Rancher at Risk
Barbara White Daille
A fresh startAfter the loss of his family in a tragic car accident, Ryan Malloy has been given one last chance to change his life. His boss sends him to Flagman’s Folly, New Mexico, to run his ranch, but unfortunately, Ryan’s troubled attitude lands him in hot water with the locals, especially the ranch’s gutsy project manager, Lianne Ward.Deaf since birth, Lianne has never let her disability define who she is or what she can do. But, she’s yet to meet a man who treated her as an equal. Ryan seems different…that is, when they’re not butting heads over the ranch’s new school for disadvantaged boys.Forced to work together, Lianne and Ryan discover an unexpected attraction beneath their quarreling. But will Ryan’s painful past drive them apart…permanently?
A Fresh Start
After the loss of his family in a tragic accident, Ryan Malloy has been given one last chance to change his life. His boss sends him to Flagman’s Folly, New Mexico, to run his ranch, but unfortunately, Ryan’s troubled attitude lands him in hot water with the locals, especially the ranch’s manager, Lianne Ward.
Deaf since birth, Lianne has never let her disability define who she is. But, she’s yet to meet a man who treats her as an equal. Ryan seems different…that is, when they’re not butting heads over the ranch’s new school for disadvantaged boys.
Forced to work together, Lianne and Ryan discover an unexpected attraction beneath their quarreling. But will Ryan’s painful past drive them apart…permanently?
Business, Lianne reminded herself as he led her to the dance floor.
But how could she think about that when Ryan had his arm wrapped around her? He shifted the hand he held around her waist.
“You okay?” he asked.
She had come here tonight to show him—and everyone—how well she could handle herself. How could she let him think she couldn’t manage something as simple as a dance?
“No problem,” she said, looking down, using the sight of his broad, solid chest to help her focus.
His fingers moved restlessly at the small of her back. Slowly, she raised her gaze.
He smiled.
She had no control over the way her heart fluttered at that moment. She wanted him to smile that way again, for her alone.
But if he did, she would never be able to resist…anything.
Business. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and inhaled the delicious scent of his aftershave.
Ryan stopped moving. Lianne opened her eyes and glanced up at him. He was smiling down at her again.
Business…or pleasure?
Dear Reader,
With every book I write, I’m like a proud mama wanting to tell you how wonderful and special the hero and heroine are and how much they deserve their happy ending. That has never been more true for me than with this story.
Despair over a family tragedy has left Ryan within inches of losing his job, his reputation and his self-worth. All he has—all he is—rides on one last chance for redemption…but there’s one woman standing in his way.
As a deaf woman caught between two cultures, Lianne has faced challenges throughout her life. When she’s blindsided by someone she trusts, she’s determined to prove herself—even though it means rebelling against her new boss.
With a little help from the folks of Flagman’s Folly, these two people who are absolutely wrong for each other could make a perfect match. But first, they’d have to let down their guards. Are they willing to take the risk? I hope you enjoy finding out!
I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 504, Gilbert, AZ 85299, or through my website: www.barbarawhitedaille.com (http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com). I’m also on Facebook: www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille (http://www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille) and Twitter: twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille (http://twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille).
All my best to you,
Barbara White Daille
Rancher
at Risk
Barbara White Daille
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest, where they don’t mind the lizards in their front yard but could do without the scorpions in the bathroom.
A writer from the age of nine and a novelist since eighth grade, Barbara is now an award-winning author with a number of novels to her credit.
When she was very young, Barbara learned from her mom about the storytelling magic in books—and she’s been hooked ever since. She hopes you will enjoy reading her books and will find your own magic in them!
She’d also love to have you drop by and visit with her at her website, www.barbarawhitedaille.com (http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com).
To anyone who steps to the music
of a different drummer.
I hope that’s you!
And, as always, to Rich.
Contents
Chapter One (#uee4d2c90-a663-583a-9557-d37a74b51bc7)
Chapter Two (#u16bd37f0-b435-50c7-9d42-3be8c5a4e897)
Chapter Three (#u9673553d-acd9-568d-b46c-6b50295e9f2e)
Chapter Four (#u536bb2e1-3fca-5202-a385-4a877d949915)
Chapter Five (#ua7da7cc9-d2da-5876-8121-0a90e84d2fce)
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)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“I’m sending you to the ranch in New Mexico.”
Nothing like condemning a man without a fair trial.
Somehow Ryan Molloy managed to keep from saying that to the man standing in the barn doorway. What did it matter, anyway? Trial or no trial, he’d already condemned himself. His gut-level response at hearing his boss’s words only piled on the guilt.
“Plan on being there by the end of the week.”
Keeping a stranglehold on the reins in his hand, he nodded.
Over the past few months, Caleb Cantrell had allowed him more than a few chances to pull himself together and get his life back on track. No need for Caleb to voice his thoughts. The fact that he’d made the day trip from New Mexico to Montana said it all.
As if reading his mind, Caleb said, “I don’t reckon I need to state the obvious.”
“That I’ve given you no choice?” Caleb wasn’t giving him one, either. No option of staying on the ranch here in Montana. He could take the offer. Or walk.
Raising no argument, asking no questions, he returned the reins to their peg on the wall, making sure they hung neatly in their appropriate spot. Too bad he hadn’t handled things with such care earlier in the week.
As if in tune with his thoughts again, Caleb said, “What happened with Rod?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
He shrugged. “He mouthed off about folks—about the manager—not attending to business around here.”
Caleb frowned. “He didn’t come across that way when we hired him.”
“He was drunker than a skunk the other day,” Ryan admitted.
“He didn’t mention that.”
“Why would he? Doesn’t matter. He was in the right. And I did the unthinkable.” Let months of anger and frustration and plain raw pain get the best of him. He forced his hands to relax by his sides. “I threw a sucker punch at one of my men. And you’re relocating me to the new ranch.” His own actions had led to this, yet the words left a bitter taste against his back teeth.
Caleb nodded. “For the time being. I need someone in Flagman’s Folly, and you could use a change of scenery.”
And a change in attitude.
More words he and the boss didn’t need to have out in the open between them. He heard them loud and all too clear.
He heard them ringing in his ears even now, though that conversation had taken place days ago. Afterward Caleb had hustled off to the airport, but not before Ryan assured him he would see him in a few days.
In the weak morning light of his ranch-house bedroom, Ryan fumbled in his dresser drawers, scooping up the items he would need for a temporary but indefinite stay and shoving them into the duffel bag on the bed.
T-shirts...handkerchiefs...briefs...bandannas... And heck, why not take the Louis L’Amour paperback from the nightstand, too? The slip of paper marking his place in the book had rested between pages eight and nine for only about six months. He just couldn’t seem to focus on the damned story, no matter that over the years he’d read it so many times he had practically memorized every word.
He managed to ignore the dresser top and the picture frame he’d turned facedown a year ago. He could stand beside a rectangle of freshly turned soil, could stare at names and dates on a chiseled stone, but he hadn’t the willpower to look at that photo.
Again he swallowed against the bitterness threatening his molars. Leaving Montana meant walking away from every connection he had to Jan and Billy. It meant running away from the memories, too, the good ones he could barely recall anymore, blotted out by the bad ones he couldn’t forget.
A year since the accident, those memories still filled his days and occasionally woke him in the dead of night. The pity in his friends’ faces had added a few more rips to the torn-up places inside him. And last week, a drunken cowboy’s insults had pushed him to his breaking point.
His throat tightened. Despite the breeze blowing in through the open window beside the bed, sweat dotted his brow. Hands hovering above the duffel bag, he paused. Before he could argue or talk himself out of his action, could brush away or second-guess the thought, he grabbed the picture frame from the dresser and slid it, still facedown, under a pile of shirts in the bag.
He would head out late afternoon, once he’d taken care of his chores here on the ranch one last time. Once he’d swung by for a last visit to the small churchyard on Hanaman Road.
And then...
Then he’d drive to New Mexico.
Only a fool would pass up the opportunity Caleb had given him, one he’d done less than nothing to deserve. Somehow he had to undo the damage he’d done, to restore his credibility with the boss. To earn back his reputation.
The hell of it was, most of him didn’t give a damn about all that. The wonder was, a small part of him still cared enough to fight for it. Plain enough to see the unexpected reassignment would be a battle.
A trial.
A risk he couldn’t afford not to take.
* * *
ONLY A SHORT while into his solo journey, one stretch of road had started looking like any other. He drove through the night, when all the towns he came to had rolled up their sidewalks and gone to bed. Or—in the case of his arrival in Flagman’s Folly, New Mexico, sixteen hours later—hadn’t yet unrolled those sidewalks to a new day.
As he turned onto Signal Street, he figured he could describe the main thoroughfare with his eyes closed; it was almost exactly like all the other main streets in every other small town. Some stroke of luck—good luck, for a change—made sure his eyes stayed open. Up ahead of his pickup truck, a little girl darted into the roadway.
The luck stayed with him, letting reflexes take over. Lungs sucked in a breath. Ribs strained. Arms jerked in tandem with his wrench of the steering wheel, and both legs joined forces to jam the brake. Momentum hurled him against the shoulder belt and then ricocheted him back into the driver’s seat.
Far past the end of the truck’s high hood, the little girl turned around, met his eyes through the windshield and gave him an angelic smile.
As he sat there shaking his head and willing his heart to beat again, the air left his lungs in a whoosh. Other reactions washed through him, no less powerful for the delay. A tremor that shook him from head to toe. And an immediate understanding of something he’d never before believed—in moments of extreme stress, life did flash before your eyes.
Not only your own life but those of people you loved.
In the street, a slim woman hurried over to the girl. A puppy bounded across the adjacent lawn to join them and looked up, tail wagging and head cocked as if to ask what had happened.
The woman led the child back to the sidewalk—where she should’ve stayed all along. What if—?
He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence, even in his mind. Only moments ago he’d shoved a slew of year-old questions like that from his thoughts. Now he could barely think at all.
Both hands scrabbling, he unclasped his seat belt and shoved the door open. As his feet hit the ground, he nearly choked on the smell of scorched tires. A burning sensation raced through his insides. Pain-fueled anger flared. “Lady,” he shouted, “are you crazy?”
Even from several yards away, he saw her blue eyes narrow. She spoke, but he couldn’t catch the response.
Again he shook his head, wanting to chase away the memories triggered by the near miss. Needing to focus on the here and now.
She said something else, and still he couldn’t make out the words. Obviously she was wrought up, with good reason. But that didn’t account for the blurriness of her voice.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose. She’d risked her little girl’s life.... “Are you drunk?” he demanded.
“No, I am not.” She clipped off each word now, making a visible effort to speak calmly and clearly.
He frowned. Whether she denied it or not, something was up with her. “What the hell were you thinking, letting that kid run into the road?”
“I didn’t let her. She chased after her puppy, and it was too late for me to stop her.”
Too late.
Not, thank God, for this little girl.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a softer tone.
He could hear the ring of sincerity, but couldn’t shake off the visions of her child. Or his own. Under his breath he muttered what he’d been forced to learn: “Being sorry won’t save your kid.”
“I told you, it happened too fast.”
He blinked, willing to swear he hadn’t spoken loudly enough for her to hear.
Ignoring him, she turned to talk to the girl.
With neither of them paying him any mind, he sagged against the sun-warmed metal of the truck and scrubbed his hand across his mouth, glad for the chance to pull himself together.
He still couldn’t shake the images that had peppered his brain like buckshot the moment he’d seen the girl run into the street. He couldn’t stop the questions he had hoped to leave a thousand miles behind him.
Had memories flooded Jan’s mind in the seconds before the crash? From his booster chair in the backseat, had Billy seen the end coming, too?
From somewhere deep inside, he found the strength to slam a mental door shut on his thoughts. For now.
Avoiding the pair on the sidewalk, he stared down the length of the street, taking in the general store, the pharmacy and a café. When he could breathe regularly again, he checked out the lawn alongside him. The town green, evidently, judging by the formal look of the hitching posts spaced all around the property and the horse troughs overflowing with flowers decorating the walkway. It almost seemed like home.
Good thing he’d never been here before, because this would’ve been one hell of a homecoming.
And good thing he didn’t intend to stay long. Didn’t matter what his boss said about “fresh starts” and “taking a breather.” No one here but Caleb’s wife, Tess, and daughter, Nate, knew him, anyway. But even that didn’t matter. He would do his job, make things right with the man who paid his wages and move on to...who the hell cared where.
Trying to ignore the sudden stiffness in his shoulders, he focused on the building ahead of him. Tall columns held up the porch, though the structure looked sturdy enough to do without them. Beneath that sheltering roof stood a white-haired man impersonating an Elvis gone forty years past his prime.
Great. If he’d had to ruin his grand entrance, couldn’t he have done it without an audience? The irony made his shoulders grow even more rigid. A year ago he’d hounded the sheriff’s office to come up with a single witness.
Maybe the way the old man stood squinting and patting his shirt pocket meant he couldn’t see a thing without glasses.
Naturally, all his good luck had run out. Elvis pulled a toothpick out of that pocket, stuck it in the corner of his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest. The old guy looked him up and down much the way Ryan himself inspected potential ranch stock.
Yeah, just great.
Distracted by movement, he looked toward the woman, who had turned to face him again.
A heavy feeling started in his chest and only got worse when she stalked toward him. Slim legs in below-the-knee shorts flashed gracefully but with as much determination as a filly headed for the finish line. He barely had time to take in the rest of her racehorse-lean frame before she came to a stop a yard from him. Her cheeks flushed pink with anger and her blue eyes flamed.
“I explained to Becky what happened,” she said, spacing her words, “and now I’ll explain some things to you.” She spread the fingers of one hand and ticked off each statement as she made it. “I am not drunk. I am not crazy. Becky is not my child.”
He shifted his shoulders again. She had a heck of a lot of points to get across, all on his account.
Beyond her he saw the little girl, as blond-haired as the woman in front of him. No wonder he’d taken them for mother and daughter. The child went onto one knee to pet the puppy.
“Becky is my niece. And—” the woman tapped her final finger, then curled both hands into fists and slammed them down in front of her “—I can take care of her.”
The sparks in her blue eyes made him fight not to wince. She had some justification for her anger. He wouldn’t deny that. He had good reason for getting upset, too.
But he didn’t have enough damn fingers for his list of regrets.
Yeah, at first fear had driven him. Once he saw the child was okay, relief had set in. But then, as with the drunken cowboy, he had let frustration take over.
He couldn’t lose it with her again.
“Look,” he said, “when I saw the girl, I thought—”
“We’ve covered what you thought.”
“Right. And you’ve said a mouthful about it. Or maybe a handful.” He gestured to her fists.
She looked down. Again she made a visible effort to gain control, to unclench her fingers and let her hands hang naturally by her sides. He ought to take notes.
When she met his eyes again, he gave her an unblinking stare.
“I’ve already apologized.” She spoke softly, indistinctly again, making him strain to focus on her words. “I’ll say it one more time. I’m sorry Becky ran into the road and gave you such a scare. But she wasn’t anywhere near you. You just overreacted.”
Another truth he couldn’t deny. No matter his unease about the woman, she was right. He had gone over the top with his reaction. The child had run into the road dozens of yards away from the truck, and he’d had plenty of time to come to a stop. Yet if he’d been closer to her, if he’d been distracted, if a car had come from the other direction... Too damned many ifs.
“You should have called her back,” he said flatly.
“She wouldn’t have heard me. She’s deaf.”
“Deaf?” He shifted his shoulders, trying to shake off the extra guilt her statement had added to him. He’d really messed things up today. Earlier this week. In the past few months.
Once, he’d listened to folks instead of jumping to snap decisions. It made him a better ranch foreman. A better man. Once. And now? He took a deep breath and let it out. “Look, I’m sorry—”
“Because she’s deaf.”
“No—”
“Because you realize you shouldn’t have made assumptions about me.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“You already did, didn’t you? Why else would you have asked if I was drunk?” Her words now came through to him loud and clear. Her irritation practically rang in his head.
So much for attempting to save the situation.
Frustration clawed at him, yet guilt weighed him down. As fast as everything had happened, as incensed as he had been, he had jumped to conclusions about her. Keeping his tone as level as he could, he said, “You’re jumping to a few conclusions about what I’m trying to say, too.”
When he pushed away from the side of the truck, bringing them closer, she tilted her head back, keeping their gazes locked. “If you hadn’t kept making your points and cutting me off, by now I’d have told you I’m sorry this whole thing happened.”
She blinked and stared at him for a long moment. “Well,” she said finally, “in that case, I guess we’ve both said all we needed to say.”
He watched her turn and motion to the girl, who fell into step, her hands moving, as they walked away.
The dog sat on his haunches, wagged his tail and looked at him.
A good part Labrador with some shepherd in his bloodline, the pup had a dark coat but a tan-colored face. Dark fur circled one eye as though he stood staring with an eyebrow raised in question.
In answer, Ryan shrugged.
The dog whined, his thoughts plain enough to read. Us guys ought to stick together. Tail drooping now, the pup turned and padded after the pair of females who’d left him behind.
Could things get any worse?
“Ahem.”
Startled, he turned to find the man had come down from the porch and moved to his side. Not good, letting himself get so distracted he’d given Elvis a chance to sneak up on him.
“I reckon that wasn’t the best way to start off,” the man said with a strong Texas twang. The woman’s blue eyes had flamed in irritation. The old man’s, a lighter shade of blue, seemed to bore right into him. And judging by his expression, the guy didn’t much care for what he saw.
Ryan faced him head-on, widened his stance and crossed his arms.
“Around these parts,” the man added, “folks respond better to kind words than to being called crazy.” He shifted the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “You’d best remember that if you plan on staying here for long.”
“What makes you think I’m staying?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Maybe I’m passing through.”
The man shook his head. “We’re too far from the interstate for sensible folks to detour through town. And we don’t get a lot of drop-ins all the way from Montana.”
Frowning, Ryan shot a look at the dirt-covered pickup truck behind him. Considering they stood broadsides to the vehicle, the old man couldn’t have seen the plate at the rear. “How did you figure out where I’m from?”
“Didn’t have to figure a thing. People keep me informed. They know I like to stay on top of what goes on in my town.”
Ryan stiffened. “Your town? Just who are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Don’t mind a bit. Lloyd M. Baylor.” As they shook hands, the man’s eyes squinted with his smile. “Welcome to Flagman’s Folly, Mr. Molloy.”
Ryan froze with his arm still outstretched. He hadn’t introduced himself. Instantly, he dropped his hand to his side, hoping the old man hadn’t noticed the hesitation. Not much chance of that. Those blue eyes hadn’t squinted from a smile after all but from a calculating stare.
Scrutinized like horseflesh once again—and passed over.
Just as when he’d spoken with the woman, his gut told him something wasn’t right. But this time, he wouldn’t jump to a response. Keeping his tone level, he said, “Have we met?”
“No, but I know all about you.”
“From Caleb Cantrell?” So much for a fresh start.
The older man nodded as if he’d listened in on Ryan’s thoughts. “Yep, heard all about you from Caleb. And there’s no need to get up on your high horse about it. He and I go back a long way. He trusts me just like I’ll trust you. If you don’t give me cause to do otherwise.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. And I’ll tell you something else. Flagman’s Folly is the nicest place anyone would ever want to visit, including you. Just make sure you behave accordingly and keep out of my place of business.”
The local saloon, Ryan surmised, judging by the man’s string tie and red suspenders. He gritted his teeth and tried for a grin. And promised himself he wouldn’t raise a glass in that barroom. “You’re not living up to Caleb’s talk about the town’s friendly reputation, Mr. Baylor. If that’s how you welcome newcomers, I’m surprised you have any customers at all.”
“Customers?” The old man gave a gravelly laugh. “Never heard folks call it that, but I reckon the word works just as well as any other.”
He frowned. “What kind of place are you running?”
The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the building behind him. “You’re looking at it, son. This is Town Hall, and I run the courtroom.” After eyeing Ryan for a long moment, he added, “You’re more than welcome to stop by my office anytime. As long as you show up with a clean conscience and without a lawyer in tow.” He nodded once to underscore his words before heading back along the trough-lined path.
Ryan clamped his jaw shut and shook his head over that so-called invitation. What had Caleb told the judge about him, anyhow?
Swearing under his breath, he climbed into the truck and slammed the door shut behind him.
He’d picked a hell of a way to make a first impression on folks in Flagman’s Folly.
Chapter Two
A flash in the mirror above the dresser made Lianne Ward automatically turn toward the doorway of her temporary bedroom. Her sister lumbered into the room, both hands supporting her lower back.
“Here, sit down.” Lianne swept aside the freshly washed clothes she had piled onto the bed. In the two days since her arrival, she hadn’t had a single private moment with Kayla. If her good luck held until Becky came running into the room, maybe she could continue to avoid the conversation she didn’t want to have. If not, she might as well wave a white flag and surrender.
Never argue with a pregnant woman, someone had once said. Great advice, especially with this pregnant woman, who never liked to take no for an answer.
Besides, Kayla could sign.
Sure enough, the minute their gazes met, she started in, using both hands and voice. “You’ve been avoiding one-on-one time with me since you got here. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, big sis. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
“You’re the big one right now.” What a relief to be able to tease Kayla, to say what she wanted without having to speak slowly, without focusing on each word and every syllable. To talk without thinking about her voice at all. So different from this morning and her run-in with that impossible man who accused her of making assumptions about him. He’d done the same with her....
But didn’t everyone, if not sooner than later?
She loosened her grip on the T-shirt she had intended to fold. If she didn’t watch out, her own sister would start jumping to conclusions. She forced a smile. “It’s only April. Are you sure that baby’s going to wait another three months?”
Kayla was so lucky to have Sam and Becky and another child on the way. But even the mention of the baby didn’t seem to distract her sister now.
Kayla rested her hand on Lianne’s arm, the way she’d always done to get her full attention. “The baby will come when he’s ready. What I don’t understand is why you’re so ready to leave.”
“Miss me already? Don’t worry, you’ll have enough company when Sam’s mom gets here.”
“That’s months away!”
“But if Sharleen hears I’m staying, she might start thinking she’s not needed.”
Kayla circled her right forefinger at her temple, making a sign that needed no words. Obviously, she hadn’t fallen for Lianne’s crazy excuses.
“You know I have to go,” she said gently. “I made a commitment.” And unlike some people, she stuck by her promises. “Besides, I’ll only be a few miles down the road, close enough to come running as soon as Sam texts to let me know you’re in labor. And I’ll be by plenty of times before then. As you said, we’ve got months before the baby comes.”
Kayla shook her head. “What about Becky?”
“She’ll see plenty of me, too.” She took great care in folding another shirt. This visit had been the best break from her troubles she could ever have asked for. The only downside to the past couple of days—other than this morning—had been the many times Kayla had skewered her with a sharp-eyed gaze.
Even now, she wasn’t letting lack of eye contact deter her. She put her hand on Lianne’s arm again and pointed to the bed.
“You don’t give up, do you?” Sighing, she sank to the edge of the mattress.
“Not when there’s something wrong. You know how happy I am to have you here. But I want to know why you left Chicago ahead of schedule. I’m guessing it’s connected to Mark, since you haven’t mentioned him once.”
“Don’t worry about him,” she said lightly.
“I’m not. I’m worried about you. And I’m not taking a brush-off for an answer.”
She shifted on the mattress. Kayla would only be upset to hear she now had no steady relationship, no permanent job and not even a home to call her own. All because of a confrontation she hadn’t walked away from the way she had fled from that stranger on Signal Street. “You’ve got enough on your mind. You don’t need to hear my problems.”
“Listen, big sis, haven’t we always confided in each other?”
For most things, yes. Not this. On the other hand, she recognized on her sister’s face the same stubborn look she often saw in her own mirror.
Sighing again, she said, “The long story short is, things with Mark didn’t work out.”
Kayla’s eyes, as blue as her own, shone with tears. “I’m sorry. I thought everything was going so well. You’ve been with him longer than anyone else I can remember.”
“Two years, three months, eight days. But who’s counting?” The relationship had lasted longer than most. So had Mark’s apparent acceptance that she was deaf. “He turned out to be just like some of the other guys I’ve dated—the ones who are so sure I can’t manage without their help.” How many times had she heard that? “He put an extra spin on things, though.” She looked away and then made herself meet Kayla’s eyes again. “He said I’ll never survive without him.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
Lianne had no trouble reading the next word on Kayla’s lips. She shook her head. “Yes, he is that. But watch your mouth, little sis. Your son might be able to hear you.”
They both laughed.
“Anyway, you called it right about Mark. So he’s history.” Kayla’s expression told her she hadn’t done a good job of keeping her feelings from her tone. She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it.” And she’d learn from it.
Someday.
She dropped the folded shirts into her canvas carryall. “Enough about him. How’s Becky?”
“She’s fine.” Kayla shook her head. “Sam and I have talked to her over and over about being careful when she’s chasing after Pirate. Five-year-olds forget. We’ll keep talking to her.” She stopped signing briefly to squeeze Lianne’s hand. “I told you, it wasn’t your fault.”
“She moved so quickly—”
“She does that to me all the time. It’s scary. Believe me, I know. But you said the driver didn’t come close to her.”
“He didn’t. That’s what I tried to tell him.”
She’d been upset over the situation, too. He hadn’t cared about that. Maybe hadn’t even noticed, considering the way he had almost staggered from the truck, his face pale and his eyes wide.
A twinge of guilt made her wince. He had also tried to apologize. Yet after getting the final words in, she had stalked away.
Kayla frowned. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No. Becky wasn’t—”
“I’m talking about you. And that man.”
“Forget him.” She planned to. One look into his stormy-green eyes and she had instinctively known he would bring her nothing but trouble. She didn’t need any more trouble.
To her relief, Becky burst into the room and, already chattering away, ran up to Kayla.
Like any child her age, her niece walked around with a head full of never-ending questions. And like any inquisitive, active child, she forever wanted someone to talk to and play with. Happily, thanks to her mommy, Becky knew plenty of kids who signed.
A five-year-old without friends who could communicate with her found life lonely and isolating at times.
Adults didn’t have it any easier.
Why hadn’t she seen through Mark sooner?
You’ll never survive without me.
Ridiculous, as Kayla had said.
She couldn’t bring herself to tell Kayla the words he had flung as his parting shot.
With his mouth so contorted in anger, his face so filled with scorn, she’d had trouble reading his lips. Seeing her struggle, he had gone out of his way to speak slowly and deliberately. To make sure she got the message:
You’ll never make it anywhere, Lianne.
She understood that, all right. And those words had made her cut her losses and leave him.
No matter what he thought, she could live in both the hearing and the deaf worlds. And she would fight any man who wouldn’t treat her as his equal in either one of them.
* * *
BY LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Ryan and Caleb had inspected a good portion of the eastern boundary of the new ranch. The horses had no trouble getting them back home, which reminded him of the question Caleb had asked that morning. Did he have any trouble finding the ranch? He had given Caleb a firm negative. He’d had no problem at all making his way there.
If only that had been true about his trip through town. All day, he’d had a hard time keeping the incident out of his mind. But no way would he bring it up with the boss.
“We’ll take care of some of that fencing during the week ahead,” Caleb said, looking at his watch. “Let’s call it a day.”
“Sounds good to me.” It had been a long afternoon after a longer trip, and with all he’d had to get done before leaving Montana, he hadn’t closed his eyes for almost two days now. But lost sleep trailed at the end of his long list of troubles.
Tony, the gray-haired stable hand he’d met earlier, ambled out of the barn, his gait unsteady due to a bum leg and a built-up boot heel.
As they dismounted, Tony gestured to the horses. “I’ve got these.”
Ryan held on to the reins, standard procedure on the Montana ranch. Except in an emergency, a rider took care of his own mount. To his surprise, Caleb handed over his reins and then nodded at him. Frowning, Ryan followed the unspoken order.
After the cowhand had led both horses into the depths of the barn, Caleb said, “Tony’s an old buddy of mine. When I got back home again, I went to Amarillo to look him up. He’d run across a mean bull in rodeo years ago. Not everybody’s as lucky as I was.”
Lucky, hell. He knew why the boss had just leaned back against the barn door to give his leg muscles a rest. The former bull-riding champ had met a badass of his own and still stiffened up after a while in the saddle.
“Once Tony heard I was buying the ranch, he said he’d been spending too much time on his butt and wanted something to do.”
That explained the new procedure with the horses.
Just like his boss, always willing to help an old friend.
“As you saw,” Caleb went on, “there’s still plenty of work to do and men and horses and cattle to bring in before this turns into anything like the working ranch in Montana.” He looked at him. “We’ll need to go over some specifics.”
Ryan nodded. The tour had gone fine. Too fine, maybe. As he’d learned the hard way all through life, good things might come in threes, but so did bad ones. After his run-ins that morning with the unnamed woman and the judge, he wondered what to expect from his talk with the boss.
Not once since his arrival had Caleb indicated either by word or by action any lack of trust in him. But if he didn’t watch his step, he’d be pulling stable duty with Tony.
Judge Baylor’s name hadn’t come up, either. Not for the first time, he wondered why the boss had talked to the man about him.
“I’ll have the laptop with me tomorrow,” Caleb continued, “and we can run over the list of wranglers we’ve got on board as of now.”
“Good. Always nice to know something about the men you’re working with.” No reason he shouldn’t get along with those here. He’d always done just fine back home...until lately.
“I mentioned the renovations.” Caleb gestured toward the bunkhouse. “The contractor’s not done yet with the addition. Things will be a mess over there for a while, but since we don’t have a full crew, that shouldn’t be a problem. I want you to bunk down here at the house, anyway.”
Puzzled, Ryan said, “You and the family haven’t moved in yet?”
“No. We’re keeping our rooms at the Whistlestop for now. My mother-in-law has plenty available.” His grimace told Ryan business hadn’t picked up for the family-owned inn. “Anyhow, the bunkhouse is low on the priority list. I’ve had the contractor’s men working on the cabins.”
“Cabins?”
“Yeah. Phase two.” Caleb eyed him for a long moment.
From inside the barn, metal clanged against metal. A horse nickered. Tony’s soothing response reached them as a murmur, reminding him of the woman on Signal Street.
Caleb gave him a wry smile. “We’re not up to speed yet, mostly because it took me a while to decide what I wanted to do with the property. I’ve finally figured it out. We’ll eventually get this place running as a working ranch. But along with that, I’m setting up a school for disadvantaged boys.”
Ryan shoved his hands into his back pockets and forced himself not to break eye contact. Hell, not to break into a sweat. He knew enough about his boss’s history to understand his interest in folks who didn’t have much to call their own. But Caleb knew his history, too. “You never mentioned kids.”
“I am now.”
He sucked in a breath. This wasn’t part of their deal.
As if they’d actually agreed on his reassignment.
“We’ve got student applications coming in, and we’re in the process of hiring. Officially, we won’t open till August.”
Four months from now. He would be long gone.
The contractors had left a sawhorse just outside the barn door. He settled on it and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I’ve brought in a project manager to handle the school setup,” Caleb added. “Meanwhile, I’ll be keeping a close eye on things.”
Ryan frowned. Did he plan to keep an eagle eye on him, too? Or a squint-eyed gaze like the one the judge had given him earlier? And how many other surprises did the boss plan to throw at him? “I met a friend of yours on my way through town this morning.”
He gave himself a mental kick for blurting the statement.
Before he could get himself in deeper, a vehicle screeched to a halt in the front of the house.
Caleb looked at his watch again and pushed himself upright. “Speaking of friends, here’s another one of mine you’ll get to meet. The new project manager.”
Thankful for the reprieve, he walked across the yard, trying to get a handle on the same issues that had dogged him all year. Frustration over circumstances he had no ability to control. Overwhelming anger at unanswered questions.
He shook his head. In the few hours since he’d set foot in Flagman’s Folly, he hadn’t done much of what he’d come here to prove—that he was back to his calm, rational, clearheaded self. Back to the self he was before the accident. Back to being a man his boss could trust.
He wondered what kind of man Caleb would trust to manage a project as big as building a school. He turned the corner of the house and got his answer. Not a man after all.
The third bad thing of his day had just arrived.
He stared past Caleb at the woman he’d had the run-in with that morning.
Chapter Three
Would she never get away from the man?
She just couldn’t shake him off. On Signal Street. In her thoughts. And now on the ranch. Just behind Caleb, the cowboy crossed the driveway toward her, striding with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops like some Old West villain wanting quick access to his guns. Well, if he wanted a shoot-out, she’d give him one. And if he thought that unblinking stare of his would send her packing, he’d have to think again.
Caleb made introductions. She regained her focus barely in time to read the cowboy’s name from Caleb’s lips.
“...Ryan Molloy.”
She plastered her smile in place and nodded silently. No sense wasting the effort to speak to the man. She’d been there, done that earlier and had felt the consequences of it ever since.
Unlike this morning, he seemed done with her, too.
“We were just talking about you,” Caleb said.
She stood straighter. “Were you?” Had he already learned what had happened on Signal Street? With Becky involved, of course, she’d had to tell Kayla. But had the darned cowboy already spread the news to her new boss?
If Caleb did know, he chose not to mention it right then. “Ryan’s come down from the ranch in Montana. I was starting to fill him in on our plans.”
And why did the cowboy need to know?
Taking a deep breath, she forced another smile.
“We’ve decided to call it a night,” Caleb said. “And before I forget to tell you—” he glanced at them both but kept his face turned toward her “—Tess and Roselynn already plan to set places for you at the Whistlestop for Sunday dinner. And Nate’s got a whole list of questions she’s saved for Lianne.” He looked at her. “Okay with you?”
“That sounds perfect.” Half the truth, since the cowboy had been invited along, too. But she had loved Caleb’s new extended family the minute she’d met them at Kayla and Sam’s wedding more than a year ago. “I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”
“Good. I’ll be back in the morning, then. Ryan, help Lianne with her gear when you bring yours in. Then you’ll both be set for the night.”
The sudden blankness in the cowboy’s face alerted her. She could read lips with the best of them, but no one caught one-hundred percent of a conversation, even after years of practice. She had missed something. Something he didn’t like. What?
She watched Caleb carefully as she said, “We’ll both be...”
“Set for the night.” He laughed. “Maybe better said, for the duration. Ryan’s moving in, too.”
Instantly, she made her face as blank as the cowboy’s. She’d had plenty of practice in that, too, and she couldn’t let Caleb see her dismay. But right now the last thing she wanted was to share space with anyone. Especially Ryan Molloy.
“You okay with that?” Caleb asked. “If not, we can get you a room at the Whistlestop.”
“No, I’m fine,” she blurted. As much as she liked his family, she needed time alone. She would have even less chance of that in a bed-and-breakfast inn than she would have had at Kayla’s. At least here she had only the cowboy around. She would stay far out of his way.
“And you?” Caleb asked Ryan.
“I don’t have a problem with it.”
As far as she could tell, he’d spoken quietly—no exaggerated mouth movements, no strained muscles in his neck. Yet standing so close to him, she could swear she felt a tiny vibration rumble through her.
Caleb nodded at her, and he and Ryan walked toward Caleb’s pickup truck.
Eyes narrowed, she looked the cowboy over from his broad shoulders to tight-fitting jeans. When she realized she was staring, she hurried around the end of her Camry. The man was irritating and confrontational—and not worth her time.
Everything inside the trunk had shifted during her trip, and it took a few moments to work some tangled straps free. Ryan reached forward to grab another bag. She nearly jumped out of her shoes. Even wearing her hearing aids, she couldn’t pick up footsteps. But people coming up from behind her never startled her. Her nerves must need time to regroup as much as she did.
He gestured at the car. “Riding a little low to the ground, isn’t it?”
“It’s packed.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. You’ve got more in there than most folks manage to cram into the back of a pickup. Looks like you brought everything you own.”
“I did,” she snapped. Regret flooded her. Why hadn’t she kept quiet? He didn’t need to know anything about her personal life.
Ryan reached for another bag.
“I can do that,” she said quickly.
He nodded. “I’ll start on the boxes in the car.”
“That’s okay.” When he turned to open a rear door, ignoring her, she managed to hold her temper in check. Barely. Surely he knew he needed to face her when he spoke. “Caleb said you have your own things to unload.”
He looked at her and shrugged. “Two duffel bags and an extra pair of boots.” One side of his mouth curved up. “From the looks of it, your stuff will take a lot longer to unload than mine. And I’m beat. I’d rather get this done before I run out of energy.”
“I can handle this,” she said.
“Hey, I recognize an order from the boss, even if you don’t. And I don’t slack off anytime, which means I’m sure not going to do it when he’s still here.”
Heat flooded her face. She turned around to look down the length of the driveway. Sure enough, Caleb had just begun to back his truck onto the road in front of the house. His truck with the engine that was loud enough to make her aids vibrate.
Wonderful. Earlier, she’d messed up reading Caleb’s words, and now she’d completely missed the clue that would have told her he hadn’t yet left.
From tiredness, that was all. Tiredness after the long drive from Chicago. Excitement over the new job. Frustration over dealing with this darned cowboy again. And...
...and fear.
Normally, she could handle anything that came her way. But every once in a while when she thought of the scope of this project, a small part of her worried she’d gotten in over her head.
She owed that to Mark, too.
Forcing a smile, she waved goodbye to Caleb. Then she turned back to Ryan, moments too late. He had pulled a box from the backseat of the Camry, taken the bag from the trunk, and was already going up the front porch steps.
The box he carried, filled with books and file folders, weighed a ton. Ryan cradled the cardboard box in one arm as though it weighed no more than the pillow she’d tossed on top of the bags in the passenger seat.
She stared at his arms and shoulders, at bulging muscles probably honed through hard labor. Nothing at all like most of the men she knew in Chicago, who sculpted their bodies at the gym. None of those men would have ventured out in public dressed the way he was, either, in boots so old and cracked that the leather had worn to suede in spots and jeans so threadbare they’d turned white in places. The perfect specimen of a true-blue, red-blooded, thank-you-ma’am-polite cowboy.
Until he’d started in on her this morning and the image had shattered like a mirror dropped on concrete.
* * *
TWO HUNDRED YARDS shy of the railroad crossing at the south end of town, the car swerved, painting black rainbows on the asphalt, straightened again, slid forward and ended up grill-first against an unyielding concrete fence. Fiberglass popped. Distressed metal collapsed, twisting and bending, folding in on itself like a beer can in the hands of a drunken man.
He could smell the rubber, hear the metal scream, feel the pounding in his temples.
But he wasn’t there....
He hadn’t been there the day of the accident. He didn’t know where he was now, other than sitting bolt upright in an inky darkness that stretched on into forever. His heart limped for a few beats as he sat waiting for his eyes to adjust.
Dead ahead a thin gold thread appeared, outlining a dark rectangle—light seeping around the edges of a window shade. Off to one side of him, bright red LED numbers hovered in the dark like a candle flame. A bedside clock, reading 5:43 a.m.
The red images gave him his bearings: Caleb’s ranch house, the guest room on the second floor, the faint light from the porch fixture outside. A deep sleep after two days of no shut-eye. A nightmare he had hoped he’d left behind.
The screeching metal and shattering glass had only added sound effects to a bad dream.
Then why did they still echo inside his head?
Lianne?
He crawled out of bed, grabbed his jeans and slid them on, all the while trying to identify the source and location of the racket that wasn’t in his head at all. And that had just ended as abruptly as if someone had pulled a plug.
The noise had come from below.
He took the stairs in two leaps. Not a sound down here, and dark as pitch except for the band of light streaming from an open door halfway down the hall to the kitchen. The continuing silence made the previous noises all the more ominous.
He hurried toward the light from the office Caleb had shown him that afternoon and then skidded to a halt in the doorway, expecting splinters from the polished wooden floor to pierce his bare soles. One glance told him serious damage had been done.
Every door in the wall of custom-built cabinets hung wide open. A drawer of each file cabinet gaped. The rest of the room looked like a field back home after a winter storm, except instead of snow, every horizontal surface had been covered with clipboards, plastic filing trays and folders spilling their guts.
Over everything drifted the scent of freshly brewed coffee from a table in one corner, the only uncluttered space in the room.
In a far corner, his new housemate stood with her back to him near one of the file cabinets. She flung another folder the few feet over to the desk behind her without looking. It slid from the edge to join the rest of them on the floor.
What the—?
Maybe he hadn’t woken up yet. He scrubbed his face with his bare hand, attempting to wipe away the last traces of drowsiness.
When he took his hand from his face, he found Lianne watching him.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.
Biting his tongue, he fought to come up with a question that didn’t include any swear words. “What are you doing up?”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, either. I’ve got a busy schedule, so I thought I would get in here and rearrange everything the way I want it. While I’ve still got the opportunity. Before I get to work.”
She was babbling and, for the first time, had spoken to him naturally. Nerves had made her forget her defenses. Probably best not to point that out.
“Did you need something?” she asked.
“Some peace and quiet.”
“Oh.” She grimaced. “I forgot to close the door, didn’t I?”
“You forgot more than that.” He glanced at the center of the room. The sound of plastic file trays and a half dozen other items crashing to the floor in front of the desk had played right into the crumpling metal and breaking glass of his dream.
She followed his gaze. “I guess I got a little involved.”
And a lot reckless.
Her cheeks pinker than the T-shirt she was wearing, she stooped and began scooping papers together.
He dropped to one knee and grabbed her wrist. When she looked up at him, her brows lowered, he gestured toward the floor. “Watch it. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“You’re worried about paper cuts?”
“No. This.” From under a flurry of paper, he lifted the jagged pieces of glass and wood.
She took the broken frame from his hand and turned it over. A trio of smiling faces looked up at them. Caleb. His wife, Tess. Their daughter, Nate.
“Oh, no. Caleb just had this photo taken.” Lianne stared down, her face stricken. Broken glass had left a deep scratch across the surface.
“It’s only a picture,” he muttered. “Easy enough to replace.”
She ignored him.
He took the frame from her and set it on the desk, then leaned over to start picking up files from the floor.
“Not those,” she said.
He looked at her.
“They’re in order. Organized chaos, I know. But that’s the way I work.”
“Right. How about I pick up what belongs on the desk and you take care of the rest?”
When he’d finished that, he rose and looked over at the coffeemaker.
“Want some?” she asked. “Help yourself.”
“Might as well. I don’t guess I’ll be going back to sleep tonight.” He looked at the pink-tinged sky through the office window and corrected himself. “This morning.”
She picked up an empty mug from the desk. “Ranchers have to get up early, don’t they?”
“Not this early,” he said.
She flushed again but held out the mug. Once he’d filled it, she took a seat behind the desk. The power position.
“Maybe sharing this house isn’t the best idea.” Her gesture swept the room. “Obviously, I’m not the quietest person. I’d hate to interfere with your sleep again.”
“I’m staying.” As if he had a choice. “Once you’re done fixing things up here, there won’t be anything else to bother me. Unless you get hit in the middle of the night with an idea to rearrange heavy furniture.”
“Very funny.”
He sat on the small couch near the coffeemaker and stretched out his legs, crossing them at his bare ankles. Might as well make use of the time, too. Show Caleb he’d done his homework. “Tell me about the school.”
She took a long deep breath followed by a sip of coffee. “Our overall mission is to provide a home for troubled boys. A residential school. They’ll live here, attend classes and group therapy sessions, and have one-on-one meetings, as well.”
He raised his brows. “Then you’re talking behavioral counselors and teachers as well as camp counselors?”
“They’ll be called aides, but they’ll act as counselors like at a camp, yes. And only a small staff of teachers, since the older boys will take some of their classes online. We’ll also have a live-in registered nurse.”
“Sounds like a big operation.”
“It will be. We’re starting small and plan to increase enrollment in future.” It was the most she’d said to him since their first meeting. She spoke slowly and clearly, ensuring he didn’t miss a thing, as if she wanted to emphasize the importance of what she was saying. Or as if she recalled the conclusion he’d jumped to when they’d first met—that she was drunk.
At times, he still found her hard to understand, though even when he lost a few words along the way, he got the message. Considering her voice and her niece being deaf, he reckoned Lianne had some hearing loss, too.
“As part of the noncredit courses,” she continued, “we’ll teach life skills, rolled into lessons that fit with living on a ranch. Cookouts, hikes and nature walks, riding lessons. In fact, that part of the curriculum will run along the lines of a dude ranch. But don’t tell Caleb’s daughter that.”
“Why not? When I met Nate at the ranch in Montana, she was all about horses.”
“Oh, she still is. She’s just not a fan of dudes.” She gave a soft, throaty chuckle. “And she’s not alone. When I first suggested Caleb turn this into a dude ranch, you should have heard the reactions of the people around here. It could have been a wise investment. But with the school, we’ve got so many more possibilities to make a difference.” Her eyes shone.
When she wasn’t glaring at him or counting off points on her fingers, she was a nice-looking woman.
What did that matter? He tightened his hand around the coffee mug. “And you’re in charge of all this.”
The light in her eyes dimmed. Her defenses had snapped back into place.
“I am.” She said it flatly, as if expecting a challenge.
He’d give her one. “What makes you the right candidate for this job?”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll have trained counselors to work with the boys. My role is strictly to take care of the behind-the-scenes operation.”
“That’s what I meant.”
She stared him down. “I’ve got a B.A. in business administration and eight years’ experience working with newly established companies.”
He nodded. “Not in this area of the country, I take it, since you’ve made a move and brought everything with you.”
“My sister, Kayla, lives here. She’s married to one of the local ranchers. I’m from Chicago.”
A city girl, then. Probably knew nothing about live critters except maybe for cats. “A boys’ school doesn’t exactly follow along the lines of one of your big-city corporations.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you saying?”
“For Caleb’s sake, I hope you know something about dealing with kids.” He gripped the mug again.
“I told you, my job is behind the scenes. And from here I do it all. Budgets, schedules, spreadsheets, insurance—” she gestured around the office again “—and whatever admin work needs to be done. And I have other experience that makes me qualified to deal with the boys. I’m sure they’ll be much easier to work with than some men.” She eyed him steadily.
No trouble catching any of that. Irritation had made her bite off every word.
“By the way,” she said in the same clipped tones, “since you’re determined to share the house, then we’ll be taking turns with the meals.” Over the rim of her mug, her eyes gleamed.
She thought she’d one-upped him.
He’d go her one better—though he knew the reaction he would get. “I don’t cook.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “I’ll take my meals with the ranch hands in the bunkhouse.”
“That’s fine with me.”
“Right,” he said under his breath.
“What?”
“Right. Glad we’ve got that settled. As for the rest—” he looked around the room, then forced a smile “—I’m not a fan of organized chaos. You do your job, I’ll do mine. And we’ll stay out of each other’s way.”
Chapter Four
“The supply sheds still need to get stocked,” Caleb said as he and Ryan stood in the horse barn, after their return from inspecting the western boundary. “The larger one first, since we’ll start off grazing the herd near there.”
Ryan nodded and made a mental note. “I’ll add it to the list.” He had spent the morning with Tony and a couple of the wranglers, hauling around all the new tack and equipment the boss had bought to outfit the barn. Close enough to the house that he could be ready to head out on his second tour with Caleb as soon as he was needed.
And far enough from the house to keep him out of range of Lianne.
Grimacing, his boss stretched. It was easy enough to see that another long afternoon in the saddle had him tired and sore.
“Getting to be an old man,” Caleb said.
Ryan laughed.
“Aw, you don’t know old,” said Tony from his stool beside the mare he was grooming. By the look of him, he was pushing eighty.
“Well, I do know I’m ready to head for home.” Caleb looked at Ryan. “You remember we’re having dinner tomorrow?”
“It’s number one on my list.”
“Good. Tess and Nate are looking forward to seeing you again—”
Lianne had said the same about them.
“—and the ladies are eager to meet you.”
“Are they?” How much had Caleb told them of his situation?
“Yeah.” Caleb looked over at Tony. “Roselynn—Tess’s mom—is a real Georgia peach. Roselynn’s sister...” He grinned. “Let’s just call Ellamae a chili pepper.”
“She hot tempered?”
“No, she just likes to spice thing up.”
Tony chuckled. “My kinda woman. I gotta meet her.”
“I’m sure you will one of these days. She’s bound to show up here to check things out.”
After a couple of other reminders for Ryan’s mental list, Caleb said his farewells. From the barn doorway, Ryan watched him head in the direction of the corral, where he had left his truck.
The back door of the ranch house opened, and Lianne stepped onto the porch. She called Caleb’s name, then hurried across the yard to him, her blond hair streaming in the sun.
She moved like a thoroughbred. He’d noticed those long slim racehorse legs of hers right away. Well, after he’d gotten past the angry glare in her blue eyes.
Tony had come up to stand beside him. He gave an appreciative whistle. “Whoo. Speaking of women. She’s a sight to behold, ain’t she?”
Ryan shrugged. He’d looked at women, even all through his marriage—hell, he was a red-blooded male. But he hadn’t often bothered to look twice.
He did want to work well with the men here. “She’s not bad.”
“Not bad?” Tony chuckled. “Boy, you must need glasses more than I do. I can’t hardly see the print in the newspaper anymore, but my long distance never lets me down. Even from here, I can tell she’s easy on the eyes.”
He had to agree.
They watched her leave Caleb beside the corral and make her way back to the house.
“Mmm-mmm,” Tony murmured. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her yet, but I’m looking forward to that. Maybe I’ll go chat her up sometime.” His grin turned his face into a mass of wrinkles. “Like while you’re off having your Sunday dinner with the folks.”
“She’s going, too.”
Tony’s face fell. “Well, dang. Now I’m disappointed Caleb didn’t invite me along.”
You can take my place.
A sentence Ryan surely wished he could say aloud.
Supper at the Whistlestop Inn might be all in a night’s pleasure for the boss, but it was going to be work for him. A command performance at the least, if not a test to see how he could handle himself. So far Caleb hadn’t put him in as manager. He hadn’t said anything about his job.
When it came to aging, neither Caleb nor Tony knew the true meaning of the word.
He was the one getting old, fast.
* * *
RYAN MADE SHORT work of his shower and didn’t waste any time getting dressed. Back in his room, halfway through straightening his cuffs, he stilled. It had been over a year since he’d dressed for a night out.
Only a week later, he had worn a plain long-sleeved white shirt like this one...with his dark suit....
One quick tug popped the snaps running down his chest. He pulled his arms free of the sleeves and shoved the shirt into his duffel bag. Whatever T-shirt he grabbed from the drawer would have to do.
At the dresser, he couldn’t keep from looking at the picture frame pressed neatly against the beveled edge of the mirror. Safe. Secure. Still facedown.
He ran his comb through his damp hair, tucked the comb into his jeans pocket and left the bedroom. Maybe left the bad memories behind long enough to face the uncomfortable evening waiting ahead.
Halfway down the stairs, he jerked to a halt.
Lianne sat on the couch in the living room, her blond hair trailing down to the cell phone in her hands, her thumbs a blur as they flew over the keys. They’d gotten through the day without seeing each other, except to haggle over the shower.
She’d dressed up for the occasion. Flat red sandals, a brightly flowered skirt and a red blouse that was all fluffy and soft with lace edging.
The kind of thing Jan used to like.
Would the damn memories ever stop?
He couldn’t speak, could only clear his throat, trying to get the woman’s attention. Trying to get them moving and out of there so he could focus on the road and the drive into town and forget everything else.
She didn’t look up or, as far as he could see, miss a beat from her texting. Ignoring him. No surprise.
He continued to the bottom of the stairs, wishing the quiet would last. Knowing with her around he didn’t have a chance.
She slid her phone into a small red bag and stood. “All set?” he asked.
He held open the front door and then followed her out to the yard.
“We can go in my car,” she announced. She stopped and looked back at him, her hand on the driver’s door of the Camry.
He shook his head. “I’ll drive.”
“I have a license, you know.”
“I’m sure you do.” He jerked his thumb toward his truck. “I need to gas up.” As he turned away, he tried to lighten the statement. “Since I don’t know where anything is, how about you ride shotgun.”
“What?”
After a deep breath, he turned back. “Ride shotgun,” he repeated. “It means—”
“I know what it means.”
And she hated the idea. This was one heck of a spot Caleb had put him in....
He’d put himself in.
He winced. “Listen, I don’t like the situation any more than you do. But there’s no getting around it now. Unless you want to take Caleb up on his suggestion to stay at the Whistlestop.” She lowered her head slightly to stare at him, reminding him of a headstrong mare he’d once known. “Okay, then. We’ll be sharing quarters. And we can agree to disagree, if that’s what you want. But things might run a whole lot smoother if we didn’t argue every time we opened our mouths.”
“I wasn’t arguing with you,” she snapped.
His turn. He stared her down.
“I didn’t mean to yell.” Now she kept her voice so soft and low, he could barely make out the words. “But I wasn’t arguing. I just couldn’t see what you said.”
He frowned.
Her face froze. Slowly, her eyes widened. “I don’t believe it. You don’t know, do you?” She shook her head in wonder. “You haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Figured what out?”
“I’m deaf.”
He opened his mouth and snapped his jaw closed again.
She stared at him, her eyes glinting in triumph the way they had when she had thought she’d one-upped him over taking turns with the meals.
Before he could respond, she opened the passenger door and climbed into the truck. He shook his head. Though he’d suspected she might have some hearing loss, it had never crossed his mind that she was deaf.
But she was right. He’d had enough clues to figure things out. She had jumped when he had walked up to help her unload her car. She hadn’t heard that gigantic crash in the office. And she had stared at Caleb the entire time he had talked to her yesterday.
Sometimes she even gave him her attention when he spoke.
Through the rear window of the cab, he could see her waiting, seat belt in place over her shoulder. She hadn’t wanted to ride in the truck, and now it looked as if nothing would get her out of it.
When he started the engine with a roar, habit had him reaching toward the dashboard. He froze, considered, then went ahead and turned the radio on. He always listened to the sports station.
A second later she reached out, too. Unlike him, she didn’t hesitate. Instead, she hit the scanner till whatever number she’d searched for popped up. A hard-rock station, judging by the screech coming out of the speakers. Nothing could irritate him more.
He was wrong.
She wasn’t finished.
She cranked up the volume till his ears rang and pushed the bass level to the max. He’d swear the danged windshield shivered. Clamping his jaw shut again, he rolled down his side window.
He fought not to look over at her. Why should he, when he already knew what he’d see? But to prove a point to himself for a change, he gave in and glanced across the cab.
Sure enough. Just what he’d expected. More sparkles in those big blue eyes and a wide smile on her pink mouth.
Again she thought she’d scored a mark on him.
Obviously, their situation meant only fun and games to her.
Let her play.
As he’d told her the other night, they both had jobs to do. And worrying about her didn’t make it onto any of his lists.
* * *
ELLAMAE STOOD IN the middle of the kitchen at the Whistlestop Inn and put her hands on her hips. The minute dinner was done, she and her sister, Roselynn, had had the good sense to shoo their guests and Nate out to the backyard.
Now the rest of them could get down to business.
“Ryan seems like a good man,” she stated, checking faces to make sure no one disagreed with her judgment.
“He is a good man,” Tess said.
Roselynn paused with the refrigerator door half-open. “Poor boy, he’s had a bad time of it.”
“Yeah,” Ellamae said thoughtfully. “And he’s due for a change.”
She and the other two gals looked at the only man in the room.
Caleb held his hands up as if to ward them all off. “You’ll get no argument from me, ladies. My point in bringing him down here is to give him a chance to pull himself together again. Whether he can do that or not, only time will tell.”
“Time is just what he needs,” Tess agreed.
“Being in a new environment will help,” Roselynn said.
He nodded. “That’s the whole idea.”
“I can’t imagine what he’s going through.” Tess rested her head against Caleb’s shoulder.
“Not something I’d even want to consider.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
His jaw had hardened and his eyes had gone tight. Ellamae frowned, knowing what thoughts must’ve run through his head. Caleb had gone through hard times and come out a better man for it.
His ranch foreman would do the same, with luck—and a little help from Caleb’s family.
When Tess and Caleb left the kitchen laden down with trays of mugs and the coffeepot, Ellamae glanced at her sister.
Roselynn looked back, her forehead wrinkled in concern. “He’s upset over the whole situation, El, and who can blame him? I told him he did the right thing bringing Ryan here.”
“Agreed,” Ellamae said. “All along, it sounded like the boy was a powder keg sitting up in Montana, just waiting for a match to light his fuse. But I’ve got a feeling the distractions around here are going to take him right out of himself.”
“I hope so. Although I don’t see much difference between one ranch and another.”
“It’s not the job that’s going to keep him—and us—busy.”
“Oh, no.” Roselynn shook her head. “Ellamae, he’s still grieving.”
“I didn’t say we’d get busy immediately.”
“You can’t possibly be thinking of getting up to anything.”
She gripped the damp dishcloth she’d just used to clean the counter. “For crying out loud, woman. It’s not me. Rose, sometimes, I swear you walk around with blinders on. You saw Lianne all through supper. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t see the sparks from her flying across the table?”
“How do you figure that? She didn’t say a word to him.”
“I rest my case.” She sighed. Sometimes Rose needed to be approached from a different angle. “Haven’t we said all along Lianne’s a wonderful girl?”
“Of course we have. And I want her to be as happy as Tess.” Roselynn’s face brightened. “What about Kayla and Sam’s foreman? You know Jack’s always been interested in her. And they get together whenever she comes to visit.”
She waved the idea away. “He’s a nice man but not good enough for Lianne.”
“Well, I don’t know....” Roselynn picked up the loaded dessert tray. “Ryan’s just arrived in town. He hasn’t even settled down yet.”
“He won’t get the chance to settle down.” She laughed and tossed the dishcloth into the sink. “Trust me—” And why wouldn’t anyone trust her, since she always knew what was what about everything? “—we’ll be taking things nice and easy on this one. Give those two a little time on their own out at the ranch, and Lianne will have that boy well and truly riled up.”
* * *
“WE’RE HAVING PECAN PIE,” Nate said, spinning a couple of napkin-wrapped forks on the table. “Aunt El’s best!”
Lianne smiled. Caleb’s wife, Tess, was on the quiet side, while their preteen daughter was exactly the opposite. Nate reminded Lianne of herself at that age—a bit of a tomboy and always willing to take charge.
As guests, she and Ryan had been sent outside with Nate to sit at one of the picnic tables scattered across the Whistlestop’s backyard. The girl hadn’t stopped talking since they had left the house. A good thing, since Lianne wasn’t sure she wanted to be left alone with Ryan.
“Gram’s bringing the pie.” Nate looked at him. “Aunt El wouldn’t let me carry your piece because she said I’d snitch some of your pecans. But I wouldn’t do that. Not the first time, anyhow.”
All through dinner, Lianne had managed to keep up with the conversations—except when they involved much input from Nate. When she was excited, which was often, she talked right over others. Her exuberance, combined with how fast she spoke, made lipreading next to impossible.
She gave Nate a lot of credit for wanting to learn how to communicate with her and Becky, especially because many people never made the attempt. But now, as the girl moved on to tell Ryan a long story about a rodeo, she seemed to have forgotten she knew a single sign.
Lianne looked away, giving her eyes a rest. She made sure to keep her gaze from going anywhere near Ryan.
On their ride to the inn, he had done the same.
In the truck, she’d noticed he had shaved after his shower, closely enough for her to see the small muscle tic in his otherwise smooth jaw. She knew what that telltale tic meant. He’d had no idea what to say to her.
Though they had left the ranch house hours ago, she could still recall the way his eyes had darkened when she told him she was deaf. From shock, probably. Surprise, for sure.
She was used to both, and worse. Over the years, she’d had to explain to hundreds of people that she couldn’t hear. She had built up a thick skin, an armor that protected her against any reaction.
But today, for the first time in her life, she hadn’t felt ready to hear a response. And she didn’t want to think about what that meant.
Nate patted her arm. “Lianne, did you tell Ryan all about the school?”
“Yes, I did.” She’d better not miss a word of this conversation now. Not in front of the man sitting across from her.
Nate looked up at Ryan. “You’re gonna help Daddy with the wranglers, right?”
“Right.”
“And Lianne’s running the ranch.”
“Is she?” he asked.
“Yep. She’s helping Daddy build the school. It’s gonna be a camp, too. Isn’t that great? But don’t worry, it won’t be like a dude ranch or anything.”
Recalling her conversation with Ryan about that, Lianne couldn’t keep from looking his way. He was watching her.
His hazel eyes had changed, chameleon-like, picking up the color from his T-shirt. The green of an impending storm had given way to the brighter shade of grass after the rain. The sight sent a rush of pleasure through her.
Nate patted her arm again. She tore her gaze away from Ryan.
“There will be lots of horses at the ranch, right?”
She nodded at Nate. “Right. The boys will have plenty of chances for horseback rides.”
From across the lawn, Caleb and Tess approached, each carrying a tray.
“This is how you say horse, Ryan.” Nate rested the tip of her thumb against her temple with her index and middle fingers together and standing straight up. She tapped both fingers in the air twice the way Lianne had taught her.
He nodded.
“Try it,” she insisted.
“Nate,” Caleb said, “why don’t you give Gram and Aunt El a hand with dessert?”
“Okay,” she agreed, bounding to her feet. “So long as I get the biggest piece of pie.”
“We’ll give that to one of our guests,” her mother said. “And later you and I will have another talk about sharing.”
As Nate ran off, Caleb set his tray on the picnic table. “Coffee’s ready.”
“Can I pour for you?” Lianne asked.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it covered,” Caleb said. “Tess is training me.”
“Yes, and it’s a slow process.” Tess smiled at Caleb to take the sting from her words.
Lianne smiled, too. Like Kayla and Sam, these two were lucky to have each other.
Tess turned toward Lianne. “I hope you found things okay over at the house.”
“Everything’s great.” She spoke firmly, trying to convince herself as much as Tess. “So far I’ve seen everything I could possibly want in the house.”
And one person she didn’t want there at all.
She tried not to look at the man across the table as she reached for the mug Caleb held out to her.
She owed Caleb so much. The job. The chance to prove herself. Even the house she was living in rent-free. The big ranch house, with lots of rooms to get lost in.
Growing up with so many other kids around, she’d never had the luxury of a room to herself. Unlike Nate, she’d also never had a problem with sharing.
Before now.
Chapter Five
Their second helpings of pie finished, Ryan and Caleb had moved to a couple of lawn chairs. The one Ryan had taken provided him with a clear view of the far side of the yard, where Lianne sat at a table near a row of pine trees laced with tiny white lights. After dessert Nate had ferried Lianne over there for a sign language lesson.
Caleb’s mother-in-law hefted the coffeepot. “I’ll be right out with a refill.”
Caleb and Tess made vague comments about continuing his “training” and followed her.
“What did you think of the dessert?” asked the older woman seated near him.
Grateful for the distraction, he turned to Tess’s aunt. With her grizzled gray hair and tanned skin, Ellamae could have passed for Tony’s female twin.
All during the meal, she and Roselynn had sent platters and plates and bowls of food in his direction, urging him to take extra. Three rounds later he’d finally quit saying yes. He recalled Caleb’s warning that she liked to “spice things up.” But after kindness like that, he was willing to give the woman the benefit of the doubt.
“Dessert was great,” he said truthfully. “One of the best pecan pies I’ve ever tasted.”
He took a long, bracing swallow of coffee. One advantage to not sleeping—no worries about too much caffeine.
Ellamae did the same, eyeing him over the rim of her mug. “You’re a long way from Montana. It’s your first visit to New Mexico, isn’t it? And of course, your first time here in town.”
“Yes, ma’am, it is.” And probably the last. As things stood now, he knew once he’d gotten free of his obligations here, he’d never want to see the place again. Whether he went back home or not... He’d have to see how things stood then.
“You’ll have to make sure and look me up next time you’re in town,” she said. “I’ll show you around, introduce you to a few folks. And there’s always something going on at the community center.”
That was the last thing he needed. “Thanks. I imagine I’ll be sticking close to the ranch for a while. It’s a busy time over there.”
Across the yard, Nate gave a loud frustrated groan.
Lianne laughed and brushed her blond hair back over one shoulder. Caleb had lit the hurricane lamps on the picnic tables, and in their glow her hair rippled like a river catching the first rays of the sun.
Fine poetic thoughts from a man whose literary heights ran to Louis L’Amour novels. And not thoughts he wanted to have at all.
“Good to know you’re enjoying your new surroundings.”
He’d forgotten about the woman sitting right next to him, who had trained her sharp-eyed gaze on him again. “Flagman’s Folly does seem like a nice place,” he said, choosing to misunderstand her. “At least, from what I’ve seen so far.”
“Uh-huh.” The ghost of a grin on her wrinkled face told him she hadn’t fallen for his redirection. But she rolled with it anyway. “From what I heard around the office the other day, you got a fairly good glimpse of Signal Street.”
Frowning, he looked over to Lianne and back again.
“Nope,” the older woman said.
“Caleb?” Even as she shook her head, he strung her words together and made the connection. “You work at Town Hall.”
She nodded. “As town clerk for more than forty years now. That’s a lot of water under the bridge.”
And a long history of loyalty to Judge Baylor, he’d bet.
Should have heeded Caleb’s warning after all.
After tonight he’d make sure to keep away from her.
“The judge has almost as much experience reading folks as I have,” she said, “though he’s not quite as generous in giving them the benefit of the doubt. Early on, anyway. He’s seen too many situations where folks have let circumstances steer them in the wrong direction.” She couldn’t have made it any more clear that she knew all about his situation. And she didn’t bother to hide the gleam in her eyes.
Damn him—though he wanted not to care, his desire to learn more equaled hers. “Does everybody in Flagman’s Folly know what’s brought me here?”
Again she shook her head. “Most folks know Caleb brought you here, and that’s the extent of it. But he and the judge get along.”
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