The Rancher's Christmas Star
Autor
Stella Bagwell
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12
Chapter One
Quint Hollister was wasting his time. He’d come to that conclusion even before he made the half-hour drive from Stone Creek Ranch to the small town of Beaver, Utah. But he’d promised the woman he’d meet with her, and he wasn’t a man who broke his word.
Yet now as he sat at a small table in the Wagon Spoke Café, waiting for her to arrive, he wondered again what had possessed him to pick up the phone two days ago and call her. She wasn’t what he was looking for, or needed. But he was desperate. Yeah, he could admit that much. Desperate to prove to his family and himself that he’d grown into a responsible man.
“How about a piece of pie while you’re waiting, Quint? It’s Tuesday. That means rhubarb is on the menu.”
Quint glanced up at the middle-aged waitress with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. “Maybe later, Laverne. I’ll take a little warm-up on the coffee, though.”
“Sure.” She tilted the glass carafe over his coffee cup. “You or your brothers haven’t been around in the past few days. Been busy at the ranch?”
“Always. Dad just made a deal for the property joining our north boundary, so come next week we’ll be taking over the C Bar C ranch.”
Surprised flickered on the waitress’s weary face. “The Carters sold out? Guess that news is slow making it here to the café.”
“Yeah, the family is moving to Montana. Dad is like a kid with a new toy. He’s eyed that property for years.”
“Good for him. Next time Hadley comes in I’ll congratulate him on his new toy.”
Quint chuckled. “He’ll like that.”
She moved on to the next table and Quint picked up his coffee cup, while his gaze slipped toward the front of the café where a wooden door painted a bright green served as the entrance. With only five minutes to spare before their two o’clock meeting, he expected the woman to show any moment now.
Ten minutes later, he was taking another long sip of coffee and pondering the idea of signaling Laverne and telling her to go ahead and get the pie, when the cowbell over the door clanged.
Above the busy tables of afternoon diners, Quint watched a woman enter the busy café and walk over to a long bar located on the left side of the room. From his angle, she appeared to be somewhere in her thirties, and she was dressed in jeans and a faded yellow shirt. A long black braid hung over her right shoulder.
No. False alarm, Quint decided. This lady was the right age, but the rest of her didn’t fit his expectations.
Even so, he continued to watch as she moved down the bar to where Ruby was wiping down a spot on the counter. After a brief exchange of words, the redheaded waitress pointed directly at Quint.
His mind whirling, he watched the woman slowly weave her way through the tables until she reached him. By then he’d accepted the obvious and quickly jumped to his feet.
Politely sweeping off his gray Stetson, he greeted her.
“Hello. I’m Quint Hollister,” he introduced himself. “Are you Clementine Starr?”
“I am,” she replied.
He extended his hand to her while thinking he had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be the same woman who’d sent him a résumé for the sheepherding job on Stone Creek Ranch.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, while hoping he didn’t sound as dazed as he felt.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Hollister.”
Her hand closed around his, and even though her palm wasn’t soft and pampered it was far from the hard calloused skin he expected from someone in her profession.
He said, “You can drop the Mr. Hollister. I’m Quint to everyone. Especially with there being six Hollister men in my family.”
He released her hand, then jamming his hat back onto his head, he rounded the table and pulled out a chair for her. After helping her into the worn wooden seat, he returned to his own chair and tried his best to look cool and casual.
She said, “I apologize for keeping you waiting. I thought I’d started early enough this morning to be here by two, but I ran into highway construction.”
Smiling had always come naturally to Quint. Especially when he was around women, but now his face felt oddly twisted as he attempted to smile at Clementine Starr.
It’s the shock, he tried to reason. When a man was knocked off-kilter, he couldn’t expect to instantly get his senses back together. Especially when he was looking into a pair of dark brown eyes fringed by long black lashes.
He said, “Yes, I’ve heard the interstate is being resurfaced in places. No need for you to apologize, Ms. Starr. I’ve only been here a few minutes. And sitting in the Wagon Spoke and drinking coffee is hardly a pain.”
“Please call me Clementine,” she said, then glanced over at the waitress, who was still making rounds with the coffee carafe.
Following her gaze, he said, “I’ll get Laverne’s attention. Have you had lunch? The food here is great. I’ll be glad to buy your lunch.”
“Thank you. I’ve already had lunch. But I would like coffee,” she told him.
Laverne suddenly glanced in his direction, and he waved a finger at her. She immediately crossed the room to their table.
Inclining his head toward Clementine, he said to Laverne, “This is Clementine Starr, and she’s just made a long drive from Idaho. So bring her the freshest, hottest coffee you have.”
“I’ll make a fresh pot just for you two,” she said to Quint, then turned her attention to Clementine. “Welcome to Beaver, Ms. Starr. Would you like a menu with your coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
Quint said, “You can bring me that pie now, Laverne. Make it the rhubarb. It might be a while before I’m back in here on Tuesday or Wednesday.”
“Gotcha covered,” she told him. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Laverne scurried away, and Quint turned his attention back to Clementine. “First of all,” he said. “I want to thank you for making the long drive down here. I’m sure it was an inconvenience for you.”
Those dark, dark eyes scanned his face, and Quint had the uneasy feeling that she could see right into his brain. If so, she’d already realized that he was totally mesmerized by her smooth olive complexion, black hair and full pink lips that had yet to get remotely close to a smile.
“Not really. I enjoyed the drive through Utah. Like I told you on the phone, I’m in between jobs. And I’ve been wanting to find work away from Idaho.”
“Why do you want to leave the state?”
He was trying not to stare, but she was so unlike anything he’d pictured in his mind. Being a sheepherder was a damned hard job. In fact, she was the first and only female one he’d ever heard of, and he’d instinctively assumed she’d be a rough, muscular woman with large hands, leathery skin and hair that was dulled and dried from working in the elements. Instead, she was soft and earthy and downright feminine.
Her expression remained stoic. “I’ve had an urge to see a different set of mountains and valleys. Especially when they’ll be my home for several months out of the year.”
Why would a woman who was as young and pretty as Clementine Starr want to bury herself in the mountains for two-thirds of the year? he wondered. From her résumé he knew she’d been sheepherding for the past eight years. She was now thirty-four, which made her seven years older than Quint. And for some odd reason, the age difference made him feel a bit of a greenhorn.
“To be honest, Clementine, I can’t imagine myself doing what you do. When I was twenty-six, I sure as heck didn’t want to be alone with nothing but sheep, dogs and horses for company.”
Her gaze slipped over his face. “And how long ago were you twenty-six?” she asked.
He chuckled. “A year ago.”
The corners of her mouth bent slightly upward. It was the first congenial expression she’d shown him since they’d met.
“Well, I’m a solitary kind of person,” she explained. “The reason I do what I do is that I love being with the sheep and my dogs and horses.”
Solitude was nice, he thought. And so was being around the animals. But a woman who looked like her—were those things all she needed in life?
“Sure,” he said with a wan smile. “Animals often make better companions. They don’t ask much from us, and in return they give us their devotion and love.”
“Yes. It’s a fulfilling job. At least, it is for me,” she said. “But as for moving on from Idaho—the last rancher I worked for lost his grazing lease, and because he didn’t own enough private property to run his sheep year-round, he was forced to sell out.”
“That’s too bad.”
She nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s a situation that’s happening more and more.”
He said, “I’m happy to say Stone Creek has plenty of acreage to run sheep year-round. We don’t have to lease.”
“Lucky you.”
Was that a touch of bitterness or sarcasm he heard in her voice? Because she’d been forced to move on from the last ranch she’d worked? No. From the way her résumé had read, she was a typical sheepherder, a nomad living in one place for a while, then migrating to another. She was accustomed to moving on.
“I’ll be honest,” he told her. “For the past several months I’ve been searching for the right, uh, person for the job. I’ve gone through a stack of applicants and actually interviewed three of them. None felt like the right fit for Stone Creek. So here I am at the late end of grazing season without a sheepherder.”
She was about to reply when Laverne arrived with the coffee and pie.
“I brought two pieces of pie,” the waitress explained as she placed the orders on the table. “Just in case Ms. Starr decides she’d like a bite. If not, I know you can eat two pieces, Quint.”
He gave the woman a grateful grin. “Without batting an eye. Thanks, Laverne.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
As she moved away from the table, Quint looked over to see Clementine was studying him closely. Was she thinking he was too young to be in charge of the sheep production on Stone Creek? Or too young to be her boss?
Hell, Quint, Clementine Starr’s opinion of you has nothing to do with anything. You’re the one in charge of this whole matter. Not her.
Mentally shaking away the taunting voice in his head, he pushed one of the servings of pie toward her. “You were about to say something?”
“Only that we’re in similar positions. Earlier in the year I had a job offer on a ranch over by Boise, but it didn’t exactly fit what I wanted. So here I am without a job and the season is nearly over. Frankly, I’m surprised you want to hire anyone for only a couple of months or so.”
He sliced his fork into the pie while his gaze slipped from her face to her yellow shirt. The fabric was soft and faded from endless washings and molded to the lush curves of her breasts. A tiny silver cross rested in the hollow at the base of her throat while small silver hoops hung from her ears. She was sexy without even trying to be, he thought. And she was also waking up every male cell in his body.
He took a bite of the pie in hopes the taste would distract his rattled senses. “I’ve had plans for a long while now to increase the flock on Stone Creek, but I can’t do that until I get a sheepherder. I was hoping whoever I hired would be willing to pick up the job again in early spring. Or perhaps stick through the winter—if I can afford the extra salary.”
“How are you currently taking care of your sheep?”
“With dogs, mostly. Two Great Pyrenees. They never leave the herd. Then someone makes a daily check. Usually me or one of the ranch hands. But now that the flock is up in the mountains that takes up a huge hunk of time. And we all have to deal with other ranching chores.”
“I imagine you have bears and coyotes,” she said. “What about wolves? Any problem with those?”
“Wolves are practically extinct in Utah, although there are a few sightings from time to time. We have plenty of bears, coyote packs and rattlesnakes. But our ranch has run sheep and cattle both since it began back in 1962, and my father can tell you that over the years we’ve not lost many animals to predators. Blizzards and diseases are far more deadly to the herds.”
She nodded. “I understand. And just in case you’re wondering, I always carry a Winchester with me—just in case I have to deal with predators. As for diseases, I can spot and treat most ailments that sheep have.”
She named off several health issues she commonly encountered and how she normally dealt with them. Quint had to admit he was impressed with her knowledge. But did wisdom and experience make up for her physical disadvantage? Not that she was fragile by any means. Just guessing, he’d say she was close to five foot five. As to her weight, he decided it wasn’t too much or too little. It was just right and in all the places it should be.
“Whatever made you want to be a sheepherder?” he asked.
Shrugging, she glanced away from him, and Quint’s gaze instinctively slipped over her profile. In the past several minutes, since she’d joined him at the table, he’d noticed that very little expression showed on her face. Whether she wanted to keep her feelings hidden, or simply didn’t express them outwardly, he could only wonder.
“I’ve always loved sheep. My father always kept a flock on our ranch and that’s how I learned to care for them. Most people think sheep are dumb and docile, but the old saying ‘as gentle as a lamb’ isn’t always right. Some can be downright aggressive. But that’s just a part of nature. Every living thing has to be tough and smart to survive.”
He smiled at her. “My grandfather would love hearing you say that. He’s the reason we raise sheep. Does your father still run sheep on his ranch?”
“No. He’s dead. The ranch is under different ownership now.”
Her voice was stiff, and Quint realized he’d touched on a sore spot. But how was he to know? Up until the phone call he’d had with her a couple days ago, he’d never spoken to this woman. Still, with each passing minute, he was growing more and more intrigued with her.
“I’m sorry. He must have died a young man.”
“Yes. Too young.”
Clearing his throat, he pointed his fork toward the pie. “Go ahead and eat it. You’ll be glad you did.”
She looked from him to the pie. “Is this part of the job interview?”
The question was the closest thing she’d come to humor, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “It is. So eat up and enjoy.”
She pulled the small plate with the pie toward her and forked into the flaky crust. As he watched her slip the bite between her lips, he felt like he was watching an erotic film. One that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from.
“Pardon me if I’m getting too personal, but do you have Basque in your family ancestry?”
Her gaze lifted from the pie and settled on his face. “Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask? Because I work as a sheepherder?”
His question had nothing to do with her being a sheepherder. No, it had everything to do with the dark mystic aura that swirled around her. As though she’d ascended from those great European mountains.
“No. It was just a thought. That’s all.” His gaze traveled to her hand that was holding the fork. The back, along with her fingers, was tanned brown with the nails clipped short. There were no rings on either hand, and he wondered if she ever wore jewelry. More specifically had she ever had a wedding band encircling that important finger on her left hand?
Why that question should be entering his head, Quint didn’t know. At twenty-seven, he was years away from wanting a wife. Besides, his taste didn’t run toward older women. His date book was filled with names and numbers of women who were far younger than him. Even so, something about Clementine was certainly waking up his libido.
“How much longer do you expect the grazing to last in the mountains on Stone Creek? If you usually have early snows, there’s no use in hiring anyone. Unless you want the flock to be guarded while they’re down on the lower flats.”
Her remark pulled him out of his erotic thoughts, and he purposely downed a swig of coffee to give himself a moment to collect his senses.
“It’s hard to predict the weather here. Sometimes we get early snows and lots of them. Other times it’s dry and warmer than usual. Presently, I’d guess there might be two or two and a half months of grazing left in the mountains. And like I said, hiring someone to shepherd year-round is a nice idea. I’m just not sure I can swing the extra cost. Stone Creek sheep are only produced for their wool. None are sold for meat purposes. And I’m not sure how the market will be faring come spring and shearing time.”
“But in spite of the current market, you want to increase your herd?”
A grin twisted his lips. “I’m contradicting myself, aren’t I? But to answer your question, yes. In spite of what the wool market is doing I want to increase the number of sheep on Stone Creek. The way I see things, you have to have ample product in order to make a decent profit.”
“Yes. And I imagine you’re smart enough to know that ranching involves risk—of all sorts.”
Like hiring a woman who had a man thinking of hot nights and sweaty sheets. Yeah, being near Clementine would be a risk, he thought. But even if he hired her—and that was still a big if—he wouldn’t be around her long enough to be tempted. Besides, he got the impression she wasn’t interested in striking up any kind of relationship with a man.
“Ranching is never easy,” he replied as he sliced the last bit of pie on the saucer into two bites. “I don’t think you mentioned this in your résumé, but do you have a camp trailer, or wagon to live in? The ranch doesn’t have anything suitable for portable living quarters, but I suppose I might come up with something. That is, if we come to terms and I hire you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said abruptly.
His eyes widened. “Oh. You’ve already decided this job isn’t for you?”
A slight frown creased the space between her black brows. “I didn’t say anything of the sort. I said it wouldn’t be necessary to supply me with living quarters. I use a pack horse to carry my tent and other supplies. I’ll have everything I need.”
If she’d reached over and shoved him out of his chair, he couldn’t have been more stunned. He glanced around him as if he needed to reassure himself that he wasn’t hallucinating. “You’re not joking are you?”
Her expression went blank as she stared at him. “No. Why would I joke?”
To lighten the moment? To make both of them feel easier? Or just to simply be happy in the moment? He wanted to toss the suggestions at her, but he knew none of them would go over well. No. Clementine Starr was not only the dark mysterious sort, she was also the serious sort.
“Sorry,” he said. “You took me by surprise, that’s all. For me, a tent would be roughing it. And if a bear did happen to come along at night, you wouldn’t have any protection.”
“Like I told you, I’ll have my Winchester. As for roughing it, I don’t need luxuries. Just a shelter.”
Certain his mouth was gaping, he reached for his coffee in hopes of hiding his reaction. “Have you always worked this way?”
“Always. Except one time. A ranch I worked for already owned a sheepherder’s wagon and the manager insisted I use the thing. I didn’t like it. I felt boxed in. And it was a pain to move whenever I needed to drive the sheep to another meadow.”
“I see,” he said, but frankly he didn’t understand. Not completely. This beautiful woman preferred to sleep on the ground and cook over a campfire. She’d have to bathe from a basin or in a nearby creek. No electricity or phone service. No Wi-Fi or TV. If she was lucky a tiny portable radio might pick up a weather report or a bit of music, but the mountain ranges usually knocked out the signal. No, he thought, it would be just Clementine, the animals and nature.
She said, “Doubt is written all over your face. And I’m getting the feeling that I’m wasting my time and yours.”
Annoyed now, he frowned at her. “I didn’t say that, you did.”
“Look, I came here not expecting much. Some ranch owners just can’t handle hiring a female sheepherder, and that’s okay with me. I understand their thinking.” She put down her fork and looked directly at him. “Furthermore, I’d hate to think you might feel obliged to hire me just because I am a woman. So either way I can’t see this meeting turning out well for either of us.”
“Listen, Clementine, you’re assuming far too much. Yes, because you are a woman I do wonder about you being able to handle the job. I think that’s only fair. It’s not like I’m hiring you to knit me a blanket.”
A grimace tightened her lips, and Quint was actually glad to see her showing some real emotion.
“No. I’m the person who guards your sheep in order for you to have the wool to make a blanket,” she said flatly.
Hell, she had him there. “Okay, Clementine, I apologize for questioning your ability. It’s not even your ability that I’m doubting. I’ve carefully read your résumé. Every rancher you’ve worked for has glowing words for your work.” He shrugged, and to his surprise he felt warm heat climbing up his neck and onto his face. “I guess I’m having trouble picturing you in the role of sheepherder because of my mother and three sisters. They’re all hardy women and not afraid of work. Including outdoor work. But none of them could handle your job. Heck, I’m not sure I could handle it.”
She eyed him skeptically. “I’m different, Quint. I learned how to be tough a long time ago.”
Why? he wondered. And why did he have the ridiculous urge to reach over and cover her hand with his? Why did he want to see her smile? Hear her laugh. None of those things had anything to do with her job experience or his need of a sheepherder.
He released a long breath. “All right. If it’s agreeable with you, I’ll talk it over with my family tonight and give you my decision in the morning. If you need a place until then, you’re welcome to come out to the ranch.”
“Thank you, but I already have a hotel room reserved here in town.” She rose to her feet, and once he’d followed suit, she reached to shake his hand.
“I appreciate your consideration, Quint. I’ll be waiting for your call in the morning.”
Without saying more, she dropped his hand and walked away. Quint stared after her until she stepped through the green door and disappeared from his sight.
“Hmm. You don’t see that too often.”
Laverne’s comment penetrated his whirling thoughts, and he glanced blankly up at the waitress.
“You don’t see what too often?”
She pointed to Clementine’s partially eaten pie. “A person leave pie behind,” she answered. “Guess your lady friend wasn’t in the mood for dessert.”
Shaking his head, he asked, “Laverne, do I look like a fool?”
“I’ve seen a few in my day, but I wouldn’t put you in that category just yet. Why? The lady from Idaho got your goat?”
It wasn’t his goat he was worried about, Quint thought. It was the welfare of several hundred head of sheep.
Slanting the woman a wry grin, he said, “No. She didn’t make me angry. I’m just wondering, that’s all.”
Laverne said, “Me, too. Wondering why she seemed so sad.”
He looked curiously at the waitress. “Is that the way you saw her? Sad?”
“Well, let’s just say she isn’t the jolliest person I’ve seen in this café,” she said, then lifted the coffee carafe. “Need another warm-up?”
“No thanks, I need to get back to Stone Creek.” Rising to his feet, he tucked a nice tip into the pocket on her apron. “See you later, Laverne.”
While Quint was on his way home, Clementine was across town in her modest hotel room, sitting on the side of the bed, tapping out a text message to her brother, Kipp.
Have met with Mr. Hollister. He’s nice, but seriously young. Not certain he wants to hire me.
After pushing the send arrow, she placed the phone to one side, then lay back against the mattress.
If Quint Hollister decided not to hire her, she could certainly live with his decision, Clementine thought. On the other hand, if his call in the morning turned out to be positive, how was she going to react?
What in heck is wrong with you, Clementine? You’ve driven nearly four hundred miles to see the man about the job. Now you’re wondering whether you want it? You’re not making sense.
Closing her eyes, she pressed fingertips to the burning lids and tried to block out the nagging voice in her head. She supposed she wasn’t making sense, but something had happened to her back there in the Wagon Spoke Café. The moment the waitress at the bar had pointed out Quint Hollister, she’d been knocked off-kilter. She’d been expecting an older, grizzled rancher, not a young, hunky cowboy seven years her junior! Especially one with a killer grin and eyes that were bluer than the sky. Working for him might be risky business.
Who was she kidding? There was zero chance of Quint Hollister making any kind of a play for her. One look at him was enough to tell Clementine that he had girlfriends running out the ears. Young pretty women with soft skin and pampered hands, who dressed in feminine frills and lace, who no doubt welcomed his attention with open arms. No. He’d never look at her in a romantic way. Which meant she’d always be safe around him. That is, if she could be around the man for a few minutes at a time without losing control of her common sense.
Lying next to her, the phone dinged with an incoming message. She picked it up and read Kipp’s reply.
If the man doesn’t hire you, he’s a fool. But not getting the job would give you a good reason to come home.
Grimacing, Clementine quickly tapped a response.
I have no home.
The phone dinged again, and Clementine’s frown grew deeper as she read her brother’s remark.
You will have. Some day.
With a heavy sigh, she put the phone aside and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about the Rising Starr. Not today or any day. Letting her mind surf through the memories of the beautiful family ranch where she and Kipp had resided for nearly all their lives was too painful. And it was even worse to think how their home had fallen into other hands.
How Kipp could stay there and work as a regular ranch hand was beyond Clementine’s comprehension. But he insisted that he needed to stay close to watch and wait for Andrea to make a mistake. One he could use for evidence in a court of law. And perhaps his strategy was right, she thought glumly. If Kipp had run from the Rising Starr the way Clementine had, there would be no chance of ever getting their home back.
With a rueful sigh, she pushed herself up from the bed and reached for her shoulder bag. It was going to be a long wait until morning and Quint Hollister’s call. She might as well use the rest of the afternoon to get some fresh air and look over the town. After all, if Quint decided against hiring her, she thought, this would be the one and only time she’d see Beaver, Utah.
