The Ranch Solution

by Julianna Morris

  Luke raised his eyebrows inquiringly when she got close and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “Somebody dumped whiskey in the punch.”

  “That could liven up a party.”

  “Stop it.” She rapped his ribs lightly with her knuckles.

  Caitlin? he mouthed silently.

  Got me, she mouthed back.

  While she suspected the youngster, she didn’t have any proof. It was the sort of teen prank she might have once pulled herself if she hadn’t always felt so protective of the ranch. Even so, her high-school years had been more carefree than Reid’s. Her parents had confidently told her she could study what she wanted and not to worry about how they would pay for it. She was trying to get the same message across to Reid, but with less success.

  “How about another dance, Caitlin?” Luke asked.

  Mariah squeezed his hand. He was truly one of the good guys. Dancing with a sullen, morose kid couldn’t be appealing, yet he was doing it, nonetheless.

  Caitlin appeared ready to accept the invitation, then Reid walked by with Laura Shelton holding his arm. He’d danced with several of the girls from high school, but Laura more than any other, and she looked smugly satisfied.

  “I don’t want to dance with anyone. Square dancing is stupid. It’s totally for losers,” Caitlin said loudly. It was one of those quirky moments when the music from the band ended as she was winding into her speech, and her words echoed through the barn. A number of the U-2 guests and neighbors turned toward them curiously.

  Jacob’s eyes darkened with anger. “Kittie—”

  “I hate you all.” She stormed across the dance floor and out the far doors.

  “Damn it,” Jacob muttered. He took a step forward and Mariah caught his sleeve. “What?”

  She’d rather not get involved, but she had to be fair. “Think before you confront her,” she said in a low, urgent tone. “Cool down first. It’s understandable that Caitlin is upset. The other girls have been invited to dance by the boys their own age, but she has been left out. Believe me, at fourteen it doesn’t matter how often you dance with your father—it isn’t the same.”

  Comprehension dawned on Jacob’s face, along with conflicted sympathy. Mariah didn’t know whether to feel sorry for him or kick him for the sake of all adolescent girls struggling to become adults. And it had to be worse for Caitlin, with no mother and an overprotective father who didn’t want her to grow up.

  “What if she tries saddling Blue and running away?”

  Belatedly, Mariah released his arm. “She can try getting a saddle on him, but Blue won’t leave the corral unless we tell him it’s okay.”

  “And you think that it’s normal she got upset?”

  “I don’t know about normal, but I would have felt the same in her shoes.”

  Some of the tension eased from Jacob’s face. “Fine. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  “Good. Now, why don’t you just go grab a cup of coffee—I’m sure you’re planning to work after the dance. Reggie made regular for you.”

  He looked at her darkly but stomped toward the beverage table.

  Luke put his hands on Mariah’s shoulders. “Regular coffee? Isn’t he wired enough without the caffeine?”

  “I’m pretty sure he mainlines the stuff. He drinks coffee all evening, and you know how strong Reggie makes it.”

  “I might do the same if Caitlin was my daughter. Is that what we have to look forward to as parents?” Luke said in mock dismay.

  Mariah laughed. “You never know.”

  “God have mercy.”

  By mutual accord they walked outside of the barn for some fresh air and he tugged her against him. “This is nice,” he murmured, kissing her upraised face.

  It was nice, but Mariah couldn’t relax, unable to stop picturing Caitlin’s hurt, angry expression in her mind.

  Why was growing up so hard?

  Reid was having just as much trouble in a different way, and she hated knowing he wasn’t free to feel as if the future was spread out in front of him with unlimited possibilities. That was how it should be at his age. She wanted to fix what was wrong, but she couldn’t get Reid to talk to her any more than Jacob was able to get his daughter to open up to him.

  Darn it anyhow. She shouldn’t have interfered between Caitlin and her father—what did she know about raising kids? And Jacob was trying to connect with Caitlin, though he didn’t seem to have a clue how to do it. No one could claim the angst-ridden teenager was easy to deal with.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Luke asked after a moment.

  Mariah shook herself. “Nothing.”

  “Come on, I know you better than that. Is it Reid? Whatever it is, let me help.”

  He always wanted to help, yet the ranch and Reid were her responsibilities. It wasn’t fair to unload them onto someone else.

  She kissed him again. “It’s nothing. Tell me more about Little Foot’s new colt.”

  A flash of emotion crossed his face, gone so fast she couldn’t guess what it meant, but then he shrugged. “He’s thriving, and Little Foot is proving to be a fine mother. I’ve decided to name him Light Foot since he has his mama’s easy step.”

  “I’d love to see him. Maybe I could come over on Monday or Tuesday.”

  Luke held her tighter. “That would be great.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EARLY SUNDAY JACOB PULLED out his smartphone and typed Goth into the internet search function. Mariah had mentioned Kittie adopting a Goth look, and he’d had no idea what she meant.

  Describing them as a subculture wasn’t much help.

  He browsed the top informational hits, his eyes widening. Kittie’s clothes and makeup were similar to the pictures and descriptions of modern-day Goths. How had Mariah known about them? He hadn’t known and he lived in the city, not the back roads of Montana. Of course, it was becoming uncomfortably clear that he hadn’t noticed very much outside of his company these past few years.

  At the mess tent he found Burt telling Kittie how cowboys took care of their tack—tack being the equipment that went on a horse—and how to properly saddle a horse. Jacob expected Kittie to furiously declare that she already knew it all, but she listened solemnly and ended by asking if Burt would give her a lesson after breakfast.

  On the other hand, she gave him a cool glance that could have frozen a polar bear. It reminded Jacob of what he’d told Mariah—he was tired of being the bad guy. But that was parenting, sometimes having to say no more often than saying yes. Hell, with his bank account and investment portfolio, he could say yes more often than some parents, and he was still the bad guy.

  “When does the family from Australia get here?” Kittie asked Burt.

  “Well, now, they said they’d get in around five. They’re takin’ a drive through several states and were spending the night in Rapid City over there in South Dakota.”

  “Okay. Well, I’m going to get my camera to take some pictures of Blue.”

  Kittie left, seemingly oblivious to the stares of their fellow vacationers who’d witnessed her outburst at the dance. Or maybe the stares were Jacob’s imagination. But with most of the U-2 guests finishing their breakfasts, he decided to talk to Kittie where there were fewer listening ears. It would be crazy later in the morning, since departing guests would be busy packing their belongings and loading up their cars.

  “We need to discuss last night,” he said when Kittie emerged from their tent with the digital camera he’d given her at Christmas.

  Her mouth set stubbornly.

  “I’m sorry the local boys didn’t ask you to dance, but...well, next time you could ask them.”

  “I’d rather die. It’s all your fault. You didn’t tell me there’d be a barn dance,” she said accusingly. “You didn’t want me to bring the r
ight stuff so I’d fit in and the guys would like me.”

  “What? That’s absurd.”

  She set her mouth mulishly and glared.

  “Kittie, I went into that town...Buck-something...and got you appropriate Western outfits, which you refuse to wear. And you know very well that I don’t even like those black clothes. You have perfectly nice outfits at home that you could have brought here instead.”

  Without another word, she pushed past him toward the corral, and Jacob would have laughed if he wasn’t so frustrated. Her accusations were comical considering how defensive she was about the Halloween outfits she’d been wearing all year. Goth or not, she looked horrible in them.

  From across the compound, he saw Mariah coming out of the barn they’d used for the dance. As she came closer, he saw she was carrying a bottle, making him remember something else he’d intended to speak with Kittie about—basically, did she spike the punch at the party? Few people had tasted the whiskey-laced fruit beverage prior to it being discovered, but the story had rapidly filtered through the partygoers, with varying degrees of amusement. And his daughter was the prime suspect after her rude performance.

  The prank might have been more effective if the culprit had picked something like vodka, being a less dominant flavor...which made Jacob suspect Kittie even more. He doubted she knew one type of liquor from another. Dumping booze in a punch bowl might not be as serious as smoking and setting fire to the school, but he couldn’t afford to dismiss it.

  Jacob caught up with Mariah before she reached the ranch house. “I hear somebody spiked the punch last night,” he said. “Are you checking for fingerprints on the evidence?”

  “Nope. Just headed for the recycle barrel.”

  “You have recycling in Montana?”

  “You’d be surprised at what we have here...though we do have to haul glass to Rapid City in South Dakota.” She glanced at the whiskey bottle she held and back at him. “No one saw Caitlin do anything, Jacob. It could have been anybody at the party.”

  “We both know it was Kittie.”

  “Not necessarily. Somebody may have figured that Ki...Caitlin would be blamed and decided to pull a joke and let her take the rap. The winters are long in Montana and folks can kick up their heels when it’s over.”

  That might all be true, but Jacob had a gut feeling that Hurricane Kittie had struck again.

  “Anyway,” Mariah continued, “it was relatively harmless as practical jokes go. I wouldn’t tolerate an employee doing it at a family dance, but it isn’t as if the guests were going to get drunk on a pint of whiskey diluted by two gallons of fruit punch. That’s a Hollywood invention.”

  “And exactly where Kittie could have gotten the idea.”

  Mariah frowned. “I realize it would be hard to switch the name you use for Kittie, but didn’t she say she prefers Caitlin?”

  “She said that because of Reid and wanting to sound more grown-up. She’s always been Kittie to me—it’s what Anna called her.”

  “I see.”

  A truck towing a horse trailer came over the hill on the road from the highway.

  Mariah waved as Luke Branson got out. “Excuse me,” she said and hurried back down to meet him.

  Jacob’s eyes narrowed as Mariah and the tall rancher kissed briefly. There was a subtle nuance to the embrace, with Mariah a half step behind Branson. Less eager, perhaps? Or was he reading something into it that wasn’t there?

  And why did he care in the first place?

  The rancher apparently made a joke about the empty bottle she carried, taking it to examine, then tossing it into the bed of the pickup. He put his arm around her waist and they walked to the gate of the horse trailer. After a few minutes, Mariah led a silvery-gray horse down a ramp.

  Guests leaving the mess tent soon surrounded them, and the animal stood quietly amid the commotion. Kittie was in the front of the group and Jacob joined the admiring crowd, hoping his daughter would be polite and not make another scene.

  “What a beauty,” an older woman declared.

  “This is Moonfire,” Mariah said. “Mr. Branson is giving her to a program in California that works with special-needs children. We’re going to polish her training at the U-2.”

  Kittie appeared fascinated. She let Moonfire sniff her fingers before rubbing the horse’s nose. “Can I ride her?”

  “Sure.”

  “But I want to keep Blue for when we go out on the range,” Kittie said quickly.

  Mariah nodded. “I understand. You’ll stay assigned to Blue, but we need volunteers, particularly kids, to ride Moonfire around the corral and the ranch buildings to get her used to having different riders.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Great. She’ll be settling in today, but you can have a turn tomorrow.”

  * * *

  THAT AFTERNOON Reid let his horse, Buttons, race across the rolling grassland, wanting to outrun how he felt.

  He and Mariah had almost gotten into an argument after lunch, with her wanting to talk about college. He’d left before she could say much. He didn’t want to talk; he knew what he had to do and it was dumb believing anything else was possible. He would sign up for college courses over the internet instead of going away to school. Not that he could become a veterinarian or anything with online classes, but it would be good to know more about business and accounting.

  A little later Reid pulled up on the reins and rode Buttons along the crest of a low hill. The air was balmy and the cattle in the distance seemed to be appreciating both the warmth and grazing on the lush grass. He was far enough away that they paid no heed to his presence, though it wouldn’t take much to spook them.

  He understood animal behavior, partly from being in a ranching family and partly from all the reading he did. But Mariah understood it instinctively. She had a way with animals that left everyone else in the dust. Heck, she just seemed to know what they were thinking and what was wrong with them. It was one of the reasons the ranch hands respected her, especially the older guys. They’d been around and seen it all, and yet she could do things with cows and horses they couldn’t dream of doing.

  I’ll never be that good, Reid thought. It was just as well he wasn’t going to veterinary college. He could learn every scientific theory in existence and still not measure up to Mariah. But he could be a good rancher and run the vacation business his folks had started.

  Yet another guilty thought niggled at Reid and he squirmed.

  Kittie O’Donnell.

  Jeez, why had he ignored Kittie at the U-2’s weekly gathering? She’d looked peculiar, but he could have at least danced with her. If he had, his buddies might have danced with her, too. Mariah tried to make sure their guests enjoyed themselves; if he was going to operate the ranch someday, he had to do better, be more responsible. She wouldn’t ever feel free to marry Luke if she had to keep taking care of everything herself.

  As for Kittie...she was an odd duck. He liked her okay, only it was hard paying attention to a loudmouthed, troublemaking squirt when Laura and the other girls were around. But he should have done it anyhow. After all, Mariah was being nice to Kittie’s father, despite him being a stuck-up jerk. She’d even danced with Mr. O’Donnell, which sure hadn’t made Luke happy.

  Reid fingered Buttons’s reins. “Come on, boy, let’s get back to the ranch,” he muttered, turning the horse.

  He put Buttons in the corral; with any luck he’d have time for another ride later. A lot of their guests left for home on Sundays, so it was usually quiet following the flurry of departures. Meals were served, the pastor came out and did an open-air service, and the usual chores caring for the horses and other livestock were handled, but otherwise there wasn’t as much to do.

  He knew that Burt had taken Kittie and her father riding, but Blue and Strider, the chestnut
that Mr. O’Donnell had been assigned, were already curried and back in their stalls.

  “Hiya, Blue,” Reid said, going in and running his hands across the horse’s withers and shoulders. Kittie had begun grooming Blue herself and he wanted to be sure she was doing it right. To his surprise, the animal was immaculate, without a speck of dirt anywhere. He lifted Blue’s feet and found them just as clean. “Looks like you’ve been done proper, old boy.”

  Blue snorted softly.

  “Burt showed me how to do it. You don’t have to check up on me,” Kittie declared out of thin air, startling him.

  Reid cursed under his breath. Peering over Blue’s neck, he saw Kittie sitting in the hay in the shadowed corner of the stall. How had he missed spotting her there? Was it all the black she wore? Crabby, one of the barn cats, looked up from his nest in her lap and let out an irritable meow.

  Was that really Crabby?

  He stared. Crabby had earned his name by being antisocial with people, though when it came to horses, he was as mellow as maple sugar. He had a special friendship with Blue and slept curled up next to him. A lazy snooze in the middle of the day was the kind of thing he’d resent having interrupted, so it was strange to see him cozied up with Blue and Kittie.

  “I always keep an eye out. It’s nothing personal,” he said. “We take good care of our horses. They rarely get sick because we groom them every day and make sure the stables are clean and dry.” And it didn’t hurt that Mariah was there, seeming to know when something wasn’t quite right.

  “Yeah, guess I have to learn how to shovel horse poop, too.”

  She got up and hugged Blue before sliding out the stall door. Crabby left, as well, tail arched high, stopping at the threshold to hiss at Reid. It was typical of the black-and-white feline.

  “Hey, Kittie, wait,” Reid called, racing after her. “I...uh...thought I should apol...um, say I’m sorry about last night. I should have been...” His voice trailed off miserably.

  * * *

  “NEVER MIND,” Kittie said awkwardly, wishing Reid wouldn’t say anything else. She’d rather forget the dance entirely.