Her Man on Three Rivers Ranch

by Stella Bagwell

  “That’s true,” Joseph replied. “But I don’t think so. I think he met someone here in the gulch or at the well pump. It’s only about twenty yards from here.”

  Joseph had worked as a deputy sheriff for Yavapai County for more than ten years and his mind operated in a different way than Blake’s.

  Straightening away from the gravel bed where he’d been searching, Blake tugged his straw cowboy hat lower over his forehead. Midafternoon in Arizona was usually hot at this time of year and today was no exception. Even with his eyes shaded by a pair of dark aviator glasses and the brim of his cowboy hat, the brightness of the sun caused him to squint as he looked across the rocky slope to where his brother stood.

  “It’s been five years, Joe. Maybe it’s time we gave up.”

  Joseph stared at him for a long, awkward moment, then walked over to him. “I can’t believe you’re saying that. What the hell is wrong with you? Everybody knows Major Bob didn’t spook or buck. You could set off a firecracker under that horse and he’d just stand there with a sleepy look on his face. You and I both know someone killed Dad and tried to make it look like an accident.”

  “Yeah,” Blake mumbled. “But after all these years, Joe, how can we ever find enough evidence for the law to make an arrest?”

  “We found the rowel. We know Dad was here on this part of the ranch even though he’d told the ranch hands that day he’d be riding a good five miles west of the ranch house. If we can find the reason why he wound up here instead, we’ll figure things out.” Joseph reached for Blake’s shoulder and gave it an encouraging shake. “Come on, brother. You’ve always stuck with me on this. Don’t start losing faith now.”

  Blake tried to smile—something he admittedly didn’t do very often. It wasn’t that he was a grouch or a negative person. It was just that smiling and laughing felt awkward to him. His family often called him the judge. They didn’t understand that ever since Joel had died, the heavy weight of running this seven-hundred-thousand-acre ranch had landed squarely on his shoulders. Not only did the family’s financial security depend on Three Rivers’s solvency, but there was also the family legacy to continue. Hollisters of past generations had first built Three Rivers back in 1847. It was Blake’s job to see the ranch remained sound well into the next generation. With that kind of responsibility, he didn’t have much urge to laugh or smile.

  “I’m not losing faith, Joe. I only wish some sort of definite clue would turn up. And I—” He paused, his gaze scanning the rocky terrain dotted with thorny chaparral, chollas and the occasional mesquite tree. “When I look around this place, I start imagining Dad and what he must have gone through that day. I wonder if he was fighting for his life. Or did someone ambush him from behind and he never knew what hit him? The questions stab me right in the heart.”

  “I feel the same way, Blake. Everyone in the family wonders about those things. Especially Mom.”

  Blake released a heavy breath. “She rarely mentions Dad’s death. She only talks about the good memories.”

  “That’s because those times are the most important thing to her. The wonderful years Dad was alive and with us,” Joseph replied. “Not the way he died.”

  Amazed at Joseph’s calm, perceptive attitude, Blake turned his gaze back to his brother. For years Joseph had been driven to find the answers to their father’s death. As a deputy, he’d used every spare hour he could find to pore over the case that the late Sheriff Maddox had ruled an accident. But now that Joseph had fallen in love with Tessa and made her his wife, his priorities, even his attitude, had definitely changed. Instead of being driven, he took things in stride. Instead of going around with a scowl on his face, his expression was one of composed strength.

  It was hard for Blake to believe that love and a coming baby had made such a change in his brother, but the evidence was standing right in front of him. And the reality left Blake more than envious.

  “Yeah. The most important,” Blake muttered.

  Joseph gently slapped a hand against the middle of Blake’s back. “Come on. Let’s head back. It’s my day off and I promised to meet Tessa in town. She’s still buying things for the nursery. I don’t know how much more stuff she’s going to squeeze into that room. Our little one isn’t going to need clothing for at least two years. She’s already bought our child a pair of cowboy boots.”

  Blake’s lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “Guess she’s planning on the kid being a rancher. God help the little tyke.”

  The two men began to climb up the steep bank of the gorge.

  “Why do you say it like that?” Joseph asked. “You, of all people.”

  Blake didn’t bother to answer until he and his brother were both out of the gorge and walking toward a work truck parked a few feet away.

  “Ranching is not an easy profession,” he reasoned. “Some people think we just buy a herd of cows, then they eat grass and have babies and that’s all there is to it. Easy, right?”

  Joseph glanced over at him. “Some people think all you have to do to be a deputy is pin a badge on your chest. But we both know that nothing worthwhile is easy.”

  “Does that include being a husband?” Blake asked.

  “Sure,” Joseph joked. “I’ll say it’s as hard as hell and you’ll run and tell Tessa.”

  The two men climbed into the cab of a white ton truck with the 3R brand displayed on both doors. As Blake settled himself behind the wheel and started the engine, he said, “I wouldn’t repeat such a thing to my sweet sister-in-law. I was just curious. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve never been a husband before.”

  Blake put the truck in motion, and as he steered it in the direction of the ranch house, he could feel Joseph’s keen gaze boring into the side of his face.

  “You really are curious, aren’t you?” Joseph asked.

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? You never bother to look at a woman, much less date one. Not after Lenore.”

  Scowling, Blake jerked the wheel to avoid a boulder. “Hell, Joe, did you have to bring her up? Besides, it’s not like I’m over-the-hill and washed-up. I’m only thirty-eight. I still have time to hook up with a woman.”

  “How’s that going to happen? You rarely step off Three Rivers.”

  “You might be surprised, little brother,” Blake said coyly. “I might’ve already met one.”

  As the truck bounced over the rough terrain, Blake glanced over to see Joseph gaping at him.

  “Floorboard this damn truck,” Joseph told him, his voice taking on a note of excitement. “We need to get back to the ranch and knock a board off the barn!”

  Rolling his eyes, Blake said, “Let’s not take the celebrating to that extent. But I did have coffee with a woman a couple of days ago. A mighty pretty one, too.”

  Joseph squared around in the seat. “Did you dip into Mom’s peach wine before we headed out here?”

  “What kind of question is that? Don’t you think I might know a girl? A pretty one?”

  “Well, yes. I just never figured—Who is she?”

  Right now she was little more than a nice, sweet memory. One that Blake couldn’t get out of his head. “Do you remember Paulette Anderson? Years ago, she used to do sewing and mending for Mom.”

  “Sure. I remember. Nice lady. In spite of being married to that good-for-nothing Avery. I had to arrest him once. Drunk as a skunk. Driving all over the road. It’s a miracle he hadn’t killed himself or someone else. I’m pretty sure he lost his driver’s license after that.”

  My brother, Aaron, wouldn’t offer to help. When I came back—to help Dad—I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing.

  Katherine’s remarks about her father suddenly traveled through Blake’s thoughts. Without knowing much about her family life, he’d not fully understood what she’d meant. He’d figured her parents’ divorce had caused a rift with her fa
ther, but she’d decided to put it all behind her.

  Frowning thoughtfully, he said, “So you’re telling me that Avery Anderson was an alcoholic. I didn’t know.”

  “I thought everybody around here knew that.” Joseph shook his head. “What do the Andersons have to do with you having coffee with a woman, anyway?”

  “She’s their daughter. Katherine. Her name is O’Dell now. Did you know she’d returned to Wickenburg?”

  “No. Guess she came back to bury the old man and settle his estate. Which couldn’t have been much.”

  Blake inwardly winced at his brother’s remark. He understood Joseph wasn’t being snobbish. He was simply speaking the truth. The Andersons had lived in a very modest house on the outskirts of town. They’d never had much in the way of material things. But until this moment, Blake hadn’t been aware that Katherine’s father had cared more about a bottle of booze than he had his family. How had she found it in her heart to care for him during his failing health? Blake doubted he could ever be that forgiving or compassionate.

  Blake pulled his thoughts back to the present. “Katherine lives here now. She’s a widow. With a son.”

  Long moments passed in silence and Blake wondered if his brother was trying to come up with a nice way of telling him to steer clear of Katherine O’Dell.

  Eventually, Joseph asked, “You say she’s pretty?”

  For once, Blake didn’t have any trouble putting a smile on his face. “Very.”

  “Then you’d better ask her out.”

  “I already have,” Blake said flatly. “She hedged on giving me an answer.”

  Joseph looked at him. “You’re not going to let that stop you, are you?”

  “I’m not going to let anything stop me.”

  * * *

  Later that evening in a small fenced yard behind Katherine’s house, she tossed a baseball with a gentle underhanded pitch to her son, then smacked the worn glove on her left hand.

  “Okay. Let it rip. I’m ready,” she called to Nick.

  Nick groaned with frustration. “Aww, Mom, that’s not the way to throw a pitch. You gotta go like this. And put some steam behind it!”

  He went through the exaggerated windup of a major-league pitcher and then threw a hard bull’s-eye that nearly knocked the glove off Katherine’s hand.

  Somehow she managed to make the catch, but her fingers stung from the force of the ball. “Nick! I am not about to throw the ball that hard. I might accidently hurt you. It’s underhanded or not at all,” she warned. “Take your pick.”

  Nick groaned. “Oh, Mom, I’m not a baby. I can catch a fastball.”

  “Maybe you can, but I’m not going to throw you one. You have to play by my rules.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled with disappointment. “I’ll follow your rules. Let’s play.”

  Katherine tossed the ball back to him while thinking how much better things would be for her son if he had a father. Not just a guy in the background, like Cliff, who’d worked too many hours to ever notice he had a son, much less spend time teaching him about sports. Nick deserved to have a father who would give him special love and attention. But finding a man who’d give that much to a stepchild seemed next to impossible.

  By the time dusk began to fall and the backyard darkened with shadows, Nick had grown tired of the simple game of pitch and announced he was hungry.

  Katherine pulled off the glove and handed it, along with the stained baseball, to her son. “Put your things away and wash up. I already have something fixed, so we’ll eat in a few minutes.”

  “Okay, Mom. And thanks for playing catch with me.”

  At ten years old, he was tall for his age, with long lanky limbs and feet that were growing just as quickly as his height. His thick hair was nearly as dark as hers and his eyes close to the same gray. People often remarked that Nick favored his mother, and Katherine had to admit that when she looked at her son, she saw nothing of Cliff O’Dell. And considering the way that things had worked out for her and her late husband, she supposed it was a blessing that Nick didn’t resemble his father.

  Slinging her arm affectionately around Nick’s shoulders, she guided him toward the back door of the house. “You’re very welcome.”

  “Mom, do you think I might go to baseball camp this summer? Jimmy Bainter’s dad is going to be the instructor. You know, he played in the minor leagues once. Back before he got so old.”

  “Old? I’ve seen Jimmy’s dad before. He doesn’t look old.” Katherine opened the door and ushered her son inside a small mudroom.

  “Oh, shoot, Mom, that guy is probably forty!”

  Trying not to laugh, Katherine nudged her son on toward the kitchen. “Go on and wash up.”

  “But what about the baseball camp? Can I go? Jimmy and Shawn have already signed up. And it’s going to be over at the park. Every day for two whole weeks!”

  “May you go,” she said, correcting him. “And maybe. I’ll check into it.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Grinning as though he was already certain she’d conceded, he hugged her waist, then rushed from the room.

  Katherine washed her hands at a deep double sink, before entering the kitchen to get the evening meal ready. As she walked toward the refrigerator to pull out a casserole dish filled with lasagna, she decided to detour to the cabinet counter to check her phone. Normally, she didn’t get many calls, but she did receive a few texts from coworkers.

  Seeing a notification that she’d missed a call, she punched a button to see the caller identity and immediately let out a small gasp.

  Blake! Blake Hollister had called her!

  Yes, she’d given him her phone number the morning they’d had coffee, but she’d never expected him to use it. In fact, once she’d walked away from him in front of the bank, she’d pretty much decided she’d never hear from the man again.

  What was she going to do now? She’d missed his call and he’d not left a voice mail.

  The smart thing to do, Katherine, would be to put down the phone and forget the man. So what if he did call you? So what if he did take you out on a date? That’s as far as things would ever get with a man like him. You’d only be wasting your time.

  Disgusted with the cynical voice going off in her head, she placed the phone on the far end of the cabinet and went about getting the lasagna heated for their supper.

  By the time she and Nick had eaten the meal and finished it off with chocolate ice cream for dessert, she’d decided to forget about Blake’s call. If he’d wanted to talk to her that badly, he would have left a message. Besides, she had plenty of other things to think about. Like vacuuming the living floor and putting a load of towels in the washer.

  “Mom, can I watch one of your Tarzan movies?” Nick asked as he helped her carry the dirty dishes to the sink. “I want to see the one with the elephant stampede. You know, the one where the bad guys are trying to get ivory from the sacred elephant graveyard.”

  Katherine smiled to herself. She’d always loved the Tarzan movies made back in the 1930s and 1940s, yet the first time Nick had watched one with her, he’d promptly described the whole thing as dorky.

  “I thought my Tarzan movies were too cheesy for you,” Katherine said as she began to scrape food scraps into the garbage disposal.

  “I guess I got to liking them. The animals are neat and so is Boy.”

  Smiling, she glanced at him. “You think it would be fun to live in a tree house?”

  “Yeah. But only for a few days. There wouldn’t be any TV.”

  Since she made sure to limit her son’s time in front of the TV, he appreciated the chance to enjoy his favorite programs. “Oh, well, that would be awful. You’d have to get a stick and draw pictures in the dirt for entertainment.”

  A bewildered look came over her son’s face. “Mom, are you feeling sick or something?”


  Katherine chuckled. “No. Just feeling my age. And you have my permission to watch the movie. Just make sure you put the DVD back into its case when you’re finished.”

  “Thanks, Mom!”

  Nick hurried out of the kitchen and Katherine finished washing and drying the last of the dishes. She was hanging the dishtowel on a rack when her phone rang. The sound caused her to jump as though a firecracker had exploded beneath the table.

  Could Blake be calling again? The number illuminated on the face of the phone wasn’t familiar, but the prefix was local.

  Bracing herself, Katherine snatched up the phone and accepted the call with a simple hello.

  “Katherine, this is Blake. Do you have a moment to talk?”

  His low, masculine voice caused goose bumps to erupt along the backs of her arms and suddenly her heart was pounding so hard and fast, she felt dizzy. “Uh, yes, I can talk. How are you, Blake?”

  “Fine, thanks. You sound surprised to hear from me.”

  Her legs shaking, she walked over to the kitchen table and eased into one of the wooden chairs. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

  After a pause, he said, “I was giving you time to think about our date.”

  She gulped and glanced over her shoulder. Thank goodness Nick was occupied with the movie. Having her son within earshot of her conversation would have made it even more difficult.

  “Our date?” She repeated the words in the form of a question. “We don’t have a date.”

  “We will. As soon as you say yes.”

  Katherine looked around her simple kitchen and wondered if she was dreaming. “I’m not sure that would be the right thing to do, Blake,” she said as politely as she could manage.

  “Why?” he asked. “You don’t like me?”

  She practically spluttered into the phone. Like him? What would he think if he knew she’d spent most of her teenage years mooning after him? Probably laugh himself silly, she thought. “Of course I like you. Very much. It’s just that I’m... Well, since Cliff died, I haven’t exactly put myself back in the dating scene. I’d probably be very boring company.”