A Family In Wyoming
Lynnette Kent
A Cowboy’s ProtectionRancher Wyatt Marshall always does what's right. He raised his three brothers and is currently hosting at-risk teens on his family's ranch. So when Susannah Bradley and her children seek refuge at the Circle M, fleeing an abusive husband, Wyatt immediately invites her into his home… His heart, though, is off-limits.Susannah is drawn to the stoic cowboy, but the ever-honorable Wyatt keeps her at a distance, refusing to get in the way of Susannah starting a new life. But for the first time, Susannah is free to go after what she really wants…and increasingly what she wants is the life she has on the Circle M—with Wyatt.
A COWBOY’S PROTECTION
Rancher Wyatt Marshall always does what’s right. He raised his three brothers and is currently hosting at-risk teens on his family’s ranch. So when Susannah Bradley and her children seek refuge at the Circle M, fleeing an abusive husband, Wyatt immediately invites her into his home… His heart, though, is off-limits.
Susannah is drawn to the stoic cowboy, but the ever-honorable Wyatt keeps her at a distance, refusing to get in the way of Susannah starting a new life. But for the first time, Susannah is free to go after what she really wants…and increasingly what she wants is the life she has on the Circle M—with Wyatt.
Susannah gave Wyatt a smile.
“There’s something comforting about watching children sleep,” Susannah said. “They relax like there can’t be anything wrong in the world.”
“Then we lose that trust when we realize the world isn’t always going to take care of us.”
“Which you found out at an early age.” Despair wavered in her voice. “I wish my children hadn’t learned it so soon.”
Wyatt closed his hands over her shoulders, massaging gently at the tense muscles under his fingers. “It’ll be all right. You’ll get through this. I’ll make sure of it.”
She sighed. “That feels good.”
His body tightened at the husky tone of her words, but only a deep breath betrayed him. When she tilted her head to one side, he moved his grip to the cords between her shoulders and neck, still kneading at the stiffness.
“Wonderful,” she whispered. After a few moments, she turned around to face him. In the dim light of the hall, she gazed up at him, her eyes wide and dark. “You’re wonderful.”
Dear Reader (#u6d3d95ba-3ebe-56d7-b4d2-d2411032e6ae),
Families are wonderful. And complicated. They’re built in different ways, through marriage and childbirth, but also through great friendship and mutual caring. Sometimes, everyone lives in the same little town—or the same big city—and they see each other nearly every day. Then again, some families are separated by long distances, even oceans or continents. Soon, I’ll have one daughter and son-in-law living on the East Coast and one on the West Coast, with other members of the family spread out from Florida to Delaware. We get together only occasionally, but when we do, it feels as if we’ve never been apart. That’s the best kind of closeness a family can know.
The Marshall Brothers books are all about family. Wyatt Marshall has held his together since he was sixteen, taking responsibility for his three younger brothers while his own hopes to be a husband and dad were dashed. As a teenager, Susannah Bradley ran away from her parents to start what she thought would be a terrific new life. Despite her two beloved children, though, her marriage has fallen apart. When Susannah takes refuge at Wyatt’s ranch for the summer, these two wounded souls are drawn together, but taking a chance on new love is never as easy the second time around.
I hope you enjoy Wyatt and Susannah’s story, the fourth book in the Marshall Brothers set. Please feel free to write to me—I love hearing from readers at my website, lynnettekentbooks.com (http://www.lynnettekentbooks.com), or via regular mail at PO Box 204, Vass, NC 28394.
Wishing you all the best and happy reading!
Lynnette Kent
A Family in Wyoming
Lynnette Kent
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LYNNETTE KENT lives on a farm in southeastern North Carolina with her six horses and six dogs. When she isn’t busy riding, driving or feeding animals, she loves to tend her gardens and read and write books.
The Marshall Brothers owe their happy endings to many of my friends and family…especially Abby, who let me borrow a family story of her own, as well as Sarah, Sandy, Pat and Lynna, who took a sincere interest in these tales and offered ideas, advice and lots of loving support; Pam, who has ridden through most of my books with me and is the specialist when it comes to motivation and backstory; and, as always, Martin, Elizabeth and Rebecca, who have learned to live with my characters and talk about them as if they were part of our family, meanwhile putting up with a distracted and occasionally desperate writer in residence.
To all of you, I offer my most heartfelt thanks!
I’d also like to say a word of appreciation to Adrienne Macintosh, my editor for the Marshall Brothers books, who has been generous, patient, insightful and kind.
Working with you has been a pleasure and a privilege.
Contents
Cover (#ub67344db-0c41-5a02-a1c1-2fbeb7789ded)
Back Cover Text (#u94bd9d39-f013-5a98-b264-e481af86032b)
Introduction (#u9a4e5b58-249c-5dff-84a3-a3707c915107)
Dear Reader (#u15fb9839-f9ba-53a3-9231-a0369b40aeba)
Title Page (#u2d7fdaaf-4756-59a0-b244-505d6057dbbc)
About the Author (#u5e0da992-0f19-5e63-84d7-6faf74657ea3)
Dedication (#ud6d92a86-6fde-5a65-80d6-96d565dc6898)
Chapter One (#ua4980858-5607-5a42-9faa-06589c2741cc)
Chapter Two (#u0b9487ac-132e-5567-a798-e6cb99e442a9)
Chapter Three (#u5adbe8ee-a133-5fc8-b067-88d26d824354)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u6d3d95ba-3ebe-56d7-b4d2-d2411032e6ae)
June
Lying in wait at the screen door, Honey the golden retriever suddenly lifted her head. A moment later, Wyatt Marshall heard it, too—the rumble of a truck on the drive. With relief, he put down the book he’d been failing to read. “About time, isn’t it, girl?”
Honey got up as he joined her at the door. Together they stepped outside just as headlights appeared in the distance. The six teenagers who’d been stationed on the front porch for the last two hours scrambled to their feet, cell phones forgotten for the moment.
“I was beginning to worry,” Wyatt’s youngest brother, Dylan, said as he came to stand beside him.
Garrett, the next oldest, posted himself at the foot of the steps. “I’m still worried. We don’t know if they found Nate.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Ford wouldn’t come back without him.”
The truck pulled to a stop in front of the house and Ford strode around the hood of the vehicle. “Sorry we took so long.” He opened the front passenger door for Caroline Donnelly, the local social worker. “There were complications.”
Wyatt frowned. “Is everybody alright?”
With her feet on the ground, Caroline offered a reassuring smile. “They will be, now that we’ve got them.”
“Them?”
Ford opened the rear door and leaned inside. When he straightened up, he was cradling a young child in his arms. Then a woman emerged, followed by Nate Bradley. Nate was one of the camp kids the Marshalls were hosting on their ranch this summer. He’d run away earlier this evening—and gone straight home apparently.
Wyatt held the screen door as Ford led the way into the house and, without pausing, headed for the bedrooms down the hallway. Nate and the woman followed so quickly that Wyatt barely got a glimpse of her blond hair before they’d disappeared.
“His mother and little sister,” Garrett explained, in response to Wyatt’s questioning stare. “I guess finding Nate involved more conflict than we’d expected.”
“We’d better make coffee,” Wyatt said, and went to the kitchen. When Ford returned to the living room a couple of minutes later, Wyatt handed him a mug. “So what happened?”
After taking a long draw of the steaming brew, Ford sat down in a recliner by the fireplace. “Nate had gone home to check on his mom and sister. Unfortunately, his dad was in the house, drunk and furious. My arrival didn’t improve the situation, and he started venting his anger on Nate. I lost my temper, too, but the deputy showed up and controlled the situation before any damage was done. Susannah—that’s Nate’s mother—didn’t want to press charges, so we thought the safest plan was to bring her and her little girl, Amber, here.” He drank more coffee. “I’ll see about getting an order of protection in the morning.”
In the silence that followed, a light step sounded in the hallway. Wyatt glanced up from his own cup as Susannah Bradley stepped into the room.
His gut clenched as if he’d been punched. Tall and shapely, with dark blue eyes and plump pink lips, she was a woman any man would want to look at twice. Or maybe always. Her bright blond hair was pulled away from her face, but soft strands fell free, begging to be brushed away, played with, twisted around a gentle finger.
What slayed him, though, were the bruises on her skin. A dark shadow along the line of her jaw, a purple-and-yellow stain under her right eye. A bracelet of red around her wrist.
Wyatt choked down the need to find the bastard who’d hurt her and extract payment. Instead, he got to his feet and nodded in her direction. “Welcome to the Circle M, Ms. Bradley. Have a seat.” He motioned with his mug to the recliner by the fireplace and was relieved when she took him up on the offer. The light in the room shone indirectly there, calling less attention to her wounds. Though standing up aggravated the ache in his spine, sitting down felt worse, so he went to the entrance to the dining room and leaned a shoulder against the door frame.
“We made some hot chocolate for the kids,” Garrett said. “Or there’s coffee. Would you like a cup?”
Surprise tinged her smile. “You know, hot chocolate sounds wonderful. Thanks.”
Caroline came through the front door. “I sent the other kids to bed.” Her slender shoulders slumped and her face was pale. “It’s been a long evening.” She accepted her own cup of cocoa from Garrett and took a sip. “Mmm. Just right.” Then her gaze went to Susannah Bradley. “Did Amber settle in okay?”
“She fell asleep on the ride and never woke up. Nate’s sitting with her in case she does, but I’m pretty sure she’s down till morning.” She pressed her lips together, glancing from Ford to Wyatt. “I can’t ever thank you enough for taking us in. It’s such a huge imposition, us just showing up in the middle of the night.”
Wyatt put up a hand. “It’s not a problem at all. I’m glad we’re able to help. If there’s anything else we can do, just say the word.”
She turned her face away, blinking hard. He hated that he’d made her cry.
Once he’d finished his own cup of coffee, Dylan got up from the rocking chair. “Want me to walk Nate to the bunkhouse? I expect he’s dead on his feet.”
“Excellent idea.” Ford stood, as well. “We all could probably use some sleep.”
Caroline put a hand on Susannah Bradley’s shoulder. “We’ll get everything worked out. Just be confident that you and Nate and Amber are safe now.”
“Thank you so much.” She had a beautiful smile. And Wyatt could tell how it reassured her son when the boy followed Dylan into the room; Nate felt comfortable taking his own rest because his mom seemed to have everything under control.
But once Nate and the others stepped out the door, that smile disappeared. Bending her head, Susannah gazed into her mug, her brows drawn together and her lower lip between her teeth.
While Wyatt stood tongue-tied, Garrett sat down on the nearest end of the sofa. “Don’t worry about the future,” he told her. “You can let go tonight and face tomorrow’s challenges after a good rest. All you have to do right now is relax.” As a minister, he always knew what to say.
She drew a deep breath, but her shoulders remained stiff. “Travis is...unpredictable. If he followed us—”
This, Wyatt had the answer to. “You don’t have to be concerned about him. If he does show up here, he won’t get as far as the front steps.”
Her gaze took in the brace he wore, and her eyes widened. “You’re injured. And he might not make allowances...”
Garrett chuckled as he got to his feet. “Wyatt’s pretty formidable, even with a broken back. And there are four of us, remember. There’s nothing to be anxious about.” He gestured toward the mug she cradled between her palms. “More?”
Susannah shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Well, then, I’ve got a couple of hours of work to put in on this week’s sermon, so I’ll say good-night now and see you in the morning.” He nodded at Wyatt as he headed toward the back of the house. “Night, Boss.”
“Night.” They’d left him alone with Susannah Bradley. What was he supposed to do in this situation? His social skills, never all that adept to begin with, had rusted over the years through lack of use—he didn’t spend much time socializing anymore. To cover his cluelessness, Wyatt went to take a gulp from his own cup, only to find it empty.
That gave him an idea. “We can put these in the dishwasher.” He reached around the door frame and flipped on the dining room light. “It’s this way.”
Susannah followed as he skirted the table and chairs they used for most meals and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. When the light came on, he heard her gasp.
“What a beautiful room! I’ve never seen such a big kitchen!” As if she’d entered some kind of Wonderland, she wandered around, running a hand along the granite countertops, touching the cabinet doors, the drawer pulls, the edge of the stove. “How lovely it must be to cook here. So much space!” She faced him across the breakfast bar. “Did you build this house?”
He cleared his throat. “Not exactly. The bones were here, but we’ve done some renovating and additions over the years. Dylan’s an artist, so the kitchen was basically his plan, with some help from a company in Sheridan.” A question occurred to him. “Do you enjoy cooking?”
“Very much. You wouldn’t believe it to look at him, but Nate loves to eat. I don’t know how he stays so thin.”
Wyatt opened the front of the dishwasher only far enough to ease the upper rack out part of the way. “Kids use up a lot of energy growing. I remember my brothers did.”
Susannah came over to give him her cup. “He’s certainly been growing—he’s six inches taller this summer than last.”
“Must be hard to keep him in jeans that fit. At least we had hand-me-downs.” The front of the dishwasher rack was full. To pull it out all the way meant letting the door down, but that would require him to bend over to pick it up again—which hurt way more than he was ready to admit. They could just leave the cups in the sink and Garrett would take care of them in the morning...
“Let me,” Susannah said. In one smooth move, she opened the door all the way, stowed the cups, and then shut the dishwasher.
Wyatt felt like a chump. “Thanks.” Even to him, it resembled a growl.
But she didn’t take offense. “You’re welcome.” She leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “How did you get hurt?”
His face heated in embarrassment. “I was bucked off a young horse. He kicked up just as I threw my leg over, launching me like a rocket. I came down on my... I landed sitting down.”
To his surprise, she chuckled. “I imagine that experience hurt your pride even worse than your back.”
None of his brothers had dared to laugh at him. But her friendly gurgle was such a rich sound that he couldn’t dredge up the least bit of dudgeon. Wyatt grinned. “Could be.”
“Do you still have the horse?”
He nodded. “I’ll break him next summer, when he’s a year older and smarter. Sometimes they have to have more age on them.”
“Meanwhile, you’re going to spend this summer working with young humans, helping them become smarter.”
“So we hope. As the local social worker, Caroline collaborated with Garrett to propose a summer camp for troubled kids on the Circle M and I liked the idea—though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, wearing this stupid brace.”
He hadn’t shared that hesitation with his brothers or Caroline when they’d discussed their plans. There was something about Susannah Bradley that turned him positively chatty. “I’m not used to spending my days in the house.”
“I wouldn’t expect so.” She yawned suddenly and put up a hand to cover her mouth. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s late. And you’ve had a hard day. You should get some sleep. Anything you need?”
“Nothing at all.” A soft blush colored her face. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay your family for giving us refuge—”
Wyatt put up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. We’re glad to help. Now go to bed. I’m the boss around here and that’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.” Smiling, she crossed to the hallway door. “You’re very kind,” she said, before she left the kitchen.
Wyatt snorted to himself. Taking care of women and children didn’t fall into the category of “kind,” in his opinion. That was just a man’s responsibility.
Susannah Bradley had obviously encountered a different type of behavior. Wyatt had never met her husband, but he’d heard talk about him around town. Travis Bradley had shown up about a year ago, asking for work at ranches in the area and bragging about his cowboying skills, his rodeo wins. Nobody who’d hired him kept him on for long because he eventually showed up drunk—or didn’t show up at all.
Then Caroline Donnelly had proposed holding a summer camp for at-risk kids on the Circle M Ranch. Nate Bradley was one of those kids, a teenager who’d kept his secrets until tonight. Ford had encountered Nate’s dad at a recent rodeo and then rejected the man when he came looking for a job on the Circle M. Thank goodness he had, since they’d now discovered just how bad Nate’s home life could be when Travis took out his frustrations on his wife and kids.
But the Marshalls, with help from Caroline, would ensure that Travis never hurt his family again. As a lawyer, Ford would use his expertise to keep Bradley at a distance while Susannah figured out her next steps. Surely she had family she and her kids could count on for protection.
Realizing he was a long way from sleep himself, Wyatt poured a new cup of coffee as he considered the situation. Since her family had clearly been of little help to Susannah so far, maybe they wouldn’t take care of her and the kids the way they should now. In that case, she’d have to make her own way somehow, somewhere. But he couldn’t believe she would choose to stay with the man who left those marks on her skin. No woman deserved that kind of abuse. If she didn’t believe that fact, they would have to help her understand.
Returning to the living room, he eased himself into the rocking chair and picked up his book. Slumber didn’t come easily to him these days, since lying down flat in bed hurt his back. So did sitting and standing, but at least he could occupy his mind while he was awake, instead of lying there useless in the dark.
Rather than reading, though, he found himself thinking about Susannah—with more attention to detail than was good for him. That silky hair, those plump lips...long, slender legs under a denim skirt...a straight spine, conveying pride and strength. Graceful, gentle hands, which could comfort a child.
Or pleasure a man.
This time he growled for real, low in his throat. The woman was married. Even if the marriage ended, she’d been treated badly by a man she ought to be able to trust. Why would she take such a risk ever again?
Besides, at the age of thirty-six, Wyatt considered himself a confirmed bachelor, not a prospect for happily-ever-after. Too set in his ways, too busy for romantic nonsense, too cranky to live with young kids. His brothers would testify to his contrary ways. They argued with him about it often enough.
So getting to know Susannah Bradley as anything besides a casual friend would not be wise. He would help her all he could and then send her and her kids on their way to a new, better life. That was the best he could do for them.
And the safest thing he could do for himself.
* * *
EARLIER THAT NIGHT, frantic and ashamed, Susannah had grabbed a nightgown while throwing together some clothes to bring away with her. But she hadn’t realized it was this white one—the one with narrow straps, a low neckline and gossamer fabric that didn’t leave much to the imagination. She’d found it in a thrift shop when they’d lived in South Dakota, about a year after Amber was born. Travis had kept the same job for six months and life seemed to be straightening out, finally. Maybe, she’d thought, they could make another baby. She would love to have more children.
Then the drinking got out of hand again, as it always did. He was fired from the job, couldn’t find another, and so they moved on to Wyoming—Gillette, Sheridan, Buffalo, and now Bisons Creek, where their marriage and their life together had fallen to pieces.
Biting her lower lip, she folded up the nightgown and stuffed it to the bottom of her duffel bag, then eased down on top of the bedcovers still wearing her clothes. This serene bedroom, in shades of cream and coffee, was far and away the most luxurious place she’d stayed since leaving her parents’ home. It was furnished with a queen-sized bed draped with a cozy comforter and softened by plenty of pillows, a dresser with a mirror above and two armchairs for relaxing, plus a private bathroom. The Marshall brothers offered their guests all the amenities she imagined could be found in an expensive hotel.
And her little girl had taken full advantage. Curled up on her side, a chubby thumb pressed into that pouty lower lip and blond curls tousled across the pillowcase, Amber slept deeply. She must be exhausted.
Her mother certainly was, but sleep had never seemed further away. Her brain wrestled endlessly with the mistakes of the past and the troubles of the present—not to mention the questions posed by an unknown future. Eyes burning, she yawned and shifted position but simply could not relax enough to doze off.
After two restless hours, she sighed and sat up, swinging her legs off the bed. Maybe a glass of water would help. Or a walk around the house. At this late hour, she wouldn’t disturb anyone. She’d leave her shoes off to be sure she didn’t make any noise on the wooden floors.
The long hallway was dark, all the doors except for the kitchen’s closed. There, a light shone above the sink. She opened the upper cabinet to the right and found the drinking glasses just where she’d expect them to be. Smiling at having guessed correctly the first time, Susannah drank down two full tumblers of water and then set the glass in the dishwasher. She took a few minutes to appreciate the room yet again—she could picture racks of cookies and fragrant loaves of bread cooling on all this counter space. Amaretto cakes baked for Christmas, tomatoes and green beans and pickles canned in the summertime, a big Thanksgiving dinner with turkey and dressing and sweet potatoes and pies... This kitchen could produce all sorts of wonderful food for friends and family to enjoy.
She’d sorely missed friends and family since she and Travis got married. The only friends he ever made were his drinking buddies. His mother had disowned them both when she heard about their wedding. Her parents had been so hurt when she ran away, though they still called on her birthday...if they could find her. She and Travis had moved around a lot.
Remembering the home she’d left thirteen years ago, Susannah sighed and stepped toward the dining room. A kitchen like this was a dream she couldn’t envision for herself. To be honest, she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She didn’t deserve anything special, but her children needed something better than they’d had. A safe, stable life. How would she manage that on her own? Where would they go?
Pushing through the dining room door, she was surprised to see a light on in the living room...and even more surprised to find Wyatt Marshall seated in the rocking chair.
She stopped short. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would still be up.”
He shook his head. “No problem. Can’t sleep?” A big man, with broad shoulders and long legs, he seemed to dominate the spacious room. The big, golden dog lay at his feet, its tail thumping the floor.
Susannah swallowed against a sudden surge of nervousness. “Not yet.”
“Sometimes your brain won’t shut off even when you need it to.” Thanks to the brace he wore, he was sitting bolt upright in the rocker, looking anything but comfortable. The strong planes of his face created an impression of austerity. But his deep-set brown eyes were compassionate. “Garrett is right. Worry and regrets won’t change anything tonight. Right now your kids are safe. You’ve got friends you can count on. Your troubles will keep until morning.”
“Until morning. Got it.” Seeking a distraction, she nodded toward the book in his hand. “Is the story so good it’s keeping you awake?”
A smile widened his well-shaped lips. “My back keeps me awake, but the book gives me something to focus on besides how much I’d rather be in bed.” After a pause, he cleared his throat. “Asleep.”
“What is the story about?”
With a finger marking his place, he showed her the cover, which featured a sword and a shield. “The Battle of Thermopylae in 480 BC.”
Susannah frowned. “I don’t know what that is. Was.”
“A small force of Greek soldiers held off the Persian army for a week and then lost their lives defending a narrow pass through the hills. The soldiers’ example inspired the rest of the country, and eventually the Persians were defeated in their attempt to take over all of Europe. It’s a pretty important moment in history.”
Examining the shelves flanking the fireplace, she saw that many of the volumes were about war. “Are battles your favorite subject?”
He came to join her in front of the books. “I enjoy history, especially military history. So much of human destiny has been decided on the battlefield.”
She realized just how tall he was when she had to look up at his face. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
His keen gaze met hers. “Facts are facts. If you aren’t familiar with the past, you’re just going to repeat it.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that quote before. But maybe we use the past too often as a pattern, instead of searching for new solutions.”
Wyatt closed his book and slotted it into an opening on the shelf, before turning toward her. “An interesting point of view. Sounds as if you’ve done some reading of your own.”
“Not really. Not...lately.” She moved away from the shelves. Away from his attention. “My parents were both teachers. They talked about ideas at the supper table.”
“That’s a good way to learn.”
Foolish, to bring up such painful memories. “It should have been. But I was a careless teenager, more involved with my friends and boys than what they had to say.” Running a finger along the top of the rocking chair, she blew out a deep breath. “I wasted the opportunity.”
“It’s never too late to learn.”
“Oh, I think sometimes it is. Right now I’m more concerned about what to do for Nathan and Amber than what happened thousands of years ago.”
“You do have some decisions to make. Forgive me for butting in, but I’m hoping one of them isn’t to go back to that bastard who hurts you.”
The intense anger in his voice mirrored her own. “That’s not an option. He stepped over the line tonight with Nathan. I can’t let him hurt my children.”
“Good for you.”
She gripped the rail of the rocker with both hands. “But I don’t know what comes next. Ford said something about an order of protection. Are we supposed to stay in the trailer after that? Where will Travis live? If he stays there, how will I get the children’s clothes and toys?” Once again, concerns and uncertainties ambushed her, buzzing in from all directions. “Where will I get a job in a place as small as Bisons Creek? Or do we have to move to find work? Where? How can I secure a place to live without a paycheck? What about—”
Appalled, Susannah clapped her hands over her mouth to stop the flow of words. What had possessed her to unload on Wyatt Marshall like that? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered from behind her palms.
He came to stand about an arm’s length away. “I can solve a couple of those problems.”
She uncovered her face. “You’ve already done more than enough. I shouldn’t be bothering—”
“Maybe you ought to stay here for a while. At least for the summer, while your son’s in camp.”
“I couldn’t possibly impose on you for so long.”
“You could if you worked as our housekeeper and cook.”
Hearing the words made her mind go blank. She could only stare at him in shock.
“Even if I wasn’t trussed up in this brace, I’ve never been much good in the kitchen,” he said with a lift of his big hands. “Or the rest of the house, for that matter. This summer, my brothers are going to be tied up with the ranch work I can’t do, plus the kids in the camp. Dylan’s got sculptures to work on, Garrett has his responsibilities at the church, and Ford will be going back to his law office in San Francisco soon. We really need somebody who can take care of this place, maybe put together a meal for me now and then. We would pay you, of course. And you’d be safe here while you got things...straightened out...with your husband.”
“I—I don’t know what to say.” She could barely breathe, let alone think. “C-can I give you an answer tomorrow?”
“Sure. Whenever you decide. In the meantime, make yourself at home.” His smothered yawn seemed too convenient to be real. “I believe I’m ready to hit the sack. Just flip the light off when you’re ready.” He stopped at the doorway to the hall but didn’t glance back. “Night, Susannah. Come on, Honey.”
She started, then realized that was the dog’s name. “Good night.” On impulse, she added, “What time do you eat breakfast?”
Wyatt pivoted to face her again. He wore a big grin. “I’m sleeping late these days, don’t get up much before six or six thirty.” Touching two fingers to an invisible hat brim, he nodded. “See you in the morning.”
Standing in the living room, Susannah listened as his footsteps receded down the hallway. Wyatt Marshall struck her as a remarkable man. Despite his injury, he seemed to be in control—of himself, of his surroundings, of life in general. And his generosity amazed her. Not only was he holding a summer camp for teenagers on his ranch, but he’d offered a solution to her most pressing problem—she and the children could stay on the ranch while she saved up the money she needed to find a new home and a real job. His kindness might even extend to giving her a reference she could use when she applied. How helpful that would be!
After turning out the living room lamp, she went back to the lovely guest room, where she saw that Amber still hadn’t stirred. With her shoulders sagging under the weight of fatigue, Susannah folded down the covers on her side of the bed, finally ready to rest. She had just lifted her feet off the floor when her cell phone gave a familiar ring.
Travis.
She jumped up and grabbed her purse off the dresser, rummaged for the phone...but then hesitated as it rang again. Should she answer?
With the third ring, Amber frowned and her eyelashes fluttered. “Mommy?”
Susannah leaned over to put a palm on her daughter’s shoulder. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.” With her free hand, she pushed the button to talk. “Hello?”
“Susie? Susie, honey, where are you?” His words were slurred. “I miss you, sweetie. Come home.” He’d moved through the anger phase of being drunk and would now become more and more maudlin. If she were there, she’d put him to bed and he’d sink into unconsciousness.
“Susie?”
“I can’t come home.” The words were hard to say. She’d loved him for so long. Just not anymore. “We won’t be back, Travis.”
“Don’t say that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, honey.” He sniffed hard, as if he was crying. “I’ll change. Really, I will. I’ll go to AA. That social worker can help me.”
Thirteen years of promises were as much as she could take. “No, Travis. Not this time.”
The rage flared up. “They’re my kids, too. You can’t keep them from me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered Nathan, crumpled on the floor where his father had thrown him earlier that night. “I told you that if you hurt them, I would keep them away from you. And you did that tonight.”
In the long silence that followed, she could hear his fractured breathing, could picture him trying to pull himself together.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said. “Give me another chance, Susie. We’ll make it work.” When she didn’t answer, he continued to plead. “We were good together, you know? We’ve had lots of fun, even with the kids. I can get it together, find a job. Don’t give up on me, Susie, I swear—”
Susannah pressed the button to end the call and then turned off the phone altogether. As she curled up on the bed beside Amber, her eyes burned with tears. The despair she’d been fighting for hours threatened to swamp her.
She’d made such a mess of her life. Her children were suffering because of her foolishness, her bad choices. How could she ever compensate for those mistakes?
Wyatt’s deep, warm voice came into her head. Worry and regrets won’t change anything tonight... You’ve got friends you can count on. She recalled the concern in his brown eyes, the encouragement in his smile.
Friends. She hadn’t had many of those over the years. Travis never liked the women she’d tried to connect with...or else he liked them too well. Susannah hadn’t been blind to those affairs. But for some reason he had always come back to her.
Now, though, the Marshall brothers had declared themselves her friends. Caroline Donnelly would stand beside her, too. If they were willing to offer so much help, she couldn’t let them down. Couldn’t let her children down. Somehow she would have to dredge up the courage and determination to accept Wyatt’s offer. She would spend the summer working for him, doing whatever she could to make his recovery easier, maybe help with the kids’ camp, as well. Amber and Nathan would have a chance to recover from Travis’s influence and experience a more settled, responsible way of living.
At the end of the summer, she would find a job, probably in a bigger town like Casper, or Cheyenne or Laramie. As for a divorce...she’d already filed the papers, which had only made the situation worse. Travis had never hurt one of the children until tonight, when he was notified of her petition. Now that he knew, he would put up every roadblock he could think of to keep the kids, including a custody battle, and the court might very well give him visitation, at least. Then he would be part of their lives forever. The prospect drenched her with dread. What would it take for them to be free?
With her thoughts still in turmoil, Susannah began to wonder if she’d be awake all night long. Sleep finally claimed her but only until the sound of a shower running somewhere in the house roused her at five thirty. Anxious to start her new job—her new life!—responsibly, she groped her way out of bed and into the bathroom, where a cold washcloth on her face and arms dispelled most of the brain fog. She donned a clean shirt and jeans, combed her hair and twisted it into a messy bun. She even managed to put on some lipstick. Just as the shower cut off, she left the guest room and made her way to the kitchen.
But the coffeepot defeated her. A stainless-steel monster with no obvious controls, it lurked on the counter, daring her to do something stupid and break it. The only coffee she found was a bag of whole beans, beside a grinder as intimidating as the brewer. Susannah hung her head. Not even six o’clock and she’d already failed.
“Well, good morning!”
She whirled to find Garrett Marshall standing in the doorway. His wet hair identified him as the one who’d taken the shower. “G-good morning. I was going to make some coffee, but...”
He sent her a grin nearly as appealing as his older brother’s. “It’s quite a contraption, isn’t it? Dylan decided we should upgrade from the standard plastic-and-glass model.” He joined her at the counter. “I will admit this version makes a great brew. Let me run you through the process.”
Within minutes, they were sampling the results. Susannah savored the aroma rising from her mug. “I had no idea coffee could taste this rich. I’ll have a pot made at about five thirty tomorrow. And breakfast at six thirty. Will that work for you?”
Garrett shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. I usually make the coffee. As for breakfast—”
“It’s my job,” she told him with some pride. “Wyatt hired me last night to cook and keep house.”
The man on the other side of the breakfast bar gazed at her for a long moment. Then he chuckled. “Of course he did. It’s a great idea.” He offered a handshake. “Welcome to the staff at the Circle M. Wyatt is the main one you’ll be making breakfast for, besides yourself and Amber. Occasionally I’ll need something, too, and maybe Dylan, those mornings after he stays up late working on his sculpture. The camp kids do most of their own cooking, so Ford, Caroline and I try to show up for their meals as a gesture of support. I expect to lose a good ten pounds this summer, when all is said and done.”
She laughed with him. “I’ll have a supply of cookies on hand, to keep your strength up.”
“I’ll hold you to that promise.”
By six thirty, she’d explored all the cabinets and the refrigerator, started a pan of biscuits baking and arranged a place setting at the breakfast bar, where Garrett said Wyatt preferred to stand and eat. When she heard new steps coming down the hallway, she quickly poured a big cup of coffee and turned just in time to see Wyatt enter the kitchen. Wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and sweat pants, with his hair uncombed and his puffy-eyed face unshaven, he reminded her of a bear just coming out of hibernation.
She couldn’t help smiling at him. “Good morning! Here’s your coffee. How do you like your eggs?”
“Damnation,” he growled, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds. When he opened them again, he was scowling. “I’d forgotten you were here.”
So much for the first day of her new life!
Chapter Two (#u6d3d95ba-3ebe-56d7-b4d2-d2411032e6ae)
July
“Will you play with me?” a little voice asked. “Please?”
Honey, dozing on the floor beside the desk, raised her head at the intrusion. Wyatt started to glance over his shoulder, but a stab of pain in his back stopped him. With an irritated snort, he swiveled his chair away from the computer instead.
But his bedroom seemed to be empty. “Who’s there?”
The five-year-old peeked around the corner of his dresser. “Me.” She eyed him nervously. “Amber.”
Not wanting her to be afraid of him, he kept his tone gentle. “Why are you hiding, Me Amber?”
She glanced behind her. “My mommy said not to bother you,” she said at a lower volume.
He smothered a smile. “So why did you?”
“’Cause I want to play Candyland.” Coming out from behind the dresser, she displayed the game box she was holding. In a bright yellow T-shirt, green shorts and green sneakers, she reminded him of a cheerful dandelion. “And you can’t play by yourself.”
Wyatt remembered playing the game with Dylan when his brother was about this age. “Did you ask your mom to play with you?”
Her golden curls bounced as she nodded. “She has to dust the bookshelves. And wash the windows. And sweep the fireplace.”
“That’s a lot to do.” In the short time she’d been there, Susannah Bradley had systematically overhauled the place, room by room. He scarcely saw her during the day, she stayed so busy. And the house had never been so clean, so easy to live in. The meals she prepared tempted him as food hadn’t in years. On her breakfasts alone, he’d have been well fueled for a full day’s work...if he wasn’t stuck in the house with nothing to occupy him but wrangling numbers.
The least he could do was give her daughter a few minutes of his time. “Sure. I’ll play with you. Come on in.”
He rolled his chair over to the bed and they set up the board on the mattress, which Susannah made up for him in the mornings while he ate breakfast—an image he tried to avoid when he went to lie down at night. The image of her graceful hands smoothing his sheets did nothing to foster a good night’s sleep.
“Now, this is how you play,” Amber said, explaining the rules as she shuffled the cards with an endearing clumsiness. She was very serious about the process, frowning as she moved her piece from square to square, instructing him on the meaning of each card he drew. Even though he knew next to nothing about little girls, he felt he had the situation under control.
Until she landed on a licorice square. “No!” She bounced on the bed, upsetting the playing pieces and scattering the cards. “I don’t want to lose my turn!”
He made the mistake of arguing. “That’s the way you said the game works.”
“But you’ll get ahead of me,” she wailed. “It’s not fair!”
In the next moment, Susannah’s voice came down the hallway. “Amber? Amber, where are you?” Then she stood at his door. “What in the world...?”
Getting to his feet, Wyatt cleared his throat. “We’re...uh...playing Candyland.”
Standing by the bed, she crossed her arms and glared at her daughter. “What did I tell you?”
Staring at her hands, Amber hunched her shoulders. “Not to bother him.” Then she looked up. “But he wanted to play. Didn’t you?” Wide blue eyes, still wet with tears, begged for his support.
“I did.” He caught Susannah’s gaze. “It’s okay. Really. I’ve got nothing but time.”
“You’re very generous.” Taking a deep breath, she let her arms relax. But a faint flush on her cheeks revealed that she was still upset. “You don’t have to be a babysitter. It’s not part of the arrangement.”
“I’m not a babysitter,” he shot back. Then he softened his tone. “I’m a friend. Amber’s friend. And yours.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly. “I know. I just...hate taking advantage. We owe you and your brothers so much already.” Even though she must have been working hard, she seemed neat and fresh, her sleeveless blue shirt and khaki shorts as crisp as when he’d first seen her early this morning.
“You’re helping us out.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “And we’re grateful.”
She started under his touch. Her gaze flashed to his face and then away.
Wyatt withdrew his hand quickly, silently cursing himself. Like a mistreated horse, a woman who’d been abused would naturally be shy of men. How had he let himself forget?
“We’re doing fine in here,” he said then, jaw tense, fingers shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t worry.”
Stepping to the side of the bed, Susannah pointed a finger at her daughter. “No more tantrums over the game, Amber. You’re a big girl and you know you have to play by the rules. Nathan taught you. Remember?”
“I ’member. I’ll be good.” She beamed an angelic smile. “Can we start over? I messed up the board.”
Wyatt frowned at her. “I think I’ve been conned. But, yeah, we can start over.”
He only wondered if he would have to do the same with her mother.
* * *
SUSANNAH WENT TO the kitchen and poured herself some coffee, cradling the mug with both hands to hold it steady.
Wyatt had touched her. And she’d jumped, like a nervous teenager. How stupid could she be?
She didn’t believe for a second that he would hurt her. That wasn’t the problem. But her own response had shocked her—an immediate urge to lean into his hand, to savor the warmth of his palm, the strength of his fingers.
Where had that come from?
The sound of footsteps heralded Caroline’s arrival in the kitchen. “Good afternoon! I see you have a formidable project underway in the living room.”
“I noticed the books needed dusting.” Susannah gathered her scattered thoughts. “I’ll have everything restored to order by dinnertime.”
“I’m impressed that you decided to tackle it at all. There’s no telling when—if ever—that chore was last attempted.” Dark haired and petite, wearing jeans and a green T-shirt, boots and a white hat, she epitomized the perfect cowgirl. “I left Dylan and Garrett watching the kids jog their horses around the corral. I’m dying for some coffee to keep me awake.” Pouring a cup, she sent Susannah a conspiratorial wink. “Too many late nights spent on the phone with Ford in San Francisco.”
“When does he come back for good?” Though he’d meant to stay on the ranch for only a few weeks while Wyatt recuperated, falling in love with Caroline had inspired Ford to leave his law practice in California for his home and family in Wyoming. He’d brought with him the lovely engagement ring now resting on Caroline’s left hand.
“At the end of the week, thank goodness. I can’t believe how much I miss him.”
Susannah realized she hadn’t seen Travis for almost two weeks—and she hadn’t missed him at all, had actually been more contented than she’d felt in years. Shame brought heat to her face. “I’m sure you do.”
Caroline gazed at her for a moment and then crossed the kitchen to stand nearby. “You don’t have to feel guilty,” she said quietly. “He forfeited his claim to your concern, your love, the first time he hurt you. You and your children have every right to find a place where you’re safe and cared for.”
“I know.” Susannah swallowed hard. “It’s just...he wasn’t always like...that.”
“But you have to cope with the present, not the past.”
“He could change.” The possibility seared her conscience. “What if I gave up too soon?”
Leaning one hip against the counter, the cowgirl social worker ran a finger around the rim of her mug. “Do you think he will?” After a moment, she met Susannah’s gaze. “Are you willing to risk Nate and Amber’s well-being on that possibility?”
“No!”
Caroline nodded, lifting her mug in a salute. “You’ve made the smart and brave choice. Just take things one step at a time for a while. Let the past recede and the future wait awhile. For now, this summer, the three of you are in a good place.”
Picturing the big man playing Candyland with her daughter, Susannah smiled. “You’re right. We are.”
Caroline stopped by the plate of peanut butter cookies on the kitchen table. “Mmm...these look delicious.” She chose one and finished it off. “That Nate of yours is a natural horseman, by the way. He rides as if he’s been in the saddle since he was a baby.”
Susannah dumped the dregs of the coffee in the sink and poured out beans to start a fresh pot for Wyatt’s afternoon consumption. “He’s always loved horses. Whenever we went to the library, he found books about cowboys, ranches and riding. I’m sure he enjoys being here.”
“I hope so. We’ll see to it that he gets as much horse exposure as possible. Meanwhile, I’m taking one more of these cookies as I go. Once Dylan, Wyatt and Garrett find them, there won’t be any left.” She grabbed another cookie on her way out.
With the coffee made, Susannah decided she’d better check on the gamers in the room at the far end of the hall. Since Amber hadn’t wandered off seeking new entertainment, Susannah expected to find them still absorbed in the colors of Candyland.
Her heartbeat quickened as she approached the doorway, which was ridiculous. Nothing had happened to make her nervous. She drew a deep breath and relaxed her clenched fingers. Maybe she’d indulged in too much coffee today.
When she stepped into the room, she was surprised to find the game abandoned on the bed. Wyatt sat at his desk, with Amber on the floor beside his chair, her box of crayons and what seemed to be a ream of paper spread around her.
Amber glanced up as Susannah stood staring. “I’m drawing, Mommy.” The page she held featured one diagonal blue line. “See?”
“That’s...um...wonderful, honey.” As far as she could tell, all the papers showed just one or two marks, on only one side. “You’re making a lot of pictures, aren’t you?”
Wyatt swiveled his chair around to face her. “She won two games,” he said. When Susannah frowned in doubt, he held up a hand. “Fair and square. Then she wanted to use her crayons, so I gave her some paper.” He glanced down at Amber, and his usually solemn expression softened into a smile. “She’s having a good time.”
“So I see.” Flustered by his smile, Susannah hunkered down beside her daughter and gathered together the drawings. “You could put a picture on both sides, Amber. Can you do that?”
“Don’t want to.” Amber pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk and brought out more sheets. “I like it this way.”
“I don’t mind,” Wyatt said. “As long as she’s happy.”
“She’s making a mess and wasting supplies. And trees.” Aware of how bitchy that sounded, Susannah stacked the pages and flipped them over, blank side up. “Draw on these, Amber. You don’t want to use up all of Mr. Wyatt’s paper.”
Lower lip stuck out and eyes wide, Amber clutched the blank pages to her chest. “No.”
Great. An argument, in front of Wyatt. Susannah kept her voice gentle. “You have plenty, sweetie. Leave the rest alone.”
“I want more.” In a quick move, she scattered the pages she was holding, turned to the open drawer and reached inside. “More!”
Face flaming, Susannah straightened up. “I’m sorry,” she said, not meeting Wyatt’s eyes. “You’ve been very good to play with her, but I think a break is in order.” She picked up her wailing-and-kicking daughter by the waist. “I’ll deal with this chaos in a few minutes.”
“I can get—” he started, but stopped. “No, I can’t,” he said gruffly. “Damn this brace, anyway.”
Having ruined a perfectly peaceful scene for her daughter and for him, Susannah took Amber to the room they shared and shut the door. A few minutes of sobs and sniffles followed, during a heart-to-heart talk about listening to Mommy, before her little girl fell asleep with the tears still drying on her face. Some days, a grown-up five-year-old still needed a nap.
Now she had to go back and face Wyatt while she restored order to his office. He kept his life organized, she’d discovered since she’d been here. Much of her cleaning had been out of a sense of duty more than actual necessity because the house was amazingly tidy, especially considering bachelors lived there. Despite what he’d said, having the floor carpeted with childish scribblings had probably driven him crazy. Susannah knew she shouldn’t have allowed her daughter to demand so much of his time. She’d make sure she kept closer tabs on Amber in the future.
In the next few days, that resolution proved much easier to make than to keep. Whenever Amber’s bright voice had gone quiet, Susannah would discover her playing with Wyatt. She found them in the living room one afternoon, where Wyatt sat in the rocking chair with the baby doll, wrapped in a bath towel, resting on his shoulder. Amber stood beside him, patting the baby’s shoulder as he moved back and forth.
“What are you doing?” had become her standard question.
“Shh!” Amber put a finger to her lips. “Baby is sick. Her daddy is rocking her to make her feel better.”
“Ah.” She kept her voice down. “And who are you?”
“I’m the sister. He’s my daddy, too.”
Struck to the heart, Susannah found her gaze locked with Wyatt’s, but she couldn’t read his expression. In desperation, she put a hand on Amber’s shoulder.
“Sweetie, maybe the baby wants a drink of water. Why don’t you go get her bottle from the bedroom?”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Susannah said as soon as Amber was gone. “I can’t imagine where she comes up with these ideas.”
“I expect you hold her when she’s sick and that comforts her.” The doll still rested on his shoulder. “Good parents do those things for their kids. And you’re a very good parent.”
“But I’m sorry you’re getting caught up in her silly games. Really, you don’t have to—”
“Susannah.” His firm tone halted the frenzy of her speech. “You’ve said ‘I’m sorry’ twice in the last two minutes. Seems we never have a conversation lately without you saying ‘I’m sorry.’”
She opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t an apology, so she closed it again.
“Don’t worry so much. Not about me.” He glanced down at the doll and smiled. “I enjoy playing with Amber, seeing how a little girl’s mind works. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I’m sure you can stop apologizing. You and your kids are not a burden and you’re not intruding. Just make yourself at home. Settle in. Or else I’m going to get mad.” He sent her a wink. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m mad.”
* * *
EVEN AS THE words left his mouth, Wyatt realized his mistake.
“I’m so sorry.” His turn to apologize. “That was a stupid thing to say. It’s a joke between my brothers and me—from an old TV show.”
To his great surprise, she laughed. “I know. I watched The Incredible Hulk reruns when I was a kid. I loved how he grew all big and green and furious.”
Despite her good humor, his guilt persisted. “I didn’t intend to threaten you.” He considered the phrase again. “Although that’s exactly the way it sounded.”
“You were teasing, Wyatt. I got that.” Her smile faded. “Travis doesn’t threaten. He just...explodes.”
“I hate reminding you of him.” And hated remembering his own dad’s hair-trigger temper.
“It’s not as if I ever really forget.” She drew a deep breath and then made an obvious effort to improve the mood. “You seem pretty experienced at holding babies. Did you spend a lot of time taking care of your younger brothers?”
“My mom was sick for a while before she passed away, so I did a fair amount of babysitting. Especially with Dylan.”
“No wonder you’re so good with Amber! Though after taking care of three younger brothers, I would expect you’d had enough of dealing with children. Yet here you are sponsoring a summer camp.”
“Kids are important.” He’d planned on having a full house, back in his twenties when he’d believed getting married was part of his future. Too bad for him, the girl he’d loved wanted a different kind of life. Now everything he did was for the ranch and his brothers. “Caroline and Garrett proposed having the Circle M host the teenagers, and I decided we owed it to Henry to help the kids the way he helped us.” And that was as close as he’d ever come to that long-ago dream.
Susannah gave him a puzzled frown. “Henry?”
“While I was growing up, we lived in town, where my dad repaired cars at the service station. After he died, I went to work out here for Henry MacPherson. Eventually he had all of us move in with him. And he left the four of us the ranch in his will.”
“You lost both parents?” Her blue eyes widened. “That’s so sad. How old—” She broke off the question as Amber returned to the living room. “Did you find the bottle, sweetie? That’s good. Sick babies need to drink.”
Now feeling a little foolish, Wyatt shifted the doll to the crook of his arm. “Maybe you should rock the baby for a while, Amber. I think that might help her get well.” With a push on the chair arm, he got awkwardly to his feet.
“It’s a him,” Amber said, clambering into the rocker. “Russell.” With a serious, concerned expression, she cradled the doll against her body and offered him the bottle.
“I could use something to drink, myself,” Wyatt said, keeping his voice low. “Coffee, maybe?”
“I’ve just made a fresh pot.” Susannah led the way through the dining room. “Russell was her friend when we lived in Gillette,” she said. “His family had the house next door and the two of them would play together most of the day. That was two years ago, but she still asks about him sometimes.”
“Changes are hard on kids.” Wyatt reached above her head to push open the kitchen door.
“You would know. And I’m afraid, since we’ve moved so often...” she said, walking past him. “But now—” She stopped short, just inside the doorway. “Well, hello, Dylan!”
His brother’s voice came from the kitchen. “Afternoon, Ms. Susannah. How’s your day going?”
Following, Wyatt didn’t stop as quickly, so he bumped into her, knocking her off balance. He put his hands on her narrow waist to steady her. “Sorry about that. You okay?” The world seemed to halt for a moment as he held her. Under his palms, she drew a deep breath and blew it out again.
“Of course. I’m fine.” She stepped out of his hold. “Dylan, what are you doing hanging around the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon?”
Dylan saluted Wyatt with a lift of his coffee cup. Then he refocused his attention on Susannah. “Actually, I’m on a mission—I was sent to find cookies. Garrett said you were baking this morning and the kids were hoping...”
Arms crossed, she eyed him skeptically. “The kids?”
He winked at her. “Of course. Pure altruism on my part.”
“I’m sure.” She nodded toward a plastic container on the counter. “Those are the cookies. All ready for the kids.” Her emphasis on the last two words drew Dylan’s grin.
“I’m sure they will appreciate the effort, and I’ll say thanks in their place.”
Susannah smiled at him. “They’re welcome.”
Still standing by the kitchen door, Wyatt felt very much outside the conversation, as if he wasn’t in the room at all. Dylan had always been a ladies’ man, able to win a smile from females nine years old to ninety. That had never bothered him before. Wyatt wasn’t sure why he resented his brother’s easy charm this afternoon.
“I had a couple of other things to talk over with you, if you’ve got a minute,” Dylan was saying.
“Sure.” Susannah leaned a hip against the counter. “What’s going on?”
Wyatt remembered he’d come in for coffee. Jaw set, he stalked across the kitchen and elbowed his brother away from the machine so he could pour a cup.
Prodded into motion, Dylan joined Susannah by the breakfast bar. “First off, that reporter is gonna show up here tomorrow to interview me. So if you could freshen up the other guest room, that would be great.”
“No problem,” she told him. “But I’ve been wondering, how did this house end up with two guest rooms?”
Wyatt started to answer, but Dylan spoke first. “You and Amber are staying in what used to be my room before I moved into the loft in my studio. Comfortable, isn’t it?”
“Incredibly comfortable. We appreciate you sharing with us.”
“Anytime.” His grin could only be called flirtatious. “Meanwhile, we grown-up types were talking about giving the kids a picnic on Thursday, down at the creek, on the other side of the barn.”
“Where the picnic tables are? That sounds like fun. I’ve walked there with Amber. She wants to play in the water.”
“I imagine they all will. We also thought we’d give them a day off from making their own meals and put you in charge of the food, if you don’t mind. Sandwiches, fruit, that kind of thing. More cookies would be good.” Another of those grins.
And Susannah smiled in response. “I don’t mind at all. I’m glad to help with the camp in any way I can. You’ll want everything ready by noon?”
“Sounds about right. We’ll show up and let the kids carry everything down to the creek. There are a couple of picnic baskets around here somewhere, I believe. And I’m sure we’ve got at least one big water cooler, plus an ice chest or two. Wyatt probably knows where they are. Right, Boss?”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I do, yes.” He couldn’t believe he sounded so pitiful. “That kind of stuff is stored in the attic. I can bring it all down.”
Dylan frowned at him. “I’m pretty sure climbing ladders is on the list of things you’re not supposed to do for the next few months, along with riding horses. I’ll fetch what we need. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He set down his mug. “Come on, Susannah. Let’s get this project underway.”
Wyatt stayed where he was, fuming at...well, at the situation, more than anything else. At himself, for getting hurt. At being stuck in the house like an old man. Maybe he wasn’t a kid anymore, but he could hold his own against any of his brothers when it came to ranch chores.
And, yeah, he was ticked off at his youngest brother, though he wasn’t sure why. Dylan was just being himself—easygoing and sociable. His beguiling approach with women had never bothered Wyatt in the past.
Susannah, though... Susannah deserved to be treated with respect and deference. Not that Dylan had been disrespectful, exactly, but sometimes women took his flirting more seriously than he intended. As she recovered from a miserable marriage, she didn’t have to be confused by casual gallantry. Should he say something to Dylan?
Should he warn Susannah?
He couldn’t bring himself to speak to either of them, but in the days following he kept an eye on them when they were together, trying to judge how things were going.
But then the reporter from New York arrived, and Dylan immediately fell head over heels in love with her. Susannah didn’t seem bothered by that obvious fact. When everyone sat on the front porch in the evening to enjoy hand-cranked ice cream, or when they gathered in the living room for a sing-along by the fireplace, Wyatt couldn’t detect any difference between the way she behaved with Dylan and with Garrett or Ford. Or himself.
Which was as it should be. The only way it could be, for Susannah’s sake.
* * *
ONCE SHE’D CLEANED every other space in the house, Susannah had no choice but to tackle Wyatt’s bedroom. Just proposing the idea to him made her palms damp and her throat tight.
“I wondered—” she started one night during supper, while Amber was busy with her favorite meal of noodles topped by marinara sauce. “I wondered if I could spend some time in your room tomorrow.”
Wyatt looked up from his lasagna, a startled expression on his face.
“Cleaning, I mean. I’ve done Ford’s room and Garrett’s. It’s...um...your turn.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Well, sure. That’ll be great. I can work somewhere else while you’re in there.”
“I’ll start with your desk area and try to finish as fast as I can. I don’t want to interrupt you.”
“These days, with the bad news I’m getting over the internet, being interrupted isn’t such a problem.” He was toying with his food, forking through it but not eating much.
Susannah rested her folded arms on the table. “What kind of bad news?”
“Prices, for one thing. Grass-fed beef, the kind we raise, is more expensive than conventional feedlot meat. A good portion of our market is the restaurant industry, but they’re rejecting the higher prices and serving other proteins, like pork and chicken. So demand for the product is down, meaning lower prices. But the cost of living—not to mention the cost of producing these cattle—doesn’t go down.”
“I’m not much help with economics,” she said. “But for what it’s worth, yours is the tenderest, most flavorful meat I’ve ever cooked with.”
Wyatt let out a big laugh. “That’s the best thing you could have said. Maybe what we need is an advertising program to appeal to the public. You can star in the TV commercials.”
Susannah felt herself blushing. “Not very likely.”
“Why not? You’re certainly pretty enough.”
She stared at him, her breath caught in her chest. Wyatt’s expression said he’d surprised himself.
“You are pretty, Mommy.” Amber chose that moment to join the conversation. “I want to watch you on TV.”
Thankful for the intrusion, Susannah turned to her daughter. “And I want to watch you finish up your green beans. Can you do that?”
Amber heaved a put-upon sigh. “Okay.”
Wyatt didn’t so much as glance up from his plate for the rest of the meal.
He was still avoiding her gaze when she saw him at breakfast the next morning. “I’ll get started on your room right away,” she said, hoping for interaction of some kind. “And work as fast as I can.”
“Dylan plugged in my laptop in the dining room.” Buttering his biscuit seemed to require all his attention. “And Amber is going to bring her coloring in to keep me company.” Despite himself, he flashed a quick smile in her direction. “We’ll be fine.”
As soon as the kitchen was set to rights, she started in Wyatt’s room. With some hesitation, she approached the big desk, where a computer screen and keyboard, along with multiple stacks of papers, books and magazines, obscured most of the space. In order to thoroughly dust the top, she would have to move them all. Did they have to be returned to exactly the same spots? How would she remember what went where?
She’d just moved the first pile to its corresponding position on the bed when Wyatt’s footsteps sounded in the hall. “I need a couple of reports,” he said as he entered the room. Then he stopped, hands on his narrow hips, surveying her and the desk. “You have to move all my stuff?”
Susannah decided to take the firm approach. “Yes,” she said simply and then relented at his worried frown. “I’ll replace them exactly the same way. I promise.”
He blew out a short breath. “I’ll do it.” Stepping to the desk, he reached for a stack of magazines about a foot high.
Having him in the room while she worked would be...distracting. But she couldn’t just shoo him away. “Those will be heavy. You shouldn’t—”
Without a word, he lifted the pile and, following her lead, set it down on the mattress. They worked together in silence for a few minutes, moving back and forth past each other, sometimes brushing shoulders, until Susannah’s nerves got the better of her.
“I didn’t realize ranching involved so much paperwork,” she volunteered in desperation.
“Most of it is done on the computer now. But I often refer to Henry MacPherson’s record books. They cover more than four decades.” Wyatt moved another set of papers. “I started out on paper, because he was teaching me. About five years ago I switched to the computer.” He surveyed the contents of the bed. “Doesn’t look like it, I guess. I’m still transferring relevant information from paper to digital.”
“What kind of information?” Conversation made him seem less overwhelming. “What do ranchers keep track of?”
“Everything to do with the cattle—breeding, birthing, weaning, vaccinations, weigh-ins, culling, castrating, branding, health records, sales and purchases. Files on the machinery and vehicles we use, plus purchase forms and maintenance. Tax documents and all the receipts to go with them.” He slid the keyboard and screen for the computer on the desk out of her way, so she could dust underneath. “And then there are deeds and notices for the grazing land we lease from the government. A couple of those piles of paper are from the Bureau of Land Management—and that’s from just this year.”
“Amazing.” Moving between the desk and the wall, she cleaned the window frame and sill, and then she started on the panes. “You said Mr. MacPherson taught you, but you must have the education to manage such a complicated business. Not to mention knowing how to use the computer software. Did you get a business degree?”
Behind her, Wyatt chuckled. “Not hardly.”
Susannah looked at him over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“I quit school when I was sixteen to go to work. I’ve been a cowboy ever since.”
She pivoted to face him. “I didn’t realize. You were that young when your dad died?”
He nodded. “Dylan was eight.”
“The four of you grew up without your parents. And you’ve learned to manage all this—” she said with a gesture at the view of the rolling pastures framed by the window “—on your own.”
“Henry taught me pretty much everything I know.”
“Is this what you always wanted to do? Did you dream of being a cowboy as a little boy?”
His gaze seemed to turn inward. “Not that I remember. We played soldiers, or ball games, I think.” He shrugged. “But ranch work was available when I needed a job, so that’s what I did.”
“Still...” The scope of his responsibilities amazed her. “You raised your brothers by yourself. From such a young age.”
“We raised each other. That’s why we stick together.”
Some men were just born to be responsible. And some men weren’t—like her husband.
Coming out from behind the desk, she didn’t realize she’d revealed her state of mind until Wyatt said, “What’s brought that frown to your face?”
“Oh.” Her turn to confess. “Thinking about Travis, of course. His parenting skills—or lack of them.”
“A good reason to keep him out of your life as much as possible.”
“That’s not—”
A sudden clatter sounded in the front of the house, followed by Amber’s voice. “Uh oh.”
Susannah rushed down the hallway and into the dining room. “What happened?”
Amber stood by the wall, a coloring book dangling from her hand. At her feet lay a laptop computer.
Wyatt’s laptop computer.
“I tried to go over it,” she said, pointing to the cord, which was plugged into the wall. “But my foot catched it.” Judging from her big eyes and frightened expression, she understood the seriousness of the problem.
Wyatt joined them. “I can’t get down there with this stupid brace on,” he said in a quiet voice. “Could you set it on the table?”
Susannah bent to pick up the computer. As she straightened, she glanced at the machine and gasped. The screen was cracked and crazed, the image totally destroyed.
A long, low whistle escaped Wyatt’s lips. “That doesn’t look good.” She put it on the table and he pressed some keys, typed a string of letters. The screen went dead. “Not good at all.”
Chapter Three (#u6d3d95ba-3ebe-56d7-b4d2-d2411032e6ae)
Wyatt looked up from the busted computer to find Susannah and Amber staring at him with nearly identical expressions on their faces. There was dread, even fear in their eyes.
They expected him to explode, like Travis Bradley would. Like his father had, that last night, before stomping out of the house in a drunken rage.
Their reaction cut him to the bone. For a few seconds, he couldn’t find the words to respond. He was not his father.
“I sorry,” Amber said in a tiny voice, her tone a plea. “Can you fix it?”
He pulled in a deep breath. “Maybe. I’ll take it to the computer shop in Casper, see what they can do.” Then he met the little girl’s gaze. “It was an accident,” he said as gently as he could. “They happen. It’s okay.”
“Use my wages to buy a new one.” Susannah put a hand on Amber’s shoulder. “I insist.”
“That won’t happen. Really. It’s okay.”
“You’re kind to say so.” Her frown eased slightly. “But it’s not, really.”
“We’re not going to argue over this.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I think I’ll spend some time in the barn, watch the kids ride. And I’ll eat lunch with them in the bunkhouse.”
“Wyatt—”
“If you’ll unplug the cord—” He hated having to ask. “Thanks.” With the cover closed and the cord coiled on top, he pushed the laptop to the center of the table. “You two have a good afternoon.”
Walking up the hill to the barn, he acknowledged the anger simmering in his chest. Anger at Travis Bradley, for conditioning his family to expect violence when they made a mistake. How could such a man live with himself?
He also had to admit to being angry that Susannah would put him in the same category as Bradley, if only by reflex. Wyatt had done his best, since she’d been here, to be reassuring, to appear totally safe. He was safe, dammit. Why would she think otherwise?
A single step into the shadows of the barn brought the sweet aroma of hay to his nose. Almost immediately, his temper started to cool. Walking along the side aisle, breathing deeply, he let the peace of the place soothe him. He’d spent too much time in the house this last month. Of course he was irritable.
At the back of the barn, he wanted to prop his arms on the half door leading out to the corral, but the brace restrained him from bowing his shoulders. So he stood stiff as a stick, instead, watching the teenagers ride their horses. With Dylan leading the line on his Appaloosa, Leo, the kids rode patterns around the ring—circles, diagonals, even serpentines. And they were jogging, which constituted great progress since Wyatt had last observed them.
He couldn’t help noticing that Nate, Susannah’s son, seemed more comfortable with his horse’s motion than any of the riders except Dylan. He sat easily in the saddle, arms relaxed and steady, not flapping up and down in imitation of bird wings. His long legs were wrapped around the mare’s barrel and stayed still in the stirrups. Caroline and his brothers had mentioned the boy’s natural ability. Now Wyatt witnessed it for himself—they had a prospective cowboy on their hands.
The rest of the kids deserved encouragement, too, and he tried to speak with each one as they came in the barn to put away saddles, bridles and blankets.
“Good job,” he said, as Thomas Gray Cloud lugged his saddle into the tack room. “You’re keeping your hands down really well at the jog.”
The boy fiddled with the way the stirrup was hanging. “Sometimes.” He shrugged and, with a quick glance at Wyatt, headed for the door.
Only to run straight into Marcos Oxendine.
“Hey, watch it,” Marcos shouted. “You about knocked me down.”
Thomas glared at him. “Like you don’t weigh twice as much as me. Give me a break.”
“I’ll give you a break. I’ll break every—”
“That’s enough.” Wyatt used his own version of loud. “There’s no call for an argument. Just stand back, Thomas, and let him get inside with his gear.”
Rolling his eyes, Thomas moved out of the way until the other boy had come through. But when he tried to leave, Lizzie Hanson blocked his way.
“Oh...hi, Lizzie. I’ll move.” He retreated again. That was an interesting development—Thomas being nice to one of the girls.
“Thanks, Thomas.” Blonde and boy-crazy, Lizzie fluttered her mascaraed lashes. “Can you put my saddle away? That would be so great.” Then she noticed Wyatt’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, never mind. I’ll do it.” One of the camp rules was that each rider was responsible for their own tack.
“You’re looking comfortable in that saddle,” Wyatt told her. “You and Major seem to be getting along well.”
She gave him a wide smile. “I love him.” Lizzie had been afraid of horses at the beginning of the camp, but Major, a brown, white and black pony, had proved to be just the partner she needed.
Nate was the last of the teens to leave the corral because he spent the longest time brushing his mare, Blue Lady. Thin and quiet, he kept his gaze down as Wyatt spoke to him.
“You’re a born horseman, Nate. I appreciate the way you take care of your animal.”
“Thanks.” He glanced up briefly. “I want her to be clean. Comfortable.”
“A real cowboy does exactly that.” Wyatt’s turn to hesitate. “So...you’re having a good time? Enjoying the camp?”
“Sure. It’s fun.” He straightened his shoulders and, finally, looked Wyatt squarely in the eye. “Thanks for taking care of my mom and my sister. I was worried about them.”
“We’re glad to help. We’ll make sure all of you stay safe.”
Nate took a deep breath. “I hope so.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Before Wyatt could reassure him, Dylan looked in the door. “There you are, Nate. We were counting heads and missing one. Lunch is almost ready.”
“Right.” With obvious relief, Nate slipped out the door.
“Good to find you in the barn, Boss.” Dylan waited as Wyatt closed the tack room door behind him. “I think the kids are doing really well.”
“That’s what I saw.” They walked toward the front of the barn together. “I’m not so sure about you, though. You seem kind of peaked.”
After a brief, intense affair, Dylan’s reporter had returned to New York. Working harder than ever on his sculpture, with occasional breaks to help out with the camp or ranch chores, the youngest Marshall was obviously suffering.
“I’ll live,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t intend to die of a broken heart, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
They stepped out into the bright afternoon and headed toward the bunkhouse where the kids ate their meals. “I wouldn’t expect you to. But the process of healing can be painful.” His own experience with first love had demonstrated the intense ache of rejection.
Dylan was silent for a minute. “Do you ever think about her? Marley Jennings? You still hear her name on the rodeo news these days, winning barrel races across the country.”
“It’s been more than ten years since we were together.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dylan gave a hollow laugh. “I’m just wondering how long I should expect to feel this way.”
Wyatt clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Not forever. You’d be surprised how soon the memories fade.” If he put his mind to it, though, he could recall the sight of her riding into an arena, her long, jet-black hair catching blue sparks from the floodlights, her palomino horse prancing as they carried the American flag along the rail. The epitome of a rodeo queen.
And not in the least interested in becoming a rancher’s wife.
“A woman has a right to the life she wants,” he said, aware the words wouldn’t comfort his brother. “You can’t expect them to give up their ambitions and dreams just because you fell in love.”
“Yeah. I figured that out.” Dylan opened the door to the bunkhouse. “Isn’t it just great, being enlightened?”
Wyatt remembered the fear on Susannah’s face.
Not today, he thought and followed his brother inside.
* * *
THE TEASING BECKY RUSH had been expecting started during lunch.
“Hey, Becky.” Marcos sat down across the table from her. “Nice tan.”
“Thanks.” Feeling her sunburned face get even hotter, Becky tried to play it cool. “I thought I’d try a new look.” She’d overslept this morning and, in her hurry, had forgotten to put on sunscreen. Then she’d left her hat in the cabin and hadn’t had a chance to get it before their trail ride. Now, thanks to the bright summer day, her face was almost the same color as her red hair. Her arms, up to the sleeves of her T-shirt, matched perfectly.
From the chair next to Marcos, Thomas pointed at her with his knife. “What look is that? The lobster?”
Becky sent him a sour smile. “Ha ha.”
Sitting on her right, Lizzie giggled. When Becky glared at her—they were supposed to be best friends—the other girl shrugged. “It was a funny thing to say.”
Marcos pretended to be concerned. “Now, at least, you can hardly see the freckles.”
That one hurt. She hated her freckles, the only thing she’d gotten from the dad who’d walked out on them.
The next comment came from Becky’s left. “Leave her alone,” Nate said. “You don’t want anybody making fun of your color, do you?”
Marcos immediately got mad. “What’s there to make fun of? Huh?”
“Nothing. Which is my point.”
The other boy looked confused. Thomas cracked a laugh. “He told you, man.”
Nate stared at him. “You, too.”
Pushing quickly to his feet, Thomas propped his fists on the table and leaned across, toward Nate. “Listen here—”
Becky caught her breath, and her chest tightened in a way she was all too familiar with. She hated arguments. Thomas and Marcos had been in trouble more than once this summer for fighting each other. Even though there were grown-ups in the room, she didn’t doubt for a minute that either one of the other boys could and would take Nate down. He was tall but thin, not at all a match for the stronger guys.
But he stayed sitting, as calm and controlled as usual in the face of the Thomas’s anger.
Like wind blowing against the face of a high cliff, that fury ended up with nowhere to go. “Stupid,” Thomas muttered, sitting down and picking up his sandwich. “Just stupid.” He and Marcos both made a point of attacking their food, not talking to anyone, even each other. In record time, they’d finished, dumped their plates by the sink and left the bunkhouse. In another minute, Lizzie threw her half-finished food in the trash and followed them out. As usual, Lena and Justino sat together at the end of the table in their own little world—they probably hadn’t even noticed what was going on with everybody else.
Left pretty much alone with Nate, Becky tried to forget how silly she must look with her face the color of a tomato. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “I appreciate the defense.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I know what it’s like to be bullied by those two. They shouldn’t get away with it.”
“You were so quiet, though. At my house, people—my mom and grandma—yell when they argue. Which they do most of the time.” When they weren’t too drunk or stoned to talk at all. She didn’t want to admit that part.
“My dad yells.” He started to say something else and then stopped.
But Becky had noticed the bruise on his jaw the morning in June after Mr. Ford had brought him back to the ranch. She could guess what else his dad did. “I hole up in my room a lot,” she confessed. “Out of the way...if I’m lucky.”
Nate’s fingers were busy, crumbling the half of his sandwich he hadn’t eaten. “Sometimes luck isn’t enough.”
“No.” Funny that they were sharing this personal stuff when they didn’t really know each other that well. They were in the same grade at school but went to different classes—Nate was one of the smart kids in the more advanced courses while Becky only did what she had to to pass at the regular level. What would be the point? Nobody in her family had ever gone past high school. She didn’t expect to be the first.
“I guess we’ve got rodeo practice this afternoon,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “Are you going to compete?” They’d watched a couple of rodeos since they’d been at camp, but Mr. Garrett had announced that morning at breakfast that there would be a junior rodeo up in Buffalo at the end of August and anyone who wanted to could enter an event. Thomas, Marcos and Lena were all excited about the possibility of riding bulls, and they’d been practicing on a bucking barrel for weeks now.
Becky and Lizzie had been learning how to do barrel racing with Ms. Caroline—a timed event which involved running a cloverleaf pattern on their horses. “I’m not sure. My horse, Desi, and me, we’re not too fast—mostly still trotting. I’m not sure I’ll be ready. What about you?”
Getting to his feet, Nate shook his head. “Probably not. I like just riding around, without risking my neck.” Picking up his dishes, he nodded in her direction. “See you at the barn.”
“Sure.” She watched him walk away, noticing his straight back and long legs, the soft brown color of his messy hair. Why hadn’t she noticed before how cute he was? Cute guys who stuck up for girls with freckles and red hair were hard to find. Even harder to get to know.
But she and Nate had more than a month of camp left—plenty of time to become friends. More than friends. Unlike Lizzie, she’d never had a boyfriend, but now she thought it might be nice to have a boy around who understood her, who would fight for her.
Here at the ranch, where they saw each other every day, getting him to notice her, to like her, would be easier than in the crowded bustle of school. And she wouldn’t have to bring him home if they wanted time together. She never brought anybody home.
Cleaning up after lunch with Justino and Lena, Becky found herself smiling for no real reason, except that today was a good day. Sure, her face and arms burned as if she had a fever. But because of that, she’d decided to have her first boyfriend.
And she wouldn’t let the freckles stand in her way.
* * *
FOR THE FIRST time since she’d arrived at the Marshall brothers’ home, Susannah was uncomfortable. And it was her own fault.
Wyatt hadn’t said anything, of course. She would have been relieved if he had—then she could apologize, assure him she wasn’t afraid, had never believed he would hurt her or Amber. Her reaction over the broken computer had been involuntary. Unthinking. Stupid.
The weekend passed and the opportunity she wanted never seemed to present itself. When she did see him—at breakfast—Wyatt was polite but quiet and aloof. He spent more time out of the house than he had since she’d come to stay, ate more meals with the teenagers in the bunkhouse. Short of following him around the ranch, how would she get a chance to talk to him?
Then, on Monday morning, disaster struck. Lena Smith collapsed and was sent to the hospital. Fortunately, the town’s new doctor, Rachel Vale, had arrived and was able to support Garrett as he managed the situation. The kids and the adults left behind were concerned, of course, and hearing that Lena had developed diabetes did not reassure them. Garrett provided some basic information to help the kids cope, but Susannah worried about what would happen when Lena returned to camp. Travis’s mother was a diabetic and kept a very strict diet. What did that mean? How should Lena be eating now?
A library would have the answer, and she was familiar with the one in Buffalo, having taken Nathan and Amber there when they lived nearby. All she had to do was get there.
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