Her Holiday Rancher
Her Holiday Rancher
Cathy McDavid
A COWBOY FOR ALL SEASONSFour generations of Dempseys have struggled to turn the Dos Estrellas ranch into a successful cattle operation. Gabe Dempsey vows to keep the dream alive, even if he has to share ownership with two half-brothers, who are virtual strangers. They are also pressuring him to sell—which will happen over his dead body. Luckily, Reese McGraw is the trustee of his father's estate, and she's on Gabe's side. For now.Reese is happy to support Gabe in his fight to keep the ranch—but is her support a conflict of interest? His brothers seem to think so. Gabe and Reese's growing feelings for each other are a problem, too. But maybe it's one that will be solved by the magic of Christmas!
A COWBOY FOR ALL SEASONS
Four generations of Dempseys have struggled to turn the Dos Estrellas ranch into a successful cattle operation. Gabe Dempsey vows to keep the dream alive, even if he has to share ownership with two half-brothers, who are virtual strangers. They are also pressuring him to sell—which will happen over his dead body. Luckily, Reese McGraw is the trustee of his father’s estate, and she’s on Gabe’s side. For now.
Reese is happy to support Gabe in his fight to keep the ranch—but is her support a conflict of interest? His brothers seem to think so. Gabe and Reese’s growing feelings for each other are a problem, too. But maybe it’s one that will be solved by the magic of Christmas!
“You’re at odds with your brothers. The ranch is in debt. The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“I’m going to kiss you, Reese.”
The sparks ignited a shiver. “You say that like I don’t have a choice.”
“You do. You can tell me no. But I happen to think you’d like me to kiss you, too.”
He was obviously skilled at mind reading. Gabe’s confidence was annoying. It was also very attractive. Reese felt herself falling for him in a way she hadn’t fallen for a man before and, she admitted, was a little scared.
“No,” she said, in an attempt to regain control.
He lowered his head. Their mouths were almost, nearly, and then barely touching. “I don’t believe you.”
“What do you want from me?” she whispered.
“Surrender.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_587d0151-ebb7-5657-b348-82ed638a4867),
Every new book is special to me. The first book of a new series, even more special. Her Holiday Rancher is both a new book and the first book in a brand-new series. Well, not really. I’m happy to be returning to one of my favorite places, the quaint horse community of Mustang Valley.
The first four books centered on the Powell family and their riding stable and horse breeding business. I also introduced Prince, the last remaining wild mustang in the area. With this new series, the mustang sanctuary started by the Powells has grown by two hundred head and is now located at Dos Estrellas Ranch, home to the Dempsey clan and their struggling cattle operation.
To say the least, the Dempsey brothers don’t get along. Separated when they were young, Gabe Dempsey is forced into an unwilling partnership of the ranch with his two estranged brothers following the death of their father. If that weren’t bad enough, the trustee of his late father’s estate is none other than Reese McGraw, daughter of Dos Estrellas’ neighbor and biggest competitor. This makes for complicated and interesting family dynamics, one of my favorite elements to explore in books. Well, and the horses. Gotta love them, too!
I hope you enjoy Her Holiday Rancher and that you find it the perfect holiday read. It’s been a joy for me to return to Mustang Valley. Glad you’re taking the trip with me.
Warmest wishes,
Cathy McDavid
cathymcdavid.com (http://www.cathymcdavid.com)Facebook.com/CathyMcDavid (https://www.facebook.com/cathy.mcdavid)@CathyMcDavid (https://twitter.com/cathymcdavid)
Her Holiday
Rancher
Cathy McDavid
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For the past eighteen years New York Times bestselling author CATHY McDAVID has been juggling a family, a job and writing, and doing pretty well at it, except for the housecleaning part. “Mostly” retired from the corporate business world, she writes full-time from her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains. Her twins have “mostly” left home, returning every now and then to raid her refrigerator. On weekends, she heads to her cabin in the mountains, always taking her laptop with her. You can visit her website at cathymcdavid.com (http://www.cathymcdavid.com).
To the two groups who have made me a better writer, given me guidance and unconditional support, and opened up a whole new world for me: my critique group (twelve years strong, can you believe it?) and Valley of the Sun Romance Writers. You are more than my friends, you are pieces of my heart.
Contents
Cover (#ue3222f48-0d00-5419-8c47-b485648af036)
Back Cover Text (#uce259b0e-d164-56ca-a49b-61907e3bec12)
Introduction (#u565f6874-fc03-54fa-a401-fcda3d472d1c)
Dear Reader (#ulink_1651fb04-eba6-502f-af26-44da7fca2aee)
Title Page (#ua049b710-5cb3-5a28-addd-d340056fbd76)
About the Author (#u2a5d00e0-69cd-5598-929d-3d625988e221)
Dedication (#u4ea9c0ea-5bce-595f-a148-1f4a9cbc9d5c)
Chapter One (#ulink_691c60cc-f607-5f29-b5e4-c982fbbda98a)
Chapter Two (#ulink_967bfb96-04e9-5b28-aab4-a9e0a82e0ca9)
Chapter Three (#ulink_5a883e0f-c166-56c8-a7ac-a0b689f0c243)
Chapter Four (#ulink_104c662d-fd3f-5e9a-b17b-fec58362267d)
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)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_d3ce8b39-5885-5d6f-ade1-a4626e2bcf0a)
What the small brown mare lacked in size, she more than made up for in muscle and determination. Lowering her head, she put all her weight into her forequarters and plowed up the mountainside. With each powerful step, dirt and small rocks exploded from beneath her hooves, tumbling downward like a miniature landslide.
Gabriel Dempsey rode the mare hard to the top of the rise. Once there, they stopped to rest, both of them breathing hard, their legs trembling. Despite her exertion, the mare would keep going if he asked. She wasn’t just young and strong. The blood from generations of wild mustangs ran in her veins, infusing her with a spirit and unbreakable will unmatched by any other breed of horse.
No, it was Gabe who couldn’t go on. He was spent. Utterly and completely exhausted. Not from the trail ride, but from the emotional events of the past four days.
Exactly seventeen months and twenty-three days after the doctor’s initial prognosis, cancer had taken his father’s life.
Today, the family had memorialized him in a service that had brought out half the town of Mustang Valley, along with a hundred other mourners from all over Arizona. Tomorrow Gabe and his family would spread August Dempsey’s ashes in the flower garden behind the house.
His father would spend eternity where he, Gabe’s grandfather and great-grandfather had lived and toiled their entire lives, on the three-thousand-acre Dos Estrellas Ranch.
Shading his eyes against the glaring afternoon sun, Gabe stared at the ranch nestled in the valley below. From this distance, the house, barns and outbuildings appeared deceptively small, like a painting hanging on a wall. Adding to the illusion were horses in the back pastures and sixteen hundred head of cattle dotting the extensive grazing lands beyond the pastures.
Grief suddenly gripped Gabe’s chest like a giant metal vise, colder than the November wind ripping across the rise from the slopes of the nearby McDowell Mountains.
He sat straight in the saddle, refusing to succumb to emotion or show the slightest sign of weakness. Even out here, where there wasn’t another living soul for two miles in any direction. The battle facing him at home promised to be a difficult one. This was only the beginning.
Among all the mourners gathered at the ranch to pay their final respects to one of Mustang Valley’s greatest citizens were two strangers. Gabe’s half brothers. August Dempsey’s legitimate sons. Rumor had it, they’d come to claim their share of the Dos Estrellas Ranch, left to them by the father they barely knew. Gabe would know for sure tomorrow afternoon at the reading of the will.
If they did inherit, he intended to fight them tooth and nail, regardless if he had a legal right to the ranch or not. He was the son who’d worked side by side with their father for over two decades. The son who was proud of his heritage and treasured it. Who loved the ranch with the same fervor and devotion as any Dempsey before him. He hadn’t left as a kid and never returned.
Giving the mare a nudge, Gabe followed the narrow deer trail south as it alternately dipped, climbed and snaked. Not far below him, a line of barbed wire fencing ran parallel to the trail.
The fence separated Dos Estrellas from its nearest neighbor and longtime cattle-ranching rival, the Small Change, though small was a misnomer. The ranch was twice the size of Dos Estrellas and these days, owner Theo McGraw ran close to thirty-five hundred head of fat, sassy cattle.
Cancer was a greedy disease and had taken more than Gabe’s father. Astronomical medical bills continued to pour in daily, many of which weren’t covered by health insurance. With no choice, Gabe and his mother had sold off what they could, depleting Dos Estrellas’s resources. It wasn’t enough, and the wolves continued to prowl outside their door. Gabe and his half brothers might well wind up fighting over a pile of scraps.
The trail abruptly veered west. Gabe and the mare dropped down into the mouth of a ravine thick with creosote, sage and cacti. Last month’s heavy rains had resulted in abundant desert foliage that had survived the recent cold snap and remained a vibrant green.
At the bottom of the ravine, the mare halted. Lifting her head, she smelled the air, her ears pricked forward.
“What do you see, Bonita?”
Gabe had been raised around horses and trusted their instincts, especially those of a mustang born in the wild. Something was amiss.
He sat still and listened, his eyes scanning the uneven horizon. Coyotes and bobcats regularly traveled this ravine, along with the occasional mountain lion. None were an immediate threat. Desert predators usually avoided humans. The mare’s survival instincts, however, were powerful, and she might attempt to flee.
She didn’t, which Gabe found interesting. Whatever lurked in the bush clearly wasn’t a predator. What, then—
A sharp, shrill screech pierced the air followed by a faint cry of distress. Pausing long enough to choose the best course, he set off in the direction of the sounds, taking the steep trail at a brisk trot, the fastest he dare go without endangering himself or Bonita.
At the top of the rise, his heart stopped cold. The entire back half of a horse was submerged in a sinkhole, nearly up to the saddle horn. The horse’s head and front legs stuck out of the narrow opening at a painful and impossible angle, almost as if he were standing up. Covered with mud and wide-eyed with fright, the horse flailed helplessly.
On the ground in front of the horse, beyond the reach of the sinkhole, a woman attempted to free him by jerking on the reins and calling out encouragements. Both woman and horse were clearly done in from the struggle. Without help, the horse would eventually die. Every moment counted.
Gabe dug his boot heels into Bonita’s sides. The mare didn’t hesitate and carried them down the steep slope. More than once she nearly lost her footing, slipping and sliding over the rocky terrain. At the bottom, Gabe tugged hard on the reins, slowing Bonita and bringing her under control.
“Are you okay?” he called to the woman, covering the remaining distance at a lope.
“I need help.” She spared him the briefest of glances, paused for a fraction of a second, then went right back to pulling on the reins.
Gabe’s brain registered two things simultaneously. First, there was no way in hell she was ever going to save that horse by herself. Maybe no one could. Second, he’d seen the woman a mere four hours earlier at the funeral. She’d sat in the rear pew of the crowded church next to her father, Theo McGraw, Gabe’s father’s rival.
“Hang on.” Gabe jumped off Bonita and, leading the mare, approached Reese McGraw. “Got yourself in a fix here.”
“I missed the hole. It was covered with twigs and dead leaves.”
Sinkholes weren’t uncommon in the desert, especially after heavy rains, though they were generally larger. This particular hazard was deceptively small, measuring three and a half feet at its widest point, and easy to miss.
“It happens,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Can you help me get him out?”
“I’ll try.”
She swallowed, and Gabe noticed the dried streaks on her cheeks. Had she been crying or was the cold wind responsible for her tears?
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” She shook her head, and a hank of shoulder-length strawberry blond hair loosened from its clip. As if sensing his gaze, she said, “I lost my hat when I bailed off.”
“We’ll find it later.” The hat didn’t matter. He was simply trying to calm her. She’d need all her strength for the ordeal ahead, along with her concentration.
She continued tugging on the reins, which the confused horse fought, jerking his big head to the side rather than using the added momentum to hoist himself out of the hole.
“Take it easy,” Gabe said.
“I can’t. If I do, he’ll sink deeper.”
“No, he won’t. Trust me.” Gabe put up a restraining hand. “Hold steady, but don’t pull. Not yet. Wait until I tell you to.”
“What are you going to do?” Worry filled her eyes.
Gabe hadn’t noticed their vibrant green color before. Then again, he generally avoided Reese. “Well, if we can’t drag him out, I’ll ride for help.”
Neither of them voiced aloud what they were doubtless thinking; there may not be time for that. Who knew the depth of the hole? One wrong move, and the horse’s own weight could drag him under the mud.
Gabe decided he’d seen enough death for one week. If it was at all humanly possible, he would save this horse.
“Focus on keeping his head up,” he told Reese.
Gabe lined up Bonita next to her. The mare obediently stood quiet. Next, he removed the coil of rope from his saddlebag and fastened one end to a metal ring on the right side of his saddle. Letting out rope a foot at a time, he neared the panicked horse.
“Easy now, partner,” he cooed. “That’s right.”
Sides heaving and nostrils flaring, the big paint stared at Gabe. Perhaps his imagination was working overtime, but he swore the horse understood he was trying to help.
He continued talking to the paint as he pondered how best to fasten the rope. Simply around the head wouldn’t provide enough leverage. They’d strangle the horse before they rescued him. No way could he feed the rope beneath the horse’s chest and behind his front legs, which would be ideal. He’d likely injure his hand in the process.
Gabe decided to run the rope through the girth on either side of the saddle. A tricky operation. One miscalculation and the results could end in disaster. For the horse and Gabe.
“Here goes nothing.”
Thankfully, the horse remained quiet while Gabe circled him and attached the rope to both sides, looping it behind the saddle horn for added resistance. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. By the time he finished, sweat had gathered on his forehead and soaked the inside of his shirt.
He removed his cowboy hat and combed his fingers through his damp hair.
“You holding up?” he asked Reese.
“I’m fine.”
Right. She looked ready to drop. He gave her credit, though. She wasn’t a quitter.
“Then, let’s get this horse out.”
He patted Bonita’s rump. She’d done well so far. What came next would be the real test.
Glancing over his shoulder, he inspected his handiwork one last time. The big paint cooperated by not moving. That, or he was past the point of fighting.
Gabe stood at Bonita’s head and gripped the side of her bridle above the bit. The rope stretched taut from both sides of her saddle to both sides of the paint’s.
“Good girl.” He rubbed her soft nose. “You can do it.”
Bonita nuzzled his hands, not the least bit concerned.
He peered over her back at Reese. “You ready?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look it. Her hands shook and her face was alarmingly pale.
“Your job is to keep that horse’s head up. Bonita and I will do the rest. You understand?”
“Got it.”
“Any sign of trouble, you let go. I mean it. Don’t put any of us in danger.”
She nodded.
“All right then. On the count of three. One, two, three.” He clucked to Bonita and yanked on her bridle.
Muscles straining, hide quivering, the mare took one step forward, then a second.
Gabe glanced back at the paint. He’d yet to move, other than stretching his head and neck out as far as they would go.
“Come on, boy. Now or never.”
They could only do so much. It was entirely up to the horse. If he didn’t haul himself out of the sinkhole and onto solid ground, he would die right where he was.
Bonita didn’t quit and, once again, Gabe admired the little mare he’d handpicked from his friend Cara’s herd of rehabilitated wild mustangs.
“He’s doing it!” Reese hollered.
Gabe looked. True enough, the horse had found the will to save itself. With tremendous effort, he dug his front hooves into the ground and, with the aid of the primitive pulley, climbed out of the deep mud.
“Don’t quit on us now.” Gabe wasn’t sure who he was talking to. The horse or Bonita or Reese. Did it really matter?
With a final mighty groan, the horse heaved himself out, landing with a grunt on his belly. Gabe let go of Bonita and rushed to the paint, afraid the unsteady horse would slide back into the hole.
One rope in each hand, he pulled with every ounce of his strength. It wasn’t enough.
“Help me,” he said to Reese.
In a flash, she was there.
“Grab the saddle.”
She did, and by some miracle, they dragged the horse two feet before they gave out. The ground beneath the heavy horse held. He lay there, his back legs suspended over the hole and dripping mud, his breathing coming in great gusts.
“Give him a few minutes,” Gabe said, flexing his cramped and aching fingers. “Then we’ll get him up.”
“Okay.” Reese stood bent at the waist, her hands braced on her knees.
Gabe, too, rested. How long had this taken? Thirty minutes? An hour? He wasn’t sure. Except that, for whatever time it took, he hadn’t once thought of his father’s death.
“My God, Gabe, you did it! You saved him.”
The next instant, Reese slammed into him, her arms circling his neck. He automatically steadied them both by holding on to her.
“Thank you,” she said, clinging to him, her face buried in his coat.
He stared at the top of her head, momentarily stunned. He’d touched Reese just one other time in their entire lives. They’d been in high school, at their senior prom. He’d cradled her while she cried and begged him not to tell anyone she was pregnant.
* * *
“YOU SHOULD CALL the vet right away.”
Reese didn’t need Gabe to tell her that. Of course she’d call the vet. The second she and General arrived home. But, seeing as Gabe had rescued her father’s favorite horse, and she was eternally grateful, she bit her tongue.
“I will.”
They’d finally managed to coax General to his feet after a ten-minute respite. The poor gelding was utterly depleted and stood with his head hanging low and his nose to the ground. If it were at all possible to drive a truck and trailer into these rugged hills, she’d do it. Unfortunately, she and General would have to travel by foot.
“Come on.” Gabe grabbed hold of his mare’s reins and mounted with the grace and ease of someone who rode daily. Once seated, he stared at her expectantly.
“What?” she asked.
He patted the mare’s hindquarters. “Climb aboard. Daylight’s wasting.”
Reese blinked in astonishment. “You’re suggesting we ride double?”
“Your horse won’t make it thirty feet carrying you.”
Did he believe her a nitwit? Just because she’d been away from Mustang Valley for a long time didn’t mean she’d forgotten everything she’d ever learned.
“I was planning on walking.” She picked her hat off the ground from where it had fallen. “At least to the road.”
“I’ll take you,” he said, as if it were already decided. He removed his left foot from the stirrup.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re tuckered out. And it’ll be dark soon.”
He was right. The sun had started dropping, along with the temperature. General was wet and starting to shake. If she didn’t get him moving soon, he’d catch a chill. Her, too.
“Fine.”
He raised one brow as if to remark, “Funny way of saying thanks.”
Gabe had always been able to convey enormous emotion using very few words. It was a quality she’d found intriguing from the time they were young. That, and his good looks. His Hispanic heritage, courtesy of his mother, blended beautifully with his Dempsey genes. Dark hair, silver-gray eyes, a strong jaw, tanned complexion and a wide mouth created for kissing.
Not that she had kissed him. Or even thought about it. Okay, not much.
She and Gabe had grown up neighbors, but also rivals, thanks to their fathers’ lifelong feud. They’d steered as clear of each other as much as humanly possible in a small community the size of Mustang Valley.
Six months ago, she’d returned after a twelve-year absence. This afternoon was the first time she and Gabe had spoken since the night of their senior prom.
She should, she supposed, thank him for something else besides saving General. He’d kept his promise and said nothing about her pregnancy. If he had, she would have heard. Secrets like hers were too titillating to resist repeating.
Holding General’s reins with her right hand, she clasped Gabe’s outstretched one with her left. Then, putting her foot in the empty stirrup, she let him assist her onto the mare’s back.
“Can she carry the two of us?” she asked, settling in behind Gabe. The mare was on the small side and worn out after her recent efforts.
“She’ll manage.”
The next moment, they were off. At the mare’s first hop over a hole, Reese grabbed Gabe’s middle rather than be dumped on the ground. She swore he chuckled beneath his breath. Or it might have been the wind.
“How’s he doing?” Gabe asked after a few minutes.
Reese looked behind her at General, and her heart hurt. “He’s limping on his right rear leg.”
“Will he make it to the road?”
“I think so.” Then she could call the house and have someone from the Small Change meet them with a truck and trailer.
If her phone had worked when General fell into the sinkhole, she wouldn’t have had to rely on Gabe’s help. She’d tried repeatedly to get a signal, but there had been none. She was lucky he’d ridden by. And that it was today rather than tomorrow, after the reading of August Dempsey’s will.
“Thank you again,” she said. “I owe you.”
He simply grunted.
“For a lot more than saving General,” she added, wondering if he understood her meaning.
“I’m a man of my word.”
Okay, he did understand. “For which I’m very appreciative.”
She waited for him to ask her what had happened to the baby. Where she’d gone when she left Mustang Valley. What she’d done. If she’d ever told Blake Nolan, the baby’s father.
Gabe remained stoically silent, and she sensed an unmistakable tension coursing through him.
The next mile passed slowly. Every few minutes, Reese checked on General. His limp was getting worse, and she gritted her teeth. How far to the road? She craned her neck in order to look ahead over Gabe’s broad shoulder.
In hindsight, she should have waited to take General out until later in the week when she was less busy. But she hated seeing the stout gelding cooped up day after day in his stall, barely ridden.
It wasn’t her father’s fault. He would exercise General every day if his health permitted. This morning, simply crawling out of bed to attend August Dempsey’s funeral had been a challenge. Riding was out of the question.
“It was nice of you to come today,” Gabe said, rousing her from her thoughts.
“My father may not have gotten along with yours, but he respected him greatly. We wouldn’t have missed the funeral.”
Gabe’s response was another noncommittal grunt.
The mare stumbled on the steep incline, causing Reese to grip Gabe’s waist tighter.
“Maybe I should get off and walk,” she suggested, acutely aware of his broad, strong back through the thick fabric of his coat.
“We’re almost to the road.”
It was the longest fifteen minutes ever. Immediately upon dismounting, she examined General. The poor horse was on the verge of collapsing.
She got on her cell phone, and breathed a sigh of relief when her call connected.
“Hi, Dad.” She summarized the situation, including how Gabe had rescued her and General.
“I’m glad you’re all right and that Gabe was riding by.” Relief filled his voice. “He’s a good man.”
Reese knew her father’s praise was sincere. The rivalry between him and August Dempsey was strictly over business and had nothing to do with character. In another lifetime, under different circumstances, the two might have been friends.
“I’ll tell him myself when I see him,” her father continued.
“No, Dad. You’ve had a long day.” She turned away from Gabe, who still sat astride the mare, and said in a low voice, “You need your rest. Send Enrico.”
“He’ll drive, but I’m damn well going with him.”
It was the best she could hope for. Her father was a stubborn old fool when he set his mind to something. Like not telling anyone about his Parkinson’s. How long could he realistically expect to keep hiding his disease? He was starting to show symptoms, and people were becoming suspicious. Like Enrico, who’d worked for the McGraws since before Reese had left.
“Fine.” What choice did she have, short of telling Enrico? And her father would never forgive her for that. He was a proud man. “See you when you get here.”
“Be careful, honey.”
Reese glanced at Gabe, then chided herself. Of course, her father was referring to General. She had nothing to worry about from Gabe, who was scrutinizing her every move with those compelling eyes of his.
She said goodbye and disconnected the call. Returning to the weary horse, she gave his neck a loving stroke.
Eying Gabe, she said, “You’d better hurry if you want to get home before dark.”
“I’ll wait until your ride gets here.”
“It could be a while.”
Truthfully, she had no idea how long her father and Enrico would be. She was simply providing Gabe with an excuse to leave.
“I have time.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “The house is filled with food.”
She could well imagine. As expected, friends and family had stopped by, dropping off casseroles, covered dishes and baked goods as they paid their respects. Food and funerals seemed to go together.
“Are you?” Gabe asked. “Hungry?”
“A little.” Between the service this morning, caring for her father and worrying about tomorrow’s reading of the will, she’d missed lunch.
Riding General hadn’t been solely to exercise the barn-bound horse. She’d needed a mental vacation in the worst way.
“Mostly I’m cold,” she added.
Gabe dismounted, unbuckled the saddlebag and reached inside. A moment later, he produced a yellow rain poncho and a small, rectangular object she couldn’t quite make out.
“Here.” He approached her, his stride confident and, she had to admit, sexy.
A small thrill wound through her. She blamed the stressful events of the day. It couldn’t possibly be attraction. To Gabe Dempsey? No way.
“Here.” He shook out the rain poncho, removed her hat and placed the poncho over her head.
“I don’t need—”
“Shut up, Reese.” He replaced her hat and fastened the top snap on the poncho, the one beneath her chin. “It’ll help keep you warm.”
The thrill turned into a flush as his fingers brushed her exposed skin. Who needed a poncho when Gabe’s proximity was enough to warm her from the inside?
“O...kay.” Please don’t let him notice the effect he was having on her.
“Here.” He lifted her hand and pressed the object he’d taken from the saddlebag into it. “Enjoy.”
She stared at the energy bar. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because...”
“You’re as stubborn as your father.” A smile touched his lips.
She thought it might be his first one in days or even weeks. Nothing could be worse than losing a loved one.
“I’ll eat this,” she said, “but only if we share.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss McGraw.”
He hadn’t seen anything yet. Just wait until they butted heads over his father’s estate.
Ripping open the wrapper, she removed the energy bar and broke it in half.
He accepted the piece, his fingers brushing hers. Was it intentional? She wouldn’t put it past him. Gabe had always been a ladies’ man, starting in high school. She was surprised he’d reached the age of thirty without some woman snapping him up.
Then again, no one had snapped up Reese, either, though she’d come close once. Perhaps Gabe was like her, married to his work.
They didn’t speak while they ate. Reese stared up the road. No sign of her father yet. When she was done with her half of the energy bar, she checked again on General, then returned to Gabe, pulling the poncho closer around her.
“Still cold?” Gabe asked.
“A little.”
“We could huddle for warmth.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”
His smile returned. “I don’t bite, Reese.”
Sweet heaven, he was gorgeous. “I’m fine.” She was not letting Gabe touch her, much less hold her.
Headlights appeared in the distance, about a mile up the road. Reese released a long sigh. As assistant manager of Southern Arizona Bank, it was her job, her duty, to conduct herself professionally and impersonally with the Dempsey family. Huddling with Gabe, even for warmth in extreme weather conditions, wasn’t either of those things.
She waved as the truck and trailer neared. “Dad’s here. You don’t have to stay.”
“All right,” he said, his tone unreadable, and mounted the mare.
“What about your poncho?”
“Keep it.” Gabe tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “See you around.”
She watched him ride off into the darkness toward Dos Estrellas, barely noticing the truck rumble to a stop behind her.
He’d do more than see her around. Thanks to August Dempsey revising his will six months ago, Reese was about to become a fixture in the Dempsey brothers’ lives, and there was nothing they could do to change it.
Chapter Two (#ulink_6fab20e7-553e-554a-b05a-63b0deaac27f)
“If you’ll all please have a seat, we can get started.” Hector Fuentes made a sweeping gesture that included everyone in the spacious living room. He lowered himself onto the cowhide upholstered recliner where Gabe’s father had once dozed every afternoon while waiting for Raquel Salazar, Gabe’s mother, to finish putting supper on the table.
Better it was the family attorney occupying his father’s favorite chair than one of his half brothers, Gabe thought sourly.
Brothers. The word still sounded strange to him. Two full days in their company had made no difference. Neither had attending the funeral together yesterday or sharing coffee with them before spreading their father’s ashes in the flower garden this morning. Gabe didn’t know these men.
It was his mother’s idea they take the guest suite in the house rather than stay at the Wild Horse Bed and Breakfast in town. “They’re family,” she’d told Gabe. “Your father would have wanted it. And we have plenty of room.”
Gabe had seethed in silence instead of arguing. Did his mother have to be so nice to them? If they inherited the ranch, she’d be thrown out of her home.
After casting tentative glances at each other, the brothers in question sat in matching wingback chairs—which happened to be directly opposite Gabe, his mother and Cara Alvarez. Cara was the daughter of Raquel’s childhood friend Leena and had lived with Gabe’s family the past two years.
Consciously or subconsciously, Gabe, Raquel and Cara had made a united front on the couch.
No one else had been invited to the reading of the will, giving Gabe reason to believe those present were the only ones named as beneficiaries.
He swallowed, but the knot of pain residing above his heart didn’t loosen. Those two men shouldn’t be here. His father had promised Gabe the ranch. Many times over.
What had changed August Dempsey’s mind at the eleventh hour? Was the cancer to blame? Had all the medications and treatments ravaged his body and mind? Or had he lied to Gabe and intended to give the ranch to his legitimate sons all along, leaving Gabe with nothing?
Using his briefcase as a lap desk, Hector Fuentes cleared his throat and tapped a thin stack of papers into a perfect rectangle. “If it’s all right with everyone, I’ll skip the standard legalese and get right to the bequests. I’ve brought copies of the entire will for everyone and will distribute them later to those who want one.”
Gabe wanted a copy. He’d bet his brothers would, too.
Hector smiled at Cara before beginning. “To Cara Alvarez, who has been like a daughter to Raquel and myself, I grant exclusive use of five hundred acres of Dos Estrellas pasture land, to include parcels six, seven and eight, for her mustang sanctuary.”
Cara’s hand flew to her mouth, and she inhaled sharply. The sanctuary and its horses meant a great deal to her. For his father to include her in his will showed how much he’d considered her to be part of the family.
His mother bit back a sob and placed an arm around Cara’s shoulders.
“Cara is to have use of the parcels for as long as she wants,” Hector continued, “or for as long as Dos Estrellas remains in the family.”
Remains in the family. The words gave Gabe hope. His father wouldn’t have allowed Cara exclusive use of nearly one-sixth of the ranch and not bequeath Gabe the entirety of it. Nothing else made sense.
Hector continued, outlining the specifics. “Do you have any questions?” he asked Cara when he was done.
She shook her head, tears filling her eyes.
“Raquel, the love of my life, and Cara both,” Hector said, “will continue to reside at Dos Estrellas and occupy the ranch house for as long as they choose or for as long as the ranch remains in the family.”
Again, Cara inhaled sharply and his mother softly sobbed. Gabe, on the other hand, began to worry. What was with the wording, as long as the ranch remains in the family? Twice his father had used it. There must be some significance.
“Any questions?” Hector repeated when he’d finished with the specifics.
“No,” Gabe’s mother and Cara replied simultaneously.
Hector then listed smaller bequests. Gabe’s mother was to receive ownership of August’s favorite dog. She, along with Gabe and a close cousin, were to get his jewelry, personal items and cherished mementos.
Gabe studied his brothers’ faces during the reading. He wouldn’t recognize either of them as being related to him or their father. Other than the fact they all three stood over six feet tall, there were no noticeable physical similarities. With their blond hair and blue eyes, Josh, the oldest brother, and Cole must resemble their mother.
Neither did they look like the boys he remembered from his childhood. Gabe had been in first grade, Josh second and Cole in kindergarten when an older child on the playground had pointed to the brothers and told Gabe in a taunting voice that they were his father’s real sons. The boy had then called Gabe’s mother a name he hadn’t understood at the time, but instinctively knew was the worst of insults.
Angry and hurt and experiencing feelings he couldn’t explain, much less process, Gabe had passed the rest of the day in a blur. Arriving home after school, he’d gone straight from the bus to his mother and told her about what the boy had said, omitting the bad name.
She’d hugged him, smoothed his hair and insisted he forget about it. Gabe might have, except the same thing happened two days later. Instead of retaliating against the boy, Gabe went after Josh, who was both older and bigger than him. The attack, poorly executed, nonetheless cost him three days’ suspension from school for fighting.
His mother had been furious with him. She’d also been saddened. It was the first Gabe had learned that his father, who visited once or twice a week in the evenings, had a wife and children living on a ranch outside of Mustang Valley. It took Gabe several years to fully understand his family’s unusual dynamics, long after he and his mother had moved to Dos Estrellas.
Did Josh remember the school tussle? Did he know it was Gabe who had hit him and what had made him so angry? Probably not. At least, his face gave no indication.
“Last, is my beloved Dos Estrellas Ranch, which has been in the Dempsey family for three generations.”
Hector’s voice jarred Gabe from his thoughts. Every muscle in his body tightened. He willed himself not to look at his brothers, but at Hector instead. They would not see how important this moment was to him, or his devastation if the rumors turned out to be true and Gabe lost the ranch.
Beside him, his mother shifted and murmured under her breath. Cara grabbed his hand and squeezed.
“I leave the ranch equally to my three sons, Josh, Cole and Gabe.”
Pain sliced through Gabe, leaving him numb. He hadn’t inherited the ranch. Worse, his father had named him third after his two legitimate sons, whom he hadn’t seen in twenty-four years.
Betrayal. It was the emotion Gabe hadn’t been able to define when he was six. It was also the emotion that gripped him now, fresh as the day on the playground with Josh.
“See, I told you, mijo,” his mother said in a whisper, “your father did not forget you.”
Not forget him? He might as well have. Gabe was supposed to share ownership of Dos Estrellas? With them?
“He promised to leave the ranch to Gabe,” Cara hissed.
“Hush,” his mother ordered.
“It’s not fair.” Cara’s voice rose, loud enough to draw the stares of everyone in the room. “Gabe’s worked the land. He knows the cattle business and how the ranch is run.” She gestured to Josh and Cole. “They don’t have the first clue. They’re rodeo competitors, for crying out loud.”
“We can hear you,” Josh said.
Cole grunted and stared angrily out the large bay window.
Gabe fumed. What was the guy’s problem? He had nothing to be angry about.
“If we could please continue,” Hector scolded in an attempt to bring the reading back under control.
Cara didn’t apologize. She didn’t say anything, merely folded her arms across her middle.
With a warning nod in her direction, Hector carried on, reading August’s words. “My good attorney has advised me to cover the many details on a separate page. I’ve done that, merely to satisfy him, mind you.” A hint of amusement flashed in Hector’s eyes. “But, in a nutshell, Dos Estrellas can’t be sold in its entirety unless all three of my sons are in agreement. And while individual shares can be sold, it is my fervent wish my beloved ranch remains in the family for many future generations, and the grandchildren I didn’t live long enough to see will grow up here, fine, strong and healthy like my own boys.”
Gabe almost choked. Was his father serious? The two men sitting across from him hadn’t grown up at the ranch. As children they’d moved six hundred miles away to Northern California and never once come back, ignoring the requests to visit their dying father and say goodbye.
He half listened to the rest of the reading. Violet Hathaway, the ranch’s livestock manager, along with the Dempsey housekeeper of twenty-plus years, were to retain their jobs. Lastly, there was a mention of selling shares to one another and how the profits were to be distributed.
Profits, right. What a joke. There weren’t any, and hadn’t been since August had become ill.
“Questions?” Hector asked, sounding a lot like a parrot.
Gabe shook his head. He would read his copy of the will later, when he was less agitated and better able to focus, though it wouldn’t make much difference.
The empty hole inside him ached. He’d admired, respected and loved his father with boundless devotion. Now he feared he might have been wrong. Whether his father had realized it or not, he’d forced Gabe into partnership with his brothers and, by the looks on their faces, they were as unhappy about the outcome as Gabe.
“Are we done?” Cole asked, his tone sharp.
“Not quite.” Hector set his briefcase on the floor by his feet. “There’s the matter of the trustee.”
“Trustee?” Gabe’s mother leaned forward. “What is a trustee?”
“The Dos Estrellas and August’s other property are actually held in the trust he established. As with all trusts, a person or entity is designated to oversee the trust and carry out the terms of the will according to the decedent’s wishes. Typically, the trustee makes the distributions, and, in this case, will oversee the management of the estate per August’s instructions.”
“Dad hired a manager?” Gabe couldn’t believe his ears.
“Not exactly. You and your brothers will run the ranch. But’s the trustee’s job to make sure you’re running it according to the terms of your father’s will. For instance, your mother and Cara continue to live here as long as they choose and Cara’s mustang sanctuary is protected.”
That sounded reasonable, Gabe supposed.
“You should know your father gave the trustee full financial powers until the ranch operates in the black for at least one full year, and all his medical bills are paid off. The trustee’s duties will end only then or if the ranch is sold.”
“I don’t understand,” Josh said.
“Essentially, while you and your brothers run the ranch, the trustee will be pulling the purse strings.”
If Gabe wasn’t already in a state of shock, this latest bombshell would have knocked him to his knees. His father had preferred for someone outside the family handle the ranch’s finances over his son? His sons?
“Who’s the trustee?” Gabe asked.
Hector waited a beat before responding. “The Southern Arizona Bank.”
Mustang Valley’s sole financial institution. Gabe was familiar with them, like everyone else in the community.
“Why?”
“A trustee is supposed to abide by the terms of the will.” Hector shrugged. “Unfortunately, they don’t always. It can happen when family members are put in charge. Emotions run high. As a result, some individuals choose an entity, such as a bank, or an attorney, to act as trustee. They tend to adhere more strictly to the terms of the will and keep emotions out of it.”
Perhaps Gabe’s father had the foresight to realize forcing his three sons into an unwanted partnership would guarantee high-running emotions.
The front doorbell rang, startling several of the room’s occupants. Not Hector. He made his way to the large, ornately carved wooden door.
“Who could that be?” Gabe’s mother moved as if to rise. “I specifically requested no visitors this afternoon.”
“It’s all right,” Hector said. “I arranged for the representative from the bank to be here today in order to meet you all and put your fears to rest.”
He opened the heavy door. It swung wide, revealing a feminine silhouette cast in dark shadows from the sun’s slanting rays.
“Am I early?” the woman asked.
“Not at all, come in,” he said. “We’re ready for you.”
Gabe blinked as the representative stepped across the threshold, convinced he was seeing things. It couldn’t be. This had to be a mistake. Or someone’s idea of a sick joke. He wasn’t sure if he should shout in protest or laugh out loud.
Hector took the young, professionally dressed woman by the arm and led her to the center of the room as if she were on display.
“For those of you who haven’t met her before, this is Reese McGraw, assistant manager at Southern Arizona Bank and the trustee of August Dempsey’s estate.”
* * *
“THANK YOU.” REESE accepted the cup of coffee Raquel Salazar offered and smiled in appreciation. Other than the attorney Hector Fuentes, Gabe’s mother was the only one to show Reese any friendliness so far.
It was to be expected. Even under normal circumstances, no one in the Dempsey or Salazar families would be pleased to welcome her, the daughter of Theo McGraw. To learn she was the employee at Southern Arizona Bank in charge of overseeing August Dempsey’s estate, well, it must be a shock.
Gabe’s features hardened each time he glanced at her, which was often. If he was trying to scare her off, it wouldn’t work. Reese was here to stay.
It was, she mused, a far cry from the way he’d looked at her yesterday while waiting for her father and Enrico to arrive with the truck and trailer. When he’d buttoned her into the rain poncho, she swore the heat of attraction had flared in his eyes. Not to mention his touch lingered far longer than necessary.
The poncho had kept her warm, all right. That, and the effects of his proximity.
Reese silently scolded herself, alarmed by the direction of her thoughts. She’d known Gabe most of her life, but not once entertained any romantic notions about him. What had changed since their last conversation twelve years ago? Was it her or him?
“You are welcome,” Raquel said in her lilting Hispanic accent. “How is your father doing? He looked a little pale yesterday at the service.”
Reese gave a small start. Raquel had noticed her father’s appearance? Surely, she’d had much, much more on her mind at the funeral than Theo McGraw. Reese swallowed. Soon, her father’s symptoms would become increasingly apparent. Hiding his Parkinson’s would be impossible.
Good. His constant care, and the tremendous burden that came with it, were taking a toll on her, physically and emotionally. He needed help managing his symptoms beyond her limited abilities. Yet he refused to hire an experienced health care professional, convinced people in Mustang Valley would view him differently. Think less of him.
She wished he could see how wrong he was. The same people he feared would pity him had rallied to comfort the family and offer support during August Dempsey’s long illness. They would do the same for her father.
She blamed the damnable McGraw pride, which her father possessed in abundance. She, too, perhaps. Hadn’t she left town shortly after realizing she was pregnant with Blake Nolan’s baby, convinced people would talk behind her and her father’s backs?
“He was tired,” she explained to Raquel. “His arthritis has been keeping him awake at night.”
Her hostess sighed expansively. “I understand. I have my own complaints. Give him my regards, will you?”
“Of course.”
She patted Reese’s arm before gliding away.
Reese admired Gabe’s mother. While the sadness in Raquel’s eyes showed evidence of her grief and sorrow, she remained strong and stalwart. Perhaps, in a way, she was relieved at his passing. August had been in considerable pain at the end, and no one wanted to see their loved one needlessly suffer.
Funny they’d never married. August and his wife divorced twenty-plus years ago. Reese was curious. Reading the entirety of his will hadn’t provided any insight.
Sipping her coffee, she made her way to Cara Alvarez, who, by her estimation, was the one person with the least reason to dislike her. They had once been school friends, after all. Before the feud between August and Reese’s father severed their budding friendship.
“Hey, how you doing?”
Cara glanced up from the spot on the floor she’d been staring at. “All right.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
With her luxurious black hair and striking beauty, Cara might have been related to Raquel and not just the daughter she never had. One prominent difference was their eyes. While Raquel’s sparked with a wide array of emotions, Cara’s alternated between listlessness and despair. They had been that way since the tragic death of her toddler son two years ago.
“I hear you’re doing great things with the mustang sanctuary,” Reese said.
“I don’t know about great.” Cara shifted and resumed staring, this time out the window.
Was she remembering her son’s funeral?
Reese decided her former schoolmate wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “If there’s anything you need, feel free to call me or come by the bank.”
“Okay.”
She touched Cara’s arm before crossing the room. Feeling a prickling on the back of her neck, she turned and found Gabe staring at her from a far corner of the room. He stood by himself. No surprise, anger radiated off him in waves.
Reese squared her shoulders, refusing to wilt beneath the visual assault. She was at the ranch in an official capacity. Gabe and his family may not like the fact she was the trustee, but there was nothing they could do about it. August Dempsey’s last wishes would be honored.
Lifting her coffee cup in acknowledgment, she nodded at Gabe. He responded with raised brows and a look of surprise. How about that? She’d bested him. Surely it was a first.
Pleased with herself, she continued her casual stroll of the room. Hector was currently immersed in conversation with Raquel. From what Reese could discern, he was answering the questions she’d have gladly done if asked.
She’d certainly chosen a rough road to travel, though she wouldn’t have refused the assignment. Losing her credibility at the bank, and possibly her position, weren’t options. She needed a job with decent income and one that enabled her to be close to her father. Assistant manager of Southern Arizona Bank fit the bill perfectly.
Besides, she liked her job. And, if she said so herself, she was good at it.
Finishing her coffee, she started for the kitchen, planning to dispose of her cup in the sink. At the large archway separating the dining room from the kitchen, she paused. The strains of what was clearly a private conversation reached her ears from the other side of the archway and around the corner. It was between Josh Dempsey and his brother Cole.
“What am I going to do with one-third of the ranch?” Cole demanded irritably. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything that belonged to him.”
“Let’s get our copy of the will and read through it,” Josh suggested. “The terms may not be ironclad.”
“You heard what the attorney said.”
Cole had understood correctly. The will was ironclad. August had been thorough, perhaps anticipating a conflict.
“Maybe we can contest it.”
“And where are we going to find the money for that?” Cole scoffed. “Getting custody of your kids drained your bank account.”
Reese recalled reading the background information Hector had provided on the Dempsey brothers. According to the report, Josh was locked in a bitter legal battle with his ex-wife over custody of their two young children.
“Take it easy, Cole. My financial problems aren’t what’s making you mad.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to be here, and I’m sorry we came.”
“Give it another day or two. We’ll figure out a way to get your money.”
“Our money, you mean. Don’t forget, brother, you want your share as badly as I want mine. Attorneys aren’t cheap.”
Reese retreated, concerned by what she’d heard. Growing up in Mustang Valley, she knew about August’s first family and that there was no love lost between him and his sons. But he must have wanted to make amends. Why else would he have modified his will six months ago? Obviously, his two sons didn’t appreciate the gesture.
Should she tell Gabe? Was it her place? No, probably not. But nothing stopped her from dropping a hint or two about his brothers’ intentions.
He hadn’t left the corner. Seeing his hard expression, Reese had second thoughts. Perhaps she should speak to Hector instead. Though what could he do? The same as her, alert Gabe, who’d likely be more receptive to the family attorney than her.
She wavered, still debating and well aware she was drawing attention to herself. A moment later, she headed straight for Gabe.
He didn’t so much as blink at her approach. The guy had nerves of steel.
“I wanted to thank you again for helping me yesterday,” she said.
“How’s the horse?”
“Fine. A bit sore, but otherwise unharmed. The vet prescribed pain relievers, an anti-inflammatory and a week’s rest.” She mentioned the vet’s visit strictly to let Gabe know she wasn’t lax when it came to the well-being of the McGraw horses.
“You were lucky.”
“I was.” She hoped he noted the sincerity she was trying to convey. “I can’t imagine what I would have done if you hadn’t come riding by.”
“Gone for help,” he said matter-of-factly.
“And might not have made it back in time to save General.”
“I disagree. You’re a resourceful woman, Reese.”
“How would you know? We’re not exactly friends.”
Except he’d witnessed one of the worst moments in her life and had treated her secret like it was his own, telling no one. Did that give them some sort of bond?
“It shows.” He angled his head in a way managing to be both confident and boyishly charming.
“I’m not that capable.”
“No? You’re the trustee of my father’s estate. If you ask me, that’s pretty resourceful.”
Ah. There they were. The knives. And here she’d assumed they might have a normal conversation. “Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with your father’s decision.”
“Other than you returned to Mustang Valley and took a job at the bank a few weeks before he revised his will.”
She stiffened. “A coincidence.”
“Right.”
“I can count on one hand the number of times I spoke to your father. The last was when he came into the bank and met with Walt, the manager. For the record, I wasn’t in the meeting.”
“Yet you were named as trustee.”
“The bank was. I’m performing the duties because I’m assistant manager.” Not entirely true, but Reese wasn’t ready to reveal any private agreements between August and the bank.
“Does your father know?”
Reese stood straighter. “He doesn’t.”
“But he will soon enough.”
“Gabe, I didn’t strike up a conversation with you to bicker.”
“Then why?”
There it was again, that flash of heat in his eyes. Darn him and darn her susceptibility.
“How well do you know your brothers?”
Her question elicited a sharp laugh.
“Have you had a chance to talk with them these last few days?”
“I’ve had the chance. Not the inclination.” He studied her intently.
Reese resisted his close scrutiny. “I sense an animosity from them.”
“No kidding.” Gabe’s tone rang with sarcasm.
“I’m serious. Josh and Cole appear to be...unhappy with the terms of the will.”
“They aren’t alone.”
“I think Cole is only after money.”
“What are you after?”
This wasn’t going how Reese had hoped. She considered a different approach when Gabe’s glance suddenly cut to the left.
“Quiet,” he murmured and visibly tensed.
Reese peered over her shoulder. Josh and Cole weren’t three feet away. Both wore suspicious expressions. How much, if anything, had they heard?
Gathering her wits, she said, “There you are. I was telling Gabe, the four of us need to schedule a meeting to review the financial records and discuss your father’s plan for the ranch.”
“We were about to suggest the same thing.” Josh looked to his brother. “We have some questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Gabe demanded, his jaw tightening.
Placing herself between the three men, Reese plastered a smile on her face. “How’s tomorrow afternoon at the ranch? Say, two o’clock?”
Chapter Three (#ulink_f382dc93-2f43-5b4d-b03a-226096de9b70)
Gabe watched Reese bid goodbye to his mother and Hector, fetch her coat and purse from the back of a dining room chair and leave by the front door.
A moment later, when no one was looking, he followed her, catching up as she reached her parked car in the driveway.
“Reese.”
She stopped and turned, her car key clutched in her fingers. “Oh, did I forget something?”
“You by chance have a second?”
“Sure.”
She looked anything but sure. A second later, she popped the locks on her Honda sedan. Opening the car door, she deposited her purse on the passenger seat, then waited.
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were the trustee?” he asked.
She crossed her arms over her middle. “My instructions were not to tell anyone before the reading of the will.”
“I helped you rescue your horse.”
“Doesn’t work that way, Gabe.”
He shifted, the chilly November air penetrating his dress shirt. Why hadn’t he grabbed his suit jacket before coming outside?
“Isn’t there a conflict of interest?”
“Rest assured, I’m completely unbiased when it comes to my job, and completely professional.”
“Your father has been after Dos Estrellas for years. Twice he tried to buy it when Dad fell behind on the property taxes. And he made an offer earlier this year. Dad was going through chemo. Nothing like kicking a man when he’s down.”
“What are you implying?”
“Can you be relied on not to use your position to advance your father’s ambitions?”
She pivoted on her high heels. It was a miracle she didn’t lose her balance and face-plant in the driveway. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
Gabe took hold of her elbow. They both stilled. “It’s a fair question.”
“I have never used my job to advance my father’s ambitions or my own. Nor would I. You asking such a thing is insulting.”
“Look at me, Reese.” He waited until did. “I’m protecting my family.”
She sagged, some of the fight going out of her. “You’re angry—about the terms of the will and your brothers inheriting two-thirds of the ranch. You were also taken aback learning I’m the trustee. For those reasons, I’ll pretend you didn’t just question my ethics.”
“Our fathers didn’t get along.”
“I disagree. They actually liked and admired each other greatly. My father has always spoken very highly of yours.”
“They were business rivals. And your father was considerably more successful than mine.”
“Your father had two families to support. I’m an only child, and my mother left when I was eight. It makes a difference.”
Her parents’ divorce was another similarity they shared. While Gabe’s father had taken a mistress, Reese’s mother had abandoned her family, running away with her lover, who was, at the time, the Small Change’s tax accountant.
“And your father came from money,” Gabe said.
“Which gave him all the more reason to admire yours. August Dempsey made something of himself from humble beginnings.”
Gabe didn’t voice what was on his mind, that, in the end, his father had lost much of what he’d built. The family would be paying off his medical bills for years. Which meant Reese would be the trustee of his father’s estate for a long, long time.
“Can we not argue about this?” She glanced down at her arm, which Gabe still held.
He let his hand drop and instantly missed the intimate contact. He’d felt warmth beneath the fabric of her jacket. And soft, supple flesh. It had stirred his senses.
“Does your boss know about the feud between our families?”
“Of course he does.”
“And he doesn’t care?”
“First of all, I’m the one who told Walt. I thought it would be best he hear it from me. Secondly, as I said earlier, I’m required by my position with the bank to be honest and fair. Also, every detail of my work will be scrutinized by the board.” She squared her shoulders. “Should even one small detail come under question, my job could be at stake. I won’t risk it.”
“You don’t need to work. Your father’s well-off.”
Reese inhaled sharply. “You’re hardly an expert on my personal life.”
Gabe could have kicked himself. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“Fine. Apology accepted.” She reached for the open car door. “Now, if you don’t mind.”
“Would I also be out of line if I requested someone else at the bank be appointed as trustee? Surely, you aren’t the only person qualified.”
He expected her to be mad. She fooled him again by dismissing his question with an indifferent shrug. “You can ask. The answer will be no.”
“Why?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Sounds like a convenient excuse.”
“It isn’t.”
Again, she’d barely reacted. Gabe found that interesting. Reese was either incredibly confident or she knew something she wasn’t telling.
Her cell phone chimed from her jacket pocket. Extracting the phone, she glanced at the display and promptly answered with an anxious, “Yes, Enrico.” After a pause, she said, “I’ll be right there,” and disconnected. “I have to go,” she told Gabe.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No.” She fumbled with the phone before returning it to her pocket. “My father fell from the porch steps.”
“Is he hurt?”
“Banged his knee. He may need to see the doctor.”
For a banged knee? Gabe thought Reese might be overreacting. Theo McGraw was tough as nails and wouldn’t be bothered by a little tumble off the porch steps. “Call me if you need anything.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Really? After raking me over the coals, you’re offering to be the good neighbor?”
“I, um...”
He’d started to say he was concerned for her, then changed his mind at the last second. He didn’t give a damn about Reese McGraw.
Except, that wasn’t true. He did feel something for her. Compassion and sympathy, at least. Why else would he have kept her secret all these years?
If not for their fathers’ rivalry, their relationship might have taken a different path. They had been classmates and neighbors. Dating in high school wouldn’t have been far-fetched.
Anything transpiring between them now, however, was out of the question, and Gabe was wise to maintain a safe distance.
The problem was he wanted to take her in his arms, give her a hug and tell her not to worry. Her father was going to be fine.
“I don’t hate you, Reese. And I don’t wish your father ill. If he needs help, or you, call me.”
“Thank you.” She slid onto the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “I’ll see you tomorrow at two.”
Aware he was crossing an invisible line, Gabe covered one of her white-knuckled hands with his. She was obviously worried about her father. “Drive careful. It’s getting dark.”
For a moment, they remained where they were. If Gabe didn’t know better, he’d think a part of her wanted to stay. But that was ridiculous.
Whatever spell they’d fallen under ended, and she started the engine. Gabe watched her depart, thinking he should return to the house. Why, then, didn’t he? At the end of the long road leading from the ranch house to the main road, Reese’s brake lights illuminated. She turned left, in the direction of the Small Change.
He might have spent more time contemplating why her father’s seemingly minor fall prompted her to leave in such a hurry except he was interrupted by the last person he wanted to see. His brother Josh.
Dammit. What did the man want now? The shirt off Gabe’s back?
“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
Gabe ground his teeth together. His brother’s timing was impeccable. Or, perhaps, intentional. He could have spotted Gabe and Reese from the living room window.
“You didn’t.” Gabe pushed past him. Whatever Josh wanted, he wasn’t interested.
“Got a minute?”
Gabe halted and cursed under his breath. “For what?”
They’d hardly spoken these past few days despite living in close quarters. Gabe had no intention of changing the status quo.
“You and her,” Josh hitched his chin in the direction Reese had driven in her car, “are you friends?”
Gabe’s hackles rose. His relationship with Reese was no one’s business. Especially Josh’s.
“We’re neighbors.”
“I know. I lived here once.”
He couldn’t help thinking the reference to Josh residing at the ranch before Gabe came to live there was intentional.
“What I’m asking is, are you close?”
He stared his brother down.
Josh held his own. “It’s a reasonable question. She’s going to control the ranch’s finances. If you and Reese are involved, there could be a conflict of interest.”
Five minutes ago, Gabe had been asking Reese the same question. Now he defended her.
“She’s a professional. She won’t do anything to jeopardize her position at the bank.”
“But you’re friends.”
“I’m not discussing her with you.” Gabe once again started for the house and once again, Josh halted him with his words.
“I don’t like this any better than you.”
“We have nothing in common.”
“Other than our father and this ranch and the fact we have to work together. Or agree to sell.”
That rankled Gabe. “I’m not selling.”
“Think about it before you decide. Dad left us with a lot of bills to pay and little means at our disposal. Selling would get us out of debt and free us to move on.”
“There’s no we as far as I’m concerned. Our father promised me the ranch. Not you and your brother.”
Josh inhaled deeply as if to control his temper. “Cole and I have every right to inherit a share of Dos Estrellas.”
“Because why? We happen to share the same blood?” Gabe snorted in disgust. “You haven’t set foot on this place for twenty-four years.”
“He cheated on my mother.”
Josh had targeted Gabe’s one weak spot, and the blow inflicted the desired damage.
He knew with all his heart his father had loved his mother deeply. That didn’t make it right for him to disregard his marriage vows. Gabe’s mother had raised him to be honorable. It was hard for him to accept the fact his father hadn’t divorced his wife before becoming involved with Gabe’s mother.
He’d asked once when he was twelve. His mother’s face had immediately hardened, and she told him to never, ever bring up the subject again or she’d tan his hide. It was a private matter between her and his father.
In his early twenties, Gabe approached his father and got no further with him. The reason his father gave for not marrying his mother—that Gabe’s maternal grandfather was very traditional and didn’t approve—smacked of an excuse. When Gabe pressed, his father had stormed from the room. Only the love and devotion he felt for both his parents kept him from resenting them.
“We’re done talking.” Gabe strode ahead without looking back.
Good manners dictated he should return to the house and tell Hector goodbye. The attorney had been his father’s closest confidant. But, like yesterday, Gabe needed an outlet to vent his frustration.
It was too late and too dark for a ride in the nearby mountains. Not too late to clean out the tack room, he decided. Nothing beat tossing a few crates and harnesses around to burn off steam. Dress shirt be damned.
“I remember,” Josh called after him. “It was you who punched me in the nose at school. You had a pretty good right hook for a kid.”
Gabe didn’t miss a step, though it was the first thing his brother had said that made him smile.
* * *
REESE OPENED THE jewelry box on her bedroom dresser, lifted out the top tray and removed a tiny framed picture hidden beneath. It was a ritual. Every year on this day, Celia’s birthday, Reese studied the picture of her newborn daughter, let the memories of her birth warm her heart and then placed a phone call.
Today, Reese came home from the bank during her lunch hour in order to call Celia, but also to check on her father. His tumble off the porch yesterday could have been worse. Luckily, he hadn’t fallen far, but he had landed hard and badly bruised his knee. Loss of balance was a common side effect of Parkinson’s. As was stooped posture. Her father looked ten years older than he had mere months ago. She’d also noticed a slight tremor in his right hand and a quiver in his voice. Each new symptom increased her despair.
Feeling the weight of the little silver frame in her hand, Reese stared at Celia’s infant face and was reminded of why she’d excused herself after lunching with her father and retreated to her bedroom. How could she not be thinking of her daughter on this special day? The problem with Parkinson’s was it consumed the thoughts of the person afflicted with it, along with their family members.
While Celia’s parents made no secret of her adoption, they and Celia were the only ones who knew Reese was her birth mother. Shortly after her high school graduation, Reese had moved to Oregon to live with her older cousin Megan on the pretense of taking a year off before college. There, she’d given birth to Celia, who was then adopted by Megan and her husband.
They adored Celia. They also encouraged her to have a relationship with Reese, for which Reese felt grateful and blessed.
Ever since Celia could talk, Reese called her on a prearranged day once a month. Three times over the years, she’d flown to Oregon for a visit. In her closet, Reese kept a small trunk filled with letters from Celia, drawings, cards, photographs and, lately, school papers. Her computer contained numerous picture files organized by age.
Someday, when they were both ready, Celia would come to Mustang Valley for a visit and to meet her grandfather. Reese hoped it was soon, before the Parkinson’s advanced to the point her father couldn’t function or communicate.
“Hi, sweet pea,” Reese said when Celia answered the phone. “Happy eleventh birthday.”
“Reese! You called.”
“Of course.” Reese bit back a sob. Her emotions were getting the best of her today. “It sounds like you have a cold.”
“We were supposed to go out for pizza tonight.” Celia snuffled. “Now we have to wait for the weekend.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I got your present. Thank you. The boots are exactly the ones I wanted.”
They talked for twenty minutes until Reese had to say goodbye. The meeting at Dos Estrellas was scheduled for two, and she wanted to check on her father one last time before leaving.
“I hope you feel better soon,” she said.
“Me, too. But I get to miss school, so that part’s good.”
Reese enjoyed their easy banter. “Send me pictures of the pizza party.”
“I will. Goodbye, Reese.”
“Goodbye, sweet pea.” Reese disconnected before softly saying, “I love you.” She and Celia weren’t quite close enough for her to speak the words. Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day. She refused to push.
In the kitchen, she found her father sitting at the table, having his customary afternoon coffee.
“I thought the doctor said caffeine was bad for you,” she scolded.
“Would you rather I have a whiskey?”
“Dad!”
“I’ve given up everything worthwhile. You’re not taking away my coffee.”
“Fine.” She patted his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. “I won’t tattle on you.”
“Your Aunt Louise sent me an email earlier. She wants to come for a visit at Christmas.”
“Great!” Reese’s mood brightened. She adored her father’s younger sister, who’d been like a second mother to her after her parents divorced. “How long’s she going to stay?”
“I told her no. That we were busy.”
“What!” Reese dropped into the chair across from her father and gaped at him.
“It’s not a good time.”
“You can’t hide your Parkinson’s forever.”
“I’m not ready to tell her.”
“It won’t be Christmas without family visiting.”
“Your Aunt Louise is a busybody. Always thinks she knows what’s best for people.”
“She loves you.”
“She’ll interfere.”
Reese bit her tongue. Her father was the one sick, not her. It was his choice whom he told and when, regardless if she disagreed.
“Off to your meeting at Dos Estrellas?” He was attempting to distract her, and she let him.
“Depending on how long the meeting lasts, I may come straight home and skip going back to the bank.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my brain around you being the trustee of August Dempsey’s estate.”
She’d finally informed her father last night, when she was able to do so. “Strange, I know.”
“August must be having himself one heck of a good laugh up in heaven.”
“He did choose the bank to act as trustee.”
“Probably didn’t realize you’d be the one running the show.”
There was no way for Reese to respond without violating her client’s privacy, so she said nothing.
“Poor man,” her father said. “He must have hated seeing the ranch fall to ruin like it did.”
“Dos Estrellas is hardly in ruins.”
“It’s buried in debt.”
Buried was an exaggeration. Waist-deep, maybe. “I can’t discuss the ranch finances with you.”
“He should have sold it to me when he had the chance.”
Reese shook her head. “And what would you do with Dos Estrellas? Let’s be honest, you’re having enough trouble running the Small Change.”
He grunted in displeasure. “Don’t count me out yet.”
“Never.” She smiled and kissed his head again before retrieving her briefcase and a travel mug of coffee from the counter. “I’ll see you later.”
“Good luck,” he called after her.
Reese passed Enrico on the way to her car, and they exchanged hellos. The ranch foreman was heading inside to give her father a report. The loyal employee had been doing that more and more of late, three or four times a day. And because her father was being regularly checked on, Reese was able to leave the house, confident he’d be all right.
In the indeterminable future, whether her father agreed or not, they would need to hire a caretaker. Reese could anticipate how their conversation would go and was dreading it.
During the ten-minute drive to Dos Estrellas, she mentally prepared for the meeting. This, she realized, was the third day in a row she’d see Gabe. She should get used to it. With her new responsibilities, they would be in frequent contact. The notion gave her a not-so-small shiver of anticipation—which she promptly squashed. Her attraction to Gabe was inappropriate, and even if they were to date, the timing couldn’t be worse. He had a ranch in serious financial trouble to run alongside two brothers he didn’t get along with.
Reese slowed to take the turn into the Dos Estrellas driveway. She parked in the same spot as yesterday, instantly reminded of her and Gabe’s awkward, yet strangely intimate, parting. She’d have sworn he was about to say something revealing and romantic to her. When he didn’t, she blamed her overactive imagination playing tricks on her.
But there was that moment between them on the hilltop when he’d fastened her into the poncho...
Enough, she told herself. This has to stop.
Raquel Salazar answered Reese’s knock on the door, smiling affectionately. “Come in, chiquita.”
Little girl? Reese could hardly call herself that. Raquel, however, was the motherly type who called everyone by an endearment.
“I have the office all set for you.” Raquel indicated a door off the living room. “This way.”
August’s home office was a masculine mixture of functional and comfortable. Situated behind a heavy antique desk was an oversized executive chair. It nearly swallowed Reese when she sat down. Certificates lined one wall. August, it appeared, had been a member of several professional organizations, including the Arizona Cattlemen’s Association.
On the other wall hung family portraits spanning several decades, back to the first Dempsey who’d originally purchased the land and built the ranch. A well-worn leather couch sat beneath the portraits and looked cozy enough to sink into for long hours of reading or listening to the old-fashioned stereo system.
Notably absent was evidence of modern technology. No computer. No TV, flat-screen or otherwise. No smartphone docking station or Bluetooth speaker. In fact, the one phone was an antiquated desktop model with a push-button dial pad, and the clock required a weekly winding to run.
Reese glanced around the room. “Where did August keep the ranch records?”
“In here.” Raquel walked to a black lateral filing cabinet adjacent to the couch and opened the top drawer.
Reese could see rows and rows of hanging file folders with various headings: Payroll, Vehicles, Insurance, Veterinary Care, to name a few. “What about the financial information?”
“Ah.” Raquel pulled out an elongated brown binder, which she placed on the desk in front of Reese. “Do you mean this?”
“Wow.” Reese opened the binder and stared in amazement at the three-to-a-page checks and the thick stack of stubs. “I didn’t know anybody used manual checks anymore.”
“August didn’t trust computers.”
“So I see.” Reese sighed, flipping through the stubs and noting the entries. “What about income? How did he track that?”
Raquel opened a side drawer of the desk. Inside were a half dozen green accounting ledger books stacked one on top of the other.
“Great.” Reese definitely had her work cut out for her. “Prior year tax returns handy?”
Those were in the next drawer down. Reese was relieved to see they’d been prepared by a local CPA.
Thankfully, Hector Fuentes had given her a flash drive with August’s plan for the ranch, including a month-by-month and year-by-year schedule. Reese wasn’t sure what she’d have done with handwritten notes.
“I’ll tell the boys you’re here,” Raquel said and left, her footsteps soundless on the thick, colorful area rug.
Reese removed her laptop from her briefcase and powered it up. She also pulled out a copy of the entire living trust. When, a few minutes later, no one had yet arrived, she began examining the first accounting journal. It was meticulously updated until four months ago. After that, the entries were sketchy, then they stopped altogether.
August had probably gotten too sick to continue, which didn’t bode well for the ranch finances.
Cole entered the office, removing his cowboy hat and running a hand through his windblown blond hair. Not the person Reese expected to see first.
“Hi.” She greeted him in her best assistant bank manager smile. “Have a seat.”
Raquel had brought in three chairs from the dining room and placed them across from the desk. Cole chose the one on the right and, sitting, balanced his hat on his knee.
“Will this take long?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Depends on a number of things.”
“Like?” He couldn’t have a bigger chip on his shoulder if he tried.
“The number of questions you all have. How quickly we get through reviewing the records. What shape they’re in.” Terrible, these past four months. “How cooperative you are.”
He answered by slouching in the chair, crossing his boots at the ankles and his arms over his stomach.
Reese wasn’t impressed or intimidated.
Gabe entered the office next with Josh right behind him. If she didn’t know better, she’d think they arrived together. But that was impossible, right?
“Hey, Reese.” Josh grinned affably before taking the middle chair. “It is okay if I call you Reese?”
“Of course,” she replied, trying not to stare at Gabe like a love-struck teenager.
He’d clearly come from the pastures or barn or wherever it was he’d been working. He smelled of the outdoors and looked ruggedly handsome with his tanned complexion and two-day growth of beard. With a nonchalance both unconscious and incredibly sexy, he sat, rolled down his shirtsleeves and rebuttoned them at the cuffs, but not before Reese caught sight of strong, prominently muscled arms with a light dusting of hair.
She remembered those arms from when they’d held her the night of their senior prom. She’d thought then they were the kind of arms a woman could rely on to take care of her and keep her safe.
“Are we ready to start?” Thankfully, her voice didn’t betray the riot of emotions warring inside her.
Chapter Four (#ulink_96765915-51eb-50e1-9887-746d32724bc8)
Gabe listened as Reese read from a document on her laptop computer. His father’s plan for Dos Estrellas. Given the amount of detail, he’d trusted his legitimate sons no more than he’d trusted Gabe acting alone to make the right decisions for the ranch.
If it were possible for Gabe to move farther away from Josh without being obvious, he would. Why his mother had felt the need to place the chairs within inches of each other, he didn’t know. To promote comradery was his guess. As if sitting close would dissolve years of animosity and resentment.
Admittedly, Gabe’s opinion of Josh had risen the smallest fraction yesterday following his remark about Gabe’s right hook. Cole, well, he continued to annoy Gabe. The guy took attitude to a new level with a temper to match. To be fair, he probably thought the same thing about Gabe. And, no, that didn’t make them brothers or even pals. Simply two people with good reason to be angry at each other.
Struggling to stay focused, he concentrated on Reese. It didn’t help. She was far too distracting.
Today, she wore dress slacks and a tan sweater that, despite being bulky, hinted at the lovely, lush figure beneath. She wore minimal makeup—something Gabe preferred. Her one exception, pink lipstick accentuating a very kissable mouth.
Come to think of it, the other day on the mountain she hadn’t been wearing any lipstick, and Gabe had still thought her mouth was kissable. Was every red-blooded male who came into the bank like him, appreciating her looks?
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/cathy-mcdavid/her-holiday-rancher/) 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.
Cathy McDavid
A COWBOY FOR ALL SEASONSFour generations of Dempseys have struggled to turn the Dos Estrellas ranch into a successful cattle operation. Gabe Dempsey vows to keep the dream alive, even if he has to share ownership with two half-brothers, who are virtual strangers. They are also pressuring him to sell—which will happen over his dead body. Luckily, Reese McGraw is the trustee of his father's estate, and she's on Gabe's side. For now.Reese is happy to support Gabe in his fight to keep the ranch—but is her support a conflict of interest? His brothers seem to think so. Gabe and Reese's growing feelings for each other are a problem, too. But maybe it's one that will be solved by the magic of Christmas!
A COWBOY FOR ALL SEASONS
Four generations of Dempseys have struggled to turn the Dos Estrellas ranch into a successful cattle operation. Gabe Dempsey vows to keep the dream alive, even if he has to share ownership with two half-brothers, who are virtual strangers. They are also pressuring him to sell—which will happen over his dead body. Luckily, Reese McGraw is the trustee of his father’s estate, and she’s on Gabe’s side. For now.
Reese is happy to support Gabe in his fight to keep the ranch—but is her support a conflict of interest? His brothers seem to think so. Gabe and Reese’s growing feelings for each other are a problem, too. But maybe it’s one that will be solved by the magic of Christmas!
“You’re at odds with your brothers. The ranch is in debt. The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“I’m going to kiss you, Reese.”
The sparks ignited a shiver. “You say that like I don’t have a choice.”
“You do. You can tell me no. But I happen to think you’d like me to kiss you, too.”
He was obviously skilled at mind reading. Gabe’s confidence was annoying. It was also very attractive. Reese felt herself falling for him in a way she hadn’t fallen for a man before and, she admitted, was a little scared.
“No,” she said, in an attempt to regain control.
He lowered his head. Their mouths were almost, nearly, and then barely touching. “I don’t believe you.”
“What do you want from me?” she whispered.
“Surrender.”
Dear Reader (#ulink_587d0151-ebb7-5657-b348-82ed638a4867),
Every new book is special to me. The first book of a new series, even more special. Her Holiday Rancher is both a new book and the first book in a brand-new series. Well, not really. I’m happy to be returning to one of my favorite places, the quaint horse community of Mustang Valley.
The first four books centered on the Powell family and their riding stable and horse breeding business. I also introduced Prince, the last remaining wild mustang in the area. With this new series, the mustang sanctuary started by the Powells has grown by two hundred head and is now located at Dos Estrellas Ranch, home to the Dempsey clan and their struggling cattle operation.
To say the least, the Dempsey brothers don’t get along. Separated when they were young, Gabe Dempsey is forced into an unwilling partnership of the ranch with his two estranged brothers following the death of their father. If that weren’t bad enough, the trustee of his late father’s estate is none other than Reese McGraw, daughter of Dos Estrellas’ neighbor and biggest competitor. This makes for complicated and interesting family dynamics, one of my favorite elements to explore in books. Well, and the horses. Gotta love them, too!
I hope you enjoy Her Holiday Rancher and that you find it the perfect holiday read. It’s been a joy for me to return to Mustang Valley. Glad you’re taking the trip with me.
Warmest wishes,
Cathy McDavid
cathymcdavid.com (http://www.cathymcdavid.com)Facebook.com/CathyMcDavid (https://www.facebook.com/cathy.mcdavid)@CathyMcDavid (https://twitter.com/cathymcdavid)
Her Holiday
Rancher
Cathy McDavid
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For the past eighteen years New York Times bestselling author CATHY McDAVID has been juggling a family, a job and writing, and doing pretty well at it, except for the housecleaning part. “Mostly” retired from the corporate business world, she writes full-time from her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains. Her twins have “mostly” left home, returning every now and then to raid her refrigerator. On weekends, she heads to her cabin in the mountains, always taking her laptop with her. You can visit her website at cathymcdavid.com (http://www.cathymcdavid.com).
To the two groups who have made me a better writer, given me guidance and unconditional support, and opened up a whole new world for me: my critique group (twelve years strong, can you believe it?) and Valley of the Sun Romance Writers. You are more than my friends, you are pieces of my heart.
Contents
Cover (#ue3222f48-0d00-5419-8c47-b485648af036)
Back Cover Text (#uce259b0e-d164-56ca-a49b-61907e3bec12)
Introduction (#u565f6874-fc03-54fa-a401-fcda3d472d1c)
Dear Reader (#ulink_1651fb04-eba6-502f-af26-44da7fca2aee)
Title Page (#ua049b710-5cb3-5a28-addd-d340056fbd76)
About the Author (#u2a5d00e0-69cd-5598-929d-3d625988e221)
Dedication (#u4ea9c0ea-5bce-595f-a148-1f4a9cbc9d5c)
Chapter One (#ulink_691c60cc-f607-5f29-b5e4-c982fbbda98a)
Chapter Two (#ulink_967bfb96-04e9-5b28-aab4-a9e0a82e0ca9)
Chapter Three (#ulink_5a883e0f-c166-56c8-a7ac-a0b689f0c243)
Chapter Four (#ulink_104c662d-fd3f-5e9a-b17b-fec58362267d)
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)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_d3ce8b39-5885-5d6f-ade1-a4626e2bcf0a)
What the small brown mare lacked in size, she more than made up for in muscle and determination. Lowering her head, she put all her weight into her forequarters and plowed up the mountainside. With each powerful step, dirt and small rocks exploded from beneath her hooves, tumbling downward like a miniature landslide.
Gabriel Dempsey rode the mare hard to the top of the rise. Once there, they stopped to rest, both of them breathing hard, their legs trembling. Despite her exertion, the mare would keep going if he asked. She wasn’t just young and strong. The blood from generations of wild mustangs ran in her veins, infusing her with a spirit and unbreakable will unmatched by any other breed of horse.
No, it was Gabe who couldn’t go on. He was spent. Utterly and completely exhausted. Not from the trail ride, but from the emotional events of the past four days.
Exactly seventeen months and twenty-three days after the doctor’s initial prognosis, cancer had taken his father’s life.
Today, the family had memorialized him in a service that had brought out half the town of Mustang Valley, along with a hundred other mourners from all over Arizona. Tomorrow Gabe and his family would spread August Dempsey’s ashes in the flower garden behind the house.
His father would spend eternity where he, Gabe’s grandfather and great-grandfather had lived and toiled their entire lives, on the three-thousand-acre Dos Estrellas Ranch.
Shading his eyes against the glaring afternoon sun, Gabe stared at the ranch nestled in the valley below. From this distance, the house, barns and outbuildings appeared deceptively small, like a painting hanging on a wall. Adding to the illusion were horses in the back pastures and sixteen hundred head of cattle dotting the extensive grazing lands beyond the pastures.
Grief suddenly gripped Gabe’s chest like a giant metal vise, colder than the November wind ripping across the rise from the slopes of the nearby McDowell Mountains.
He sat straight in the saddle, refusing to succumb to emotion or show the slightest sign of weakness. Even out here, where there wasn’t another living soul for two miles in any direction. The battle facing him at home promised to be a difficult one. This was only the beginning.
Among all the mourners gathered at the ranch to pay their final respects to one of Mustang Valley’s greatest citizens were two strangers. Gabe’s half brothers. August Dempsey’s legitimate sons. Rumor had it, they’d come to claim their share of the Dos Estrellas Ranch, left to them by the father they barely knew. Gabe would know for sure tomorrow afternoon at the reading of the will.
If they did inherit, he intended to fight them tooth and nail, regardless if he had a legal right to the ranch or not. He was the son who’d worked side by side with their father for over two decades. The son who was proud of his heritage and treasured it. Who loved the ranch with the same fervor and devotion as any Dempsey before him. He hadn’t left as a kid and never returned.
Giving the mare a nudge, Gabe followed the narrow deer trail south as it alternately dipped, climbed and snaked. Not far below him, a line of barbed wire fencing ran parallel to the trail.
The fence separated Dos Estrellas from its nearest neighbor and longtime cattle-ranching rival, the Small Change, though small was a misnomer. The ranch was twice the size of Dos Estrellas and these days, owner Theo McGraw ran close to thirty-five hundred head of fat, sassy cattle.
Cancer was a greedy disease and had taken more than Gabe’s father. Astronomical medical bills continued to pour in daily, many of which weren’t covered by health insurance. With no choice, Gabe and his mother had sold off what they could, depleting Dos Estrellas’s resources. It wasn’t enough, and the wolves continued to prowl outside their door. Gabe and his half brothers might well wind up fighting over a pile of scraps.
The trail abruptly veered west. Gabe and the mare dropped down into the mouth of a ravine thick with creosote, sage and cacti. Last month’s heavy rains had resulted in abundant desert foliage that had survived the recent cold snap and remained a vibrant green.
At the bottom of the ravine, the mare halted. Lifting her head, she smelled the air, her ears pricked forward.
“What do you see, Bonita?”
Gabe had been raised around horses and trusted their instincts, especially those of a mustang born in the wild. Something was amiss.
He sat still and listened, his eyes scanning the uneven horizon. Coyotes and bobcats regularly traveled this ravine, along with the occasional mountain lion. None were an immediate threat. Desert predators usually avoided humans. The mare’s survival instincts, however, were powerful, and she might attempt to flee.
She didn’t, which Gabe found interesting. Whatever lurked in the bush clearly wasn’t a predator. What, then—
A sharp, shrill screech pierced the air followed by a faint cry of distress. Pausing long enough to choose the best course, he set off in the direction of the sounds, taking the steep trail at a brisk trot, the fastest he dare go without endangering himself or Bonita.
At the top of the rise, his heart stopped cold. The entire back half of a horse was submerged in a sinkhole, nearly up to the saddle horn. The horse’s head and front legs stuck out of the narrow opening at a painful and impossible angle, almost as if he were standing up. Covered with mud and wide-eyed with fright, the horse flailed helplessly.
On the ground in front of the horse, beyond the reach of the sinkhole, a woman attempted to free him by jerking on the reins and calling out encouragements. Both woman and horse were clearly done in from the struggle. Without help, the horse would eventually die. Every moment counted.
Gabe dug his boot heels into Bonita’s sides. The mare didn’t hesitate and carried them down the steep slope. More than once she nearly lost her footing, slipping and sliding over the rocky terrain. At the bottom, Gabe tugged hard on the reins, slowing Bonita and bringing her under control.
“Are you okay?” he called to the woman, covering the remaining distance at a lope.
“I need help.” She spared him the briefest of glances, paused for a fraction of a second, then went right back to pulling on the reins.
Gabe’s brain registered two things simultaneously. First, there was no way in hell she was ever going to save that horse by herself. Maybe no one could. Second, he’d seen the woman a mere four hours earlier at the funeral. She’d sat in the rear pew of the crowded church next to her father, Theo McGraw, Gabe’s father’s rival.
“Hang on.” Gabe jumped off Bonita and, leading the mare, approached Reese McGraw. “Got yourself in a fix here.”
“I missed the hole. It was covered with twigs and dead leaves.”
Sinkholes weren’t uncommon in the desert, especially after heavy rains, though they were generally larger. This particular hazard was deceptively small, measuring three and a half feet at its widest point, and easy to miss.
“It happens,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Can you help me get him out?”
“I’ll try.”
She swallowed, and Gabe noticed the dried streaks on her cheeks. Had she been crying or was the cold wind responsible for her tears?
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” She shook her head, and a hank of shoulder-length strawberry blond hair loosened from its clip. As if sensing his gaze, she said, “I lost my hat when I bailed off.”
“We’ll find it later.” The hat didn’t matter. He was simply trying to calm her. She’d need all her strength for the ordeal ahead, along with her concentration.
She continued tugging on the reins, which the confused horse fought, jerking his big head to the side rather than using the added momentum to hoist himself out of the hole.
“Take it easy,” Gabe said.
“I can’t. If I do, he’ll sink deeper.”
“No, he won’t. Trust me.” Gabe put up a restraining hand. “Hold steady, but don’t pull. Not yet. Wait until I tell you to.”
“What are you going to do?” Worry filled her eyes.
Gabe hadn’t noticed their vibrant green color before. Then again, he generally avoided Reese. “Well, if we can’t drag him out, I’ll ride for help.”
Neither of them voiced aloud what they were doubtless thinking; there may not be time for that. Who knew the depth of the hole? One wrong move, and the horse’s own weight could drag him under the mud.
Gabe decided he’d seen enough death for one week. If it was at all humanly possible, he would save this horse.
“Focus on keeping his head up,” he told Reese.
Gabe lined up Bonita next to her. The mare obediently stood quiet. Next, he removed the coil of rope from his saddlebag and fastened one end to a metal ring on the right side of his saddle. Letting out rope a foot at a time, he neared the panicked horse.
“Easy now, partner,” he cooed. “That’s right.”
Sides heaving and nostrils flaring, the big paint stared at Gabe. Perhaps his imagination was working overtime, but he swore the horse understood he was trying to help.
He continued talking to the paint as he pondered how best to fasten the rope. Simply around the head wouldn’t provide enough leverage. They’d strangle the horse before they rescued him. No way could he feed the rope beneath the horse’s chest and behind his front legs, which would be ideal. He’d likely injure his hand in the process.
Gabe decided to run the rope through the girth on either side of the saddle. A tricky operation. One miscalculation and the results could end in disaster. For the horse and Gabe.
“Here goes nothing.”
Thankfully, the horse remained quiet while Gabe circled him and attached the rope to both sides, looping it behind the saddle horn for added resistance. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. By the time he finished, sweat had gathered on his forehead and soaked the inside of his shirt.
He removed his cowboy hat and combed his fingers through his damp hair.
“You holding up?” he asked Reese.
“I’m fine.”
Right. She looked ready to drop. He gave her credit, though. She wasn’t a quitter.
“Then, let’s get this horse out.”
He patted Bonita’s rump. She’d done well so far. What came next would be the real test.
Glancing over his shoulder, he inspected his handiwork one last time. The big paint cooperated by not moving. That, or he was past the point of fighting.
Gabe stood at Bonita’s head and gripped the side of her bridle above the bit. The rope stretched taut from both sides of her saddle to both sides of the paint’s.
“Good girl.” He rubbed her soft nose. “You can do it.”
Bonita nuzzled his hands, not the least bit concerned.
He peered over her back at Reese. “You ready?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look it. Her hands shook and her face was alarmingly pale.
“Your job is to keep that horse’s head up. Bonita and I will do the rest. You understand?”
“Got it.”
“Any sign of trouble, you let go. I mean it. Don’t put any of us in danger.”
She nodded.
“All right then. On the count of three. One, two, three.” He clucked to Bonita and yanked on her bridle.
Muscles straining, hide quivering, the mare took one step forward, then a second.
Gabe glanced back at the paint. He’d yet to move, other than stretching his head and neck out as far as they would go.
“Come on, boy. Now or never.”
They could only do so much. It was entirely up to the horse. If he didn’t haul himself out of the sinkhole and onto solid ground, he would die right where he was.
Bonita didn’t quit and, once again, Gabe admired the little mare he’d handpicked from his friend Cara’s herd of rehabilitated wild mustangs.
“He’s doing it!” Reese hollered.
Gabe looked. True enough, the horse had found the will to save itself. With tremendous effort, he dug his front hooves into the ground and, with the aid of the primitive pulley, climbed out of the deep mud.
“Don’t quit on us now.” Gabe wasn’t sure who he was talking to. The horse or Bonita or Reese. Did it really matter?
With a final mighty groan, the horse heaved himself out, landing with a grunt on his belly. Gabe let go of Bonita and rushed to the paint, afraid the unsteady horse would slide back into the hole.
One rope in each hand, he pulled with every ounce of his strength. It wasn’t enough.
“Help me,” he said to Reese.
In a flash, she was there.
“Grab the saddle.”
She did, and by some miracle, they dragged the horse two feet before they gave out. The ground beneath the heavy horse held. He lay there, his back legs suspended over the hole and dripping mud, his breathing coming in great gusts.
“Give him a few minutes,” Gabe said, flexing his cramped and aching fingers. “Then we’ll get him up.”
“Okay.” Reese stood bent at the waist, her hands braced on her knees.
Gabe, too, rested. How long had this taken? Thirty minutes? An hour? He wasn’t sure. Except that, for whatever time it took, he hadn’t once thought of his father’s death.
“My God, Gabe, you did it! You saved him.”
The next instant, Reese slammed into him, her arms circling his neck. He automatically steadied them both by holding on to her.
“Thank you,” she said, clinging to him, her face buried in his coat.
He stared at the top of her head, momentarily stunned. He’d touched Reese just one other time in their entire lives. They’d been in high school, at their senior prom. He’d cradled her while she cried and begged him not to tell anyone she was pregnant.
* * *
“YOU SHOULD CALL the vet right away.”
Reese didn’t need Gabe to tell her that. Of course she’d call the vet. The second she and General arrived home. But, seeing as Gabe had rescued her father’s favorite horse, and she was eternally grateful, she bit her tongue.
“I will.”
They’d finally managed to coax General to his feet after a ten-minute respite. The poor gelding was utterly depleted and stood with his head hanging low and his nose to the ground. If it were at all possible to drive a truck and trailer into these rugged hills, she’d do it. Unfortunately, she and General would have to travel by foot.
“Come on.” Gabe grabbed hold of his mare’s reins and mounted with the grace and ease of someone who rode daily. Once seated, he stared at her expectantly.
“What?” she asked.
He patted the mare’s hindquarters. “Climb aboard. Daylight’s wasting.”
Reese blinked in astonishment. “You’re suggesting we ride double?”
“Your horse won’t make it thirty feet carrying you.”
Did he believe her a nitwit? Just because she’d been away from Mustang Valley for a long time didn’t mean she’d forgotten everything she’d ever learned.
“I was planning on walking.” She picked her hat off the ground from where it had fallen. “At least to the road.”
“I’ll take you,” he said, as if it were already decided. He removed his left foot from the stirrup.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re tuckered out. And it’ll be dark soon.”
He was right. The sun had started dropping, along with the temperature. General was wet and starting to shake. If she didn’t get him moving soon, he’d catch a chill. Her, too.
“Fine.”
He raised one brow as if to remark, “Funny way of saying thanks.”
Gabe had always been able to convey enormous emotion using very few words. It was a quality she’d found intriguing from the time they were young. That, and his good looks. His Hispanic heritage, courtesy of his mother, blended beautifully with his Dempsey genes. Dark hair, silver-gray eyes, a strong jaw, tanned complexion and a wide mouth created for kissing.
Not that she had kissed him. Or even thought about it. Okay, not much.
She and Gabe had grown up neighbors, but also rivals, thanks to their fathers’ lifelong feud. They’d steered as clear of each other as much as humanly possible in a small community the size of Mustang Valley.
Six months ago, she’d returned after a twelve-year absence. This afternoon was the first time she and Gabe had spoken since the night of their senior prom.
She should, she supposed, thank him for something else besides saving General. He’d kept his promise and said nothing about her pregnancy. If he had, she would have heard. Secrets like hers were too titillating to resist repeating.
Holding General’s reins with her right hand, she clasped Gabe’s outstretched one with her left. Then, putting her foot in the empty stirrup, she let him assist her onto the mare’s back.
“Can she carry the two of us?” she asked, settling in behind Gabe. The mare was on the small side and worn out after her recent efforts.
“She’ll manage.”
The next moment, they were off. At the mare’s first hop over a hole, Reese grabbed Gabe’s middle rather than be dumped on the ground. She swore he chuckled beneath his breath. Or it might have been the wind.
“How’s he doing?” Gabe asked after a few minutes.
Reese looked behind her at General, and her heart hurt. “He’s limping on his right rear leg.”
“Will he make it to the road?”
“I think so.” Then she could call the house and have someone from the Small Change meet them with a truck and trailer.
If her phone had worked when General fell into the sinkhole, she wouldn’t have had to rely on Gabe’s help. She’d tried repeatedly to get a signal, but there had been none. She was lucky he’d ridden by. And that it was today rather than tomorrow, after the reading of August Dempsey’s will.
“Thank you again,” she said. “I owe you.”
He simply grunted.
“For a lot more than saving General,” she added, wondering if he understood her meaning.
“I’m a man of my word.”
Okay, he did understand. “For which I’m very appreciative.”
She waited for him to ask her what had happened to the baby. Where she’d gone when she left Mustang Valley. What she’d done. If she’d ever told Blake Nolan, the baby’s father.
Gabe remained stoically silent, and she sensed an unmistakable tension coursing through him.
The next mile passed slowly. Every few minutes, Reese checked on General. His limp was getting worse, and she gritted her teeth. How far to the road? She craned her neck in order to look ahead over Gabe’s broad shoulder.
In hindsight, she should have waited to take General out until later in the week when she was less busy. But she hated seeing the stout gelding cooped up day after day in his stall, barely ridden.
It wasn’t her father’s fault. He would exercise General every day if his health permitted. This morning, simply crawling out of bed to attend August Dempsey’s funeral had been a challenge. Riding was out of the question.
“It was nice of you to come today,” Gabe said, rousing her from her thoughts.
“My father may not have gotten along with yours, but he respected him greatly. We wouldn’t have missed the funeral.”
Gabe’s response was another noncommittal grunt.
The mare stumbled on the steep incline, causing Reese to grip Gabe’s waist tighter.
“Maybe I should get off and walk,” she suggested, acutely aware of his broad, strong back through the thick fabric of his coat.
“We’re almost to the road.”
It was the longest fifteen minutes ever. Immediately upon dismounting, she examined General. The poor horse was on the verge of collapsing.
She got on her cell phone, and breathed a sigh of relief when her call connected.
“Hi, Dad.” She summarized the situation, including how Gabe had rescued her and General.
“I’m glad you’re all right and that Gabe was riding by.” Relief filled his voice. “He’s a good man.”
Reese knew her father’s praise was sincere. The rivalry between him and August Dempsey was strictly over business and had nothing to do with character. In another lifetime, under different circumstances, the two might have been friends.
“I’ll tell him myself when I see him,” her father continued.
“No, Dad. You’ve had a long day.” She turned away from Gabe, who still sat astride the mare, and said in a low voice, “You need your rest. Send Enrico.”
“He’ll drive, but I’m damn well going with him.”
It was the best she could hope for. Her father was a stubborn old fool when he set his mind to something. Like not telling anyone about his Parkinson’s. How long could he realistically expect to keep hiding his disease? He was starting to show symptoms, and people were becoming suspicious. Like Enrico, who’d worked for the McGraws since before Reese had left.
“Fine.” What choice did she have, short of telling Enrico? And her father would never forgive her for that. He was a proud man. “See you when you get here.”
“Be careful, honey.”
Reese glanced at Gabe, then chided herself. Of course, her father was referring to General. She had nothing to worry about from Gabe, who was scrutinizing her every move with those compelling eyes of his.
She said goodbye and disconnected the call. Returning to the weary horse, she gave his neck a loving stroke.
Eying Gabe, she said, “You’d better hurry if you want to get home before dark.”
“I’ll wait until your ride gets here.”
“It could be a while.”
Truthfully, she had no idea how long her father and Enrico would be. She was simply providing Gabe with an excuse to leave.
“I have time.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “The house is filled with food.”
She could well imagine. As expected, friends and family had stopped by, dropping off casseroles, covered dishes and baked goods as they paid their respects. Food and funerals seemed to go together.
“Are you?” Gabe asked. “Hungry?”
“A little.” Between the service this morning, caring for her father and worrying about tomorrow’s reading of the will, she’d missed lunch.
Riding General hadn’t been solely to exercise the barn-bound horse. She’d needed a mental vacation in the worst way.
“Mostly I’m cold,” she added.
Gabe dismounted, unbuckled the saddlebag and reached inside. A moment later, he produced a yellow rain poncho and a small, rectangular object she couldn’t quite make out.
“Here.” He approached her, his stride confident and, she had to admit, sexy.
A small thrill wound through her. She blamed the stressful events of the day. It couldn’t possibly be attraction. To Gabe Dempsey? No way.
“Here.” He shook out the rain poncho, removed her hat and placed the poncho over her head.
“I don’t need—”
“Shut up, Reese.” He replaced her hat and fastened the top snap on the poncho, the one beneath her chin. “It’ll help keep you warm.”
The thrill turned into a flush as his fingers brushed her exposed skin. Who needed a poncho when Gabe’s proximity was enough to warm her from the inside?
“O...kay.” Please don’t let him notice the effect he was having on her.
“Here.” He lifted her hand and pressed the object he’d taken from the saddlebag into it. “Enjoy.”
She stared at the energy bar. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because...”
“You’re as stubborn as your father.” A smile touched his lips.
She thought it might be his first one in days or even weeks. Nothing could be worse than losing a loved one.
“I’ll eat this,” she said, “but only if we share.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Miss McGraw.”
He hadn’t seen anything yet. Just wait until they butted heads over his father’s estate.
Ripping open the wrapper, she removed the energy bar and broke it in half.
He accepted the piece, his fingers brushing hers. Was it intentional? She wouldn’t put it past him. Gabe had always been a ladies’ man, starting in high school. She was surprised he’d reached the age of thirty without some woman snapping him up.
Then again, no one had snapped up Reese, either, though she’d come close once. Perhaps Gabe was like her, married to his work.
They didn’t speak while they ate. Reese stared up the road. No sign of her father yet. When she was done with her half of the energy bar, she checked again on General, then returned to Gabe, pulling the poncho closer around her.
“Still cold?” Gabe asked.
“A little.”
“We could huddle for warmth.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”
His smile returned. “I don’t bite, Reese.”
Sweet heaven, he was gorgeous. “I’m fine.” She was not letting Gabe touch her, much less hold her.
Headlights appeared in the distance, about a mile up the road. Reese released a long sigh. As assistant manager of Southern Arizona Bank, it was her job, her duty, to conduct herself professionally and impersonally with the Dempsey family. Huddling with Gabe, even for warmth in extreme weather conditions, wasn’t either of those things.
She waved as the truck and trailer neared. “Dad’s here. You don’t have to stay.”
“All right,” he said, his tone unreadable, and mounted the mare.
“What about your poncho?”
“Keep it.” Gabe tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “See you around.”
She watched him ride off into the darkness toward Dos Estrellas, barely noticing the truck rumble to a stop behind her.
He’d do more than see her around. Thanks to August Dempsey revising his will six months ago, Reese was about to become a fixture in the Dempsey brothers’ lives, and there was nothing they could do to change it.
Chapter Two (#ulink_6fab20e7-553e-554a-b05a-63b0deaac27f)
“If you’ll all please have a seat, we can get started.” Hector Fuentes made a sweeping gesture that included everyone in the spacious living room. He lowered himself onto the cowhide upholstered recliner where Gabe’s father had once dozed every afternoon while waiting for Raquel Salazar, Gabe’s mother, to finish putting supper on the table.
Better it was the family attorney occupying his father’s favorite chair than one of his half brothers, Gabe thought sourly.
Brothers. The word still sounded strange to him. Two full days in their company had made no difference. Neither had attending the funeral together yesterday or sharing coffee with them before spreading their father’s ashes in the flower garden this morning. Gabe didn’t know these men.
It was his mother’s idea they take the guest suite in the house rather than stay at the Wild Horse Bed and Breakfast in town. “They’re family,” she’d told Gabe. “Your father would have wanted it. And we have plenty of room.”
Gabe had seethed in silence instead of arguing. Did his mother have to be so nice to them? If they inherited the ranch, she’d be thrown out of her home.
After casting tentative glances at each other, the brothers in question sat in matching wingback chairs—which happened to be directly opposite Gabe, his mother and Cara Alvarez. Cara was the daughter of Raquel’s childhood friend Leena and had lived with Gabe’s family the past two years.
Consciously or subconsciously, Gabe, Raquel and Cara had made a united front on the couch.
No one else had been invited to the reading of the will, giving Gabe reason to believe those present were the only ones named as beneficiaries.
He swallowed, but the knot of pain residing above his heart didn’t loosen. Those two men shouldn’t be here. His father had promised Gabe the ranch. Many times over.
What had changed August Dempsey’s mind at the eleventh hour? Was the cancer to blame? Had all the medications and treatments ravaged his body and mind? Or had he lied to Gabe and intended to give the ranch to his legitimate sons all along, leaving Gabe with nothing?
Using his briefcase as a lap desk, Hector Fuentes cleared his throat and tapped a thin stack of papers into a perfect rectangle. “If it’s all right with everyone, I’ll skip the standard legalese and get right to the bequests. I’ve brought copies of the entire will for everyone and will distribute them later to those who want one.”
Gabe wanted a copy. He’d bet his brothers would, too.
Hector smiled at Cara before beginning. “To Cara Alvarez, who has been like a daughter to Raquel and myself, I grant exclusive use of five hundred acres of Dos Estrellas pasture land, to include parcels six, seven and eight, for her mustang sanctuary.”
Cara’s hand flew to her mouth, and she inhaled sharply. The sanctuary and its horses meant a great deal to her. For his father to include her in his will showed how much he’d considered her to be part of the family.
His mother bit back a sob and placed an arm around Cara’s shoulders.
“Cara is to have use of the parcels for as long as she wants,” Hector continued, “or for as long as Dos Estrellas remains in the family.”
Remains in the family. The words gave Gabe hope. His father wouldn’t have allowed Cara exclusive use of nearly one-sixth of the ranch and not bequeath Gabe the entirety of it. Nothing else made sense.
Hector continued, outlining the specifics. “Do you have any questions?” he asked Cara when he was done.
She shook her head, tears filling her eyes.
“Raquel, the love of my life, and Cara both,” Hector said, “will continue to reside at Dos Estrellas and occupy the ranch house for as long as they choose or for as long as the ranch remains in the family.”
Again, Cara inhaled sharply and his mother softly sobbed. Gabe, on the other hand, began to worry. What was with the wording, as long as the ranch remains in the family? Twice his father had used it. There must be some significance.
“Any questions?” Hector repeated when he’d finished with the specifics.
“No,” Gabe’s mother and Cara replied simultaneously.
Hector then listed smaller bequests. Gabe’s mother was to receive ownership of August’s favorite dog. She, along with Gabe and a close cousin, were to get his jewelry, personal items and cherished mementos.
Gabe studied his brothers’ faces during the reading. He wouldn’t recognize either of them as being related to him or their father. Other than the fact they all three stood over six feet tall, there were no noticeable physical similarities. With their blond hair and blue eyes, Josh, the oldest brother, and Cole must resemble their mother.
Neither did they look like the boys he remembered from his childhood. Gabe had been in first grade, Josh second and Cole in kindergarten when an older child on the playground had pointed to the brothers and told Gabe in a taunting voice that they were his father’s real sons. The boy had then called Gabe’s mother a name he hadn’t understood at the time, but instinctively knew was the worst of insults.
Angry and hurt and experiencing feelings he couldn’t explain, much less process, Gabe had passed the rest of the day in a blur. Arriving home after school, he’d gone straight from the bus to his mother and told her about what the boy had said, omitting the bad name.
She’d hugged him, smoothed his hair and insisted he forget about it. Gabe might have, except the same thing happened two days later. Instead of retaliating against the boy, Gabe went after Josh, who was both older and bigger than him. The attack, poorly executed, nonetheless cost him three days’ suspension from school for fighting.
His mother had been furious with him. She’d also been saddened. It was the first Gabe had learned that his father, who visited once or twice a week in the evenings, had a wife and children living on a ranch outside of Mustang Valley. It took Gabe several years to fully understand his family’s unusual dynamics, long after he and his mother had moved to Dos Estrellas.
Did Josh remember the school tussle? Did he know it was Gabe who had hit him and what had made him so angry? Probably not. At least, his face gave no indication.
“Last, is my beloved Dos Estrellas Ranch, which has been in the Dempsey family for three generations.”
Hector’s voice jarred Gabe from his thoughts. Every muscle in his body tightened. He willed himself not to look at his brothers, but at Hector instead. They would not see how important this moment was to him, or his devastation if the rumors turned out to be true and Gabe lost the ranch.
Beside him, his mother shifted and murmured under her breath. Cara grabbed his hand and squeezed.
“I leave the ranch equally to my three sons, Josh, Cole and Gabe.”
Pain sliced through Gabe, leaving him numb. He hadn’t inherited the ranch. Worse, his father had named him third after his two legitimate sons, whom he hadn’t seen in twenty-four years.
Betrayal. It was the emotion Gabe hadn’t been able to define when he was six. It was also the emotion that gripped him now, fresh as the day on the playground with Josh.
“See, I told you, mijo,” his mother said in a whisper, “your father did not forget you.”
Not forget him? He might as well have. Gabe was supposed to share ownership of Dos Estrellas? With them?
“He promised to leave the ranch to Gabe,” Cara hissed.
“Hush,” his mother ordered.
“It’s not fair.” Cara’s voice rose, loud enough to draw the stares of everyone in the room. “Gabe’s worked the land. He knows the cattle business and how the ranch is run.” She gestured to Josh and Cole. “They don’t have the first clue. They’re rodeo competitors, for crying out loud.”
“We can hear you,” Josh said.
Cole grunted and stared angrily out the large bay window.
Gabe fumed. What was the guy’s problem? He had nothing to be angry about.
“If we could please continue,” Hector scolded in an attempt to bring the reading back under control.
Cara didn’t apologize. She didn’t say anything, merely folded her arms across her middle.
With a warning nod in her direction, Hector carried on, reading August’s words. “My good attorney has advised me to cover the many details on a separate page. I’ve done that, merely to satisfy him, mind you.” A hint of amusement flashed in Hector’s eyes. “But, in a nutshell, Dos Estrellas can’t be sold in its entirety unless all three of my sons are in agreement. And while individual shares can be sold, it is my fervent wish my beloved ranch remains in the family for many future generations, and the grandchildren I didn’t live long enough to see will grow up here, fine, strong and healthy like my own boys.”
Gabe almost choked. Was his father serious? The two men sitting across from him hadn’t grown up at the ranch. As children they’d moved six hundred miles away to Northern California and never once come back, ignoring the requests to visit their dying father and say goodbye.
He half listened to the rest of the reading. Violet Hathaway, the ranch’s livestock manager, along with the Dempsey housekeeper of twenty-plus years, were to retain their jobs. Lastly, there was a mention of selling shares to one another and how the profits were to be distributed.
Profits, right. What a joke. There weren’t any, and hadn’t been since August had become ill.
“Questions?” Hector asked, sounding a lot like a parrot.
Gabe shook his head. He would read his copy of the will later, when he was less agitated and better able to focus, though it wouldn’t make much difference.
The empty hole inside him ached. He’d admired, respected and loved his father with boundless devotion. Now he feared he might have been wrong. Whether his father had realized it or not, he’d forced Gabe into partnership with his brothers and, by the looks on their faces, they were as unhappy about the outcome as Gabe.
“Are we done?” Cole asked, his tone sharp.
“Not quite.” Hector set his briefcase on the floor by his feet. “There’s the matter of the trustee.”
“Trustee?” Gabe’s mother leaned forward. “What is a trustee?”
“The Dos Estrellas and August’s other property are actually held in the trust he established. As with all trusts, a person or entity is designated to oversee the trust and carry out the terms of the will according to the decedent’s wishes. Typically, the trustee makes the distributions, and, in this case, will oversee the management of the estate per August’s instructions.”
“Dad hired a manager?” Gabe couldn’t believe his ears.
“Not exactly. You and your brothers will run the ranch. But’s the trustee’s job to make sure you’re running it according to the terms of your father’s will. For instance, your mother and Cara continue to live here as long as they choose and Cara’s mustang sanctuary is protected.”
That sounded reasonable, Gabe supposed.
“You should know your father gave the trustee full financial powers until the ranch operates in the black for at least one full year, and all his medical bills are paid off. The trustee’s duties will end only then or if the ranch is sold.”
“I don’t understand,” Josh said.
“Essentially, while you and your brothers run the ranch, the trustee will be pulling the purse strings.”
If Gabe wasn’t already in a state of shock, this latest bombshell would have knocked him to his knees. His father had preferred for someone outside the family handle the ranch’s finances over his son? His sons?
“Who’s the trustee?” Gabe asked.
Hector waited a beat before responding. “The Southern Arizona Bank.”
Mustang Valley’s sole financial institution. Gabe was familiar with them, like everyone else in the community.
“Why?”
“A trustee is supposed to abide by the terms of the will.” Hector shrugged. “Unfortunately, they don’t always. It can happen when family members are put in charge. Emotions run high. As a result, some individuals choose an entity, such as a bank, or an attorney, to act as trustee. They tend to adhere more strictly to the terms of the will and keep emotions out of it.”
Perhaps Gabe’s father had the foresight to realize forcing his three sons into an unwanted partnership would guarantee high-running emotions.
The front doorbell rang, startling several of the room’s occupants. Not Hector. He made his way to the large, ornately carved wooden door.
“Who could that be?” Gabe’s mother moved as if to rise. “I specifically requested no visitors this afternoon.”
“It’s all right,” Hector said. “I arranged for the representative from the bank to be here today in order to meet you all and put your fears to rest.”
He opened the heavy door. It swung wide, revealing a feminine silhouette cast in dark shadows from the sun’s slanting rays.
“Am I early?” the woman asked.
“Not at all, come in,” he said. “We’re ready for you.”
Gabe blinked as the representative stepped across the threshold, convinced he was seeing things. It couldn’t be. This had to be a mistake. Or someone’s idea of a sick joke. He wasn’t sure if he should shout in protest or laugh out loud.
Hector took the young, professionally dressed woman by the arm and led her to the center of the room as if she were on display.
“For those of you who haven’t met her before, this is Reese McGraw, assistant manager at Southern Arizona Bank and the trustee of August Dempsey’s estate.”
* * *
“THANK YOU.” REESE accepted the cup of coffee Raquel Salazar offered and smiled in appreciation. Other than the attorney Hector Fuentes, Gabe’s mother was the only one to show Reese any friendliness so far.
It was to be expected. Even under normal circumstances, no one in the Dempsey or Salazar families would be pleased to welcome her, the daughter of Theo McGraw. To learn she was the employee at Southern Arizona Bank in charge of overseeing August Dempsey’s estate, well, it must be a shock.
Gabe’s features hardened each time he glanced at her, which was often. If he was trying to scare her off, it wouldn’t work. Reese was here to stay.
It was, she mused, a far cry from the way he’d looked at her yesterday while waiting for her father and Enrico to arrive with the truck and trailer. When he’d buttoned her into the rain poncho, she swore the heat of attraction had flared in his eyes. Not to mention his touch lingered far longer than necessary.
The poncho had kept her warm, all right. That, and the effects of his proximity.
Reese silently scolded herself, alarmed by the direction of her thoughts. She’d known Gabe most of her life, but not once entertained any romantic notions about him. What had changed since their last conversation twelve years ago? Was it her or him?
“You are welcome,” Raquel said in her lilting Hispanic accent. “How is your father doing? He looked a little pale yesterday at the service.”
Reese gave a small start. Raquel had noticed her father’s appearance? Surely, she’d had much, much more on her mind at the funeral than Theo McGraw. Reese swallowed. Soon, her father’s symptoms would become increasingly apparent. Hiding his Parkinson’s would be impossible.
Good. His constant care, and the tremendous burden that came with it, were taking a toll on her, physically and emotionally. He needed help managing his symptoms beyond her limited abilities. Yet he refused to hire an experienced health care professional, convinced people in Mustang Valley would view him differently. Think less of him.
She wished he could see how wrong he was. The same people he feared would pity him had rallied to comfort the family and offer support during August Dempsey’s long illness. They would do the same for her father.
She blamed the damnable McGraw pride, which her father possessed in abundance. She, too, perhaps. Hadn’t she left town shortly after realizing she was pregnant with Blake Nolan’s baby, convinced people would talk behind her and her father’s backs?
“He was tired,” she explained to Raquel. “His arthritis has been keeping him awake at night.”
Her hostess sighed expansively. “I understand. I have my own complaints. Give him my regards, will you?”
“Of course.”
She patted Reese’s arm before gliding away.
Reese admired Gabe’s mother. While the sadness in Raquel’s eyes showed evidence of her grief and sorrow, she remained strong and stalwart. Perhaps, in a way, she was relieved at his passing. August had been in considerable pain at the end, and no one wanted to see their loved one needlessly suffer.
Funny they’d never married. August and his wife divorced twenty-plus years ago. Reese was curious. Reading the entirety of his will hadn’t provided any insight.
Sipping her coffee, she made her way to Cara Alvarez, who, by her estimation, was the one person with the least reason to dislike her. They had once been school friends, after all. Before the feud between August and Reese’s father severed their budding friendship.
“Hey, how you doing?”
Cara glanced up from the spot on the floor she’d been staring at. “All right.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
With her luxurious black hair and striking beauty, Cara might have been related to Raquel and not just the daughter she never had. One prominent difference was their eyes. While Raquel’s sparked with a wide array of emotions, Cara’s alternated between listlessness and despair. They had been that way since the tragic death of her toddler son two years ago.
“I hear you’re doing great things with the mustang sanctuary,” Reese said.
“I don’t know about great.” Cara shifted and resumed staring, this time out the window.
Was she remembering her son’s funeral?
Reese decided her former schoolmate wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “If there’s anything you need, feel free to call me or come by the bank.”
“Okay.”
She touched Cara’s arm before crossing the room. Feeling a prickling on the back of her neck, she turned and found Gabe staring at her from a far corner of the room. He stood by himself. No surprise, anger radiated off him in waves.
Reese squared her shoulders, refusing to wilt beneath the visual assault. She was at the ranch in an official capacity. Gabe and his family may not like the fact she was the trustee, but there was nothing they could do about it. August Dempsey’s last wishes would be honored.
Lifting her coffee cup in acknowledgment, she nodded at Gabe. He responded with raised brows and a look of surprise. How about that? She’d bested him. Surely it was a first.
Pleased with herself, she continued her casual stroll of the room. Hector was currently immersed in conversation with Raquel. From what Reese could discern, he was answering the questions she’d have gladly done if asked.
She’d certainly chosen a rough road to travel, though she wouldn’t have refused the assignment. Losing her credibility at the bank, and possibly her position, weren’t options. She needed a job with decent income and one that enabled her to be close to her father. Assistant manager of Southern Arizona Bank fit the bill perfectly.
Besides, she liked her job. And, if she said so herself, she was good at it.
Finishing her coffee, she started for the kitchen, planning to dispose of her cup in the sink. At the large archway separating the dining room from the kitchen, she paused. The strains of what was clearly a private conversation reached her ears from the other side of the archway and around the corner. It was between Josh Dempsey and his brother Cole.
“What am I going to do with one-third of the ranch?” Cole demanded irritably. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything that belonged to him.”
“Let’s get our copy of the will and read through it,” Josh suggested. “The terms may not be ironclad.”
“You heard what the attorney said.”
Cole had understood correctly. The will was ironclad. August had been thorough, perhaps anticipating a conflict.
“Maybe we can contest it.”
“And where are we going to find the money for that?” Cole scoffed. “Getting custody of your kids drained your bank account.”
Reese recalled reading the background information Hector had provided on the Dempsey brothers. According to the report, Josh was locked in a bitter legal battle with his ex-wife over custody of their two young children.
“Take it easy, Cole. My financial problems aren’t what’s making you mad.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to be here, and I’m sorry we came.”
“Give it another day or two. We’ll figure out a way to get your money.”
“Our money, you mean. Don’t forget, brother, you want your share as badly as I want mine. Attorneys aren’t cheap.”
Reese retreated, concerned by what she’d heard. Growing up in Mustang Valley, she knew about August’s first family and that there was no love lost between him and his sons. But he must have wanted to make amends. Why else would he have modified his will six months ago? Obviously, his two sons didn’t appreciate the gesture.
Should she tell Gabe? Was it her place? No, probably not. But nothing stopped her from dropping a hint or two about his brothers’ intentions.
He hadn’t left the corner. Seeing his hard expression, Reese had second thoughts. Perhaps she should speak to Hector instead. Though what could he do? The same as her, alert Gabe, who’d likely be more receptive to the family attorney than her.
She wavered, still debating and well aware she was drawing attention to herself. A moment later, she headed straight for Gabe.
He didn’t so much as blink at her approach. The guy had nerves of steel.
“I wanted to thank you again for helping me yesterday,” she said.
“How’s the horse?”
“Fine. A bit sore, but otherwise unharmed. The vet prescribed pain relievers, an anti-inflammatory and a week’s rest.” She mentioned the vet’s visit strictly to let Gabe know she wasn’t lax when it came to the well-being of the McGraw horses.
“You were lucky.”
“I was.” She hoped he noted the sincerity she was trying to convey. “I can’t imagine what I would have done if you hadn’t come riding by.”
“Gone for help,” he said matter-of-factly.
“And might not have made it back in time to save General.”
“I disagree. You’re a resourceful woman, Reese.”
“How would you know? We’re not exactly friends.”
Except he’d witnessed one of the worst moments in her life and had treated her secret like it was his own, telling no one. Did that give them some sort of bond?
“It shows.” He angled his head in a way managing to be both confident and boyishly charming.
“I’m not that capable.”
“No? You’re the trustee of my father’s estate. If you ask me, that’s pretty resourceful.”
Ah. There they were. The knives. And here she’d assumed they might have a normal conversation. “Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with your father’s decision.”
“Other than you returned to Mustang Valley and took a job at the bank a few weeks before he revised his will.”
She stiffened. “A coincidence.”
“Right.”
“I can count on one hand the number of times I spoke to your father. The last was when he came into the bank and met with Walt, the manager. For the record, I wasn’t in the meeting.”
“Yet you were named as trustee.”
“The bank was. I’m performing the duties because I’m assistant manager.” Not entirely true, but Reese wasn’t ready to reveal any private agreements between August and the bank.
“Does your father know?”
Reese stood straighter. “He doesn’t.”
“But he will soon enough.”
“Gabe, I didn’t strike up a conversation with you to bicker.”
“Then why?”
There it was again, that flash of heat in his eyes. Darn him and darn her susceptibility.
“How well do you know your brothers?”
Her question elicited a sharp laugh.
“Have you had a chance to talk with them these last few days?”
“I’ve had the chance. Not the inclination.” He studied her intently.
Reese resisted his close scrutiny. “I sense an animosity from them.”
“No kidding.” Gabe’s tone rang with sarcasm.
“I’m serious. Josh and Cole appear to be...unhappy with the terms of the will.”
“They aren’t alone.”
“I think Cole is only after money.”
“What are you after?”
This wasn’t going how Reese had hoped. She considered a different approach when Gabe’s glance suddenly cut to the left.
“Quiet,” he murmured and visibly tensed.
Reese peered over her shoulder. Josh and Cole weren’t three feet away. Both wore suspicious expressions. How much, if anything, had they heard?
Gathering her wits, she said, “There you are. I was telling Gabe, the four of us need to schedule a meeting to review the financial records and discuss your father’s plan for the ranch.”
“We were about to suggest the same thing.” Josh looked to his brother. “We have some questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Gabe demanded, his jaw tightening.
Placing herself between the three men, Reese plastered a smile on her face. “How’s tomorrow afternoon at the ranch? Say, two o’clock?”
Chapter Three (#ulink_f382dc93-2f43-5b4d-b03a-226096de9b70)
Gabe watched Reese bid goodbye to his mother and Hector, fetch her coat and purse from the back of a dining room chair and leave by the front door.
A moment later, when no one was looking, he followed her, catching up as she reached her parked car in the driveway.
“Reese.”
She stopped and turned, her car key clutched in her fingers. “Oh, did I forget something?”
“You by chance have a second?”
“Sure.”
She looked anything but sure. A second later, she popped the locks on her Honda sedan. Opening the car door, she deposited her purse on the passenger seat, then waited.
“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were the trustee?” he asked.
She crossed her arms over her middle. “My instructions were not to tell anyone before the reading of the will.”
“I helped you rescue your horse.”
“Doesn’t work that way, Gabe.”
He shifted, the chilly November air penetrating his dress shirt. Why hadn’t he grabbed his suit jacket before coming outside?
“Isn’t there a conflict of interest?”
“Rest assured, I’m completely unbiased when it comes to my job, and completely professional.”
“Your father has been after Dos Estrellas for years. Twice he tried to buy it when Dad fell behind on the property taxes. And he made an offer earlier this year. Dad was going through chemo. Nothing like kicking a man when he’s down.”
“What are you implying?”
“Can you be relied on not to use your position to advance your father’s ambitions?”
She pivoted on her high heels. It was a miracle she didn’t lose her balance and face-plant in the driveway. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
Gabe took hold of her elbow. They both stilled. “It’s a fair question.”
“I have never used my job to advance my father’s ambitions or my own. Nor would I. You asking such a thing is insulting.”
“Look at me, Reese.” He waited until did. “I’m protecting my family.”
She sagged, some of the fight going out of her. “You’re angry—about the terms of the will and your brothers inheriting two-thirds of the ranch. You were also taken aback learning I’m the trustee. For those reasons, I’ll pretend you didn’t just question my ethics.”
“Our fathers didn’t get along.”
“I disagree. They actually liked and admired each other greatly. My father has always spoken very highly of yours.”
“They were business rivals. And your father was considerably more successful than mine.”
“Your father had two families to support. I’m an only child, and my mother left when I was eight. It makes a difference.”
Her parents’ divorce was another similarity they shared. While Gabe’s father had taken a mistress, Reese’s mother had abandoned her family, running away with her lover, who was, at the time, the Small Change’s tax accountant.
“And your father came from money,” Gabe said.
“Which gave him all the more reason to admire yours. August Dempsey made something of himself from humble beginnings.”
Gabe didn’t voice what was on his mind, that, in the end, his father had lost much of what he’d built. The family would be paying off his medical bills for years. Which meant Reese would be the trustee of his father’s estate for a long, long time.
“Can we not argue about this?” She glanced down at her arm, which Gabe still held.
He let his hand drop and instantly missed the intimate contact. He’d felt warmth beneath the fabric of her jacket. And soft, supple flesh. It had stirred his senses.
“Does your boss know about the feud between our families?”
“Of course he does.”
“And he doesn’t care?”
“First of all, I’m the one who told Walt. I thought it would be best he hear it from me. Secondly, as I said earlier, I’m required by my position with the bank to be honest and fair. Also, every detail of my work will be scrutinized by the board.” She squared her shoulders. “Should even one small detail come under question, my job could be at stake. I won’t risk it.”
“You don’t need to work. Your father’s well-off.”
Reese inhaled sharply. “You’re hardly an expert on my personal life.”
Gabe could have kicked himself. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“Fine. Apology accepted.” She reached for the open car door. “Now, if you don’t mind.”
“Would I also be out of line if I requested someone else at the bank be appointed as trustee? Surely, you aren’t the only person qualified.”
He expected her to be mad. She fooled him again by dismissing his question with an indifferent shrug. “You can ask. The answer will be no.”
“Why?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Sounds like a convenient excuse.”
“It isn’t.”
Again, she’d barely reacted. Gabe found that interesting. Reese was either incredibly confident or she knew something she wasn’t telling.
Her cell phone chimed from her jacket pocket. Extracting the phone, she glanced at the display and promptly answered with an anxious, “Yes, Enrico.” After a pause, she said, “I’ll be right there,” and disconnected. “I have to go,” she told Gabe.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No.” She fumbled with the phone before returning it to her pocket. “My father fell from the porch steps.”
“Is he hurt?”
“Banged his knee. He may need to see the doctor.”
For a banged knee? Gabe thought Reese might be overreacting. Theo McGraw was tough as nails and wouldn’t be bothered by a little tumble off the porch steps. “Call me if you need anything.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Really? After raking me over the coals, you’re offering to be the good neighbor?”
“I, um...”
He’d started to say he was concerned for her, then changed his mind at the last second. He didn’t give a damn about Reese McGraw.
Except, that wasn’t true. He did feel something for her. Compassion and sympathy, at least. Why else would he have kept her secret all these years?
If not for their fathers’ rivalry, their relationship might have taken a different path. They had been classmates and neighbors. Dating in high school wouldn’t have been far-fetched.
Anything transpiring between them now, however, was out of the question, and Gabe was wise to maintain a safe distance.
The problem was he wanted to take her in his arms, give her a hug and tell her not to worry. Her father was going to be fine.
“I don’t hate you, Reese. And I don’t wish your father ill. If he needs help, or you, call me.”
“Thank you.” She slid onto the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “I’ll see you tomorrow at two.”
Aware he was crossing an invisible line, Gabe covered one of her white-knuckled hands with his. She was obviously worried about her father. “Drive careful. It’s getting dark.”
For a moment, they remained where they were. If Gabe didn’t know better, he’d think a part of her wanted to stay. But that was ridiculous.
Whatever spell they’d fallen under ended, and she started the engine. Gabe watched her depart, thinking he should return to the house. Why, then, didn’t he? At the end of the long road leading from the ranch house to the main road, Reese’s brake lights illuminated. She turned left, in the direction of the Small Change.
He might have spent more time contemplating why her father’s seemingly minor fall prompted her to leave in such a hurry except he was interrupted by the last person he wanted to see. His brother Josh.
Dammit. What did the man want now? The shirt off Gabe’s back?
“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
Gabe ground his teeth together. His brother’s timing was impeccable. Or, perhaps, intentional. He could have spotted Gabe and Reese from the living room window.
“You didn’t.” Gabe pushed past him. Whatever Josh wanted, he wasn’t interested.
“Got a minute?”
Gabe halted and cursed under his breath. “For what?”
They’d hardly spoken these past few days despite living in close quarters. Gabe had no intention of changing the status quo.
“You and her,” Josh hitched his chin in the direction Reese had driven in her car, “are you friends?”
Gabe’s hackles rose. His relationship with Reese was no one’s business. Especially Josh’s.
“We’re neighbors.”
“I know. I lived here once.”
He couldn’t help thinking the reference to Josh residing at the ranch before Gabe came to live there was intentional.
“What I’m asking is, are you close?”
He stared his brother down.
Josh held his own. “It’s a reasonable question. She’s going to control the ranch’s finances. If you and Reese are involved, there could be a conflict of interest.”
Five minutes ago, Gabe had been asking Reese the same question. Now he defended her.
“She’s a professional. She won’t do anything to jeopardize her position at the bank.”
“But you’re friends.”
“I’m not discussing her with you.” Gabe once again started for the house and once again, Josh halted him with his words.
“I don’t like this any better than you.”
“We have nothing in common.”
“Other than our father and this ranch and the fact we have to work together. Or agree to sell.”
That rankled Gabe. “I’m not selling.”
“Think about it before you decide. Dad left us with a lot of bills to pay and little means at our disposal. Selling would get us out of debt and free us to move on.”
“There’s no we as far as I’m concerned. Our father promised me the ranch. Not you and your brother.”
Josh inhaled deeply as if to control his temper. “Cole and I have every right to inherit a share of Dos Estrellas.”
“Because why? We happen to share the same blood?” Gabe snorted in disgust. “You haven’t set foot on this place for twenty-four years.”
“He cheated on my mother.”
Josh had targeted Gabe’s one weak spot, and the blow inflicted the desired damage.
He knew with all his heart his father had loved his mother deeply. That didn’t make it right for him to disregard his marriage vows. Gabe’s mother had raised him to be honorable. It was hard for him to accept the fact his father hadn’t divorced his wife before becoming involved with Gabe’s mother.
He’d asked once when he was twelve. His mother’s face had immediately hardened, and she told him to never, ever bring up the subject again or she’d tan his hide. It was a private matter between her and his father.
In his early twenties, Gabe approached his father and got no further with him. The reason his father gave for not marrying his mother—that Gabe’s maternal grandfather was very traditional and didn’t approve—smacked of an excuse. When Gabe pressed, his father had stormed from the room. Only the love and devotion he felt for both his parents kept him from resenting them.
“We’re done talking.” Gabe strode ahead without looking back.
Good manners dictated he should return to the house and tell Hector goodbye. The attorney had been his father’s closest confidant. But, like yesterday, Gabe needed an outlet to vent his frustration.
It was too late and too dark for a ride in the nearby mountains. Not too late to clean out the tack room, he decided. Nothing beat tossing a few crates and harnesses around to burn off steam. Dress shirt be damned.
“I remember,” Josh called after him. “It was you who punched me in the nose at school. You had a pretty good right hook for a kid.”
Gabe didn’t miss a step, though it was the first thing his brother had said that made him smile.
* * *
REESE OPENED THE jewelry box on her bedroom dresser, lifted out the top tray and removed a tiny framed picture hidden beneath. It was a ritual. Every year on this day, Celia’s birthday, Reese studied the picture of her newborn daughter, let the memories of her birth warm her heart and then placed a phone call.
Today, Reese came home from the bank during her lunch hour in order to call Celia, but also to check on her father. His tumble off the porch yesterday could have been worse. Luckily, he hadn’t fallen far, but he had landed hard and badly bruised his knee. Loss of balance was a common side effect of Parkinson’s. As was stooped posture. Her father looked ten years older than he had mere months ago. She’d also noticed a slight tremor in his right hand and a quiver in his voice. Each new symptom increased her despair.
Feeling the weight of the little silver frame in her hand, Reese stared at Celia’s infant face and was reminded of why she’d excused herself after lunching with her father and retreated to her bedroom. How could she not be thinking of her daughter on this special day? The problem with Parkinson’s was it consumed the thoughts of the person afflicted with it, along with their family members.
While Celia’s parents made no secret of her adoption, they and Celia were the only ones who knew Reese was her birth mother. Shortly after her high school graduation, Reese had moved to Oregon to live with her older cousin Megan on the pretense of taking a year off before college. There, she’d given birth to Celia, who was then adopted by Megan and her husband.
They adored Celia. They also encouraged her to have a relationship with Reese, for which Reese felt grateful and blessed.
Ever since Celia could talk, Reese called her on a prearranged day once a month. Three times over the years, she’d flown to Oregon for a visit. In her closet, Reese kept a small trunk filled with letters from Celia, drawings, cards, photographs and, lately, school papers. Her computer contained numerous picture files organized by age.
Someday, when they were both ready, Celia would come to Mustang Valley for a visit and to meet her grandfather. Reese hoped it was soon, before the Parkinson’s advanced to the point her father couldn’t function or communicate.
“Hi, sweet pea,” Reese said when Celia answered the phone. “Happy eleventh birthday.”
“Reese! You called.”
“Of course.” Reese bit back a sob. Her emotions were getting the best of her today. “It sounds like you have a cold.”
“We were supposed to go out for pizza tonight.” Celia snuffled. “Now we have to wait for the weekend.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I got your present. Thank you. The boots are exactly the ones I wanted.”
They talked for twenty minutes until Reese had to say goodbye. The meeting at Dos Estrellas was scheduled for two, and she wanted to check on her father one last time before leaving.
“I hope you feel better soon,” she said.
“Me, too. But I get to miss school, so that part’s good.”
Reese enjoyed their easy banter. “Send me pictures of the pizza party.”
“I will. Goodbye, Reese.”
“Goodbye, sweet pea.” Reese disconnected before softly saying, “I love you.” She and Celia weren’t quite close enough for her to speak the words. Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day. She refused to push.
In the kitchen, she found her father sitting at the table, having his customary afternoon coffee.
“I thought the doctor said caffeine was bad for you,” she scolded.
“Would you rather I have a whiskey?”
“Dad!”
“I’ve given up everything worthwhile. You’re not taking away my coffee.”
“Fine.” She patted his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. “I won’t tattle on you.”
“Your Aunt Louise sent me an email earlier. She wants to come for a visit at Christmas.”
“Great!” Reese’s mood brightened. She adored her father’s younger sister, who’d been like a second mother to her after her parents divorced. “How long’s she going to stay?”
“I told her no. That we were busy.”
“What!” Reese dropped into the chair across from her father and gaped at him.
“It’s not a good time.”
“You can’t hide your Parkinson’s forever.”
“I’m not ready to tell her.”
“It won’t be Christmas without family visiting.”
“Your Aunt Louise is a busybody. Always thinks she knows what’s best for people.”
“She loves you.”
“She’ll interfere.”
Reese bit her tongue. Her father was the one sick, not her. It was his choice whom he told and when, regardless if she disagreed.
“Off to your meeting at Dos Estrellas?” He was attempting to distract her, and she let him.
“Depending on how long the meeting lasts, I may come straight home and skip going back to the bank.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my brain around you being the trustee of August Dempsey’s estate.”
She’d finally informed her father last night, when she was able to do so. “Strange, I know.”
“August must be having himself one heck of a good laugh up in heaven.”
“He did choose the bank to act as trustee.”
“Probably didn’t realize you’d be the one running the show.”
There was no way for Reese to respond without violating her client’s privacy, so she said nothing.
“Poor man,” her father said. “He must have hated seeing the ranch fall to ruin like it did.”
“Dos Estrellas is hardly in ruins.”
“It’s buried in debt.”
Buried was an exaggeration. Waist-deep, maybe. “I can’t discuss the ranch finances with you.”
“He should have sold it to me when he had the chance.”
Reese shook her head. “And what would you do with Dos Estrellas? Let’s be honest, you’re having enough trouble running the Small Change.”
He grunted in displeasure. “Don’t count me out yet.”
“Never.” She smiled and kissed his head again before retrieving her briefcase and a travel mug of coffee from the counter. “I’ll see you later.”
“Good luck,” he called after her.
Reese passed Enrico on the way to her car, and they exchanged hellos. The ranch foreman was heading inside to give her father a report. The loyal employee had been doing that more and more of late, three or four times a day. And because her father was being regularly checked on, Reese was able to leave the house, confident he’d be all right.
In the indeterminable future, whether her father agreed or not, they would need to hire a caretaker. Reese could anticipate how their conversation would go and was dreading it.
During the ten-minute drive to Dos Estrellas, she mentally prepared for the meeting. This, she realized, was the third day in a row she’d see Gabe. She should get used to it. With her new responsibilities, they would be in frequent contact. The notion gave her a not-so-small shiver of anticipation—which she promptly squashed. Her attraction to Gabe was inappropriate, and even if they were to date, the timing couldn’t be worse. He had a ranch in serious financial trouble to run alongside two brothers he didn’t get along with.
Reese slowed to take the turn into the Dos Estrellas driveway. She parked in the same spot as yesterday, instantly reminded of her and Gabe’s awkward, yet strangely intimate, parting. She’d have sworn he was about to say something revealing and romantic to her. When he didn’t, she blamed her overactive imagination playing tricks on her.
But there was that moment between them on the hilltop when he’d fastened her into the poncho...
Enough, she told herself. This has to stop.
Raquel Salazar answered Reese’s knock on the door, smiling affectionately. “Come in, chiquita.”
Little girl? Reese could hardly call herself that. Raquel, however, was the motherly type who called everyone by an endearment.
“I have the office all set for you.” Raquel indicated a door off the living room. “This way.”
August’s home office was a masculine mixture of functional and comfortable. Situated behind a heavy antique desk was an oversized executive chair. It nearly swallowed Reese when she sat down. Certificates lined one wall. August, it appeared, had been a member of several professional organizations, including the Arizona Cattlemen’s Association.
On the other wall hung family portraits spanning several decades, back to the first Dempsey who’d originally purchased the land and built the ranch. A well-worn leather couch sat beneath the portraits and looked cozy enough to sink into for long hours of reading or listening to the old-fashioned stereo system.
Notably absent was evidence of modern technology. No computer. No TV, flat-screen or otherwise. No smartphone docking station or Bluetooth speaker. In fact, the one phone was an antiquated desktop model with a push-button dial pad, and the clock required a weekly winding to run.
Reese glanced around the room. “Where did August keep the ranch records?”
“In here.” Raquel walked to a black lateral filing cabinet adjacent to the couch and opened the top drawer.
Reese could see rows and rows of hanging file folders with various headings: Payroll, Vehicles, Insurance, Veterinary Care, to name a few. “What about the financial information?”
“Ah.” Raquel pulled out an elongated brown binder, which she placed on the desk in front of Reese. “Do you mean this?”
“Wow.” Reese opened the binder and stared in amazement at the three-to-a-page checks and the thick stack of stubs. “I didn’t know anybody used manual checks anymore.”
“August didn’t trust computers.”
“So I see.” Reese sighed, flipping through the stubs and noting the entries. “What about income? How did he track that?”
Raquel opened a side drawer of the desk. Inside were a half dozen green accounting ledger books stacked one on top of the other.
“Great.” Reese definitely had her work cut out for her. “Prior year tax returns handy?”
Those were in the next drawer down. Reese was relieved to see they’d been prepared by a local CPA.
Thankfully, Hector Fuentes had given her a flash drive with August’s plan for the ranch, including a month-by-month and year-by-year schedule. Reese wasn’t sure what she’d have done with handwritten notes.
“I’ll tell the boys you’re here,” Raquel said and left, her footsteps soundless on the thick, colorful area rug.
Reese removed her laptop from her briefcase and powered it up. She also pulled out a copy of the entire living trust. When, a few minutes later, no one had yet arrived, she began examining the first accounting journal. It was meticulously updated until four months ago. After that, the entries were sketchy, then they stopped altogether.
August had probably gotten too sick to continue, which didn’t bode well for the ranch finances.
Cole entered the office, removing his cowboy hat and running a hand through his windblown blond hair. Not the person Reese expected to see first.
“Hi.” She greeted him in her best assistant bank manager smile. “Have a seat.”
Raquel had brought in three chairs from the dining room and placed them across from the desk. Cole chose the one on the right and, sitting, balanced his hat on his knee.
“Will this take long?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Depends on a number of things.”
“Like?” He couldn’t have a bigger chip on his shoulder if he tried.
“The number of questions you all have. How quickly we get through reviewing the records. What shape they’re in.” Terrible, these past four months. “How cooperative you are.”
He answered by slouching in the chair, crossing his boots at the ankles and his arms over his stomach.
Reese wasn’t impressed or intimidated.
Gabe entered the office next with Josh right behind him. If she didn’t know better, she’d think they arrived together. But that was impossible, right?
“Hey, Reese.” Josh grinned affably before taking the middle chair. “It is okay if I call you Reese?”
“Of course,” she replied, trying not to stare at Gabe like a love-struck teenager.
He’d clearly come from the pastures or barn or wherever it was he’d been working. He smelled of the outdoors and looked ruggedly handsome with his tanned complexion and two-day growth of beard. With a nonchalance both unconscious and incredibly sexy, he sat, rolled down his shirtsleeves and rebuttoned them at the cuffs, but not before Reese caught sight of strong, prominently muscled arms with a light dusting of hair.
She remembered those arms from when they’d held her the night of their senior prom. She’d thought then they were the kind of arms a woman could rely on to take care of her and keep her safe.
“Are we ready to start?” Thankfully, her voice didn’t betray the riot of emotions warring inside her.
Chapter Four (#ulink_96765915-51eb-50e1-9887-746d32724bc8)
Gabe listened as Reese read from a document on her laptop computer. His father’s plan for Dos Estrellas. Given the amount of detail, he’d trusted his legitimate sons no more than he’d trusted Gabe acting alone to make the right decisions for the ranch.
If it were possible for Gabe to move farther away from Josh without being obvious, he would. Why his mother had felt the need to place the chairs within inches of each other, he didn’t know. To promote comradery was his guess. As if sitting close would dissolve years of animosity and resentment.
Admittedly, Gabe’s opinion of Josh had risen the smallest fraction yesterday following his remark about Gabe’s right hook. Cole, well, he continued to annoy Gabe. The guy took attitude to a new level with a temper to match. To be fair, he probably thought the same thing about Gabe. And, no, that didn’t make them brothers or even pals. Simply two people with good reason to be angry at each other.
Struggling to stay focused, he concentrated on Reese. It didn’t help. She was far too distracting.
Today, she wore dress slacks and a tan sweater that, despite being bulky, hinted at the lovely, lush figure beneath. She wore minimal makeup—something Gabe preferred. Her one exception, pink lipstick accentuating a very kissable mouth.
Come to think of it, the other day on the mountain she hadn’t been wearing any lipstick, and Gabe had still thought her mouth was kissable. Was every red-blooded male who came into the bank like him, appreciating her looks?
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/cathy-mcdavid/her-holiday-rancher/) 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.
Cathy McDavid
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
Отзывы: Пока нет Добавить отзыв
О книге: A COWBOY FOR ALL SEASONSFour generations of Dempseys have struggled to turn the Dos Estrellas ranch into a successful cattle operation. Gabe Dempsey vows to keep the dream alive, even if he has to share ownership with two half-brothers, who are virtual strangers. They are also pressuring him to sell—which will happen over his dead body. Luckily, Reese McGraw is the trustee of his father′s estate, and she′s on Gabe′s side. For now.Reese is happy to support Gabe in his fight to keep the ranch—but is her support a conflict of interest? His brothers seem to think so. Gabe and Reese′s growing feelings for each other are a problem, too. But maybe it′s one that will be solved by the magic of Christmas!