by Amelia Rose
Silver River Romeo
Rancher Romance Series: Book 1
Amelia Rose
Visit www.ameliarose.info
Dedication
To YOU, The reader.
Thank you for your support.
Thank you for your emails.
Thank you for your reviews.
Thank you for reading and joining me on this road.
Contents
Dedication
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Copyright
Chapter One
Cole McKenna tilted his hat down further over his eyes and squinted into the sun, trying to see the empty ranch from the edge of his own property. His horse shifted impatiently beneath him and he patted his neck.
“Easy, Sheriff,” he said absently. “I know we’ve got work to do. Give me a second, all right?”
The bay snorted, but it remained still. Cole couldn’t blame him. He had probably made Sheriff make the long trek a bit too often over the last year. He didn’t have the chance to make it as frequently as he actually wanted to though as it wasn’t exactly a short ride from his own ranch. The Silver River Ranch, which he shared and ran with his brothers, wasn’t small. Even with a ride to the very edge of it, he couldn’t really see much of Raven Branch from here and what he saw was never interesting. Nothing much happened in the driveway of a ranch after all.
He’d used the recent storm as an excuse to come out here today. He’d told Marshall, his older brother, he would check the fence for damage. He had actually done that, but then he’d steered his horse over to the edge of the perfectly fine perimeter fence and looked at what had been the Carson ranch.
Marshall probably would have been as impatient with him as the horse was. There was always something to be done on a ranch and Marshall took it all very seriously, but Cole couldn’t help it. Raven Branch had been empty ever since Hank Carson had died last winter. His kids had headed off to the city years ago but even without anyone to help him work the ranch, the man hadn’t let one square inch of the place sell. He knew his kids were selling when he was gone, he’d said as much to Cole a few years ago. He wanted to enjoy it while he could.
Cole sighed. He hated to see the place go. Hank Carson had worked long and hard to keep it up and running smoothly and it was a shame to watch it all go to waste. Even the driveway, which was all he could see from where he sat, looked neglected. Cole realized it was a little depressing to be here this late in the evening, with the sinking sun illuminating all that great land going to seed from lack of someone to work it.
He was turning to ride back home when he saw a big black truck kicking up dust in the Carson’s long drive. There was a big orange U-haul hooked to the truck. It looked like someone had managed to buy the place, after all.
Cole brought the horse to a stop and leaned forward, listening to the leather of Sheriff’s saddle creak but he couldn’t see anything without jumping the fence and riding closer. Although he wasn’t discounting the idea entirely, he’d have to meet the neighbors at some point after all. However, he knew better than to try it today. The sun was already sinking lower than he’d realized and he still had his job to do. He steered the horse back to the western cow pasture to start rounding the animals up.
It wasn’t too hard to do, at least not today, and the job was soon done. He put Sheriff in the barn closest to the house and brushed him down quickly before dumping out some oats for his supper and rubbing his nose. He usually spent a bit more time with the animal after such a long ride, but he was anxious to talk with his brothers about the latest news.
He walked across the front yard and hopped the small white fence surrounding the sprawling farm style house. There was a gate, but something about hopping the fence always reminded him of being a kid again. If his mama had been alive, she’d be telling him to use the sense God gave him and come through the gate. Cole thought that maybe he did it to keep her close, too.
She had passed away when he was fourteen. Darrell had been ten and Marshall seventeen. Even though they and their dad had all done their best with it, the house was obviously lacking a woman’s touch. The pretty rose garden had turned nearly wild from neglect. The white paint on the picket fence was chipped and peeling from the hot sun and the paint on the house was no better. Twelve years was a long time for anything to go without maintenance.
Cole walked up the steps and crossed the wide front porch to the screen door, which he let bang behind him. He was surprised to find his younger brother in the kitchen, but then he realized that Darrell was most likely just out of food and probably not likely to be here to socialize. He didn’t tend to keep his own place very well stocked on perishables. Half the time, he seemed surprised by the very thought of going to the grocery store. The suspicion that he was hungry was confirmed when Cole saw the array of sandwich items on the counter. Well, it was a good a supper as any, Cole supposed. He grabbed a plate and put two slices of bread on it.
“Somebody bought the Carson place,” Cole said as he began layering meat and cheese.
“Saw it,” Darrell acknowledged as he held his hand out for the mustard Cole had just picked up.
“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked, slightly annoyed. It wasn’t as though he’d advertised the fact he was curious about Raven Branch, but he still felt like his brother could have passed along the news at some point.
“When does he ever?” Marshall demanded as he walked in. “Where’s mine?”
“Same place mine was,” Cole shot back. “In pieces on the counter.”
Darrell shot him a quick grin and headed toward the back door.
“Hang on just a second there, Darrell,” Marshall commented while topping off his sandwich.
Darrell paused just outside the door and raised an eyebrow.
”Thought we’d head into town tomorrow, if you’re free,” Marshall finished.
Darrell nodded and headed across the field to the renovated barn he’d lived in since the age of eighteen.
“There’s his socialization for the month,” Marshall said. He then turned to Cole. “And what about you? Feel up to heading in?”
“Yeah,” Cole agreed around a big mouthful of dry sandwich. He’d forgotten the mustard. He pried the sandwich open again and added a generous amount before he went on, “Don’t know why you bother asking. You know you’re gonna make us go.”
“Old habits die hard,” Marshall said with a shrug. “I grew up having to be polite to you. I can’t do anything about it now.”
Cole laughed and walked out to the wraparound porch with his food. The setting sun lit the mountains up in a way he liked. It reminded him of bonfires and long summers. He moved his chair closer and propped his booted feet up on the porch rail. All he really needed to do to complete the picture was tip his hat forward over his eyes. He grinned at the thought, but he put his hat on his outstretched legs.
He’d expected to be totally content with his mediocre sandwich and great view. It had been a pretty long day. Actually, it seemed like they all were and this was his favorite way to relax after them. But he didn’t seem to be able to relax this evening.
The reason for his discontent hit him like a punch in the gut as a stray thought darted through his mind. He wished he’d had the m
oney to get the Carson place. He’d known better than to really spend any time hoping for it when it stood empty so he reasoned with himself that there was no point being upset over it now. Silver River was doing as well as it ever did. That wasn’t bad by any means, but the steady business just wasn’t enough to allow him to support two ranches.
Cole swallowed the resentment that fluttered to the surface with a long drink of the beer he’d grabbed on the way out of the kitchen. Darrell had been kind enough to leave two. He hoped Marshall didn’t want the other one because he really didn’t want to walk down to Darrell’s barn for a second drink. Anyway, there was nothing to really be resentful of. His father had left the house and the ranch in equal shares to all three boys. It was extremely fair and Cole seemed to be the only one who had a problem being tied to the ranch like they were.
Marshall had been born to run a ranch and that was why neither Darrell nor Cole had had a problem letting him take the reins when their father had a massive heart attack and dropped dead in the field three years ago. Darrell didn’t mind the ranching either, as long as it didn’t interfere with his rodeo riding. Marshall always made sure it didn’t because he was damn good at everything. Darrell might be the only second shift rancher in history. Cole realized he was frowning and his shoulders were tense and he sighed. Some relaxing evening, he thought. What the hell was his problem lately anyway?
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ranch. He did. He loved ranching. He just didn’t want to ranch the way Marshall did. Marshall wanted to keep everything the same. Silver River had baled hay and ranched cattle since the McKenna clan had claimed the land. And Cole was tired of it.
What was wrong with horses, for God’s sake? Or corn? Or soy? How many times had he pointed out to Marshall that soy products were on the rise? Marshall had just nodded and gone back to doing things the way his father had done them.
Cole vowed that tomorrow would be different. They were going to town. He could show his older brother the prices on soy and get estimates for the profit. Maybe he could even convince Marshall to let him clear the back field. He felt some of the tension disappear as he began to plan his arguments. There might yet still be time to salvage his passion for the life he was stuck in.
Chapter Two
The next morning, they ate a small breakfast and then headed to the barn to force Darrell out of bed and pick up Cole’s truck, which was parked in the shed near the barn.
“Wake up!” Cole yelled from the doorway of the renovated barn.
“You know that doesn’t work,” Marshall said as he bit back a yawn. “Go get him.”
“You go get him,” Cole insisted defiantly.
“I’m going to get the truck.”
“It’s my truck!” Cole said indignantly. “You’re just scared of the hayloft.”
“I am not scared of the hayloft! It’s just that I know construction isn’t exactly Darrell’s thing.”
They both carefully eyed what had been the hayloft and what was now the second floor of Darrell’s “house”.
“Well, hell,” Cole finally said. “He lives in it. It can’t be that bad.”
“So go on,” Marshall prompted with a gesture toward the stairs.
“You go on.”
In the end, they both shouted for him at the same time and eventually they heard footsteps moving across the floor. He didn’t speak, which wasn’t unusual but he did give them both a malevolent glare as he stumbled for the coffee pot.
“If you wanted coffee, you should have woken up earlier,” Marshall said.
Darrell poured water into the pot without answering.
“Or, we could get coffee in town,” Marshall pointed out.
Darrell continued ignoring their suggestions as he plugged the coffee pot in and reached into a cabinet for a cup.
“Guess we can get coffee right here, too,” Cole said with a grin.
He couldn’t help it. He loved both his brothers, but Darrell was his favorite. For somebody who never talked, Darrell said a lot. Marshall sighed and held his hand out. Cole shrugged and dropped his keys into Marshall’s palm.
“Careful with her,” he cautioned. “I’ve been meaning to get her tuned up.”
“I’ll treat your truck like a lady,” Marshall assured him somewhat sarcastically.
“Not too much, though,” Cole said as Marshall walked out. “I seem to remember it’s been awhile since you’ve been out on the town!”
Marshall’s only reply was the slamming of the barn door. A ghost of a smile flickered over Darrell’s face. A few moments later, he handed Cole a cup of coffee. Cole opened a cabinet door and frowned.
“Where’s the sugar? Honest to God, Darrell, you rearrange stuff more than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Over there,” Darrell said, after he’d swallowed his own sip of black coffee. “Don’t use it much. No reason for it to be in front.”
“This is your way of saying you don’t value my company, isn’t it?” Cole pretended to be hurt.
“You don’t come out here much,” Darrell said seriously as Cole added several spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee. “That’s too much sugar.”
“That’s not possible,” Cole said, pointing at his younger brother as he took a sip. “It’s just right.”
“Might as well drink pancake syrup for breakfast,” Marshall said as he stepped back into the barn. “Now, if Darrell has forgiven me for the unpardonable sin of waking him up, can we get a move on?”
“You really do need a tune up, don’t you?” Marshall said when the grinding noise in the engine and the loud pop as the truck backfired shattered the quiet morning.
“It’s not that bad.” Cole defended his truck as they bounced along the rutted track. “Just the shocks mostly.”
“What about the backfiring?” Darrell asked from the small back seat.
“Nothing wrong with calling attention to a good truck like this. Anyway, that only happens when you start it up. And I don’t see either one of you volunteering to drive.”
“I’d have driven if you wanted to ride in the bed of the truck,” Marshall said. “Might have been quieter.”
“Very funny.”
The store was pretty deserted when Cole pulled his truck into the parking lot.
“Nobody here,” Darrell grunted as he got out.
“The store’s open,” Marshall said defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with an early start. Cole and I do it every morning. We’ve spoiled you by letting you sleep in every morning and miss the milking.”
“Rodeo runs late,” Darrell said as he defended himself.
“You weren’t at a rodeo last night,” Marshall pointed out.
“Okay, come on,” Cole said. “Let’s not argue. Parking lots are supposed to be happy places.”
Darrell gave him a half smile and headed for the store.
“What’re you picking on him for?” Cole asked as he fell into step with his older brother.
“Hell, I don’t know,” Marshall admitted. “I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess.”
“Great,” Cole muttered as Marshall lengthened his stride and walked into the store. “Maybe I picked the wrong day.”
He didn’t have a choice though. There wouldn’t be another day, and he needed to step up and take some ownership of Silver River before he lost his mind with boredom. He hurried to catch up.
“So, I was thinking…,” Cole started.
“Good for you,” Marshall answered when Cole didn’t go on. “How’s it working out?”
“Bite me,” Cole responded jokingly. “I was thinking that we might plant something different this year.”
“Yeah,” Darrell chimed in. “Because wheat and hay are useless.”
“I’m not saying we can’t plant wheat and hay. I’m just saying we could use the east parcel for something different,” Cole said, trying not to let irritation creep into his voice.
Marshall looked up from calculating prices and raised an eyebrow at Cole. “
Like what?” he asked.
“Like soy.”
“Soy.” Marshall said in an unimpressed tone.
“Yeah, soy,” Cole answered in an attempt to defend his reasoning.
“Why would we want to do that?” Marshall asked. “I don’t know the first thing about growing soy.”
“I do. It’s not really that different from growing anything else,” Cole pointed out when Marshall looked skeptical about his knowledge of growing soy.
“Is there even a market for that stuff?”
“Yes! There’s a huge market for it,” Cole pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pulled up the article he’d read a few days back. “See?”
“Probably won’t last long,” Marshall said after a cursory glance at the Web page.