“Sorry.” Cara held Kimberly, who wore a frilly dress that she and Raquel had bought specifically for the party. “I lost track of him for a second.”
The noticeable lack of panic in her face was accompanied by no trace of it in her voice. Josh relaxed. She’d come a long way this past month. They’d come a long way.
Her request, and Josh’s promise, to go slow had quickly fallen by the wayside. Whenever they weren’t working, they were together. As of last week, Cara had started spending nights with him. Josh hadn’t known it could be so incredible with a woman or so satisfying. The passion he’d seen in Cara and hoped to unlock was more exciting than he’d imagined.
He had no intentions of ever letting this woman go and had told her so their first night in his bed. She’d answered the same, making him feel like the luckiest guy in the world.
“Maybe we should take the kids outside for a bit,” he said. “Let Nathan blow off some steam.”
“Good idea.”
Josh had ulterior motives. He’d been wanting to get Cara alone from the start of the party, when he’d first spotted her in that snug-fitting dress and high heels. Quite a change from her usual jeans and boots.
Instead of the backyard, they ambled out front to the courtyard. The weather was perfect, a glorious Arizona spring day. Josh was surprised more people weren’t sitting on the twin benches, enjoying the sunshine. Then again, he had Cara to himself. Well, almost.
While Nathan darted from one end of the courtyard to the other, Cara held Kimberly’s hand. The girl stood at her side, babbling and pointing at her brother.
“This is nice,” Cara said.
Josh put an arm around her waist. It was too soon to talk about their own engagement party, but he thought it might be possible one day in the not-too-distant future. There were still decisions to be made and issues to resolve.
The spring calf sale hadn’t brought in as much money as they’d hoped, but the ranch finances were in okay shape for the next couple of months. Trista was doing well at the halfway home, and Josh would soon be taking the kids to see her as promised. He wondered how that would go. Nathan hadn’t asked about his mother for weeks.
Whatever problems they faced, he was confident he and Cara had what it took to see them through. They’d both weathered marital blows and were committed to putting everything necessary into their relationship.
“Josh!” Cara jerked. “Look.”
For a moment, he shot back to the day Nathan had fallen in the round pen and cut his forehead. The tension coursing through Cara transmitted to him like an electrical current.
“What?” He glanced around. Nathan played happily by the rock garden. “He’s fine.”
“No, silly. Kimberly.”
Josh looked down...and watched his daughter take her first solo steps, tottering unsteadily toward her brother.
“She’s walking,” Cara exclaimed.
With each step, Kimberly gained confidence. She’d be running soon. In a matter of days.
“Well, I’ll be.” He held Cara tighter and kissed the top of her head.
He felt a lot like his little daughter. He and Cara might have started off wobbly, but they were strong now, and growing stronger by the day. It gave Josh a sense of contentment to think his father would approve of them.
“I love you, Cara.”
She peered at him, emotion glinting in her eyes. “I love you, too.”
They stood for some time, gazing at each other and the distant pasturelands and hills rising in the distance. Josh didn’t see just the ranch and the hard work that lay ahead. He saw the future, with the woman who meant the world to him and the children they would raise.
The next generation of Dempseys. It wasn’t only his late father’s wish. Somewhere along the way, it had become Josh’s, too.
* * * * *
Watch for the next book in Cathy McDavid’s
MUSTANG VALLEY miniseries,
HAVING THE RANCHER’S BABY,
coming June 2016, only from
Harlequin American Romance!
Keep reading for an excerpt from HIS RANCH OR HERS by Roz Denny Fox.
His Ranch or Hers
by Roz Denny Fox
Chapter One
Myra Odell parked the tractor in the implement barn and went out to the fenced acres of grass. Recent rains had greened the pasture nicely. Good. Maybe tomorrow she’d bring the new crop of young animals down to ready them for market. Her neighbor Hank Watson had offered to truck them to the stockyard before winter storms hit northeastern Montana. With August close to the end, she’d still hoped for a few more weeks of decent weather. But all morning the sky had looked ominous. She’d gotten fairly good at predicting weather disruptions. She’d grown up in this country, and for most of her twenty-eight years she’d spent summers here on Flying Owl Ranch with her dad’s parents. Three summers ago she’d come to help out Gramps, who’s health had declined after her grandmother passed away the previous year.
Rather than return to teaching high school math in Great Falls that year, she’d stayed to run the ranch she loved. Her mom fussed about it, but truth be told Myra liked cattle ranching way more than teaching. Although after losing Gramps, the loneliness took some getting used to. Thankfully, she’d made friends with neighbors and some in the nearby town of Snowy Owl Crossing. And Gramps said she was a born rancher. Which was good because Myra saw herself spending the rest of her life right here.
Stepping down from the last rung of the split-rail fence, Myra checked her watch. She could feed the two saddle horses she kept for herding cattle before driving into town to grab staples in case the Farmer’s Almanac was right about them getting an early snow. She might drop in to see a couple of her girlfriends, especially Jewell Hyatt, to ask if she had any news from the state. Their committee had put in a request to designate some local land as a snowy-owl habitat.
A waterfowl preserve was already adjacent to a nearby lake, but snowy owls nested in tall fir trees too often being logged off. The birds weren’t yet endangered, but everyone in the area who loved watching them raise their young knew the owl population was shrinking. Quite a bit just since Myra had made her home here.
The horses whinnied a welcome. Both stuck their heads over their stall doors to see if she’d brought apples or a carrot in addition to their daily rations. Today she had neither, but they made do with muzzle rubs.
She left the barn and was heading toward Gramps’s aging Ford pickup when her cell phone rang. Myra dug her phone out of her jacket pocket and was surprised to see her dad’s number on the screen. She rarely heard directly from him as he tended to let her mom or her younger brother, Eric, touch base for the whole family. Her folks owned a much larger cattle ranch off the highway that ran between Miles City and Billings. Because it was rarer still that any of the busy Odells took time to phone during a weekday, worry knotted in Myra’s stomach as she swiped the bar to answer.
“Hello, Dad? Is everything all right at Rolling Acres?” Myra heard the tremor in her voice and took a deep breath to dispel her concerns.
“Everything is fine. I have good news. Lieutenant Maxwell is here.”
“You mean the guy who saved Eric’s life in Afghanistan? I didn’t know he was out of the hospital.”
“Zeke, that’s right. He’s out of the VA hospital after an extensive stay after he saved Eric’s life.”
“Doesn’t he live on the East Coast?”
“Yup, he was renting an apartment in Boston, where he grew up. Seems his folks have retired to some island.”
“Eric told me they’d kept in contact. I recall him saying the lieutenant had to have his left shoulder and elbow rebuilt. It sounded serious. I think Eric felt some guilt because the guy got hurt saving him and the others.”
“I don’t know that he felt
guilty. Certainly grateful. Your mother and I can’t thank him enough, either.”
“For sure. So what’s he doing in Montana?”
“That’s really what I called to tell you. Zeke’s friends and family have all left Boston for other opportunities. Eric thought he needed cheering up.”
“So you invited him to visit. That’s thoughtful of you guys.”
Myra’s father cleared his throat. “Actually, kiddo, your mom and I had this brilliant idea to gift him the Flying Owl. With Dad gone and you needing to get back to the job you went to college for, we dug out the deed. As co-owner on Dad’s trust, it was simple to have Don Jarvis draw up a new deed. I sent it off to Lieutenant Maxwell last month. At first we didn’t hear back and so weren’t sure he’d accept. Then yesterday he showed up to ask if it was legitimate. I assured him it is. Expensive as land is, nothing on earth can ever equal the worth of him saving Eric’s life.”
Myra’s ears started to buzz. She wasn’t sure she’d processed everything she thought she’d heard her dad say. Turning around, she sat heavily on the old truck’s running board. A sick feeling gripped her stomach and washed over her. “I...I love the Flying Owl. Wh...why didn’t you call and discuss this with me?”
“Now, honey, your mother and I know you felt obligated to stick around and help your gramps. We appreciate all you did to make his last years easier. He was a lost soul after Mom died, and I was tied down here. Like your mother keeps telling me, you’ve dedicated enough time in that out-of-the-way place. This way, you have a week or so before a new school year starts to look for teaching jobs. You deserve to get back to living and working in a city where you’ll meet young men and women your own age.”
Myra couldn’t force the plethora of objections past her constricted throat.
“Honey, did I lose you?”
“Uh, no,” she managed to rasp. She swallowed a bunch of times and swabbed at tears trickling from her eyes. She heard doors slamming in the background on her dad’s end, followed by loud male laughter. “Dad, you don’t understand—”
He cut her off. “Listen, hon, Eric and Zeke are back from riding ATVs around the ranch. Zeke’s joining us for supper, and he’ll spend the night. Tomorrow he’ll drive to the Flying Owl. That gives you this afternoon and evening to pack your stuff and take any mementos from the ranch you want. I figure he’ll arrive by noon. Maybe you’d be so kind as to give him a quick tour of the ranch. Afterward, come stay with us until you get a job offer. We haven’t seen enough of you,” he said, his tone gruff with emotion.
Myra remained at a loss for words. She loved her family. She didn’t doubt they loved her. Possibly she was partly to blame for this awful turn of events. After all, she’d never told them how much living here and running the ranch meant to her. “Sure. Bye, Dad,” she managed to whisper past a growing lump in her throat. She quickly disconnected and buried her face in her hands.
Numb, but not one to wallow in self-pity, she decided to get on with her earlier plan of going to town. If this wasn’t all a bad dream, she had friends to notify of the sudden, colossal change in her life.
As she drove the two-lane road toward Snowy Owl Crossing, gray clouds obscured the jagged tops of the mountain range she loved. With its rock-strewn mountains, patches of evergreen trees and gentle hills flattening into rich farm and ranch lands, this area had everything. She hurt to think of leaving it.
The town had a single major street lined with businesses. At one end sat a combination grocery store–post office, at the other, a very busy feed store. Myra remembered a time Main Street wasn’t paved, when she’d spent summers here as a young girl tagging after Gram and Gramps. Little else had changed about the weathered wood stores, except for a new generation of proprietors.
She parked near the coffee shop owned by the mother of one of her good friends, Lila Jenkins. Only a year older than Myra, Lila was already a widow with a nine-year-old son. Following her husband’s death, Lila had begun working part-time for her mom. She also owned a bed-and-breakfast that catered to fishermen, but she was struggling to keep it afloat.
Still discombobulated by her dad’s call, Myra hoped a strong cup of coffee would help snap her out of the pain gripping her.
As she entered the cheery, warm café, it surprised her to see a couple of her other friends seated at a back table. Jewell Hyatt, born and raised in Snowy Owl Crossing, now served as the area’s main veterinarian. Shelley Price was a few years older than the other women in the Artsy Ladies group. Her husband was a park ranger and she taught ceramics out of her home. Shelley made beautiful items for the November bazaar they all participated in to raise money for the snowy owls.
Lila emerged from the kitchen, saw Myra and smiled. But Myra’s heart sank. Saying goodbye, telling her friends she wouldn’t be able to finish her projects for the bazaar this year would be harder than she’d imagined.
Spotting her, Jewell stood and beckoned her to their table. “Gosh, Myra. Sit down. What’s wrong? You look... I don’t know, sad-eyed. Not exactly sick, but not well.”
Myra pulled out a chair just as Lila reached them. “Can I get you something? I made chocolate pie today. I know it’s your favorite.”
“Just coffee. But hurry back,” she said, sinking down on the chair across from Jewell. “I’ve got news. Bad news.” She shed her jacket as Lila dashed behind the counter to pour coffee for herself and Myra. As soon as her friend returned, Myra blurted out everything she’d learned from her dad’s call.
For an elongated moment her three friends looked stunned. Then Lila leaned over and hugged her. “Is there nothing you can do to change your father’s mind?”
Myra blinked away a sudden rush of tears. Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head.
Jewell reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s arm. “Let’s think a minute. You say your dad jointly owned the ranch with your grandfather. So as awful as it seems, I guess he has a right to give the property away. Too bad you can’t just run this new guy off.”
Lila glanced at the others. “Dare she even try running off a former Green Beret? They’re tough. Plus, he saved her brother. That makes the guy a hero, right?”
Myra paused before drinking from her steaming mug. “How would I even run him off?”
Jewell clasped her own cup. “Maybe you won’t have to run him off. Didn’t you say he’s from Boston? Managing a cattle ranch isn’t like doing a bunch of sit-ups. Even if he led a squad or a platoon or whatever they call it, I don’t think that compares to keeping a herd of cattle alive during a Montana winter. What’s to say he’ll stick it out?”
Shelley, who’d been quietly sipping her tea, smiled. “That’s brilliant, Jewell. Myra, why not volunteer to stay on and help this dude like you did your grandpa? Only, you let him do all the dirty, messy chores. Get my drift?”
Myra brightened then frowned. “The folks want me to stay with them while I apply for teaching jobs. They’d probably veto any notion of me sharing a house with a stranger. Even if he did save Eric’s life.”
Lila leaned forward to stare at Myra. “You’re an adult woman. I work part-time for my mother, but she has no say over my private life.”
The others all nodded and Myra blew out a noisy breath. “You make good points. But my parents paid for my education. I never talk to Mom that she doesn’t work in how I’m wasting my time tucked away here. She likes living nearer Billings where she has access to big stores and such. City amenities we don’t have.”
“But that’s not you,” Jewell stressed. “It’s your life. And you know we’ll all be disappointed if you leave.”
“Not as disappointed as me,” Myra admitted, thinking it over. “I usually hire help with haying and branding and such. High school kids from neighboring towns or the reservation. The Flying Owl doesn’t have a bunkhouse, so Gramps never kept full-time hired hands. I su
ppose if I didn’t take anyone on this winter, this Lieutenant Maxwell would have to do all the worst chores himself.”
“That’s right,” Jewell said with a smile.
“But I don’t know much about him. Eric spent a year under his command. They kept in touch after they both left the service. I can phone my brother and ask if it’s safe for me to live under the same roof at least long enough to see he doesn’t ruin Gramps’s ranch.” She perked up the more she talked.
“Now you’re sounding like the Myra we all love,” Jewell said, grinning. She lifted her coffee mug and all the women did the same, touching their rims in solidarity.
Myra set money on the table for her coffee. “I need to get to Hadley’s store before it closes to stock up on a few things. Zeke Maxwell is due in sometime tomorrow morning. I’ll see how our meeting goes. Then I’ll phone one of you.”
“Zeke? Is that short for something?”
Myra shook her head as she shrugged into her jacket. “Dunno. Eric’s mentioned he has a twin brother, who travels the world hunting gems. And I think their parents retired to the Caribbean. I know he bunged up a shoulder and elbow saving Eric and other men while under enemy fire. And for that my dad gave him the Flying Owl.” She made a face.
Shelley patted Myra’s hand. “Tonight I’ll burn a candle with the hope he sees right away that he doesn’t fit in. The hard work and isolation in Snowy Owl Crossing might well be too much for him.”
“Thanks, everyone. I’d best get moving. I probably still should gather the family albums and put them in a box. And drag out my suitcases. I can’t make this visit goodbye. However things shake out, I’ll come see you all again.” She left then before the tears that sprang to her eyes could fall.
* * *
THICK CLOUDS THAT had blanketed the mountaintops for most of the previous day had blown in overnight. By 10:00 a.m. stinging snow had dusted and showed little sign of letting up.
If it continued for long, Myra knew she’d need to haul hay out to the herd. But she wanted to wait for the new owner to put in an appearance. Boy, that title almost gagged her. She had phoned Eric last night. When she’d asked if his former lieutenant suffered from any post-traumatic stress problems, he’d laughed and said Zeke was a solidly good guy through and through. Her brother asked why she wanted to know, but she hadn’t told him. Really, she hadn’t made up her mind. She’d yet to search online for teaching jobs. She felt qualified to hire on as a ranch hand, too. But with the flat economy, not a lot of ranches were advertising. At least none in the immediate area. She had checked on that.
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