Cade Coulter's Return

by Lois Faye Dyer

  If Cade didn’t have the will in front of him, he wouldn’t have believed Anderson. But the document was clear. He scanned the typed pages quickly, stopping abruptly when he reached page five.

  “He left my grandparents’ cabin and three acres to Mariah Jones?” The quick flash of anger echoed in his words.

  “Yes.” Anderson didn’t flinch from Cade’s hard stare. “Joseph died of cancer. Mariah Jones took care of him, and it was my observation that he viewed her as a daughter.”

  “I’ll bet he did.” Cade’s growled response held sarcasm. He didn’t believe any man, even one Joseph’s age, could look at the blonde and not see a beautiful, sexy woman. He tossed the will onto the desk in front of him. “That cabin sits within yards of the barn and is part of Triple C headquarters, plus it’s landlocked and surrounded by Coulter land. Is there a way to break the will and keep it part of the ranch?”

  “No,” Anderson replied. “A clause provides any heir challenging any part of the will shall have their portion of the estate gifted to the State of Montana’s park system.”

  Cade frowned, silently considering the problem before deciding to shelve it for the moment. Not that he believed there wasn’t a way to keep the cabin in Coulter hands, nor that Mariah Jones hadn’t somehow manipulated Joseph to convince him to leave her the valuable property. The cabin was important not only because of its location—his grandfather had built it with his own hands. It was part of Coulter history and he’d find a way to reclaim it. “You said the ranch is hanging on by its fingertips. What do you mean?” he asked, returning to the larger issue of the Triple C.

  “There are no cash assets. Joseph was increasingly ill for several years and medical bills ate up what cash he had. The ranch itself has been maintained but not at optimum level.”

  Cade nodded. “I went to the Triple C before coming here. I’ve seen the buildings though I haven’t closely assessed them.”

  “Then you have some idea of what you’re up against,” Ned replied. He slid another document across the desktop to Cade. “This is information about the inheritance taxes. As you can see, they’re substantial and are the most pressing problem you and your brothers will have. Unless any of you are independently wealthy and have the means to pay them?” he added, a hopeful note in his voice.

  The total tax dollars owed was staggering.

  “No,” Cade replied. “We’re all solvent but I doubt any of us has that kind of money.”

  “Then you’ll have to work together to find a way to make the ranch earn enough to pay the taxes.” Ned eyed Cade.

  “It’ll take a damned miracle,” Cade told him.

  “Perhaps.” The attorney replied.

  “Is there anything else I need to know right now?” Cade asked.

  “I think you have the basics.”

  “Then I’ll head back to the ranch.” Cade stood and held out his hand, shaking the attorney’s as he stood. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Good. And Cade…”

  Cade paused at the doorway to look back at Anderson.

  “Welcome home.”

  Cade nodded and left the office.

  Barely two hours after he’d left Mariah in the ranch yard, Cade drove out of Indian Springs and headed back to the Triple C. His discussion with the attorney about the details of his father’s estate had raised more questions than answers.

  Given the long estrangement between Cade, his brothers and their father, Cade hadn’t expected any of them to receive much, if anything, from his estate. To his surprise, Joseph Coulter had left nearly everything he owned to his four sons in approximately equal shares.

  But the Triple C had barely been making ends meet before Joseph’s death, Cade thought grimly, and there was a good chance his sons would lose the vast acres to taxes and debt.

  And just to add to the complicated mess his father had left for his sons to sort out, Joseph had given his grandparents’ cabin to Mariah Jones. The house and its acre of surrounding land edged the creek bank and sat within view of the main ranch house, just beyond the barn and outbuildings. The blonde also had a legal right to use the lane to the highway.

  Unless he could find a way to break that part of his father’s will, Cade was stuck with having Mariah living on the ranch permanently.

  It was almost six o’clock and full dark when he reached the Triple C. His headlights arced over the corral and barn before he parked in front of the bunkhouse where warm lamplight poured through the windows. At the main house across the ranch yard, only the solitary porch light glowed, throwing the ends of the deep porch into shadow.

  Cade climbed the shallow steps to the bunkhouse and entered without knocking.

  The three people seated at the table in the kitchen area all looked up. Two men, one older and one kid, sat with Mariah, whose hair gleamed silver in the light. Her brown eyes widened before her expression shuttered.

  “Evening,” Cade said, hanging his hat on a hook next to the door and shrugging out of his coat.

  “Hello.” Mariah pushed back her chair and walked to the stove. She picked up potholders, pausing to look over her shoulder. “J.T., Pete, this is Cade Coulter.”

  The two stood as Cade joined them.

  “Evenin’, boss.” The elderly cowboy was lean and rangy, shoulders slightly stooped. A white shock of hair covered his head and bright blue eyes were shrewd under heavy eyebrows. His lined face with its craggy nose and strong chin held character and gave testimony to a lifetime of working outside in Montana weather.

  “Evening, boss.” The kid’s greeting copied the older man’s right down to the inflection and polite neutrality. He was equally tall and rangy except his shoulders were square, straight with youth. His dark blond hair was a shade too long and brushed his collar in back, his navy blue eyes cool and unreadable as they met Cade’s. He wore faded jeans, cowboy boots and a ripped but clean plaid flannel shirt that hung unbuttoned over a black T-shirt. The tee had a faded rock band logo with the words “hell-raiser” centered on his chest.

  The three men shook hands, murmured polite hellos, before they all sat down. Cade caught a glimpse of a tattoo just beneath the edge of the shirt’s worn neckline as J.T. sat.

  The kid’s got attitude, Cade thought. I wonder if he’s any good at working on a ranch.

  “Corn bread is on the plate, under the cover.” Mariah set a steaming bowl of chili in front of Cade, nodding at the red gingham covered dish in the center of the table.

  “Thanks.” Cade breathed in a faint floral scent as she leaned closer to lower the bowl before she moved away. He felt his muscles tighten and he had to restrain the urge to watch the sway of her hips encased in faded jeans. She wore a sweater with a high neck, her hair a spill of silvery blond against the bright red wool. She was covered from head to toe in boots, jeans and wool sweater yet she drew his attention like a magnet.

  “Careful, the bowl’s hot,” she commented before she returned to her seat across the table.

  They ate in silence, emptying their bowls and the plate of corn bread. Pete carried his china and utensils to the sink and returned with a thermal carafe of coffee, gnarled fingers holding the handles of four mugs. He poured and passed around filled mugs without saying a word.

  “Thanks.” Cade sipped his coffee and leaned back in the wooden chair. “Suppose you all bring me up-to-date on what’s been happening here.” He glanced around the table. “Who’s in charge of the cattle?”

  “I guess that would be me,” Pete said in his gravelly voice. “Though we all pitch in with fixing fences or moving a herd when necessary.”

  “How many cow-calf pairs was Dad running? How many steers? And how many did you lose over the winter?”

  Pete quoted numbers that surprised Cade. “That’s more cattle than I’d expected, especially with just three full-time hands.”

  “Two full-time hands,” Pete corrected him. “Mariah only works here part-time.”

  Cade’s eyes narrowed over the slender female. She m
et his gaze without comment. He couldn’t help wondering why Joseph had left a valuable house to a part-time employee. Cynicism told him there had to be a reason and more than likely, the answer wouldn’t make him happy or reflect favorably on the pretty blonde. He shifted in his seat, annoyed that he was attracted to the woman who may have conned and used his father.

  “And Mariah is most likely the reason we’ve got such a low loss rate,” Pete said with pride. “She keeps track of the baby calves and makes sure they survive the first few weeks. She usually ropes J.T. into helping her so I guess he deserves some of the credit, too.”

  “My thanks to you both.” Cade’s words only brought a nod of acceptance from Mariah but the teenager shifted in his seat, faint streaks of red marking his cheekbones, clearly uncomfortable with both Pete’s praise and Cade’s thanks.

  “What about other livestock?” Cade queried.

  “There’s not much,” Pete told him. “A few saddle horses, a mule or two, and some chickens Joseph kept for the eggs.”

  Cade considered the news. “So what you’re telling me is that the ranch is running cattle, but not much else?”

  Pete exchanged glances with Mariah and J.T., then nodded.

  “What about field crops? I noticed alfalfa bales stacked and tarped in the flat next to the creek this afternoon. Was Dad planting oats or rye in the fields bordering the highway?”

  “Joseph stopped planting anything but alfalfa several years ago,” Pete told him. “Said he just couldn’t keep up with the work and he’d rather raise cattle.”

  Cade wondered how long the old man had been sick but didn’t ask. “And the Kigers? Are they still on Tunk Mountain?”

  Pete, J.T. and Mariah all wore identical expressions of blank confusion.

  “The Kigers?” J.T. repeated, stressing the last word rhyming with tiger as if the word were part of a foreign language. “What are Kigers?”

  “Mustangs,” Cade said. “My mother bred and raised them.”

  Pete shrugged. “I never heard Joseph mention them. Ain’t never been to Tunk Mountain, either. We kept the cattle closer to home.” He frowned. “Don’t remember chasing cattle on Tunk Mountain for roundup, either, come to think of it.” His shrewd blue eyes fixed on Cade. “If Joseph had a herd of horses on the mountain, he kept it a secret.”

  Cade shrugged. “Maybe he sold them years ago.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, boss,” Pete began, “we were wondering what plans you have for the Triple C?”

  “I’ll try to hold it together and pay the bills until my brothers are located and can get here,” he said brusquely, his tone grim. He hadn’t missed the tension that instantly gripped all three when Pete asked his question. He wasn’t going to lie or sugarcoat the truth. They’d stayed on the ranch without wages when they could have sought work elsewhere and they deserved nothing less than his honesty. “From what the attorney told me about the ranch’s financial situation, that won’t be easy.”

  “And what happens when your brothers arrive?” Mariah asked.

  “I guess we’ll decide if we’re going to sell out or try to hold the Triple C permanently.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll check on Jiggs and head up to the house.”

  “If Jiggs is the black, I fed and watered him, then put him in a stall in the barn,” J.T. told him. “He’s not a quarterhorse, is he?”

  “He’s Andalusian,” Cade explained. “I brought him home with me from Spain.” The look on the kid’s face told Cade that he was burning to ask questions, probably lots of questions, but Cade wasn’t in the mood to give him answers. He shoved back his chair and stood, carrying his bowl and utensils to the sink before recrossing the room to collect his hat and coat.

  “The attorney told me the estate hasn’t paid salaries since the old man died,” Cade said as he shrugged into his coat. “I’ll have to look at the books before paying you whatever salary you’re owed but if anyone needs an advance for the next few days, I have cash.”

  Relief lit the two men’s expressions.

  “I’m almost out of pipe tobacco. I could use fifty,” Pete told him.

  “Me, too,” J.T. added.

  “I can wait until you’ve had time to review the payroll accounts,” Mariah said. “They’re on Joseph’s desk in his office.”

  Cade nodded and took out his wallet, counting out bills before handing them to Pete and J.T.

  “Who’s been doing the bookkeeping?” he asked, sweeping a glance over the three.

  “Mariah,” Pete answered, gesturing at her. “She’s better at math than I am.”

  “Better than me, too,” J.T. put in.

  Mariah tucked her hair behind her ear and didn’t comment. Cade’s face had tightened at the other men’s comments and she didn’t have to be a mind reader to guess that her new boss wasn’t happy she’d been the one keeping track of the ranch’s financial records.

  “Come up to the house tomorrow morning,” Cade told her. “You can explain the system to me.”

  “I’m at the café until eleven but I should be home by noon.”

  He frowned. “You’re eating breakfast in town?”

  “No, I have the early shift tomorrow.”

  “You’re working in town and here—holding down two jobs?” His stare was piercing.

  She nodded but didn’t elaborate further. She wasn’t going to explain that without her waitress job, the three of them—her, Pete and J.T.—would have gone hungry over the last few months.

  Fortunately, Cade didn’t ask any more questions.

  “All right, stop in when you get back,” he said tersely.

  She swallowed a sigh of relief. “Sounds good. If there’s nothing else you need me for tonight, I’ll head for home. I have to be up at four o’clock.”

  “No,” he said brusquely. “There’s nothing else.”

  She said good-night and slipped into her coat, tugging on gloves as she stepped outside and halted on the porch to pull on a knit hat. To her surprise, Cade joined her, pulling the door closed behind him, shutting Pete and J.T. inside.

  Mariah glanced up at him, his face shadowy beneath the brim of his hat. “I turned up the heat in the ranch house earlier. We’ve kept the furnace set on low so the pipes wouldn’t freeze but it wasn’t enough to keep the rooms warm enough to be comfortable. And I put clean sheets on the bed in the front corner room upstairs,” she added.

  Cade glanced at her sharply. “Thanks,” he said.

  Her brown eyes searched his. “You’re upset that Joseph left me the house by the creek,” she said with calm certainty.

  Anger flared over the hard lines of his face but quickly disappeared.

  “I’m more interested in why he left it to you. It’s surrounded by Coulter acres and essentially landlocked.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “I have to drive past your house to get to the highway. Joseph said he was going to give it to me so I’d always have a home.” Because Joseph had known how badly she needed a place to belong, she thought. She’d drifted without an anchor in the years after her father died, the home of her childhood sold to pay medical bills long before his death.

  “And what did you do for him that earned you a house?” His voice was toneless yet Mariah felt his cynicism.

  She stiffened. “I rode fence, cared for newborn calves, cooked meals and valued his friendship. Joseph Coulter was a second father to me. He treated me with kindness, respect and consideration.” Her voice was cool but a thread of anger ran beneath her words.

  “Good to know he was a kind father to somebody.”

  The implication that Joseph hadn’t been one to his own sons was obvious.

  “I’m sorry if you didn’t feel the same about him,” she said stiffly.

  “I didn’t.” Cade was blunt. “He was a mean drunk who took his misery out on his sons. He started drinking after my mother died and got worse with each year that passed. As soon as Eli finished high school, we all left home to get
away from him. So, no, it’s fair to say Joseph Coulter never treated me or my brothers with kindness or respect.”

  Mariah caught her breath, stunned by the harsh words. She was more shocked, however, by the lack of emotion in Cade’s voice. He was as casual as if he were telling her his favorite food was a cheeseburger and fries. “That’s not the Joseph Coulter I knew,” she said softly. “He never drank during the years I worked here. I’m sorry.”

  “Why should you be sorry—it wasn’t your fault.” He waved a hand at the two shallow steps. “I’ll walk you to the cabin.”

  “You don’t have to,” she protested. “I walk home every night on my own.”

  “Well, now I’m here and you don’t have to walk alone.” His tone brooked no argument.

  “Very well.” Mariah gave in and moved down the steps ahead of him. As they followed the gravel road past the barn toward the creek and the cabin tucked into the trees, she was vividly aware of the big man prowling beside her. “Where did Ned Anderson finally locate you?” she asked, curious.

  “Mexico,” he replied, turning his head to look at her.

  “Really?” She met his gaze with surprise before her mouth curved in amusement. “I’m guessing you weren’t happy about leaving the warmth of Mexico for a chilly March in Montana.”

  “It was already getting hot there,” he said. “Too hot.”

  “What part of Mexico were you in?”

  “Chihuahua. I was working on a ranch—riding fence, working cattle.” He glanced around them, his gaze sweeping the moonlit pasture beyond the creek. “It’s a relief to be farther north with weather cold enough that I’ll need a jacket.”

  Mariah couldn’t help but smile at the satisfaction behind his words. “I hope that means you’ll stay here in Montana, on the ranch.”

  “I was born and raised here.” He turned his head, his gaze sweeping the horizon. “I’d like to stay on this land—maybe see my nieces or nephews grow up here.”

  “Nephews or nieces?” Curious, she searched his profile, etched by moonlight against the darker shadows of night. “Not your own son or daughter?”