by Jeannie Watt
* * *
AN UNEXPECTED SHIVER ran through Liv as she watched Matt Montoya turn his truck around and drive past the barn. Delayed reaction. She rubbed her hands over her upper arms. She would not let Matt have Beckett.
“Who was here?” Her father’s deep voice sounded from behind her. She’d hoped he’d sleep through Matt’s visit, and he had, so thank heavens for small favors.
“Matt Montoya.”
“Did he need a calculus lesson?”
Liv turned back to her father and smiled a little. Rarely did her father make jokes, and even less so now that he was not feeling well. He was tall and lean, his dark hair streaked with silver, and normally he held himself in an almost military posture. Right now, though, his shoulders were slightly hunched, as if he were in pain. Liv hated seeing him that way, hated that he was pretending he was merely recovering from the flu.
“My horse. He had questions about him.” Liv took one last look at the rooster tail of dust from Matt’s truck, then moved away from the window. “Seems he wasn’t in favor of Trena selling Beckett.”
“Good thing she did,” was all Tim said. “Did Matt give you any grief?”
Liv shook her head.
“Good thing,” Tim repeated as he sat in his leather recliner, a chair that had been in the house ever since Liv could remember. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes. Seeing her father in a chair during the day had shocked Liv when she’d first moved home from Billings a week and a half ago—almost as much as the fact that he hadn’t cut the hay on time. Not that he’d let her cut it for him. That would be admitting there was something wrong instead of pretending it was a conscious choice on his part.
She needed to get him to a doctor, but there was no forcing Tim Bailey to do anything he didn’t want to do. They both knew the ranch was a wreck, that it was due to health issues, but he resisted all of Liv’s efforts to discuss the matter. Finally she’d stopped trying—at least until she had more of a handle on the situation.
“I’m feeling better today,” he said, keying in to her thoughts. “Whatever this bug is, I’m finally getting the better of it.”
Liv didn’t believe him.
“You’re dressed for town,” Tim commented. Meaning that she was wearing slacks instead of jeans and sandals instead of running shoes.
“I’m having lunch with Andie.” Her doctor friend who had the clinic where she was going to start providing physical therapy services. She was just glad she’d still been at the ranch when Matt showed up looking for Beckett. She hadn’t expected that to happen, not in a million years.
“Don’t know why you left an established business in Billings,” Tim grumbled. Liv knew he suspected it was because of Greg, her ex-fiancé, but that wasn’t why she’d left.
“I wanted to come back to Dillon.” She didn’t dare say “to be closer to you and find out what the hell is going on because the ranch is a wreck and we both know it.” Out loud, anyway.
Her parents—polar opposites—had divorced when she was five. She’d spent every summer with her father on the ranch, and even though she loved him, she didn’t really know him. She didn’t know if Tim Bailey let anyone truly know him—even those he loved.
Living with her father had never been uncomfortable, merely silent. Sometimes they talked, but usually about small things. Things that didn’t require Tim to open up. And when they weren’t talking, they’d worked together on the place. Every morning Tim would have a written list of chores and Liv would do her part, some in the house, some outside, mostly what her father considered to be girl stuff, not hard labor. She’d often wondered if her father wrote a list to be organized, or so he wouldn’t have to talk. She’d wanted to talk. She still wanted to talk.
Fat chance.
The man was sixty-three years old. He wasn’t going to change, but maybe they could develop more of a relationship, somehow, if he didn’t keel over first.
“If you have thoughts of discussing me with Andie, don’t.”
Liv just smiled and grabbed her sweater. Silence could work for her, too. She wasn’t going to argue with him and she was definitely going to discuss him with Andie.
“I mean it,” he called as she headed for the door.
Wow. Two sentences in a row. He was serious.
And Liv was worried.
Anxiety knotted her stomach as she walked to her truck—and then past it to the barn. Beckett had free access to the stalls from the pasture and by some miracle he’d been inside, out of the sun, when Matt had arrived.
The big sorrel raised his head when Liv opened the man door on the opposite side of the barn and nickered a soft greeting.
“Good to see you, too,” Liv said as she walked across the dusty floor to the stall. “No treat today,” she murmured as she slowly raised her hand to rub the horse’s ears—something she hadn’t been able to do when she’d first bought him, because the horse had been so head shy. It’d taken her months to get to where she could raise her hand without the gelding flinching.
Beckett leaned into her hand, bobbing his head as she hit the sweet spot behind his ears. The scarred areas on his back and shoulders were now marked only by white hair that showed starkly against his rich copper coat. When she’d bought Beckett, the areas had been gruesome saddle sores where the hair and, in some places, the skin, had been worn off by a poor-fitting saddle and too many hours of use. The sore on his shoulder had been infected with maggots and the memory still made her shudder.
When Liv had expressed her outrage, Trena had only nodded, keeping her mouth carefully shut as if saying too much would betray Matt, her then husband. Trena wasn’t without guilt—she should have tended to the wounds, kept them from becoming infested—but she was afraid of horses and Matt was responsible for the wounds themselves. Well, someone had to take care of the horse, and that had been when Liv had been certain she was buying Beckett, regardless of what her then fiancé, Greg, decreed. Her life had changed that day as she stood up to Greg and hadn’t backed down in the name of peace and harmony. He’d been stunned. And so had she.
It had felt wonderful to finally stand her ground...and terrifying.
Liv gave Beckett one last pat, then took a few backward steps, debating about closing the access door to the pasture and keeping Beckett in the barn, just in case Matt came back.
She decided against it. Beckett needed space to move and if Matt came back, what was he going to do? Load the horse and leave? Steal him?
Probably not. He had a reputation to maintain and stealing a horse from the rightful owner was not going to help his image. But she could see him trying to charm her into selling. Charm had always been Matt’s strong point. It’d been the reason she’d been so duped by him back in the day.
As she walked back to the man door, she pressed a hand against the side of her face, remembering the one time he’d kissed her—on the cheek—and grimaced at how ecstatic, yet disappointed, she’d been. She’d been such a damned fool where men had been concerned back then, and had remained a fool for about ten years after. It’d taken Greg’s controlling behavior and a horse that needed her care to make her wake up and see the truth.
CHAPTER TWO
BECKETT WAS ON the Bailey Ranch. That was the good news. The bad news was that, unless Liv did a 180, getting Beckett back was going to be a challenge and Matt didn’t know what he was going to do about that. But he was going to do something and he was going to do it soon. He’d been off for four weeks and figured
he had another six before he could trust his knee enough to compete—just in time for the Bitterroot Challenge, the richest rodeo in Montana. He needed to start racking up earnings again.
The injury in Austin had put a major crimp in his comeback season, a season that until that point had been gold. Hopefully, because of his winning streak, he’d earned enough to hold his qualifying position for the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas, but he wasn’t taking chances. The year before, while dealing with his divorce and all the shit Trena had thrown his way, he’d missed qualifying by four hundred dollars. Four hundred lousy dollars—after winning the world title the previous season. It’d killed him, and it hadn’t helped that his brother, in his debut season, had done so damned well.
He needed to get that championship back.
He sank down into his chair and stretched his bad leg out in front of him. When he’d wrecked his knee this time, he’d done more damage than usual. In the past he’d injured his right knee, the one he used to brace against the calf when he threw it to the ground. This time, however, the left knee had gone, the one he used to mount and dismount. The emergency room doctor had been blunt and told Matt he’d roped his last calf, but Matt had heard that before and had proved the doctors wrong three times so far—and that was only on his right knee. It simply made sense that he had at least two more goes on his left. If he spaced them out.
Matt eased off his boot. Life without roping was not an option—at least not yet. It was the reason he got up in the morning, the reason he needed Beckett back. They shared chemistry, he and the horse. If Trena had truly wanted to hurt him—and she had—she couldn’t have come up with a better way to do it. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes.
Honestly, even if he never roped off Beckett again, Matt wanted him back because, until he had that horse, Trena would remain the victor in their private war.
And Matt did not take losing well.
The sound of a truck pulling into the drive brought Matt out of his chair and for one wild moment he thought that maybe Liv had decided to take his offer. Beckett was worth many thousands of dollars and he was certain that Trena would have gotten as much out of him as she possibly could, since the sale of the horse, as well as his truck, old tractor and two of his hunting rifles, had apparently bankrolled her exit. Ten percent over what Liv had paid would make for a tidy profit for her and he could see where after some thought she might have come to her senses.
But the visitor wasn’t Liv.
Matt instantly recognized the battered red pickup when he glanced out the window. His cousin, Wilhelmina, or Willa to anyone who didn’t want a black eye.
Willa was practically on his doorstep when he opened the door and a kid of maybe thirteen or fourteen was shuffling up the walk behind her. When had her son gotten so old?
Matt and Willa were not the closest of relatives, despite the fact that they lived in the same area, but that was mainly because he was always on the road and Willa was too prickly and mean to let anyone get too close to her.
“Hey, Willa. What’s up?” he asked, knowing it couldn’t be good. His cousin was all of five feet two inches high and had a squarish build, with blond curly hair and intense blue eyes. The kid was three or four inches taller than his mother with light brown hair and those same blue eyes peering at him from behind horn rim glasses. He smiled at Matt with a hint of apology that sent red flags popping up—then ambled a few feet away and pulled a phone out of his pocket.
Willa dove straight into her request. “I got a job working on a dude ranch up north and I need a favor.”
Yep. Bad news. “What kind of favor?”
“Crag needs a place to hang for a while.”
Crag? He’d thought the kid’s name was Craig. “Why with me?”
“Because you owe me,” she said in a low voice so that her son wouldn’t hear.
“I don’t owe you enough to be a babysitter,” Matt hissed back.
“Yeah, you do.” Willa stated it as fact, and he grudgingly had to admit she had a point. Willa had been the one who’d called him in San Antonio and warned him that a lot of his property seemed to be disappearing shortly after he and Trena had officially separated. She’d seen someone driving the old Studebaker pickup he’d bought to restore and had looked into the matter since, close or not, Matt was her cousin. He just wished she’d noticed before Beckett had been sold.
But... Matt eyed the boy, who candidly stared back...he knew nothing about kids.
“Like I said, Crag needs a place to stay and he needs something to keep him busy. Sorry about the short notice, but—” Willa shrugged “—not much I can do about it. I’m supposed to be there tomorrow.”
“What’s the rush?”
“One of their wranglers got hurt and this is a big opportunity for me. If I can get on full-time, I’ll get regular living quarters and then Crag can come live with me, but I have a probationary period.”
No. No. No.
“Willa...”
“He won’t stay here the entire time,” Willa said. “I’m making other arrangements. I just hit a snag and I have to get up there ASAP—”
“I get it.” Matt didn’t want to ask how long she wanted him to keep the boy, not with the kid standing there, but he needed some idea, since he didn’t plan to be there for much longer than six weeks himself.
“Please?” She practically mouthed the word, she said it so quietly.
“What are we talking here time-wise?” Matt asked. “I have some plans for later in the month. And a doctor’s appointment in Bozeman tomorrow.”
“One week, tops.” Willa scuffed the toe of her dusty work boot on the deck in a way that made him wonder if she was being totally honest. “That’s when my friend will be back from visiting her boyfriend in Seattle and she said Crag can stay with her. I can’t let this opportunity pass.” There was a note of desperation in her normally no-nonsense voice.
“I get you.” Matt wasn’t happy, but he did understand. Willa had a college degree in animal science, which had exactly zero job potential. Working as a horse wrangler on a dude ranch was a golden opportunity.
“All right.” Matt attempted to smile at the kid, who didn’t appear to be fooled by the lukewarm effort. He didn’t appear to be insulted, either. Just...accepting.
“Great. Thanks!” Willa turned to her son. “Go get your suitcase. I think you’ll like staying here.”
“No doubt,” the kid said flatly before getting to his feet and heading back to the beat-up truck.
Willa turned instantly back to Matt. “If he tries to go stay with his friend Benny don’t let him,” she said as soon as her son was out of earshot. “The kid’s not bad, but there are six other kids in the family and the mother never knows what any of them are doing. I think she’s on tranquilizers.”
“I would be,” Matt said. “Anything else I should know?”
“Nope. I think you two will get along great. I’ll email and call when I can, and here’s my cell number—” she handed him a card that read Willa Montoya, Horse Specialist “—so you can get hold of me if you have any questions. But other than Benny’s family situation, I can’t think of anything you need to know.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out some folded bills. “I have a hundred bucks I can give you for food.”
Matt shook his head. “No need.”
“Do you have any idea how much an adolescent eats?”
“If he eats too much we can settle up later.” He didn’t feel r
ight taking money from a woman so desperate to get a job—even if she was putting him in a position here.
Willa smiled and pushed the money back into her pocket. “Thanks, Matt. For everything.”
“No problem,” Matt said, hoping it sounded at least a little sincere.
A few minutes later, after Willa had said a few words to her son and then hugged him goodbye, she waved to both of them and then drove away.
Matt and Crag stood awkwardly next to one another, watching Willa escape to her new opportunity, and then Matt let out a long, silent breath.
This day was not turning out at all well.
The kid glanced over at him. “You know, if you don’t want me around, that’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t. Matt did not take commitment lightly and he’d just made one.
“I have a friend I could stay with—”
“Benny?”
“Mom got to you, eh?”
“Listen, Crag—”
“Call me Craig. Please.” The kid rolled his eyes as he said the last word. “I mean, come on. If your name was Wilhelmina, would you name your kid something as dumb as Crag?”
Matt felt like smiling. “No. I wouldn’t do that,” he agreed.
“Me, either. I just ask people to call me Craig and hope that the majority of them think my mom has an accent or something.”
This time Matt did smile. “Good plan.” He gestured at the duffel. “Let’s go inside. I have a spare room with a bed, but it’s not fancy.”
“It wasn’t like you knew I was coming.”
Amen to that. Matt held the door open and let Craig walk in ahead of him. The kid seemed okay. Not prickly like his mother.
Only a week. He could do it.
He hoped.
* * *
“SO YOU’RE COMING to watch practice tonight, right?” Dr. Andrea Ballentine reached for the check the server had just set on the edge of the table and Liv took hold at the same time. Liv gave a tug. They’d just finalized arrangements and Liv would start seeing patients next week, so she was technically employed and could technically pick up the tab.