Her Montana Cowboy
Автор
Jeannie Watt
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Chapter One
FOR THE PAST several months, Lillie Jean Hardaway had had only two kinds of luck—amazingly good and crazy bad. The seesaw was starting to get to her. Now, as she braced her palms against the door of her car and let her head hang down in defeat, she wondered how she was going to get herself out of this latest instance of crazy bad.
After a couple deep breaths, she stepped back, surveyed her surroundings. The Montana sun had disappeared behind the mountains shortly after her last attempt to drive out of the deep muddy ruts that stubbornly held her car captive, and it was getting dark. Soon it would be seriously dark, so she had to make a decision—follow the road, which, according to the weathered sign she’d passed as she’d turned off the main road, led to the H/H Ranch, or stay with her car and walk in the morning.
Tough choice.
If she was going to walk tonight, she needed to start soon. Her phone was fully charged, so she could use its flashlight when it became too dark to see. And she had her protection dog, Henry—a Chihuahua-dachshund mix wearing a Christmas sweater because it was the only warm garment she could find on short notice. Who knew that Montana was so cold in the spring?
Lillie wrapped her arms around herself as she stared down the long road. What kinds of predators lurked out there, waiting for the cover of darkness? She shuddered at the thought. She knew nothing about fighting off wolves. Should she carry a tire iron or something?
On the other hand, while she had a coat, she had no blanket and it was already getting cold.
Cold? Or wolves in the night?
Lillie went with cold. She and Henry could huddle together for warmth.
Letting out a long sigh, she walked around to the driver’s side to pop the truck latch. It took a little searching by the dim light that shone down into the packed trunk, but finally she found the tire iron under one of her three suitcases. She took it with her as she situated herself in the front seat of the car, reclining the seat back as far as it would go before settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long miserable night.
Yet another tick mark in the “this sucks” column of life. Lillie Jean’s mouth drooped. Until the beginning of this calendar year, she hadn’t had all that many bad experiences. Her childhood had been pleasant and uneventful. She deeply missed her mom, who’d succumbed to breast cancer two years ago, just before Lillie Jean’s twenty-fourth birthday, but after that devastating loss, life had once again shifted back into its normal path. She’d started her small business with her boyfriend, Andrew, who eventually became her fiancé, Andrew. Then, six months before the wedding, he’d become ex-fiancé/business-stealer Andrew.
Lillie Jean rubbed her forehead.
Naive, naive, naive.
Oh, did I mention the part about being naive?
Yeah. I got it. Never again.
She was starting from scratch—financially and emotionally. She was going to watch her back from here on out. If the past several months had taught her anything, it was that there were no excuses for being caught unaware. A little due diligence on her part, and she’d probably still be an owner of A Thread in Time, and she would have cut loose Andrew a long time ago, instead of being caught off guard and humiliated.
A howl in the distance brought Lillie Jean’s head up and made her heart beat a little faster. Cold was definitely better than wolves. Henry snuggled up against her as if to say, “Don’t worry. I’ll fight those wild beasts for you,” because her little dog had yet to figure out that he wasn’t ten feet tall. Lillie Jean stroked his ears, then reached out to touch the cool metal of the tire iron leaning against the gearshift and told herself to be thankful it was March and not January. Although, obviously, March in Montana could be brutal, too.
Maybe that was why her grandfather had left the state for the warmth of central Texas all those years ago.
She’d only know if Thaddeus Hawkins, his business partner, had answers to share. The lawyer hadn’t been able to tell her anything after her grandfather’s unexpected death three weeks ago, except that, in addition to inheriting his personal effects, she would soon be half owner of a Montana ranch. She could truthfully say she still wasn’t over the shock of that meeting. Her grandfather had rented a small house in a modest neighborhood. Driven a twenty-year-old car, which she was driving now. Rarely splurged and had next to no savings. Yet he’d owned half interest in a ranch—eight hundred acres according to the documents. Small by Texas standards, but still, a ranch. Which she hadn’t known about. She and her grandfather had been close, the last of the Hardaway line, and she was still trying to figure out if she felt more mystified or betrayed at being kept in the dark.
A secret ranch. Why?
She hoped the answer lay at the end of the long road she was on...if she ever got there. She wanted to see the place and introduce herself to Thaddeus Hawkins, her grandfather’s former business partner. She had no intentions of lying about who she was or why she was there, but she didn’t think it would hurt to do a little anonymous reconnaissance first. Her experience with Andrew had left her feeling cautious, nowhere close to trusting people blindly as she’d once done. Learning about the ranch had only reinforced the fact that there were just too many secrets in this world, too much double-dealing to take anything at face value.
No matter what, she was never going to be caught off guard again.
* * *
GUS HAWKINS YAWNED as he turned onto the ranch road. His last official shift at the Shamrock Pub, which he owned with his Uncle Thad, had been something. Even though he would still fill in as needed, the patrons of the popular Gavin, Montana, bar had treated the event as a wake. Some brought food. Others brought gag gifts, which was why he now had a temporary tattoo of an anchor on the back of his neck and a lip print on his forehead. One of the college girls had offered him a particularly personal going away present, but he’d gently turned her down. He wouldn’t miss the nightly headaches of the pub, but he would miss the people. The majority of them, anyway.
He slowed as he rounded a series of corners, watching the edge of road as his headlights cut through the darkness. The snow was mostly melted—for now, anyway. Late spring snow and ice storms were a regular occurrence, and since the H/H Ranch still had a number of cows to calve out, there was certain to be one last nasty storm, which would probably coincide with a particularly difficult birth. But for the time being, the new grass was growing and the deer were active as they moved from the valleys to the foothills, following the melt and new growth. He’d had a close call the night before with a large doe and wasn’t all that keen to have another one.
As he topped the hill, he could just see the ranch yard lights in the distance. The place that had been his home since he was fifteen would now be his sole place of employment. He’d essentially worked full-time on the ranch for the past several months, as Salvatore, the H/H’s aging ranch manager, came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t do as much as he once could. Then, after the ranch work was done for the day, Gus put in full shifts at the pub four or five nights a week. The schedule had been grueling—especially during calving season—but Thad had needed the help and Sal needed time. Now Sal was living with his brother in Dillon, and Gus was done double shifting. It’d been easier to hire a good bartender than a good ranch manager, and he had no doubt that Ginny Monroe was more than up to the task of running the bar with Thad. And Thad liked her...maybe more than he wanted to let on.
Go, Ginny. Thad had been single for too darned long.
Gus was smiling at the thought of Ginny easing Thad out of his long bachelorhood as he started back down the hill, driving on the wrong side of the dirt road to avoid the hellacious mud puddle that had formed at the bottom, just around the blind corner. The smile abruptly disappeared as he rounded the corner and found the back end of a giant car directly in front of him. He swung hard to the left, then pulled back onto the road and eased to a stop after barely missing the vehicle. Mystified, he grabbed his flashlight out of the door-panel pocket and got out of his truck, walked back to the car and shined the light on the license plate.
Texas?
What was a gas-guzzling vehicle from Texas doing stuck in the mud on the ranch driveway? No one, save parcel delivery rigs and seasonal hunters, ventured onto this road. Gus pushed back his hat, then stilled as he caught a movement inside the car.
It looked like he was about to get an answer to his question...or so he thought before the head in the car ducked out of sight.
Huh.
He moved closer and bent forward in an attempt to see through the darkly tinted windows into the interior of the car, wondering if someone had left their dog inside to guard the car while they went for help. No...that was definitely a person in there, hunched down in the seat. Probably scared.
“Hi,” he called. “I live on this road. Do you need some help?”
Obviously they needed help, since their car was axle-deep in the mud.
For a moment there was no movement, and then the person leaned across the seat and turned the key, then rolled the window down about an inch.
“I’m Gus Hawkins. I live about five miles down the road. Can I call someone or give you a lift?”
“You live on the H/H Ranch?”
The voice was feminine. Husky. Nervous.
“I do.”
“Oh.”
Gus waited for more. He didn’t get it. “Is that where you were going?”
“Yes. I...uh...thought that Thaddeus Hawkins lived there. Is he a relative?”
His insides went cold when the woman mentioned Thad’s name. Oh, please, not again.
“He’s my uncle.”
A shiver went through her as she stared up at him through three-inch opening in the window. He had no idea who she was, or what her intentions were toward his uncle, but he couldn’t leave her there to spend the night in her car.
“Look—it’s cold out here. Do you want a lift?”
“I...uh...yes. Thank you.” She scooched back across the seat and got out of the passenger side, a small dog under her arm and what looked a whole lot like a tire iron in one hand.
“You aren’t going to conk me with that and steal my truck, are you?” he asked, starting to rethink his offer of a lift. “Because if you are, you should know that there isn’t enough fuel to get back to town.”
In the reflected lights of the headlamps, it looked as if the woman was blushing. “I have no designs on your truck.”
“Good to know.” He smiled, trying to look friendly, while still wondering if he wanted a woman carrying a tire iron riding with him. “These are unusual circumstances and we can sort things out when we get to the ranch, but right now I gotta tell you it makes me nervous having you armed like that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know you,” he explained. You might be crazy.
“I don’t know you,” she pointed out as the little dog lifted his lip to show his teeth in a ridiculous display of bravado.
“I’m not carrying a big chunk of metal to hit you with. Besides—you know my name. I don’t know yours. Or why you’re here.”
“My name is...Lillie Jean. The rest I’ll discuss with Thaddeus.”
Gus closed his eyes, then quickly opened them again. She was carrying a tire iron, after all. “How do you suggest we come to a compromise, Lillie Jean?”
It took her less than a second to say, “Pull me out?”
Just what he wanted to do at 2:00 a.m. He jerked his head toward his warm truck. “Grab your tire iron and let’s go.”
“To the ranch.”
“Yes.” Now that he knew she was there to see Thad, he wanted to keep an eye on her. The last incident might have been online, but Thad coming so close to losing so much money had Gus on alert. For all he knew Thad may have met this woman online, and she was here for... He hated to think.
She didn’t move, so he added, “You can either come with me, or stay with your car. There is no option c.”
It might have been the swirl of icy wind sweeping by them that decided her, but whatever the reason, she gave a nod, hugging her dog a little closer as she did so.
“Let me get my bag.”
Instead of following instinct and offering to help, Gus stood back as she awkwardly balanced dog and tire iron while dragging a zippered gym bag out of the backseat. Finally she shut the door with her hip, then headed toward the passenger side of the truck. When she got inside, he had his first good look at her face in the light and found that he had to take a second. Dark hair waved around her face and fell down her back, but it was her eyes that had made him look again. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but the blue-green color reminded him of his favorite alpine fishing lake—a place he hadn’t had time to visit in well over a year.
She placed the gym bag on the console between them, forming an impressive barrier, then settled in her seat, fastening her seat belt as Gus shut his door. He had no idea what she’d done with her weapon, and as he started back down the road, he tried to put himself in her position, assuming that she wasn’t there for a nefarious purpose. A lone female in the middle of nowhere with no cell signal and only a dog in a reindeer sweater for protection. Of course she was nervous.
But why was she traveling to the ranch, and how did she know Thaddeus?
Why would she come to the ranch without calling first?
Gus hoped that he really was rescuing the woman rather than giving trouble a ride to the ranch, but his gut told him that a woman who gave her name reluctantly was not a woman he wanted staying at his place.
* * *
LILLIE JEAN KEPT her eyes forward as the truck bounced over ruts and skirted vehicle-eating puddles. This situation was surreal. She was no longer in control—of anything, it seemed—but she did her best to appear unconcerned about her lack of power.
“How long were you stuck?”
Lillie Jean gave her rescuer a quick sideways look. He had a strong profile, high cheekbones. A chin that kind of said, “Don’t mess with me.” Dark brown scruff covered his jaw, but it looked as if it was the result of forgetting to shave, rather than an affectation, as was often the case where she came from. She thought his hair might be dark blond, but too much of it was hidden by the battered cowboy hat to be sure. He did not look like someone who would hurt her, but she was in the middle of nowhere and he was a stranger, so she was taking no chances. Henry also kept an eye on the guy while pressing his warm body against her chest. Her little dog was taking no chances, either.
“Since around four o’clock.” She’d arrived in the small town of Gavin around three o’clock and decided to drive to the ranch, take a look at her inheritance, meet her grandfather’s partner, then head back to town and stay in a motel for the night. She should have gone with her other plan of heading out to the ranch first thing in the morning, but she had a feeling she would have still gotten stuck.
“Long time.”
“I never expected a mud puddle to be on the other side of the corner.”
“Always expect the unexpected on a country road.”
And in life. Lillie Jean sat a little straighter in her seat as the lights of the ranch came into view and stayed there instead of disappearing as they crested small hills. What now? She’d meet Thaddeus Hawkins late at night. Probably get him out of bed. He and his nephew might offer her a bed. And she would accept, because what was her other option?
This was not the position she’d hoped to be in when she arrived.
She should have called ahead. Should have set up an appointment via her grandfather’s lawyer. There were a ton of things she should have done. Maybe it was grief, maybe it was the need to simply get away from her old life, but climbing into the boat of a car that her grandfather had kept for “old time’s sake” and driving to Montana to see the ranch and ferret out some answers from Grandpa’s partner before seeing if he wanted to buy her share had seemed like a good idea. No—it had seemed like a way to take control of a life that seemed to be barreling out of control. And, indeed, as she’d driven north, she’d started to feel almost intrepid, following a course that was so out of the ordinary for her. She was in control, and, darn it, she was going to get answers. She’d played over many scenarios in her head as she’d driven—and not one of them had ended like this.
The cowboy—Gus—slowed as he drove under a weathered wooden arch into the ranch proper, which was nothing like Lillie Jean had envisioned. A light on a tall pole illuminated two small run-down houses and another light shone on a cluster of weathered buildings—a barn and several sheds. There was movement in the shadows behind the fence next to the barn. Henry’s hackles lifted and he let out a low growl.
“Better keep hold of him until we get into the house. You don’t want him disappearing out into the pasture.”
“Are those horses?” she asked as Gus pulled to a stop next to a picket fence.
“Cows.” He shut off the engine and the headlights faded.
Cows. Of course. It was a ranch.
They opened their doors at the same time. Lillie Jean scooped up Henry and held him against her chest with one hand as she pulled her tote bag out of the truck with the other. The tire iron stayed where it was, lying on the floorboards. She felt a little foolish about her self-protective measures, but if she had it to do again, she’d do the exact same thing. A wooden sign attached to the gatepost welcomed her to the H/H Ranch. Lillie Jean’s mouth tightened. The H/H didn’t feel very welcoming...but it was half hers. The land was worth something even if all the buildings looked as if they were about to fall down.
Once the gate was closed behind her, she put Henry on the ground and followed Gus up the uneven walkway to the back door. Henry quickly did his business, then hurried back to Lillie Jean. Gus opened the door, and they walked directly into a mudroom with boots lining the wall and a broad assortment of coats and hats hanging on hooks above them. The room was freshly swept and baskets of folded clothing sat atop the washer and dryer next to the door leading into the house.
Gus crossed to the door, snapped on a light and stood back so that she could enter first. The big kitchen was as neat as the mudroom. The oak table in the center of the room was an antique and the simple white appliances were close to being antique.
“You can sleep in Thad’s room. Give me a sec and I’ll get you some sheets.”
“Where will Thad sleep?” she asked, horrified at the idea of rousting the old man out of bed and sending him to sleep who knew where.
“Where he’s probably sleeping right now. In the apartment over the bar.”
“What bar?”
“The Shamrock Pub. His bar. Our bar.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Thad doesn’t live on the ranch. He hasn’t lived here for years. He only stays here when he needs to pitch in around the place.”
Lillie Jean’s mouth fell open. “You’re saying...”
“It’s just you and me here tonight.” He folded his arms over his chest and his expression wasn’t at all amused as he said, “Do you want to go back to the truck for your weapon?”
