by Linda Ford
Falling for the enermy
Newly returned Duke Caldwell is the son of her family’s enemy—and everyone knows a Caldwell can’t be trusted. Yet when Duke is thrown from his horse, Rose Bell puts her misgivings aside to help care for the handsome rancher. And soon there’s no denying that her childhood nemesis isn’t the scoundrel she thinks he is.
Duke keeps telling himself that his reasons for wanting to spend time with feisty Rose have to do only with ending their families’ feud—and not with how captivating he finds her. But though Rose might be willing to mend fences with the enemy, could she ever believe Duke worthy of her love?
Montana Marriages: Three sisters discover a legacy of love beneath the Western sky
“You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead.”
“I can feel it clear to my toes.” Duke watched emotions flit across Rose’s face as she leaned closer to look at his head. First, concern, and then worry. Worry? Rose Bell worried about Duke Caldwell? It didn’t seem possible.
Her gaze returned to his and he caught a flash of something else he almost believed to be tenderness. For him? Hardly. The Bells were known for helping the sick and injured. That was all it was.
A tiny grin tugged at her lips and amusement filled her eyes. “Your handsome face will be forever marred.”
“I can live with that.”
“You’re fortunate to be alive.” Her eyes snapped in anger. “Why are you riding a wild horse around the country? Don’t you know you might have been killed?”
“Seems you should be happy about that. You haven’t exactly thrown out the welcome mat to me.”
Her expression slowly hardened, grew impassive.
He missed being able to read her emotions.
She sat back and pulled her hands to her lap. “That doesn’t mean I want to see you dead.”
“Good to know.”
Linda Ford lives on a ranch in Alberta, Canada, near enough to the Rocky Mountains that she can enjoy them on a daily basis. She and her husband raised fourteen children—four homemade, ten adopted. She currently shares her home and life with her husband, a grown son, a live-in paraplegic client and a continual (and welcome) stream of kids, kids-in-law, grandkids, and assorted friends and relatives.
Books by Linda Ford
Love Inspired Historical
Montana Marriages
Big Sky Cowboy
Big Sky Daddy
Big Sky Homecoming
Cowboys of Eden Valley
The Cowboy’s Surprise Bride
The Cowboy’s Unexpected Family
The Cowboy’s Convenient Proposal
Claiming the Cowboy’s Heart
Winning Over the Wrangler
Falling for the Rancher Father
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles
BIG SKY HOMECOMING
Linda Ford
I will praise thee;
for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
—Psalms 139:14
To mothers everywhere who bind the family together around the kitchen table with their meals, their treats, their advice and their love.
May your children arise and call you blessed for you turn houses into homes. God bless.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt
Chapter One
Bar Crossing, Montana
January 1890
Rose Bell pushed back a scream of frustration. Even so, she spoke with more anger than sorrow. “The poor creatures. Pa, let me off here. You take Ma to the house and I’ll take care of these animals.” The sheep had been turned out of their pen and one of the older ewes was mired in a snowbank next to the shed. The others milled around, uncertain as to whether they should enjoy their freedom or panic because there were no fences to keep them safe.
At least they wouldn’t drown in the river today. It was frozen over. That was a mercy.
She hopped down before the wagon stopped moving and raced toward the ewe. “Come on, girl.” She pulled and tugged and cooed but the sheep had been there long enough her wool had frozen to the snow, anchoring her firmly.
“Can I help?”
With a startled squeak she turned around to stare at Douglas Caldwell, the golden-haired son and heir of the Caldwell family.
Everyone else called him by his nickname, “Duke,” but she couldn’t bring herself to. It sounded friendly and neighborly and the Caldwells were anything but that. Pa had bought this bit of land eight years ago and turned it into a productive farm. But it happened to encroach on the boundaries of the Caldwell Ranch. They learned later that the filing clerk had made a mistake. Despite that, the land belonged to the Bells—clear and legal.
To this day Mr. Caldwell refused to accept the facts. He had tried every means he could think of to get them to leave. He’d offered money. He’d talked; at first kindly then threateningly. When none of that worked he’d had his cowboys harass the Bells and their animals. The garden had been trampled a number of times. Caldwell cows had eaten or destroyed portions of the oat crop. Just a few months ago, one of the lambs had drowned when the animals had mysteriously escaped their pasture and found their way to the river. But the worst thing they’d done to date was stampede the cows through the yard as the Bells harvested the garden. Pa had been injured. He still had sore ribs. She knew by the way he moved and the number of naps he took that he felt poorly.
The cowboys always managed to make their activities look like accidents, so the sheriff couldn’t do anything.
It was on the tip of Rose’s tongue to tell young Mr. Caldwell she didn’t need his help but he’d already dismounted and come to her side. “It’s going to take a good pull to get her out of that.”
“I know.”
He grinned down at her. “Hello, Rose. How have you been?”
She pushed her hair back under her knit hat.
His gaze followed the movement of her hands. She half expected him to say something about her red hair as he’d done when they were in early grades at school. Instead his blue eyes darkened and he swallowed hard.
As if he liked what he saw.
She pressed her lips tight. The cold must be affecting her brain. Except she wasn’t cold. She’d worked up plenty of heat struggling with the ewe.
Surely she only imagined his look. She stole a glance at him. He still looked at what little of her hair showed from beneath her hat. He still had a bemused look about him.
Remembering his question, she said, “I’ve been just fine, Mr. Caldwell. Did Philadelphia survive your visit?”
He’d been gone a year, visiting his grandparents, and had returned a couple of weeks ago. In time to spend Christmas with his family.
“Philadelphia won’t even notice I’ve left.”
Odd way to put it. She hadn�
�t given it much mind but if she had, she would have expected him to sound regretful at having to leave the city. No, she hadn’t given it much mind, she silently mocked herself. Only thought of it maybe once or twice a day. She’d half expected to see him every time she went to town and every Sunday at church and even when she was out riding. That’s what happened when two people grew up in the same community. You got accustomed to seeing each other even if you weren’t on friendly terms.
The young man who seemed to be his new sidekick hurried over to the ewe and fell to his knees at her side. “You poor thing.” He wrapped his arms around her neck.
“Billy, this is our neighbor, Rose Bell.” Duke spoke softly, which brought Rose’s attention back to him so fast her neck creaked. She preferred to think of Duke as brash. Hearing him speak so gently, so tenderly—
Good grief, she was losing her mind.
“Rose, this is Billy Taylor.”
Billy got to his feet. “Hi, Rose. Pretty name. Just like your hair.” Billy stared at her hair.
Rose resisted an urge to push it more tightly under her hat. She felt again Duke’s study and forced herself to look directly at the young man he’d introduced. “Nice meeting you, Billy.”
Billy’s grin was wide and eager. He pressed a hand to his mouth and looked embarrassed.
It was hard to gauge his age but she guessed him to be in his early twenties. He didn’t seem the kind of companion she’d expect Duke to pick. But then, what sort did she expect?
She couldn’t rightly say. She’d done her best to avoid Duke all her life—partly because he teased her about her red hair but even more because he was a Caldwell. It had proved difficult to ignore him. They’d attended the same school. He was only a year older so they’d often ended up working together on some project. They’d gone to the same church. They’d even gone to the same gatherings where he’d often managed to become her partner at games.
Mostly, she assured herself, to annoy her and to tease her about her red hair.
Duke stepped into the deep snow beside the ewe. “What do you think, Billy? How are we going to get her out of this?” The ewe bleated at his arrival.
“You won’t hurt her, will ya?” Billy’s face wrinkled with concern. She realized he had the mind of a child, which confused her even more.
“Not if I can help it.” Duke tried to lift the edges of the ewe’s fleece. “She’s froze in.” He stood to his knees in snow, tipped his hat back and scratched his forehead. “I don’t know anything about sheep. Can we pull her out?” He turned to Rose.
She realized she’d been staring at him and jerked her attention back to the sheep. What was wrong with her? She sucked in a steadying breath. The same thing that had been wrong with her the year before he’d left. She’d struggled with reconciling the teasing boy he’d been with the handsome young man he had turned into. He was even more handsome now. His blue eyes drilled into her thoughts and sent them skittering back and forth like the sheep around her. Some running, glad to be free, but then stopping, uncertain what they wanted to do with that freedom.
Now she was thinking like a stupid sheep. She closed the door to such foolishness. She, Rose Bell, age eighteen, was a levelheaded, practical sort of person. One who dealt calmly with challenges.
She moved closer to the ewe, which brought her closer to Duke. She stumbled in the deep snow and he caught her by the arm.
“Steady there.” His voice deepened.
Her cheeks burned and she knew they would be almost as red as her hair. He dropped her arm. A warm spot remained where it had been. She forced her attention to the bleating sheep. “She wouldn’t feel it if we pulled her wool free from the ice. Though she’ll likely be frightened.”
Billy tipped his head down to meet the ewe’s eyes. “We’re going to help you so don’t be scared. Okay?” He patted her head.
Just as Lilly would do.
Rose missed her twin sister so much. And her older sister, Cora, too. Not that she didn’t see them almost every Sunday. She even visited Lilly most Saturdays, as well. But Cora had married Wyatt in the fall and Lilly had married Caleb in December. Rose, alone, remained at home. Likely she’d stay with her ma and pa until they passed.
She was happy for her sisters in their newly wedded state but she didn’t figure she’d ever marry. Too many people cared about the background of the Bell sisters—or rather, their lack of background.
Ma and Pa Bell had found the three of them on the prairie when Cora was five and the twins only three. The girls could remember their papa riding away in a wagon with a promise to return, but two days and a night later, he had not. The Bells had taken the girls home and when no birth parents could be located, they’d adopted them. Not everyone approved. Not everyone thought the girls belonged in the community.
When she was about eight, Rose was in the store with her sisters and Ma. She had wandered down the aisles, fascinated by the display of the many colors of embroidery threads. Two women were in there, as well, and one had said to the other, “I wonder what the Bells have gotten themselves into. Taking in orphans like those girls. Who knows what sort of family they came from? I tell you, there’s something wrong with people who would abandon their children, and goodness knows how those traits are passed down to their offspring. Mark my words, you’ll see that mental weakness come to light soon enough.”
Then a teacher in school had made a point of calling the girls “adopted” at every opportunity. As if it marked them in a special—but not good—way.
All of that she could have overlooked if it hadn’t been for her unhappy experience with George Olsen. She’d thought him kind; a gentleman who’d eagerly accompanied her on walks about town.
But his mother had put an end to that. “We know nothing of their background. It’s important to think about that when you court a girl. You never know what kind of family you are getting involved with in Rose’s case. What kind of bloodlines does she carry? No, it’s better that you know what you’re getting into.” Mrs. Olsen had been unaware that Rose had seen and heard every word.
Rose had turned and fled. Her sisters and parents had persuaded her to tell them why she’d been so upset. Ma had hugged her and assured her the only background she needed was to know she was loved. “You are my sweet Red Rose. A young woman with determination in her veins. Rose, my dear, you will someday thank God for giving you your strong nature.”
After that, Rose had forsaken any idea of finding a beau. But she had not thanked God for her strong nature. Or her red hair.
Cora and Lilly had found men who were willing to overlook their lack of background.
Rose did not expect to be so fortunate.
Especially with someone the likes of Duke Caldwell...
She pressed her hand to her forehead. Where did such foolish thoughts come from?
Duke watched her with steady eyes filled with concern. “We can’t leave her here.”
He’d mistaken her despair for concern for the sheep, not concern for her own security. She knew where caring about a man would lead. Especially a Caldwell.
Not that she cared about Duke. Not in the least. Never had. Never would.
She started to pull the wool from the snow, strand by strand.
Billy murmured comfort to the sheep and Duke worked by Rose’s side, following her example. His hands were sure and gentle. He seemed not a bit put out to be helping a sheep even though he was a cattleman and they hated sheep. How many times had she overheard remarks in town? “Woolies destroy the grass. They eat it to the roots. It never grows back.”
She could have told the cowboys they were wrong, but knew there was no point. People believed what they chose to believe.
But Duke acted as though the ewe was no different than a cow or a horse. Or maybe he didn’t care what others thought of sheep.
It must b
e sweet to be so sure of oneself.
“This is Lilly’s first ewe. She calls her Mammy. Mammy will come when Lilly calls her.” She couldn’t stop talking. “But she won’t come when I call her. You wouldn’t think it would make a difference, would you?”
“I hear Lilly is married now.”
“And Cora, too. Cora and Wyatt and his brother, Lonny, are on Jack Henry’s ranch. You remember Jack Henry?”
“Yup.” He continued loosening wool and she continued her endless chatter.
“Lilly married Caleb. He has a little son, Teddy. They’re in town for now, though Caleb says he’ll be getting his own ranch come spring. Right now they want to be in town so Teddy can go to school. He couldn’t walk for a while.”
“That so?”
“It is.” And as suddenly as the burst of words had come, they ended. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.
They had Mammy’s wool loosened on one side and together they moved to the other.
A couple of minutes later Duke straightened and stuck his hands on his hips.
She grinned to herself and ducked her head. His stance should look powerful but with snow up to his knees it only looked as if he might lose his balance.
“What next?” he asked.
She waded out of the snowbank and turned to call, “Mammy, come, Mammy.”
Mammy bleated but made no effort to move.
Rose jammed her hands into fists. “Why will you come when Lilly calls you and refuse to come when I do?”
Billy hugged the sheep around her neck. “It’s okay. She’s not mad at you.” He backed up. “Come on, Mammy. You don’t want to stay here. The snow is cold.” As he backed toward Rose, Mammy followed.
“Good job. How did you do that?” Rose asked Billy, so pleased to see Mammy out of the snowbank she could have hugged the young man.
Duke chuckled. “Billy gets along well with animals.”
Billy beamed at Duke’s praise, then turned to Rose. “Where do you want her?”
She led him to the sheep pen and Mammy followed, bleating happily to be back inside.
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