Luke Branson was the U-2’s closest neighbor, but she’d hardly seen him for weeks, spring being one of the busiest seasons on their respective ranches. It would be better once they were able to get married. Not that they were formally engaged; it was more a mutual understanding for the future.
“When are you two going to set a date?” Grams asked. “I’d like to have great-grandchildren while I’m young enough to chase after them.”
“One of these days. Luke understands why I want to wait.”
Reid stumbled into the kitchen as Mariah was sipping tea and eating oatmeal. He served himself a bowl and stared at it bleakly. He showed an equal lack of interest in the eggs and whole-grain toast that Grams put on the table. Mariah knew from the light under his door last night that he’d been up late studying. He needed to get more sleep, but it was hypocritical to urge him to get good grades and then interfere with his studies.
“I saw you take food to Caitlin O’Donnell,” she said to her grandfather.
“The purple streaks in her hair are a nice touch, but she’s death on a stick gussied up in so much black. I’ll have to teach her to have fun.” Granddad rubbed his palms together and Mariah figured he was the one who would enjoy himself the most. Benjamin Weston was a kid at heart.
“You won’t have a chance—you aren’t the O’Donnells’ wrangler,” she said edgily. But it wasn’t her grandfather who aggravated her; it was the thought of Jacob O’Donnell believing he could dump his daughter’s problems on someone else. No one at the U-2 had time to babysit an unruly, privileged teen. “I don’t want any of us to get involved. Her father didn’t go into details, but apparently she has issues to resolve. We need to let him deal with them.”
“Teaching her to have fun won’t do any harm.”
“For heaven’s sake, Reid and Mariah have enough to handle without your interfering, Benjamin,” Grams scolded, sitting down with the rest of them.
“Guess you’ll have to keep me busy.”
Mariah knew they’d clasped hands underneath the table. Above all, Granddad was a romantic. However hectic things might be, late every afternoon he and her grandmother strolled up the shallow valley, arm in arm, as if they were still a courting couple. That was how Mariah wanted things to be with Luke, a closeness that just kept growing.
Elizabeth poured milk into her tea. “What about Caitlin’s mom? She should be here if her child is in trouble.”
“She wasn’t mentioned, but I feel sorry for anyone married to that guy,” Mariah said. “I bet they’re divorced.”
“Mmm, not necessarily. He’s quite attractive.”
“And rich. Shame on you, Grams,” Mariah teased. “What will Granddad think?”
“That I’m a normal, red-blooded woman who can appreciate a hunk from a purely aesthetic point of view.”
Granddad chuckled. “And fortunately I’m so handsome I don’t have to worry.”
Mariah ate her last bite of oatmeal and dropped the spoon in the bowl. It was time to start the day, one she hoped would turn out better than the previous...especially when it came to Jacob O’Donnell. She’d made a resolution to treat him the same as any other guest, no matter how much he annoyed her. The trick would be keeping that resolution.
Reid headed to the barn while Mariah and her grandfather went down to the mess tent where the wranglers were gathered for coffee. She loved seeing Granddad transform from cheerful jokester to tough-but-fair ranch boss. He didn’t know a ledger sheet from a gum wrapper, but he understood the practical end of ranching like nobody else. Ben Weston was close to a legend in Montana. She was trying to learn as much as possible from him before he retired.
“Hey, Mariah,” whispered a voice as she entered the tent. It was Caitlin O’Donnell.
“Go on,” she told her grandfather, who smiled at the teen.
Mariah looked back at Caitlin. “You’re up early. Is something wrong?” The first slivers of sunlight were barely visible on the eastern horizon.
“Um, yeah.” The agitated girl shifted from one foot to the other. “There’s an animal in my dad’s side of the tent. A really big animal. I think it’s a wolf and he’s snoring. He must have come in for the steak Mr. Weston gave me. I put the plate by the bed ’cause Dad was already asleep. Omigod, he’s dead and it’s my fault because I didn’t wake him up.”
Mariah hesitated.
She fully intended to make Jacob O’Donnell deal with his own daughter, only some things were ranch business, not personal. “I bet it’s just Pip.”
“Pip?” Caitlin trailed after her.
“Our dog—part Alaskan malamute and part mystery mutt. He’s a mooch and a thief, with a snore that raises the rafters, but harmless aside from that.”
They crept up to the tent.
“Pip, get out here,” Mariah whispered.
Pip’s distinctive snore continued unabated.
She gave Caitlin a sideways glance. “Go get some sausages from the cook in the black cowboy hat. Tell him they’re for Pip.”
The teen took off for the cooking area at a run. Mariah thought her reaction showed how much she loved her dad, though she’d probably deny it. In less than three minutes, Caitlin was back with a bowl of grilled sausages.
“Want a sausage, Pip?” Mariah asked softly.
Pip made a slurping sound. Within two seconds, he appeared through the tent flap, a happy, overgrown goof of a dog.
Caitlin released a tiny shriek and then clapped her palms to her mouth.
“Here you are, you old bandit,” Mariah said, setting the bowl in front of the animal. Pip inhaled every scrap. She scratched behind his ears and his tail wagged, merrily unrepentant at being caught where he wasn’t allowed. They’d tried to get him to understand that some people were nervous around dogs, but he couldn’t be convinced.
Everybody was Pip’s friend.
“He woke up because you asked if he wanted sausage?” Caitlin breathed, extending a cautious hand. Pip darted over, delighted to get attention from anyone willing to offer it—men, women, young, old, city dweller or country lover. He was a very democratic canine. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Mariah straightened. “If I tried getting him out any other way, it would wake everyone up.”
“Is he the reason we shouldn’t keep food in the tents?”
“One of them. We also get mice and ants and squirrels, among other beasties. Go on,” she said, motioning toward the mess tent. “You can meet whoever’s awake and let your dad get more sleep.”
* * *
JACOB STARED at the dark roof of the tent as Kittie’s and Mariah’s voices faded. It was almost like hearing his daughter the way she used to be—normal and well-adjusted.
He stretched. After midnight he’d woken up and checked on Kittie, eaten the corn bread he’d found on a plate of food by the bed and crawled into his sleeping bag. Later the dog woke him up again, but he’d been too exhausted to care. The animal was wearing a collar—what harm could it do?
Reaching over, he switched on the battery lamp. The remains of a steak, beans and coleslaw were scattered across his silk shirt. It seemed symbolic of his relationship with Kittie—an utter disaster.
“Argh.” He rubbed his face and got up. Perhaps a shower would clear his mind.
The heated restrooms were clean, serviceable and very basic. There were two buildings, one for men and the second for women. It was so early the place was empty. He felt more human after his shower, though until Kittie showed improvement, he wouldn’t feel completely right. It was strange how he could love his child to death and still be driven insane by her.
An idle, guilty thought occurred to him.... Did they have military school for girls? Was that even an option?
Everyone was up and moving by the time he was dressed and back in the tent. The air was ch
illy and there were good-natured complaints about the cold, teasing accusations that somebody had forgotten to pay the power bill and mad dashes for the restrooms to avoid a wait in line.
“Kittie?” he called, pushing aside the tent flap.
She wasn’t there.
Jacob spread his towel on the mattress to dry and headed to the mess tent. Inside there were cowboys drinking coffee, but no sign of Kittie.
“Anything I can do for you, Mr. O’Donnell?” asked Burt Parsons.
“Yes, I’m looking for my daughter.”
“She’s around. I’ll be your wrangler during your stay at the ranch. And that young fellow—” he gestured at a man who was nearly as deeply wrinkled and weathered as Burt himself “—will be coming along today, as well. His name is Ray Cassidy. Nice boy, Ray. You’ll like him.” Burt sounded quite serious calling Ray a boy. Maybe when a person reached a certain age, everybody else was young by comparison.
“In that case, I want to be sure that my daughter’s safety is your top priority,” Jacob said.
“Not to worry. We haven’t lost anyone yet.” Burt ambled off to the serving table, cup in hand.
Resisting the urge to pound the importance of Kittie’s safety into everyone, Jacob got his coffee and turned in time to see Mariah Weston arrive. He blew on the black brew as she spoke with the cowboys and cooks. Some of the men focused overly long on her curves, but they were discreet. Their interest was understandable. Her worn jeans were molded faithfully to her bottom and she wore a soft flannel shirt that did nothing to conceal the swell of her breasts.
A stab of awareness hit Jacob. No. Mariah was impossible, the complete opposite of the kind of woman who had always appealed to him.
In another few minutes Mariah flipped him a cool look. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but striking with those high cheekbones and vibrant hair. Was she a natural redhead? Her blue eyes and creamy, lightly tanned skin suggested she wasn’t, but he was no expert. He preferred blondes anyway.
Anna had been blonde.
Blonde. Beautiful. Fragile.
Sighing, Jacob swirled the contents of his enameled metal cup. It wasn’t fair. Anna had wanted a baby so much, but she’d died less than three years after having Kittie, and a lot of that time she had been too weak to enjoy her daughter and be a mother.
He pressed his thumbs to his throbbing temples. He’d tried to do right by Kittie and by Anna’s memory, and yet he’d failed. Kittie was in trouble and he didn’t know what to do for her. If he could only put his finger on what was wrong.
“Good morning, Mr. O’Donnell,” Mariah said, yanking him from his thoughts.
“Hello, Miss Weston.”
Jacob noticed her gaze flick between his shirt and jeans—probably evaluating how suitable they were for the ranch—and almost asked if he passed muster. His irritation from the previous night returned, but he squashed it down. This was not a moment to be bothered with personality conflicts. By the same token, he wasn’t going to apologize for coming from the city and not knowing how to chase cows.
He cleared his throat. “I need to discuss safety issues with you. I’m a businessman, so I know why you require a signed waiver in case of an accident. As a father, though, I can’t help being concerned.”
A range of emotions flitted across Mariah’s face. “A ranch isn’t the same as a city park, but I’ve assigned our most experienced wrangler to you and your daughter for the duration of your visit, and a second one while you’re learning the ropes. Caitlin should be fine if she behaves herself. Now, your registration form says you’ve ridden before...?”
Jacob nodded. “We used to go horseback riding every week,” he said absently, still chewing on Mariah’s comment if she behaves herself. It gave him a nasty sensation in his gut—Kittie never behaved herself these days.
“I’m guessing you rode at a private stable with a riding track.”
“It wasn’t a ranch. We live in Seattle. But we haven’t gone out for several years.”
“That won’t be a problem. The horses I’ve chosen for you are older, savvy and unflappable. You ought to be all right on them—they’re practically catatonic,” Mariah said, a bit too smoothly.
Jacob leaned forward. “I want my daughter to be safe, Miss Weston, not bored. What good will the ranch do her if she’s bored?”
Mariah didn’t blink. “The U-2 isn’t boring, but we do insist that our guests don’t stretch their limits too far.”
Limits?
That was like waving a red flag at a bull, yet before he could react, she went on, “Vacations here are meant to be fun, not dangerous. My grandmother is a doctor and lives on the ranch. My aunt is also a doctor, and she lives in town behind her clinic. They’ve mostly treated our guests for aching bums, upset tummies, cuts, scrapes and sprained ankles. Since you haven’t ridden recently, I suspect you’ll be added to the aching-bum list.”
Nonplussed, Jacob opened his mouth...and then closed it. He wasn’t sure if he’d been insulted or patronized or if Mariah was simply doing her job by informing him of the ranch’s medical support. Taking into account the few amenities the U-2 offered, having two doctors available was a surprise. He just prayed they wouldn’t be needed. Kittie had her mother’s rare blood type, so he always ensured adequate emergency services were present wherever they traveled. In preparation for this trip, his staff had learned there was a well-equipped clinic in the local town, but they hadn’t said a doctor lived on the ranch.
“I’m not sure about that,” he said. “Remember those friends I told you about? Their son came home with a cast on his arm. He broke it at the end of his visit here.”
Mariah’s expression chilled, no doubt from the censure in his tone. Fine, she should know he wasn’t accepting her word without question.
“It happens occasionally—usually when people aren’t practicing reasonable caution or when parents don’t keep tabs on their children, assuming someone else will do it for them. That can happen anywhere, even in the city. Anyway,” she murmured, swinging her legs over the bench to stand up, “your wranglers will catch up with you after breakfast. We work hard on the U-2, so you might want to make sure Caitlin has a healthy meal before starting out. Have a pleasant day, Mr. O’Donnell.”
Jacob glared.
He wanted to call to Mariah’s departing back that he worked hard in Seattle as well and of course he’d ensure that Kittie had a decent breakfast...except it was pointless. Especially about Kittie. He knew perfectly well he couldn’t force his daughter to swallow a bite of food if she didn’t want to. And considering the precarious state of their relationship, she’d probably refuse to eat if he said anything about it.
CHAPTER THREE
LATER THAT AFTERNOON Mariah and Luke Branson rode in the direction the wranglers had taken the O’Donnells. She routinely checked on visitors to be sure the greenhorns were doing okay, and today the newest greenhorns were Jacob and Caitlin...not that Jacob O’Donnell would enjoy being described that way.
Her horse tossed his head, playfully testing her control of the bit. Shadow loved to run, the wind racing by, his hooves thundering across the land.
“You’re a live wire, aren’t you, boy?”
He whinnied and leaped a step. His black coat gleamed warm in the sunlight and his ears were pricked forward, alert to every sound.
“I swear that animal is your best friend. I come in a poor second,” Luke complained good-naturedly.
“He’s my best horse friend,” she agreed. She’d raised Shadow from the day he was born, right after her mom and dad’s accident. It had helped get her through those bleak, grief-filled days. “But you’re my best people friend.”
“So is Reid still saying he doesn’t want to go to college?” Luke asked with a pleased grin.
“More or less.”
“May
be he’s worried how you’ll pay for it.”
“Could be. It’s tight, but we’re doing better. The debts are paid and I’m putting money aside. We should be able to swing the expense.”
“That’s great.” His mount sidestepped skittishly. “Stop it, Ghost, or I’ll turn you into dog food,” he warned the gray-and-white piebald.
Ghost snorted in disbelief.
“I could talk to Reid,” Luke offered. “He might open up for me—man-to-man, that sort of thing. Or at least as his future brother-in-law.”
“Thanks, but I’ve pushed enough. He’s got finals soon and they have to come first.”
“It’s your call. Are those the greenhorns you’re checking on?” Luke gestured to the south, down a sloping hill.
“Looks like them.”
Mariah bent over Shadow’s neck and watched the group in the distance. Though she’d still dressed in black that morning, Caitlin had forgone the silver-studded shirt and purple accents in her hair. Other than those small changes, she’d remained pure defiance. The anxious daughter from the predawn morning was nowhere to be found a few hours later. She’d mouthed off to the cowhands, told the cooks they were serving heart attacks on a plate and shown up an hour late to the corral. She wouldn’t say where she’d been, but Burt had calmly informed her that if it happened again she’d either sit her rear end in the tent for the day or spend it shoveling out the horse stalls.
Burt was always calm. It made him a terrific wrangler for kids. Things that might give anyone else a stroke made him yawn. She wished she could say the same thing about herself. Having Jacob imply she was lying about the injuries on the ranch had infuriated her. There had been a boy who’d broken his arm the prior year...but he’d fallen in Buckeye when his parents stopped to buy postcards on their way to the airport.
Luke controlled another sideways jump from his horse. “This O’Donnell fellow sounds like a real piece of work. I’ve never heard you gripe so much about a guest.”
“He rubs me wrong.”
The Ranch Solution Page 4