by Jillian Hart
“He said it could.”
“Have him order in a new chip, he’ll know which one. I can fix this with a pass. It’ll be enough to get you by.”
“Appreciate it, son.” Pete nodded, his brows furrowed not with fatigue but with thought. “Good thing you came along when you did. I’d been asking for help, what with my brother makin’ things complicated.”
“Ah. Hired him to help and he’s not showing up?”
“He works when he does show up. But it’s the showing up that’s the problem.” Troubled, Pete swept off his Stetson and mopped his brow. “Storm’s about to break. Best start headin’ in.”
“This’ll take me a minute.” Brody hauled his knife out of his pocket and bent to work. “How about you? You’ve been farming a long time, by the looks of it. Have you ever wanted to do anything else?”
“Never. Working the land is what I’m meant to do.” Pete gazed at the sky where the first bolt of lightning fingered across the leaden sky. “’Course, some days I have to ask the Lord if He ever meant for me to retire. Seeing as He didn’t see to send me a son, I’m not sure what I’m to do with all this land. ’Course, I’ve got some fine sons-in-law, but they’re not farmers.”
“Daughters can be farmers.” Brody noticed how Pete tensed. His hands fisted.
“Seein’ as you and Michelle have struck up a friendship, I don’t mind tellin’ you that she’s had a hard time of it, what with the way her last boyfriend treated her.”
So, that’s where Pete was going. To warn Brody off his daughter. Another sign of Pete McKaslin’s decency. He loved his family and protected them. Brody knifed through the wire and peeled back the coating. “Some men don’t live up to their word.”
“That’s the truth. Turns out Rick figured this was a real valuable spread I had. Thought he’d get himself a rich wife, but he thought wrong.”
Brody heard the unspoken warning. He straightened and closed his pocketknife with a click.
“Some people don’t know what’s important in life. They think the shortcut to easy money is worth anything, no matter what laws they break. It doesn’t matter who gets hurt. When the truth is, what’s important and valuable on this farm isn’t the property, but the family you raised inside that house.” Brody met Pete’s gaze. Stood tall and straight while the older man took his measure.
Finally Pete nodded. “That’ll do.” He headed toward the house.
Always on the outside looking in, Brody took his time, keeping a close eye on the house. He watched the kitchen window as Michelle greeted her dad with a smile and waltzed out of sight, only to return with a big glass of iced tea.
There she was, tugging at his insides again, as if his heart was still on that string.
What was it about her? He didn’t know. He only knew this was wrong on many levels. A highly trained, decorated senior agent did not spend his time on a mission watching a woman serve her father a glass of iced tea.
The trouble was, he couldn’t look away. His gaze kept drifting back to her, to her gentle smile, her willowy grace and the way she made him feel. As if she were the answer to every question he’d ever had.
His next thought was torn away by the squeak of brakes and the crunch of tires breaking on the gravel. An older red pickup that had seen better days veered around the parked truck and skidded to a stop.
A truck he’d been hoping to see. The same license plate, make and model that was registered to a Michael M. McKaslin, according to the Department of Motor Vehicles.
Brody figured he deserved a demotion for being distracted while undercover. His captain would have his head for this, if he knew. Ashamed, Brody shut the truck’s hood to get his first look at his counterfeiter. They had a fuzzy picture of him from a convenience store tape and another from the bank in Bozeman where he had an account, but nothing had prepared Brody for how much the man had changed in the last few months.
His combed black hair had turned salt and pepper. Bags sagged under his bloodshot eyes. His lifestyle was catching up to him, and he had to figure he was here because they’d been tailing him all across Montana. Where there would be no lease, no utility bill, nothing to let the Feds know where he was.
“Hey, who are you and what are you doin’ here?” Mick’s suspicious gaze slammed hard into his.
Brody could smell the fear. Yeah, Mick was on his guard. The former rodeo rider motorcycling his way through Montana didn’t know Mick McKaslin so he had to keep his cover intact. Brody held out his hand, friendly and easygoing. “I’m Brody Gabriel.”
“I bet you’re Michelle’s new beau.”
“A friend.” Brody had to set aside everything he knew about Mick McKaslin, on the job, at full alert. “Not a boyfriend. Yet.”
Mick chuckled, and the suspicion melted away. “Oh, she’s a great gal, my little Michelle. And hey, there she is!”
“Uncle Mick!”
Brody stepped back as Michelle raced across the yard and into her uncle’s benevolent arms.
After a quick hug, she stepped away, bright and sparkling. “Where have you been? We were starting to worry. I’ve got pizza hot from the oven. Want some?”
“You know I do, darlin’. Would it be too much trouble?”
“No way. You know I’d do anything for you.”
Brody’s stomach turned to ice. What did she say? There was no way she meant it literally. No way. He wouldn’t believe it. It was an expression, that was all—
“Here’s a little something for my favorite niece.” Mick reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “You go buy something nice for yourself next time you’re in town.”
Brody relaxed. The adrenaline quit squirting into his bloodstream. She was innocent, just as he’d believed.
“Oh, Uncle Mick. You can’t keep spoiling me like this.”
“What else is my namesake for? Now git on up to the house. I’ll drag your new beau in with me. Would like a chance to talk with him.”
“Uncle Mick!” Michelle turned a bright shade of pink. “Brody, don’t pay him any attention.”
A sudden gust of wind lifted a dust devil from the driveway and preceded another flash of lightning that seared the sky and seemed to make the ground crackle at their feet.
“It’s time to head for cover.” Mick whipped off his cowboy hat, gazed up at the sky and then looked straight at Brody. “You can never tell how safe you are. It’s always best to be cautious.”
An unsettling feeling slid into Brody’s stomach. He followed Mick toward the house, glad he had his revolver tucked in his boot. He was determined to banish every thought of Michelle from his mind tonight.
Mick was right. A man could never be too careful.
Zero. It’s the last word Brody spelled during their Scrabble match. It was also a number she needed to pay attention to. She had to be losing her mind, because all common sense told her to look the other way when Brody stalked into the room, a predator in black boots and denim, but what did she do?
Look right at him.
He was ignoring her. Following Uncle Mick to the table where her father was rifling through the morning paper he hadn’t had time to read. Brody straddled a chair, the way the tough macho heroes did in Western movies, and she felt the knot of emotion harden into an aching ball.
He was a little older than she was. He was well traveled, wiser, worldly and tough. His hands were marked with scars from old cuts—probably rodeo injuries.
She set two empty glasses on the table and filled them from the iced tea pitcher. Brody didn’t look up; he merely nodded his thanks.
Disappointment twisted around her, like a lasso yanking her so tight she couldn’t breathe. Yep, he was fully aware of her crush. Of every word she’d created on the Scrabble board because romance had been on her mind. And what had he written?
Loner. Freedom. Single.
Yeah, she got the clue. Michelle left the pitcher on the table. “Dad, I’m going out to put up the horses.”
“T
hanks, sweetie.” Her father answered absently, the way he did when he was preoccupied.
“Can I see the classifieds, sir?” Brody asked in that intimate wonderful baritone of his.
Hearing his voice made her long a little more.
She headed outside, where rain wet her face and washed away her tears.
Chapter Seven
Michelle burst into the kitchen and startled her mom, who turned from the cutting board. “Good morning, sweetie. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Town. I’m meeting Jenna at the diner for breakfast.”
“Make sure you eat a well-balanced meal, now.” Smiling her approval, her mom returned to dicing potatoes for the frying pan. “Will you be here for supper? Kendra’s coming.”
“Oh, I’ve got a late appointment at the Snip & Style, and then I’m going to do Jenna’s hair.”
“Dear, I guess I won’t see you until bedtime. You call me if you’re not home by ten, you hear? A mother worries. Oh, and did you hear the good news?”
Michelle stole a raw slice of potato from the pile on the counter. Its sweet crispness exploded over her tongue as she chewed. “You mean about Kendra’s new foal?”
“No, dear. Although that reminds me, I need to call her. She’s bringing potato salad to supper today. I need her to bring dessert, too. Anyway,” Alice continued, as she returned to her slicing, “Uncle Mick’s going to buy us out.”
“What?” Michelle’s keys tumbled from her fingers and crashed on the linoleum at her feet. She knelt to retrieve them, but the shaking didn’t stop. Sell the land? Dad was selling the land? Her stomach twisted into knots. “When did you all decide this?”
“Your father’s been looking to retire for some time, you know that.”
“Sure, but—” Michelle bit her bottom lip before her thoughts could escape. “You’d let Uncle Mick have this place?”
“Your father wouldn’t take a contract on the land, Mick’s offered us cash. Of course, that doesn’t include the twenty acres the house and stables are sitting on. We’d be staying here, so don’t look so alarmed, sweetheart.”
Michelle’s head was spinning.
Sell the land? How could they have done something so drastic without even mentioning it? Her feet felt unsteady as she headed toward the door. Numb inside, she was on autopilot, turning the knob, pulling open the door, stepping through the threshold. “Are you sure you want to sell?”
“We’re seeing the lawyer this week.” Her mother sure seemed happy at the news. Done with her chopping, she grabbed a bowl and slid the big heap of diced potatoes into it, using the edge of the knife. “Don’t worry. You’ll always have a home with us.”
Michelle tried hard to smile. This was good news for her parents. They had been tied to the land for so long. And now that their family was raised and they were reaching their retirement years, they would have enough money to do anything they wanted.
This was a lot better for them than if they’d been offered a real estate contract. A cash-out deal was a great opportunity for them.
“You have a good day, okay, Mom? Give me a call if you need me to pick up anything in town for you.”
“That’s a good girl. I might just have to do that. Goodness, your grandmother and I had the best time last night. Holly Pittman’s wedding was such an event, I tell you.”
“I’m glad.” Michelle managed to make it to the back porch.
Since her knees were quaking, she took it as a sign she ought to sit down. The porch step’s boards were rough and weathered, but warm from the sun as she settled onto them.
The sweet morning air breezed over her face like a kiss, and Keno grazing with the other horses in the white fenced paddock lifted his head and whinnied a greeting.
This land was her life. She’d lived here every one of her twenty-two years. Her childhood was here. She’d thought that her future might be here, too.
A shiny quarter landed on the flagstones at her feet.
Brody strode around the corner. He wore a simple white T-shirt and faded Levi’s. “Hey, I’d pay you a penny for your thoughts, but you looked so serious, I figured it would cost me more.”
“I was deep in thought, but then someone interrupted me.” She managed to smile. And tried hard not to think about how he wasn’t actually looking at her but at the nail beginning to pop up out of the bottom step.
“Sorry. I’m here to fetch breakfast and paint the final coat on the garage. Is your mom inside?” He stuck his hands in his front pockets as if he didn’t know what to do with them.
“Yep.” She stared at her fingernail polish that was starting to chip. She’d have to fix that. “I hear you get your bike back today.”
“Yep.”
That meant he’d be leaving. To each thing there is a season, she knew. The Lord had meant for Brody to cross her path. Surely, He had his reasons. “I hope you have a safe journey. That no more deer leap into your path unexpectedly.”
“I appreciate it.” He started up the edge of the steps, as far away from her as the banister would allow. “It looks like I might not be leaving yet. You know that ad your father put in the newspaper?”
“For seasonal help?”
“That would be the one. I’m thinking of staying, if your dad will have me.”
“There’s a reasonable chance of that.” When she smiled, he’d never seen anything so lovely.
“I never thanked you for everything you did for me that night when I was hurt. I was lucky I was just banged up. If I’d been really hurt, it was good to know I wouldn’t have been lying in the road alone.”
“No problem. I’m glad you’re all right, Brody. Really. That you’re able to go on your way, healthy and all in one piece.” She felt her stomach clench, because she knew from her older sister’s death how final an accident could be. How precious everyone’s time was here.
That she shouldn’t waste it pining away for something that wasn’t meant to be. “I’m glad I could help out. But why would you want to stay here?”
Did he tell her the truth? Not about the mission, but his truth? He hesitated, so that one foot was on the top step beside her. “I’d like to work on a farm again. I’ve been thinking about getting some land. I have a little pocket money saved up. Listening to your father and uncle last night got me to thinking about wide-open spaces.”
“Land.” Michelle turned wistful. “I’d like that someday, too, but it’s way expensive. So that’s why I live at home. Okay, the card debt is another, but that’s not the only reason. As exciting as big cities must be, I can’t imagine living forever bound by concrete and steel.”
“You’re happy here.”
“It’s what I am. A country girl.” She bowed her head and shrugged, as if she’d confessed too much.
Why was it that he could see her dreams? Brody knew without asking what she wanted.
He saw it all in an image, as if it were a thought of his own. Horses grazing in all these carefully groomed paddocks, which were empty but for a few animals. Hay and alfalfa in the fields, riding a green tractor over the rolling hills, cutting and baling and praying for good weather.
To know the freedom of the wind, the sun and the land.
“I know what you mean.” He cleared the gruffness from his voice. “I guess it’s hard to take the country out of the boy. Or the farmer.”
“Is that why you’re retiring from the rodeo?”
“The best part of my life sometimes feels like it’s behind me. I don’t know if I’m trying to find my past.”
“Or your future?”
“Exactly.” How could she know? Brody knew full well he ought to be heading inside; he had work to do.
He couldn’t seem to step forward, so he sat beside her. “Some of the best memories I have are of being on the tractor with my dad, held safe on his lap, riding out to check on the livestock. Companionable, just the two of us.” He gazed into the distance.
“Guess I want to bring back those memories of my dad.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and find the right woman to marry, so I’ll have a son of my own to take out on the tractor. Guess I’m looking for a new life.”
Michelle could hear the longing in his voice. How amazing they had this in common, too. Her heart squeezed. There it was, that connection again, unseen but tangible. Gazing into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his understanding, she was afraid to move for fear of breaking the fragile bond.
It was as if they were breathing together, and she’d never felt so close to anyone. Not physically, but emotionally. It felt as if a string stretched from her heart to his, like those homemade mittens her mom had made her wear when she was in kindergarten. The kind with a string of yarn sewn from one mitten to the other so they wouldn’t get lost in the snow.
“I know what you mean,” she confessed. “When I was born, I guess my dad always figured out that after six girls he’d never have a son, so I think I sort of was his. I hung out with him, rode in the tractor and the combine. When I was old enough, I helped bring in the crops. I drive a harvester better than anything else.”
“Judging by the dents in your truck, I sure hope so.” He tossed her a wink and made her laugh.
“I know. You’re like everyone else. As if a dented truck and the 411 on the latest fashion trends is the most that you can expect from me.”
“That’s not what I think.”
“It’s not?”
Please, Lord, help me find the strength to hold back the truth. Brody knew if he said the words he was thinking, he’d tell her what a good and kind person she was. Wonderful and unique. So fresh and untouched and amazing, different from any woman he’d ever met.
He would tell her that when he was back home in Virginia, in his two-bedroom town house and he closed his eyes on another day of hard work done, he was alone—as he’d been for all his adult life.
He would tell her that when he looked inside his soul, she was what he’d been dreaming of.
He was on a mission. He had a job to do. But not forever, he realized. Soon, he would be free to find a whole new life.