The Rancher's Prospect Page 3

  Their food came, and as Tara ate, she saw Josh McGregor inhale an enormous hamburger so fast he probably didn’t even taste it on the way down. The corner of her mouth twitched as she saw a splash of sauce from the burger hit the neat bandage on his hand. He wiped it quickly and got up, tossing money on the table.

  On his way to the door he gave her another polite nod, but Tara wasn’t fooled. Whatever had been burning under his facade was still smoldering.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE THIRD NIGHT after he’d cut his hand, Josh wished he’d filled the prescription for painkillers from Lauren; instead it was still in his wallet. He’d decided to tough things out.

  He lay in bed for another few minutes, listening to the sounds that drifted in through the open window—cattle lowing, the neighs from the horses...a night breeze through the trees. Finally, he rolled out of bed and took two aspirins before dropping into the living room recliner.

  The house Josh lived in was a couple hundred feet from the main house. His choice to stay in the foreman’s residence, instead of with Walt, was another source of tension between them. Walt thought his grandson should be at his immediate beck and call, though not because of uncertainty over his health. He just wanted to yell that the barns needed to be checked or to do some other task...usually something Josh had already handled or assigned to someone.

  Josh’s mouth tightened.

  Unreasonable expectations were why the foreman’s house had been empty. Grandpa was an old-school rancher who believed in running things with an iron fist, and no foreman worth his salt was willing to be treated as a glorified flunky. Walt had never kept anyone for more than a few months.

  Belatedly recalling the recommendation Lauren Spencer had made, Josh raised his injured arm and draped it above his head.

  Maybe if he hadn’t repaired the corral his hand wouldn’t be throbbing so much, but he couldn’t take any time off to let the gash heal—there was too much to do.

  Now another cowhand had quit, leaving with the wry remark that he hoped to get his final pay. Josh presumed it was a reference to the deplorable state of the ranch office. Walt’s name remained on the ranch accounts and he insisted that he could continue writing the checks, but payments were erratic. When Josh had brought it up earlier, the old man had furiously claimed he had a plan and would get it done.

  Right, a plan.

  His grandfather kept an old-style ledger book to carefully track the number of foals born each year, but all the other ranch accounts were in shambles. Walt practically considered a computer to be blasphemy and the internet a passing fad not worth thinking about. Apparently it had escaped his notice that his wife had owned a computer and used the internet.

  When Josh had moved in, he’d had the internet service transferred to the foreman’s house. His next step would have to be getting a computer online at the ranch office, though he could imagine his grandfather’s explosion when he did so.

  Josh released a heavy breath.

  God, he missed Grandma Evelyn. She was the one who’d kept peace between her husband and the rest of the family. But it was more than that. She’d been a wise, beautiful, laughter-filled presence in his life. Losing her had left a hole that refused to heal.

  His family kept urging him to have patience with Walt, but they didn’t know how bad things had gotten. Legally Josh now owned the Boxing N and could do what he wanted, but how could he oust his grandfather? Hang the legalities; it was still Walt’s ranch. But like it or not, Josh knew he’d have to take control of the office at some point. Bills and the payroll needed to be properly managed, along with any stock sales or purchases. He didn’t want to get a reputation for being unreliable.

  The throbbing slowly eased in his hand, and Josh had fallen asleep, when the phone rang. He grabbed the receiver, adrenaline racing through him.

  “Yes?”

  “We need to get to the hospital,” said his grandfather.

  Josh shot to his feet. Walt had been frail since the accident, and his continuing health issues had put stress on his heart. Was it possible their heated discussion about the ranch office had brought on a heart attack or stroke?

  “What symptoms are you having?”

  “It isn’t me,” Grandpa returned irritably. “It’s Alaina. Your sister has gone into labor.”

  Josh’s pulse slowed. It was good news, not an emergency.

  “If it’s just started, we don’t have to rush,” he said. “Mom says first babies take time. Get some more sleep and we’ll go in a couple of hours.”

  “No, now.”

  Josh released an exasperated breath. He might have known Walt wouldn’t budge. His grandfather was crazy about Alaina, despite her being related to the McGregor clan rather than the Nelsons. It had taken Walt a while to accept both Trent and Alaina after they were adopted by his daughter and son-in-law, but Alaina had totally won him over.

  A few minutes later Josh stepped outside. Grandpa was waiting on the porch of the main house and without a word climbed into the cab of the truck, maneuvering his bad leg into place.

  Josh headed for town, his hand pulsing again. He could take the pain med prescription to the pharmacy in a couple of hours, but he hated the way that stuff made him feel. That was one of the few things he shared with Walt; his grandfather didn’t like taking anything for pain, either.

  * * *

  TARA EXITED HER apartment complex and saw Lauren coming down the block toward her. They’d discovered a mutual fondness for early-morning walks and had agreed to meet each day at 6:00 a.m. so they could go together. It was a relief to finally discover something in common.

  Tara fell in step with her sister, who had started toward the edge of town. “Do you always take the same route?” she asked.

  “Usually. I guess that makes me boring, but I enjoy the fitness trail. It’s great to get away from houses and power lines. I could never do it easily in Los Angeles, but would you rather go another way?”

  “This works for me.”

  Beginning at the hospital, the path continued out to the county park, where it branched into different directions. Tara had first seen the park on one of her drives; it was a pretty place and she looked forward to exploring it thoroughly. But as they walked through the hospital’s small parking lot, Lauren’s pace slowed.

  “That’s Trent’s truck,” she said, gesturing to a vehicle with Big Sky Construction painted on the door. “Emily is only five months along—it’s too early. Do you mind if we... Well, you don’t need to go in. You should continue on without me.”

  “No, I’ll come with you,” Tara told her. It didn’t seem right to ignore Lauren’s concern for her friend. Besides, with nothing else to do in Schuyler, she could walk whenever she wanted.

  “We’ll need to go in through the emergency room because it’s so early,” Lauren explained, leading her to a side door.

  The hospital wasn’t large, but from what Tara saw as she followed her sister, it was clean and modern.

  Lauren turned into a hallway marked Maternity and stopped when she saw the waiting room full of people.

  “Em, are you all right?” she exclaimed, rushing over to a woman in a navy blue maternity dress. “We were going for a walk when I saw Trent’s truck outside.”

  “Nothing is wrong,” Emily assured, patting her rounded tummy. “Alaina went into labor. The whole family gathers for stuff like this. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Lauren nodded fervently.

  Tara wasn’t sure what she’d expected of her sister’s oldest friend, but while Emily Hawkins wasn’t a raving beauty, she was pretty and positively glowed as she hugged the arm of a tall, handsome man who had to be her husband. A strange envy went through Tara when she saw the tender way he looked down at his wife.

  Recalling that Josh McGregor was a member of the family, Tar
a scanned the room and saw him in a corner, his hand elevated, with what appeared to be fresh blood on the bandage. Curious, she went over and saw the wrapping was no longer pristine white, but dingy from a lot more than the hamburger sauce she’d seen him spill on it. Undeniably, there was fresh blood, as well.

  Josh’s mouth tightened at her obvious interest, but he stood nevertheless. Certain age-old male courtesies were alive and well in Schuyler, Montana—cowboys tipped their hats and men stood in a woman’s presence.

  “It looks as though you need another lecture,” she said softly.

  Beyond a set jaw, Josh didn’t react.

  A youngster sitting nearby was staring at Tara in fascination. “Golly, you do look like Lauren,” she declared, then cocked her head. “But in a way you don’t, only I’m not sure why.”

  “DeeDee, at least introduce yourself before spouting off,” scolded a woman with auburn hair. She stood and smiled at Tara. “I’m Kayla McGregor, and this is my daughter, DeeDee.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tara Livingston.”

  “Why isn’t your name Spencer, like Lauren?” DeeDee asked.

  “Because Lauren was adopted by the Spencer family and they changed her name,” Tara explained, hoping the youngster wouldn’t ask more questions. She didn’t enjoy thinking about her childhood or telling people that she’d never been adopted. Instead, she’d grown up in foster homes until she’d aged out of the system at eighteen. The situation wasn’t unusual, but when you were a kid, hoping for a family of your own, it was hard not to wonder if something was wrong with you rather than understand that some people were reluctant to adopt older children.

  Across the waiting room Lauren was talking to a man dressed in surgical scrubs; a moment later she hurried toward Tara. “Everything is going well with Alaina,” she said.

  A perverse mood nudged Tara. “Mr. McGregor’s hand might be the exception.”

  “I’m fine,” Josh snapped.

  “Really? I could swear that’s fresh blood. But since you’re at a hospital, I’m sure you can get help if you need it,” she added, mindful that her sister was off duty.

  Lauren immediately turned to Josh. “Let me check it for you. I can probably get supplies from the emergency room.”

  His head shook once in a definitive rejection. “You said there would be drainage, and that’s all this is.” Yet he flinched in obvious discomfort as he shifted his arm.

  Lauren hesitated as she looked at the grubby bandage. “Uh, Josh, you need a clean dressing at the very least, and if you’re in excessive pain, you could have an infection.”

  “I’m just, uh, late with a pain pill, that’s all. I’ll put a fresh wrapping on it later.”

  His tone made Tara wonder if there was more to the story, but maybe she’d prodded him enough. She wasn’t even sure why she had done it the first time, unless it was the universal impulse of poking a sleeping snake to see if it was alive...and seeing how quickly you could jump out of striking range.

  “Okay,” Lauren said, though she didn’t sound convinced and shot another worried glance at the filthy bandage.

  It was curious that she wasn’t being more forthright, but on the other hand, Josh McGregor did the tough he-man thing so well, it would take someone far more self-assured to challenge him. Besides, he hadn’t come for follow-up medical care; he was just waiting for his sister to give birth.

  Lauren crossed the room to speak with someone else, so Tara decided to prod Josh a little further, after all.

  “Personally,” she said, “even if the inside is okay, which I doubt, the outside of that bandage looks like something from a horror film.”

  That was when he turned and stalked out of the room.

  Tara stood back and waited as her sister made the rounds of the waiting room, then became aware of an older man a few feet away. His head was cocked as he stared at her.

  She smiled. “Hi, I’m Tara Livingston.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Walt Nelson. You, uh, remind me of my wife when we first met—beautiful and sassy.”

  “I...have a feeling you just gave me a lovely compliment,” she answered. No one else was paying any attention to the two of them and there was a strange air of intimacy, even in the midst of the group.

  “Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head.”

  An instinctive liking for the elderly man washed over Tara. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. “I do records management, so I’ll just file it under Compliments to Be Ignored.”

  Walt leaned back in his chair and she realized he seemed tired and frail.

  “Records management,” he murmured. “That’s interesting.” That was all, and after a few moments, he appeared to be growing drowsy, so she shifted the other direction so he wouldn’t feel he had to continue talking.

  Aside from that brief, odd interchange, Tara felt more out of place than the first time she’d landed in a foreign country. Still, there was something pleasant about the atmosphere in the waiting room, everyone showing up to welcome a new baby.

  Family, an inner voice whispered.

  A familiar ache went through Tara, but she refused to poke that spot; her own life was just fine being traveled solo.

  * * *

  JOSH TRIED NOT TO glare at Tara Livingston as he returned to his chair with a cup of coffee from the vending machine; someone might notice and he didn’t want his foul mood to become the subject of a family discussion. However, it didn’t stop him from deciding that Tara was an annoying termagant—an old-fashioned word he’d picked up from Grandma Evelyn. But the term fit Tara, who was so unlike her sister. Lauren, with her friendly nature, had quickly found a home in Schuyler. Perhaps that was the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own short fuse the past few months, but there was no denying that Tara had a sharp tongue.

  Now that he wasn’t being taken by surprise, he saw fewer and fewer similarities between the two women. There was a superficial likeness, but their personalities were completely different. Even their clothes were distinctive—Lauren wore a loose dark blue sweat suit, while Tara had chosen formfitting jeans that showcased every delicious curve. As for her snug designer T-shirt...? It reminded him that she was remarkably well built.

  “Hello. You’re obviously Lauren’s sister.” His mother’s voice intruded into his thoughts. Always gracious, she’d come over to introduce herself. “I’m Sarah McGregor, and you must be Tara. How nice of you to come with Lauren to check on Emily.”

  “Not at all. I’m glad your daughter-in-law is all right,” Tara said politely. “I take it Alaina, the one having the baby, is your daughter?”

  “Yes, I’m so blessed. Five children and three of them married now.”

  Josh leaned forward, interested by Tara’s discomfort in talking to his mom. It seemed strange since she hadn’t quailed under his bad temper, but you never knew.

  His mother glanced at him and back at Tara. “I gather you met my son before this morning...?”

  “That’s right,” Josh interjected, hoping to head off any revelations Tara might make. “We ran into each other when I went to the clinic for my hand.”

  “Yes,” Tara agreed smoothly. “He thought I was Lauren, but I don’t have a medical background. I do accounting and records management for an international company based out of London.”

  His mother seemed oddly disappointed. “Then you won’t be staying in Schuyler?”

  “Not permanently. I’m a freelance contractor and my latest contract just ended. An extended visit seemed the best way to get better acquainted with my sister.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Lauren said in a soft, enthusiastic voice. “Tara says she can take a few months off before she goes back to work. Of course, then she’ll be heading off to Berlin or Singapore or some other faraway spot.”

  “B
ut you’ll be here until then?” Sarah pressed Tara.

  “As far as I know.”

  Josh restrained a groan, suddenly realizing why his mother was so curious. Now that he was back in Montana, she’d decided it was time he got married. She’d had mixed feelings about him falling in love when he worked in Texas...since a wife from the Lone Star state might expect him to remain there instead of come home.

  But Josh had no interest in marriage, not until he got things in order at the Boxing N. Then...maybe. Great-Uncle Mitch had never married and seemed quite happy. Meanwhile, Josh enjoyed dating, but it had nothing to do with looking for a life partner.

  “Do you enjoy horseback riding?” Sarah asked Tara.

  “Very much, though I haven’t gone for a couple of years. Mostly I was able to ride while living in England. I also got a couple of chances when visiting the Australian outback.”

  England? Australia? And most recently she’d lived in France? Boy, was his mother barking up the wrong tree. When and if he ever wanted a long-term relationship, it wouldn’t be with someone whose lifestyle took her all over the world. Someone like that would never stay long in Montana.

  A rancher needed a wife who loved ranching alongside him. Josh had already seen how hard a marriage could be without a shared passion. Grandma Evelyn had come from San Francisco and never completely adjusted to ranch life. Actually, Josh wasn’t sure what had held Walt and Evelyn together. It must have been a case of knowing they could have married more wisely but were making the best of things. His grandfather’s priority had been the Boxing N above everything else, and Grandma Evelyn had loved art, music and flower gardens.

  He glanced at his grandfather, who’d briefly fallen asleep earlier but was awake and blinking groggily. If only Walt would try to make the best of things now, but he wanted things his way and only his way. Ironically, Grandpa never would have put up with that behavior when he was a young man; stories of the battles between Walt and his father were epic. Of course, those battles might have started his stubborn refusal to see anyone else’s point of view.