The Rancher's Prospect Page 4

  “You’re welcome to go riding at our ranch whenever you want,” his mother told Tara. “Lauren, too, of course.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” Josh said, hoping to head off his mother from suggesting that he give Tara and her sister a personal tour of the McGregor spread. “I’m going to the cafeteria for some better coffee than this sludge. Who wants some?”

  There were several raised hands, along with a rueful shake of the head from Kayla, who was holding her four-month-old daughter. Kayla was forgoing coffee until she was no longer nursing—she’d discovered that even decaf gave the baby colic. Josh knew how hard that must be for her; she’d once lived in Seattle, which was a mecca for coffee lovers, and deeply missed the brew.

  When he returned with a tray of steaming cups, Lauren and her sister had left. His mother was still talking about them, though, and he was convinced she had matchmaking in mind.

  He would have to be careful. The past few months had been hard on the family, especially for his mom. She’d lost her mother and watched her father go from being an active, vital rancher to a querulous old man with disabilities. The arrival of Kayla’s baby had helped, along with having his sister, Alaina, pregnant along with Emily. Still, he didn’t want to raise her hopes that he’d get married anytime soon.

  Right now he was solely interested in the ranch he’d dreamed of building. Grandpa was providing enough roadblocks; he didn’t need any more.

  * * *

  LAUREN PRESSED HER fingers to her stomach as she walked with Tara toward the emergency room exit. She wished negative emotions didn’t bother her so much. Heck, half the time she was wrong, misinterpreting a frown or shrug and losing sleep over what it might mean or questioning what she should do about it...even as she knew she was being ridiculous.

  Josh McGregor was a prime example. The way he’d stomped out of the waiting room had seemed ominous, but it could be her imagination. And even if it wasn’t, it didn’t necessarily mean anything except that he was having a bad day.

  If only that sort of thing didn’t make her feel as if she was shriveling up inside.

  It would be wonderful to be more like Tara. Karen—the receptionist at the clinic—had gleefully recounted how Tara had “stuck it to Josh” when he’d roared into the waiting room earlier in the week. Obviously Karen felt their patient had deserved a dose of comeuppance.

  Maybe so, but Lauren was glad someone else had dispensed the prescription.

  She hadn’t talked enough with Tara to know if her twin was interested in settling down and getting married, but it would be wonderful if she stayed in Montana. There were plenty of nice guys in town. Almost as if summoned by the thought, Lauren saw two men in uniform coming through the double doors to the emergency room. The taller man grinned when he saw her.

  “Hey, Lauren,” Carl said. “I heard about Alaina, so we stopped to say hello to the family and wish them well.”

  Lauren nodded as other kinds of flutters started. “That’s nice of you.”

  Carl was the local sheriff and the man with him was a new deputy. After living in Los Angeles with its frantic pace, she loved the small-town atmosphere in Schuyler. She couldn’t imagine a big-city policeman dropping in like this at the UCLA Medical Center.

  Carl had attended the Trent Hawkins–Emily George wedding, and he and Lauren had sat next to each other at the reception. Lauren had enjoyed talking to him, and after she’d moved to Schuyler last October, they’d gone out several times.

  “Holy cow,” Carl said, staring at Tara. “You said you had a twin, but it didn’t hit me until just now what that meant.”

  “Sometimes I feel the same way. Tara, this is Carl Stanfield. And the deputy next to him is Noah Mercer.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Tara said.

  “Same here.” Carl cocked his head. “You almost have an accent, but I can’t place it.”

  “I’ve lived in five different countries over the past ten years. There’s no telling how much has rubbed off.”

  “That explains it. Noah is the same—he spent most of his childhood in New Zealand and Germany.”

  Tara turned to the deputy, asking about a place in Auckland that she’d visited, while Carl urged Lauren down the hall a few feet.

  “I’ve stopped by the clinic to see you,” he said, “but you’re usually with a patient.”

  “They keep me pretty busy.”

  “I’m sure they do. But now that you’ve had a chance to get more settled, I wonder if we could get together for dinner again?”

  Renewed flutters went through Lauren’s abdomen. She liked Carl...liked him enough that she’d excused any further dates by saying she needed to get more settled. Carl was attractive and her pulse jumped whenever she saw him, but they were incompatible, so it didn’t make sense to continue.

  “I’m sorry to put you off another time,” she said slowly, “but with my sister here, I shouldn’t take time from her visit.” Darn it, why couldn’t she just say no?

  “Don’t be silly,” Tara exclaimed, apparently overhearing them. “You can’t put the rest of your life on hold while I’m in Montana. Go ahead.”

  “Oh... I...in that case, it would be nice, Carl.”

  He flashed his wide smile at her. “Great. How about Saturday night?”

  “I don’t know, I’m on call for the next week,” she said, still hoping he’d get the message that she didn’t actually want to go out with him again. “I try to keep things quiet so I’ll be at my best if I’m needed.”

  That was the truth. Medical personnel were limited in the area, and they took turns being available for after-hours emergencies.

  “I understand. Would the following Saturday work?”

  Obviously he wasn’t giving up, and Lauren wondered if she was unconsciously sending the wrong signals.

  “Uh, sure,” she answered, unable to think of another excuse. A shred of irritation went through her. Most guys would have gotten the message with the first excuse she’d used, or at least the second. Even Billy Halloran, a notorious Schuyler flirt, had backed off when she’d told him that she wasn’t free because she was painting her apartment and who knew how long it would take?

  Of course, it was doubtful that sensitivity had anything to do with Billy’s reaction. He’d disappeared at the speed of light, possibly worried she’d ask him to help.

  Carl would have rolled up his sleeves and taken over the project, ignoring her protests. In the time they’d already spent together, his take-charge personality had been obvious, which was partly why she couldn’t envision a relationship with him. Someone like her would get swept under, like a swimmer in a riptide.

  “I’ll drop by the clinic and we can discuss the details,” Carl said, drawing Lauren’s attention back to the present. He smiled again and walked with his deputy toward the maternity wing.

  Outside Tara studied her curiously. “Is something wrong? You’re flushed.”

  “No. Everything is fine.”

  To avoid further questions, Lauren headed for the fitness trail, setting a rapid pace that Tara easily matched, though in her case she made it look like a sexy, long-legged stroll.

  It was too bad they still hadn’t developed the close relationship that sisters should share. That way Tara might have teased her about Carl and she could have explained that she liked him, but that she wasn’t his kind of woman...the main factors being his career and her unfortunate streak of timidity.

  In the beginning, her old boyfriend in Los Angeles had found those qualities attractive—it had made him feel protective and manly. But after a while Kendall had suggested she take assertiveness training and get counseling for her self-image. She’d broken up with him not long afterward.

  Carl was a sheriff who’d been a big-city cop. He’d dealt with everything from traffic violators to murderers.
It would take him even less time than Kendall to realize he’d rather be with someone gutsier. But she couldn’t explain that to her sister, who was strong and confident enough to live and travel alone in foreign countries. They barely knew each other—what if Tara thought less of her because of it?

  “You’re quiet,” Tara commented after they’d circled the park twice.

  “Just, um, getting my head together for work,” Lauren said. It was true, more or less. She needed to think less about her abysmal love life and more about the good things she had going, such as connecting with her long-lost sister. That was great, even if being around Tara made her feel like the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz.

  Taking a deep breath, Lauren decided she didn’t have to make a big deal out of the situation. It was just one more date. Carl hadn’t suggested getting serious; he’d just asked if they could have another dinner together. She didn’t have to go out with him again once it was over.

  She was both relieved and a little depressed at the thought.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A WEEK LATER Tara walked down an aisle at the grocery store, selecting spices. The restaurant food in Schuyler was tasty and certainly “indigenous,” but she was ready to vary things up with her favorite dishes from the countries she’d traveled to. Not that there was a huge selection of exotic ingredients available, but she could make do. Cooking was often a question of style as much as content.

  It would also be good to experiment with recipes off the internet. In fact, she was ready to try anything to occupy herself. She was accustomed to working regular hours and maximizing her free time to see everything possible in the places she lived. In Schuyler she didn’t have a job, and her sister had long shifts at the medical clinic. Montana scenery was stunning, but nobody could spend all day, every day, just looking at the beautiful vistas.

  Before long she’d realized she would go stark raving crazy without something more to do. Fortunately, that was changing since word had gone around Schuyler about the kind of work she did. More than once she’d heard, “I understand you do bookkeeping and organize stuff.” It was a simplistic description of her professional skills, but that was okay. She needed to occupy some of her time and didn’t mind trimming her fees to fit her new environment.

  Today Tara was going to talk with a prospective client out in the country. His lawyer, Vanta Cooper, had contacted her, explaining that ill health had necessitated bringing in outside help. When she’d heard the name, Walt Nelson, she had immediately agreed, remembering him from the hospital.

  Rather than use GPS, she studied a local map and memorized the route to the Boxing N. Shortly before two she pulled up next to a small building with a sign that identified it as the office.

  “Good to see you again, Tara,” Walt said as he limped forward to meet her. “When you mentioned records management at the hospital, it gave me the idea of having you work in my office here. My lawyer’s office said they’d track you down.”

  “I’m glad they did, Mr. Nelson,” she agreed with a smile.

  “Call me Walt. You mind if I call you Tara?”

  She smiled. “Not in the least.”

  “Come see the disaster zone.”

  He led the way into the building’s main room and Tara knew what Vanta had meant when she’d said that “paperwork isn’t Walt’s favorite occupation.” The chaos was obviously a long-standing condition. Papers were everywhere, and it was unlikely the ancient desk to the left had ever seen a computer.

  But the room was pleasant, with windows that provided gorgeous views of rolling ranch land as well as the gardens around the house. On the right were comfortable chairs, a small sink, refrigerator, stove and coffeemaker. Plainly it was more than an office; it was also a gathering place, though she didn’t know whether it was for employees or friends.

  “I don’t suppose what we need done here is like your work in Paris,” Walt continued. “It may seem ridiculous to you.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s business is ridiculous,” she told him honestly. “Your needs will be different from the records management systems used by an international corporation, but I wouldn’t expect that on a ranch.”

  He peered at her, his faded eyes looking sad. “How did you like working in Paris and all those other places you’ve lived?”

  Realizing he wanted more than a pat answer, Tara thought for a moment before responding. “There is nothing quite like living among people who grew up in a different culture. What’s automatic for me may not be for them, and vice versa. It’s an adventure.”

  Heaving a sigh, Walt settled into one of the easy chairs. “So you’re a Magellan of the modern age.”

  “I don’t have much to keep me anchored in the United States, that’s all.”

  “The ranch was my anchor...perhaps my prison, as well.”

  The last words were mumbled, and Tara wasn’t sure she’d understood him correctly. She sat quietly while his eyelids drooped; she wasn’t in a hurry and he looked tired. After a few minutes, he shook himself and sat forward.

  “My apologies. It’s those blasted pain pills the doctor gave me. But I won’t need them much longer. I’m set on that.” His voice was grimly determined.

  While she knew she might be romanticizing the moment, Tara suspected she was seeing the grit made legendary in movie Westerns, except this wasn’t two stylized hours on celluloid. It was the real thing.

  “I’ve got to check on a new foal,” Walt said, lurching to his feet. “Go ahead and poke around. Vanta explained you work as a contractor, setting your own hours and such, which is fine with me. If you don’t want to tackle such a mess, there won’t be any hard feelings.”

  “Don’t worry, Walt. I think it’s going to work out fine. Just so you know, some of the time I’ll work only mornings or afternoons, depending on my other commitments and whether my sister has the time off.”

  He nodded. “That’s fine. Shake on it?”

  Tara took his hand and was surprised by the firmness of his grip. She also realized that the odd sense of connection she’d experienced was even stronger than when she had met him at the hospital. He was different from the suave, cosmopolitan executives she normally worked with; there was something rough and genuine about Walt Nelson.

  “By the way,” he added, “just to be clear, I’m the one hiring you, not the Boxing N.”

  Not sure what the difference meant, she nodded. There could be a trust involved or something that made it important to clarify. She’d probably learn the reasons as she went along.

  Once Tara was alone in the office, she began looking through various stacks and drawers, cubbyholes and shelves. There were at least fifty years of ranch records, many of them mixed up with current paperwork.

  Twenty minutes later she ran across a yellowed handwritten invoice dated 1872, wherein a Zebedee Nelson recorded the sale of fifty head of cattle. The expense of the cattle drive bringing them to market was annotated on the bottom. It was a whole lot more interesting than most corporate historical records she’d seen, and as she sat studying the paper, a soft breeze came through an open window.

  In Paris she’d worked in a modern high-rise, surrounded by desks, bright uniform lights and the hum of hundreds of people going about their business. This would be a nice break, at least for the time being. She had a feeling Lauren hoped she would consider staying in Schuyler, but Tara had always felt the need to be constantly moving forward. She couldn’t picture giving up her career and staying in one place.

  * * *

  JOSH TURNED OFF his satellite phone as he rode toward the Boxing N ranch center. He was discouraged. After two days of having a help wanted ad in the local newspaper, his only calls had been from a high school senior looking for an after-school job and a retired pharmacist who’d moved to Schuyler the previous autumn and had “always wanted to be a cowboy.�
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  Surely it would get better. And after he got more help on the ranch, there’d be time for some of the other things that had to be done.

  A silver Toyota was parked by the ranch office, and Josh frowned. In the past, his grandfather had met his cronies there because they could smoke their cigars without bothering his wife. But Walt had given up smoking years ago, and since Evelyn was gone, he no longer needed the office as a separate gathering spot. Still, old habits died hard.

  After grooming Lightfoot, Josh tiredly made his way to the foreman’s house and slumped into an Adirondack chair on the porch. But as two figures came out of the ranch office and stood together beside the car, Josh leaned forward. One of them was his grandfather; Walt’s labored pace was impossible to mistake. But the other was a woman, and even from this distance, Josh could see she possessed very attractive curves.

  Curiosity drove him to his feet, and he strode toward the office. But as he got closer, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Tara Livingston. What the devil was she doing here?

  “Hey, Grandpa,” he said as he came close. “Is everything all right?”

  “Of course,” Walt said. He appeared thoroughly self-satisfied, which was instantly worrisome. “As I recall, you’ve already met Miss Livingston. I just hired her to get the office in order.”

  Josh managed to swallow the “hell, no,” that instantly leaped into his mouth. “Really?” he choked out instead. If it wasn’t one complication, it was another.

  “Yep. I’ve been thinking about doing it, and she came along at the right moment.”

  Tara’s eyes sparkled, and Josh was sure she’d guessed his reaction.

  “I see,” he said. “Perhaps you could have consulted me first.”

  “No point,” Walt informed him stiffly. “I told you I’d take care of things. Tara, when will you be starting?”