Книга - A Montana Cowboy

A Montana Cowboy
Rebecca Winters


A Cowboy’s LegacyTen years ago, Trace Rafferty left Montana to serve his country. Now the wounded Navy flyer is coming back to sell the only home he’s ever known. But someone else is living on his hundred-year-old family ranch—a woman Trace hasn’t seen since she was a teenager. How can he turn attractive, widowed–and pregnant–Cassie Bannock out of her home?Cassie knows her housekeeping days on the Rafferty spread are numbered. Yet she can’t believe Trace would turn his back on his heritage. In or out of uniform, the former F-16 pilot is still the handsomest man she’s ever seen. Without a true home, in addition to a real and looming threat to her and her unborn baby, can Cassie protect her legacy and help a homecoming cowboy claim his?







“You’re so good to me.”

Their mouths were achingly close. He brushed his lips against hers out of need. “It’s because you’re so easy to please I want to do everything for you.”

“Trace …” This time she took the initiative and pressed her lips against his. That was all it took to deprive him of his last shred of self-control. Maybe he was dreaming, but her mouth seemed to welcome his, urging him to kiss her and hold nothing back.

He pulled her against him, loving the shape of her, the fragrance of her hair, the softness of her skin. She’d aroused his passion on so many levels, he didn’t know how he was going to stop, but he had to. He could feel her baby. Much as he wanted to make love to her, he couldn’t. This wasn’t the time, or the place. Cassie needed to be able to trust him.

Let go of her now, Rafferty.


A Montana Cowboy

Rebecca Winters






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


REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favorite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church.

Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her website, cleanromances.com (http://cleanromances.com).


To my editor Kathleen, who allows me

to write the books of my heart. What joy!


Contents

Cover (#uadd7e739-985d-5a1f-aa29-42a161865905)

Introduction (#u98b492c0-7185-5432-8884-2a374a0af807)

Title Page (#u0ed79fec-b3ae-5654-b90f-541370ab7085)

About the Author (#u900af426-52c8-513e-8076-b0ac6272adda)

Dedication (#u773cca2b-3c99-5e20-8a48-342f210b5313)

Chapter One (#u8650e093-bdab-5f7d-ba1e-62dd8ef63391)

Chapter Two (#u8611d447-941e-5a90-a5fe-f7d64cfba237)

Chapter Three (#u1f198935-83cd-56b3-be18-b8176ac89d56)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_f9587b00-c071-5042-9a00-cc0f1496fd9e)

Captain Trace Rafferty of the Thirty-First Fighter Wing out of Aviano Air Base was coming home for good, much sooner than he’d expected.

Since leaving Italy, where his squadron had flown F-16s critical to operations in NATO’s southern region, he’d been in Colorado Springs, Colorado, for the past few days talking with the higher-ups. Having been forced to retire as a jet pilot from the Air Force at twenty-eight due to an eye injury, he’d decided to accept a flight instructor position at the Air Force Academy.

Trace had been asked to stay on with the Thirty-First as a flight navigator, but after being a pilot, he couldn’t do it. The Academy was giving him time to get his affairs in order before he went to work for them. He would use this time to tell his father about his future plans...plans his father wasn’t going to be happy about.

Sam Rafferty, known as Doc, was a cowboy and rancher besides being the head veterinarian in White Lodge, Montana. A year ago he’d married Ellen Neerings, a pretty brunette widow from the same town, and they lived in a condo. His arthritic hips had made it impossible for him to live and take care of things on the ranch any longer.

Ellen’s husband had died several years earlier. With the sale of their small family home, she’d been able to pay off mounting debts because of her husband’s long illness, but she’d been left with little to live on.

Both she and Trace’s father had sacrificed too much for their families. His dad should have the money from the sale of the ranch to buy him and Ellen a new house of their own in White Lodge with every convenience. She had two married children and needed more space for them and her grandchildren when they came to visit from other parts of the state.

Since Trace wasn’t going to live in Montana, selling the ranch was the only sensible solution to make his father’s life more comfortable, but he knew it was a subject that would bring his dad pain. The ranch, located in the south central part of the state bordering Wyoming, had been in the Rafferty family for close to a hundred years. Trace hated the fact that his father had done so much for him all his life, virtually supporting him and his mother, even after she’d remarried. It was Trace’s turn to give back.

His parents had divorced when he was eight years old. His mother had settled in Billings, only forty minutes away, taking him with her. She didn’t like the ranch’s isolation and preferred the amenities of living in town.

His dad had moved heaven and earth to be with his son as much as possible during those years. After living with such a kind, laid-back father, it had been hard for Trace to adjust to being around the rigid-type man his mother married soon after the divorce. When Trace turned eighteen, he joined the air force. His mom now lived in Oregon with her husband.

Trace hadn’t come back to the United States very often and traveled home to visit his parents on his infrequent leaves. Over the past year the ranch had stood empty. While no one lived there, his dad had hired a former ranch hand named Logan Dorney from the neighboring Bannock ranch to be the foreman on the place until Trace claimed it for his inheritance. But Trace learned the other man had been accidentally killed by a stray bullet from a hunter in February.

Except for Logan’s widow, Cassie Dorney, formerly Cassie Bannock, who came in to do the housekeeping once in a while, the ranch no longer had a foreman. Trace would take over that job until the place was sold. Again, all this had to be discussed with his father who knew nothing yet about Trace’s plans.

When the fasten-seat-belt sign flashed on, he’d been deep in thought. It surprised him that the flight from Denver to Montana had been so short. He looked out the window. As the plane made its descent to the Billings airport, he decided summer was the best time to see the patches of wheat and corn fields. Below him lay a different mosaic from the farms dotting the Italian countryside he’d so recently left.

Soon the Yellowstone River came into view under a June sun. The airport itself sat on top of Rimrock, a unique five-hundred-foot-tall sandstone feature rising from the valley floor. It all looked familiar, but Trace felt little sense of homecoming.

After the jet landed and he’d picked up his bags, he grabbed a taxi and asked the driver to take him to the Marlow Ford dealership where he’d arranged to have his new Ford Explorer waiting for him. He inspected the vehicle and liked its Kodiak-brown color.

Trace took off for White Lodge, anxious to spend a little quality time with his father. It had been six months since they’d last seen each other. But when he dropped by the vet clinic, the new vet, Clive Masters, who’d replaced Liz Henson since her marriage to Connor Bannock, said Trace’s dad was out on an emergency.

The world he’d once known kept going through changes. You couldn’t go back and find everything the same. He understood that, but the thought added to his depression.

“Doc Rafferty has been expecting you. He said if you came while he was gone, he wants you to drive out to the ranch and get settled. When he’s through, he’ll meet you there.”

“Good enough. Nice to meet you, Clive.”

“I guess you know your dad thinks the world of you.”

“He’s my hero,” Trace replied, which was only the truth. “See you again soon.”

Trace got back in the Explorer and headed for the ranch bordering the Bannock’s huge spread outside White Lodge.

For the past few years his dad had opened up the Rafferty property to seasonal hunters with permits. Whenever Trace thought about the ranch, it filled him with remembered pain over his parents’ divorce and the move to Billings, wrenching him away from his dad. At least when he started work in Colorado, he’d be able to see his dad a lot more often as Sam and Ellen could drive over to visit him.

The old ranch house with the deep porch was set back from the road in the forested area. Two streams running brook trout and cutthroats ran through it. A perimeter dirt road to the side of the property led past crop land that opened up into pasture where cattle could graze. At one time his father had done it all, and had grown alfalfa and barley besides, but that portion lay fallow now.

To reach the house, you took the right fork in the road. There was only one other road before you reached it. This one led to an abandoned logging site and trailed into national forest land. At least here nothing looked changed about the area until he came in sight of the house.

He put on his brakes. At first he thought he must have come to the wrong place. The old log cabin had been freshly stained. Its big picture window and the attic window were now framed by exterior wooden shutters exquisitely hand painted with wildflowers of every color.

The addition of white wicker porch furniture with pale yellow padding and several large baskets of multicolored flowers hanging beneath the eaves added bright spots of color. He found that the changes transformed the place, making it inviting in a way it had never been before.

His father must have hired a decorator from town to come out and get all this ready in order to welcome Trace home. The knowledge filled him with guilt over what he planned to do. Those years of working on the ranch with him on visitation were over. Sam Rafferty’s cowboy son wasn’t a cowboy anymore.

Curious to know who was responsible for the actual transformation of the house, he parked around the side next to an unfamiliar green pickup truck. He jumped down from the cab. The barn in back had been freshly stained, too. Everything looked in fabulous shape!

He walked around behind it where his dad had built a kennel for their dog, which stood empty now. Remembered pain propelled Trace back to the front door of the house. He knocked. Even though he had a key to get in, he’d seen the truck and didn’t want to walk in unannounced on whoever was here. While he waited, he admired the professional quality of the artwork on the panels.

They reminded him of the shutters you saw on hundreds of alpine-style homes in the Alps. Trace never dreamed his father would go to this extent to make him excited about being home for good.

When no one answered the door, he left the porch and walked around the other side of the house where he was met with another surprise. The ground cover that had always grown next to the house had been cleared to accommodate a well-tended garden full of strawberry plants and raspberry bushes planted in rows. The strawberries looked ripe for the picking and smelled delicious on this hot Tuesday afternoon.

Trace caught a glimpse of someone working between the rows. Curious to know who was there, he walked down one of them. As he got closer he saw it was a woman with wavy blond hair to the shoulders, gilded by the sun.

“Hello?” he called to her.

She lifted her head and got to her feet, holding a basket under her arm partially filled with strawberries. The raspberries hadn’t ripened completely yet. The last time Trace had seen Cassie Bannock she was in her early teens. It strained the imagination that anyone in the well-heeled Bannock clan would be working as a housekeeper.

When Trace could sit down with his father, he’d find out the whole story behind it, but first things first. She was of medium height, her well-endowed body filled out an aqua-colored cotton top she wore over a pair of jeans. On her feet she wore cowboy boots. He found himself staring at her. She was blooming with health. He’d heard the term before, but she personified it.

“Captain Rafferty!”

“Call me Trace.”

She laughed gently. “I couldn’t resist. I’ve never met a jet pilot before.” Her light green eyes smiled as she moved toward him. “You probably don’t remember me.”

Her coloring was different from that of her brunette cousin, Avery Lawson, another Bannock who was now married. But they both had the natural beauty of the Bannock genes in the classic shape of their faces and more voluptuous figures. Both were the same age, twenty-six or twenty-seven by now as he recalled.

“Of course I do. The last time I saw you I think you were about twelve to my thirteen. You’d come with your grandfather Tyson to the vet clinic because your pet colt was sick and there was no consoling you. I was helping my dad and went to work with him that day.”

“I’m surprised you remembered that. Sam got him all better. He’s the best!”

“I agree,” he murmured. “I’m very sorry to hear of your husband’s unexpected passing.”

A shadow crossed over her lovely face for a moment. She studied his features. “Thank you. I’m sorry to learn of your eye injury. Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Thank goodness for that at least.” She had a sweetness about her. “Life throws all of us a curve once in a while, one we weren’t expecting.”

“You’re right about that.” Their losses were different. Though his career was over, he could still see with a corrective lens. Her loss had to be excruciating. According to Trace’s father, they’d been a happily married couple while they’d worked for him.

“Your dad was afraid you might have to stay in the hospital longer for more tests.”

“I received excellent care and was discharged the moment the doctor felt I could travel.”

“That’s wonderful and he’s so excited! He said you’d be here today, but I expected the two of you to arrive this evening with you still wearing a uniform.”

“The military doesn’t usually travel in uniform these days. It’s safer.” She nodded. “My father said he’d meet up with me here later.”

“Then welcome home, soldier. Go on in. Your old bedroom is waiting for you. There’s food and drinks in the fridge in case you’re hungry or thirsty. Sam said you’re a big tuna fish sandwich man, so there’s plenty on hand. In case you need anything else, I’ll be in as soon as I’ve filled this basket.”

Berry-picking looked fun and Trace considered helping her, then thought the better of it. His gaze fell to her left hand. She still wore her wedding ring.

“Thank you, Cassie. See you shortly.”

He retraced his steps to get his bags out of the Explorer. When he walked inside, the delicious aroma of strawberries filled the house. He moved through the foyer and dining room to the kitchen. She’d been making jam. Trace didn’t realize her housekeeping duties extended to actually putting up fruit in a house where no one lived.

There were several dozen jars on the counter already filled and labeled. The sweet smell reminded him of times he’d played with the Bannock brothers as a boy before his parents’ divorce. The last summer he’d lived here while he was still happy, he remembered going over to their grandmother’s house where she was putting up jam and jelly. She’d let them pile butter and fresh jam on homemade bread and feast their heads off.

The wonderful memory pierced him. Soon after that time he’d learned his parents were divorcing and he’d have to move away from friends like Connor and Jarod Bannock, who lived next door. That turned out to be the darkest day of his young life. He’d been searching for happiness ever since. Being a pilot had given him thrills and purpose, but life had a habit of getting in the way.

He left the kitchen and walked across the hall to his bedroom to get rid of his bags. The same framed photographs of family that had always hung there lined the walls. It hurt to look at them. On the way he passed the other two bedrooms. One was his father’s. The other was a spare bedroom, but when he looked inside, he received a shock rather than a surprise.

Cassie lived here?

Trace had assumed she’d moved back to the Bannock ranch with her family after her husband’s death. Their wealth meant she wouldn’t have financial worries. Maybe his kindhearted father had allowed her to stay on for a time while she worked through her grief. That was something he would do. If that were the case, then Trace’s plan to sell the ranch would come as a blow to her while she was attempting to get through the worst of her pain. Hell...

That was another subject to talk over with his father when he arrived. But right now Trace was starving. The thought of a tuna fish sandwich on American soft white bread sounded so good, he headed straight back to the kitchen.

* * *

CASSIE HAD WATCHED his tall, well-honed physique, dressed in khakis and a crewneck shirt, disappear around the corner of the house. Trace Rafferty had been born an exceptionally handsome man. Judging from the photographs Sam had shown her after his son had gone into the military, time had only added to his male attributes. He’d inherited his mother’s black hair and smile. But his rugged features and those searing hot blue eyes fringed by black lashes had come straight from his father.

Sam was so proud of his son, who’d served in many places around the globe. In or out of uniform, Trace Rafferty, still unmarried, possessed killer looks that would always cause him to stand out.

Cassie had been putting up jam for the past week, a little at a time. It always made the house smell good, so she’d decided to put up some more today to make his homecoming a little more welcoming. After that she’d started dinner with a pot roast in the oven and homemade rolls that were still rising.

According to Doc Rafferty, Trace hadn’t been out to the ranch since his father had gotten married last year. On his last leave, he’d stayed in town with him and his new wife at their condo in White Lodge.

Perhaps it had been too painful to return to the home that was now empty of all family. But Sam had left it to his son and hoped he would make his life here now that he was out of the air force. She knew Sam’s heart. He’d missed his son horribly over the years. To have him back home to stay would thrill him.

After finding as many ripe strawberries as she could, she made her way to the back door through the laundry room to the kitchen. Trace could have them fresh for breakfast if he wanted.

The minute she stepped in the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was the smell of tuna fish mingled with the jam aroma. Looking around she discovered Trace over in the corner at the breakfast table eating sandwiches. He’d already drunk half a quart of milk without the aid of a glass.

He flashed her a smile that gave her an odd, fluttery sensation. “You’ve caught me.”

Troubled that his smile had any effect on her at all, she put the basket of berries on the counter. “It’s your house. You’re entitled to do whatever you want.”

“I didn’t know you were still living here.”

Uh oh. “After Logan died, I didn’t plan to stay on, but your father insisted because he wanted the house kept up while no one was living here. Now that you’re home, I plan to leave tonight after I’ve served you two dinner.”

Though she hadn’t told Sam yet, she’d already made arrangements with her cousin Avery to stay with her and her husband, Zane, until she found another place to live and work.

He shook his dark head. “Since I just arrived and don’t know my own plans yet, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to move out.”

“But—”

“No buts. You were hired to take care of the house. From what I’ve already seen, you’ve done a fantastic job.”

“Thank you.” She checked on the roast, then started to leave the kitchen, almost faint with relief that she didn’t have to give up this job quite yet.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m taking the horses for their daily exercise.”

Trace emptied the milk bottle. His eyes played over her. “How do you manage that?”

She couldn’t help but smile at the remark. “I ride Buttercup and string Masala along. He goes where she goes.”

“So he has a crush on her?”

A chuckle escaped her. “No. But he has no choice if he wants to leave the paddock. He’s a wild mustang my cousin Connor tamed and gave to us. Besides Connor and your father, my husband was the only other man to ride him.”

He continued to study her. “All you Bannocks are expert horse people. I’m surprised you haven’t won that horse over yet.”

She averted her eyes. “Masala preferred Logan.”

Since when did that matter when according to Trace’s father she was an expert horsewoman? He got up from the table. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come with you and take a look around the property. Maybe Masala will let me ride him. If not, I’ll hold the rope and lead him around as we walk. After my flight, I need to stretch my legs.”

Cassie preferred to be alone, but she didn’t see how she could turn down Trace’s offer. “Won’t your father be here before long?”

“I don’t know. Clive Masters said he’d gone out on an emergency. I’ll text him to let him know we’ll be back soon. If he’s hungry, I made enough tuna fish for him to have some, too.”

“He’ll like that,” she said. It seemed Trace had made up his mind. He had the confidence and authority of a man who was comfortable in any setting. “I’ll meet you at the barn in a few minutes.”

After she left the kitchen, Trace cleaned up the mess he’d made and went back to his bedroom to put on jeans and a T-shirt. His room was exactly as he’d left it. The framed pictures of him, a couple with his dog, some with his parents and some with Jarod and Connor out horseback riding, still hung on the wall.

He found his old pair of cowboy boots and put them on. With the exception of the last time he’d been home, he and his father had always gone riding after chores were done.

His ancient black cowboy hat sat on the closet shelf. He dusted it off and shoved it on his head. Once he’d sent his father a text, he headed for the barn. Cassie was already out in the paddock astride her horse.

Buttercup was well named. Between Cassie’s hair and the palomino’s golden color that included a white mane and tail, they made quite a sight in the sun. He rubbed her horse’s forelock. “You’re a real beauty, aren’t you Buttercup,” he said, struggling not to look at Cassie. Her coloring was the complete opposite from the Italians he’d spent time with over the past eighteen months.

Nicoletta Tornielli, the olive-skinned woman he’d been planning to marry, had long black hair and large black-brown eyes. After being around her family, Cassie’s fairness with that peaches-and-cream complexion was in complete contrast.

While he was deep in thought over the change in his circumstances, her horse pushed against his chest, causing both of them to laugh. She smiled down at him. “Buttercup likes you. When one of the older ranchers in the area told Connor he needed to sell a couple of his horses, Connor took me with him and I ended up buying Buttercup. She’s been a wonderful horse so far. Friendly.”

“Your cousin has a great eye for horseflesh. One horse down, one to go.” Still feeling her smile, he walked into the barn. The smell of the barn brought back memories of getting up early in the morning. He’d repair the fencing bordering the Bannock property with his father, or make certain the planted forage wasn’t flooded by the numerous springs. Then he’d ride to the pasture. His job was to look for heifers in trouble while his dad checked on the rest of the herd.

In one of the stalls he found a blue roan with transverse stripes across the withers, marking him a wild mustang. “Hey, big fella.” Trace started talking to the horse, touching him, using all the tricks his horse-loving father had taught him years ago. The gentleness paid off. Soon the horse was nickering. Trace went into the tack room for a bridle and brought it out.

At first Masala shied away from it, but Trace continued to talk to him in soothing tones until the horse allowed the bridle to be put on. “It’s now or never,” he muttered before mounting him. Trace had always preferred riding bareback on his favorite mount, Prince. That seemed a century ago. If this horse didn’t like the weight, it was too late now.

Masala tossed his head several times and backed up, but when he realized he wasn’t in charge, Trace made a clicking sound and rode him out of the barn.

Cassie’s eyes flashed like green gemstones. “I don’t believe it! I didn’t think he’d let anyone else ride him.”

“My father taught me a few techniques.” They left the paddock and headed for the deep forest that made the Rafferty property so desirable to Trace.

“You learned them well. He must sense the take-charge pilot in you.”

“You think?” he teased.

“I know.”

They rode side by side, following a faint trail that wound through the trees. With the temperature at eighty-one degrees, he welcomed the cool of the forest. When the fall hunting season was on, the abundance of wildlife made the property a big game hunter’s paradise—elk, moose, mule deer, bison, white-tailed deer, bear and bighorn sheep roamed this part of the state. This ranch had it all. Someone would pay a lot of money for the property. Trace was determined that money would go right into his father’s bank account.

He glanced over at Cassie. “Tell me something. Who did the work and staining on the exterior of the cabin? When I first drove in, I thought I’d come to the wrong house. It’s so changed I hardly recognized it.”

“That was Logan’s doing.”

“The artwork on the shutters, too?”

“No. That was my contribution.”

Trace marveled at her skill. He took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. “And the garden?”

“We both worked on it at the end of last summer to get it ready for spring.”

A spring Logan never saw...

It meant Cassie had done all the planting. “You’ve made the place beautiful.”

“Thank you. Your father asked me to pick out some porch furniture so it would look more attractive. When I was young I read all the books in the Little House series. I loved them and envied Laura Ingalls Wilder her life.”

He wondered where she was going with this. “I remember watching a few TV shows based on those books.”

Cassie flicked him a glance. “Do you know, when I first saw this place, I found myself thinking of it as Little House in the Big Woods. You know, it’s isolated here. The forest is so pristine and untouched. Anyway, it gave me the same feeling as those books. I was really delighted when your father hired us to live and work here. It’s an adorable house in the perfect setting.”

Trace was charmed by her. “Well, with what you’ve done to it, it is now. Tell me—do you plan on writing a series of books about this house, too?”

“Don’t be silly.”

He eyed her very fetching profile. “You have a real talent for color and design. There are chalets in the Alps with shutters that can’t touch the beauty of your artwork. Dad should have hired you years ago. How many other homes have you worked on?”

“None.” She sounded surprised. “I’m not an artist, Trace. But a few years ago some of my college friends and I went on spring break to Europe. When we toured through Switzerland, I stayed in a village where all the chalets had decorated shutters and window boxes. I was so delighted by them, I took pictures and thought I’d like to try my hand if I ever got the chance. Your father, bless his heart, was willing to let me experiment.”

“He got more than his money’s worth. I’m very impressed.” He was impressed with a lot of things about her. She was well traveled, could grow a garden and make jam, paint and was an expert horsewoman, as well. Trace had no doubts she could ride Masala if she wanted. He got the feeling she was holding something back where the horse was concerned, but he wasn’t about to push his theory about why at this early stage.

“Tell me about your deployment in Italy. What was it like to be a jet pilot?”

His career seemed to be a safe topic for her, so he obliged her. “In a word, exhilarating.”

“But what was your job exactly?”

“The mission of the Thirty-First Fighter Wing is to deliver combat power and support across the globe to achieve U.S. and NATO objectives.”

“I guess you had to memorize that for everyone who asks.” He smiled at her perception.

“So what did you do when you weren’t fighting?”

“We had to maintain aircraft and personnel in a high state of readiness. That involved a lot of training exercises.”

“Did you get your eye injury in combat? I hope you don’t mind my asking. When your father received the news, he was too broken up to talk about it.”

So was Trace’s girlfriend, Nicci. She’d begged him to go to work for her father so nothing between them would change. But everything had changed. There was no going back.

For their marriage to take place, she would have to move to Colorado. But she’d been living in denial since his injury and their relationship had hit a plateau.

Not so for the woman riding on the horse next to him. Unlike Nicoletta, Cassie had been forced to face losing her husband and get on with living and working. You couldn’t avoid dealing with death. Her life couldn’t get more real than that. Since she’d asked the question, why not tell her the truth?

“I was flying a combat mission when a laser beam intersected my eye. If you want the medical version, the light was transmitted through the clear ocular media and imaged onto a small spot on the sensory retina. In a mere moment tissue necrosis occurred. The result being that my vision was impaired.”

“A laser? Where did it come from?”

“Lasers are used for different functions in military applications. They serve in targeting guidance systems. Some are fire-control devices, others for access denial systems and communications security. Although the use of lasers as a weapon is a violation of the Geneva convention, the potential for its wrongful use continues to attract international concern. The laser that injured my eye was no accident.”

She shivered. “That’s horrible. Evil.”

“You’re right. In military applications, just a few microjoules of laser through the pupils in a 10 to 30 nanosecond pulse can produce a visible lesion. At 150 to 300 microjoules, a small retinal hemorrhage can occur. This type of damage can have a devastating effect on a pilot’s vision. It did on mine.” His voice grated. “I wasn’t blinded, but I have to wear a corrective lens so it prevents me from doing that particular job anymore.”

“Though you’re no longer top gun, you can still fly, right?”

“Yes. I could be a flight navigator, but once you’ve done what I do, no other position holds the same excitement for me. That probably sounds selfish to you.”

“Not at all,” she replied. “There are few careers in this world that demand your specialized kind of expertise. Connor and I had a talk about that very thing last week. Since his injury, his fans have been begging him to get back to steer wrestling and go for a sixth world championship title.”

“What did he say?” Trace was curious.

“He admitted that those years of being on top were great, and there was no other thrill like it. But the injury affected him enough that he knew he’d never be that good again. Sure he could train and go for it over and over for a few more years, but he’d never be able to perform at his former level. To be a has-been simply wasn’t for him.

“Then he gave me that special smile of his and told me he was glad he’d been injured because he ended up marrying Liz Henson. To quote him, ‘The thrill of being married to her has topped anything I’ve ever experienced.’”

Trace liked hearing that. “He’s really happy, then.”

“Ecstatic. They both are. From the time we were in high school Liz had a crush on him that never went away.”

He nodded. “Dad let on to me about her heartache before she and Connor traveled to Las Vegas together for the National Finals Rodeo. That trip turned their lives around and lost him a great vet in the process.”

“It about killed her when he married Reva Stevens. I wasn’t surprised when it ended in divorce so fast. Reva loved Connor, but she hated ranch life. Not everyone takes to it. She didn’t last long. At the time I was afraid his heart was permanently broken.”

“My mother couldn’t handle being this isolated either,” Trace admitted. “Nine years into the marriage and she asked my dad for a divorce.” Would the same thing happen if he and Nicoletta got married, even if they lived in Colorado? He’d been struggling with that question all night.

“For someone who wasn’t born to it, your mom lasted longer than most, Trace. That’s because she loved your father. At least that’s what I heard from people who knew your parents. But I know that’s no consolation to you. Anything but. Forgive me for saying something so insensitive.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I was the one to bring it up. My mother was frank with me. I knew she loved Dad, but that wasn’t enough. I’m glad you told me about Connor. It’s great to hear he’s found his happiness now.”

“I agree, but I’m so sorry about your injury, Trace. It isn’t fair,” she said in a heartfelt voice. “I’m surprised nothing’s been done to prevent such a thing from happening.”

“People have tried. There was an international conventional weapons conference in 1995. They announced the latest protocol on blinding laser weapons. The United States signed on to the guidelines. Four of the articles outlined the parameters for the use of lasers in military maneuvers and war.

“They came up with the rule that the employment of lasers solely to cause permanent blindness—or a resulting visual acuity of 20/200—is strictly prohibited. But of course, the enemy doesn’t care.”

“That is so horrible.”

“No more horrible than your husband being shot.” Trace wanted to move the subject away from him. “Did the rangers find the person responsible?”

She was quiet for a moment before she admitted, “Not yet. As you know, Avery’s husband, Zane, is a special agent for the Bureau of Land Management. While searching for Logan, he found a dead marten near Logan that had been shot on the property that day.

“The slug from a smooth bore shotgun that killed my husband matched the slug in the marten. Zane’s still hoping forensics will lead to the owner of the shotgun so he can be brought in for questioning. So far there’s no actual proof that it wasn’t accidental.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. There’s no hunting until April, so whoever was out there in February was trespassing. It could have been an accident, but Zane doesn’t think so. A hunter shooting marten would probably have taken it for the fur.”

“Did your husband have an enemy?”

They’d come to the first stream running through the property. Both horses stopped to drink. “He was so likeable, I can’t imagine it. But I have one.” She sounded haunted.

“Who is it?”

“My brother Ned.”


Chapter Two (#ulink_e8aa0755-e4ed-5542-b3d2-91e137a65a17)

Trace scowled. Through his father he knew all about Ned Bannock’s instability. “Isn’t he in a special mental facility in Billings?”

“He was, but has been getting treatment. In February the doctor allowed him to live at home for a month on a trial basis. According to my older married cousins, he was subdued and seemed to get along well enough. The doctor was pleased with his progress and said if he continued to improve, he’d be able to come home permanently.”

“So he was at home during the time your husband was killed?”

“Yes. When he was first put in the facility, the court ordered our family to go into counseling and get therapy. It was painful, but necessary. I welcomed it because I knew that Ned had always resented me. There were times when I felt that he wished I weren’t alive. I was able to express those feelings in front of my parents.”

Since Trace didn’t have a sibling, he couldn’t relate, but her admission horrified him. “How did they react?”

“They were oblivious to my pain. Dad said I brought on trouble, that when things went wrong with Ned it was my fault. Mom kept quiet to appease my dad, who claimed that I wasn’t sensitive enough to Ned’s needs growing up because I was the popular one. I should have included him more in my activities. Their worry over him meant more punishment for me if I didn’t coddle my brother. To this day they still believe that. There’s no getting through to them.”

“I don’t see how you’ve been able to cope. Under those conditions I probably would have run away.”

“Once I was out of the house working on my own, I didn’t have to be around him nearly as much. What stunned me was to learn in one of the sessions that Ned had hate issues with me because I’d gotten involved with Logan on one of my brief trips home.”

“You’re serious.” Trace was appalled.

“I swear my brother was born a bigot. He felt that a hired hand wasn’t good enough to be part of our family. Long before I told my parents I was in love with Logan, Ned had been filling my father with lies about him. Ned was the one who told my parents I was involved with him and it should be stopped.”

“Sounds like he was driven by the same kind of hatred that landed Jarod in the hospital.”

“Exactly. Dad, who was in a bad way at the time because of what Ned had tried to do to Jarod, wasn’t thinking rationally. Like my older brothers, he’d always been afraid of Ned’s temper and as usual took his side to placate him. He fired Logan and ordered me not to marry him in order to keep the peace.”

“He ordered you?” Trace was incredulous.

“Dad used the very word. Shocking, isn’t it? But I couldn’t obey him. At that point he told me that if we went ahead with our marriage, then I no longer had a home with the family. Out of fear, Mother backed Dad by not saying anything at all. My other brothers took their cue from mom and stayed out of things.”

Incredible. “I had no idea of the stress you’ve been through.” And here Trace had been wondering why she hadn’t gone home to her family after her husband was killed. She’d never want to go there again unless a miracle happened.

“No one knew. It isn’t something you want other people to know, but I’m aware of your close friendship with my cousins and realize you probably know everything.”

No, not everything. Not this.

She let out a deep sigh. “I loved Logan, so that was that. We got married in a civil ceremony and took a job with your father to run the ranch for him. I broke down and told him my whole situation. He’s such a wonderful man. Mostly I checked hunting permits and collected fees while Logan monitored the hunters’ activities throughout the season. Thanks to your dad, this job saved our lives.”

So many people loved and respected Trace’s father. He was an exceptional man. “I take it nothing has changed with your family?”

She hunched her shoulders. “Absolutely nothing. Though extended family and a lot of neighbors came to Logan’s funeral in White Lodge, my parents didn’t come near or even try to talk to me.”

“I can’t conceive of it. There’s something very wrong with him, Cassie.”

“I know. The doctor has urged me to stay in therapy. I’m glad I have because I’ve since learned that along with their other emotional problems, my parents are battered people and need a lot of intensive counseling.”

“I could have used therapy when I was young,” Trace admitted in a moment of self-reflection.

“Everyone could. In the case of our family I’ve learned that Ned irritated our older brothers to the point they didn’t want to be around him. Ned had already felt abandoned when Sadie, the girl he’d always loved, married my cousin Jarod. In his jealousy he almost killed Jarod in order to get rid of him.”

Trace nodded. “It was very tragic.”

Cassie grimaced. “When I married Logan and moved away from the ranch, Ned began nursing an unhealthy hatred toward me.”

“You think he could have killed your husband to hurt you?”

“It’s possible,” she said, “but I don’t know how he could have left the ranch without someone knowing about it. Zane did an investigation. None of my father’s firearms were missing or had been fired close to that time. In any event, Dad had people keeping an eye on my brother.”

“But if he went off his meds, he might have found a way to make it over to this ranch. Is that what you’re thinking?” Trace asked.

“He could have. One of the guys he hung around with in high school is still his friend and visits him. Through him it’s possible he got hold of a gun or rifle he hid somewhere before he’d been committed. I try not to think about it or I get ill.”

“That’s why the military disqualifies a person with a history of mood or behavioral disorders.”

“Exactly. But home isn’t the military, and my parents want him back to help around the ranch.”

“That’s hard on everyone.”

“I’ve talked this over with Zane. If Ned was the one responsible, Zane will find out in time. After the shooting, he advised your father to close the ranch to hunting and keep it closed until more proof of what really happened came to light. As you know, he was a tough Navy SEAL before he started working as a special agent for the BLM.”

“I know him by reputation. Let’s hope he has an answer for you soon.”

“Yes. Avery said Ned is going to be coming back to live with my parents again on a permanent basis.” The anxiety in her eyes spoke volumes.

Trace cringed for her. “With restrictions, of course.”

“I don’t know what they’d be as long as he keeps taking his medicine.”

“Cassie, I’m sorry you’ve had to live through such pain.” To lose her husband and be afraid that her brother might have been the one to shoot him was horrendous. Worse, he could tell she was worried that Ned might come after her one day when he got the chance. That frightening possibility was going to keep Trace awake nights from here on out.

He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of Cassie’s loss, but she was obviously handling it. She was a strong woman to have married for love despite her father’s wishes. Trace admired that strength and her will to get on with her life.

Just then his cell rang. He checked the caller ID. “It’s my dad. He’s on his way to the ranch now.”

“Then let’s get back. I have a pot roast with potatoes and carrots cooking.”

“I could smell it before we left the house. Did he tell you that’s my favorite meal?”

She smiled. “That’s why I made it. To welcome you home. He’s so happy you’re going to be living here from now on, you can’t imagine.”

Trace was afraid he could and didn’t look forward to the conversation he was about to have. When they reached the barn and dismounted to take care of the horses, he turned to her. She was removing Buttercup’s bridle. “I want to thank you for what you and Logan have done.”

“We were just doing our job.”

“It was a lot more than that and you know it. You’ve eased my father’s mind while I’ve been away and made the place beautiful. There’s no way to repay you. I’ll feed and water the horses while you go into the house. It’s the least I can do.”

Once dinner was over, Trace went out on the front porch with his father. He sat on a chair while his dad settled for the swing. “That Cassie could make her living as a cook.”

“Agreed. I can’t remember the last time I had a meal that good.”

His dad studied Trace. “You’re talking home cooked. Nothing like it.” Trace nodded. “Do you have any idea how good it feels to be sitting on the porch with my son after all these years?”

Trace’s throat thickened. “I do,” he murmured. More than you can imagine.

His dad’s hair was a sandy color mixed with gray. Lines from years of outdoor living gave his rugged features character. He’d dressed in one of his familiar plaid shirts and jeans, and he wore a belt with a silver and turquoise buckle, his trademark.

One of the tribal elders from the reservation had presented it to him for saving their horses from dying during an equine flu epidemic. The tribe had bought some horses in Mexico and had them transported. But several of them had the virus. Afraid all the horses would die, they came to Trace’s father.

Trace, who had been only eight years old at the time, remembered going out to the reservation with him to test the horses. Sam told the elders all they could do was rest them for a month in fresh air in a shady, confined area. Walk them for short periods to maintain circulation during the fever and coughing. Keep them away from dust and hay to minimize the risk of bacterial infections of the lungs. Then give them an antibody vaccine booster every three months.

The horses looked and sounded miserable to Trace. He couldn’t imagine his father’s treatment working. But in a month’s time the tribe hadn’t lost one of them and he’d become a valued friend of the Crow.

Tears smarted Trace’s eyes just remembering the day they presented his dad with the belt buckle, handmade on their reservation. His father was held in high esteem by a lot of the population around White Lodge, including members of the Crow nation.

Soon after that experience, his parents divorced. Remembered pain still lingered to think his mom would want to leave the man who was Trace’s idol. So what did Trace do? After he’d turned eighteen, he’d left his father, just like his mom had done.

“You probably won’t believe me, but I’ve missed being here. I’ve missed you, Dad.” His voice was thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Sam leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “When your mom left, the heart went out of our home. You couldn’t take it.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. At first I was angry at her. Later I was angry at you for not making her come back.”

“You can’t hold somebody who doesn’t want to be held, son.”

“I know that now. Forgive my anger.”

“It was natural. Divorce means an automatic whammy for everyone involved. No one escapes. I’m proud of you for what you’ve done with your life even when it threw you some curveballs. Is it killing you not to be a pilot anymore?”

“If you’d asked me that when I was rushed to the hospital, I would have told you I’d rather have been killed. But after a few days I realized it would be the coward’s way out and I thought about something you said the day our collie’s paw got caught in a snare and had to be amputated.”

“Poor Kip. He was the best dog we ever had.”

“I loved him. While I was having hysterics, you told me he’d be able to get around just fine with three legs. That’s why God gave him four, just in case.”

A quiet laugh came out of his father. “Did I really say that?”

“That’s why everyone in Carbon County puts their favorite vet on a pedestal. Before I phoned you from the hospital to let you know what had happened to me, I figured you’d say something like, ‘Son? God gave you two eyes so if you lost one of them, it didn’t matter.’ Even if you didn’t know what went through my mind before our phone call, your wisdom helped me through that dark period. So, the answer to your question is no, it didn’t kill me.”

“Thank God for that.”

“But during my recuperation I had to think about how else I could earn my living. On the way home, I spent a couple days at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. They’ve offered me a teaching position on their staff, but I’ve been given five to six weeks to get my affairs in order before I report.”

At that piece of unexpected news his dad—hurt to the marrow as Trace had anticipated—got up from the swing and walked over to the porch railing. He looked up at the stars. “What about the woman you said you wanted to marry in Italy? How does she feel about that decision?”

Trace couldn’t stay seated either. He wandered over to his father. “You’re the smartest man I ever knew, so you already know the answer to that question.”

“Which means if she’s willing, you’ll live in Colorado Springs.”

The hollowness of his father’s voice stung Trace. His eyes closed tightly for a minute. It was a big if.

“That’s the plan, but these are early days. Nicci needs to fly to the States. I want her to meet you and Ellen, then we’ll fly to Colorado Springs and let her get a feel for where we’d live.”

Trace waited for the next question. It was a long time coming. “What about the ranch?”

This was the part he’d been dreading. “I’d like to use the time while I’m here to find a buyer. With the sale of the house and property, you’ll have plenty of money to spend on you and Ellen.

“All these years you’ve sacrificed for me, for mom. Now it’s time you thought about yourself. You can go on some cruises, buy a house. I was hoping you might invest in a motor home. Then you and Ellen could come and visit us in Colorado whenever you wanted.”

His father slowly turned to him. In the semidarkness he looked older than he had earlier in the evening. “This ranch is your legacy, son.”

Here Trace went again, stabbing his father in the heart once more. “Not when I won’t be able to live here. Since you have health issues and can’t work the ranch anymore, the only sensible thing to do is sell it. Maybe one of Ellen’s married children would like to buy it.”

His dad’s body had gone still as a statue. “You know what? It’s getting late. I don’t want Ellen to worry, so I’m going to leave. I’ve already said good-night to Cassie. But you tell her again how much I appreciated dinner.”

He started for the porch steps. Trace walked with him to his truck. After he got in the cab, he lowered the window. “Didn’t she do a great job on those shutters?”

The question only added to Trace’s pain because he knew the renovations had been done expressly for Trace’s homecoming. “They’re exquisitely done.”

His father nodded. “Come on over to the condo anytime. Don’t be a stranger.”

This wasn’t the way their reunion was supposed to go. “What are you talking about? I’ll see you tomorrow at the clinic. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you. Always.”

In agony, Trace watched his father drive away. If it weren’t late, he’d head over to the Bannock ranch to look up Connor or Jarod. They’d understand his impossible position. Letting out a groan, he went back in the house for his wallet and keys. A restlessness had come over him. He’d never be able to sleep.

Cassie had already disappeared to her room for the night. Not wanting to disturb her, he left a note on the kitchen table that he was going into town and probably wouldn’t be back till late. He supposed he didn’t need to say anything, but it seemed the courteous thing to do. She’d gone the extra mile to make Trace comfortable today. No one had fussed over him like this in years and he appreciated it.

The Golden Spur Bar in White Lodge didn’t close till one in the morning. He needed the canned country music, a lot of noise plus a beer to drown the condemning voice in his head. Too bad the laser’s damage hadn’t burned the guilt out of him at the same time.

He found a parking spot around the corner. Summer brought the tourists in droves and the place was crowded. Trace made his way through to the bar. After a five-minute wait he grabbed a vacated stool and signaled the bartender.

“Trace Rafferty?” The man on his left had spoken to him. When he turned, the guy said, “It is you. You’re the F-16 pilot. What do you know about that.”

“Sorry. Have we met before?”

“Yeah, but it was a long time ago and I’m the forgettable type according to my ex-wife. The name’s Owen Pearson.”

It rang a bell, but Trace couldn’t place him. Between the empty whiskey glass and his self-pity, Trace could see Owen was getting wasted fast. The bartender asked Trace what he wanted. “A beer please.”

Owen raised his empty glass. “Another one of these while you’re at it.” Then his gaze swerved back to Trace. “You in town on leave?”

“Something like that.” It was no one else’s business.

“Haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

“Pardon?”

“You remember Ned Bannock. He and I have been buddies for years.”

At the mention of the name, the hackles went up on the back of Trace’s neck. It all came back to him. Owen Pearson was the one who lent Ned the truck that had bashed Jarod’s truck years ago almost killing him. “Your dad’s ranch is right next door to the Bannock’s.”

The conversation with Cassie was still fresh in Trace’s mind. His teeth snapped together. “That’s right.” Ned and Cassie’s parents lived on the Bannock property owned by Ralph and Tyson Bannock, the two brothers who raised their families side by side.

“Then you’d know all about the shooting.”

“My father filled me in. Did you go to the funeral?”

“Hell, no. Logan Dorney was a no-account. Ned’s dad fired him when he found out he’d been doing Ned’s sister on the sly. I’m surprised your dad hired them.”

Sickness started to rise in Trace’s throat. “That’s my father’s business surely.”

“The Doc didn’t know Logan the way Ned did.”

Trace let the remark pass. “Any idea who shot him?”

“Some hunter.”

Yup. “How is Ned these days? I haven’t seen him in years.”

“He had some family problems for a while. His sister was nothing but trouble for him. But he’s doing much better now and will be home before long. We’re going to go into business together soon.”

“Is that right? What kind?”

“A stud farm for feral horses.”

That was the business Connor had been building with Liz. “Where?”

“My dad’s ranch.”

The conversation robbed Trace of any interest in his beer. It was still sitting there untouched. He put some money on the counter and got to his feet.

“Hey—you haven’t drunk your beer.”

“I discovered I’m not thirsty. It’s all yours. So long.”

In a different frame of mind than before, Trace drove back to the ranch. After he reached the house, he tore up the note in the kitchen and wrote another one. She’d see it first thing in the morning.

Cassie—

I’ve gone to Billings and will be in and out of the house at odd hours for the rest of the week. Dad and I agree your food is out of this world, but please don’t do any more cooking for me since I don’t have a schedule you can count on.

T.

* * *

WHEN FRIDAY THE twenty-second came around, Cassie kept her afternoon appointment with her OB. Dr. Raynard did an ultrasound and handed her the picture of the sonogram. “Your little girl has a healthy heart and measures the right size. So far everything looks fine.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t believe that’s my baby. Oh, I wish Logan were here.”

“Of course you do.”

“You’re sure she’s all right?”

“Yes, but to make certain she stays that way, I’m going to insist you stop your horseback riding altogether.”

“Since my last appointment I’ve stopped riding Masala, but Buttercup is gentle. I love riding so much.”

“At twenty weeks, you’re too far along to take any chances. That isn’t a great deal to give up. Go on walks instead.”

“Okay. I haven’t felt the baby move yet. How come?”

“It’s been moving for a long time, but too small for you to notice. I imagine you’ll feel it within the next couple of weeks.”

“I hope so.”

“And I hope you mind me. I know you’re an expert rider, but a horse can do the unexpected. Do you hear what I’m saying? This is for your own good. If your husband were alive, he wouldn’t want you to ride now.”

“Probably not.”

He smiled. “I’ll see you in a month. That’ll make it Friday, July 22. Remember to go easy on salt and caffeine, and put your legs up for a few minutes every day.”

“I will. Thanks so much.”

Cassie left the White Lodge Clinic where Dr. Raynard practiced and did a little shopping. She couldn’t hide her pregnancy any longer. She needed to buy another couple of pairs of maternity pants and a few more tops she could layer. Now that she knew she was having a daughter, she would pick up a few things for the baby at the same time.

When Logan was killed, Cassie hadn’t known she was pregnant. Later she became ill and went to see the doctor because she’d thought she’d come down with the flu. The news that she was pregnant had sent her into shock again, but a wonderful kind. A part of Logan was growing inside her.

To know she had their baby to live for pulled her out of the dark depression she’d been in. The doctor gave her medicine to help with the morning sickness. Since that stage had passed, she’d never felt better.

Later tonight she would drive over to Zane’s ranch and show Avery the new things she’d bought for the baby while they talked. Avery was the closest thing she had to a sister. Her cousin was the only one who knew she was pregnant, but Cassie wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret from now on.

When she returned to the ranch, there was still no sign of Trace. No doubt he was spending a lot of time with his father in town. She hurried inside to change into her new clothes that gave her more room to breathe. After grabbing a sandwich, she went out to the barn to take the horses for a late afternoon walk, mindful of her doctor’s advice.

“Come on, Buttercup. You first.”

If her horse thought it strange Cassie didn’t mount her, Cassie would never know. She walked her as far as the stream, then left her to graze in the paddock. It was Masala’s turn next. He was used to trailing behind her. When they returned to the paddock, Masala joined Buttercup. To Cassie’s amusement, her horse moved her head against his neck.

“I think you two like each other!” she exclaimed. “Liz said it could happen, but I can’t believe it!”

“So I wasn’t wrong,” spoke a deep male voice right behind her. She spun around in surprise and discovered Trace’s blue eyes eyeing her as if he could see right through her. A rush of warmth enveloped her.

“I didn’t know you were home,” she said, out of breath for no good reason. She’d begun to think he was never coming back. It surprised her how much pleasure she felt at seeing him.

“I got here a little while ago.”

“You’ve been making yourself scarce.”

“I’m back for the weekend. When I looked out the kitchen window and saw that you weren’t riding Buttercup, I wondered if my first suspicions about you were correct. Now I know.”

Her heart fluttered like the wings of a darning needle she could see flitting around. “First suspicions about what?”

“That you’re pregnant. When you told me Masala wasn’t your horse, I wondered if pregnancy was the reason you wouldn’t ride him. You’ve hidden your pregnancy so well, no one would suspect.”

“You did, though,” she remarked.

“Well, that’s because we went riding on Tuesday and I was close enough to you to notice. Does my dad know?”

She averted her eyes. “No one does except my doctor and Avery. But your dad is a doctor who has delivered a lot of foals. He has probably guessed. I’m quite sure it’s the reason he’s let me stay on here without saying anything. He’s such an understanding man. You can’t hide much from him.”

His eyes smiled. “Nope.” He cocked his head. “I don’t mean to pry, but why have you kept it a secret?”

“Because I’m trying to make my way on my own. My parents never forgave me for marrying Logan. Once they find out I’m having his baby—and they will—they’ll write my child off completely, too.”

“But you’re carrying their grandchild!”

“They don’t want one from a lowlife like Logan. That’s what Ned called my husband because Logan was an orphan. In my family, if you don’t have a pedigree dating back to the turn of the last century, you’re not acceptable.”

A grimace marred his handsome features. “Your brother’s a sick man.”

“I know. Ned had no idea how much I loved Logan. Neither did my parents. It’s their loss now.” She was all fired up at this point. “I intend to prove that I’m independent and will make a good mother even if it kills me—”

“I’m already convinced nothing could do that.”

She let out a laugh. “Sorry I got so heated.”

“It’s understandable. When are you due?”

“October 14.”

“You must be about five months along. Do you know the gender?”

Cassie nodded. “I found out today.”

His lips twitched. “Are you planning to keep me in suspense?”

“I’m going to have a girl. I bought some baby clothes for her in town after my doctor’s appointment. He gave me a picture of the sonogram.”

“I’ve never seen one. You’ll have to show it to me.”

“As it happens, I have it right here because I can’t stop looking at it.” She reached in her jeans pocket and pulled it out. He moved next to her so they could look at it together.

“That’s incredible,” he said in a husky voice.

“I know. While he took the picture, her heartbeat was so strong and loud, it made everything real for the first time.”

“Did you and Logan pick out names for the baby before he died?”

Cassie put the picture back in her pocket. “I didn’t learn I was pregnant until a few weeks after his death.”

“That’s tough. I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You really are doing this on your own.”

“It’s all right. Finding out I was pregnant gave me a whole new lease on life.”

“You’re a remarkable woman, Cassie.”

Her eyes met his searching gaze. “Say that to me when I’m old and have raised a terrific daughter, and I’ll believe you.” Surprised they’d spent this long talking she said, “I’ve got to go in and finish putting up the strawberries I picked this morning.” She would prepare a meatloaf and potatoes to go in the oven at the same time.

“While you do that, I’ll take the horses back to the barn and settle them in.”

They weren’t his responsibility, but there was no point in fighting him on it. “That would be great. Thank you.”

Much as she appreciated Trace’s help, she felt guilty. Now that he knew she was pregnant, it changed everything. Cassie could tell he had a protective streak in him like his father. She didn’t want him treating her any differently, but it was too late because he’d already figured it out just by looking at her blossoming figure.

Trying not to think about how excited he’d sounded when he’d looked at the baby picture, she prepared the dinner, then continued to make jam. Her raspberries would be coming into season soon. White Lodge had a fair in the fall. She could sell her wares and hopefully make enough money to buy a crib and the basic items she’d need for the baby.

Trace had asked her about a name. She didn’t know yet, but the fact that he’d asked told her he was a caring, sensitive man. Cassie was thinking too much about him. What on earth was wrong with her?

While she was pouring the hot paraffin wax over the filled jars to seal them, she heard him come in the back door. He didn’t pause to talk so she didn’t say anything. Forget he’s here, Cassie.


Chapter Three (#ulink_10ead687-99e7-50f4-b989-2b596e1a9705)

Trace walked down the hall. The meeting with the therapist in Billings earlier today had gone as he’d imagined. He didn’t need a doctor to realize he’d been in a morose state since his eye injury. It was all part of his PTSD. But Dr. Holbrook had emphasized that there was one thing he needed to do before all else. Deal with Nicci. No other decision should be made until he knew if he was going to live in Colorado or Italy.

The therapist made a lot of sense. It was time for a heart-to-heart.

Now that Trace was on the ranch and had spent two full days with his father, it was time to pay Nicci some attention. A month had passed since he’d last seen her. They’d spoken several times since, but nothing had been resolved. His call to her yesterday had gone downhill. They needed to talk when her father wasn’t around.

She picked up on the fifth ring. “Caro—” she answered in a sleepy voice.

“Nicci? Sorry for calling you in the middle of the night, but this can’t wait. Our conversation yesterday wasn’t good.”

“That’s because I’m miserable,” she said in heavily accented English. “Papa wants to know if you have come to your senses yet. Please say yes. Is that why you’re phoning while I was dreaming about the two of us in our own villa overlooking the water?”

Clearly nothing in her mind had changed since he’d left Italy. His eyes closed tightly. “I can’t say yes. All I know is that I miss you.”

“I think not enough, or you would take the job my father has offered you. I never knew anyone so obstinate.” That was her temper talking because she was in pain. So was he.

Trace paced the floor. “Listen to me, Nicci. I have to use my expertise. As I told you, the Air Force Academy has offered me a position as a flight instructor. Colorado Springs is a beautiful city. You’ll love it there. We’ll buy a house and start a family. You’ll be able to visit your family often. They’ll visit us. We’ll visit my father and his wife. They’ll come to us. We can have the life we wanted.”

The silence on the other end was tangible. “But it’s not the life we planned.”

“Only the location and the kind of work I do have changed. We haven’t.”

“I don’t know. What would I do all day while you’re at work?”

“We talked about that yesterday. You can find a job here you like. I have contacts.”

“But it won’t be like helping Papa.”

“Of course nothing would be like that, Nicci.” She was his social princess and did things for him only a daughter could do, but you could never call it a job. Even Nicci was honest enough to admit that. He turned on his other side. Naturally he couldn’t blame her for her fears, but the conversation was unraveling fast.

“You won’t know how you feel until you try. When can you fly over?”

“I’m not sure.”

He was used to her pouts, but since he’d been to the therapist he was more immune to them now. “This is hard on me, too, Nicci. Plan a time and I’ll meet your plane in Denver. We’ll drive to Colorado Springs so you can get a feel for it. We’ll look at houses and plan. Then we’ll fly to Montana so you can meet my father and his wife. What do you say?”

“I say I miss you so much, I feel like I’m going mad.”

He could just picture her stomping the floor in one of her spiky high heels. Trace wouldn’t be getting a definitive answer out of her yet. Maybe never. “I love you, too. Phone me when you’ve picked the date to fly over.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Eat dinner and go to bed. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted.” But that exhaustion was of the mental kind.

“That’s where I wish we were right now.”

He inhaled sharply. They’d always communicated well in bed. “Then hurry and make arrangements. I’ll pay for your ticket.”

“Papawill do it!”

“You know how I feel about that. I plan to take care of you.”

“We’re not married yet. He can afford it.”

Yes he could. Benito Tornielli, who owned a company that constructed some of the largest cruise ships on the Adriatic, was a multimillionaire who spoiled his children. Trace almost said she would need to get used to living on his salary, but he caught himself in time.

She was so headstrong in favor of spending her father’s money, this was one fight he couldn’t win over the phone so there was no point in trying.

“Good night, Nicci. Come to me soon.”

After they hung up, he lay back staring at the ceiling. Nicci still wasn’t ready to fly over, which made their conversation more troubling to him than ever. She was a fiery, exciting woman who’d been pampered all her life and felt perfectly safe in her sheltered environment.

The accident that had changed his life had shaken her to the core. To live with him in Colorado away from her family was so frightening to her, she couldn’t face it.

He understood. This would ask a lot of any woman from another country. But Nicci wasn’t just any woman. The more he thought about it, the more he feared that marriage to her wouldn’t work unless it was on her terms, which meant living in Italy.

For her sake he’d been wrestling with the idea of being a flight navigator since his injury. But enough time had passed during his recuperation that he knew in his heart it wasn’t what he wanted. He’d expressed that sentiment to Cassie on Tuesday, and to the therapist today. He couldn’t do that job, not even for love. Trace had to be true to himself. His father had taught him that much.

To work for Nicci’s father—to be under his thumb for the rest of their lives—was out of the question. So until she came to the United States to see if they could make a new life here work, then a marriage between them wasn’t possible. She needed to be true to herself, too. Knowing his own mind helped him to deal with matters closer to home.

Trace left the bedroom and walked out to the kitchen to wash his hands. Cassie eyed him. “I was just going to call you to dinner.”

His gaze darted to the table. She’d fixed him a plate of meatloaf and potatoes, but it looked like she was ready to disappear. “Since you’ve gone to so much trouble, why don’t you eat with me?” It upset him that she felt she had to stay away when he was home for the evening.

“I can’t. I have plans. Just leave everything when you’ve finished and I’ll be back to do the dishes.”

An unaccountable feeling of disappointment passed through him as she walked out the front door. He’d looked forward to talking to her. More important however, there was something he needed to discuss with her tonight. After his therapy session he realized it couldn’t be put off.

His plans to sell the ranch had made her circumstances more precarious because she was pregnant. He hated the idea of bringing her added distress, but she needed to know his plans so she could think about making other work and living arrangements.

When he’d finished eating, he cleaned up the kitchen. Still at a loose end, he went to the bedroom for his laptop. After going to the living room, he looked up some real estate websites for Billings. From the long list, one name stood out he recognized. Over the years he’d seen Hawksworth Realty signs around the White Lodge area and figured they must be a reputable company.

While he jotted down the phone number, he heard the front door open and turned his head. The sight of Cassie brought him more pleasure than it should have. “Home so soon? You weren’t gone long.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/rebecca-winters/a-montana-cowboy/) 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.