by Hope Navarre
“It’s George,” Walt growled.
Ryan coiled his rope. There’d be no focusing until Walt got a grip. After the snake scare with Ellison, he’d spent a couple hours on the mountain looking for the cows, then he had come back to work on the broken irrigation head gate. He’d hoped to be finished in time to rope some calves, but had gotten back too late, so he’d had to settle for roping the dummy. Until Walt had shown up, livid.
Walt’s scowl intensified. “Aren’t you going to practice?”
“I’m good,” Ryan said.
“I’ve never known you to be good.”
“Good enough, then.” Ryan rarely sloughed practice, but tonight he figured he needed to focus on Walt. Calm him down before he left tomorrow night. He had back-to-back rodeos three hundred miles apart, one of which had a rich purse he needed to win—a purse that his brother wouldn’t be fighting him for. It still felt so damned strange.
“Having this woman around is very unsettling,” Walt grumbled, resuming his pacing. “These people know nothing.” He shot another fierce look at Ryan. “She told me she knows nothing. She’s ‘here to learn,’” he quipped, miming quotation marks.
“I know you hoped this would be like the Bar R and the Trail Creek,” Ryan said, referring to two ranches that had sold to absentee owners solely interested in tax write-offs. “And it may still play out that way. Give it some time. Don’t piss these guys off.”
“If George has his way, then none of us will be here to piss anyone off,” Walt muttered.
“You don’t know that it’s George.”
“You don’t know that it isn’t,” Walt growled.
Ryan came to stand in front of the old man, waiting for him to glare up at him before he said, “I’m not telling you what to do or anything—” although he really was “—but while I’m gone, kind of steer clear of Ms. Hunter, at least until you cool off. No sense burning any bridges just because she might be bringing in George Monroe.”
“Afraid I’ll muck things up for all of us?” Walt asked.
“Totally.” The frustration of working with a person who knew nothing about ranching but was suddenly the boss was that there was a lot of explaining to do. Some people could take it, some couldn’t. Walt was in the latter camp. He wasn’t going to put up with micromanaging and questioning the wisdom of his decisions.
Walt considered, then gave a soft snort. “Maybe lying low is the best thing to do.”
“For now,” Ryan agreed, relieved. “No chance you want to come to the rodeo with me? Lonnie and Francisco could cover while we’re gone.”
“I have a lot to do rebuilding the calving barn,” Walt said. “And hopefully I’ll be here next spring to use it.”
“Which is why you’re going to lie low for now.”
“Agreed,” the old man muttered. “I’ll be invisible. Or as invisible as I can be with power tools.”
Walt got into his rig a few minutes later and took off for his house, or the Garcia’s, depending on whether he went there to eat or not. Sometimes Walt liked being social and playing Grandpa to the kids, and sometimes he just needed to be left alone. Ryan and Francisco and Jessie understood that. Ellison probably wouldn’t.
Once Walt was gone, Ryan threw a few more practice loops before deciding to call it a night. He’d asked Lonnie to handle the irrigating tomorrow while he took one last stab at finding Walt’s missing cattle, and then it was simply a matter of showering and driving two hundred miles to the rodeo where he’d compete the following morning. It’d be a string of long days, but that was the way it was in the summers. Nothing he could do about it except deal with sleep deprivation.
“Excuse me?” Ellison’s voice startled him. After Walt left for the day, Ryan was always alone.
Not anymore.
She stood at the corner of the bunkhouse wearing a long white shirt over slim dark jeans with those flimsy flat shoes, regarding him with those cool green eyes that he found more attractive than he wanted to admit. She started toward him when he didn’t answer immediately and as she got closer he could see that her hair wasn’t as perfect as usual. Instead it looked as if she’d been resting her head in her hands, loosening the strands around her face, giving her a softer look. “I was wondering if you were able to do anything about the snake?” she asked.
“I, uh, no,” he confessed. He’d pushed the matter of Hiss to the back of his mind and left it there. “I haven’t had time and I didn’t see Lonnie today.”
“Could you maybe call him?” Ellison asked with a polite edge to her voice.
So much for softness. “Sure.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight, but there’s no guarantee that Lonnie’s going to be able to catch him immediately.”
“He can try.”
“That he can.” Ryan walked toward her, rope in hand. She cocked her head.
“Were you roping?”
“Yes.” It seemed best to keep answers short and sweet, and then maybe she’d go back to her house.
“Like for exercise?”
A smile formed before he could stop it. “I guess.”
She studied him for a moment, obviously trying to get a read. “Do you do a lot of roping on the ranch?”
“During branding, yeah.” He stopped a few feet away from her, letting the rigid coils of the rope bounce on the side of his leg. “But that’s not why I’m practicing. I rodeo during the summers.”
“I’ve never met anyone who rodeos.” She smiled that cool smile of hers. “I’ve never met anyone who uses the word rodeo as a verb.”
“I guess that’s because you’re from the other side of the Mississippi.” He bounced the rope off his leg again, the coils making a soft clacking sound, impatient to get back to his place, away from her. He debated about announcing that he’d be gone for the next couple days, but decided not to take a chance on her messing things up. She wasn’t there to take over ranch operations. She was there to get a feel for how it was run. His absences were part of the package. “I didn’t get a chance to write my bullet points yet.”
“Let me know when you do.” Spoken like a boss.
“I will. And I’ll have Lonnie keep an eye out for Hiss. Now, if there’s nothing else, I haven’t eaten yet and I’d kind of like to.”
“Of course,” she said briskly as she took a step back. But there was something in her expression that he hadn’t expected to see there. A touch of disappointment. A touch of...loneliness?
Welcome to rural life, lady.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELLIE WAS ALMOST at the house when a loud bellow made her jump. One of the cows out in the pasture was making a noise that she’d had no idea cows made until she’d arrived here. She went into the house, closing the door behind her, shutting out the cows, the night. Her closest neighbor who hadn’t been able to get away from her quick enough.
It was understandable. These guys were concerned about their jobs with a new owner taking over. Since she spent her time advising people on hiring and firing issues, she was used to employees giving her a wide berth when possible, measuring words as they spoke to her, but she wasn’t used to it happening in a situation where the employees were the only other human beings around for miles.
Damn it, she’d lived alone for years and being by herself shouldn’t feel so overwhelming.
Except that now she was alone with a lot of time to think.
Ellie went to the kitchen and put on a pot of tea. She’d probably regret it later that night as she made her way to the john, but right now she needed something to help her relax and chamomile was her only option. While waiting for the water to boil, she opened her notebook, reviewed her goals. Tomorrow she would make progress on all of them. She’d research obstetricians, call Milo for more information on the ranch consultant and contact a few bus
iness associates. It wouldn’t fill the day, but she’d be moving forward. She was going to be a mother—to a child who was offended by the smell of pumpkin—and she needed to get her act together.
A mother. Wow.
The thought still hit her hard. Ellie pressed her fingers against her abdomen, closed her eyes, tried to visualize. There was a baby in there. A little, tiny, totally vulnerable child. How long until she felt it move? Would she still be here at the ranch? Ellie dropped her hands, stared down at the notebook again. Funny how getting nauseous over the pie had made the baby seem real, made her realize that she no longer half hoped that nature would take care of matters. She wasn’t ready for any of this, wished with all of her heart it hadn’t happened, but it had and she was going to deal with it. All of it. Babies, jobs, ranches. She might not be able to follow her old path, have her old life back, but she could make a new life, a new path. She just wished that as she did it, she felt more like her old self. Confident. In control.
The kettle started to whistle and Ellie closed her notebook. Instead of being confident and in control, she was afraid—afraid that she was never ever going to feel like her old self again. Afraid of being responsible for a child. Afraid of messing up.
And that was why she hated being alone right now. Too much time to think about just how afraid she was.
* * *
EARLY WEDNESDAY MORNING Ellie managed to get hold of Milo at the hospital before he started work and to ask for more information about the ranch consultant.
“I didn’t get you that? I thought I forwarded the correspondence.”
“Maybe it got lost in cyberspace,” Ellie said.
“Or maybe I got busy and forgot,” Milo said. “Sometimes I don’t know what day it is.
“How’s it going there?”
“I’m settling in. I’ve met the employees and taken a look at the property. Now I’m going to observe day-to-day operations.” Although she’d yet to determine exactly how she was going to do that when the employees didn’t want her around.
“Excellent,” Milo said. “How’s everything else?” Meaning, of course, her pregnancy.
“I’m researching obstetricians. I should have an appointment by this afternoon at the latest.” It felt strange discussing OB appointments with her uncle, but Milo and Angela were the closest thing to grandparents as her child would probably have. Mavis would make the occasional appearance, but Ellie had no misconceptions about her taking a role in the child’s life.
Although she had heard of people doing better with their grandchildren than with their own children. Maybe...?
Ellie refused to get her hopes up.
After talking to Milo, Ellie spent the morning reading reviews of obstetricians in surrounding cities and towns, noting the pros and cons of each: distance, insurances accepted, patient relations. It’d taken most of the morning for her to compile a list of acceptable doctors, only to call the top three and discover that they were booked full. They wouldn’t be accepting patients for the next several months, although she could join the waiting list.
She didn’t have several months, and the idea of joining a waiting list seemed ludicrous under the circumstances. Ellie felt the beginning of panic as she hung up for the third time. Apparently patients of her top candidates saw the doctors long before they actually got pregnant—as in they’d planned to get pregnant. Well, that’d been the way Ellie had thought it would happen to her, too. She’d meet a guy, date until she was certain she wanted to spend her life with him, they’d marry, wait two years and then get pregnant. They would, of course, have one boy and one girl. That had been the plan.
It was so thoroughly depressing that it wasn’t working out that way for her. That she was going to have to scramble to find an obstetrician that met her standards.
Doctor number four was located in a smaller town close to the ranch, and when she called she was relieved to hear that they were taking new patients, but the soonest they could book a consultation would be in three weeks. Ellie took the appointment. She would have felt better, and more invisible, with a doctor in Bozeman or Butte, but people were going to find out she was pregnant sooner or later. She might even end up having the child here.
In a place where she’d alienated everyone in a ten-mile radius.
Maybe she needed to do something about that.
* * *
IF THERE WERE cows on that mountain, then they were doing a pretty damned good job of evading him. Ryan had spent almost ten hours in the saddle trying to find the strays, and he was beginning to wonder if someone had taken the animals. Whatever, he was late getting home and he still had to load PJ and drive two hundred miles tonight.
Ryan had just dismounted when he heard the door of the ranch house open and close. Great. The boss.
He continued to unsaddle the gelding as footsteps came across the flagstones, then crunched on gravel. Ellison stopped several yards away from him and for a moment said nothing.
“I don’t know if Lonnie took care of the snake,” he said, answering the question he was pretty sure she was going to ask.
“He looked for it, but couldn’t find it,” Ellison said. “You were gone a long time today.” She shifted slightly as he shot her a quick glance, wondering if the comment was a conversation starter, a criticism, or what. “I saw you ride away early this morning,” she continued. “What do you do on a horse all day?”
Conversation starter. Maybe the boss was getting lonely. “Today I looked for missing cattle.”
“How do cattle go missing?”
“Any number of ways. They can get through a hole in the fence. Gates get left open. Sometimes we don’t find them all when we move them to different areas.”
Ryan started brushing Skipper. “Walt says you’re bringing in a consultant,” he said without looking at Ellison.
“My uncle is.”
“Do your aunt and uncle plan to take residence soon?”
“They’d originally planned to move to the ranch at the end of the summer, but my uncle recently took a promotion instead of retiring.” Ellison’s expression told him that she wasn’t one bit surprised that her uncle had chosen work over retirement. “Now he’s chief of staff at his hospital and the move has been pushed back.”
“And you’re here to hold down the fort.”
“Milo wanted someone from the family here while the consultant did his evaluation.”
“And you happened to be at loose ends.”
“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes as if daring him to ask more. A nerve touched there.
Tempting as it was, he decided not to press matters. “Do you know anything about this consultant?”
“He comes highly recommended.”
“By?”
“One of the neighboring ranchers.” He cocked his head and she added, “The Kenyons.”
“Is his name George Monroe?”
“You know him?” Ellison asked.
“I’m familiar,” he said flatly.
“You don’t seem too pleased.”
Ryan turned toward her, keeping one hand on Skipper’s damp back. “I don’t know how to say this politely, so I’m just going to say it. The guy’s a tool.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Why do you think that?”
“He fired a totally competent crew at the Vineyard and brought in another that was no better than the first. He shakes things up just because he can.”
“That’s your perception,” Ellison replied calmly.
“Yes. That’s my perception.” Ryan tossed the brush into the bucket in the trailer tack room.
“One reason I’m here is to determine if I agree with his recommendations.”
Was she trying to make him feel better? If so, it wasn’t working. “By your own admission, you know nothing about ranching.”
“I know about people and employee efficiency.”
“But if you don’t know this business, how can you judge its efficiency?”
Ellison’s chin came up as he spoke, making it more than obvious that she didn’t like being challenged any more than she liked being wrong.
“Efficiency is usually evident. Like, say, if someone leaves a gate open and then spends the entire day looking for the cattle that got out.”
The first shot fired. All right. “They didn’t get out through an open gate.”
She settled a hand on her hip. “But if you mentioned the possibility, then I assume it has happened.”
“Ranch gates are almost always left open by people who don’t work on the ranch. Hikers. Hunters.”
Her mouth made an O before she said, “Regardless, searching for lost animals doesn’t seem the best use of time.”
“Seem being the key word here, because, by your own admission, you don’t know enough to make a judgment,” Ryan pointed out reasonably, pulling his attention away from her lips.
“Then perhaps you could edify me.”
“I’d be happy to,” he said. “But not tonight.” Even though it was only six o’clock, he had four hours of driving ahead of him.
“Plans?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate and after a few seconds Ellison nodded.
“I won’t keep you,” she said, her cool demeanor slipping back into place. She gave him a faint smile, then turned and walked back toward the house.
Ryan coiled Skipper’s lead rope and then, despite his best intentions, glanced over the horse’s broad back to watch Ellison retreat, feeling an unexpected twinge of regret. He could have made some inroads into her good graces, since it appeared that she’d come to the barn just to talk. But once George’s name came up, everything had gone to hell, which was probably only a taste of what was going to happen once the consultant got there.
Ryan couldn’t wait.
He heard the door to the main house close as he led Skipper toward the pasture. Ellison was back in her sanctuary, a place where he was fairly certain she was ready to climb the walls or she wouldn’t be seeking out his company. She was lonely and because of that a few cracks seemed to be appearing in her walled-off facade.