The Rancher's Prospect (15 page)

Carl had already discovered the six-month-old kitten was generally mellow, and unlike some felines, he didn't hold a grudge. Samson also ate voraciously, growing in leaps and bounds.

As Samson gobbled the treats out of his hand, Carl thought about Lauren's childhood desire to be a professional kitten holder. She'd like Samson.

He rubbed behind the cat's huge ears and listened to his rumbling purr, reminiscent of a rusty motorboat. Much as Carl appreciated felines, they weren't a substitute for human company.

* * *

Later that afternoon Carl saw Lauren's car in the grocery store parking lot and convinced himself that he needed milk.

They ran into each other in the produce section...after he'd walked around the store to locate her. They chatted about the growing trend toward organic and the fact that Schuyler was slow in joining the movement.

“Emily says organic is considered too ‘new age' in Schuyler,” Lauren said. “But I can usually find the basics, and the store is great about ordering stuff for me.”

“I never thought of asking.”

“You should. The manager is quite cooperative.”

Carl knew Jeff Browning. Aside from the town's eagerness to make Lauren happy, Jeff was a single man in his thirties with a lively interest in the opposite sex.

“That's good to know,” Carl murmured. “I haven't seen your sister for a few days. She hasn't left, has she?”

“She left today to go camping in the mountains with Walt Nelson.”

“Really?” Carl was surprised. Walt had a reputation for not getting along with people, so it was hard to imagine him taking anyone camping.

“Yes. Well, it's was nice to see you.”

With a polite smile Lauren headed toward the bread aisle while a harsh breath hissed from Carl's lungs. He'd invented an excuse to see her and hadn't even made it meaningful. But after all, they had agreed to be friends and, aside from a slip at the party, they could surely manage it. Friends saw each other from time to time and even did things together.

As he strode from of the store, without any milk, he saw Lauren loading groceries into her car. His automatic reaction was to offer assistance, but he stopped, knowing it was ridiculous; she only had a few bags and would have them loaded by the time he arrived.

Feeling like a lovesick puppy, Carl waved at Lauren and drove out of the parking lot.

* * *

J
OSH
REMOVED
A
handwritten message that had been taped to his door and stared at it in disbelief.

We've gone to look for the sapphires. Don't go fussing about the payroll checks. Tara put them on the top shelf of the locked cabinet, ready to sign and she says you know what buttons to push for the next set. See you when we get back. Grandpa

We?

His grandfather could only have meant him and Tara.

The paper crumpled in Josh's fist. How could she have agreed to such a thing? Despite everything he'd said, Tara clearly didn't have a clue how fragile his grandfather's health had become. Walt's limp
alone
should have told her it was a bad idea.

Besides, it was a wild-goose chase in the first place.

Thoughts raced through Josh's head. Ten years ago, with Walt's permission, he'd arranged for the geologist's survey and had specifically asked to be notified if there was any potential to the family legend. After finishing, the geologist had said that although nobody could be a hundred percent certain, no evidence of sapphires had been found. Walt had seen the report, so why was he doing such a crazy-ass thing?

And the message didn't say where he and Tara had gone. The ranch was huge. Finding them up in the hills would be difficult. Walt didn't have a satellite phone—that being one of those modern contraptions he despised.

Josh hurried to the barn.

Patch was there and confirmed Walt and Tara's departure several hours earlier.

“Did my grandfather tell you where they were headed?” he asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

“No. Seemed real excited, though, about getting away from doctor's appointments and such. Maybe he left some information at the house.”

Josh ground his teeth. Walt should have been specific in his message. Keeping people informed of your whereabouts was simply common sense.

He went to the main house. There was a bulletin board in the kitchen that the family had always used for messages. Nothing current had been posted, though Josh's throat tightened when he saw various notes in his grandmother's writing. A shopping list. A reference to Alaina's pregnancy. Several reminders to call different people.

Why hadn't Grandpa taken them down?

A sick feeling in his stomach, Josh walked through the house. It was surprisingly clean and well dusted, but he found nothing to tell him where his grandfather and Tara had gone.

Maybe they'd left a note with the payroll checks in the ranch office. But there was nothing there, either, nor could he locate the papers with the old coordinates. He checked his emails, hoping for a message from Tara, and absently signed the checks for Clyde to distribute.

The other possibility was Lauren Spencer. He grabbed the phone, only to realize he didn't have her number. A quick call to the phone company revealed it was unlisted. But Emily would have her number and address. He called and tried to keep the inquiry low-key. There was no point upsetting anyone else.

Then he punched in Lauren's number.

“Hello?” Over the phone her voice sounded remarkably similar to her sister's.

“Hey, Lauren, it's Josh McGregor. Listen, did Tara leave any information with you about her camping trip?”

“Y-yes,” Lauren said after a brief silence.

Relief hit him. “Great. I need it.”

“Tara told me it was only for emergencies.”

“This
is
an emergency.”

He heard her quick intake of breath through the phone. “What happened?”

“Grandpa is out there when he should be home. That's what.” It wasn't quite a yell, but it came close.

“Oh. I...I don't think that qualifies, Josh. Listen, I'd better go.” And she disconnected.

Josh immediately drove into town and knocked on the door of her apartment.

“I had a feeling it was you,” Lauren said when she answered.

“Look, I'm sorry I got testy on the phone, but I'm worried about Grandpa.” Josh gave her what he hoped was a persuasive smile. “And you
can't
be happy about Tara taking off like this. I need to know where they've gone.”

“Tara gave me the information and said it was in case they didn't get back by a certain time.”

“Please understand. I know you haven't treated Grandpa at the clinic, but he isn't in good shape. We've already lost Grandma Evelyn, and I don't know what we'd do if something else happened to him.”

Josh recognized the sympathy in her eyes. Why couldn't it have been
Lauren
who'd made friends with his grandfather instead of her impossible sister?

“Okay,” she finally agreed.

He waited while she fetched a sheet of paper.

“I made a copy for you,” she told him.

“Great.”

“Be careful, Josh. You need to think about what you're doing.”

It was a gentle repeat of her warnings at the clinic, but this time he suspected she was talking about more than getting into stupid accidents.

“I know. But Grandpa should have thought more about this, too.” He didn't add that Tara should have used her brain, as well.

Tara didn't care about Grandpa the way his family did. How could she? She was a friend, not a relative. Yet as soon as the thought formed, Josh knew it was unfair. Tara had connected with Walt in a way he'd needed...a way no one else had been able to do. But it was still reckless to go on a prospecting trip with him.

Josh checked the position of the sun as he hurried back to his truck. Generally he didn't bother wearing a watch, since ranching put him in tune with the rhythms of the land and sky. Now he realized it was later than he'd thought.

First he studied the information Tara had neatly typed out for her sister. On the back was a rough map that showed where they were headed. It was one of the most rugged sections of the ranch—Smaug's Mountain—a name the family had given it decades before when they'd become enamored with J. R. R. Tolkien's books. It would take several hours of fast riding to get there.

He gave Tara credit for at least telling
someone
where they were going. With the map and hard work getting supplies together, he'd be able to leave by sunrise.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T
ARA
HUMMED
WHILE
SHE
stirred a pot of stew over the campfire. It didn't smell bad—fresh air and excitement added savor. The food would get less inspiring once the fresh stuff was used up and freeze-dried took over, but Tara had subsisted on far less when needed. Heck, she had a week's worth of food in her pack alone, just with the bags of trail mix she'd brought. With the supplies they'd brought in on the pack horses, they could stay for a couple of months.

“This thing looks ridiculous,” Walt proclaimed.

She glanced over to where he was seated in the bright blue plastic air chair she'd brought...though she hadn't told him about it until they'd arrived.

“It looks better with the cloth thrown over it.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it's more comfortable than a rock,” Walt acknowledged. He'd snorted in disgust upon first seeing it, but when she'd convinced him to give it a try, his attitude had shifted. It had taken even less convincing for him to use the raised air bed she'd sneaked onto one of the pack horses.

His face had been drawn and pale when they'd arrived the previous afternoon, and she'd wondered if he regretted the trip. But his determination while setting up camp had convinced her otherwise. Then he'd introduced her to a pool fed by both hot and cold springs that was sheer heaven; the ache in their muscles had melted away in the swirling mineral water.

“You should have brought a chair for yourself,” he said. “That way we could have a proper living room.”

She chuckled.

They had spent the morning searching for alluvial deposits. Tara's research had indicated those would be the most likely places to find the gems. Shortly before noon they had staked out a place to dig and then returned to camp to have lunch.

“We should get started right after we eat,” Walt told her. “Don't want to waste these long days.”

“Nope.”

She handed him a bowl and sat on a nearby log with her own.

“Not bad,” he said. “Is there a French spin to it?”

“Actually, it's the way an acquaintance in Japan makes her stew.”

Once they'd finished eating, Tara did the dishes at one of the hot springs and returned to the campsite. Walt was asleep and she read a book, waiting until he woke naturally.

An hour later he shook himself and yawned. “You shouldn't have let me nod off, but at least this satisfies our bargain for the day.”

Tara eyed him. While making plans for the trip, she'd asked him to agree to a nap each afternoon, or she wouldn't go. She suspected he was secretly relieved about the deal they'd struck—he could preserve his pride and still get the rest he needed.

“It wasn't long, but I guess it'll do. Ready to go prospecting?”

“I've been ready since I was a kid listening to Granddad tell his father's story.”

Suddenly there were sounds in the distance of heavy animals moving through brush. Walt stood and grabbed his rifle, swinging it to his shoulder with the ease of long practice. Tara had been surprised to see the weapon in their supplies, but he'd explained it was a precaution, in case they encountered a bear or mountain lion. The idea of having to kill such a magnificent creature horrified her, but he claimed it was mostly to scare them off.

Tensely, they waited. A minute later they saw a horse and rider, followed by a pack horse on a lead, coming through a sparsely wooded section to the southeast of them.

It was Josh.

“Holy cow, kid,” Walt grumbled when Josh got closer, lowering his rifle. “It isn't safe to creep up on a man that way.”

“I was hardly creeping,” Josh retorted. “You've had me in your sights for over a hundred feet.”

“What are you doing here?” Walt demanded.

“What do you think? I thought you had better sense than to pull a stunt like this.”

“I'm a grown man, not a senile fool. I made the choice and I'm the one who has to live with it.”

Josh looked at Tara, his eyes sparking in disgust. “I can't believe you, either.”

The injustice of it infuriated Tara. She and Walt had taken careful precautions, and they weren't neophytes when it came to living in the rough. Josh knew that, yet he was treating her like an idiot and Walt like a senile old man who couldn't be trusted.

“Apparently it has escaped your notice, Mr. McGregor, but we're perfectly safe in a comfortable campsite,” she retorted.

His jaw tightened as he turned back to his grandfather. “We'll head down the mountain in the morning. I just hope Mom won't hear about this and worry herself sick.”

“Sarah has already heard about it.” Walt's mouth curved in a devilish smile. “I called her before we left and explained what we were doing.”

Josh's eyes widened. “She didn't try to stop you?”

“My daughter knows better than that. And by the way, I wasn't asking for her permission. I was just letting her know. I won't be treated like a child. I'm staying here until I'm ready to leave. Right, Tara?”

She grinned. “Absolutely.”

As Walt limped out of the clearing with a load of their prospecting equipment, Tara resisted the temptation to thumb her nose at Josh.

“Tara, would you please—”

“I'm not doing anything except digging for sapphires,” she interrupted. Grabbing two shovels and the buckets, she walked away, as well.

Josh had come to fetch them home?

What a jackass.

* * *

J
OSH
WATCHED
T
ARA
disappear after his grandfather, fighting the sensation that his entire world was standing on its ear. His mother had been told about this crazy stunt and done nothing about it?

Had everyone in his life lost their freaking minds?

With a sigh, he glanced around the campsite. He was relieved to see a raised air bed, presumably for his grandfather's use. The lumpy thing on one side confused him until he investigated. A blow-up chair? It looked ridiculous, but it was probably more comfortable for Walt.

Josh sighed and unloaded his gear. They couldn't leave before morning, anyway. Packing up would take time, and it wasn't safe to travel down the hills at night, even with experienced mounts.

He tethered Lightfoot and his pack horse on long leads so they could graze in the lush grass with the other animals. Walt and Tara's horses were spread out in an open meadow, also tethered, though it was unlikely that any horse Walt had raised would stray. They loved him too much.

Josh laid out his own bedroll on a tarp and headed in the direction the other two had taken. He swiftly covered the ground and found them using shovels to move dirt and rocks, stopping occasionally to examine a stone.

“Have you found the mother lode yet?” he asked.

Tara gave him a chilly look while his grandfather rolled his eyes.

He had to admit they'd organized their search. They were steadily shoveling dirt into small buckets, and once one was full, his grandfather would carry it, dumping the contents in a heap near a creek some forty feet away.

At first Josh was outraged that Tara was letting Walt carry the loaded buckets, only to realize it was an easier task than continually bending and digging.

“Why are you moving the debris so far away?” he asked.

“Because it isn't debris the way you think.” Tara took a swallow of water from her canteen. “Sapphires can be found in alluvial deposits—that means gravel or sediment deposited when a river slows down,” she said in an exaggerated, condescending tone.

The corners of Josh's mouth twitched as Walt laughed and slapped his leg, no doubt recognizing payback for the times his grandson had acted as if Tara didn't know a cow from a hole in the ground.

“Anyway, you have to wash the gravel and check for gemstones,” she continued. “Walt built sieves, boxes with screens on the bottom, to make it easier.”

Tara dug the tip of her shovel into the ground again. In the office she'd worn silk suits; at the dance, she'd been sexy and alluring in a dress that had hugged her figure. Now she'd chosen a T-shirt and work jeans. They were snug, with worn patches across her bottom and knees, and yet she managed to look like a fashion model pretending to dig in the ground during a photo shoot.

Unable to bear watching the bending of her hips and the flexing of her shirt against her breasts, Josh grabbed one of the shovels. Tara's curves had given him many sleepless nights and would undoubtedly do so again tonight.

“All right, we'll look for sapphires this afternoon,” he announced. “That way you'll see it's hopeless, backbreaking work.”

Walt grunted and took another pail toward the debris pile while, unbelievably, Tara stuck her tongue out.

“Stop that,” Josh hissed.

“Why not? You're treating us both like children.”

He felt a muscle tick in his jaw. “That isn't true.”

“It's all a question of perspective.” She wiped her damp forehead. “Why does this bother you so much? I understand wanting to protect your grandfather, but you're worse than everyone else. No one else tried to rescue him from the dance floor or tell him not to go riding.”

Josh opened his mouth, but closed it as Walt returned with the empty bucket, and collected the one Tara had finished filling. When he was out of earshot again, Josh leaned forward. “I'm the one living on the ranch and watching what Grandpa does every day, all right?”

She rested her chin on the end of the shovel, her eyes curiously compassionate. “He also gave you the Boxing N. So now you feel even
more
responsible in case something happens. Do you feel guilty that you're young and capable and now own the ranch that means so much to him?”

“Something like that,” Josh muttered, startled by Tara's perception.

“Well, I've never been in your position, but I think everyone has to accept risks if they're going to have the life they want.”

Over by the creek, Walt dumped some of the debris on one of his homemade sieves and poured water over it.

Josh watched moodily.

Quality of life
was
important, but a fruitless search for sapphires wasn't the only way to have it.

“What do you think is going to happen when his hopes are crushed?” he asked. “Or if he falls? Grandpa is lucky to still
have
that leg, and who knows what would happen if he breaks it again.”

“Walt knows the risks,” Tara said, just as softly. “I thought it would just be an afternoon when I suggested going. Then he talked about heading out with pack horses and said he'd do it alone if I didn't go with him.”

Pain thumped through Josh's temples. He shouldn't have blamed Tara. They might have knocked heads since her arrival in Montana, but she
had
been good for his grandfather. Besides, while she might have spoken first about hunting for gems, Grandpa would probably have thought of it sooner or later.

“Have you been able to discuss a pain-management program with him?” Josh asked.

“Yes. Walt called it nonsense.”

“But in more colorful terms, right?”

Tara grinned wryly. “Definitely. He's very strong willed—how else do you think he's gotten this far?”

“Riding into the mountains couldn't have been easy in his condition,” Josh conceded.

She shook her head. “It's more than that. I've never been in daily, unremitting pain, so I can only guess, but getting up each morning and facing everything he feels inside must take more strength than most people possess.”

They both fell silent as Walt returned for another bucket.

“Find anything interesting?” Tara asked, gesturing toward the water.

“Not yet. Take a break from digging and we'll go through more together.”

“Okay.”

Josh grabbed the second bucket, concerned his grandfather would try carrying two loads at once. He hated to hear Walt's breathing become heavier just from carrying a small bucket of soil. Despite the raised air bed, he would have a rough night. Surely he would be eager to go home soon.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
Josh woke to the scent of food cooking. After a night in the open air, he was starving. He rolled over to see Tara bending over a grill on the fire.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. How dare she look so fresh and energetic?

Dragging himself to his feet, he stumbled toward the fire. “Any coffee?”

She nodded. “It's been a while since I brewed a pot over a campfire, but Walt says it tastes all right.”

“May I have a cup?”

She sent him a wry glance. “I'm tempted to refuse, but I'll be charitable. Sugar and powdered cream are in those containers.”

Grateful, Josh accepted a battered enamel mug filled with steaming coffee. He flavored it the way he liked and drank quickly; the caffeine couldn't hit his system fast enough.

Walt returned to camp and hung a small towel on a tree branch. His hair was damp and he was clean shaven.

“Good morning,” Josh told him.

“It's good so long as you understand I'm not leaving until I'm ready.”

“This has to be hard on you. One night and I feel fifty years older.”

“Then you should have brought a comfortable place to sleep and sit,” Walt retorted, lowering himself into the inflated chair.

Tara snickered.

“We only have two plates,” she said, handing Josh the frying pan, “so you'll need to eat breakfast out of that. Luckily, we have an extra fork, so you won't be doing the caveman thing with your fingers.”

She passed a plate to Walt and began eating herself.

Josh forked up a mouthful and chewed thoughtfully. It was tasty, especially for scrambled powdered eggs. Tara had added an herb, along with cheese, making them far more palatable than they might have been.