by Hope Navarre
He hated to admit it, but there was something about her touch-me-not quality that was drawing him in—no doubt the challenge of discovering if there was more to her than met the eye.
A challenge best not acted upon.
* * *
ELLIE GLANCED OUT the kitchen window and saw Ryan loading his black horse into the trailer. He disappeared into his house, then came out carrying a small gym bag and a cooler, stowed those in the front of his pickup and then drove away.
To where?
Did it matter? As long as he did his job, Ryan Madison was none of Ellie’s concern...except that she was interested in where he was going so late with a horse and a cooler.
At least he had something to do. Tomorrow Ellie planned to touch base with some business acquaintances, let people know she’d be looking for a job soon, but at the moment she had nothing but TV to fill her time. Or she did until the wind suddenly rose around ten o’clock that night, howling through the trees and bending the birches in the front yard at an alarming angle. The lights flickered a couple times and then went out, leaving Ellie in the dark, staring in the direction of the blank TV screen and wondering how on earth she’d managed to get to this point in her life. It was then that she noticed that although the lights were off in the house, the yard light was still on. She was no expert, but that seemed wrong.
There were no lights on in Ryan’s house, either, but it wasn’t until she was halfway across the gravel drive with her hair blowing wildly around her that she noted that the truck and trailer weren’t in their usual spots. He hadn’t come back.
She knocked anyway, just in case. No answer. He was well and truly gone and she well and truly had no electricity. She got into her car and drove the half mile to Walter’s house, which was also well lit.
As she got out of the car, fighting to keep the door from blowing out of her hand, the old man opened the door and came out onto the porch.
“Hi,” she called. “I don’t have power.”
“It’s late,” Walt said.
Ellie’s chin lifted in surprise. “I know, but the yard light is on, so maybe it’s just a fuse or something.” He blinked at her as if to say, “And that’s my problem because...?” Ellie pulled in a breath through her teeth. “I don’t know where the fuse box is,” she explained with more patience than she felt.
“Behind the pantry door.”
“I don’t know all that much about fuses.”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He turned and went back into his house without another word. Ellie watched the door close, then dived back into the safety of her car. She’d just started to turn around when Walter came out of the house and got into a truck and drove around her, leading the way back to the main house.
He got out and waited for her to park, then followed her up to the house, a big flashlight in one hand.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said in a stab at making peace once the door was shut against the wind. “I tried to get Ryan, but he isn’t home.”
“Nope,” Walt said, and he walked through the darkened house to the pantry, where he fiddled around behind the door. After a few muttered curses, the metal fuse-box door slammed shut and then Walt headed through the kitchen and out the back door. Ellie followed as far as the door, where she waited. A few minutes later Walter was back.
“Branch fell on the line. I’ll have to call the power guys.”
“So it’s going to remain dark.”
“I don’t see it getting light all of a sudden,” he said.
“I wonder if there are some candles around here?” Ellie couldn’t imagine why there would be. Angela wasn’t a big one for emergency planning.
Walt simply shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Do you have an extra flashlight I might borrow?”
“You don’t have a flashlight?” He shook his head, then grudgingly held out his. When Ellie hesitated, more because of his attitude than because she didn’t want to deprive him of his light, he said, “Take it.”
Ellie took it, and because she was trained to be professional, which meant being polite even when she didn’t want to be, she said, “Thanks.” She even meant it, but she really hated being beholden to this surly man.
After Walt left, it didn’t take long to search the house for emergency lighting. After ten minutes Ellie gave up and crawled into bed, since there wasn’t much else she could do. She couldn’t read on her phone because she didn’t want to waste the battery, and she didn’t want to use the flashlight any more than she had to because it was already growing dim.
“This isn’t how I pictured ranch life in Montana,” she muttered, nestling farther down under the blankets. But it still beat being at her job, working with that liar Nick.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING broke clear and still, with the exception of the birds, which once again woke Ellie up way too early. She walked out onto the porch, hugging her sweater around her. Ryan still wasn’t back. Walt was at the barn, doing whatever he did with the cattle, and Lonnie, who as far as she knew wasn’t on the payroll, had driven a tractor out into the fields a few minutes earlier. But Ryan was nowhere to be seen.
Ellie walked to the barn and followed the noise of cattle to the far side where she watched as Walter and his two dogs shifted some cattle from one pen to another, the big animals moving grudgingly in front of him. Every now and then one would shake its head at one of the dogs, who would then crouch and stare, as if just daring the cow to do something. The cows always moved on.
“Hello,” she called once he closed the gate. About twenty eyes turned her way, bovine, canine and human.
“Good morning,” Walter said gruffly.
“I was wondering if you had a chance to call the power company.”
“I left a message. Probably hear back once the office opens.”
“Surely they have an emergency number.”
“I think that’s for emergencies,” he said.
Ellie instantly started to ask just what he considered to be an emergency, but stopped herself before displaying what Walt would no doubt interpret as weakness. Montana mornings were cold, even in July, and she would have loved to have turned on some heat to take the chill off the house. She wouldn’t have minded being able to make some tea and to microwave some oatmeal. But neither of those was possible without power.
“Is there anything else?” he asked, indicating with a movement of his head that he had work to do.
“Yes. Who’s on the tractor?” Ellie asked, even though she knew.
“Lonnie. He’s a neighbor kid.”
“He works for the ranch?”
“Sometimes. When we need him.”
“Why—”
Ellie’s words were cut off by a commotion in the corrals and Walt instantly started off, calling, “Hey now!” at his dogs, who were facing off, growling. One lunged at the other. He separated the battling animals. “Would it be all right if we talked later?” he asked on a note of supreme exasperation as he held a dog by the collar in each hand. “I’ve got work to do.” Then he abruptly let go of the dogs, turned and started off across the corral without waiting for a reply. The dogs followed side by side, casting each other dark glances.
“You know,” Ellie called, “it wouldn’t kill you to be civil.”
Walt stopped and slowly turned back to face her. “I am being civil. I just don’t have time to wipe your nose whenever you need it.” A tool clattered to the ground from where Francisco was working inside the barn as the last words came out of the old man’s mouth.
At that moment all Ellie could think was that her mother had trained her well. Even though she felt as if she’d been smacked, she managed to raise an eyebrow, as if to say “Really?” and hold the man’s challenging gaze until he finally gave a small harrumph and started back ac
ross the corral, a dog on either side of him.
Dismissed again. This guy was doing himself no favors and Ellie wondered if he even cared. Wipe her nose, indeed!
She hadn’t gotten close enough to smell whether or not he’d been drinking, but from the surly way he was behaving, she had no problem believing he was battling a hangover.
Milo and Angela would never put up with this type of behavior, no matter how talented this guy was in the ranching arena—and she didn’t yet know if he even had any talents. George Monroe was supposed to supply that information, and right now she couldn’t wait for him to get there.
* * *
RYAN LOOSELY ROLLED his bedroll and stowed it on the shelf formed by the nose of the gooseneck trailer. He was up in the first round of ropers, and after his run he’d push on to Shelby. He’d gotten to Wolf Point in a decent amount of time last night, but hadn’t been able to sleep for the life of him. He was worried about Walt. The old man had made it through the week that the Bradworths had stayed shortly after buying the place because he’d been in a numb haze. Grateful to have sold and gotten out from the pile of debt that threatened to put the place on the block for lack of payment of taxes, sickened that he’d lost the family heritage, even if he had no one to pass it on to. But now that the stress of constant debt was gone, he was more sickened than grateful. Ryan understood. Walt felt powerless on the place he’d lived for his entire life. And he felt rebellious. That was the part that concerned Ryan.
Things will be fine. There was no reason they shouldn’t be.
He stepped out of the trailer, fed PJ, who was standing, one leg cocked, in the small travel corral, and then went to fill a bucket of water. After the horse was taken care of, he checked in with the rodeo office and then walked over to the concession area to buy a breakfast burrito.
“Hey, Madison.” Tommy Walking Dog came to stand behind him in line. “What’s the good word?”
“Hopefully that I’ll drive home richer than when I drove in.”
“Should be a little easier without Montoya in the lineup, but you still have me to contend with.”
Ryan just smiled and turned toward the window as the guy in front of him collected his change and coffee. It would be easier without Matt there. Ryan wasn’t all that familiar with easy, though. Very little in life had come easily, and he appreciated things more because of it. He hadn’t always thought that way, but his mom had finally managed to hammer that message home by repeating it over and over again—what comes easy is taken for granted.
So had Matt taken what he’d had for granted? Ryan had learned via the high school rodeo grapevine that Charles had simply handed him the keys to the big fancy rigs he’d driven and financed the expensive horses he rode. Ryan had hated being jealous, but the truth was that he’d been jealous as hell. Had Matt been appreciative of what had come easily?
Did any of that matter now that Matt’s leg had been crushed and his career was over? Ryan felt the oddest urge to seek him out and ask, but what purpose would that serve?
Maybe he could get to know his brother?
His gut told him it was too late for that.
“Breakfast burrito,” he said to the perky little girl behind the counter. “And coffee. I’ll get the guy behind me, too.”
“Hey, thanks,” Tommy said with a wide smile. “But I’m still going to beat you.”
“You can try,” Ryan said as the girl set the coffee on the counter. “But I won’t make it easy.”
* * *
ELLIE HAD EXPERIENCED power blackouts before, but usually for a matter of a few hours. The storms that had ravaged the East Coast over the past few years had knocked out power for days at a time in places, but she’d been lucky and the power in her area had always come back on within hours of going out.
She didn’t trust Walt, so had called the power company herself shortly after their discussion at the corrals that morning, only to discover that they were dealing with wind damage all over the place and would get to her as soon as they could. Soon had ended up being seven hours after her call, when a big truck rolled in, a guy in a blue hard hat jumped out and half an hour later her fridge started humming and all the lights flickered back on.
Ellie had thanked him, then celebrated the perks of civilization by turning up the electric heat, making tea and toast and then stripping down for a hot shower. For a long time she simply stood in the gloriously warm water, letting it take the chill out of her bones, then reached for the shampoo. Being without power wasn’t that bad, if one was prepared. Next time she would be prepared. Flashlights. Candles. Kindling. Firewood for the fireplace. If she were properly set up, she could handle eating cold food and not having a computer.
But what she couldn’t handle was having the shower slow to a trickle just after she’d lathered her hair...as it was doing right now. Ellie desperately tried to work the suds out of her hair as the last of the water dripped out of the spigot. She was not successful.
Cursing under her breath, she opened the shower door and reached for a towel. Suds dripped down her neck.
What now? Was this someone trying to tell her that running away from her problems was not going to work? That she would encounter problems wherever she went?
“I get the message,” she muttered. In the meantime, suds, hair. Problem.
Knowing it was futile, she twisted on the kitchen faucet. Not a drop. Where had the water gone? And what was she supposed to do now? Towel the suds out of her hair?
The pond.
There was water there. Maybe not the best water, but if she boiled it or strained it or whatever was necessary, then she could use it. Anything was preferable to letting soap harden in her hair. So with the towel wrapped around her head, Ellie headed out the door with a large pan. There were probably buckets in the barn, but the pan would do. Watching for the snake, she trod down the flagstone walk, then walked past the barn and Ryan’s house to where the path led through the tall grass to the pond. Ducks lifted off the water as she approached. Great. She was about to rinse her hair with duck water. But when she got closer to the pond, she heard the sound of running water and changed course.
A small stream flowed over colorful rocks on its way to the pond, the water crystal clear. Ellie bent and tilted the pan under the flow, collecting as much water as she could. It wasn’t enough to do the job and she wasn’t going to traipse back and forth to the house. She could go get another pan or... She pulled off the towel, leaned forward to protect her clothing and poured the water over her head. Every pore on her head went into shock as the icy water hit it. Damn. Was there an iceberg farther upstream?
Gritting her teeth, Ellie collected another partial pan and repeated the process. This time it didn’t hurt as much. A third time and she called it good, wrapping the towel around her throbbing scalp. A shiver ran through her body, but she bent again and collected as much water as she could before heading back to the house. Who knew when she might have water again, the way Walt took care of the place?
Marching back to the house carrying the pan with two hands, the towel bobbing and slipping lower over one eye with each step, she rounded the corner of the barn and came face-to-face with Lonnie.
Both took a step back.
“Are you...all right?” Lonnie asked as the towel fell farther forward. She couldn’t do anything about it without putting down the pan, and she wasn’t doing that. All she wanted to do was to get back to the house. Water dripped down the back of her neck.
“I have no water in the house,” she said.
“You want me to tell Walt on my way home?” the boy asked.
“Would you?” Ellie asked with exaggerated politeness.
“Sure thing,” Lonnie answered earnestly.
“Have you found the snake yet?”
“No. I’ve looked, but so far...” He spread his hands.
Really? Was this how her life was going to be from now on? Was her stint as golden girl over forever? Ellie pressed her palm against her forehead. She’d liked being the golden girl. It made up for a lot of missed childhood.
* * *
TOMMY WALKING DOG had beat him. Twice. The Wolf Point rodeo had gone okay. He’d placed second behind Tommy, which at least gave him some earnings. The second rodeo, the one he’d hoped to win... He didn’t want to think about. All those miles, all that gas, for nothing. As the announcer had said, even good cowboys had bad days, but Ryan couldn’t afford bad days, literally or figuratively.
Too much on his mind. But, as he’d argued with himself more than once on the long drive home, he’d always been able to focus, to shove trouble out of his brain and catch the damn calf.
Maybe he was just getting old.
It was going on midnight when he approached Glennan, but he turned off the highway and drove down the narrow street to his mother’s house, as he always did after a rodeo. She expected it. There was no curb, so he was able to pull the truck and trailer well off the road. His mother’s lights were on and so was the porch light as soon as he got out of the truck.
“I won’t be long,” he said to PJ, who shifted restlessly in the trailer.
“I got some supper for you,” his mother called out the door before he’d taken more than two steps up the walk. “You want me to pack it to go, or eat it here?”
“Both.” He hadn’t eaten after his run and he was starving.
“Sorry to hear about your times,” Lydia said, holding the door open.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling his ball cap off as he walked past her into the house. “One of those weekends.” The house smelled of pot roast and potpourri. They hadn’t had a lot of money while he was growing up, but Lydia had always made the house seem like home, doing what she could with what she had. Pretty much that meant good food and a lot of what she’d called shabby chic.