Colorado Woman (The Hansen Women)

by Coburn, C. C.

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to Coldwater, Colorado and my new series about five sisters who grew up in this sleepy backwater.

  The Hansen girls are a feisty bunch of women and they need men who are up to handling them!

  School teacher Maggie Hansen has so much baggage, it’s practically breaking her back. Add to that: the town is dying, her school is threatened with closure, and, country music sensation, Jake MacKade has moved into the ranch next door to hers.

  Mac, as his friends call him, is about as “country” as Times Square and he has a hard time convincing Maggie his love for her is more genuine than Mom and apple pie!

  I hope you enjoy reading how Mac wins Maggie’s heart as much as I enjoyed writing about it.

  Meantime, I’m working on more Indie stories for you. Watch out for: “In Love and War” —a sweeping World War Two saga featuring an incredibly brave French heroine and the two men she loves —an English nobleman and an American officer.

  Also, “Austen in Love”, coming later this year, answers exactly how Jane Austen came to write such enduring romances when she’d never married, never truly been in love.

  And of course, there are Maggie Hansen’s four other sisters pestering me to tell their stories. Next in the series will be, “LA Lady”, lawyer Paige Hansen’s story.

  I love hearing from my readers. You can email me via my website: www.cccoburn.com

  best wishes!

  CC

  Colorado Woman – The country gal and the city cowboy…

  Problems, problems! Maggie Hansen has a basketful right now—her home town of Coldwater, Colorado, is dying and the school where she teaches will close, unless there’s a boost in enrolments over summer. Then, there’s her high school sweetheart: wealthy rancher Trey Porter is back in town and wants to take up where they left off. And to top it all, she has a new neighbour: Mac MacKade, a city–boy–turned–overnight–country–music–sensation has moved into the ranch next door—and he’s drop–dead gorgeous!

  Maggie’s amazed when Mac makes it clear he wants to get to know her better, and she thinks of every reason why he shouldn’t: for starters, he’s not country, can’t shoot a clay pigeon, and can’t ride a horse. And, why’s he so interested in an older woman like her, who’s devoted her life to bringing up her younger sisters and has no time for makeup, flirting and fancy clothes? Mac claims he’s here to stay, but Maggie is convinced that as soon as the aspens start to turn, he’ll be hightailing it back to Nashville.

  But soon Maggie gets to see another side of her urban cowboy—the man who can work miracles, including bringing Coldwater back to life and making her feel like a real woman again. The thing is, her heart’s been broken too many times already and she just can’t allow Mac to shatter it once more…

  Copyright © 2013 C.C. Coburn. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re–sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover design by Tara at Fantasia Frog Designs

  Formatting by Anessa Books

  Colorado Woman

  C.C. Coburn

  Chapter One

  You are never gonna guess who I ran into in town.”

  Maggie Hansen looked up from her mending as her youngest sister, Pixie, flounced into the living room of their cabin on Riverbend Ranch outside Coldwater, Colorado, flopped into a chair and put her booted feet up on the coffee–table. Maggie ignored the transgression—Pixie had always been a law unto herself.

  “Going to guess,” she said, automatically correcting Pixie’s grammar.

  “Whatever!” Pixie rolled her eyes. C’mon, guess!”

  Maggie went back to repairing the shoulder seam of one of her blouses. Although she didn’t need to economize now her other three sisters had all left home and had careers of their own, there was still Pixie’s college education to pay for, so every little bit helped. If she could repair a perfectly good blouse, she would.

  “Trey Porter!”

  The shock had Maggie stabbing her finger instead of the fabric. She lifted her finger to her lips and sucked it.

  “Thought you’d be surprised,” Pixie crowed. “And…”

  “And what?” Maggie put her sewing aside. No point in pricking any more fingers. Pixie was obviously eager to impart some gossip and, from long experience, Maggie knew it could well surprise, if not, shock her.

  “He’s D.I.V.O.R.C.E.D.!”

  Yep, just as well she’d put that sewing aside, because that was surely shocking news. James Edward Porter the third, otherwise known as Trey, had been Maggie’s high school sweetheart. He’d gone off to college in California, while Maggie had studied to become a school teacher in nearby Colorado Springs. Four years later, Trey had returned briefly to town with his very elegantly dressed and stunningly beautiful fiancé on his arm. It had cut Maggie to the marrow. But her life had been so busy in the intervening years she and Trey had grown apart, so she wasn’t be surprised he’d moved on.

  The year she’d headed to college, Maggie’s family home had burnt to the ground with her parents in it. Fortunately, her younger sisters had made it to safety. But in the smoke and confusion, each parent had thought Pixie was still left inside and had gone to find her. Her parents’ bodies had been found when the fire had been contained, embracing each other in the hall outside Pixie’s bedroom. Pixie was four at the time.

  Maggie had been devastated: What would she do with four little sisters to raise and no home?

  Her grandpa had been her rock, moving the girls into his cabin by the river outside of Coldwater. Riverbend Ranch became their home from that day on.

  At the funeral, Paige, the second oldest and three years younger than Maggie, had been stoic; Lisa, a high school freshman, was tearful and full of drama; ten–year–old Kelly, her eyes full of unshed tears, had stared off into space. And Pixie, the baby, had sat perched on Maggie’s hip playing with her hair, unaware of the tragedy that had taken place.

  So Maggie and Gramps had become the girls’ parents. A small life insurance policy, carefully invested, had meant Gramps hadn’t had to go back to work to support them. The house insurance had been too meager to rebuild and, instead, the lot it stood on had been sold off and, together with the insurance money, was invested towards the girls’ future college educations. Gramps had insisted Maggie return to college and finish her degree. A school–teacher’s income was paltry, but it would put food on the table and becoming a teacher had been Maggie’s lifelong dream. There was no way Gramps was going to let her drop out to become a surrogate mother. “I raised your momma just fine, honey,” he’d said. “A few more little girls aint gonna bother me none.”

  Maggie smiled as she remembered. Maybe she shouldn’t be so much on Pixie’s case about her grammar; she’d learned it from the best and if it was good enough for Gramps, it was good enough for her.

  “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

  Pixie’s question brought her abruptly back to the present.

  “Do about what?”

  “Trey of course!” Exasperated, Pixie unwound her long, tanned legs and stood up. She went to the fridge and pulled out a soda. “Want one?” she asked as she wiped the cold drink across her forehead. Since it was June, she was h
ome from college and had found a job serving at the local diner.

  Maggie smiled as she looked at her youngest sister standing by the fridge, all arms and legs as she ripped open the can, threw her head back and guzzled the contents in a most un–lady–like fashion. Pixie was twenty going on fifteen, full of teenager–like enthusiasm and energy. Nearly twenty–one! Maggie reminded herself, since Pix shared her birthday with Uncle Sam.

  “No thanks,” Maggie said and picked up her sewing.

  “So you’re not gonna go after him?” Pixie returned to the sofa and took another long draught from the can.

  Maggie put the sewing aside. It could wait. It was just one of her teaching shirts and the summer holidays had only just begun. She made a mental note not to do any sewing while Pixie was around: it was potentially dangerous to her health.

  “No, of course I won’t be going after him. He had his chance all those years ago and threw it away.”

  Pixie made a sucking sound of disapproval. “You sure know how to hold a grudge.”

  Maggie sure did hold a grudge, but she was also still half in love with Trey in spite of his betrayal in marrying another woman. She’d told herself at the time that she came with too much baggage for a man to be in for the long haul—especially a man headed for law school in California. A man who would want children. And since that riding accident, her ever being a mother had pretty much been ruled out.

  No, she belonged right here in Coldwater, with Gramps and the girls. They were her family. Trey was only the love of her life.

  “I wonder why he came back to town?” Pixie mused aloud. “Maybe he wants to take up where you guys left off?”

  “You’re such a romantic,” Maggie said with a smile, picked up a cushion and threw it at Pixie.

  “Hey! I haven’t been in love with the same guy for half my life!”

  “And neither have I, missy, so mind your beeswax and go saddle up the horses. They need some exercise, and so do we.”

  As they rode along the fence separating their land from the adjoining ranch, Maggie spotted removal vans parked outside the big house. She curled her lip, wondering what tasteless fool had bought the place.

  “That must be our new neighbor,” Pixie said, reining in Solace and sliding off his back. “I heard in town the place has been rented for the summer.”

  Great! The house had stood empty for a couple of years. Some weekend warrior had bought up the land and built the monstrosity. He’d soon tired of commuting from Denver on weekends and only used it a couple of weeks a year. Eventually he hadn’t even done that.

  Since the financial crisis, it had stood empty, and that had suited Maggie just fine. She’d loved the isolation of not having too close a neighbor. Sure, it was lonely without Gramps since he’d moved to a retirement village in Colorado Springs, with the excuse he was closer to medical care should he need it. Maggie had hated to see him go, but it meant Pixie could visit him anytime while she was at college there and the pair were close as two peas in a pod. Gramps was coming up in a couple of days to visit for a while and Maggie couldn’t wait. They’d spend long afternoons down by the river chin–wagging and maybe, if they were lucky, catching a good–sized trout for the grill. She loved that about summer, the long evenings gazing out at the distant mountains, the sun setting behind them.

  Coldwater was situated in a wide valley. It was too far from the mountains to be of any interest to skiers and too far from the bright lights of the city to be of any interest to urbanites. It was considered quirky by some, funky by others, the last stop on the road to nowhere by still more—her sister, Paige, included.

  Paige was a lawyer in LA and had to be practically blackmailed into coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Eventually, the sisters had agreed on a compromise and spent alternate Christmases at each other’s homes. Pixie loved the Holidays in LA because Paige had a pool and she could go swimming on Christmas Day. But Maggie hated the city and felt as if she was suffocating whenever she stepped off the plane.

  Lisa’s home in Seattle was infinitely preferable and if going to the city was the price she had to pay to get the family together over the holidays, then she’d walk all the way to Antarctica if it was necessary. Kelly, a nurse, was working with an aid organization in Africa and hadn’t been home for several years.

  Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be making it home this year either.

  “Let’s go over and introduce ourselves?” Pixie said, starting to climb the white–painted, post and rail fence the owner had erected at great expense around the ranch’s perimeter several years earlier.

  Maggie caught her arm. “Let’s not. They might appreciate time to settle in. We can go over some other time.” Like next century.

  Pixie pulled a face but did as she was bid and remounted her horse. They rode off, Maggie being careful to steer away from the neighboring property so Pixie wouldn’t get any more ideas about popping over to introduce herself.

  She loved her little sister’s extroverted and adventurous nature, envied it in many ways. But meeting the neighbors, today or anytime soon, wasn’t on her agenda. What she really wanted to do was head into town and see if Trey really had returned, and check out how the years had treated him.

  “Let’s head back?” she said.

  “Already? We just got here,” Pixie protested.

  “I don’t have anything defrosted for dinner, so how about I treat you to a burger at Crazy Joe’s?”

  “And maybe get a window seat so you can see if Trey drops into town?”

  Pixie was too smart by half. It was no use Maggie denying that this was exactly what she had in mind. “Yup. But first I’ve got to wash my hair and put on my face.”

  As she’d hoped, Pixie was struck dumb by her confession.

  “Race you back to the house!” Maggie said and dug Apache in the ribs with the heel of her boot.

  An hour later Maggie was regretting calling Pixie’s bluff.

  She’d spent too much time blow–drying her hair, to the point it was way too puffy. She’d also put on too much makeup because she was so unused to applying any these days. And she was too bloated from consuming a huge bacon and guacamole cheeseburger with a side of crispy onion rings and a chocolate thick–shake while waiting for Trey to maybe appear.

  Just about everyone in town had dropped by their booth to tell her the news that Trey was back, then noticed Maggie’s appearance: “You done something different with your hair?” Or worse still, “You had some ‘work’ done, Maggie? You don’t look like you.”

  Feeling sick from eating too much, and now dreading running into Trey, she threw some bills on the table and gathered her things. “Let’s go,” she said to Pixie and stood up.

  “But I haven’t finished!” Pixie protested, indicating her unfinished third glass of root beer float. “And we haven’t seen Trey yet.”

  “And I hope we never do!” Maggie said, turning away from any further protests from Pixie and heading for the door—only she slammed straight into a broad chest.

  “Whoa there!” a deep voice said, as its owner gripped her arms to stop her falling backwards.

  She’d recognize that voice anywhere. It had been more than a dozen years and still she remembered it.

  Feeling like she really was going to be sick, Maggie forced her eyes to run up his chest to his throat, over his chin to his lips. She swallowed and met his eyes.

  “Trey,” she said. “Fancy bumping into you.”

  He smiled down at her and said, “I heard you were here, Mags. Thought I’d drop by.”

  The Coldwater bush–telegraph was alive and buzzing, Maggie thought wearily.

  “Hey, kid,” Trey said over her shoulder.

  “Hi, Trey.”

  Maggie looked back to find Pixie sitting right where she’d left her, sucking on her root beer float. Disobedient brat! she wanted to say.

  “Mind if I join you?” Trey asked, practically forcing Maggie back into the booth. She landed on her butt and shuffled
over so Trey could sit down. Only she shouldn’t have shuffled quite so enthusiastically, because her stomach was protesting at being stuffed with food it wasn’t used to.

  Trey took a long look at her and said, “You look good, Maggie. Have you done something with your hair?”

  Unable to answer, dreading that if she opened her mouth, she’d throw up, Maggie fished in her purse, found an elastic band, scraped her hair back with her hands and fastened it into a ponytail.

  Unfortunately, this seemed to bring back memories for Trey, who grinned and said, “You don’t look a day older than when we were dating.”

  Typical Trey, she thought. What a bunch of horse–poop!

  He ordered beer from a passing waitress, then said, “So tell me, how’s life been treating you, Maggie?”

  Just great, Trey, she wanted to say. Never mind that you broke my heart so badly, I’ve never married. No, thanks to you, I’ve had to count every penny I ever earned while looking after my little sisters.

  But she didn’t. Instead she just smiled stupidly at him and thought, If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to throw up.

  “Sis? You don’t look so good,” she heard Pixie say as if from a distance.

  Maggie looked at her and blinked. Strange how everything around her was going gray. And swaying.

  The beer Trey had ordered was slapped down onto the table, along with another in front of Maggie that she didn’t remember ordering. A beer was the last thing she wanted right now. She gripped the table to steady herself as the room started to spin.

  She watched through a haze as Trey picked up his beer and said, “Bottoms up!” and started to drain his glass.

  She stared transfixed, as she watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple moving up and down rhythmically.

  And then she threw up.

  Chapter Two

  A shotgun blast woke Maggie the next morning. She sat up and looked out the window as another blast shook the house—and her nerves—to breaking point.