The Rancher's Prospect

by Callie Endicott

  Of course...he could go to his brother. Jackson’s breeding program was well-known, but Josh didn’t want to slide in on his family’s coattails. It already felt as if he was behind the curve since Grandpa had delayed his retirement so long.

  The thought sent a mix of sorrow and guilt through Josh.

  Twenty-five years ago, Grandpa Walt and his brother had made plans for the futures of their respective ranches. Since Mitch was older and didn’t have children and Walt had two grandsons, Jackson and Josh, they agreed that Mitch would retire and give his ranch to his great-nephew once Jackson got out of college. Walt, in turn, would give the Boxing N spread to his younger grandson, Josh. Except Walt Nelson hadn’t retired when Josh graduated college, he’d kept working...until the accident.

  “I have a plan for the Boxing N, and bull semen from the Double J is part of it,” Josh said as calmly as possible. In the four months since Grandpa had given him the ranch, he’d danced around, trying to be considerate and respectful, but the situation was wearing on him.

  “Fancy-dancy nonsense,” Walt proclaimed. “That isn’t the way we do things here.” He stood. “I’m going to see how Grasshopper is doing. It’s her first foal.”

  As Walt Nelson limped toward the foaling barn, Josh held back a howl of frustration. Grandpa couldn’t let go of being boss, but you couldn’t have two bosses on a ranch, especially two with such dissimilar ideas.

  Perhaps it harked back to the old rivalry between the Nelsons, Josh’s mother’s family, and the McGregors, his father’s. It hadn’t been a blood feud, but it was fierce nonetheless, and it must have been a terrible blow to Walt when his only child fell in love with someone from the enemy camp. Walt still didn’t really approve of the McGregors.

  Needing space, Josh went to the barn, saddled Lightfoot and rode toward the north section of the ranch.

  His frustration doubled when he saw slack wire on a fence. One of the ranch hands should have found the problem and taken care of it, but they were confused about whose orders to follow, who was doing what and when to do it. And they were also shorthanded since several men had quit, telling Josh that they’d return once Walt was out of the picture. Between the two problems, things were getting missed.

  Taking the tools from his saddlebag, Josh began repairing the fence. Grappling with wire was preferable to the tug-of-war he was having with his grandfather. He would have used his trust fund to buy a different ranch years ago if he’d known everything would turn out this way. Now he was stuck—Walt couldn’t handle the Boxing N alone, and Josh couldn’t abandon the old guy, no matter how crazy the situation made him.

  Distracted, Josh felt his hand slip. The wire cutters slashed across his palm and blood immediately welled from the ragged slice.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  * * *

  TARA WALKED DOWN the street, following the directions to the clinic that Lauren had given her. It was almost surreal to see so many people dressed in jeans, boots and cowboy hats, as if she’d walked onto the set of a Hollywood Western.

  Just three days before she’d been at the Chartres cathedral, brushing shoulders with visitors from around the world. It had been a farewell trip to one of her favorite French landmarks since she didn’t know how soon she’d be back. Now she was living in the land of cowboys and hitching posts. She only knew they were hitching posts because she saw a horse tied to one.

  Stopping in front of the Schuyler Medical Clinic—a modest title since apparently it covered a vast array of services—Tara straightened her shoulders. The drive from Helena with her sister had been filled with awkward silences and even more awkward bursts of conversation. Still, it was too early to draw any conclusions about how well they would get along.

  It didn’t help that she wasn’t good at relationships in the first place. Her most serious boyfriend, Pierre Montrose, had made her failures in that area abundantly clear.

  Pushing the memory away, she entered the clinic.

  The receptionist’s eyes widened. “You must be Tara. The two of you really do look alike.”

  Tara tried to smile. She would probably hear that often while she was in town.

  The other woman looked at the clock. “Lauren should be ready soon.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lauren was a physician’s assistant and had moved to Schuyler the previous year. She’d come for a friend’s wedding and had immediately decided the small town suited her much better than Los Angeles. It wouldn’t have been Tara’s choice, but to each their own, she supposed.

  As she perused a rack of magazines, the outer door opened. A man stomped inside, his left arm wrapped in a bloodstained towel. He was attractive, with dark brown hair and intense blue eyes, but his face was flushed and scowling.

  “Good, you’re here,” he said, thrusting his injured limb at her. “I need this stitched up, and please skip the lectures.”

  Tara raised her eyebrows. “I’m afraid you—”

  “Give me a break, Lauren. Just do it without one of your speeches.”

  His manner was startlingly abrupt...surely all Montanans weren’t this rude.

  “I was trying to explain that you’ve mistaken me for my twin sister, Lauren,” Tara said, keeping her tone as even as possible. It wasn’t easy. She’d never had a cat, but she knew it annoyed them if you rubbed their fur backward, and that’s how she felt...as if she’d literally been rubbed the wrong way.

  “What the hell?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “I’d like to point something out, however,” she added smoothly. “Declaring you don’t want a lecture suggests you may need one.”

  “You’ve got one hell of a nerve saying that,” he snapped.

  “Didn’t I get it right?” she asked. “Tell me what happened and I’ll try to tailor my lecture.”

  “Hell.”

  “You seem to have a limited vocabulary. That was your third ‘hell’ in less than a minute.”

  He glared and turned to the receptionist. “Is Lauren available?”

  “I’ve already paged her, Josh. She’ll be out in a minute. Has the bleeding stopped?”

  “Mostly.”

  A minute later Lauren hurried into the waiting room and checked Josh’s wound. She looked at Tara apologetically. “I need to take care of this,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m happy to wait while you deal with the results of someone’s stupidity.”

  Lauren’s eyes widened, but she simply gestured to her bad-tempered patient, who followed her into the rear of the clinic with a last fierce look at Tara.

  The receptionist chuckled once the door had closed behind them. “Oh, my gosh, Lauren said you had opposite personalities, and now I see what she meant.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. She’s a terrific PA and very sweet, but she would never stick it to Josh the way you did. Good job.”

  “Thanks. Is he always like Napoleon with a headache?” Tara asked, using one of her French coworker’s similes.

  “Lately, at least. He’s getting on everyone’s nerves and keeps—”

  The woman stopped abruptly and looked down at the papers on her desk; perhaps she’d been about to say something prohibited under privacy regulations. She seemed relieved when someone else came through the door and stepped up to the window. A protracted discussion about insurance ensued, so Tara settled into a seat and leafed through a news magazine. She read with interest an article on international relations with France. The thought of returning to Paris for her next contract was compelling, but there were so many other places to see. Rome and Berlin called to her as well, along with Madrid.

  In the background, she heard a comment about something Josh needed and pictured his face again. Maybe she shouldn’t have sounded off since the clinic was Lauren�
��s place of employment. But who did he think he was? Lauren was a professional, not a flunky who was supposed to jump when he snapped his fingers.

  As for lectures... Weren’t medical personnel supposed to advise their patients on healthy living?

  She was on her third magazine when the interior door swung open.

  It was Josh...What’s His Name. While his hand was neatly bandaged and elevated in a sling, getting it treated obviously hadn’t sweetened his mood. The thunderclouds on his face did nothing to diminish his good looks, but Tara wasn’t impressed—she’d known too many handsome jerks over the years. He glanced at her, and she gave him a wickedly sweet smile, which made him glower all the more fiercely before marching from the clinic.

  Lauren joined her several minutes later.

  “I’m free now,” she said. “But I’m afraid that took part of my lunch hour.”

  “That’s okay. Where shall we go?”

  “How about the restaurant down the street? It isn’t gourmet, nothing like the places where we ate in Paris. Schuyler doesn’t have any fancy restaurants, but the Roundup Café is fast and clean.”

  “Not a problem. I enjoy indigenous foods.”

  Lauren just blinked at the tongue-in-cheek remark, so Tara wasn’t sure whether her sister shared her sense of humor. Or maybe they simply needed to know each other better before that sort of thing could be understood between them.

  * * *

  JOSH STALKED AWAY from the clinic. The throb in his palm had subsided thanks to the anesthetic Lauren had used before sewing it up, but it would undoubtedly begin hurting again as that wore off. She’d also written a prescription for pain pills. He had insisted they weren’t necessary, but she’d reasonably pointed out that he might change his mind after the clinic had closed.

  It didn’t help to know he’d acted worse than a hungry bear right out of hibernation. The series of accidents he’d had in recent months had made him feel like a ten-thumbed greenhorn. What’s more, once he got back to the Boxing N, Grandpa was sure to make a remark that would send his blood pressure sky-high.

  On Josh’s last two visits to the clinic, Lauren had suggested he needed to pay more attention to what he was doing, especially when tense or angry. It was irritating to be told something he already knew, and he hadn’t wanted to hear it again. Still, Lauren Spencer was a nice sort, and he shouldn’t have barked at her...or at the woman he’d thought was Lauren. The story of her long-lost twin sister had gone through Schuyler with the speed of a grassfire, but he hadn’t realized they were identical.

  Well, not really identical, at least in personality. Lauren was quiet, almost shy at times, with a down-to-earth practicality, while Tara had a cool, sensual polish. If he’d known she was in town he never would have mixed them up, but he’d heard she lived in France. She did seem foreign in Montana, while her sister had fit in from the beginning. It was a good thing. Getting medical professionals in Schuyler was an ongoing challenge; the town had even resorted to offering a bonus for anyone agreeing to stay three years or longer.

  Josh snorted grimly. People in Schuyler wouldn’t be pleased if he said anything to make Lauren unhappy. It wasn’t just that they needed a good PA, they liked her...a whole lot better than they liked him recently.

  Grimacing, he fished his cell phone out, awkward from being temporarily one-handed. Finally he untied the sling and stuffed it in his pocket. His phone had rung several times in the clinic, but he hadn’t been able to answer while Lauren was stitching up his palm.

  The missed calls were from his parents’ home number, so he dialed back, trying to ignore the small clutch in his chest. It had only been six months since they’d lost Grandma Evelyn, and the whole family remained jumpy about the possibility of more bad news.

  “Darling, are you all right?” asked his mother in an anxious tone. “Dora Payton phoned. She said you went into the clinic covered in blood.”

  “Dora overreacted, as usual. It’s just a cut and Lauren put in a few stitches.”

  “Thank God. Not that I’m happy you were hurt, I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. Why don’t you come over and lie down for a while? I’ll make you lunch.”

  Sarah McGregor couldn’t resist playing mommy, even for her grown children.

  “Thanks, but I’m fine. As long as I’m in town, I’m going to run an errand.”

  “Oh. All right. Call if you need anything.”

  “Will do.” Josh disconnected before she could suggest pulling out his old teddy bear for comfort.

  He returned the phone to his pocket and headed for the bank. After taking care of his business, he’d stop and grab lunch before going back to the ranch. Maybe along the way he’d get a little inspiration on dealing with his grandfather.

  * * *

  AS SHE AND LAUREN stepped into the Roundup Café, Tara was instantly aware that they’d become the center of attention. Heads swiveled their direction, the rhythm of the conversations changed and several people left their seats to crowd around them.

  “My word, Lauren,” an older woman exclaimed, “you mentioned having a twin, but it didn’t sink in that you’d look so much alike. Your hair and eyes... I can hardly tell you apart.”

  “Did you really meet for the first time in the last year?” someone else asked. “That’s amazing.”

  Their curiosity was understandable. Separated and reunited twins weren’t common, and Tara knew she might be equally curious in their shoes.

  “Tara,” Lauren said, “this is Vanta Cooper, she’s an attorney, and that’s Mark Corson, and this is Rob Mueller...”

  The introductions continued and Tara lost track of the names; it seemed as if her sister knew everyone in town.

  Vanta Cooper leaned toward Tara. “Don’t worry, nobody expects you to remember who we are. Lauren gets to know us at the clinic and other places.”

  Nevertheless, Tara was getting distinctly edgy. How had her sister become friends with so many people? She’d only lived in Schuyler since last October. Maybe it was a Montana thing, the open ranges and isolation drawing everyone together. Or it could simply be that Lauren made friends easily.

  Tara’s smile got harder to maintain as the introductions continued. She hoped nobody expected her to be like her twin, because she wasn’t. Life as a foster kid had taught her there were risks to getting close to people. As an adult she’d spent two years in each country where she’d worked but couldn’t claim to have friends in any of them; knowing she was leaving made it seem best to keep her distance. Naturally she had acquaintances, though she rarely kept contact with them once she moved on to a new position.

  After what seemed like ages, folks returned to their seats while she and Lauren found a table along the wall.

  “You’ve obviously gotten to know a lot of people here,” Tara commented after they gave their order to a server.

  “Medical personnel are popular in Schuyler,” Lauren explained. “And my best friend married into one of the oldest families in town, so that helps. Everybody knows the McGregors.”

  Tara frowned thoughtfully. “I thought Emily married someone named Hawkins.” Her sister had sent Emily’s name as an emergency contact after moving to Schuyler.

  “She did, but Trent’s mother was a McGregor. When his parents died, he and his sister, Alaina, were adopted by their maternal uncle and aunt. The family is terrific and everybody here is so nice. I was really impressed when I came for the wedding, and since Emily loves the place so much, I decided Schuyler would be a good place to live.”

  “I see.”

  Just then the café door opened and in walked the wounded jackass from the clinic. He looked around, probably searching for an empty spot in the crowded restaurant, and Tara hoped he didn’t expect to join them, because while sparring with him might be interesting, she was sure it would make her sister uncomfortable.
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br />   “Hey, Lauren,” he said, stopping nearby.

  “Hey, Josh.” Lauren looked at his bandage before focusing on his face. “What happened to the sling?”

  “It’s in my pocket. I want to thank you for taking care of me. Sorry I was so abrupt.”

  “No worries. I, um, should properly introduce you to my twin sister.” She gestured. “Josh McGregor, Tara Livingston.”

  McGregor?

  Oh, great.

  For a moment Tara wondered whether Lauren might be sweet on the guy; that might also explain the “lecture.” If so, her move to Montana made sense. But if they were involved romantically, Tara knew she might cut her stay short—watching someone careening toward an emotional train wreck wasn’t her idea of fun. Her sister was far too quiet and shy to deal with Josh McGregor’s volatile personality. Work was the only part of Lauren’s life where she seemed confident.

  “Hello,” Tara muttered, and he gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod.

  “Please keep your arm elevated as much as possible,” Lauren urged him. “That spot on the hand is especially vulnerable to infection. And take it easy. You need to let it heal.”

  “You bet. Thanks.”

  When they were alone again, Lauren leaned forward. “I realize Josh was in a rotten mood when you met him earlier, but he isn’t always that way. Emily says he’s a good guy,” she said softly.

  “Deep, deep down, right?” Tara guessed, deciding that Lauren wasn’t interested in Josh, after all, except as a patient.

  “He can be difficult, but from everything I’ve heard, he’s going through a rough time right now.” Lauren nervously adjusted her water glass. “Anyhow, I was thrilled when you said you were coming for an extended visit, but can you afford to be off work that long?”

  “It isn’t a problem.”

  Tara wasn’t accustomed to sharing personal details with anyone, and didn’t elaborate on her financial situation. For ten years she’d enjoyed generous salaries, a full living expense allowance and hefty bonuses. She’d bought company stock and was well fixed. Employment wasn’t about earning a paycheck any longer; it was about seeing and living in new places and getting better at her work in accounting and records management. She’d specialized in both.