The Reluctant Rancher

by Leigh Riker

  When Shadow glanced up, expectantly waiting, Blossom was already on her way out the door.

  “Thank you, but no.”

  She hurried away from the agency.

  She’d spent her life with people who said they cared about her but didn’t—her own parents, then Ken—and she wouldn’t make that mistake again. Logan had been clear. Shadow was wrong.

  Her baby was hers to protect. And hers alone.

  She had neared the local clinic when she saw a man coming out the door—and stopped. Was she seeing things? Still far enough away, she couldn’t make out his features, but he appeared tall enough and was built much the same way as Ken, enough to send a shiver down her spine. He wore a well-tailored, familiar-looking suit. His hair looked the exact color of Ken’s ash brown. And the confident walk that was almost a strut...had he found her? Asked about her at the clinic? Did he already know about the baby? How could he? Unless he’d gotten to Tammy again. Blossom turned to run.

  And slammed into Logan’s hard chest.

  He steadied her. “Whoa. The truck’s over this way.”

  She couldn’t speak. The whole morning had been awful, even Shadow’s unexpected sympathy and her offer to help when Blossom knew she couldn’t trust anyone. Now she was all but gasping.

  She wrenched away. There. Across the street, as Logan had said, she saw his truck. A few more steps with him behind her, already jangling his keys, and they could scramble in then lock the doors...

  Blossom didn’t check for traffic. She rushed into the street and another pickup suddenly flashed by, so close she could feel the heat from its metal side and the brush of air as it whizzed past. At the last second Logan yanked her out of harm’s way.

  “Easy,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ken.” It was the only word she could get out. Her heart thundered. All the weeks, the miles, the different towns... “I never should have stopped here. The longer I’ve stayed, the closer he’s come. Maybe he pressured Tammy again, though how could she know where I am now?” How could Ken?

  Logan looked up then down the street. “Your ex? Where?”

  Still short of breath, Blossom pointed.

  “That guy?” Logan drew her to him. “It’s okay, Blossom. I know him—that’s not Ken.”

  “Then who—”

  “I almost ran into him earlier. He’s a drug rep, works for one of the big pharmaceutical companies. He makes his rounds in Barren about once a month. He visits the clinic to drop off samples then heads for Doc’s place on Cottonwood Street. See?” He gestured, his arm around her, his body warm against her back. “He’s turning the corner now.”

  Blossom pressed against him. “I didn’t see his face...but he looked so familiar.”

  “It’s not him,” Logan said again.

  He held her close until she stopped shaking.

  Which didn’t change her mind.

  She had to leave. It didn’t matter whether other people cared for her or not. She couldn’t think about Logan’s aversion to her pregnancy.

  She needed to disappear again. Somewhere Ken would never find her.

  * * *

  AT THE CIRCLE H, Logan carried Blossom’s bag down to her car. In the upstairs window he could see Sam peering out, frowning. A few more minutes, and she’d be gone. If only he had reacted better to her pregnancy...

  There was nothing else to say. Those few minutes on the street in Barren when Blossom had thought she’d seen Ken were engraved on his mind. His reassurance hadn’t changed her decision. He shouldn’t want it to.

  Logan cleared his throat. “You’ll be okay?” Can’t I change your mind?

  Maybe Blossom leaving was for the best. Libby was being unreasonable, but he had to consider his relationship with his son.

  “I’ll be okay.” She rearranged her gear on the front seat of the old sedan.

  “This thing doesn’t look like it’ll take you ten miles from here.”

  “Darla is more reliable than she appears.”

  “Darla?” She’d even named her car. He wanted to smile but couldn’t.

  Blossom risked a glance at him. “Thank you for holding me up in town, but I’m not that much of a wimp, normally. I really can take care of myself.”

  “Shadow doesn’t think so. While you were upstairs, she called me.”

  She searched through a bag. “Where did I put my wallet?”

  He steeled himself not to beg her to stay. Sam’s face had disappeared from the window in his room and Logan could hear him now, coming down the steps. Sure enough, he barged out the front door, his eyes wild.

  Blossom straightened. “Sam, you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

  “I’m darned if I’ll lie flat on my back and listen to your car going down that driveway.” He pointed toward the road and took another shaky step.

  “Don’t you dare come down here,” she said.

  Sam only grunted.

  “Jack will probably be here soon. He’ll take good care of you.”

  “Not as good as you.”

  Blossom pressed her lips together. “Sam, please don’t make this any harder than it is.”

  He jerked a thumb toward Logan. “This his doing?”

  “No,” she said. “The decision is mine.”

  Sam swayed a little. He knew the bare facts about Ken. “You need a man to protect you. I’ve got rifles in my office gun safe, another in the front closet.”

  “It won’t come to that.” Blossom rummaged in her bag again. “Oh, here it is.” She opened her wallet, counted out bills then frowned. “I needed to pick up my pay in town. But then I panicked.”

  “You can get it tomorrow,” Sam said.

  Logan stepped in. “He’s right, Blossom. What’s the rush?”

  “You know,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

  “But that wasn’t Ken today. He isn’t here.”

  “You are.” She turned away. “We’ve both made ourselves understood. I need to do this—and I’m doing it now.”

  Not looking happy about that, she shut the car door. Blossom marched across the yard to the steps then climbed up to the porch. She hugged Sam tight.

  Her voice sounded choked. “Do what the doctors tell you—I mean that—and Logan. I hope Jack works out.”

  Sam didn’t respond. He stood there, swaying, watching her walk back down to her car, looking as lost as Logan already felt. He watched her slide into the driver’s seat then adjust her mirrors. Sam glared at him. “Do something, Flyboy.”

  “I can’t stop her.”

  “You won’t,” Sam muttered. “Both of you, durned fools.”

  Logan couldn’t disagree. This was it. He wanted to call her back, but he didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. He couldn’t pursue a relationship with her after the disaster he’d made of his marriage, and he couldn’t give Libby any reason to restrict his access to Nicky. They might both be fools, as Sam said, but he and Blossom had to deal with their problems on their own.

  Blossom started the engine.

  Panic clawed at his throat, and Logan put a hand on the open window frame.

  “Wait,” he said. “I forgot. I have something for you.”

  He ran past Sam into the house and upstairs, then up another flight to the attic. He came back down with two boxes piled one on top of the other.

  “Unlock your back door and I’ll slide these in. For your baby. They’re Nicky’s clothes I mentioned.”

  “You thought they were for—”

  “Your friend. Now they’re yours.”

  Things were changing, he thought. Even Sam was on his feet now for longer periods. Maybe within the next week or two, Logan could be in Wichita again, salvaging his job. And then he could concentrate on spending even more time with Nic
ky.

  He stood watching with Sam for another moment as her car sped down the driveway, which was as dry as an old cow’s skull now, before he turned his back on the sight, the cloud of dust, and went up the steps to help Sam inside the house.

  She was gone.

  His fault.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DONE DRIVING FOR the day, Blossom rented a motel room. She pulled one of the boxes from the backseat of her car. Surely, she imagined the scent rising from it, along with the attic dust, of Logan’s woodsy aftershave. Barely able to see over the top of the carton, she carried it from her parking space toward her room. The motel wasn’t much to look at, but it was cheap. And all she could afford without her pay.

  One night here, then she’d be on her way, still headed west. Today she’d covered a lot of miles. She was almost at the Kansas border, approaching the front range of the Rockies. Not for the first time she wished she’d made the effort to get her paycheck from Shadow then cash it before leaving town and the Circle H behind. But she hadn’t wanted to face Shadow again. To feel tempted to stay.

  And she’d felt the need to hurry. To get on the road before she changed her mind.

  Near the door to her room, she came to a dead stop. The blood rushed from her head to her feet. A tall, rangy-looking man stood there, blocking her way, with a broad smile Blossom didn’t trust. She’d seen Ken grin like that right before he pushed her, throttled her or slapped her for some unknown offense.

  “Let me take that for you.” This man had pale hair, and a stray lock flopped on his forehead. He wore a battered cowboy hat, a pearl-buttoned shirt with jeans and scuffed boots. Blossom tried to memorize every detail of his appearance in case she needed to make a police report. “Any more of these in the car?”

  “Just one. I can get it.” Wanting to run, she tried to move past him. This was what she’d decided, wasn’t it? To leave the Circle H and take care of herself? Prevent any danger from coming to the ranch? Run from Logan’s disapproval of her baby?

  The man tipped his hat back. “You one of those feminists?”

  “Not officially,” she said. “Why?”

  He frowned. “’Cause I notice you’re not letting me help you.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t need any help.”

  “Little thing like you, of course you do.” A second later he took the box from her hands, and Blossom’s heart began to pound.

  “Please. Leave me alone.”

  Instead, he turned to her room, deposited the box beside the door then faced her again. She could see no threat in his dark eyes, unlike Ken’s, which always seemed to hold an underlying danger. Blossom stayed several feet away. She was truly on her own now—and she hadn’t seen anyone else nearby. The motel office was around the corner in a better-lit section of the parking lot.

  “Come on,” the man said. “Looks like we’re the only two guests here tonight. I’ll get that last box—they’ll be okay by your door—then we can get a bite to eat in the restaurant across the way.” He tilted his head toward a café that wasn’t part of the motel. “Tell me you’re not hungry.”

  “I’m not—” Her stomach growled.

  He grinned. “I hear you are. My treat,” he said.

  Blossom decided he wasn’t going away. And in public, she’d be marginally safer, if it came to real trouble, than having him force his way into her room in this shadowed corner of the property.

  A few minutes later she was sitting across from him in a red upholstered booth under the bright overhead lights of the café. Staring out into the night, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. She looked so vulnerable and forced herself to sit up straighter, look more confident. “Where you headed?” he asked.

  “Nowhere in particular,” which wasn’t the wisest thing to say. Better to let him think someone was waiting for her. Somewhere. The Circle H popped into her head, the peacefulness she’d felt there, at least for a while. “I mean, my family...expects me tomorrow.”

  “Parents?”

  “My...husband, too.”

  He looked at her hand. “No ring.”

  “It’s being...resized. I’ve gained a little weight.”

  He moved a saltshaker on the table between them. “You’re having a baby. That’s one reason I tried to help you. Damsel in distress, and all that. I couldn’t watch you wrestle with those heavy boxes in your condition.”

  When the waitress came to take their orders, Blossom tried to catch her eye, but the woman’s attention was on the man across from her. Blossom chose a hamburger—she had a craving lately for beef—with a side of coleslaw. He ordered chicken-fried steak with gravy and grits.

  “What’s your destination?” she finally asked, the tension easing from her shoulders and the back of her neck. He hadn’t made any threatening moves so far, and she did feel lonely tonight. In the brightly lit restaurant, his company seemed almost welcome as long as he didn’t try anything.

  “Tulsa. Blew a tire on my truck an hour ago. Decided to stay the night here.”

  What would she do after they ate? Blossom polished off her meal then, stalling, let him talk her into dessert.

  He leaned back to study her, his arms crossed. With his shirtsleeves rolled back, she could see that, despite his leanness, he had a powerful build. “What are you running from, darlin’?”

  She tensed again. Could everyone see that in her?

  “Nobody.”

  “You had that panicky look about you.”

  Blossom pushed the last of her banana cream pie aside.

  She didn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t tell him about Ken, let him any deeper into her life.

  “Whatever it is,” he said, “traveling by yourself doesn’t seem the best idea.”

  “No,” she had to agree.

  He motioned for the check. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  He held out a hand to help her up from the booth.

  Outside the restaurant, Blossom breathed deeply of the spring night air. For a few brief moments it felt like the freedom she craved. But could she ever really find that as long as she knew Ken might be in pursuit?

  By the time they reached the motel, she’d stopped keeping so much distance between them. He hadn’t made a wrong move or pushed her to talk about her past. Maybe they really were just two strangers passing through and she had overreacted at first. Big-time.

  At her door he waited for Blossom to unlock it.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said.

  “My pleasure. Put the dead bolt on when you get inside. Not because of me,” he said. “Because of you. So you won’t feel afraid.” He hesitated. “You want some free advice?”

  Blossom wasn’t sure. She didn’t answer.

  “Go home, I’d say, but if not, good luck to you.”

  She didn’t have a home. There was no one waiting for her now. Her parents were in Alabama...or maybe not. She’d broken those ties a long time ago—or they had—after she moved in with Ken. But this man, as kind as he’d turned out to be, didn’t have to know that. She’d never see him again.

  “Night, Blossom. You take care.”

  “You, too.” For a few more moments after she went inside, she imagined him still standing outside her door.

  Then, like Logan, he was gone.

  * * *

  IN HER ROOM with the dead bolt on, Blossom sat alone with all the lights blazing, the draperies closed. Home, she thought. She’d never had one with Ken, just as she hadn’t with her father. The only connection to her former life was her one true friend. Tammy.

  Tomorrow she would repack her car. She’d check out of this cheap motel, drive on...to somewhere. Farther away from the Circle H. From Philadelphia. But tonight, there’d be no harm, no ri
sk, in making just one call. Blossom picked up the phone by the bed. It wouldn’t matter if Ken could somehow trace it. She’d paid cash for her room, and by then she’d be gone.

  A minute later she had Tammy on the line. It was so good to hear her, even when she said, “Blossom, I’m sorry. I can’t talk—”

  “Tammy, I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

  Her voice rose. “I’m not all right! Ken calls me at least once a week to put on the pressure. Have I heard from you again? Have I seen you? Do I know where you are?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you at risk.”

  “Well, you did. I don’t blame you for running from that guy. He’s crazy.” Tammy’s voice quavered. “I didn’t think you’d call again, but I’m almost glad you did. He hired a private detective, Blossom, who tracked you as far as the place where you sold your Lexus. If he could do that, maybe he can find you wherever you are. Make this the last time you call. For both our sakes.” Unable to say a word herself, Blossom was about to hang up when Tammy added, “Are you okay? The baby? Don’t tell me where you are but—”

  Blossom managed, “Still on the move,” then disconnected the call.

  Her hand shaking, she put the phone down. Now she knew for sure. She’d lost her best friend, her last link to Philly.

  What was left? Blinking back tears, she opened one of the boxes Logan had given her. It was filled to the brim with beautiful baby clothes. The labels were all well-known, high-end brands. Nicholas Hunter had started life with a killer wardrobe. Now her child could, too. It was like getting an entire layette for free.

  Still trembling after her call to Tammy, Blossom laid out the one-piece suits and sleepers and little pants and tops with elephants, giraffes, puppies—and airplanes—on them. Of those, she liked the sunny yellow ones most, especially a tiny bathrobe with ducks on it.

  At the bottom of the second carton, which contained slightly larger clothes, she found another, smaller box bound with white satin ribbon. Inside were what appeared to be mementos, and she almost closed it again, not wanting to intrude on another person’s cherished memories. But something stopped her. The need to share a part of Logan’s life?