher’s Inherited Family (McCall Ranch Brothers Book 1)

by Leslie North

  McCall Ranch Brothers

  The Rancher’s Inherited Family

  The Cowboy’s Rescue

  The Cowboy’s Pregnant Sweetheart

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, JANUARY 2020

  Copyright © 2020 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  Trevor McCall doesn’t want to be a rancher, or settle down and become a family man. Now, however, he’s forced to not only take over his late parents’ ranch, but also unexpectedly raise his cousin’s four-year-old daughter, Jade.

  Sure, he can run the place for the year-long stipulation specified in his parents’ will, but take care of a kid? No way. Nothing in his life has prepared him to be the father of a four-year-old girl. Complicating matters, Lacey Cameron, his sweet and pretty housekeeper, is leaving to open up her own B&B. Lacey has always lived at the McCall ranch—she can’t leave now when he needs her most. Desperate, Trevor makes a deal with her: Stay and help him with little Jade and in return he’ll help her fix up the B&B. Lacey agrees, and as the two of them work together, Trevor quickly realizes the girl he’s known all his life has grown into a beautiful woman, one who, to his shock, manages to find a crack in his hardened heart.

  Lacey’s spent her entire life at the McCall ranch. Generations of Camerons have worked there, but she’s finally breaking free. For years she’s been saving for a B&B, and nothing’s going to stop her from finally realizing her dream and leaving the McCalls. Not that she doesn’t love them all. It’s that she loves one McCall a bit too much, even though she’d die before letting Trevor know how she feels. With this particular cowboy, love was never in the picture. But after the contractor for her B&B scams her, she can’t refuse Trevor’s offer to help. She can ignore the painful wrenching in her heart every time she hears his voice if it will get her business up and running. Then the completely unexpected happens: She realizes Trevor is just as attracted to her as she is to him.

  But Trevor plans to leave as soon as his obligation to honor his parents’ last wishes is over. Even so, Lacey gives in to their attraction, knowing she’s just setting herself up for heartache. After all, better to have a broken heart than a lonely one…right?

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  (McCall Ranch Brothers Book One)

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  End of The Rancher’s Inherited Family

  Thank You

  About Leslie

  Sneak Peek: The Cowboy’s Rescue

  Also by Leslie

  1

  Trevor McCall sped down the steep, winding road leading to his family’s ranch, only giving it a cursory amount of attention. The snow drifts shoved to the road’s edges by plows passed by as little more than a blur, and he hardly noticed the signs warning him to watch for wayward animals or falling rocks. He’d been seeing them for most of his life, and at almost thirty, he understood that life held more dangers than those he’d find on this road. Where the road was taking him, for starters.

  “Giving the place too much credit, man,” he growled to himself, shaking his head with an impatient sigh. “Stop acting like you’re still a stupid kid.”

  It was solid advice, exactly the kind he’d give either of his younger brothers if he saw them working themselves up over nothing. Unfortunately, he’d always been better at giving advice than taking it.

  Not that he was particularly good at giving it, either. He let his eyes drop from the road ahead to the phone sitting on the passenger side of his truck, looking for some sign that he wasn’t the first to arrive.

  “Whoa!” he cried, eyes darting back up to the road at the blare of a horn. Barely in time, he swerved out of the way of an old Jeep turning out of the drive onto the county road. Heart pounding, he squinted to see the driver of said Jeep. All he needed was for the guy to put it into park and get out to try and start something. In his current mood, he was more than ready for a fight. He would have welcomed such a diversion after the mess he’d been dealing with these past couple days.

  Except the Jeep’s driver wasn’t a man. The woman behind the wheel was rolling down her window, already apologizing before he had his own window down enough to talk through.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a nervous smile, her eyes wide. “I thought you were going to veer into me. I shouldn’t have honked at you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly, looking more closely at her face. He thought he knew her from somewhere, although he couldn’t put his finger on where. The way her bright blonde hair seemed to capture the light of the day stirred the beginning of memory, something he’d fought resolutely to avoid.

  He cleared his throat and looked up the road for any sign of his brothers.

  The woman he couldn’t quite place laughed shakily, and he found his eyes drawn back to her face. A beautiful face, no denying that. Had he met her under different circumstances, he might have tried to keep the conversation going. As it was, he needed to get on his way.

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she said again, throwing her Jeep back into drive. “Have a good day, Mr. McCall. Or as good as you can.”

  She turned bright red and stomped on the gas, her Jeep lurching forward before heading down the road in the direction of the town of Winding Creek. For a minute, Trevor just sat and watched her progress, wondering how she had known who he was. Then he took his truck out of park as well, forcing himself back to the task at hand.

  He sighed as he reached the high point along the long driveway that overlooked the main buildings of the ranch, parked, and unfolded himself from the cab of his old, beat-up Ford truck. It was a good truck, almost as old as he was, but sturdy, and Trevor was grateful for it. He was fond of telling people when he was a little too far into his cups that it was one of the only useful things he’d gotten from growing up on the McCall ranch.

  “And I could sure use a beer now,” he muttered to himself, shielding his eyes with one calloused hand and looking out over the expanse of his family’s land. If he could call it that, which, he reminded himself, he had n
o real right to do.

  It was good land, beautiful, really, despite the old wounds dredged up simply by seeing it again. As little as he wanted to be here, a part of him responded to the place he had always called home. His father had always said that land had a way of getting under a man's skin, of seeping into his blood and taking root. Trevor and the late James McCall had disagreed plenty, but on this matter, they had been of one mind. It didn't matter how widely he traveled or how far away from home he ended up: there was nothing in the world like standing under the expanse of the open Winding Creek, Montana sky.

  “Brother!” a familiar voice called from behind him. Trevor heard a car door slam and turned to see his middle brother, Carson, standing next to his own truck. Unlike Trevor, Carson had not opted to keep the old clunker their parents had gifted him. At the moment, he was driving a brand new, shiny monstrosity, presumably bought with his winnings from rodeo riding.

  "Well, look at what the cat dragged in," Trevor chuckled, closing the distance between them and pulling Carson in for a hug. "I was wondering when you guys were going to get here. I was starting to think I was the only one who was going to make it."

  "What—is Randy not here yet?" Carson asked in surprise, turning in a slow circle as if by doing so, he might make their baby brother magically appear.

  “Nope, haven’t seen him,” Trevor said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, the way he always did when he was feeling on edge. Lord knew he felt that way now. Truth be told, he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, if such a thing were possible.

  He’d known it was going to be like this, at least had expected some approximation of his current level of discomfort. Trevor wasn’t under any illusions of home being the kind of place a person could always return to. Whoever had said that had either had a strong case of nostalgia or had grown up without a family of his own. As far as Trevor was concerned, the notion of home was just another fantasy.

  "Well, what do you want to do, then?" Carson asked, prompting Trevor to abandon his own thoughts begrudgingly. "Do we wait here in the clearing for Baby Brother to show, or should we go to the house?” He cocked an eye at Trevor. “The lawyer’s going to be waiting. He's...he said we've got business to attend to."

  Carson's voice broke near the end of the statement, and for a gut-wrenching moment, Trevor didn't think his younger brother was going to be able to finish the sentiment. It didn't matter how much Trevor had been dreading returning to the McCall ranch. Seeing Carson this way made him want to put his fist through something. Though the two of them had fought like cats and dogs growing up, they loved each other all the same. No matter the differences between them—and there were more than Carson could begin to guess at—Trevor would have done just about anything for the guy. Actually, that went for both of his brothers.

  “Come on, little man,” he said gruffly, clapping his hand on Carson’s back. “Let’s head to the house. Don’t want to keep Mr. Barnes waiting.”

  “Cut it out, Trev,” Carson groaned, rolling his eyes. That response set Trevor to laughing, a great guffawing sound that felt good for the soul. Carson was two years younger than Trevor’s twenty-eight and three inches shorter than Trevor’s height of six foot three, something Trevor had always enjoyed ribbing him about. Some things never changed, whether you were twelve or going on thirty.

  Trevor was surprised by the twinge of emotion it ignited in him, but he was pleased, too, glad to find something he could enjoy aside from the view at the old family homestead.

  “Come on,” he said again, still chuckling at his brother’s indignation. “Let’s go to the house. What do you wanna bet we find Randy already there?”

  “Yeah, okay. We’ll go to the house.” Carson's tone didn't exactly match his spoken agreement.

  For that, Trevor couldn't exactly blame him. He would have preferred to be just about anywhere but the house they had grown up in. He'd sworn to himself that he'd never set foot there again, and the fact that their parents were both gone now didn't make him feel any better about going back on his word.

  He turned his face up to the sky, where large, fat clouds were gathering, ready to dump their bounty onto the two McCall brothers. Not that Trevor would have minded. He'd always liked standing out in a storm, and it would beat listening to the reading of his parents' will, any day of the week. He didn't need to ask to know that Carson felt the same way. Only a sense of duty sent them back to their trucks, climbing in and slamming the doors, starting engines that somehow managed to sound as resigned as Trevor felt. In Trevor's case, duty was joined by a strong desire to get things over with so he could go back to his real life.

  "Not long now," he promised himself and the empty cab of his truck as he eased it back onto the road that led to his parents' house. "Not too long now, and all this will be behind you for good."

  He nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of doubt settling like a stone in the pit of his stomach. That dread didn’t mean anything, or at least, it didn’t have to. All he had to do was get through the reading of the will, have some dinner and a few beers with his brothers, and as soon as tomorrow morning, he could be on the road. In a couple weeks, it would be like none of this had ever happened. Just another unhappy memory, another bad dream to file away in the part of himself he made sure never to visit.

  2

  Trevor and Carson pulled up in front of the house at the same time, Carson maneuvering his truck so close to Trevor’s, the older brother grimaced. For a moment, Trevor let himself rest in the old, battered driver’s seat, feeling the faulty heater blowing in his face. Despite the March air’s chill, he was sweating bullets.

  Even after Carson dropped out of the cab of his own monster vehicle, Trevor remained in place. “The gang’s all here,” he muttered to himself. “Back together again at last.”

  Randy's car was already parked alongside the house, and for some reason, that made everything feel more real to Trevor.

  Too real, making the instinct to turn and run with his tail between his legs so strong, he could hardly swallow it back down. Only Carson's earnest, questioning face in his window got him to open his door at all.

  “What’s the deal, bro? You planning on hearing the reading of the will from here? Because I’ve gotta tell ya, that doesn’t seem like the best plan to me.”

  “Very funny,” Trevor muttered, shoving one hand deep into the pocket of his sheepskin coat and shooting his brother the bird with the other. “You’re just a riot today, aren’t ya?”

  “You know, I try. Got to lighten the mood somehow, right? I mean, with everything that’s going on? It’s either laugh or cry.”

  “So help me, if you start crying—”

  “You’ll what?” Randy interrupted from the open doorway. “You two planning on getting into it out here without me?”

  "Randy, look what the cat drug in," Carson chuckled, turning away from Trevor and striding quickly toward the house. As Trevor watched, he skipped up the steps to the porch and pulled Randy in for a hug. The two brothers embraced the way men in their twenties were wont to do, clapping each other on the back and then pulling apart quickly, clearing their throats and kicking up snow with the toes of their boots. Trevor watched and wondered how long it would take them to notice if he decided to go ahead and get gone.

  “Come on, big brother,” Randy called as if reading Trevor’s mind. “It’s time. We’ve got to put things to rest, once and for all. This whole mess has been bad enough already. No sense drawing it out any longer than we have to.”

  “Mr. Barnes been on your back about us not being here yet, has he?” Carson laughed.

  “Maybe a little bit,” Randy admitted, two bright spots of color finding their way to his cheeks. “And, if we’re being honest, I’ve got some other things I need to attend to after this. I know it sounds awful, but—”

  “No,” Trevor interrupted, his voice a good deal harder than he’d intended it to be. “It doesn’t. Our lives didn’t stop when Mom and Dad died. Maybe they
should have, and maybe not, but that’s not how death works.”

  A new voice broke in. “Too right. Now, would the three of you mind very much joining me in your father’s office? It would be best if we could iron out the details sooner rather than later. There are some elements of this particular will that are a little...unorthodox.” Mr. Barnes, who had appeared in the doorway without making a sound, turned promptly on his heel and walked back into the house.

  Trevor raised an eyebrow at Carson, who mouthed the word “unorthodox” with questions written across his face. Trevor and Randy shrugged in perfect unison and, smiling tiredly to each other, followed Mr. Barnes inside, the new arrivals shrugging off their coats and hanging them on their accustomed hooks by the door as they entered.

  The second he was in the house, Trevor wanted to walk right back out again. He'd expected it to be hard to come back to the ranch, but he'd under-anticipated how bad just stepping inside the house was going to be, like walking into a time capsule—or a building full of ghosts. Not just the ghosts of his parents, either. Ghosts of himself and his brothers, younger versions of themselves roaming through those now quiet halls and already dusty rooms.

  Large, studio-produced family portraits hung on the walls, and more photographs lined the fireplace mantel and the free space on the shelves of the bookcases. Never mind that Trevor had stopped smiling in them around the time he turned eight, although it had taken several more years for him to figure out why he felt so different from the rest of his family, his set frown and crossed arms upsetting the otherwise picture-perfect image of what a family was supposed to look like. His parents had gone on displaying the photographs all the same, up until Trevor had moved away and stopped coming home.