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The Rancher's Homecoming
Anna J. Stewart
Chance Blackwell’s return could cost her everything! Ten years after he eloped with Katie Montgomery’s sister, Chance Blackwell’s back in Montana to sell his family ranch. Katie could lose her job and the only home she’s known. But the loyal cowgirl’s keeping a secret that could jeopardize her future with the widowed musician and her toddler niece….


Chance Blackwell’s return—
Could cost her everything!
Ten years after he eloped with Katie Montgomery’s sister, Chance Blackwell is back in Montana to sell his family ranch. Katie could lose her job and the only home she’s known. But the loyal cowgirl is keeping a secret that could shatter trust and jeopardize her future with the widowed musician and her toddler niece. Unless Chance’s growing affection for her and all things Blackwell can earn Katie his forgiveness—and his love.
Bestselling author ANNA J. STEWART can’t remember a time she wasn’t making up stories. Raised in San Francisco, she quickly found her calling as a romance writer when she discovered the used bookstore in her neighbourhood had an entire wall dedicated to the genre. Her favourites? Mills & Boon books, of course. A generous owner had her refilling her bag of books every Saturday morning, and soon her pen met paper and she never looked back—much to the detriment of her high school education. Anna currently lives in Northern California, where she continues to write up a storm, binge-watches her favourite TV shows and movies and spends as much time as she can with her family and friends… and her cat, Snickers, who, let’s face it, rules the house.
Also by Anna J. Stewart (#u6b45426c-372b-5bdd-8dc3-3e9c7797c401)
Reunited with the P.I.
More Than a Lawman
Gone in the Night
Always the Hero
A Dad for Charlie
Recipe for Redemption
The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor
Christmas, Actually
“The Christmas Wish”
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Rancher’s Homecoming
Anna J. Stewart


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09075-9
THE RANCHER’S HOMECOMING
© 2018 Anna J. Stewart
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Version: 2018-12-18
For my Blackwell sisters: Melinda Curtis,
Cari Lynn Webb, Carol Ross and Amy Vastine.
I will follow you women anywhere.
And our fearless wrangler and editor, Kathryn Lye.
I hope we’ve done you proud.
Contents
Cover (#u8a2f46b3-a41d-58c0-a18c-88970f78944b)
Back Cover Text (#ufaaa07a3-dcab-5f35-9c8a-9c7e9eefa429)
About the Author (#u03265766-1175-54cc-af99-8b2f2bbc38d0)
Booklist (#u565c4461-a7fc-5822-81ab-054f2c07f133)
Title Page (#u6ce63e16-e637-571b-9f2e-7e30cfbeb288)
Copyright (#u56bfb5db-f222-5db1-b78f-a6764b1e74a2)
Dedication (#u1762d341-3340-5a73-8908-92b76e26089b)
CHAPTER ONE (#uf1419d94-ee37-5ea5-b005-e5b8be0a64b9)
CHAPTER TWO (#u478297d0-1dfd-503f-8283-828e2e0b66e2)
CHAPTER THREE (#ufa7fed48-5e32-5d2a-918f-292dd1bf88bb)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ua4f2678b-901c-5761-ad77-8fcee620bb29)
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)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u6b45426c-372b-5bdd-8dc3-3e9c7797c401)
CHANCE BLACKWELL MISSED a lot about performing.
He missed the way the room went silent as he sang words he’d painstakingly chosen. He missed the oddly intoxicating smell of beer, perfume and rejection. He missed the way the lights were dim enough for him to pretend he was alone, that it was just him and his guitar.
What he didn’t miss was walking off stage to find his long-time, long-suffering agent ready to pounce. Given the sour expression on Felix Fuller’s face, there wasn’t an “atta boy” in Chance’s future.
“I thought you had new material.” Felix’s disappointment was clear and cut almost as deep as Chance expected. Only five years older than Chance, who’d just turned thirty, Felix was as short as Chance was tall, pudgy where Chance was toned and was determined while Chance was...
Well, Chance didn’t know exactly what he was anymore.
Chance sighed and gripped the guitar he’d received as a gift his first Christmas after leaving the Blackwell Family Ranch ten years before. His wife, Maura, had worked a second waitressing job on the sly to buy it from a local pawnshop that Christmas they spent in Nashville. He could still remember her sitting on the floor next to the scraggly tree he’d dragged out of the back of a tree lot, her freckled face alight with excitement as he unwrapped it. The instrument had been the greatest gift he’d ever received. Until Rosie was born, at least.
“The new songs aren’t ready,” Chance lied. “And the crowd seems happy enough.” Applause was applause, right?
“The crowd was being polite.” Felix followed Chance down the narrow hallway. “You can’t launch a comeback on old songs, Chance. Sentimentality will only get you so far. We need something new, something fresh. Something from the heart.”
From the heart? Chance swallowed against the wave of grief-tinged nausea. If that’s what was needed, no wonder his creative spark had been doused. “I need more time.”
“You don’t have more time.” Felix nipped at his heels like an overanxious puppy. “Unless you don’t have any interest in keeping a roof over Rosie’s head. Or yours, for that matter.”
Chance’s gut knotted. He could live in his car and be fine with it, but no way did he want anything less than complete stability for his daughter. “I can’t write from a dry well, Felix.” And that’s exactly what he had. A dry, dusty well of inspiration. Ashes to ashes...
“Okay, okay, so let’s look at the bright side.” Felix’s voice dropped as he gestured toward the frayed, dark green curtains. “They’ve missed you, Chance. Your fans, your audience, they want you back. Which means we’ve got to strike—”
“I told you before this gig, I’m only dipping my toe.” Chance accepted the congratulatory slaps on the back and positive comments from patrons as he made his way to the makeshift dressing room, which, over the years, had been occupied by far more talented and popular musicians than himself. Apparently they didn’t care that he was singing songs from five years ago. “I’m not diving in all the way again. I’m not ready.”
He knew what he should be drawing on, but the idea of writing about Maura, about her illness, her death, scraped his heart raw whenever he plucked the first notes. The paralyzing grief over losing his wife had faded—for the most part. He’d come to terms with her being gone, but only because he didn’t have a choice.
Rosie needed him. And when it came to his daughter, nothing else mattered.
Sadly, that meant going back to the only thing he’d ever been any good at: songwriting and performing.
“What do you mean you’re not ready?” Felix moved around the band as they dodged around him, instruments in hand, semipanicked expressions on their far too young faces. “All evidence to the contrary, man. You belong on that stage. Look, Chance, I get it. This is tough, and it’s a big change for you, but you and I agreed you weren’t done. You promised after enough time passed—”
“You don’t get to decide when I’ve had enough time.” Chance stopped with his hand on the tarnished doorknob and looked over his shoulder. “What’s this really about, Felix? You threatening to jump ship if I don’t get on board? Have another hot new act waiting in the wings for your full attention?”
Felix shook his head, a bit too enthusiastically for Chance’s taste, as a strand of slicked-black hair fell over one suddenly anxious eye. “Not full attention, exactly.”
“Felix?” Chance urged. “We’ve been together long enough for you to be honest with me.” Lord knew Chance had certainly been honest with him. “I know it’s been tight for you with me taking this much time off right when things were getting good for us. But you knew when you signed me Maura was my top priority.” And she had been, right up until the end. Only now that the haze around his heart had cleared did Chance have the slightest inclination to perform again. Writing was a different story. “You have somewhere else you need to be, just say the word.”
“I’ve come across a couple of acts I’d like to sign, sure.” Felix shrugged as if they didn’t matter much. “One’s singing in a club in New York, another group out of Orlando. There’re...possibilities.”
And Felix was all about possibilities. “I’m not going to begrudge you needing to move on,” Chance said. “I’d never want to stand in your way.”
Losing his agent certainly didn’t hold much appeal, especially without another one showing any interest. And no one would as long as he didn’t have anything new to offer. Felix had been his only agent, and traversing this crazy music business had never been on the top of Chance’s to-do list. Then again, anything was better than being stuck back on the family ranch, saddling horses, baling hay and mucking out stalls while his dreams died a silent death. Maura had always been the one to believe in him, encourage him. Understand him.
Other than his grandmother Dorothy, Big E’s first wife, who had bought him his first guitar—a guitar his grandfather had ripped out of Chance’s hands after Dorothy left and Chance declared his intention of leaving ranch life behind. How Big E thought taking away the one thing that brought Chance any happiness would punish anyone other than Chance was beyond him. Then again, Big E had considered Chance’s dreams a phase he’d outgrow. Without his brothers’ support, the wedge between Chance and his family had grown too big to overcome. Which was why ten years away didn’t feel nearly long enough.
“Maybe we should talk about this inside,” Felix said with a bit of a cringe on his face as he gestured to the dressing-room door.
“Oh, hey, Chance! Great show!” Greg Kennedy, owner of Tuned Up, one of the lesser known but better respected dive bars in downtown Los Angeles, darted down the stage stairs and headed for him. His compliment sounded forced, even to Chance’s tone-deaf ears. “Did your brother find you? I told him he could wait backstage for you.”
Chance froze. “My brother?” Every teenage insecurity slammed back at him like a slingshot. “Which brother?” Please don’t let it be Ty. Please don’t let it be...
“Which one?” Greg chuckled. “That’s right, I forgot you have four. I think his name was—”
Chance jumped back as the door swung open. “Ty.”
“What’s going on, baby brother?” That twinkle-eyed grin was always the first thing anyone noticed about Chance’s twin. That and the way he could charm the stickers off a cactus with a wink and a smile. That his brother appeared to have traded in his tailored executive suit for more cowboy-friendly attire set every warning bell in Chance’s head to clanging. Nothing good ever came of a Blackwell brother showing up. “Been a while.” Ty aimed that smile of his at the almost five-year-old in his arms.
“Daddy! It’s Uncle Ty! See?” Rosie, all bouncy red curls, freckled nose and skinny arms, patted her hands against Tyler’s cheeks as she blew a raspberry. “He’s funny, Daddy! Just like you!”
“Just like me, huh?” As disappointed as Chance was in Felix’s reaction, and as irritated as he was by his brother’s unexpected arrival, everything about his beautiful Rosie made him smile. “Where’s Claudia?” Chance handed his guitar to Felix before he reached for his little girl. The instant she settled in his arms, his pulse calmed. His world righted itself. He could breathe again.
“I’m here!” The graduate student from UCLA who had been Rosie’s nanny for the last year leaned over to peek and wave from behind Tyler. “Tyler was just telling us all about your ranch in Montana. It sounds amazing.”
“A ranch with horsies and cows, Daddy,” Rosie told him with a firm nod. “And Uncle Ty says there are kitties and a dog and a goat named Billy. And when I come visit I get to learn to ride and maybe even rope! But I will need boots. I would like pink boots, please. When can we go visit the kitties and dog, Daddy?”
Chance patted his daughter on the back of her purple shirt and stifled the familiar urge to strangle his brother. “Why don’t you let me talk to Uncle Ty about that? Claudia? Would you mind taking Rosie out for a bit? Maybe you can listen to the next band. Felix will go with you.” The last thing he needed, or wanted, was for his two worlds—however detached he was from one of them—to collide. “Just hang on for a sec.”
Chance pushed past his brother and ducked into the room. He rummaged through one of Rosie’s bags and pulled out her pink headphones. Like a seasoned pro, Rosie snatched them and plunked them over her ears.
“Okay, Daddy?” she yelled.
Chance laughed and nodded. “Go with Claudia, okay?” He set her on her feet, tugged up her jeans, which were too short in the legs and too big in the butt, and exchanged his daughter for the guitar. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Okay.” Felix didn’t look convinced as Rosie grabbed his hand. Claudia followed with an expression of uncertainty on her round face. “But we still have to talk about this.”
“Looking forward to it.” Chance set down his guitar, watched as Rosie skipped her way between his agent and nanny and quietly, slowly, closed the door. “What are you doing here, Ty?”
“If you answered your phone once in a while this might not be such a surprise.” Ty dropped down into the ripped, green faux-leather sofa that was wedged tightly between the walls. “Man, this place is a hole. I thought showbiz was supposed to be glamorous.”
“It can be.” But starting over meant starting at the bottom and it didn’t get more bottom than where Chance was standing at the moment. “Out with it already. What’s Big E done now?” He busied himself gathering up the books and games strewn about that Claudia and Rosie had occupied themselves with during his show. Right now all he wanted was the safe, quiet surroundings of the small two-bedroom bungalow he called home.
“I’d fill you in on the details.” Ty sighed. “But you told your boy Felix you would only be a few minutes. You need to come back, Chance. You need to come home.”
His stomach pitched. “I don’t think I do.” And the ranch had never felt like home. Not since their parents died.
“Do you really think I’d have flown all the way out here, left my beautiful bride-to-be with those brothers of ours, if I didn’t think this was important?”
“I don’t really know what to think about any of you.” Ty engaged? The idea still had the power to render him speechless. “I’m the black sheep, remember?” He jammed Clyde, Rosie’s worn, crazy-eyed stuffed monster into her rainbow backpack. “The last place I belong is on the Blackwell Family Ranch.”
“Whether you think you belong there or not, it’s your home, Chance. And like it or not, we’re your family. We need you.”
The Blackwell brothers needed him? Chance got to his feet and faced his brother. “What’s wrong? Is Big E dying? Do you need me to sing at the funeral? Oh.” Chance snapped his fingers. “No, wait. I forgot. Last thing our grandfather would want is to ever hear me sing. You were never one for barrel racing, Ty. Out with it.”
“Jon and Ben want to sell the ranch.”
“Good. Great.” One less thing to have to ever think about. “Fabulous. Enjoy whatever cash you get out of it.” He’d relinquished any hope of seeing Blackwell money long ago. As far as he knew, Big E had disinherited him the second Chance eloped with Maura Montgomery.
“Ethan and I don’t want to sell,” Ty added.
Had stubbornness not kept Chance on his feet, he might have passed out. “I’m sorry, what? You don’t want to sell. You. The Blackwell brother who had one foot over the property line the second he could walk?” Had Chance stepped off stage and into an alternate reality? He sat in the only other chair in the claustrophobic space. “This ought to be good. Why don’t you want to sell?”
Ty shrugged, stretched out his legs. “It’s our legacy. It’s Big E’s legacy. And we’ve made some really good progress with the guest-ranch aspect of the business. It’s picking up with all of us working together. Plus Hadley’s nuts about the place. FYI, we couldn’t have done much without Katie. She’s been amazing to work with. Girl knows just about everything there is about ranching, especially our ranch.”
“Katie’s still there?” Chance shouldn’t have been surprised to hear his sister-in-law hadn’t moved away. She and Maura had been raised on that ranch. It was as much the Montgomerys’ home as the Blackwells’. “Guess Maura was right. She always said Katie would never leave that place.” Thinking of his late wife’s kid sister brought up memories Chance honestly wasn’t ready to deal with.
“Yeah, well, Lochlan’s getting up in years. He’s still our foreman, but it’s pretty much in name only. Katie’s picked up his slack to cover for her dad.” Ty ducked his head, but not before Chance caught the flash of concern on his brother’s face. “Lochlan’s sick, Chance. Katie’s tried to keep it quiet, telling us he’d gone to visit friends, but we all just found out. He’s fading. And, well, I know it’s none of my business, but he wants to see his granddaughter before he dies.”
“You’re right,” Chance snapped. “It’s not your business.” Dormant anger he’d long buried threatened to boil over. “That old man refused to see his own daughter when she was dying. Wouldn’t make the trip. Not even to say goodbye. He didn’t even take her calls.” It was the one thing that still kept Chance up at night. That he’d been unable to grant his dying wife’s final wish. Not that he’d been able to accomplish much over the phone, but between Maura and Rosie, he couldn’t leave. Stubborn son of a... “Would you like me to tell you what her father’s rejection did to her? Would you like me to tell you in excruciating detail how she cried for her father at the end?”
“I’m not even going to try to understand that one, Chance.” Ty shook his head and Chance was relieved to see a flash of sympathy come across his brother’s face. “And I’m certainly not going to excuse it. Not even Katie can.”
“Ah.” Chance nodded. “So that’s what this is about. Katie sent you to plead Lochlan’s case. You know I wouldn’t put it past the old man to have put her up to it.”
“Clearly you haven’t seen Katie in a while. She doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to. And for the record, no, she didn’t put me up to this. I can tell you I’ve caught her on more than one occasion looking at those pictures you send her of Rosie. Might be smart of you to remember that while you lost your wife, she lost her sister. Pictures and videos aren’t any substitute for holding that little girl in her arms.”
“She lost her sister when Lochlan disowned Maura for marrying me. Because she walked away from everything Lochlan planned for her.” Chance held up his hands. “If that’s the reason you came all the way here—”
“It’s not that. It’s not only that,” Ty corrected. “We need your vote.”
Tyler wasn’t making any sense. “My vote for what, exactly?”
“For what happens to the ranch. We’re tied, which means it’s up to you. So let’s set aside the opportunity you have to be the bigger person and let an old man go to his death in peace. How about you come back long enough to help me keep this ranch where it belongs? In the Blackwell family.”
CHAPTER TWO (#u6b45426c-372b-5bdd-8dc3-3e9c7797c401)
“OOH, DADDY! LOOK! Horsies! They’re everywhere!” Rosie’s excited squeal from the back seat of the minivan announced his daughter was wide-awake. After four days on the road—because making the twenty-hour trek from LA in one stretch would have been a recipe for disaster—he was ready for a break. Given Rosie’s earsplitting tantrum at the motel last night, he wasn’t the only one.
Not that Falcon Creek, Montana, was going to give him anything close to a respite. Driving through town had already been like sliding through a time portal. Near as he could tell, nothing had changed. Other than a new coat of paint on the diner and new planks on the walkways. A shiny new sign over Brewster’s. Sure there were some new businesses and shops and, undoubtedly, new people. Everything else... Exactly. The. Same.
“Do you see the horsies, Daddy? Oh, they’re so pretty. Can I ride one, please, Daddy?”
“I think they’re a bit too big for you, Bug.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. His heart swelled at the excitement shining in his little girl’s eyes. “But I bet Aunt Katie will be able to find you the perfect pony.” Katie had always been magic with horses.
“Oo-o-oh, a pony.” Rosie rolled her head against the back of her car seat and kicked her pink-booted feet against the back of the passenger seat. “I’ll get my very own pony?”
“We’ll have to see.” Chance winced as the headache throbbing in the back of his head shifted to his temples. He’d run out of coffee—and thus, caffeine—about two hundred miles ago, and judging by the ache in his jaw, he’d grind his teeth to dust before they reached the ranch. “For as long as we’re here at least, I think we can work something out.” Chance shifted his attention back to the endless dirt road.
He slammed his foot on the brake.
Rosie squealed as if they’d just taken a dip on a roller coaster. Chance’s hands gripped the steering wheel as his heart hammered in his chest. The iconic gateway to the Blackwell Family Ranch loomed overhead. Its rusted, weathered sign—nearly as old as the ranch itself—welcomed visitors and guests.
And nearly had Chance turning around and heading home.
Nausea churned in his stomach. What was he doing here?
“Do that again, Daddy!” Rosie ordered.
“Once was enough.” He powered down his window and allowed himself his first breath of Montana air in more than a decade. The combination of pristine oxygen, green grass and leftover moisture from last night’s storm hung slightly tinged with manure and hay. Or maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him. It had taken him years to forget the smell of the ranch, as if it had seeped into his blood the day he’d been born. He shifted the minivan into Park and unhooked his belt.
“Are we here?” Rosie shifted in her seat, turning her head so fast her red curls slapped her cheeks. “Are we at Grampy’s?”
“Almost.” He never should have told her they were going to visit her grandfather. It seemed every word out of Rosie’s mouth in the two weeks since Ty had delivered his invitation of doom had been to ask about Maura’s father. Every word was like a knife to Chance’s heart.
He couldn’t care less what Lochlan Montgomery thought of him. But if Ty was right, if the old man was dying, Lochlan deserved to see his only grandchild once before he met his maker. If for no other reason than it was what Maura would want.
But if the old man did or said one thing that gave Rosie a moment’s sadness or despair...
Chance slipped out of the van, his sneakered feet hitting the dirt road with enough force that dust immediately covered him. The silence hurt his ears as it shouted its welcome. He stretched, groaned and waited for his muscles to stop screaming at him as he tried to shake feeling back into his extremities.
The midafternoon sun was still moving toward its peak, but was beating down hard enough to remind him that he—and Rosie—would be needing hats. He’d left his Stetson—the one Big E had given him on high school graduation—on his bed when he left the ranch for good. No doubt one of his brothers had found use for it. It would fit one of them better, anyway. “You want to get out for a while?” He rounded the minivan and slid the door open, only to find Rosie standing on the floorboards. She grinned up at him. Chance bit back a sigh as he reached down and picked her up and got bopped in the face by Clyde. “When did you start unbuckling your belt?”
Rosie grinned and hugged Clyde against her chest. “Surprise!”
“You are full of them.” He pressed a kiss against the side of her head and lowered her to the ground. “Let’s not do that again, okay?” The second her feet hit the dirt, he swore the earth quaked. She darted to the fence line and stared out at the endless pasture dotted with horses and cattle.
Chance lost his breath. His little girl barely reached the middle section of barbed wire, but the sight of her standing before the Montana sky, the Rockies framing her in purple-hazed perfection, her new jeans and bright yellow shirt shining and the sunlight catching against her hair, he wondered where the time had gone. Had it really been almost five years since the doctors had first set her in his trembling hands? Chance took a long, deep breath. Whatever the next few days, weeks or years brought, this was what he needed to remember. This moment. This sight.
Not that he was already counting the minutes until he could leave. Frustration edged its way around the calm. What was he thinking, letting Ty goad him into coming back? There was nothing for him here. Nothing except bitter memories of a place where he never belonged and a family he’d never fit into. Forget being a square peg in a round hole. For Chance, he’d always felt like a banjo in an orchestra. How many times had his brothers and grandfather teased him that he was, in fact, the worst cowboy to ever saddle a horse?
Now, as irony often snagged the last word, it would be up to him what happened with the place? As far as he was concerned, they should sell to the highest bidder and be done with it. It would ease the financial pressures building up on him and possibly help him decide which school Rosie would attend next year. Although Felix had high hopes this place would reignite that creativity he’d been thirsting for.
Yep. He stared out at the emptiness of the land. They needed to sell.
Which meant this was going to be a very short visit.
Besides, he had three weeks before Felix was back from making the rounds on his search for new talent. If Chance had new material by then, his star just might rise again. If he didn’t...
His career would be over.
The land stared back at him, accusing. He didn’t want the memories. Not of his brothers, or the parents he barely remembered, not to mention his grandfather, who had only berated or ignored Chance’s interest in music. He certainly didn’t want to think of Maura and how she was as ingrained here as much as she was in his heart.
But it was the thought of his late wife that loosened the tension in his jaw. For an instant, he could all but see her, red hair flowing behind her, as she rode Fairweather, her favorite horse, across the rolling hills, her laughter ringing in the air like wind chimes in a summer storm. Huh.
Chance blinked and pulled out the notebook he kept close at hand. He scribbled down the thoughts, on the off chance they might lead to something productive. Something that would ease Felix’s doom-and-gloom protestations that Chance’s career might never resurge.
“Daddy, look!” Rosie’s cry shot him out of his reverie. He looked up to find Rosie pointing to a horse and rider in the distance headed toward them. A smaller animal trotted alongside in a scene straight out of a Zane Grey novel.
Chance joined Rosie at the fence, his pulse hammering as he debated which brother would be the first to welcome him home. Not that he expected much of a welcome. Jon had his own organic spread, the JB Bar Ranch, nearby. Ethan was just getting his veterinary practice off the ground. Ben was currently lawyering with his new wife, Rachel, and living at the Double T, and Ty...well, Ty knew better than to be the welcoming committee.
As the horse drew closer, the pounding of hoofbeats vibrated across the land. If he squinted, he could make out the rider’s features. Along the edges of the worn tan hat, a flash of red caught the sun. His mouth went dry as the rider came to a halt on the other side of the fence. For a long moment, they stared at one another, Chance nearly falling into the bottomless green eyes so reminiscent of Rosie’s and Maura’s. But while the color was the same, the independent, determined spark could only belong to one person.
“Hello, Katie.” Chance rested his hand on Rosie’s curl-topped head as his heart skipped a beat.
“Chance.” Her smile seemed a bit strained, her freckled face a bit pale, and her hands gripped the reins hard enough that her knuckles had gone white. Apparently he wasn’t the only one apprehensive about his homecoming. The black-and-white Australian cattle dog woofed and quirked its head as if suggesting introductions were in order.
“Aunt Katie?” Rosie looked up at him.
Chance nodded and drew Rosie against him as Katie Montgomery bounded off her horse and removed her leather gloves. She stuffed them in the back pocket of her snug, worn jeans and walked toward them. “Well, who do we have here?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned over to peer closer at Rosie, the trepidation on her face fading as she looked at her niece in person for the first time.
“It’s us, Aunt Katie!” Rosie broke free of Chance’s hold and darted forward. “It’s me, Rosie and Daddy!”
“Careful, Little Miss!” Katie chided as Rosie wedged herself under the bottom line of wire.
Katie gave Chance a quick glance before she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms tight around his daughter. “Oh, Rosie.” Katie dropped kisses on both of Rosie’s cheeks before hugging her again. “I’m so happy to see you. I’m so glad you’re here. Careful, Hip.” She brushed a quick hand over the dog’s back in reassurance.
Chance saw the tears in Katie’s eyes before she squeezed them shut. She may have had her older sister’s eyes and the same fire-red hair, but the resemblance ended there. Where Maura had been soft around the edges, girly, flirty, tall and willowy, Katie was compact, edgy, curvy and all cowgirl. Maura’s dreams had been focused on being anywhere but Montana, while Katie had been firmly situated on Blackwell land, working alongside her father for as far back as Chance could remember. She loved this place just as much—and probably more—than any Blackwell brother ever had. She’d bled, sweated and worked for it. When they sold the place, he hoped the new owners would realize the prize they had in her and keep her on.
But for now, all he could do was watch as Katie and Rosie giggled and hugged and giggled some more. To see his daughter this giddy made the excruciating drive worth it.
“You’re as beautiful as you are in your pictures.” Katie rocked Rosie back and forth until the little girl squirmed. Rosie knocked Katie’s hat off her head as Katie got to her feet and swung Rosie around in a circle. Katie’s dog barked and hopped along with them.
“Daddy said you’d be happy to see me.” Rosie looked back at Chance when she was back on her feet. “You said so, right, Daddy?”
“I did.” Chance barely recognized his own voice. Seeing them together, he couldn’t help but imagine the same scene with Maura. Maura, who had died just before Rosie turned three. Maura, who, once the chemo had taken its talon-sharp hold, hadn’t been able to swing her daughter in her arms or smother a giggling little girl with kisses. But Katie wasn’t Maura. As his lips pulled into a wide, genuine smile, the regret melted away. She wasn’t Maura. No one ever would be. And that, he realized, was okay.
“Welcome home.” Katie grinned, but he suspected it was more for Rosie than him.
He glanced at his minivan, which had yet to cross the border onto the family property. “Not quite.”
“Close enough.” Katie shrugged. “Ty wasn’t sure when you’d be arriving. Or if you’d show up at all.”
“I said I’d come.” Chance cleared his throat. “Unlike some people, I keep my word when I give it.”
“Should have known you’d arrive with your foot in your mouth.” Irritation flashed across Katie’s sun-kissed round face before she turned her attention back to Rosie. “Things aren’t always so cut-and-dried, are they? Let’s see those boots, Little Miss.” Katie stretched out her arms, still holding Rosie’s hands, as if afraid to let go. “You are all cowgirled up, aren’t you?”
“Daddy bought them for me.” Rosie kicked one foot in the air, then the other. “I told him they had to be pink. I like pink. Do you like pink?”
“I like pink just fine,” Katie said with a bit of a snort. “And if you’re planning on staying at the main house, I think you’re going to find it suits you perfectly. Unless you made other arrangements?” She glanced back at Chance.
“No arrangements.” Chance shook his head. “We packed the car and headed out. Given what Ty told us about all the changes to the place, I figured there would be a free bed or two.”
“More than that. Little Miss here can have her pick of rooms if she’d like. Not sure you’ll recognize yours.”
Meaning Big E had probably turned his room into a smoking room or bowling alley. He’d have bet good money his grandfather would have done his best to erase any trace of Chance’s existence once Chance left. Guess he was right.
“And if you don’t like the main house,” Katie continued, “you can always stay with me and Dad. I made up Maura’s room for her.” Katie didn’t blink as she spoke, as if gauging Chance’s reaction.
“Grampy!” Rosie squealed. “I have a room at Grampy’s house?”
“Of course you do. You always have had,” Katie added with a pointed look at Chance.
“The main house will do just fine.” No way would he ever sleep under the same roof as Lochlan Montgomery. Nor was he going to be made to feel guilty about not coming back before now. Lochlan had gone out of his way to make certain Chance was not welcome in his home. In that, Chance was more than content to oblige him. “Rosie, how about you get back in the car? We can meet Aunt Katie down at the house.”
“Or she can ride back with me.” Katie stooped down in front of Rosie and tweaked her nose. “What do you say, Little Miss? You want your first ride on a horse?”
“Oh, Daddy, please!” Rosie asked in that almost whining tone of hers.
Chance looked to the horse standing nearby, its shining gold coat glistening in the sun. He hadn’t been kidding earlier when he’d suggested a pony. Personally he’d been hoping for more of a miniature version when the time came.
“Guess we’d best find out if she takes after me or her mother when it comes to horses.” For Rosie’s sake, he hoped it wasn’t him.
“She’ll be fine,” Katie said. Chance met her challenging gaze, as if she was expecting him to say no just to spite her. Daring him to do so in front of his daughter only stirred up old resentments he’d never attributed to Maura’s kid sister.
Katie Montgomery, however, was no longer a kid. She was a fully grown woman who had spent more time on and around horses than Chance had spent walking. She looked every bit the professional ranch foreman her father had been. In fact, Chance would bet she was far more capable than Lochlan had ever been, especially in recent years.
“Daddy, can I go with Aunt Katie, please?”
He was reluctant to let Rosie out of his sight, but this was one of the reasons they’d come back to Falcon Creek. For Rosie to meet and get to know her mother’s family. For Rosie to get acquainted with her aunts and uncles and cousins. “Sure, Bug. You want Clyde to go with me?”
“Yes, please. Daddy says it’s always polite to say ‘please.’” She raced over and smacked Clyde into Chance’s hand.
“Your daddy’s a smart man,” Katie agreed. “Now hold on! Good girl, Hip.” Katie raced after Rosie when the four-year-old made a beeline for the horse as fast as her little legs would carry her. The horse dropped its head and let out a chuff, as Hip placed herself in front of Rosie. “Good girl, Hip.” Katie gave the dog a good pat. “Let’s get the introductions out of the way. Rosie, this is Hip. Short for Hippolyta. Hold out your hand, Rosie. Let her smell you so she can remember you’re a friend.”
“’Kay.” Fearless Rosie stuck her hand out right under the dog’s nose. Hip gave a good sniff, then angled to shove her nose up under Rosie’s hand as if demanding a pet. “Rosie, Hip. Hip, Rosie.”
“Her nose is cold.” Rosie’s eyes went wide.
“There you go. You’re friends, now,” Katie laughed.
“Hippo!” Rosie threw her arms up and lunged in for a hug.
“No!”
Chance nearly dove through the fence as Katie lunged for Rosie, but Hip let out what Chance could only describe as a sigh and let Rosie wrap her arms around her neck and squeezed.
Hand against her heart, Katie held her other palm out to Chance. “It’s okay. Whew.” That she appeared so relieved was more concerning to Chance than he liked. “You surprise me, girl.” She crouched and looked her dog directly in the eye. She sank her hand into Hip’s fur and rubbed. “I thought you didn’t like being called Hippo.”
Chance heard the dog growl in the back of her throat.
“Rosie, come here, please.” Katie pulled her away from the dog and motioned for Hip to stay. The dog blinked big black eyes at them as if to ask where they were going. “Say ‘Hippo’ again, please, Rosie.”
“Hippo!” Rosie giggled as Hip dropped to the ground and stuck her butt in the air, wagging her tail back and forth.
“Chance, would you try, please?”
“Uh, sure.” Chance cleared his throat. “Hippo.”
Hip shot back up, stood on all fours at attention and barked, then growled.
“Unbelievable.” Katie chuckled and shook her head. “First she gets herself a goat boyfriend, now this. Okay, Rosie, I guess for you only, it’s...um, you know.”
“Hippo!” Rosie doubled over with laughter as the dog came over and jumped into her arms to lick her face. “Doggie kisses!”
“They are the best kisses,” Katie assured her. “You still up for that ride?”
“Yes.” Rosie gripped the dog’s fur in her hand and looked up at her aunt with such admiration Chance’s chest constricted.
“We need a few bits of information before you go climbing up there. Riding a horse isn’t just for fun. It’s also a responsibility.” She looked over her shoulder at Chance. “We’ll meet you back at the house in a little bit. I need to go check on the ranch hands fixing fence line out along the south pasture. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
Chance nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” Feeling as if he was leaving his heart in the pasture, he forced himself to return to the minivan. Seconds later, he started the vehicle and stared down the road. Before he changed his mind, he floored it and shot forward under the Blackwell Family Ranch sign. And headed down the road to home.
* * *
CHANCE BLACKWELL HAD come home to Falcon Creek.
Katie checked her saddle, cinching the stirrups, and stalled as her mind raced in time to her pulse. Life hadn’t always been kind since he’d been gone, but the years looked good on him. The boyish good looks that had girls spinning in their saddles had transformed into solid, handsome features. Along with his charm, he had a complete arsenal of weapons to use in all that show-business stuff of his.
Of all the brothers, Chance had always stood out with his too-long dark hair and equally dark eyes that she suspected saw more than most. He hadn’t been as rough-and-tumble as the other boys, who’d teased Chance that he’d been switched at birth, given his less than enthusiastic proclivities toward anything ranch-related.
Technically Chance was still her brother-in-law, meaning she shouldn’t be noticing the way his jeans fit or the way his blue button-down shirt molded over a toned torso and arms. All she should care about was the love and pride that shone in his eyes whenever he looked at his little girl. She attributed the fluttering in her chest and knots in her belly to the continued stress over being caught between the brothers and their grandfather, Big E, who was pulling so many strings he may as well start a new career as a puppet master.
She should know. Big E had been pulling her strings for the past six months. Dread tightened her throat. If she wasn’t careful, one of those strings was going to snap. And Katie was going to find herself pitched out of the Blackwell Ranch—and family—forever.
Which was why it was far less stressful to think about Chance Blackwell. She was banking on the fact that his good memories of the ranch would outweigh the bad and he’d side with the brothers who wanted to keep the place. Not only because she couldn’t imagine this place not being owned by a Blackwell, but also because she needed this job. She was this close to officially being named foreman. Her father had lived his entire life on this ranch. Moving him now, when he had so little time left, would break both their hearts. And send Lochlan Montgomery into his grave.
Of course, she and the ranch would be in a better position if Big E had given her any control over the ranch’s finances. But no, the old coot couldn’t imagine a woman running his family ranch, which was ironic since that’s exactly what had been going on for the past two and a half years, as controlling every aspect of the business fell in line with his plans to get his grandsons back where he wanted them.
When it came to manipulation, there were few who excelled more than Elias Blackwell.
And no one else excelled at unnerving Montgomery women more than Big E’s grandson Chance.
Given how unsettling the idea of Chance returning had been, she thought she was managing pretty well so far. Of course, she’d been working overtime to make certain her father didn’t hear the rumors. The last thing she needed was to have Lochlan diving even further into a whiskey bottle in the hopes of drowning the never-forgotten resentment over the fact that his older daughter had chosen Chance over her family.
Seeing Chance in person again after all these years sent a tidal wave of memories and emotions sweeping through Katie. She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled against the pulls of happiness, grief and hope. She’d talked to him over the years, of course. Sometimes every day when Maura had been sick, then less frequently as Chance had settled into life as a widower and single father. Communication soon dwindled to text messages and photo exchanges, an occasional phone call with her niece, who had quite a lot to say for a four-year-old. And Katie hung on to every word as if they were priceless pearls.
“Aunt Katie, are we going to ride?”
Katie looked down at little Rosie, who was running her tiny hands down Starlight’s flank just as Katie had taught her. The second she’d seen Rosie her heart had nearly exploded in her chest. As much as she’d dreamed of holding Maura’s little girl, those dreams hadn’t come close to the reality. It hadn’t taken more than ten seconds to realize that Rosamund Maura Blackwell had Katie wrapped around every finger Rosie possessed. And she always would.
The determined expression on Rosie’s freckled face told Katie two things: one, Rosie was indeed her mother’s daughter, and two, Chance Blackwell had both his hands full. “We are indeed.” Katie bent down and gripped Rosie around the waist. She’d been teaching kids to ride since she was ten, but she couldn’t recall any lesson feeling quite this personal before. “You remember everything I told you?”
“Uh-huh.” Rosie nodded so hard her curls bounced. She gasped as Katie lifted her up to the saddle, but she didn’t squeal. While Starlight was a very docile horse, Katie had seen the horse twitch at Rosie’s high-pitched excitement over Hip.
As instructed, Rosie grabbed hold of the saddle horn and inched herself forward so Katie could climb on behind her. Boots solidly in the stirrups, she settled Rosie and reached around her for the reins, which she trailed through Rosie’s hands to give her a sense of control. Katie made a clicking sound and kicked her heels against Starlight’s flank and off they went, walking, rather than trotting at Katie’s normal speed.
“We’re riding!” Rosie cried in between bouts of laughter. “I’m riding a horse!”
“You are!” Katie kept the reins loose in her hands against Rosie’s hips, but she could tell, as the little girl shifted in the saddle and leaned into the movement of the horse, that Rosie was a natural.
Not her father’s daughter in this respect, for sure. Katie had to pinch her lips together to stop from laughing as she recalled Chance’s multiple attempts at riding. She knew what his problem was: he didn’t trust horses. The trouble was, the horses sensed it, so whenever he approached, they’d do their best to get away. He’d been bucked off so many saddles the ranch hands had started calling him Ricochet. Something told Katie that wouldn’t be a problem with Rosie. She might be Chance Blackwell’s daughter, but Rosie was also a Montgomery. And Montgomerys lived their lives in the saddle.
“Are there lots of horses to ride?” Rosie asked.
“Lots and lots,” Katie assured her. “And your uncles and aunts have animals, too. Cows and dogs and cats. Your uncle Ethan has a rabbit named Coconut and a hedgehog named Pixie.”
“Pixie,” Rosie laughed. “I want to meet them.”
“I’m sure you will. And, of course, there’s the zoo.”
“You have a zoo?” Rosie turned her head and Katie saw her eyes go wide.
“A petting zoo, yes.” Katie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The whole petting-zoo idea had been Zoe’s—she was Big E’s most recent ex-wife. And while Katie had been resistant to the idea initially, she’d quickly jumped on board when she understood what a draw it would be for guests. Besides, she’d developed an affinity for the creatures in residence. She glanced down at Hip, who trotted along beside them, tongue hanging out, occasionally glancing up at the two of them as if to confirm they were still on board. “We have rabbits and llamas, and there’s Billy of course.” Hip barked. “Hip and Billy are quite close,” Katie chuckled. “You’ll see when we get back to the house.”
“I love animals.” Rosie sighed. “I’ve been wanting a kitten for the longest time.”
“Did your dad say no?”
“I didn’t ask yet. I heard him and Uncle Felix talking and Daddy doesn’t have a lot of money. Daddy says he only has enough to feed two mouths.”
Panic gripped Katie’s insides and slid to her toes. Chance had money issues? If that was the case, he’d probably be leaning toward selling the ranch rather than keeping it. Given his history with the place, it was going to take a lot of convincing—or a minor miracle—to get him to change his mind.
“Uncle Ty said there are lots of kittens.” Rosie stated. “Maybe I can have one?”
“Well, they were kittens. Mostly we have cats now.” The last thing she needed to do was alienate Chance by giving his daughter a pet she’d have to leave behind. Especially considering she needed to find a way to convince him that selling was the absolute worst thing he could do.
“Does that mean ‘we’ll see’?” Rosie slumped in the saddle. “That’s what Daddy always says when he means no.”
“Well, for me, it means maybe. And you know what? Your grandpa and I have a cat at our place. Snicklefrits. You can come play with him whenever you’d like.” Not that Snicklefrits had been played with much over the years. He mostly shadowed her father, and that meant moving from one chair to another depending on the sunrise, sunset or what was on television.
“Snicklefrits.” Rosie giggled. “That’s a crazy name for a cat.”
“Well, the cat’s kind of crazy. I think he’ll like you.” Katie glanced down at Hip. “Something tells me you have a way with animals. You ready to try a gallop? Go a little faster?”
“Yes, please.” Rosie nodded and bounced higher in the saddle. “I want to go as fast as we can!”
“Well, hang on, then.” Katie kicked Starlight once more. Seconds later, Katie pushed her worries aside and lost herself in the sound of the wind rushing in her ears.
And the joyous laughter from her niece in her arms.
CHAPTER THREE (#u6b45426c-372b-5bdd-8dc3-3e9c7797c401)
THE WINDING ROAD to the main house gave Chance the kick in the pants he needed to get his head on straight. Wallowing over having to come home because his grandfather was messing with the family—again—wasn’t going to do anyone, least of all Rosie, any good. Whatever the circumstances, she deserved a great trip and visit with family. It wasn’t as if all the memories about this place were bad. When it came down to it, he loved his brothers. He might not know them all as well as he would like, but they were blood. Even a decade away couldn’t negate that.
They’d seen each other through a lot, including the death of their parents and a string of stepgrandmothers that made Big E look like a serial groom. Chance’s conversations with his grandfather had dwindled over the years, something the old man must have kept to himself given each of his brothers had called him in the last weeks to ask if he’d heard from Big E. As if. It was difficult to talk to someone about your life when they made no secret of their disapproval. At least Rosie gave them something to talk about without getting into a knock-down-drag-out about when Chance was going to put this music silliness aside and come home.
“Well, I guess you finally got your wish, old man.” Chance parked the minivan around the side of the house he’d grown up in. The paint had been refreshed—white with pale green shutters. The front porch had served as both haven and escape on more than one occasion. He popped open the back and pulled out his guitar case, then tucked a carved wooden box under his arm before grabbing Rosie’s Hello Kitty suitcase. The sooner he got his daughter settled in the house, the easier it would be to get her into a routine. The sound of crunching tires behind him had him closing up and heading around the corner to the front porch.
A slow smile spread across his face as he watched his oldest brother, Jon, climb out. The dog that hopped out behind him looked as if he was used to being part of the welcoming committee. A ranch man from the tips of his booted toes to the hair on his hat-covered head, Jonathan Blackwell looked every bit the cowboy on a mission. And was a reminder of what Chance had done his best to leave behind.
“Look what the storm blew in.” Jon pushed back his hat and angled a smile at Chance that made the last ten years melt away like butter in a cast-iron skillet. “Figured a lot might have changed with you, but Hello Kitty is a new look.”
“A man’s only got so many choices when it comes to his little girl’s luggage. As you well know.” Chance set the case and his guitar on the steps and embraced his brother. The hearty back slaps they gave one another could be considered the first in what would no doubt be many competitions during his visit. “Good to see you, bro.”
“You, too.” Jon gave him another smack before dropping his hands on Chance’s shoulders. “It’s been too long.” He gave him a hard shake. They’d never seen eye to eye—at least not literally—before Chance had left, but they did now. And Chance recognized the uncertain expression on his brother’s face. He’d been expecting it. And dreading it. “I’m so sorry about Maura, Chance.”
“Yeah.” Chance had finally reached the stage where the mention of his wife’s name didn’t make his heart seize. His hold tightened on the box under his arm. “I know. I appreciated the letters. And the flowers. And the pictures.” Jon had sent care packages for weeks after Maura’s death, including photos of all of them growing up on the ranch. Chance had started an album and framed a number of them for Rosie. They had helped. “Thanks for understanding about not coming out.”
“As long as you know any one of us would have been there in a heartbeat.” Jon squeezed his shoulders. “All you had to do was ask.”
There hadn’t been any point in his brothers—and extended family—descending on him. There hadn’t been a memorial service. Maura had donated her body for cancer research and once he’d received her remains, a service felt like moving backward. Not to mention he hadn’t decided what to do with her ashes. Besides, by that time he had an almost three-year-old to focus on and even though he had no doubt Rosie was aware something was wrong, it didn’t change her demands or her needs one iota.
“I had Rosie,” Chance said. “She was all I needed.” His little girl had saved his life. “So who’s this?”
He bent down and offered his hand to the dog, who trotted right over and gave instant approval.
“Trout. My shadow.” Jon chuckled.
“He’s great.” Chance scrubbed his hands into the dog’s fur and earned a friend for life. “Has, um...?” Chance cleared his throat and stood up to retrieve his guitar. “Has there been any word from Big E? Have we located him yet?”
“Nothing new since my last email.” Jon, a father of five-year-old twin girls himself, picked up Rosie’s suitcase without a second glance. “Gotta admit, there’s something that’s been bugging me about this from the start.” Jon scrubbed a hand across his whisker-stubbled chin. “At first I just thought it was Big E being Big E. Disappearing with Zoe like that. Going wherever the wind blows. But abandoning the ranch without making sure it could financially sustain itself, making things ten times more difficult on Katie than they should have been, kicking her to the curb without any warning...?” Jon shook his head. “I think Ben’s right. I think the old man’s finally lost it.”
“I would have thought tossing Zoe out on her, ah, ear, would prove just the opposite,” Chance said. Hearing their grandfather had dumped wife number five on the side of the road outside Las Vegas had seemed like karmic retribution given Zoe’s machinations.
“Ben isn’t exactly objective where Big E is concerned.” As if their lawyer brother and Big E didn’t have enough issues, Zoe had, only weeks before her marriage to their grandfather, been engaged to Ben. Their grandfather had been the culprit behind a lot of shenanigans over the years, but stealing Ben’s fiancée had been the last straw for the Blackwell brothers. You mess with one, you mess with all of them. Or so the family motto was supposed to go.
The sentiment had applied to Ben.
But not, it seemed, to Chance and his dreams.
“Where do you stand on selling the ranch?” Might as well start confirming the information Ty had previously provided.
“Honestly? I’m all for it.” Jon stepped in front of him and opened the front door. “I’ve got my hands full with the JB Bar, Lydia and the girls. I’m not inclined to push to save something Big E can’t be concerned with.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve got soon-to-be sisters-in-law to meet, don’t I? What was it Ty called Lydia? ‘Nanny Fantastic’? Seriously, dude, you’re marrying your girls’ nanny?”
Jon reached out and dragged Chance over the threshold. “You’re darned right I am. And when you meet her at dinner tomorrow night, you’ll understand why.” He moved back to close the door and watched as Chance took in the interior of their childhood home.
“What. The. Ever. Loving—” Chance couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. What he could do was blink. He had to in order to avoid going blind from the neon pinks, blaring whites and glittering silvers sparkling from nearly every inch of the two-story house. Glitter and sparkles and feathers and sequins. There weren’t any memories to be found. Anywhere. “I think I may throw up.”
“We have a special trough outside for that. It’s been bedazzled.” Jon smirked. “Zoe.”
“Yeah, well, who else?” Chance finally found the strength to move, but as he walked from the hall into the dining room, he nearly tripped over his feet. What the heck was that hanging from a ceiling? It was like a Muppet had been mounted as a chandelier. He shivered. This was what nightmares were made of. And he said that as the father of a pink-obsessed four-year-old. Make that four-and-three-quarters. “This might be too much even for Rosie.” At least he hoped so. Otherwise she’d be calling interior decorators once they got back to Los Angeles.
“Do I hear voices?” A young woman poked her head around the corner from the kitchen, her pretty, friendly face alight with curiosity and amusement. “If it isn’t two of the Blackwell brothers. You must be Chance. As you’re the only one I haven’t met yet.” She finished drying her hands on a dish towel and reached out to greet him. “I’m Hadley.”
“Ty wrangled you on to stay in this place, huh?” Chance said, keeping a leery eye out for his twin. “He around?”
“He’ll be back in a couple of days. Went into Bozeman with Ben to talk to a company about adding zip lines to our activities here.” Hadley’s smile was contagious. “And you know what they say. Fall in love with the man, fall in love with the land. As Jon can attest with Lydia. Welcome home.”
“Such as it is,” Chance said, then, seeing Jon’s disapproving look, shifted his attitude. “Nice to meet you, Hadley. Welcome to the family.”
“And such an interesting family it is.” Hadley’s eyes sparkled. “Did I hear you two talking about Big E? Are there plans in motion to finally get all this settled?”
“By ‘all this’ do you mean do we know if we’re going to keep this place, sell it or hope Big E comes back and resumes running it?” Jon asked. “Ah, I don’t know. Have we decided, Chance?”
“I’d like to know all the particulars before I cast my vote.” It was the right thing to say. But it wasn’t what he planned to do. The sooner they unloaded this place, the sooner he could stop worrying about money and being hounded about coming home. Make the break clean, final and profitable. That was his goal. “Ty’s made an initial argument about keeping it. I hear you’re a fan of the place, Hadley?”
“I am. I love it here.” If she was concerned about Chance holding her future in his hands, she didn’t say. “Come on back. I unearthed your mom’s old cookbook a few weeks ago. Just made some of her iced-tea lemonade. You want some?”
Chance’s stomach growled as if it had a memory. “Yeah.” The air whooshed out of him. How many pitchers had he watched her stir and pour in those early years. “Yeah, that would be great.” He followed her as if in some sort of trance. “This isn’t some kind of enhanced manipulation technique, is it?”
Jon jabbed an elbow into his back. Chance grunted.
“Not at all.” If Hadley was offended, she didn’t show it. “I’m trying to work as many Blackwell family elements into the business as possible. Also working on testing some of her recipes for the upcoming weddings. Grace’s mother and I have been going back and forth on choices. And don’t worry.” She set a frosty glass in front of him. “When I’m manipulating you, you’ll know about it.” She grinned before turning away.
“Touché, and noted.” Chance drank eagerly, not realizing how thirsty—or hungry—he was. Which no doubt meant Rosie was as well. The Golden Arches, apple slices and chicken nuggets were a lot of miles ago. “Don’t mean to be obnoxious. Been a long few days.”
“A four-day road trip with a four-year old.” Jon shuddered. “My sympathies. You could have made it easier by flying. One of us could have picked you up.”
“Rosie and I made stops along the way.” Chance took another drink to avoid admitting the truth. Even with the hotel stays and gasoline, it put him ahead in the budgeting department. A budget that would keep them in their house for the next six months. After that...?
“Speaking of Rosie, where is she? Don’t tell me she’s off roaming the place like her Uncle Ty used to.” Jon smiled and nudged his elbow.
“She’s with Katie.” Chance was already getting a little worried about letting his daughter go off on that monster of a horse with her aunt. Not that he didn’t trust Katie, but somehow it felt wrong sharing the responsibility of his daughter with anyone. It had been the two of them for so long, he wasn’t sure he knew how to share her. He didn’t know if he wanted to. “We made a quick stop at the turnoff to the ranch before heading down the main road. Katie was on her way to the south pasture.”
“She’s been so excited about seeing her,” Jon told him. “Glad you bit the bullet and came back. If for no other reason than to let her meet her aunt and grandfather in person.”
Chance avoided his brother’s disapproving gaze. He didn’t need a lecture, nor did he want one.
“Gen and Abby can’t wait to meet her. And their famous uncle. They have a surprise planned for tomorrow night.” Jon knocked his glass against Chance’s. “I have a feeling the terrible two are about to become the terrifying trio.”
“Bite your tongue,” Hadley said. “Your girls are angels.”
“They are now,” Jon chuckled. “You two get the after-Lydia product. If you’d like to hear tales of the before, just ask around town. You’ll get an earful.”
“When did we turn into the kind of men who sit around talking about their kids?” Granted, Chance preferred that topic over anything horse-related.
“And all girls no less,” Jon added. “If only Big E could hear us now. So you saw Katie. Everything okay there?”
“Sure.” Chance shrugged. Here it comes. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Hadley seemed inordinately concerned over a spot on the counter.
“First time you’ve been back since you ran off with her sister. That’s gotta be awkward.”
“For her or me?” Chance asked. “It is what it is. Nothing to be done about it.”
“Maybe something could have been done.” Jon pinned him with a stare. “Before it was too late.”
Chance’s knuckles went white around his glass.
“I think I’m going to take this upstairs.” Hadley scooted around the counter for Rosie’s bag. “Or at least take it to the stairs. Be nice, boys. One of you just got home. You need each other.” She patted Chance’s arm as she passed. “And blood would clash horribly with this tile.”
Chance watched her leave, doing his best to swallow his temper along with any words that might come back to bite him. “If you’re meaning to take Lochlan’s side in what happened, I’d advise you to keep your nose out of it.”
“I’ve always been on your side, Chance.” Jon sat back on the bar stool and studied him.
“Not from where I sit.” Chance finished his drink and carried his glass over to the sink. Had any of his brothers ever gone to bat for him with their grandfather? Had any of them ever defended his dreams or his desire to leave? But that wasn’t what this was about. This argument was about Maura and the pain her father had put her through when she was already in enough to kill her. “That bitter old man refused to talk to his daughter for ten years. Ten. Years.” The anger he’d fought so hard to bury surged back with the force of a tornado. “And why? Because she fell in love with me? Because she wanted something more than the legacy of the ranch her father lived for? Because she chose to leave this dead-end place rather than wither away and turn to dust like her sick mother did? Like everyone who stays here does?”
“Like Katie’s doing? Or me? Or my girls?” Jon arched an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Even for them, brothers with a penchant for knock-down-drag-outs, this conversation was devolving fast enough to break any record they had of a truce. “Your life, your decision. I don’t begrudge you or anyone else that. I gave Maura the option of staying. I told her I’d come back after taking my shot. I said we could make a long-distance thing work. But she wouldn’t hear of it. She wanted to leave. She wanted to go with me and live our dreams together. And I wasn’t about to tell her no.” As if she would have listened. Montgomery women cornered the market on stubbornness.
“I’m just saying the phone works both ways, little brother. She could have—”
“She did.” Chance slammed his fist on the counter. “Who do you think she called the day after we found out—” His breath caught in his chest and threatened to suffocate him. “The day after she was diagnosed. Maura wanted her father. She wanted the man who had held her as a child, the man who rocked her and told her everything was going to be okay. Even though we knew it wouldn’t be. Do you know what Lochlan did?” Chance rounded on his brother and felt relief at the shock on Jon’s face. “He hung up on her. So don’t you dare sit in judgment of me and my decisions. He broke his little girl’s heart. And for that I will never forgive him.”
* * *
“I’M HOT,” ROSIE whined and slumped against Katie as they crested the hill.
“I bet you are, Little Miss.” Katie pressed a kiss to Rosie’s head, an excuse to check and make sure she wasn’t getting overheated. “Ranching and riding is hard work. We need to get you a hat.” And about a gallon of sunblock. Fortunately the sun had been trapped behind clouds for most of their ride and Katie could provide enough protection against the rays.
“Are we going home now?”
“The main house is just down there.” Katie pointed to the two-story, weathered white house with green shutters sitting among the outcropping of buildings and the barns. Nearby, the guest cabins loomed, with more than thirty rooms, a dining hall and an activity facility. Checking in on the workers had taken a little longer than expected, which meant Rosie had gone from entertained to bored in about sixty seconds. Even Hip and Starlight hadn’t been enough to distract her. Katie should have known better: the last place an almost five-year-old would want to be was out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers and a seriously distracted aunt.
Katie wrapped an arm around Rosie and squeezed. She hadn’t been able to help it. Once she’d gotten a hold of Rosie, she couldn’t bear to let her go. Seeing as Chance was in a more amenable mood than she’d expected, she’d taken every advantage.
“I bet Hadley’s made some of her yummy lemonade. Do you like lemonade, Rosie?”
“Uh-huh. Daddy and I make the powder kind out of envelopes at home. But only for special occasions. I like milk. Cows give milk. Daddy says there are cows here.”
“There are. And I can teach you how to milk one if you’d like.”
“Maybe.” Rosie sighed. “Not today. I’m sleepy.” She rubbed her eyes.
“I bet you are.” Katie choked back tears as Rosie closed her eyes and relaxed against her. Katie kicked Starlight and increased to a gentle trot, but she caught herself looking down into the little girl’s face. Grief washed over the hole that had been hollowed out of her, a hole left empty by the loss of her sister.
She missed Maura so much sometimes she ached. Even though they hadn’t seen each other in years, they’d talked all the time, texted, teased and informed. Maura had been Katie’s best friend since the moment Katie had been born, only eighteen months behind her big sister. They had been inseparable. Opposites in nearly every way, but inseparable nonetheless.
Until Maura had discovered boys. Even then, only one boy would do.
From the time she was fourteen, Maura Montgomery knew she would marry Chance Blackwell. Anyone who ever saw the two of them together knew it as well. Katie had lost count of the number of times she’d come across them after they’d sneaked out together, or when she’d followed them down to Falcon Creek Lake, where Chance would play his guitar and sing to her. Their feelings for one another had always fascinated and confused her.
Katie didn’t remember a time her parents were happy. Ranch life was hard on a marriage, especially when one spouse—their mother—wasn’t a particularly strong person. Watching Maura and Chance fall in love had created a longing inside Katie she’d since decided simply wouldn’t be fulfilled. No one would ever love her the way Chance loved Maura. No one could ever love the land, the work, the business as much as Katie did.
And she could never tolerate anything less.
Which was why this job, this ranch, meant everything to her. She didn’t have anywhere else to go, and if she looked, she’d probably have to start at the bottom. It might be the twenty-first century, but the idea of hiring a female foreman still didn’t sit well in the male-dominated world of ranching. Besides, she didn’t want to go anywhere else. This was her home, her...everything. And the Blackwells were her family. Which was one reason why she’d been willing to help Big E.
“This plan of yours better work...and fast, Big E,” Katie whispered into the breeze. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep going.”
She’d keep going as long as she had to, Katie told herself. She didn’t have a choice. Everything was falling into place just as Big E predicted and planned. All the Blackwell brothers were home now. She only hoped things worked out before someone learned the truth.
Rosie let out a sleepy sigh that had Katie smiling. The little girl had Maura’s spirit, her enthusiasm and vivacity. And her propensity for being easily bored. That “bring on life ’cause I can take you” attitude oozed out of every pore. The tiny dimple in Rosie’s chin? That was all Chance, as was her nose. The poor kid had been saddled with a double dose of stubbornness from both sides of her gene pool. Katie could only hope Chance would be as amenable to Rosie seeing her grandfather as he’d been letting Katie take her for a ride.
By the time she reached the stables, Rosie’s weight was taking its toll. Katie’s arms ached as she called Conner, her main stable hand and trail leader, over for help in handing her niece off so she could dismount. She removed her gloves, stuffed them into her pockets and picked up her hat before taking back Rosie, a sliver of love winding through her as Rosie linked her arms around Katie’s neck and settled into sleep. She whistled for Hip, who bounded dutifully over to escort them back to the house. Beyond the braying of the miniature donkeys, she heard the bleeting of Billy the goat in the distance. That little guy always knew when Hip came home.
“Right tired one there, Katie.” Connor tipped a finger to his hat and grinned. “You’re hiring them awful young now, aren’t you?”
“Start them early, you know that, Conner.” Katie laughed. “Everything good here?”
“Yes, ma’am. Chuck and Dally are heading out to check on a bull we think might have broken through the fence line. Nothing serious. We’ll get it taken care of.”
“Great. I’ll be heading home soon. Need to check on Dad. I should be back around after dinner.” There were some minor repairs that needed doing on the guesthouse and the activity calendar needed filling and updating. Ranching was a 24/7 occupation. What downtime came, chances were it wouldn’t last long. There was always something that needed tending to. Not that Katie had any idea what to do to relax. She was one of those people incapable of sitting still when there was work to be done.
Katie hummed as she made her way across to the main house. Funny how a seemingly little girl weighed more than a newborn calf. As she rounded the corner she saw Chance standing on the front porch, lounging against the post by the stairs.
Katie’s boot caught in the dirt and she tripped, catching herself before they both toppled to the ground. It wasn’t seeing him there so much that startled her, but the unusual tingling that electrified her heart and had her catching her breath. The way he stood, looking out over the land, sipping a glass of Hadley’s lemonade tea, made Katie think of what it would be like to come home to someone like him after a hard day’s work on the ranch. Would he turn his head, smile at her and be happy to see her, even covered in mud and grime and smelling of cows, horses and worse? Would he hold out his arms to welcome her home, take the child from her and hitch her into his own grasp and kiss them both hello?
Katie gasped, guilt sweeping the thoughts from her mind. This was Chance she was thinking about. The man who had—to hear Lochlan tell it—destroyed their family. What was she thinking putting Chance in any role other than that of Rosie’s father? And her late sister’s widow.
She was thinking she needed a tall drink and long hot bath. She needed to get her head screwed back on straight. Now was not the time for muddled thinking or distractions. She had to be on top of her game now that Big E had gone from man with a plan to overconfident. She had to be prepared for anything. And anything could not include Chance Blackwell.
She shifted her path and made a show of coming into view. Katie knew the instant he saw them. He went from relaxed contemplation to a soldier at attention. He set his glass on the porch rail and walked down to meet her.
“She okay?” Chance reached for Rosie with firmness and care.
“She’s just pooped.” Katie shook out her arms and laughed. She stopped herself when she realized the sound echoed falsely in her own ears. “I’m not sure she’s as enamored with ranch life as she once was.”
“Good.” Chance winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean that to sound quite so—”
“Rude?” Katie tried not to be offended. Of course Chance didn’t want Rosie liking this place. The only reason he’d come back in the first place was because Ty convinced him he didn’t have a choice. “Don’t worry. I’ll get used to it.”
“I’m sorry.” Chance rubbed a hand up and down Rosie’s back. “You’re right. That was rude. It’s hard. Being back here.” He shifted to look out onto the Rocky-tipped horizon. “I keep expecting her to come riding along, hair flying, those ridiculous boots of hers barely clinging to the stirrups.”
“The purple-and-blue boots Dad special-ordered from Bozeman?” Katie’s heart flipped. “She almost wore out those things. Bugged him for months until he gave in.” She reached up and caught one of Rosie’s curls around her finger. “I know you don’t want to be here, Chance. I know you hate us. But that doesn’t stop me from being grateful you brought her here.”
“I don’t hate you, Katie.”
“Just my father.” Didn’t he know that hurt her just as much. “I know he’s a difficult man, Chance.”
“Understatement of the century.” Chance cradled Rosie’s head in his hand. “He did everything he could to control your sister’s life and yours. He could never accept Maura choosing me over him. Or that she left.”
“No, he couldn’t.” Katie shook her head. “I know that. Just as I’ve always known I came in second where she was concerned.”
“Katie.” Chance’s gentle admonishment wasn’t something she wanted to hear.
“You think I don’t know?” Katie asked around a too-tight throat. “You think I don’t know she was the one he wanted to follow in his footsteps? That she was the one he doted on, spoiled and loved?” She looked into Chance’s face, part of her wanting him to correct her, to tell her she was wrong. As much as it hurt when he didn’t, she was grateful he didn’t lie to her. “I know he cares about me in his own way. I can only hope he’s proud, but I won’t count on that. I’m all he has now. Even if I’m not what he wants.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
“That better not be sympathy I hear in your voice, Chance Blackwell.” Katie stepped back and pointed an accusing finger at him. “I wouldn’t trade my life for the world. This place is everything to me. It’s where I belong. It’s where you all have made me always feel like family.”
“You are family, Katie.”
She forced a smile. If he only knew. Family didn’t lie to one another. Family didn’t deceive and manipulate. “I appreciate that. I need to get back and make sure Dad eats something. And I think you should probably get her into bed.”
“Which pink cloud shall I choose?” Chance asked. “That place is...”
“Hideous.” Katie would give anything to have seen his face when he first walked inside. “Yep. I am well aware. Just imagine Rosie’s face when she wakes up and finds she’s living in a cotton-candy dispensary.”
“Hadley left us dinner. Why don’t you come back and join us?”
“I can’t. Have to fix Dad his dinner and then I’ll be doing another walk-through of the stables. I’ll be in the north paddock in the morning, though. If you want a riding-lesson refresher course,” she said, then began backing away.
“I’m not getting on a horse, Katie Montgomery,” he called after her as she headed toward her truck, which she’d left parked at the back of the house.
She turned and laughed. “We’ll see, Chance. We’ll see.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u6b45426c-372b-5bdd-8dc3-3e9c7797c401)
CHANCE CARRIED A still-sleeping Rosie up to his old room. A room that had undergone a massive personality transplant. He blocked his mind to the frilly canopy bed—he didn’t know they still made those—and the swirly pink wallpaper. His old scarred dresser had been transformed, as had the desk that had gotten him through grammar school and high school that sat wedged beneath a window and looked out onto endless pastures and countless cattle. His closet, now stuffed with boxes and junk that had no connection to him, was ajar because of the slightly uneven floor.
And there, on his bed, sat his old hat.
“Subtle, Jon.” Or Hadley. Or maybe his veterinarian brother, Ethan, or his new bride, Grace, had gotten sneaky and creative? Ben wouldn’t have been so subtle; despite his brother’s formal lawyerlike tendencies, Ben would have been more likely to smack Chance in the face with the Stetson. Ty would have put him in a headlock and shoved the hat on his head.
Maybe it had been Katie. That grin on her face as she’d backed away from him had been full of more than humor. He might not have dwelled on a lot of memories from the ranch, but he’d known Katie well enough to know when something was amiss. And despite her easygoing smile and steely-eyed determination, something hovered beneath the surface. She was worried.
No. Chance held Rosie a moment longer than necessary as he watched out the window as Katie hiked over the hill and up toward the foreman’s house. She was scared.
“Daddy?” Rosie mumbled and sighed as he laid her down on the creaky mattress. “I rode a horsie.”
“I know you did, Bug.” Chance kneeled on the floor beside the bed and stroked her hair and sweaty face. “Did you like it?”
She blinked sleepy eyes at him and smiled. “Yes. But my butt hurts.”
“It won’t hurt so much next time.”
“Tomorrow?” Rosie yawned. “I can ride again tomorrow?”
“We’ll see.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and squeezed his eyes shut to ride the wave of emotion that swept over him. “You take your nap and we’ll have dinner later, okay? Then tomorrow you’ll start to meet your family. Your aunts and uncles and cousins.”
“I have family.” Rosie beamed at the thought as her eyes drifted closed. “I love having family. Where’s Clyde?”
“In the car. Here.” He reached for his hat and pushed it into her hands. “You keep this safe in dreamland for me and I’ll go get him. Be careful, though. This hat is special.”
“It is?” Rosie hugged the gray hat to her chest and patted it like a pet.
“Your mommy helped Big E pick it out just for me.” Or so the story went. Probably Big E’s way of making sure Chance held some appreciation for it.
“Mommy liked it here. I like it here.” Rosie’s arms went lax and she dropped back into sleep, her mouth open just wide enough to emit little-girl snores.
He pulled the folded blanket from the bottom of the bed and draped it over her before leaving the room. Chance stood in the hall, brushing off ghosts and an early-evening chill. The house felt...different. Not at all what he expected after all these months, all the years of dreading returning. His mother and father had doted on this place, but that had been when appliances went on the fritz and the wallpaper peeled from the corners of the room. It hadn’t been perfect, or designer chic. But it had felt like home.
He peeked into the bedroom next to his old one, the one Ethan had once occupied, and decided he could settle for that. The floorboards still squeaked in familiar spots, the sound an echo from the past that made his lips curve. The bones of the house were still here. He could hear them creaking as he headed downstairs, as if calling to him, and begging for help. It was the house’s soul that was barely hanging on as its heartbeat slowed beneath the avalanche of emotionless detachment and overwhelming color.
The house was no longer a home. But it wasn’t only Big E and Zoe who had done the damage. It was as if it had lost its will to live after the boys’ parents had been killed, truly gasping its last breath when the final Blackwell brother left.
“Good riddance,” Chance whispered. Because Chance, more than anyone, knew there was no turning back time. No matter how hard one tried.
* * *
“DAD!” HIP NIPPING at her heels, Katie pushed open the back door, wiped her boots on the porch mat and stepped inside. “I’m home!”
Silence greeted her, as usual, and drew her into the darkened, dated kitchen. She snapped on the light and sighed. There went any hope of a long soak in the tub before she headed back to the ranch to lock things down. Not one item had shifted since she’d left before sunrise and the mess had only been added to. Yesterday’s dishes were stacked in the chipped farmer’s sink. Toast crumbs sat like dead ants on the counter, mail and bills were piled on the breakfast bar. A pot on the stove proved her father’s talents with oatmeal had not progressed in his sixty-eight years and had, in fact, deteriorated to the point that she’d need to buy new cookware. She smelled burned food and sour milk, due in part to the half-empty milk container left out on the counter.
“At least you lick your plate clean,” Katie told Hip, who was sitting patiently at her eating spot, waiting for the rice-and-chicken dinner Katie stored in the fridge. After a quick zap in the microwave, she set it down, refilled Hip’s water bowl and smiled at the dog’s grateful whine when Katie gave her the all clear to eat.
Disgust mingled with despair when she returned to the refrigerator and found only two bottles of beer left in the door. She couldn’t remember when beer hadn’t been considered a food group in her home, which meant it must have started before Katie’s mother had died twenty years ago. Only a few months before the Blackwell brothers’ parents were killed when their car got caught in a flash flood on Blackwell property.
She was down to the last containers of guest-ranch leftovers, which meant it was time for another pilfering run. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do in the off-season for belly-warming, delicious food. But she’d worry about that later. For now...
“He can go through a case of beer but won’t touch the lasagna.” Katie’s mutter echoed in the kitchen. Part of her knew she should ask the manager at White Buffalo Grocers to stop making the deliveries, but was that a battle with her father she wanted to wage? She’d given up cursing long ago. What was the point of turning the air blue when it didn’t change anything?
Hip, done with her dinner, wandered over to her plush bed by the sliding door and settled in to watch the sunset. Ah, the life of a dog, Katie mused. Must be nice.
“Dad?” she called louder this time and headed into the living room.
The large-screen TV Big E had given Lochlan last year for Christmas was on but muted. The shopping channel displayed some gaudy jewelry set that made the Blackwell house look tame by comparison. Newspapers going back a week were strewn on the floor and crinkled under her feet as she approached where her father slept in his easy chair. A half-dozen empty beer bottles were lined up like soul-sucking soldiers on the coffee table that years ago had displayed family photo albums and certificates of merit.
Years ago. A lifetime ago. Losing their mom had started Lochlan on his rapid descent into depression and alcoholism. Maura leaving had shifted him into warp speed.
She dropped down and gripped the arm of the leather chair. “Oh, Dad.”
Tears burned the back of her throat. Lochlan Montgomery, fourth-generation ranch foreman, the biggest and—once upon a time—the best man she knew, sat slumped and snoring in his chair like a shell of a human. Snicklefrits, all tufted orange fur and big black eyes, blinked lazily at her before rolling over and going back to sleep.
Lochlan’s onetime hefty frame appeared more skeletal now thanks to the diagnosed heart condition that had landed him in the hospital more than a dozen times in the past three years. He cursed his doctors, insulted his nurses, threw any sympathy Katie or anyone offered him back in their faces and raised holy hell if Katie even mentioned bringing in a home-care worker to help keep the house and watch over him.
Katie rubbed her fingers against her temple and tried to center herself. Why was it that the harder she tried to hold on, the more things slipped through her fingers? She was so tired. Tired of worrying about her father. Worrying about the ranch. Worrying about whether Big E was going to put an end to these plans of his and finally get back to where he belonged. Yet all that paled in comparison over being trapped in a mounting pile of secrets and lies.
Secrets she had to keep, lies she had to tell if she had any hope of keeping her job and home.
Lies like Lachlan had gone to visit friends rather than admit he’d become a reclusive alcoholic unable or unwilling to leave his own home.
She was one person and with only twenty-four hours in a day, something had to give. Cracks had begun to form in the foundation of her life: in the knowledge she’d always have a roof over her head, friends to laugh with. A ranch to run.
The ranch. That odd bubble of pride and responsibility bounced inside her chest, like a level searching for balance. The Blackwell Ranch had been her first love for as long as she could remember. Since she’d first placed a booted foot in the dirt; since she’d first sat astride a horse. It might not be hers by blood or ownership, but all the sweat and blood she’d shed in her twenty-seven years had soaked into the ground, connecting them forever.
Once upon a time, her father had felt the same way. Before he’d let anger and grief overtake every emotion living inside what had at one time been a full heart.
Nights like this, Katie couldn’t help but wonder if it was her will alone keeping her father alive. Nights like this, she was glad her mother and sister weren’t around to see him.
“Dad.” Katie dropped a gentle hand on Lochlan’s flannel-covered arm and squeezed. “Dad, hey, I’m home. How about we get you something to eat?”
Lochlan mumbled and moaned and turned his head toward her. Katie’s stomach roiled against the stench of beer and his growing disdain for hygiene.
“Dad, come on. Wake up, please.” She shoved a bit harder to jolt him awake. “Hey, there you go. Hi there.” She blinked through the tears and smiled. For an instant, familiar, fatherly gray eyes looked back at her from sunken sockets. His weathered, wrinkled skin shone a bit more brightly as he opened his mouth to speak. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s Katie. You awake now?” She tugged his hand and he pushed his legs down to close the chair. “Come on, Dad. Let’s—”
“Leave me be!” Lochlan roared as his other hand shot out. The smack caught Katie hard against the side of her face. Snicklefrits hissed and leaped off the sofa to disappear into the back bedroom.
Hip’s bark split the air as pain exploded across Katie’s cheek and shock jolted her system. She tasted blood in her mouth and swiped a hand at her lips before she caught Hip by the collar and pulled her back. Even as her heart broke into a million pieces, Katie whipped her head around as anger overcame sympathy. “Dad, stop it! Stop!”
As Hip growled, Katie scrambled toward Lochlan as he struggled out of his chair. “You’re going to hurt yourself, Dad. Please.” She crouched in front of him and locked her hands around his wrists, keeping him in place. She couldn’t stop the sob from escaping her lips. “Daddy, please.”
The haze clouding his eyes seemed to clear. He sat up straighter, blinked rapidly and stared into her eyes. “Katie-girl? That you?”
“Yes, Dad, it’s me.” She ran her tongue across her teeth as relief sank into her. “You were asleep.” There was no telling what he might have been dreaming. “Are you awake now?”
“Course I am. I know when I’m sleeping. What happened to you, girl?” He pushed out his chin. “One of those bulls get the better of you? Ferdinand on the loose again?”
“Something like that.” She couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. Not when he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. Not when he might not care. Hip came up behind her and pushed her nose into Katie’s arm. The small, concerned whimper from her loyal friend was like a balm to her bruised heart. “Are you hungry, Dad? You want me to heat you up some pasta?”
“I want a steak,” Lochlan grumbled. “Not that that doctor of mine will let me have one.”
“I can fix you one, Dad. The doctor won’t know.” Katie kept a stash of rib eyes in the cold storage for nights like this: when she knew it was the only thing he’d eat. What harm could it do him now when there was so little that made him happy? “It’ll be our secret.”
“You’re a good girl, Katie.”
Katie eased her hold and pushed to her feet. There wasn’t any point in being angry. Not when her father was living in his own personal hell. “How about you go in and get cleaned up. Meet me in the kitchen in a few minutes and we’ll have dinner together.” Not that she was hungry now.
She watched closely as he pushed himself to his feet. He’d always been larger than life, towering over her for as long as she could remember. Even now that she was grown, he still did. But only as a shadow of his former self. Sometimes she missed her father so much she ached.
“Go in and change your shirt, okay? You’ve spilled beer on it.”
“I have?” Lochlan plucked the material with his finger. “Sorry about that, girl. Makes for a right mess of laundry, I know.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Laundry. Right. “Just put it in the hamper in your bathroom, okay?” She kept an eye on him as he regained his balance and wandered into his bedroom, just off the living room. The room had been his office at one time, back when he ran the Blackwell Family Ranch with the precision of an army general. But Katie realized soon after taking over the majority of his tasks at the ranch that it made more sense to move his bedroom here. Now, rather than move everything upstairs, her office was crammed into a corner of her smaller bedroom down the hall. And if she needed to do more extensive work, she used Big E’s office.
And that was an office she had to tread carefully in now that the Blackwell brothers and some of their significant others used it for paperwork. Katie’s mind buzzed. She’d come to hate that office. With the phone calls she’d endured, the orders she’d taken. Big E’s plotting and planning against his own grandsons had moved through that place like a virus, infecting Katie as an accessory. When had everything gotten so complicated?
Katie stood stone-still until she heard the running water in her father’s bathroom sink. Only when she was in the kitchen did she press a hand against the side of her face. She rotated her jaw. “Ow.” She grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer along with her father’s steak.
She threw the meat into the microwave to defrost—an act of sacrilege as far as she was concerned—and went about cleaning up the kitchen. Only when the microwave buzzed and the butter sizzled beneath the raw steak she set in the cast-iron skillet did she duck into her own bathroom to examine the damage.
“Well, you have had worse.” She pressed tentative fingers onto the red welt stretching from her eye all the way down to her lip, which had split open. “That’s gonna bruise big-time.” Katie took a deep breath. Maybe no one would notice.
Bruises, cuts and scrapes were part of ranch life. She’d been kicked and smacked and thrown off more horses than she could count. She’d had busted ribs, a broken wrist and sunburns bad enough to send her to the ER. But this bruise? That was a first. She rubbed a hand against her chest. “Oh, Daddy.”
Hip whined from the doorway. Like Pavlov’s dog, Katie dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the dog, much like Rosie had done earlier that day. Burying her tearstained face in Hip’s fur, she held on.
What was she going to do about her father? Put him in a home? That was out of the question. He’d lived on the Blackwell Ranch ever since he was a boy. He was one of the reasons she’d agreed to Big E’s plan in the first place. Being officially named foreman of the Blackwell Ranch meant more than job security and achievement. It meant she wouldn’t have to worry about breaking her father’s heart. She’d do whatever she had to in order to ensure he drew his final breath on this land. He’d lost so much else in his life. This was the least she could do for him.
An odd sentiment for sure, but when all was said and done, Lochlan Montgomery was the only family she had left.

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