He didn’t budge when she feathered light kisses across his lips, nor when she smoothed back the dark hair that skimmed his eyebrows.
Summer hated sneaking out like a thief in the night, which was how it felt when she left Colt’s bed. But she’d forewarned him that she couldn’t stay the night.
It wasn’t until she’d dressed, slipped out and climbed the stairs to her own empty bed, that she realized he’d offered no solution to the dilemma she’d sobbed into his shoulder. Nor had he given her reason to think—to hope—he might want to join her at the smaller ranch she’d suggested purchasing.
Summer strained to recall if words of love had passed her lips. She was certain nothing remotely like that had come from Coltrane.
Was she being foolish, falling into his bed like a love-starved divorcée?
It was a stinging question that remained unanswered, even as morning light crept into her room. That lack of any commitment on his part bothered her so much, she needed a day alone before she had to face him again.
Rising at dawn, Summer rousted Virgil. She quickly filled him in on her run-in with Frank at the tally yard. “I’m driving to town this morning to do my errands. And I have to talk to Larkin Crosley. I need a plan of defense in case Frank tries to carry out his threat. Coltrane and Tracey are capable of starting the next leg of the roundup without me. I know I promised them a day off, but… I can’t explain this sudden urgency I feel about collecting my cattle right away.”
Virgil yawned. “You’re the boss, Summer. They’ll do as you wish.”
“I know, but…well, tell them that unless Larkin thinks I ought to stay with Rory, I’ll join them on the north range tomorrow. I’ll try, anyway.”
Two hours later, Virgil relayed Summer’s message. Tracey nodded and headed for the barn.
Colt, who feared that Summer might jump the gun and sign the ranch over to Edward Adams today, questioned the old man in detail. “Did Summer seem unusually upset this morning? I mean, she wouldn’t knuckle under to Frank, do you think?”
“Upset? For sure,” the old man muttered. “Larkin may be gettin’ on in years, but he’s smart. He served Summer’s daddy and granddaddy well. If I know Larkin, he’ll let Frank sweat until the eleventh hour.” Virgil clapped Colt on the shoulder. “So if you’re worried that you and Trace might lose your jobs, you’re probably set till spring. April. That’s when Frank’ll have us all evicted.”
Colt was worried. Not about losing his job but that SOS might lose the deal before he could convince Marley to leave Summer in charge.
“Thanks, Virgil. This was supposed to be our down day. Since Summer changed her mind, I’m sending Trace out alone for the morning. I have a package I need to get in today’s mail. Would you find Trace and tell him not to saddle Moon Shadow? If I go now, I can probably get to the post office and back by noon. Ask Tracey to meet me for lunch at the holding pen.”
“Will do. I’m edgy about getting all Summer’s steers down out of the high country before the snow flies. There’s a warm wind blowing today. Maybe Two Bears is losin’ it. I sure don’t see any sign of snow.”
Colt glanced at the blue sky and at a sun struggling to peek over the crest of the ridge. “Weather can turn on a dime. I’ve seen it happen in Idaho. Still, I have to agree there’s nothing on this horizon to suggest snow.”
The men parted, Virgil off to the barn, Colt peeling away to collect his package.
An hour later when he reached town, he spotted Summer’s pickup parked in front of a brick professional building. Probably where her lawyer had his office.
Colt stopped at the post office and mailed samples of Audrey’s cream to Mossberger. From there, he drove straight to the Arrowroot Inn. He chose a visitor parking slot near the back of the motel, wanting to keep his visit to Gabe on the QT.
Inside, he asked the girl at the check-in counter to ring Gabe Poston’s room.
“You know him? Cool,” she said in a dreamy way Colt had long since come to associate with women who fell under the spell of Gabe’s killer good looks. “Mr. Poston’s out. I think he planned to have breakfast at the Green Willow. Would you like to leave him a message?”
Colt drummed his fingers on the counter. He didn’t want to go to the Green Willow and risk having someone inform Summer. “No, no message,” he said. Instead, Colt returned to his truck and called Gabe on his cellular.
“Gabe? Colt. I’m in town briefly. I need to see you now.”
“I’ve already eaten, but I’ll stand you a cup of coffee. I’m at the café.”
“Can’t. Summer Marsh is in town. She thinks Tracey and I are out on the range. Are you familiar with the park at the end of the block? Good. Meet me there. This time of day we won’t be bothered, except maybe by a few pigeons.”
“Okay, but what’s up? Is there any danger this cloak-and-dagger meeting of yours might jeopardize our negotiations?”
“It shouldn’t. In fact, what I have in mind will save Marley money. See you at the park. In five minutes.” Colt clicked off in the middle of Gabe’s grumbling.
Colt arrived first. He paced in circles, finally sitting at a weathered picnic table. When Gabe showed up, Colt gestured to his seat.
“And get splinters in my new wool pants? No, thanks. Okay, Coltrane, spill what’s on your mind. Why didn’t you phone me back last night?”
Colt stumbled over that answer. Memories of how he’d occupied his evening burst behind his eyes in living color. He chose to bypass Gabe’s question and launch immediately into his plan for creating a partnership with Summer. “This way, Marley only needs about half the original cash. The judge said if Summer could buy out Frank before April, that’s all she needs to do. You could draw up a contract to pay her a management fee. You’re the lawyer, but maybe you could add a clause ensuring her son be offered the same deal. Just in case we’re all dead by then.” Colt grinned. “Rory’s only seven. And Summer’s not so old that she won’t ranch for another fifty years.”
Gabe stalked around and around the table while Colt sat gingerly on the edge. “I came here with orders, Coltrane. Anyway, Marley’s pegged it as an ideal wildlife preserve.”
Colt gripped Gabe’s sleeve. “Just talk to Summer. Look at her books. She’s run the ranch since before her father died. I’ve seen her ledgers. One year she had to take a loan for winter feed, but other than that, she’s run solidly in the black.” He frowned. “Whatever you do, Gabe, I want my name kept out of this. Whether or not she goes for the deal, I’m fading into the sunset when all’s said and done.”
“You’ve gone and fallen in love with Mrs. Marsh, haven’t you, buddy?”
Colt’s jaw tightened. “Even if I have, it’s gotta end. I have nothing to offer her. And my feelings don’t enter into the plan I’ve suggested. The Forked Lightning belonged to her people. Her roots here are deep. Besides, she’s competent, dammit.”
“Hmm.” Gabe stroked his lean jaw. “I shouldn’t break a confidence…but…” He paused again, expelling his breath loudly. “Hell, you need to know. Marley’s talked about making you temporary manager until he knows if this place flies as a preserve. Those negotiations could take years. And something else… Marley’s sister said Tracey’s found his niche. I guess the kid’s phoned home all full of himself. Keeping Tracey on as a wrangler would undoubtedly be part of the deal.”
Colt’s mouth fell open. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t. It’s out of the question. Me take Summer’s ranch? I won’t do it.”
“It’s a dream deal, Coltrane. I’d think it over for a few days if I were you. We know your heart’s in raising horses. And you could be an old man before you save enough to buy another spread. This way, you’d be able to build up your herd again. Think, man. On a ranch this size, you could be the country’s king Morgan breeder within five years. You’d earn enough to buy a ranch of your own by the time Congress votes to make this officially government-protected land.”
Gabe let Colt digest that tidbit, then slapped his sh
oulder. “Hey, you said you’re headed out on the last half of the roundup. That’ll give you space to think. I’ll hold off discussing your idea with Marley until you finish.” Turning, Gabe walked off.
Stunned by the offer tossed at his feet, Colt floundered for a minute or two. Then, sailing from his seat, he raced after Gabe, grabbed him and spun him around. “No. Something you’re forgetting is how I felt when Monica shafted me. Summer Marsh trusts me. I want no part of a deal that looks like I’m stabbing her in the back.”
“Wow, I can’t wait to meet this woman who’s tied you in knots. Marc, Mossberger and I all thought you’d jump at the offer. We didn’t believe there was anything you wanted more than to raise horses again. Apparently you’ve forgotten it was a woman who knifed you, buddy.” Gabe shook off Colt’s hand. “I’m still giving you time to come to your senses. Call me next week.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my senses. You call Marley with my recommendation. Now. Today, dammit!” Colt’s voice rose in frustration.
Gabe jammed his hands in his pants pockets. “You’re hopeless, Coltrane. Why not marry her and solve both your dilemmas? Look, we’d better break this up. There’s a guy across the street giving us the eye.” This time Gabe jogged off without glancing back.
“You’re crazy,” Colt yelled. Summer would never marry him. Would she? Angry at his friend for suggesting such a thing, for putting ideas in his head, Colt kicked through a pile of crunchy fall leaves. Looking up, he saw the man Gabe had said was watching them. Phil Eubanks, owner of the Mercantile, puttered around his garbage cans. He studied Colt, too. Then, seeming to recognize him, Phil waved.
Swearing under his breath, Colt nevertheless returned the wave. Once Phil went back inside, Colt didn’t linger in the park. He strode straight to his pickup and drove back to the ranch. On the way, he phoned Gabe and left a message on his voice mail. “I won’t change my mind. I want SOS to partner with Summer Marsh, period.”
SUMMER’S MEETING WITH Larkin Crosley went well. He convinced her not to do anything immediately and advised making Frank play out his hand. “Frank wants a knee-jerk reaction from you,” he said. “I think he’s letting that real estate woman lead him around by the ball—uh…er…nose,” Larkin stated, blushing furiously as he walked Summer to the door.
She chuckled at the old man’s embarrassment. “I’m a rancher, Larkin, I’ve heard the term balls before.” Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a pickup turning the corner at the end of Center Street. Coltrane’s? It sure looked like his.
Summer rejected the idea. He wouldn’t be in town. He’d be tracking her brand on cattle grazing the north range. Someone obviously had a similar pickup.
“I’ll file for an extension on the custody hearing based on hardship, Summer.”
“I can’t tell you how much you’ve eased my mind, Larkin.” Summer pressed his blue-veined hand. “I’m guilty of letting this dispute with Frank scare me into being illogical. You’re probably right about Jill motivating Frank’s attempts to coerce me. Going by the little I know of her, I’d say she’s not the type to welcome raising a child. Between you and me, I suspect she’s pegged Frank as her ticket out of Callanton. Jill may have been born and raised in the valley, but I heard that she left once before. She went to Portland and got involved in some real estate venture that failed. According to a clerk at one of the banks in Burns, that’s why she came back here. But she still wants out.”
“If I could believe that queen bee would turn and sting Frank Marsh to death, I’d die a happy man.”
“Larkin, shame on you. And don’t mention what I said to anyone. I’d hate to have Rory hear snide comments about his dad.”
“Summer, when will you get it through your head that the boy’s a Callan, not a Marsh? I’ve got every confidence that Rory will one day see Frank for what he is.”
“I hope not until he’s old enough to handle the disappointment. Which is all I intend to say on the subject. How would you like to take a short break? I’ll buy you a cup of coffee at the Green Willow.”
The old man pulled out his pocket watch. “I’d love to, but Reverend Thornton is due for an appointment in ten minutes. He bought a used car on his last trip to Portland. He thinks he got stung and wants me to write a letter demanding a reduction in payments for all the work he had to have done. Don’t ask me why he didn’t buy a car closer to home.”
“I’ll tell you why. He feels the church council put him in exile by sending him here. His wife said their church in Portland was huge. It was plainly too much for him.”
“Ah. Well, enjoy your coffee.”
“Since you can’t go, I’ll skip it, too. While I’m in town, I think I’ll pick up my supplies at the Mercantile. Then I’ll do as you suggested—I’ll run by the grade school and take Rory out for what’s left of roundup before I skedaddle on back to the ranch. He’ll be ecstatic. You’re sure it’s the wisest move?”
“You said Rory’s at the top of his class. A little vacation with his mom will be good. That way, Frank can’t accuse you of devoting more time to ranch duties than to your son.”
“No, he’ll say I’m sabotaging Rory’s education.” Smiling wryly, she took her leave of the old attorney. “I guess I’m dammed if I do, damned if I don’t.” Larkin walked her out, and while he went back inside his office, she crossed to the Mercantile.
Phil Eubanks greeted Summer the moment she entered the store. “I didn’t expect to see you in town, what with this being roundup time. Anyway, I figured your new man would pick up the order you phoned in, since I saw him in town earlier.”
The smile Summer had donned for another of her dad’s old friends died on her lips. “Excuse me? Who did you see, Phil?”
The tips of the man’s ears turned pink. “I didn’t mean your new man in a personal way, Summer. I meant that fellow you hired. What’s his name…Quinn?”
“Coltrane?” So it had been his pickup.
“Yep. The very same. He was in the park for quite a spell, talking to a well-heeled stranger. I mean the guy wore a snazzy three-piece suit, the type you won’t find locally. I could tell Quinn and that fellow had words.”
“You’re sure you don’t know the person he met?”
“Nope. But he put me in mind of those resort development folks who sucked up to Frank. I’m not saying he’s a developer, just that he dressed like a big shot. Heck, Summer. You know I don’t explain things too well.”
“No. You explain things fine, Phil.” Summer’s stomach went into free fall.
“Is your pickup out front? I’ll load her up.”
“It’s across the street,” she replied numbly, her heart knocking wildly against her ribs. Hadn’t she known all along that Coltrane Quinn was too good to be true? That first night he came to the house with sugar in his smile and his sack full of gifts, she should’ve gone with her gut instinct. He was too polished. Too glib. Too damned charming. Superficial charm had been her downfall with Frank. God, how could she be so stupid again?
The question was, who’d sent Colt to spy? Not Edward Adams. Then what was Coltrane’s game? Feeling sick, Summer almost didn’t hear Phil asking her to swing her truck around.
Her mind had turned to mush. After she’d belatedly thanked Phil for his help, she vacillated about following through on her plans to collect Rory and take him with her on roundup. But if she didn’t bring her cattle in off the range, what then?
Her head somewhat clearer by the time she parked at the school, Summer decided she’d simply play along until Colt showed his hand.
As Larkin said, signing Rory out for roundup met with his teacher’s approval, and his. “You mean it, Mom? Oh, wow, cool. Today I showed the other kids here what Colt taught me about roping. A few more days with him, and I’ll bet I can rope a real calf.”
Summer’s best defense was silence. She’d see to it that Rory stayed with her to the end of roundup. No way would she let him be hurt by the carelessness of another man.
On
the off chance that Jesse Cook might have freed up a wrangler, Summer detoured past the Broken Arrow. If Jesse could spare even one man, she’d go home and fire Colt Quinn and his pal.
“Golly, Summer. I wish I could help you out,” Jesse said, wrinkling his nose. “I guess you heard Grandpa insists there’ll be snow before week’s end.”
Out of habit, Summer scanned the blue sky. “Not this week? I’ll grant you it got cold last night. But I was out late and there wasn’t a sign of frost.” And maybe she’d found it so cold because of the way she’d left Colt’s warm body. A memory of how he looked sleeping only added insult to injury.
She recovered enough to shake her head at Jesse’s warning.
“I’ve never known Grandpa to be wrong about the weather.”
“Well, on that cheery note, I’d better hustle my bustle home. I’ve got several days of combing washes in the gorge before all my stock is in.”
“I get to help,” Rory announced proudly. “Mama’s letting me skip school.”
Summer grimaced. “It’s not skipping school when you’re ahead in your work, Rory. And Miss Robbins agreed.”
“Don’t worry, Summer, I’m not about to repeat something like that.” Jesse lowered his voice, and for her ears alone, said, “One of my wranglers who was at the rail yard yesterday told me about your set-to with Frank.”
Summer darted a glance at her son, but he’d raced off to talk to Jesse’s youngest daughter. “That’s the real reason I’m pulling him out of school. I don’t think Frank would do anything foolish, like take off with Rory. But as Larkin said today, the promise of big money makes men do outrageous things.” Now that she’d brought up the subject, she figured money was at the root of whatever drove Colt.
“I haven’t wanted to speak out of turn. Me and some of the other ranchers in the co-op noticed a change in Frank after your dad passed on. Like someone flipped a switch and made him Mr. Asshole.”
Wide Open Spaces (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 19