Книга - Return To Marker Ranch

Return To Marker Ranch
Claire McEwen


This is one reunion they could do withoutThis is the chance she's been waiting for to prove she can run her family's ranch. And despite her many doubters, Lori Allen knows she's doing a good job. Until the man who once broke her heart—Wade Hoffman—runs her well dry! And it turns out he's got as much to prove as she does. After serving his country, Wade's back to rebuild his family’s reputation and win his battle with PTSD.With so much to lose, neither can afford to give in to temptation. But to succeed they must let go of old heartache and face up to bringing out each other's worst, along with the best. And what doesn't kill them…







This is one reunion both of them could do without

This is the chance she’s been waiting for to prove she can run her family’s ranch. And despite her many doubters, Lori Allen knows she’s doing a good job. Until the man who once broke her heart—Wade Hoffman—runs her well dry! And it turns out he’s got as much to prove as she does. After serving his country, Wade’s back to rebuild his family’s reputation and win his battle with PTSD.

With so much to lose, neither can afford to give in to temptation. But to succeed they must let go of old heartache and face up to bringing out each other’s worst, along with the best. And what doesn’t kill them...


“Who’s going to want to mentor a Hoffman?”

Wade shook his head and added, “C’mon, Lori, you know how people in this town must feel about me being back. You’re my only hope.”

She looked at Wade for a long moment. What he was proposing was dangerous. To her heart. To the regrets she kept locked away so they wouldn’t overwhelm her. But he was trying to make something of himself. Trying to prove himself. She understood that—she was living it.

“All right. We’ll try it.” She was crazy to agree, but how could she say no?

“Thank you,” he breathed, relief written stark across his face. “I promise I’ll try to take as little of your time as possible. And I’ll pay for Bill Cooper’s time when he helps us figure out the water share. I’m truly grateful, Lori.”

He was looking at her like she was his guardian angel, his salvation. And then the reality of this, of them, sent anxiety washing over her. How would he look at her if he knew what she’d done?


Dear Reader (#ulink_898774d7-f568-5c1d-999f-1edf82fe39d5),

Return to Marker Ranch started out as a short story about two young people caught in a snowstorm together and forced to come to terms with their past. I entered the story in a contest, which it didn’t win, and then set it aside. But the characters, Wade Hoffman and Lori Allen, so in love, and so torn apart by the past, haunted me. I couldn’t stop thinking about them and the issues they were grappling with. I realized that they had to have their own book. But when I started writing, it quickly became clear that their story was much bigger than one book. So that first short story grew into the Sierra Legacy series.

I loved writing Wade and Lori’s book. And along the way it became so much more than a story for me. Wade’s attempts to fit into his hometown felt similar to my own struggles growing up in a troubled family and feeling like I’d never fit in anywhere. Lori’s efforts to never show weakness, and to work so hard to seem perfect, also felt familiar. Wade’s PTSD broke my heart as I read articles and learned more about the challenges that veterans face. And Lori came to represent all of the brave people who love our veterans and stand by them, even when it’s difficult.

I hope you enjoy Wade and Lori’s story of love, forgiveness and healing. To find out more about PTSD, or how to help veterans, please visit the resources page of my website, www.clairemcewen.com (http://www.clairemcewen.com). And thank you for reading Return to Marker Ranch. I hope the story touches your heart the way it did mine.

Claire McEwen




Return to Marker Ranch

Claire McEwen







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CLAIRE MCEWEN lives by the ocean in Northern California with her husband, son and a scruffy, mischievous terrier, whose unique looks and goofy hijinks provided inspiration for an important character in Return to Marker Ranch. When not dreaming up new stories, Claire can be found digging in her garden with a lot of enthusiasm but, unfortunately, no green thumb. She loves discovering flea-market treasures, walking on the beach, dancing, traveling and reading, of course! Claire enjoys Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram, and likes musing about writing and all things romantic on her blog, Romance All Around Us. Please visit her website, clairemcewen.com (http://www.clairemcewen.com), for more information.


For my stepsister, Heather: a brave and dedicated soldier and pilot, a rescuer of cats, and a light in my childhood. Memories of her warmed my heart while I wrote this story.

And for animal lovers everywhere, who know that when we rescue an animal they rescue us too, and grow our hearts a few sizes bigger in the process.

And for Arik, who makes it all possible and keeps me believing in love.


Contents

COVER (#u81c348b4-9e3b-5446-8b0f-c7cb057caf14)

BACK COVER TEXT (#u0e857a86-4667-577d-8122-a1af2afb4bfa)

INTRODUCTION (#u3a41fe9a-161e-5d92-b626-a345c9e146de)

Dear Reader (#u24b08e77-2f4d-5d48-b619-b596f392b872)

TITLE PAGE (#u57b16cdf-8c9a-5e48-ae95-9b2d758dd163)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u7fe89c54-a614-5b68-bc1d-7c8393e90961)

DEDICATION (#ud2ca8d15-ede9-5767-b2db-7b79312ca95e)

CHAPTER ONE (#u8b5d0972-0a47-5918-a3df-7c14769cb4c9)

CHAPTER TWO (#u5d8271be-dc90-5f85-b6b2-657fb78a00a2)

CHAPTER THREE (#u4172318b-f1c1-5dd5-b383-8b4616b78258)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u68408b62-0825-5ea4-9b7e-c14c38dcbb41)

CHAPTER FIVE (#uf3b36f75-7809-591f-be17-b65abb940fe1)

CHAPTER SIX (#u196c6457-4b0c-5f59-a593-9668637a09f0)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u1811b186-cbcb-5a7f-9346-06a1c27025d4)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u79ce1d68-8d55-54f4-990d-3c228a308cb4)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f71d6a0f-8573-51fa-84fa-5c05b6e097b9)

LORI ALLEN TUGGED at the brim of her hat in a futile attempt to shade her eyes from the relentless blue sky. It was way too hot for this late in the fall. She scanned the granite ridges that towered behind her ranch. Heat waves shimmered between her and the peaks. No clouds. Again.

But heat or no heat, Lori couldn’t put it off any longer. She needed to get this pasture ready. The cattle she’d summered up in the high Sierra meadows had to come down. The Bureau of Land Management didn’t care that summer never seemed to end anymore. They’d fine her if she let the herd stay beyond the terms of the lease.

Leaning forward in the saddle, Lori nudged her mare up the rutted dirt road that bordered her upper pasture. She glanced at the neat rows of barbed wire with pride. There’d been plenty of time to mend fences last winter when the snow never came. Though she’d happily trade this perfect fence line for a few snowstorms.

Thanks to the drought, the only forage up here was brush and brown stubble. Maybe if she turned on the irrigation for a few days she could get some new grass started before she brought the cattle down. She glanced at the sky again. It was her only choice. Irrigate or pray for rain. And she’d been praying to deaf ears for a while now.

Dakota’s short, choppy gait took them quickly up the hill toward the well and the irrigation valves. The flaking gray metal of the storage tank came into view. Lori veered the mare alongside it and peeked at the gauge. And felt her heart stutter. “No...” she breathed, staring at the gauge. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Dakota’s ears flicked back instantly, as if the little quarter horse was trying to comprehend the sudden change in her rider’s mood.

Lori blinked, looked and blinked again. But nothing changed. The tank was empty.

No. No, no, no. The words hammered along with her heart. She’d heard of wells running dry a little south of here, but this one was supplied by mountain runoff, and there had been some snow up on the highest peaks last winter. It would make sense for the well to be low...but empty? Impossible.

The gauge had to be stuck. Lori reached over and tapped its thick, clear surface with her knuckles, waiting for the numbers to jump. Nothing. She smacked the gauge hard with the palm of her hand, wincing as the impact jarred her wrist. She willed the numbers to change. They didn’t.

Four-letter words she rarely said hung ugly in the afternoon silence. She couldn’t deal with this. Couldn’t afford this. The threatening heat of tears slicked behind her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wouldn’t cry. Not even up here, alone in the most remote part of her ranch.

Solutions. Focus on solutions. She knew how to handle his. She slid off Dakota’s back and led the mare in a circle around the tank, looking for broken pipes, dripping water, cracks in the tank, anything that would explain what was going on.

Everything looked just fine.

“Okay,” she said to Dakota, her voice sounding foreign in the deep mountain silence. “We’ll ride up closer to the mountains.” She put her foot in the stirrup and swung up onto the saddle. “Let’s take a look at the creek up here. Maybe we can see what’s going wrong.” It was silly to talk to her horse, but it kept the panic at bay.

Maybe a new spring had pushed its way out somewhere. The east side of the Sierra Nevada was known for its hot springs. Water wandered deep under the still-forming peaks and met up with all kinds of heat and pressure, then popped out of the earth in unpredictable places. If a new spring had surfaced, it could change everything.

A flicker of hope had her urging Dakota through the brush behind the tank, following deer trails until they were in the shadow of the higher peaks. There’d been an earthquake last week. Not a big one, but maybe enough to shift things around. If that was the cause of the problem, it might be an easy fix.

It was probably wishful thinking, but she could allow herself a few hours of wishing before she went home and called up Bill Cooper, the local driller.

She let Dakota have a loose rein so the horse could pick her own way up the hill. Arching her back, Lori stretched in the saddle, trying to let some of the stress go. A ride on a hot fall afternoon would normally relax her. The drone of insects and the crunch of dry brush under Dakota’s hooves melded in a soothing rhythm that should have made everything feel hopeful and okay. But the tension that had been buzzing in the back of her brain ever since her father moved away clamped claws onto her shoulders, making them ache.

Taking over the ranch had been so much harder than she’d ever imagined. She had a lifetime of experience and a degree in animal husbandry, but that hadn’t prepared her for the pressure of making all the decisions, every day. She’d always respected her father, but that respect had grown tenfold since she’d tried to fill his shoes these past couple of months. She rolled her shoulders, wincing at the stabbing pain. Her well was dry and damn, she needed that water.

Dakota took them over a rise, and Lori turned her onto a faint path that meandered along the summit. From up here, Lone Mountain Ranch looked tiny, a distant patchwork quilt rather than the busy operation it really was. But it wouldn’t be busy if she didn’t have water. Panic threatened again and Lori bit it back. She looked up at the mountains instead, their fierce grandeur a reminder to keep her problems in perspective.

And then she saw it, on the next hill over. Something white and shining—and unfamiliar. The closer she got, the more it took shape—a large metal water tank, brand-new and gleaming in the sun.

“What the...” She stood up in the stirrups, trying to get a sense of the size and scope of the thing. And then she jerked Dakota to a halt at the sight of barbed wire. They’d reached the rusted old fence marking the far northern boundary of her family’s ranch. The new tank was on the other side. On Marker Ranch. The Hoffmans’ land, abandoned for the past decade.

But apparently not abandoned anymore. She stared at the overgrown pasture. Native shrubs had overtaken most of the grass. Marker Ranch hadn’t been maintained when the Hoffmans lived here, and ever since they’d run off, nature had been busy reclaiming the land.

But now they were back. Or someone was. She glanced down the hill. Far below, she could see the top of her tank, downstream from this new one. Typical Hoffman underhanded behavior. They’d drilled a well and stolen her water.

She stared out over the parched landscape. It didn’t make sense. Why would the Hoffmans come back? Everyone said they were hiding down in Mexico ever since they fled arrest for drug dealing years ago. They couldn’t come back.

Could it be Nora or Wade? The two younger Hoffman kids had stayed away from the shady family business. Nora had left for college and Wade had followed his older sister a few years later.

Lori shivered despite the heat. She wasn’t going down that road—wasn’t going to think about Wade Hoffman. She made a habit of not thinking about him every day. The jerk had stolen her heart, her pride and her happiness. She’d often wished he’d just followed family tradition and swiped her car instead.

The tank squatted in the field, all shiny and new. If she had her gun, she’d shoot it. Lori ran a hand over her eyes, but when she opened them, the tank was still there. This was really happening.

No. It wasn’t happening. Memories and old hurt turned to outrage. This couldn’t happen—wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t allow it. Lori turned Dakota and pressed her into a jog, heading back along the ridge.

Thoughts swirled in circles of fury. She’d worked for years so she’d be ready to take over Lone Mountain Ranch. She’d pushed herself on every exam, every paper and every lab in college. She’d handled all the challenges life had thrown her way. And worst of all, she’d put herself through a heartbreak so big that it still ached. All so she could achieve her dream of running this ranch and her father could retire and finally find some peace.

And now that dream was in serious peril. No water on her upper pastures meant half her grazing land would be useless. Which meant she’d have to sell off her cattle. Which would mean that all she’d gone through, all she’d sacrificed, would have been for nothing.

They passed her empty storage tank and picked their way back down the hill. Lori asked Dakota for a lope the moment the mare’s hooves hit the packed dirt road at the bottom. She was going to take care of this today. Somehow.

I can do this. It had been her mantra for months, but this was her biggest test. No way was she going to fail it. She faced down bulls, delivered calves and took care of herds of cattle every day. She dealt with disapproving ranch hands who questioned her every move. Compared with all that, a little chat with the lowlife, water-stealing Hoffmans would be easy.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_4143fd4b-44c4-59c4-b5ce-519746c4420c)

EVEN THOUGH MARKER RANCH was just down the road, Lori had never actually been there. She’d grown up with Wade and wasted her teenage years in the throes of a tortured crush on the bad boy he became. But no one she knew had ever set foot on his family’s ranch. Wade’s dad and older brothers hadn’t exactly encouraged visitors. In fact, they’d been downright scary.

She squinted at a weathered sign nailed to a post at the start of the driveway. The faded black letters read Keep Out. Lori wasn’t usually one to break the rules, but today was different. Her ranch was at stake.

Her truck pitched and bumped through the minefield of potholes that passed for a driveway. The place was a mess. One entire pasture was filled with rusted-out cars. The main barn was leaning and sagging, tired and gray, its paint long gone. The farmhouse was in a similar state. Roof shingles were missing and the porch looked like it was about to fall right off the house. It was a shame because it had obviously been a lovely home long ago.

The place looked deserted. There was none of the bustle you’d find around a typical ranch house. No dogs barking, chickens fluttering or livestock clamoring for dinner. The silence made her uneasy, and suddenly she wondered if she should have brought someone with her. She stepped out of the truck, keeping one hand on the door. “Hello?” she called.

Her voice disappeared into the dry heat of the late afternoon. “Hello?” she tried again.

She shut the door and took a few steps toward the house, but a noise coming from a ramshackle plywood shed to her left stopped her in her tracks. There was a clanking and a scraping, and then a skateboard came flying out the shed door and landed in the grass with a thud. As Lori watched in amazement, a Weedwacker followed. Then a chain saw. Then another.

She took a few steps toward the shed. A car wheel rolled out of the dim interior, and she dodged out of its path. “Hey!” she yelled. “Anyone in there?”

There was silence, then the crunching of boots on gravel. A man stepped out of the shadows, and Lori’s heart hit her stomach with a soft, sickening thump of recognition. Wade Hoffman.

He had the same dark brown hair, but it was shorter now. The same dark eyes and high cheekbones. She’d traced her fingertips along them the night they’d spent together. Don’t think of that. She bit down on her lip, the sharp pain a reminder of all the pain he’d caused. Don’t ever think of that.

“Lori?” he asked, and his voice sounded kind of hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you were back.” And then she felt the impact of her own words ramming into her chest. “How long have you been here?”

“About six weeks.”

It stung. She shouldn’t care what he did. Or where he went. But it stung. He’d come home and hadn’t even bothered to get in touch. For six weeks.

He reached up on the door, pulled a battered straw cowboy hat off a nail and clapped it on his head. Then he walked around the scattered junk to stand in front of her. Close up he was bigger than she remembered. He’d always been several inches taller than her—most people were. But now he was so solid that even through the faded gray T-shirt she could tell he was all muscle. As a teenager he’d been good-looking. Since then he’d gone from good-looking to gorgeous.

She didn’t want him to be gorgeous. This day was getting worse, if that was possible.

He was waiting for her to say something, but it was hard to think when his eyes were the same deep brown she remembered. They’d gone almost black when he’d kissed her. Her voice came out as a weird squeak. “You’re here to stay?”

“Yup.” He looked wary, his jaw set with tension. But she knew that if he gave one of his rare smiles, it would change everything. Light him up. It always had.

Don’t think about his damn smile. He’d been here long enough to build a giant well above hers. Long enough to use up all her water. And he’d never once contacted her.

“Oh.” It was all she could manage and still get oxygen. He’d always done that. Crowded her, sucked up all the air just by standing close.

“You hadn’t heard?” he asked. “Did the Benson gossip machine break down while I was gone?”

She gave the expected smile, but it felt stiff. “I haven’t been to town much the past month or so. My dad retired to Florida. There was all the packing to get him ready and then...” How to explain the last couple of months? She’d dropped into bed exhausted every night. There’d been no time to go to town and hear the gossip. “Well, it’s been busy, what with all the fall cattle work starting.”

“I’ve got a few cattle of my own here now,” he offered.

“Really?” She made a mental note to count her stock very carefully when she collected them from the mountains. Wade used to be the lone honest Hoffman son, but things could change.

“Yup. I’m planning on fixing this place up...turn it into a real working ranch.”

“Oh.” What was she supposed to say to that? “That’s great.” Suddenly the last bit of the resilience that had kept her going over the past hard months melted away. She had an overwhelming urge to lie down in the oily dust of Wade’s junkyard ranch and give up. Wade was her permanent next-door neighbor? Who’d taken her water? She knew life wasn’t fair. But sometimes it doled out bits of unfairness so cruel they felt like cuts to the soul.

“You okay, Lori? You look kind of pale.” Wade stepped forward and put a hand on her upper arm as if to support her. But the strength of his fingers, and the memories they sent burning to the surface of her mind, had the opposite effect. Her knees felt shaky and she pulled away from him.

“I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. This wasn’t okay. Wade, here, was not okay.

“Let me get you some water,” he offered.

Her laugh wheezed like a mule’s bray. “Water. Yeah, I’d love some water. My water.”

Wariness crept like a cloud across Wade’s eyes. “I’m missing something here, Lori. Look, you need to sit down.”

He obviously thought she was crazy. She felt crazy. Felt like she’d crossed through some time warp and crashed right into that naive girl she’d been back when she’d slept with him.

“I’m fine, really.” She forced her back muscles straight, her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms so the pain would wake her up, sharpen her traitorous mind. “I’m here because you built a well. And ruined mine.”

He stared at her. “How...”

“Up on the southern edge of your ranch? Well, the way our boundaries are, your property is above mine. So your well is uphill from my well. And mine dried out.”

“Oh, crap.” He had the grace to look stricken.

She nodded. “That just about sums it up.”

“What do we do now?”

At least he wasn’t going on the defensive, trying to deny it or bully her or any of the other worries she’d had on the drive over. “Shut it down and give me my water back.”

He looked past her, uphill and south, in the direction of the new tank, though they couldn’t see it from here. “I can’t do that. I spent most of my combat pay on that thing.”

“Combat?” Pieces of this new version of Wade—the muscles, the poise, the calm, curt way he was speaking—all fell into place. “You were in combat? Fighting?”

“Yup.”

He didn’t say more and she didn’t ask. How did you ask about something like that? And it was none of her business, anyway. He’d made that clear by his silence in the weeks since he’d come home.

That silence hurt, but maybe the hurt was good. It would add another layer to her carefully honed resentment. A resentment and a regret that had carried her through so many hard times it had become a part of her. A strong part, kind of like a second skeleton. “Look, I’m sorry you spent your money on that well. You should have checked with me first. That water belongs to my ranch.”

“I looked into that. You don’t own the rights.”

His words were little earthquakes, shaking her world. She’d always assumed her father had taken care of that when he first drilled. “That can’t be true.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I’m not saying you would.” She studied the ground at her feet, frantically going through her options. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

“I didn’t mean to cause you harm, Lori.”

“Ha.” She blurted it out without thinking. He was walking, talking harm. She swallowed hard, getting her misfiring mind under control. “I’m sure. But here’s some advice. It’s best to check in with your neighbors before you start a big project like that. We’re all connected out here.”

He looked away for a moment before he spoke. “I guess I didn’t realize it.”

“I guess you didn’t.” Everything he didn’t realize sat on her shoulders in an oppressive weight. Their night together had changed her life forever. And he had no idea. She pulled the keys to her truck out of her pocket. There was nothing for her here.

“Look, I’m sorry about the water.”

“Sorry doesn’t help. And if you were truly sorry, you’d shut down that well.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Then I’ll have to figure out what to do next.” She needed to get out of here. Needed to get far away from this new betrayal and these unearthed memories and all her endless, useless wishing that they’d both done things differently. “I’d better go.”

“It was good to see you.” He held out his hand to shake hers. She didn’t want to take it. Didn’t want to feel that strength ever again. His strength had always been her weakness.

She grabbed his hand and there it was. All wrapped around hers, fingers long and strong and warm. As compelling as she’d dreaded. Damn him. She yanked her hand back. “I’ll call the driller. And if he can’t help me, I’ll call my lawyer.” There. That felt better. She was strong and fierce when she let the old bitterness drive her. He’d been careless with her when they were young, and now he was being careless with her again. With her ranch, her career, her livelihood, her life. But this time she wouldn’t crumble or let him destroy her. She’d fight back.

“A lawyer? Lori, come on...”

“No, you come on. You can’t just come back here after all these years and sink a well that uses up all my water. I’m in charge of Lone Mountain Ranch now, and if I need a lawyer to get my water back, I’m damn well going to call one.”

“I didn’t know my well would dry yours out. And my guess is that you don’t know for sure that it has.”

There was truth there, but she wouldn’t admit it. Not when he was digging in his heels. “I checked around up there and didn’t see any other reason for it.”

He shrugged. “Well, let’s wait to hear what the driller has to say. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can solve this problem.”

“Friends?” She let him see her cynicism. “Is that what we are?”

He looked at her carefully, like she was some kind of feral thing that might reach out and bite. “I always thought so.”

“Do you even remember...” She stopped. There was no use talking about it. No way he could know the pain he’d helped cause. No way she wanted to tell him. “I’ve got to get back.” She started to turn away when something caught her eye. “Hang on.” She stooped and picked up one of the chain saws he’d left on the ground. “That’s my ranch’s logo. The Lone Mountain. It’s scratched out, but...see?” She shoved it toward him, blade first.

“Easy there.” He stepped around the blade and moved closer to see where she pointed. “You’re right. That’s yours. Want to take it? I’ll throw in a Weedwacker, too.” He picked one up and held it out to her, a humorless smile tilting the corner of his mouth. She didn’t want to notice the way it creased a bitter dimple into his cheek.

“How can you joke about this? Is all this stuff stolen?”

“I reckon.”

“That’s all you can say? You reckon? When you’ve got stolen property from half the county here?”

“More like half the state, I think.”

She stared at him, looking for shame, or remorse, or some indication of what he thought about it all. But he just stared right back at her, not a hint of apology in his eyes. She couldn’t care less about the stolen chain saw. Her water was the real crime here.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your illegal junkyard, then.”

He stilled. Her blow had hit home. “That’s just low. You know I didn’t steal it. Don’t be like the rest of this town and judge me because of my family.” His smile was gone and his voice was quiet. “I’d expect a little more kindness from the Lori I used to know.”

“Kindness?” Her voice went shrill, and she stopped herself. Tried to breathe. Tried to bring her words lower. “This from the guy who didn’t even bother to knock on my door before he drilled a well over mine?”

“I’m new at this. I didn’t know.”

“It was your responsibility to know.” Kindness. Her rage made her breath catch. How dare he call her unkind, when he’d been so cruel the last time they’d seen each other? “I’ll give you some kindness...by telling you a hard truth about ranching. There is no room for excuses. If you screw up, you’ve got to own up to it and fix the problem right away. Because your land, your animals, your staff, your family, they all need you not to screw up. They rely on you for everything, and your mistakes can affect them in huge ways. So don’t waste your time on excuses. Just fix the problem.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

She gaped at him. He’d always done that. Seen right through her into what was really going on. Lately it felt like every move she made had an extra weight attached to it. The weight of all the people who needed Lone Mountain to survive this damn drought. Who saw ranches going under all around them and were counting on her to pull a miracle out of her pocket.

Tears hit the back of her eyes—an acid burn. No way was she going to cry in front of him.

“I’m doing fine.” She threw the old chain saw in the back of her pickup and jumped into the cab, slamming the door and rolling up the window so she didn’t have to hear him.

But he didn’t speak. Just stood there, stolen Weedwacker in hand. She U-turned in his driveway and cursed when it turned into a bumpy three-pointer, the deep potholes rocking her truck back and forth and making her escape even more undignified. Then, finally, she got straightened out and clattered away.

With stolen glimpses in her rearview mirror, she could see him standing there, so still, watching her leave. When she got to the Keep Out sign, she allowed herself one more glance. Then she rounded the corner and he was out of view. That’s when the tears overflowed—too hot, too much, so she had to jerk her truck to the side of the road and just sit, the back of her hand over her twisted mouth, trying to stop the ancient sobs from coming through.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_7a2e026b-0787-5b0b-8456-da2e3c9407ed)

THAT WENT WELL. Wade dropped the Weedwacker and leaned against the wall of the old shed. Disappointment and frustration surged in a filthy wave that had him turning to slam his fist into the wall, sending splinters of plywood flying.

His dream of ranching was rapidly becoming a disaster. He hadn’t anticipated the size of the mess his dad and brothers had left behind. Piles of stolen property hidden in the sheds and barns, or just lying around in the fields. Remnants of a meth lab in the old homestead cabin up in the woods. Every building in need of massive repair. Every pasture overgrown, every fence half-down. And now his one accomplishment, his brand-new well, had destroyed the water supply of the woman he’d loved since they were kids.

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t have come home. Buddies from the service had gone home to parades, flags waving, the whole town excited to see them. But Wade was a Hoffman, which meant people from his hometown would be happier to see the back of him. Lori included, evidently.

But she had reason for her anger. He could assemble a weapon in seconds, creep through an Afghan desert without being seen, but he had no idea how to run a ranch. He definitely had no idea how to site a well. And now he’d taken her water.

He shouldn’t have hired a driller from out of town. Someone local would have known about Lori’s well. But the local guys were pricey, and Wade was just about broke.

She was right. He should have gone by to talk to her first. He was a decorated veteran, but he was also a coward. He’d treated her so badly when they were young. When he’d taken the comfort she’d offered for his loneliness and fear. And then shoved her as far away as he possibly could, so he’d have the courage to leave.

He owed her a mile-long apology. He’d driven to her ranch to try to make amends a few times since he’d come home. But the anxiety that had dogged him ever since he left the army had his hands shaking and his breath scarce as soon as her driveway came in sight. So each time he’d driven on past, not wanting to stand in front of her a weak and shaking fraction of the boy she’d known.

Seeing her today, he hadn’t shaken. Instead he’d felt almost paralyzed. There she was, just like he’d remembered. Petite. Incredibly beautiful. Her sun-streaked hair whipping loose from her ponytail in the hot afternoon breeze. Her dark blue eyes fierce. So strong, tough, smart and good. And he’d stumbled around in his numb brain trying to find even the simplest words. What a fricking disaster.

All these years, all he’d wanted was to get back here and see her again. But what would she think if she knew he was broken, his mind fragmented by the insidious fault lines of PTSD? The pity in her eyes would be confirmation of his worst fear. That no matter how hard he worked, he’d never be whole. That he’d never be man enough for her.

His fist came up even as he tried to will it still. The urge to slam it down a second time was so strong. Don’t feed the dragon, Dr. Miller had told him. Don’t let your mind go too far over the edge of emotion. It’s the PTSD taking over, and you don’t have to let it.

But it was stronger than he was. Almost as if it belonged to someone else, he watched his fist come up and smash the shed wall again. And again. Over and over until he’d knocked a hole clear through and a trickle of blood ran down his wrist. Only then could he pull his arm back, sliding down the wall to sit heavily in the dirt, welcoming the pain that returned him to reality and brought him home to his body. He had no control over the damn dragon. It was running rampant inside. And it fed off moments like this, when he could still see the disappointment in Lori’s eyes.

* * *

“IT’S DRY, LORI.” Bill Cooper climbed down from her water tank and shook his head. “I’m seeing this all over. If this damn drought doesn’t end soon, I honestly don’t know what we’re all gonna do.”

Stay calm, Lori told herself sternly as stress twisted her insides. She was a rancher, and things going wrong was just part of the job description. “I don’t know, either. But what can I do, right now, to get more water to this end of the ranch?”

“Well, you could pump water up from your lower wells. But that will put a pretty big strain on those, and you’ll be in big trouble if they dry out, too.”

“I don’t want to take that risk.” Just the thought made her palms sweat.

Bill nodded. “So you can buy water and have it delivered, or you can drill deeper.”

“Deeper? How deep?”

Bill stared at the ground as if willing it to divulge its secrets. “At least another fifty feet. More likely a hundred or so.”

“Seriously? That far? That will cost me a fortune!”

“Yeah, it’s not cheap.” He shook his head a little mournfully. “When I put this well in for your dad, we were swimming in water. Now the aquifers are so low, you gotta go far down to find it.”

“Can you be sure we’ll get water if we drill?”

“Nope.”

“That’s all you’ve got for me, Bill? Nope?” She slapped her palm against the tank and listened to the empty sound echoing back at her.

Bill took off his baseball cap and scratched his bald head. “I’m not sure of much anymore when it comes to drilling. Wells are drying out right and left because the aquifers are empty. No rain means we’re all pumping water. No snowpack in the mountains means the aquifers aren’t getting refilled. It comes down to simple math. We’re in the red.”

Lori took a shaky breath. No water. A rancher’s nightmare. Only she was awake. “Well, it is what it is. I’m calling a lawyer. It’s not right that Wade drilled up there.”

“Yeah, I sure wish he’d called me to help him out with that. But calling a lawyer won’t solve the problem. You both need water.”

“But he won’t shut down his well. Maybe a lawyer could make him.”

“But then how’s Wade gonna make it without water? I know you’re pissed at him, but do you really want to see the man ruined?” Bill paused, staring absently at her useless well. “You know, I think your only good solution is to work something out with Wade. Maybe a water sharing program. Use his well. It’s so close, we’d just have to run a line down the hill to your land and you’d be set. Of course you’d have to agree on the terms. How much water you each get, how to split any maintenance cost on the well, an irrigation schedule, all that.”

“What if he won’t share?”

Bill shot her a look of fatherly humor. “Wasn’t it you who trounced my boy Elliot on the high school debate team senior year?”

Lori smiled at the memory. “He was tough to beat.”

“But you did it with style. We were all impressed. So just use those skills. You’ll talk Wade into it.”

She remembered the stubborn set to Wade’s jaw yesterday. The steel determination in his eyes when he talked about the ranch. She didn’t share any of Bill’s confidence in her persuasive skills when it came to Wade.

And even if he said yes, would that be a good thing? Just seeing him yesterday had brought so much back. How alone she’d felt, away at college, a few weeks after he’d left her with his harsh words. When she’d found out she was pregnant.

Yesterday those memories had come back. And they’d made her cry, and she didn’t want to be that pathetic girl, crying over him. The girl who’d been so lost, she’d made a decision she’d regretted ever since. But yesterday afternoon, sobbing in her truck by the side of the road, that’s exactly who she’d been.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Bill. Maybe you can help me get some contacts and look into bringing water in?”

“I can. But it will cost you an arm and a leg. Look, I know Wade is a Hoffman. And that family was hard and mean and wrong in their ways. But Wade was never involved in much of their activities, and a lot of time has gone by since then. Plus, I heard that he’s served our country. It’s a shame our town hasn’t treated him better since he’s been back.”

Lori had never heard Bill talk so much. She just wished he’d decided to get loquacious about a different subject.

“All I’m saying, Lori, is that I think we’re all going to have to work together if our ranches are going to make it. We’ve all cut our herd size, but a lot of people are talking about selling out entirely. So if you don’t want to go bust, I think you and Wade should put your heads together and see what you can come up with.”

Lori wasn’t willing to put her head, or any other part of her body, together with Wade Hoffman. She’d made that mistake once already, with tragic results.

She watched Bill’s truck rattle slowly down the dirt road back toward the main barn. When he was out of sight, she leaned against the water tank and stared up at the austere cliffs above her, looking for answers in the way the light and shadow played across the sheer granite slabs. She loved these mountains. Had always felt so at home here. But with the drought, her sense of home had never seemed more tenuous. Families were leaving. Ranching was becoming more difficult than ever. What if she failed, too?

People depended on her. Especially her sister—sweet, quiet Mandy. Worry churned inside. If the ranch folded, Lori could go east and work for someone else. But what would Mandy do without the ranch? Her whole world was the ranch house, her kitchen, her pets.

Bill was right. Sinking thousands of dollars into drilling deeper for water was a gamble. And with so much to lose, Lori couldn’t afford to roll the dice. Trucking in water would bust her budget wide open. Which meant she’d just have to put on her big girl pants and head back over to Wade’s. And beg.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_e46dc1a1-f3fb-50f8-9ad6-6684d77f4832)

“YOU NEVER MENTIONED that Wade Hoffman was back.” The words escaped the moment Lori stepped into the coffee-scented kitchen. She hadn’t meant to say them. But dreams of Wade had haunted her all night.

Mandy’s big blue eyes went even wider. “I didn’t know he was back.”

“Well, he is.” Lori told her sister, “Right down the road, trying to get Marker Ranch up and running.”

“I had no idea.” Mandy went to the coffeepot and filled two mugs. She held one out. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.” Lori took the cup but couldn’t let the topic go. “But you’re the one who goes to town all the time. You do our shopping and you bake for people. You’re constantly trying to talk people into adopting some stray animal or another... How can you not have heard the juiciest piece of gossip to hit the town of Benson in years?”

Mandy sighed. “I don’t know... I guess I’m not one for gossip. You know me...” Mandy’s sentence trailed off, and she looked away, out the kitchen window.

Lori didn’t need her to finish the sentence because she knew how it ended. Mandy was quiet—living in her own world of sweet domesticity. She’d been that way ever since their mom had died, and when Lori tried to talk to her about it, she always got that same line. You know me... I’m just quiet.

Which wasn’t really true. Mandy hadn’t always been quiet. She’d been bubbly and happy, a typical adolescent girl. But Mandy had been with their mom riding in the mountains on the day she died. Mom’s horse had startled, rearing up and throwing her off sideways with her foot still caught in the stirrup. She’d been dragged. By the time Mandy caught the horse, it was too late. All these years later and that bubbly, happy girl had never come back.

But Mandy wasn’t unhappy. Just different. She spent her days concocting amazing things in the big farmhouse kitchen. Her baking was out of this world. Lori grabbed a muffin off the cooling rack and bit in. The cinnamon and walnuts were rich and a little tangy on her tongue. “Hey, if the ranch goes under, maybe you could open a bakery and support us. These are incredible.”

Mandy’s cheeks went pink. “They’re okay. I’m still working out the kinks in the recipe. But is it that bad with the ranch? Are we going under?”

Lori’s protective instincts kicked in. “We’re just fine. But if this drought doesn’t end soon, it’s going to get harder.”

“You’ll make it work,” Mandy assured her. “And if I can do anything to help, let me know.”

It was a generous offer. Mandy avoided most of the ranch animals, except for the chickens she raised in the gorgeous coop she’d coaxed their father into building. Those creatures lived in ridiculous luxury under her care.

Instead of ranch work, she’d taken on all the domestic chores—which suited Lori fine. Without Mandy, Lori would probably be eating baked beans out of a can—she was that clumsy in a kitchen. For her, cooking meant burning things, breaking things and always wishing she were outside in the fresh air with the horses and cattle.

Mandy went to the sink to wash her hands. Lori watched her adorable china doll of a sister, wondering if she should be worried about her. They’d both had to grow up fast. Their dad had been so devastated by his wife’s death that he could barely function. That’s when Mandy took over all the house chores so Lori could take on more responsibility around the ranch.

And as the years went by and Dad’s depression didn’t really lift... Well, that changed Lori, too. She could see how much he needed a new start. How badly he wanted to go somewhere else, where memories of his beloved wife weren’t waiting for him around every corner.

But her dad had also made it clear he wouldn’t let Lori take over the ranch until she’d finished college and apprenticed herself under him for several years. So Lori had pushed hard to get through school quickly so she could work with him on the ranch full-time. And now here she was. In charge of Lone Mountain while Dad sent palm-tree postcards from his new home in Florida.

Mandy interrupted her musings. “You’d have known about Wade being back if you left this ranch once in a while.”

Lori glanced at her sister, who’d pulled the cloth off a bowl of bread dough and was kneading briskly. “What do you mean?” Lori tried to remember the last time she’d been in town. “I leave the ranch.”

“When?” Mandy asked. “And going to the feed store doesn’t count. That’s still work.”

Lori shrugged. “I left a couple days ago to yell at Wade. He’s sunk a well above ours, up by the northern edge of the ranch. And now we have no water for the pastures up there.”

Mandy’s pale skin got paler. “That’s horrible, Lori. I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to figure out what to do. Bill says we should just share the water from the new well, but I can’t imagine Wade will be happy about that.”

“You don’t know until you ask.”

“I don’t want to ask.” The knot coiled again in Lori’s stomach at the thought. She shouldn’t have to beg for water. Not from anyone. Definitely not from Wade.

“I know you had some kind of crush on him in high school, but that was ages ago.” Mandy covered the dough again and opened a carton of eggs, cracking them briskly into a pan on the stove.

Lori wished it had stayed a crush. She’d never told Mandy about what happened. About sleeping with him. About the pregnancy. About how she’d handled it. She probably never would. It would upset her sister too much. And the telling would bring no relief. “It’s not that. When I talked to him about the well, I might have gotten a little upset. Said a few things I shouldn’t have.”

“That’s not like you. It goes right back to what I was saying before. You need some time off. A few hours away from this ranch. I can see the responsibility weighing you down. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but let’s go out this weekend. I saw Sunny at the store yesterday. She mentioned that she’s meeting Heather and Tina for drinks on Saturday. She invited us to join them.”

Lori stared. “Who are you, and what did you do with my sister? You hate bars.”

“I know you won’t go on your own.” Mandy turned off the stove and scooped scrambled eggs onto a flowered plate. She handed it to Lori. “If ever someone needed a night out, it’s you. Taking on the ranch has been a huge job. You don’t tell me much, but I know it’s been hard.”

Lori sighed. “It’s just the guys, you know? They question everything I do. They wouldn’t do that if I were a man. It bugs me. It’s so weird to have worked here almost my whole life only to realize that no one’s on my side.”

“I think it’s just an adjustment. They’ll see how amazing you are once they get used to Dad being gone. And I’m on your side. You can talk to me about anything. I’ll try to help wherever I can. Like by taking you drinking on Saturday night.”

Lori smiled. It was just too funny, her homebody little sister trying to get her to go out drinking. It was probably the last thing on earth that Mandy really wanted to do. How could she say no? “You’re right. We should go out. Tell Sunny we’ll be there.”

“And you need to apologize to Wade if you really were out of line. Eat some humble pie. It won’t kill you, and you just might talk him into sharing his well.”

Sometimes Mandy reminded her so much of their mom. Lori’s heart ached a little. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and smiled when her sister giggled.

“You know I’m right,” Mandy retorted.

“I hate humble pie,” Lori grumbled, poking at her eggs with her fork.

“I’ll make you a peach one when you get home,” Mandy offered. “To take away the bitter taste.”

“That’s a nice offer.” But even Mandy’s prize-winning peach pie wasn’t sweet enough to take away the bitterness that Wade Hoffman brought with him when he came home to Marker Ranch.

* * *

IT’S ONLY GROCERY SHOPPING, Wade reminded himself. People do it every day. You get your wallet and step out of the truck and go into the store and shop. But he stayed where he was, white knuckles on the steering wheel, because shopping wasn’t simple anymore.

First of all, now that he was back in Benson, he never knew what kind of reception he’d get. Some places he went, people were fairly friendly. But there was still plenty of suspicion attached to the Hoffman name. He was tailed at the pharmacy as if the clerk thought he was going to run off with all the cold medicine. And whenever he went into the bank, the security guard provided a personal escort for his entire visit. A special perk they provided just for Hoffmans, apparently.

And then there was PTSD. Combat had messed with his perceptions. A loud noise like a motorcycle could suddenly sound like a machine gun. And once he heard it, he’d be on the floor, rolling for shelter, regardless of where he was or who was nearby.

Wade pried his fingers off the steering wheel and exited the cab. Leaning on his ancient truck, he stared at the Blue Water Mercantile. Its weathered sign with a grinning fish jumping into the air was a vintage monument to the 1960s. The Blue Water was out on the outskirts of Benson and far less crowded than the market downtown. But despite all that, Wade was on edge. He just kept imagining himself perusing the aisles, a shopping basket on his arm, and a Harley going by on nearby Highway 395. The Benson gossips would have a field day talking about how poor Wade Hoffman hit the decks, firing a baguette like it was an M60.

He had to man up. A guy who couldn’t even go buy a few groceries was pathetic. Plus, it was early, so he shouldn’t have to worry too much about loud noises. His sister, Nora, who was hell-bent on fixing his PTSD, had advised him to shop in the morning, before things got busy. He had no excuse. It was time to find some courage and buy some food.

He shoved himself away from his pickup and strode to the market door, only to find it locked. He shook it once before realizing the sign read Closed. Feeling foolish, he pulled out his cell phone and glanced at the time. Seven o’clock. Sleep had eluded him last night, so he’d rolled out of bed at first light, relieved to be free of the nightmares that plagued him. But he hadn’t realized it was still so early. Guess that was what happened when his day started at 5 a.m.

Frustrated, he turned to go, wondering what to do with himself in the hour before the store opened. The tinkling of a bell behind him had him turning to face Dan Sanders, the store owner.

“Wade, you’re up early today.”

He could feel his face flush. He was a former army ranger. Since when did he blush like a girl? “Yeah...sorry to bother you. Didn’t realize quite how early it was.”

“Why don’t you come on in?” Dan asked. “You can get your shopping done now. It’s fine. And I’ve got coffee brewing if you want some.”

“Thanks,” Wade said, following the older man into the shop. Dan had thick gray hair and a kind smile. He’d always been good to Wade and Nora, slipping them food and sweets when they were young and their dad forgot to feed them.

He accepted the cup of coffee Dan handed him and sipped it black. Its sharp taste was just what he needed to wipe away the last few cobwebs of the night before.

“How’s everything out at the ranch?” Dan asked. He had a ledger open on the counter. Wade must have interrupted his bookkeeping.

“Coming along, slowly,” Wade answered. And knowing he needed to make some small talk, he asked, “How’s business?”

“Doing better,” Dan answered. “It used to be that most of my customers were tourists, and fishermen getting supplies. But I’m getting more locals these days. I’ve improved my produce section. I’m trying to give the Downtown Market a run for its money.”

Wade smiled, feeling a little more at ease with the chitchat. “It’s nicer here. Way too crowded at the Downtown.”

“That’s what folks have been telling me,” Dan answered. “And speaking of that, I had a talk with your sister a while back.”

Wade’s sense of dignity went on alert. He was Nora’s little brother, and she would go to great lengths to help him out. “Do I want to know what she said?”

Dan laughed. “Well, she’s a little worried about you, I think. And I get it. I fought in Vietnam. I know what it’s like to come home from a war. Getting used to civilian life again is tough.”

Wade shifted his weight uneasily. He wasn’t used to talking like this. Not to someone like Dan. Not to anyone, really, except lately to Nora and Todd. And Dr. Miller. “It’s kind of a challenge,” he admitted. “And starting up the ranch was a crazy idea. I’m learning pretty quickly that I’ve got a lot to learn.”

Dan laughed. “Don’t worry. I almost bankrupted this business a few times when I first started out. There’s a big learning curve when you try something new.”

Wade nodded. “Thanks for the sympathy.” But he didn’t really want more of it. It just didn’t sit well. Maybe it was just his pride talking, but now that he knew his mind didn’t work as well as it used to, pride was all he had left. “I’ll just get my groceries, then.”

He started down the aisles, filling his basket with soups and pasta and other staples. And a baguette that, thankfully, he never mistook for an M60. Then he was back at the counter and Dan was ringing him up.

Wade was just starting to feel relieved that they weren’t going to have any more personal conversations when Dan handed him his receipt and said, “You know, when I first got back from ’Nam, loud noises bugged me a lot. And crowds.” He sighed as if reliving the memory. “Honestly, pretty much everything bugged me. So if you want to come here early, before the store opens, and do your shopping like you did today, that’s no problem.”

“Thanks,” Wade muttered, touched and mortified by Dan’s kindness. Was his PTSD that obvious? Could everyone see it? He grabbed his bag. “I appreciate that.”

“And if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here. I’ll probably understand. It’s an adjustment, Wade. Sometimes it helps to have someone who’s been through it on your side.”

Wade squared his shoulders. He was an army ranger, dammit. Not some emotional ponytailed dude like Dan who wanted to talk about his feelings. “I’m doing good, Dan. I appreciate the offer, though, truly.” Raising his cup of coffee in a brief salute, Wade pushed through the door into the crisp morning air. He could do this. He could shop and ranch and overcome this PTSD thing on his own. He had to. He’d come home to Benson to resurrect the Hoffman ranch and make his family name stand for something much finer than it had before. And that wasn’t going to happen if he sat around telling sob stories with Dan Sanders at the Blue Water Mercantile.


CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_98318538-0050-5716-a724-34aaa02eba08)

LORI SCOWLED AS she turned into Wade’s driveway. Everything about him moving back to Marker Ranch felt unfair. Especially seeing Wade now. He was bent over, sanding the board he’d laid across a couple of sawhorses, his working arm muscles so defined she could see them from here. Unfair. He was dressed in a tight khaki T-shirt and low-slung faded jeans, with a tool belt hanging off his hips. And that was unfair, too. Because he was beautiful and he affected her like no one else ever had. It had always been that way for her, and it wasn’t fair that despite everything that had happened between them, she still couldn’t drag her eyes away.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since he’d stepped out of that shed the other day. Which was also unfair, since she’d devoted years of effort to forgetting him. Obviously it hadn’t worked. Maybe her old desire for him had been lingering this entire time like some kind of cancer, deep in her cells. Now that he was back, it was spreading through her system, and there didn’t seem to be much she could do to stop it. But she couldn’t let it get the better of her. She had to be strong today.

If Wade was surprised to see her, he didn’t let on, just glanced up as her truck bumped down his driveway and shoved a pair of safety glasses up onto his head.

Maybe she was a coward, afraid of the emotions Wade drew out of her, but she was glad she’d brought Jim along. Her ranch foreman had known her since she was a kid. She was far more likely to behave well with him looking on.

“He needs to grade this road,” Jim complained. “My old bones can’t take this kind of jostle.”

Lori forced herself to stop noticing the way Wade’s chest muscles moved when he reached up to wipe sweat from his forehead. “That might have more to do with the state of the shocks on this old truck.”

“Or the state of my shocks,” Jim said with a grin. “I’m telling you, I may just heed your father’s example and get myself a little beach shack down in Florida somewhere.”

Lori glanced his way, wondering if he was serious. “I hope you don’t. Or at least, see me through this first year. Please? It’s a rough one so far.”

Jim’s face creased into a reassuring smile. “You’re doing just fine.”

“I don’t think so. The guys hate me. I swear they roll their eyes every time I ask them to do something.”

“They don’t hate you. But they are testing you.” Jim gripped his door handle with white knuckles when Lori navigated around a pothole so big it might have been a crater. “You’ve always been a spitfire, Lori. Don’t hold back on those guys just because you’re in charge now. If they give you grief, be a smartass and dish it straight back at ’em. When they see you giving as good as you get, they’ll settle down.”

“That’s not the management advice they gave me in college.”

“Well, maybe those college folks don’t know everything.”

“Maybe not. I’ll work on my smartassness.” She shot him a wink and he chuckled.

“I’ll look forward to it. Now park this damn truck before we hit another one of these bumps.”

They were at the end of the drive, where the dusty road widened into the dusty front yard. Lori put the truck into Park and stopped the engine. “You ready for this?”

“Let’s get it over with.” Jim shook his head. “Never did think I’d see the day when I came begging a Hoffman for water.”

As they stepped down from the truck and slammed the doors, Wade came toward them. “Hey, Lori” was all he said. She couldn’t read his expression. She’d never really been able to. Even when they were kids, he’d masked his feelings behind a wall of defiance and attitude—a magnet for her adolescent heart. And right now it was all back. Shielding him. Awakening all of that same ridiculous longing.

“Do you remember Jim Duncan?”

“Of course. Nice to see you again, Jim.”

Lori marveled at Wade’s polite tone, his calm, cordial voice. The military had certainly taught him good manners.

“Nice to have you back, Wade. I can see you’ve already made some improvements on the place.” Jim reached out and shook Wade’s hand.

Lori smiled at Jim, grateful that he was the one buttering Wade up. She knew bringing him with her was a good idea. He’d make sure she kept things professional.

Both men were looking at her expectantly.

She took a bracing breath. “Wade, I said some things the other day that I regret.”

Jim looked at her sharply. She hadn’t exactly filled him in on the details of her and Wade’s previous chat.

“Thank you,” Wade said carefully.

“Your new well had me really worried. It still does.”

“Is that what brings you out here?”

“I met with Bill Cooper about our water situation. He had an idea that might be beneficial to both of us.”

Wade leaned back against the sawhorse behind him and crossed his arms. “Okay,” he said, “shoot.”

Lori swallowed hard. She remembered Mandy’s advice. Humble pie. “He said that trying to drill deeper will only create new problems.” She readied herself for the hard part. “So Bill thought... I thought...maybe we could share the water from your well?”

Wade stared at some spot on the ground in front of his battered work boots. “I don’t know,” he finally answered.

“You don’t know?” It wasn’t what she’d expected, and her voice came out in a squeak.

Jim touched her arm in a silent command to calm down. “Son, it’s like this. The water in your well has been supporting the upper end of Lone Mountain Ranch for a long time. We’re gonna need some of it back.”

Wade nodded slowly. “With all due respect, Jim, I didn’t do anything wrong when I sunk a well on my property. And you don’t know for sure that my well is what caused yours to dry up.”

“But Bill Cooper said so!” Lori regretted the words the second they were out. She sounded like a four-year-old.

“Of course we’d compensate you for the use of your well,” Jim went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Split any maintenance costs, for example.”

“And it would help us manage the existing water in the aquifer more carefully if we were working together,” Lori added. There. That sounded scientific and neutral.

“Look, I get that you guys are in a bind,” Wade said. “But as you know, I’m only just getting started, and this place has been neglected for a very long time. I’ve sunk all I have into this ranch, and my sister’s done the same.”

“I thought I saw Nora the other day,” Jim said. “But I figured my old eyes were playing tricks on me.”

Wade brightened a little at the mention of his sister. They’d always been close. “She’s working as a consultant on range management. But in her free time she’s been here, helping me out.”

“That’s really great,” Lori chimed in. “How nice that you’re working together to start up the ranch again.”

“Thanks.” Wade gave her a glance with eyebrows raised, obviously recognizing her chipper demeanor for what it truly was—desperation. He saw right through her—he always had. It was like he was born with a Lori Allen instruction manual and he’d memorized the whole thing. Back in high school, she’d tried to hide her crush on him, but he’d known the entire time.

“Lori, I want to help. I really do. But I’m new at this. I don’t know how much water I’m going to need, and I don’t want to take any big risks. I’ve got to turn a profit as fast as possible or I won’t be able to make it.”

“I understand that.” Lori tried to calm the anxiety rising inside. “But I need to make a profit, too, and with this drought, we’re on year three of loss. I’ve got cows and calves up in the mountains that I need to bring down, and I’ve been counting on my upper pastures for them. If I can’t irrigate that area, what am I supposed to do?”

Wade shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not saying no to your idea outright. But I’m definitely going to need a little time to crunch the numbers and see if it will work.”

“But it’s not your water.” Lori’s clenched her hands into fists, digging them into the sides of her thighs, trying to keep her temper in check. He held the fate of her ranch in his hands, and he couldn’t be bothered to give her an answer? How could he be so selfish? How could he not say yes?

“I’m sorry, Lori. I promise I’ll look the numbers over this week and get back to you.” Wade stood up a little straighter, as if letting them know the conversation was over.

There had to be a way to make him see reason. “Wade, if this is about the other day...”

“Hang on, Lori.” Jim set a warning hand on her arm. “We appreciate it, Wade. We really do. We’ll look forward to hearing from you.” Jim reached out and shook Wade’s hand and then took Lori firmly by the elbow, steering her to the truck.

Fury seethed inside. She hated this. Hated that Wade had only been on Marker Ranch for a few weeks and he was already causing her trouble. Once again he showed up in her life and destroyed it in one cool, detached move. She turned, ignoring Jim’s murmured warning.

“I take back that apology.”

“I figured you might.” Wade’s jaw was set and stubborn. “Just say your piece, Lori. Then we can both get on with our day.”

She’d heard the term seeing red before. Now she knew what it meant. Anger colored everything. Her, Wade and his damn ranch were all on fire. “What you’re doing is wrong. Wrong! You took our water!”

“I didn’t...”

She didn’t want to hear his excuses. About anything. “There’s a right way to ranch and a wrong way to ranch. And you don’t seem to know the difference. You should listen to people who do know right from wrong. Like Jim here!”

Jim put up a hand in protest, as if telling her to leave him out of her tirade. She was beyond caring.

“You know what, Wade? You can pretend you’re different from your family. That you are back here trying to turn this place into a legal business. But right now you’re acting like just one more Hoffman thief. Just like your brothers! Just like your dad!”

Wade froze as if she’d struck him. If she’d had any kind of large, heavy object, she might have. She was that furious.

Jim’s grip tightened on her elbow, and he tugged.

“Let go of me,” she spat out, still glaring at Wade.

“Lori, that is enough!” Jim barked and all but dragged her the rest of the way to the truck.

As soon as they were inside and she had the engine roaring, he turned to her. “You want to tell me what was going on back there?”

“He’s wrong.” She jerked the wheel, trying to get them turned around and away from Wade as fast as possible.

“Yeah, and he probably would have figured that out if you’d given him the time he was asking for. Instead you just drove him into a corner. I’m pretty sure you can say goodbye to that water.”

“Well, he was already making it pretty clear he wouldn’t share it.”

“He was asking for time to think! Don’t you remember how that kid struggled in school? He probably just needs some time to work out the math and make sure it’s all going to be okay. It was a reasonable request.”

Every word Jim said was true. But there was more to it than he knew. And there was no way she could tell him. “I’m sorry I wasted your time today, Jim,” she said stiffly. “I’ll order some water to tide us over until we get this figured out.”

“That’s an expensive choice.”

His words stung with their truth. “Well, right now it’s my only choice, so I’ll just have to make it work.”

“You say you want to lead this ranch. But your dad wouldn’t have...”

She cut him off before he could go further down that road. “My dad isn’t here anymore. I think we both wish he was sometimes. I’ll figure this out, Jim. I promise. And I’m sorry I messed up today.”

He didn’t answer, and they drove the rest of the way back to the ranch in a clouded silence. Lori just hoped Jim didn’t mention any of this to the rest of the staff. The last thing she wanted was for her already skeptical ranch hands to know that she’d totally lost it and called their neighbor a thief. It wouldn’t help earn their respect. She knew that for certain, because right now she was having trouble respecting herself.


CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_ff9c0f9b-9391-5f1a-92d0-2241d5957ee4)

WADE HANDED HIS sister the sheet of numbers he’d worked out. Units of water required. Current output from the well. Just like it said in his ranching books. “Thanks for coming by to take a look at this.”

But Nora just set his spreadsheet facedown on the dining room table between them. “You don’t get it. It’s not about the numbers.”

He stared at her in shock. “How can you say that? You’re a scientist. You’re all about the numbers!”

“Mostly, yes.” Nora nodded. “But in this case they don’t matter. You just need to do what’s right. You can’t quantify that.”

He’d asked his sister over to look at the facts, not dish out morality. “So you’re saying I should just give her half of my well water?”

“Yes.” She gave him the calm smile he’d relied on for so much of his life. “I think it’s that simple.”

Nerves twisted in his stomach. “But I can’t afford to. It says it right there on that paper.” Wade picked it up again. He’d done his homework last night—almost all night. “Look, I can’t afford to make a big mistake. We don’t have much capital left.”

“Then find a way to make it work despite the numbers. This isn’t just about the water. It’s about being a good neighbor. It’s about being a part of the community.”

“Those things won’t mean much if I fail and lose the ranch.”

“So don’t fail.”

“How?” He stood up, pacing the floor by the table. “How do I not fail if I make decisions based on being nice? This is water we’re talking about. A key ingredient for a ranch.”

Nora gave him a long look. She’d given him the same look many times when he was a teenager and she wasn’t much older than that, and she was trying to raise him right. “Ranches here are failing left and right. Do you really want Lori to lose hers? After how hard she and her family have worked to keep it going all these years? Even after their mom died?”

He remembered how devastated Lori had been. How she’d drifted, sad and empty, through her sophomore year of high school. How she’d grown up after that, become an adult way before the rest of them had, trying to take care of her father and her sister. He’d watched her back then, wishing he knew how to offer comfort. “Of course I don’t want them to lose their ranch. But it’s a business, right? Everything I’ve read about ranching says it’s a business. And we need that water to make our business a success.”

“Any good book on business should also mention that out of hardship can come innovation. You need to let go of some of that water and then innovate. Figure out a way to get by with less.”

“But...”

Nora cut him off. “Your books won’t help with this issue because they’re not written for people experiencing the worst drought in California’s long history of droughts! But you and Lori are smart. And you’ve got me—how many people can say they have an expert on range management in the family? I’ll go though her pastures as well as ours if you want, and see if I can help.”

“I guess.” Wade set the paper aside, trying to put aside his anxiety with it. He was overly cautious. He knew that. Partly because he’d come back here to prove that he could make this a success.

But also because growing up, ranching was his dream. He’d watched the other families in the area with their cattle and horses and their nice clothes and pickups. He’d seen their barbecues and barn raisings and the way they high-fived and slapped backs at local events. And he’d wanted that life. A normal, hardworking life. He’d wanted it badly, and now he had a small chance at making it happen.

He shook his head, trying to loosen the anxious buzzing there. The voice whispering that no matter what he did about the water, he’d find a way to mess this up because failure was in his DNA. He tried to shush it, to see it for what it really was—the aftereffects of months in combat. The whispers of doubt over the smallest decisions. The intense irritation when things didn’t go his way. It was making him rigid. It had him digging his heels in with Lori and Jim the other day. Had him grimly clinging on to what he felt might be the quickest path to security and survival—no matter what the consequences to others.

Nora stood up and reached for his hand, guiding him back down to his seat at the table. “Little bro, take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

He raised his brows at her. “Really?”

“I think so. You’re just in survival mode right now. And it’s making you a little frantic.”

“What do you mean?” He’d been in survival mode before. With bullets hitting the dirt around him as he scrabbled for shelter. This wasn’t that.

“I mean how we grew up. Everyday survival. How to get food, how to get clothes, how to make it without a mom, how to stay out of Dad’s way. I think it’s easy to slip back into that way of thinking, where it’s all about trying to get the next meal.”

Wade traced an old water stain on the table. He hated talking about the past. Hated remembering the searing of his dad’s belt on his back and the ache of hunger in his stomach.

“Sometimes I wonder if all that surviving made us a little hard,” Nora said quietly. “Because we had to look out for ourselves, and focus all our energy on just getting by.”

“That’s a good thing,” Wade countered. “We’re not dependent. We take care of ourselves. It’s made us successful.” It had brought him through some scary battles.

“It can be a good thing,” Nora said gently. “But lately I’ve been thinking about how all the independence that saved us when we were kids may not be quite so helpful now that we’re adults. I mean, we can survive on our own, but don’t you want more than survival? Don’t you want friends and neighbors and... I don’t know...love?”

“Love?” He had to tease her. It was his brotherly duty. “I don’t know about that, seeing as you’ve gone all soft on me since you got together with Todd. Where’s the Nora who taught me to look out for myself and make sure I succeeded?”

“All that’s still important. But if that’s all we do, life’s not going to be very rich, is it? I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. But you asked for my opinion. And my opinion is to ignore the numbers and share the water.”

“It’s not what I expected you’d say.” He crumpled up the paper in disgust. And because he was still her little brother, he threw it at her.

Nora caught it in one hand and grinned. “Glad I can still surprise you, bro. Trust me on this one, okay?”

“Sure. But if that well runs out of water, you’ll help me figure out what to do next, right?”

“I’ll buy you your first water delivery.”

“Ah...so consoling.” He delivered the sarcasm with a smile. “You always were good to me.”

Nora laughed. “Back atcha. And one more piece of advice?”

“Do I have a choice?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Fine. Shoot.” He sat back, waiting for the lecture. He dreaded it mostly because she was probably right. She always had been. Five years older than him and many, many years wiser.

“Look, if you really want to get rid of the legacy of Dad and our brothers, and make the Hoffman name mean something more than larceny and drug deals, you need to get off this ranch. Don’t hide out here. You need to spend some time in town, meet some people. Let everyone see you’ve changed.”

He let out a bark of a laugh. “This from the world’s biggest introvert.”

“Yes, and even I’m trying.”

She was. He’d seen it and admired her for it. Todd was friends with most of the town, and Nora gamely stepped out by his side, quietly facing down anyone who despised her for her family history. “I hate it when you’re right all the time.’

“It’s my job as your older sister.”

“Ha!”

“But seriously, Wade, you need to get out more.”

It was clear she wasn’t going to let him off without a promise. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go out for a beer or something. As long as you let Todd off the leash for a night so he can go with me.”

“I don’t have him on a leash!” she protested, flushing.

Now he was in full-on little brother mode. It was far more comfortable than hearing about his mistakes. “Really? And when’s the last time you two spent more than a couple of hours apart?”

“We like each other!” Nora was beet red now. She’d always blushed easily.

“He’s leashed. Arf arf!”

“Okay, twelve-year-old. You can borrow my fiancé for a night out this weekend. Now, do you need anything else? Because I told Todd I’d meet him for dinner.”

“I rest my case.”

She grinned. “Glad you’re feeling better. Now go fix things with Lori, you big dork.”

* * *

WADE WATCHED NORA’S Jeep disappear down the driveway before he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. He had no idea how he was going to handle the night out he’d just gotten himself into.

And Lori. He’d have to find a way to face her as well. She’d looked like an angry angel on his ranch yesterday, with her hair swirling around her shoulders and her eyes dark with hurt. So different from the way she’d looked at him, full of longing and acceptance and desire, all those years ago, just before they’d made love. Her first time, and the first time it ever mattered for him.

And damn, it had mattered. He’d loved her from a distance through high school. She’d been smart and strong and good at everything she turned her hand to. He’d leaned on the fence down at the arena, watching her win junior rodeo ribbons right alongside the boys her age. He’d seen her name semester after semester on the school honor roll posted in the fancy glass case by the office. He’d listened to her up at the podium delivering student council speeches and stole glances after school when she headed off to cheerleading practice in her cute uniform.

He’d watched her and wanted her and never felt worthy of her. He was the kid from so far down the wrong side of the tracks he might as well have been living in another country. Most days he was lucky to figure out where his meals were coming from, let alone what his homework was. And he covered his misery in the couldn’t-care-less attitude and cigarette-smoking armor of the kids like him. The ones who couldn’t go home until their angry-drunk dads had passed out. The ones who had nowhere to study, or who didn’t have what it took to succeed in school. The almost-dropouts, the almost-failing, the lost kids.

Until that one day when he’d finally gotten himself kicked out of school for good, and she’d offered him comfort and so much more. And he’d taken everything she’d given. And then pushed her away for both their sakes.

And now, when he’d come home a combat veteran, and possibly, finally, worthy of all that she was, he’d blown it. Because of the anxiety that had him grabbing at the things he could touch and see, like gallons of water and spreadsheets of numbers. Anxiety that had him tongue-tied in front of her, unable to give her the water she wanted or the apology she deserved.

He had to do something different. Had to figure out a way around the throttlehold the PTSD had on him. Because it wasn’t just affecting him. It was hurting Lori, the girl he’d loved, who’d given him memories he’d held on to like a talisman during all the dark and fear-filled nights in Afghanistan, when he wasn’t sure he’d make it back alive.

* * *

DR. HERNANDEZ KNELT over the heifer lying in the dry grass. The young cow was breathing heavily in the soft evening air. Wade could feel his breathing catch right along with hers.

“Did you check the papers carefully when you bought these gals?” the vet asked.

Wade racked his stressed-out brain, trying to picture what the seller had given him. It had been a hectic day. He’d injured his shoulder and Nora had handled the delivery. “Well, I know I got papers. And the seller said they’d had all their shots.”

“Yes, but did he hand you a certificate from a veterinarian? Did you have a vet look them over before you accepted them?”

“No.” He watched the doctor’s brows draw together as he surveyed the rest of the herd. About a quarter of the heifers were standing around listlessly. “I guess I should have.”

“Yup.” The vet sighed. “It’s okay, Wade. It’s a pretty common mistake.”

Dr. Hernandez wasn’t much older than him, and Wade appreciated his blunt honesty. It was what he was used to after the army. “So I messed up. What can I do to fix it?”

“It’s a respiratory illness. They probably never got their booster shots. It’s treatable. You need to separate out the sick ones and give them antibiotics. And they’re all going to need to be vaccinated. Come on over to my van and I’ll get everything ready for you.” He paused. “You know how to give them shots, don’t you?”

He’d read about how to give them shots. He knew he should confess his ignorance, but he couldn’t stand to have the doctor think he was an even bigger fool. “Yeah,” he said casually. “That’s not a problem.” But then he remembered Lori’s harsh words of advice. A rancher needed to face mistakes and fix them fast. These cattle depended on him. There was no room for pride here. “Actually, no, not really.”

“Look,” Dr. Hernandez said as he opened a box in his van. “I can show you really quick, but do you have anyone who can help you out? Maybe someone who can mentor you a bit? Cattle ranching is complicated—a lot can go wrong. And if too much goes wrong, it can be dangerous for you, for the animals and even for the consumer.”

Wade watched the doctor measure out liquid into a glass bottle. He didn’t relish folks around here knowing how little experience he had running a ranch. There was only one person he could possibly confess that to. And she’d called him a thief yesterday.

His sister had been right. He might need water, but he needed his neighbor even more. Lori was the smartest person he knew, and one of the most capable ranchers in the area as well. If he shared the water, she’d help him. She had to. He was desperate, and underneath her frustration with him, she was a generous person.

And maybe desperation was just what he needed to push him through the anxiety. To get him to finally say the things he should have already. Things like I’m sorry. And I wish I’d acted differently. “Yeah, I know someone,” he told the vet.

“Great. Have him get over here as soon as possible. You’ll need an extra hand.”

Funny how the vet immediately assumed that Wade was talking about a guy. Lori probably had to be extra tough, trying to make it in a profession so dominated by men. Which would help explain why she’d been so tough with him over the water. Though he’d also been an insensitive, scared jerk. That would probably explain it better.

He remembered, suddenly, being a kid at school. How he’d almost never had a lunch with him. How Lori had always offered to share hers. She’d fed him just about every day for years. And then he’d turned his back on her when she came to him about the water? What the hell was wrong with him? How had he started making all of his decisions out of fear?

He turned to the doctor with a new resolve. “I’ve got someone I need to apologize to. And if I do it right, I hope she’ll give me a hand around here. She’s the best rancher I know.”


CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_20ef3693-7031-556d-b1bf-671e0465c0f4)

JIM WALKED OUT of the barn with a cardboard shipping box and dropped it in the dirt at Lori’s feet. She stepped back as a small dust cloud rose up.

“What are these contraptions?” Jim reached down and pulled out a yellow plastic crescent, holding it gingerly between two fingers.

Lori grinned at the ranch manager. “They’re the calf weaners I was telling you about.” She grabbed one and held it up for him to see. “This part hooks into the calf’s nostrils. Then it can’t nurse.”

“Do you really think we need ’em?” Jim flexed the plastic between his gnarled fingers. “When your dad was here, we kept it simple. Cows in one pasture, calves in another. Split ’em up fast and got it over with. We didn’t need these crazy-looking nose flaps.”

Was it worth arguing? The last thing she wanted was Jim feeling like he’d been wrong all those years. “Ah, come on, Jim, they’ll look cute!”

Jim shook his head and tossed the weaner back into the box. Lori studied his weathered face. Beneath his resistance she saw all his old kindness there. He wasn’t trying to undermine her. He was just having trouble with change.

“The way you and Dad did it worked fine,” she reassured him. “But there’ve been some studies lately, proving that stress during weaning is bad for cattle. They lose weight. Calves get sick.”

Jim shuffled the heel of his boot in the dust. “I don’t know what scientists have to do with ranching.”

“With a weaner in place, a calf can’t nurse, so it can stay with its mom while it weans. That keeps it calm when it suddenly can’t drink milk. And since we won’t separate the calves from their moms until after they’re weaned, they don’t fuss nearly as much once they’re apart.”

“They’ve always gotten over it pretty quick.” He gave her a stubborn glare.

“Have they?” Lori tamped down her frustration and walked with Jim over to the fence where Dakota was tied. She pulled the strap on the mare’s cinch tight, looping the extra leather into a knot.

“The calves do a lot of bawling and pacing during weaning,” she reminded Jim gently. She untied Dakota and reached for the reins, slipping her boot into the stirrup. She was heading out to take a look at some of the weeds coming up in one of their eastern pastures. With the drought, more unwelcome plants were taking root.

Jim nodded slightly. “Well, sure, there was some of that.”

From up on her mare’s back, Lori tried one more time. “Last year Dad and I went to Reno for that seminar on calm cattle management, remember? This is the kind of stuff we learned. By making a less stressful environment for the cows and calves, we improve their well-being. And lower our workload and raise our profits.”

A snide voice interrupted their conversation. “Why don’t you just light them some nice candles and give ’em a massage?”

F off. Lori bit her lip to keep from saying it out loud. Seth Garner was such a jerk. She hadn’t realized he’d been listening in.

The ranch hand sauntered over from where he’d been loading hay into a truck. He was smiling, but his face didn’t hold the same kindness as Jim’s. She’d never liked him much, but ever since she’d taken over the ranch, Seth had been grumbling about taking orders from a woman. Lori wondered if he lay awake nights, thinking of new ways to undermine her. He certainly was inventive about it.

He glanced at his watch as if noting the lost time between his quip and her answer. Lori swallowed. Why should she be nervous? This was her ranch. She saw Jim wink at her and remembered his advice from the other day. Dish it right back.

“Don’t you have work to do?” She drew herself up extra tall in the saddle.

“I was just doing some work.” Seth leaned against the rail, folding his arms over his chest and crossing his legs casually. “Following my boss lady’s orders and loading that truck over there with hay.”

Boss lady. The words dripped with sarcasm and puddled like murky water. Lori backed Dakota up a few paces so she could see Seth’s face under his hat. She met the challenge in his eyes, but forced her voice into a tone way sweeter than she felt right now. “Well, thanks for getting that done. Now, I’m pretty sure they could use an extra hand cleaning up the floor over at the white barn. Since you’re taking the hay down there anyway, why don’t you take a shovel with you? You can stay and help them out.”

Seth’s cheeks paled except for some flecks of red on his cheekbones. “That’s not my job.”

“It’s fall, Seth. We have a lot to get done this time of year and we’ve all got to do our part. Plus, I am your boss lady. So you’d best get started.”

Seth’s eyes bugged, and he stared at her, stuck without a snide comeback for once.

She turned Dakota to go, but Jim’s soft voice had her pausing.

“Well done, there, Lori.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Jim picked up the box of calf weaners. “I’ll just get started putting these on,” he told her, his voice louder than usual, so Seth could hear. “Seems like weaning is gonna go a lot easier with you at the helm.” He shot her a wink that Seth couldn’t see.

Bless Jim. He might grumble and question the decisions she made in private, but he’d support her 100 percent in front of the others.

“I appreciate that, Jim,” she said. “I’ll be back to help out in a few minutes.” She didn’t have to look at Seth to know he was scowling. And that she’d scored her first real win in her struggle to take the reins of Lone Mountain Ranch.

She turned to go and spotted Wade leaning on the fence near the white barn, watching her intently. The last time they’d seen each other, she’d been yelling. Now he’d seen her go head-to-head with Seth. Well, at least he wouldn’t have any illusions that she was the sweet young girl he’d left behind. She walked Dakota over to him, bracing herself for whatever their next confrontation would be.

He was wearing that old straw cowboy hat that made his dark eyes even more impenetrable in the shadows beneath the brim.

“Looks like you showed him.”

She glanced at Seth, slouching back to his truck, radiating a bad attitude that she could feel from here. “I hope I didn’t upset him too badly. He’s just been giving me such a hard time. But now he looks angrier than ever.”

“Hey, it’s your ranch. Run it how you want. If he hates it, he’ll leave and go work somewhere else, and you’ll both be better off.”

“That would be awesome. He hates having a boss lady, as he calls me.”

Wade grimaced. “Well, keep an eye on him. If he doesn’t come on board soon, fire him.”

He seemed to come in peace, at least. So she teased him a little. “Listen to you, all managerial.”

“I learned a thing or two leading a platoon.” He sobered, took off his hat and looked right into her eyes. “But evidently I don’t know much about being a good neighbor. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the answer you wanted about the water. I just needed time. And honestly, I was scared.”

“Scared?” He’d always seemed so tough. It had never occurred to her that he was even familiar with that emotion. “What are you scared of?”

“Failing. I don’t know what I’m doing with the ranch, and it makes me too careful about certain things and not careful enough about others. So with the water, I just balked. I didn’t want to make a mistake that could cost me the ranch.”

“Well, I know that feeling. Too well.”

His mouth softened into a brief smile. “But I’ve realized that you were right. We should share the water.”

Relief relaxed muscles she hadn’t even realized she was tensing. She wanted to raise a fist and shout hooray, but she kept herself calm. “That’s great news. Thank you.”

“And I brought you something.” He pulled a carrot out of his back pocket, the greens still on it, and held it up like a bouquet. “I would have brought apology flowers, but I knew you’d be working and there wouldn’t be any place for them. This seemed better.”

“It’s perfect.” He understood her, and it warmed her a little inside. She turned Dakota sideways and reached for the carrot, shoving it in the back pocket of her jeans. “I’ll share it with Dakota later on, if that’s okay.”

“That’s the idea.”

It was her turn to apologize. Her horrible words had been eating at her ever since she’d stormed off his ranch. “I’m sorry I said so many rude things.”

“I reckon I deserved it.”

“Maybe a little...” She couldn’t resist.

He acknowledged the teasing with a brief smile and rushed on. “But I hope you can help me with something.”

“What do you need?”

He flushed a little. Swallowed hard. “Look, I’m new at this ranching thing. I mean, growing up, we had animals pass through, but mainly my dad was stealing them from one person and selling them to another, so they never stayed around long. I have no idea what I’m doing. Seeing your ranch running so smoothly... How do you do it?”

Wade asking her for ranching tips? Not what she’d expected when she’d seen him standing there. “Well, part of it is that I’ve been doing it forever and I studied it in school, and part of it is that I’ve been trying out some new management practices. As you can see—” she inclined her head slightly to where a group of men were standing around Jim with bemused expressions on their faces “—it’s going over really well with the staff.” Sarcasm couldn’t mask her frustration.

“They may give you grief about it, but I’d bet deep down most of them are pretty impressed.”

She swung down from Dakota, since evidently Wade was here for a long chat, and tossed the reins over the mare’s neck so she could go get a drink at the trough. “I hope you’re right. Those are calf weaners they’re holding. Calves weaned with this method retain thirty percent more body weight because they’re not panicked and pacing everywhere.” Wade was staring at her, mouth slightly open, looking stunned. She flushed, realizing she’d probably stupefied him with her love of data. “I’m sorry. I can go on about this kind of thing for hours.”

To her surprise, he smiled. A first since she’d seen him again. Dimples cutting into his stubbled cheeks, lines crinkling his dark eyes—it was all as knee weakening as she remembered.

“That’s exactly why I need your help,” he said.

She studied his eyes, trying to understand his meaning. Bad idea. They were too much for her—all dark and potent like strong coffee. Only they made her a lot more jittery than coffee did. “My help?”

“I know you’ve been angry at me. And for good reason. I shouldn’t have dug my heels in about the water. And now here I am, asking for...” He paused, turning his hat in his hand. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but she could hear the edge in it. “Honestly, I’m desperate. I need to learn about ranching. When I got my first bunch of heifers a few months ago, I didn’t know they’d need a booster vaccine...”

“...and they’ve got respiratory illness,” she finished for him.

His eyes went wider. “You know your stuff. But I don’t. The vet showed me how to give them shots, but it’s just not going that smoothly. I was hoping you’d consider coming by and giving me a hand.”

He was in trouble if he didn’t know how to do such a basic task. But help him? As in, spend time with him? Lori turned to retrieve Dakota, who’d finished drinking and was starting to wander off, gathering her thoughts as she gathered the horse’s reins. She wanted to be someone who helped her neighbors, but working with Wade wasn’t a good idea.

“Look, if you can help me, I’ll give you first pick when we make our irrigation schedule. I’ll hire Bill Cooper, and you can set everything up with him so it suits your needs. But in exchange, I’m asking for your help. Teach me how to give the shots. How to handle the cattle well. I’m reading books all the time, but I have so many questions, so many gaps in what I know. I need a mentor, Lori. I need you.”

Damn him, he made begging look noble—and sexy. And when he added first priority on irrigation to the mix...well, how was she supposed to resist? But mentoring meant a lot more time together. “I don’t know, Wade. I’m happy to help out with the injections, but I’m new at running my own ranch. I honestly don’t have much time. Isn’t there someone else you can ask?”

“Who’s going to want to mentor a Hoffman?”

There was pain and truth behind his words. She looked at him for a long moment. What he was proposing was dangerous. To her heart, to the regrets she tried hard to lock away so they wouldn’t overwhelm her. But he was trying to make something of himself. Trying to prove himself. She understood that. She was living that.

“All right. We’ll try it.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, relief written stark across his face. “I promise I’ll take as little of your time as possible.”

He reached over the fence and put a light hand on her shoulder. “I’m truly grateful, Lori.”

He was looking at her like she was his guardian angel. His salvation. And then the reality of this, of them, tensed every muscle. How would he look at her if he knew what she’d done? With hatred? Disgust? Pity? Certainly not like this. “No problem,” she muttered through clenched teeth. Ducking out from under his hand, she turned, put her foot into Dakota’s stirrup and swung onto the mare’s back. “I’d better get going. I’ll come by later today.”

He was studying her face, obviously puzzled by her sudden change in mood. Well, let him wonder. When you slept with someone and then disappeared, you lost your right to explanations.

“See you this afternoon, then.” His voice was quiet, his reserve back.

“Yup” was all she could get out. She turned Dakota away, trying to breathe through the whirlpool of feelings. Regret, shame, old anger and the newest, unwelcome addition to the general chaos of her emotional life: excitement. This partnership meant they’d be spending more time together. And against all common sense, a part of her was happy about that.


CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_61829c30-2f19-599f-8a25-697c730acb36)

CANCELING THE WATER truck was a huge relief. But driving onto Wade’s ranch to help with the injections brought on a whole other kind of stress. How was she going to handle seeing him regularly? The rutted driveway jolted some sense into her. You’re a mentor. So just treat him the way you’d treat any other rancher in the area who needed some help.

Ha. Maybe she could pull it off on the outside. She could talk cattle and keep it professional. But that wouldn’t stop her insides from churning with nerves. Or keep her traitorous heart from noticing his beauty and remembering all the things she’d loved about him when they were young.

She parked her truck and grabbed her tool belt from the back, buckling it tight around her hips. Shoving her hat on her head to block the afternoon sun, she headed toward the dilapidated barn. Wade was around the side of it, leaning on the fence, staring at his cattle. They were a sorry lot. Listless.

He turned when he heard her footsteps, giving her a weak smile. “Thanks for coming. Here are my sick girls.” He frowned and turned back toward the heifers. “I hate that my ignorance did this.”

His ignorance. She had a lot of experience with the damage that could wreak. But he looked grateful, which put a pathetic sweetness onto his usually severe face. No. No noticing sweetness. “It’s no problem.”

He looked down at her waist. “You brought your tool belt? For injections?”

“We’re not injecting yet. We’re taking a look at your cattle chute first.”

“What’s wrong with my chute?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced around the run-down property. “Probably a lot. Trust me?”

“Sure. But I worked on the chute already. Take a look.” He walked her over. She could see where he’d replaced boards and pounded in loose nails that could tear hide. Maybe a year ago she’d have said it was fine. Now she knew better. “Do you have any plywood?”

“Sure.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”

“If you want them to go in for injections calmly, we should board up the sides of your chute so they can’t see out. Want to try it?”

“Lori Allen, Cow Whisperer. Is that what it says on your business card?”

Her own laugh surprised her. She had no idea he could be funny. “I don’t have a business card. I just took a few classes.”

“I’ll get the wood.” He headed off around the side of the barn, whistling. She tried to remember if he’d ever teased her like this, or whistled like this, when she’d known him years before. He’d been serious, hard and mysterious. That was probably why she’d been crazy about him. He’d been different. Opposite. A better kid than his brothers, but always teetering just on the edge of the dangerous cliff they’d plummeted down years before.

She’d been drawn to him, recognizing his softness and intelligence under that tough veneer during the rare opportunities they’d had to talk. And that wildness—that edge he walked—had been so compelling. Maybe because sometimes she wished she could do something a little wild.

Stop it. She wasn’t here to think about Wade, or the past. She was here to look at his cattle chute. And she could see a few problems already. An old wire dangled from the barn eaves, right before the chute ended in the stanchion. A piece of corrugated metal had been nailed to a post for some reason. She jumped up onto the rail and pulled out her hammer, using the claw end to pry it off.

Wade leaned a few sheets of plywood against the chute. “Why are you worrying about that?”

“The sun is hitting it.” The last nail popped out. “The glare can scare the cattle when they come into the chute. You have to remember that they’re prey. Anything out of place frightens them.”

Lori showed him how to nail the plywood sheets along the sides of the chute, and he got to work. She listened to the rhythm of Wade pounding nails as she made her way to the wire. Climbing up the side of the chute, she pulled wire cutters out of her belt to remove the dangling ends. A simple fix for a potentially big problem. She wished all her difficulties could be solved with a quick snip of her wire cutters. One small cut and Wade and his ranch would disappear. But the thought made her sad—she didn’t want him to disappear again, which was why this was all way too complicated.

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she went to help Wade, holding the boards steady while he nailed. It was the first time in years she’d been so close to him, their bodies almost touching. She could almost feel his muscles flexing under his flannel shirt as he drove the nails in. It wasn’t possible. They weren’t touching. But the strength of him seemed to emanate with a tangible force. Maybe this was why she’d never dated much. What guy had she ever met could match Wade in sheer masculinity?

She shifted position so she was still holding the board but standing as far away from him as she could. He must have noticed, because he glanced her way with a wry smile curling his full lower lip. “I won’t bite.”

Heat crept across her face. “I hope not,” she retorted. “But just in case, maybe I should work on the next board.” She turned away, grabbing a new piece of plywood and a handful of nails. It was better to work on her own section of the chute. Preferably one far away from Wade.

She positioned the wood and slammed the first nail in. She needed to be careful. Her heart had been trampled by this man, and here she was, ogling him the first moment they were alone together. She had to remember that all of the attraction she felt for him belonged to the stupid girl she’d been long ago. The woman she was now knew trouble when she saw it, and had the sense to keep her distance. Sure, she could notice he was good-looking. Who wouldn’t? But she had to remember that it was like noticing a pretty desert wildflower or a nice view. It was easy on the eyes, but had no other significance whatsoever.

* * *

HE’D FORGOTTEN HOW sassy she could be. He liked it. He’d never met anyone like Lori—who could dish out smart comments and run a ranch and refurbish a cattle chute in half an hour. She had sweat on her face and dirt streaked across one cheek, and she was still gorgeous. And there was something about her in that tool belt. The old, worn leather, slung low on her hips, emphasized her curves there, her tiny waist above and the faded, fitted jeans below. But he didn’t just admire how she looked. The sexiest part about Lori in a tool belt was the way she handled the tools with the confidence of someone who’d been using them all her life

He had to keep in mind that she was here because she was kind. The type of person who’d always try to help out a neighbor. And she was here because she needed the water in his well. Whatever he felt were just his feelings and had nothing to do with hers. It was a shame, but reality often was.

He walked over to where Lori was hammering in the last board. He held it steady for her, making sure to give her the space she obviously wanted.

“Ready to bring one through?” she asked, shoving the hammer back into her belt.

“Ready if you say we are.” No way was he even going to pretend he was in charge. She was here to work her magic, and his job was to stand back and learn from the master. And that was okay. He had a lot to learn.

It was ridiculously easy to get the cattle through now that the chute had solid sides. Lori showed him how to walk just outside a heifer’s flight zone, using small motions to guide her. Just enough to keep her moving, not enough to frighten her.

Once a heifer was in the chute, Lori demonstrated how to slide the needle below the skin to deliver the medication. She made it look easy. Her comfort with it, and her calm, clear explanations, soon had him relaxed enough to do it on his own.

The setting sun lit the paddock in a rosy glow, but they kept working. By the time they sent the last heifer back to the pasture and threw out piles of alfalfa in hopes of tempting their appetites, it was deep dusk. Wade walked Lori back to her truck. He didn’t want her to go. Ever since he’d left the army he’d sought solitude, but it was easy to be in her company. She was so confident, making all the ranch chores that were new to him seem commonplace. For the first time he felt like he might have a real chance to make Marker Ranch a success. With her help, at least he wouldn’t totally mess it up.

Plus, there was the total miracle that she was actually here with him. Beautiful, perfect Lori Allen. She was like a clear, crisp spring day. The kind you wanted to go on forever.

She’d always been that for him. An oasis where he could escape from his Dad’s anger and conniving, cowardly way of life. When they were young she’d been the only person, besides Nora, who’d seen the good in him. Nothing much, just small gestures when their paths crossed at school. He’d kept her as his oasis—or maybe his haven—when he’d been in Afghanistan. When he’d seen so much bad that it seemed there wasn’t anything good left in the world, he’d think of Lori. Remembering her smile, with her pink lips parting over teeth like pearls. Or the way she’d squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a little higher when something needed to be done. He’d picture her tenderness toward her little sister. Mostly he’d think about how she looked at him with dark blue eyes that seemed to hold a bit of the dusky mountain sky inside. And the way it had felt to spend a night in her arms.

Living with the prospect of death around every corner put things in perspective. In long nights lying in his bunk, or on the ground when he was out on a mission, he’d had time to think about what he wanted in life. And he’d narrowed it down to three things. His family’s ranch, time with his sister, Nora, and a chance to show Lori Allen the man he’d become. And for some reason, he was lucky enough that all three of those things might be coming true.

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” The words were out before he’d realized he was going to say them.

“No.”

He shouldn’t be surprised. But her answer was so quick, so definite, that it stung. She didn’t even need a moment to consider.

“I mean, no thanks, Wade.” He could hear the apology and something else in her rushed tone. “Mandy’s cooking. I wouldn’t want to be rude and make another plan.”

“It’s no problem,” Wade assured her, glad the deepening night hid the flush he was sure was on his cheeks. He wished there was a way to take the question back, because now it hung there, making things awkward when they’d been so good just a moment ago. “Thanks again for your help tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” She shrugged. “Hey, I need that water.”

“Right.” He had to remember that this was a business arrangement for her. Not a friendship. That she didn’t see him the way he saw her. She’d never needed him for an oasis or a haven or anything.

“So is it okay to have Bill start working on the well?” she asked. “I’ll have his guys start laying the pipe down.”

“Sure.” Her eagerness to get started was one more reminder that her help today had been a simple trade.

She climbed lightly up into her pickup, and he closed the door behind her. The window was down. She leaned her forearm on the frame, gazing up at him. “Look, Wade. I’m glad things are a little better between us. I’m fine helping you out with your ranch, and I’m glad that we’re solving the water issue.”

She paused and he filled in the silence. “I’m glad, too.”

“When you left Benson, you said some really hurtful things.”

He winced at the memory. “I have wanted to apologize for them ever since.”

She held up a palm to stop him. “Look, it was years ago. I don’t need that. But I got hurt then. It was hard for me. And I don’t want to go back there. I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say is that going to dinner...well, it would be too much.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/claire-mcewen/return-to-marker-ranch/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.