The Rancher's Prospect (5 page)

“That doesn't mean he
can't
understand, provided the people around him don't treat him as a senile old man. Or as a child, for that matter. He's obviously still sharp.”

“I'm
not
treating him that way.”

“Ha.” She shrugged, and he glanced away, not wanting to watch the movement of the soft fabric of her blouse.

“Incidentally,” he said, “you might find jeans and a T-shirt more practical on the Boxing N than silk.”

“Thank you
so
much for the advice,” she returned with an edge of sarcasm. It was probably deserved; he didn't have any business suggesting what sort of clothing she should wear.

“Just leave the nonoffice items near the door,” he said. “I'll get them out of your way later.”

“If that's what Walt wants me to do.”

Seething with anger, Josh left. At least he was going to get the office and accounts computerized, but he wasn't sure if he'd won or lost the latest skirmish. He didn't even know if winning and losing was the point. If he won, then his grandfather lost. But if things didn't get into shape soon, his reputation would suffer, and the ranch might be hard to keep going.

Josh's trust fund was generous, but he'd quietly used some of it to pay his grandparents' medical bills not covered by insurance. There was also the question of gift taxes on the Boxing N, which he fully expected to pay instead of his grandfather. The remaining principal, while substantial, couldn't support a failing proposition forever.

* * *

L
AUREN
MOVED
FROM
one patient to another as quickly as possible. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up behind schedule, and that wasn't fair to Tara—her sister was cutting her first day at the Boxing N short so they could spend the afternoon together. They had planned to do it the previous Friday, but the other physician's assistant had called, asking her to trade shifts because his wife was ill.

Her nerves were on edge for fear that Carl might stop by again. It was ironic, because she'd enjoyed her date with him even more than the first ones. After dinner, they'd walked along the river while the sun dropped low in the sky and cast a rosy light over the landscape.

When she'd described the setting to Tara, her sister had made a dry comment about Carl devising the ideal romantic moment, only to quickly apologize. They hadn't discussed men that much, but Lauren suspected that neither of them had a stellar record.

“I heard that you and Sheriff Stanfield went out this weekend,” Ethel Carter commented as Lauren took her blood pressure.

The nurse had taken it earlier, but the first check was always high. Mrs. Carter got stressed when she walked into the clinic, a case of white-coat syndrome, as it was called. Some medical professionals discounted the condition, but Lauren was a believer.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Virginia was at the senior center exercise group this morning. Her daughter lives in Windy Bluffs and saw you at the Mexican restaurant. It's nice that you're still going out together.”

Great. Gossip was the last thing Lauren needed. Emily had warned her when she'd moved to Schuyler that it was the most popular form of entertainment in town.

“We're friends,” Lauren said as though it didn't matter very much. It was true. She and Carl
were
friends. “Are you taking your blood pressure medicine every day?”

“Whenever I remember.”

“It's important to be consistent, okay? We can talk about ways to make that easier at your next appointment.”

“Of course, dear. Did you and the sheriff have a nice evening together?”

“La Bonita is a terrific restaurant, and their fresh salsa is fantastic. I'm going to take my sister there soon.”

Ethel looked disappointed and might have tried probing further, but Lauren patted her shoulder and handed over several prescription refills.

“Keep up the exercise,” she instructed. “It's obviously doing you good.”

Ethel's face creased into a smile. “I only started because you kept urging me to try. I
do
feel better. The arthritis doesn't hurt as much, and I have more energy.”

“That's wonderful.”

Lauren went on to her next patient, hoping she wouldn't have to field more questions about her and Carl Stanfield. It could get really old, really fast.

* * *

T
ARA
SPENT
THE
remainder of the morning cleaning out the rest of the file cabinets and emptying cupboards of equipment that had nothing to do with office work. Most of it couldn't have been used in decades, and she couldn't even tell what some items were. She recognized spurs, of course, and rusted samples of barbed wire. The rest was pretty strange, reminiscent of medieval torture implements she'd seen in museums across Europe.

She mentioned it when Walt came in and he chuckled. “The animals might have agreed. We're a little more modern with our methods now, but I gotta admit that I still don't enjoy branding time. If I'd ever found those sapphires in the mountains, I might have even given up on cattle ranching and stuck with horse breeding.”

“Sapphires?” Tara exclaimed, her imagination stirring. “I didn't know they had any in Montana.”

“They do, and my grandpa used to say his dad once found some on the Boxing N. As a kid I searched plenty and finally gave up.”

“A treasure hunt. Exciting.”

“True. It was great fun.” The old man's eyes gleamed with the memories.

Walt had brought her more boxes, and when he'd left again she began filling them, taking digital photos of each item. If she could have identified everything with a name, she would have merely logged them, but this was the only way she knew how to keep track. Walt probably didn't care, but in light of the contentious relationship he had with his grandson, she wanted to keep a record of everything she did in the office.

At noon she tidied up and stepped out to the small porch, looking around for Walt. He wasn't there, so she headed for the main house and knocked.

“Is there something you need?” Josh's voice came from behind, startling her.

Tara turned. “Not exactly. I'm leaving and didn't know whether the office should be locked.”

“You're leaving? It's only noon.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I set my own hours. And need I remind you that it isn't any of your business?”

“I see.”

“It doesn't matter whether you see or not. Walt knows my hours will vary depending upon my sister's schedule and my other commitments.”

“You don't have to work here at all,” he offered quickly.

“Yeah, I understood that the first time you mentioned it,” she returned. “Now, should the office door be locked or not?”

“I'll lock it and have a key made for you.”

“Thank you.”

To the left of where they stood, the porch was secluded, the view of the ranch obscured by a blooming vine that released a lovely scent, teasing Tara's senses. She could see how it might be hard to find a private outdoor space, even out in the country, and this was the kind of quiet spot where a husband and wife could steal a moment together.

Josh cocked his head. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, curiosity in his eyes.

“Oh.” She gestured at the corner of the porch. “I was just thinking how the vines must have given your grandparents a nice place to share a kiss in the middle of the day. You know, where no one else was likely to see.”

She'd made the comment specific to his grandparents, uncomfortable with the thought that
any couple
might find it a pleasant place for intimacies. The scent of the flowers was evocative, making her mind conjure images that didn't belong there. After all, she wasn't good at physical intimacy. Or any form of intimacy, for that matter.

“Nice thought, but off base, I'm afraid,” Josh responded quietly. “My grandparents led somewhat separate lives. They had little in common. Grandma came from the city, and city girls don't adjust well to Montana ranches. I'm sure they cared for each other, but I doubt their marriage would have lasted in today's world.”

Tara hid her shock at Josh's blunt statement. It seemed at odds with Walt's painful declaration about his wife earlier that morning. What had he said...that he'd have done anything for her?

Josh gave her a narrow look. “I'm only telling you because if you have a sentimental belief that Grandpa is desperately pining for his wife and needs your support, you can relax.”

“No worries,” she answered evenly. “Thanks for being original this time. Were you hoping I'd lose sympathy for Walt and want to leave?”

“That isn't what I was doing,” he insisted, though the faint chagrin in his face told her differently. “I meant to ask before, what about all those boxes I saw my grandfather bringing to the office?” It was an obvious effort to changes the subject.

“They were for the nonoffice items. Walt is going to store them somewhere else. I couldn't catalog the contents since I didn't recognize most of the stuff, but I took pictures so there would be a record.”

“Isn't that overkill?”

“It seemed best under the circumstances. Uh... Walt told me there might be sapphires on the Boxing N.”

“That's a family myth. I ordered a survey ten years ago, and there's nothing here.”

“Surveys can be wrong. Walt was so energized when he told me about searching for them as a kid, it occurred to me that another search might give him a new purpose.”

Josh's eyes flared. “The last thing he needs is to get revved up about something utterly pointless.”

“I thought you'd prefer getting him interested in something other than the ranch.”

“That wouldn't stop his interfering—it would just add a new layer of complication.”

“Well, I think you're wrong, and I'm going to talk with Walt about it.”

She went to her rental car, refusing to look back to see if Josh was watching.

It was only in the car that she glanced at the rearview mirror. While Josh was still standing in front of the large house, it was hard to know if he was looking her way or at one of the nearby barns.

Not that it mattered. She wasn't interested in him as a man. With that reminder, Tara started her sedan and drove steadily down the gravel road.

CHAPTER FIVE

J
OSH
DIDN
'
T
SLEEP
WELL
; he was too frustrated over the way Tara was making his life even more of a challenge. Sapphire hunting was fine for children to dream about, but Walt was an old man with disabling injuries. He didn't need to get excited about something he couldn't possibly do. Josh enjoyed rock hunting and polishing as a hobby, though he had little time for it these days. But it had been a long time since he'd wasted his energy on thoughts of finding gemstones.

Despite his lack of rest, Josh was out before dawn the next morning so he could deal with the boxes Tara had packed. He'd wanted to do it the previous afternoon, but there hadn't been time after a series of panicked calls from one of the young cowhands he'd finally managed to employ.

“I wouldn't have hired such a kid,” Walt had snorted.

“He was the best of the applicants,” Josh had returned as politely as possible. He didn't want to explain that word had gotten around about Walt's behavior and experienced hands were avoiding the Boxing N. With a little luck, that would begin changing soon. In the meantime he was trying to pair the new guys with ones who'd been around longer.

Fortunately his grandfather had been kept too busy in the foaling barn to think about anything else—hired hands, boxes
or
sapphires. Walt had two mares on the verge of foaling and tended to baby them. Otherwise he probably would have moved the boxes himself. At the very least he would have tried, but there were times when he barely managed to keep himself upright; the last thing he needed was to fall under a heavy load. Several surgeries had saved his leg, but it didn't have the strength to do much.

Josh stacked the boxes in the foreman's house; he'd go through them when he had a chance, although it was unlikely they contained much of value.

After a quick breakfast, he went out to give orders to the ranch hands; at least they'd all shown up for work and nobody had quit for several days. Perhaps he should be grateful for small blessings.

He returned to the office, hoping that Walt wouldn't decide to go, as well. But his grandfather was already there, glaring at the empty space next to the door.

“What did you do with everything?” he demanded.

“Hauled it out.”

“I was going to do that.”

“Now you don't have to,” Josh told him. Grandpa's doctor had told him to avoid heavy lifting, but he had trouble accepting limitations.

Tara arrived with two cartons of file folders in her arms.

“Good morning,” she said cheerily. “You know, Walt, I keep wondering about those sapphires you mentioned.”

Josh ground his teeth when she glanced at him with an innocent expression.

Walt grunted. “What do you mean?”

“There are all these old records here in the office. Could there be anything more specific about the location?”

“Don't know, but it's worth checking. Keep your eyes peeled,” Walt urged. “Right now I've gotta go check on Belle.”

Trying to control his temper, Josh waited until he and Tara were alone, then he started looking through a stack of papers on the desk. Obviously there was no point debating the sapphire issue; Tara was clearly determined to do the opposite of what he wanted.

“The men's paychecks are overdue,” Josh said shortly. “I need everything available on payroll records.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “I'll make that a priority.”

He was tempted to ask why she wasn't insisting on first talking to his grandfather, then realized it affected her, as well. Unless things were sorted out, she wouldn't get paid, either.

Taking a key on a ring from his back pocket, he tossed it onto the desk. “That's for the office. The computer should be delivered later today, along with a combo printer/scanner/fax machine. The technician will work with the phone company to make sure the internet is up and running. Are you working another half day again?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No, not that it's your business.”

“I just wanted to know if you'll be here when everything arrives.”

“Yeah, right,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm.

He went around the desk to avoid sliding too closely past Tara's slim figure as he left. She was wearing another outfit more suited to the city than Montana—she'd been warned, so it wasn't his concern if she wanted to risk destroying her expensive clothes at the Boxing N's office.

* * *

C
ARL
COULDN
'
T
RESIST
stopping at the clinic as he passed it early Tuesday morning.

“Is there any chance that Lauren is between patients?” he asked the receptionist.

“You're in luck,” Karen said. “Go on back to her office.”

He smiled, pleased. It was the second time in less than a week that he'd been able to catch Lauren at the clinic. On earlier visits he hadn't had much success.

At Lauren's door, he watched her standing at a work counter, studying a page in a thick book and making notes on a pad of paper.

“Hey,” he said softly, trying not to startle her.

Lauren looked up. “Good morning, Carl. Something up?”

“I just stopped to say hello.”

“That's nice. Thanks again for dinner.”

“How about trying one of the other places in Windy Bluffs?”

“I don't want to plan much until Tara gets her schedule in place.” Lauren's face grew wistful. “Once her visit is over, I won't get to see her that often. It's anyone's guess where she'll be living next.”

Carl nodded. “At least it's easier to keep in touch now than in the old days. There's always Skype and email.”

“It still isn't the same as being with someone in person. I don't want to miss out on time with her.”

He hesitated, once again getting the feeling that Lauren was stalling for reasons that went beyond what she was saying.

But why?

They'd had a great time after she'd first arrived in Schuyler, going to various community functions, eating out and seeing movies together. Then she began putting him off.

Carl tried to think if he'd done anything wrong. Could it be the time he'd gotten an emergency call? It wasn't as if he'd dragged her into the middle of a bank robbery, and Lauren had never suggested she was concerned about getting involved with someone in law enforcement. If she had, he would have respected her feelings and backed off.

He'd finally decided to cool it for a while. Now they'd had another terrific date and she was putting him off again.

“Surely you aren't planning to spend
all
your free time with Tara,” he said finally.

“I just want things to go well. I'm worried that she might decide... I don't know...that family isn't very important to her.”

“Isn't she the one who found you?”

Lauren's blue eyes darkened. “Yes, though I'm not certain why she started searching. She's very self-sufficient.”

Carl reached out and squeezed Lauren's hand. “I can't imagine her being anything except delighted to have you as a sister. Tell you what, I'll check back in a few days to see if a good time opens up for us to get together.”

“Okay.” She glanced through the open office door before continuing in a low voice. “Carl, there's another thing. We were seen at the restaurant by someone who recognized us. Gossip had finally died down, and now I'm getting comments again. Treating patients is much harder if they're asking about my personal life.”

Relief went through Carl. It made sense that Lauren wanted to avoid gossip. She was such a conscientious PA, she'd naturally be concerned that a patient's curiosity could affect their care.

He replied just as quietly. “Don't worry. We can go even farther than Windy Bluffs, if necessary. Or eat a picnic out in the country.”

Her smile was strained, and he realized he'd pushed too hard—one of his faults. He tended to go full steam ahead in everything, which wasn't necessarily the best strategy with a woman like Lauren. Besides, she
did
have a lot going on in her life right now. It couldn't be easy getting to know a perfect stranger who was also your sister, and it hadn't been that long since she'd changed jobs and moved to a new state.

“Th-thanks,” she replied.

“No problem. Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

Karen said goodbye on his way out, and another man offered a greeting at they passed each other at the front door. Carl winced. He didn't want to become grist in Schuyler's gossip mill, either. Obviously coming to the clinic was a bad idea. That had to be part of what Lauren had tried to say, but she was too nice to be blunt. So, unless they officially became a couple, he should phone or run by her apartment.

For once in his life, he would have to take things slow.

* * *

A
S
MUCH
AS
T
ARA
had wanted to goad Josh about finding him in the ranch office, she'd restrained herself. It was a serious matter if the ranch hands weren't getting paid on time. They shouldn't have to suffer financially because their employer and his grandfather couldn't get along.

“Is it all right with you if I look for information on the current payroll and give it to your grandson?” she asked Walt when he returned.

“Guess so,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed. “I s'pose I haven't been as good at keeping that up as I should have been. Maybe Josh should just start signing the regular payroll checks like he wants. But I'm still paying you, not him.” He immediately stomped out, and Tara got angry all over again at Josh. Whether it was reasonable or not, she intended to support Walt and thought it was unfair to have his shortcomings thrown in his face.

From her initial survey of the office, Tara remembered seeing a few payroll records stuffed inside a large book. Now she searched and found it had been moved to a shelf, with other books piled on top.

For the next several hours she pieced together as much information as possible. She respected Walt, but his records were in an even greater tangle than she'd originally thought. She'd heard him called an old-time cattleman and she suspected that meant lots of hours in the saddle, a fair amount of his life battling the elements, with an undying hatred for paperwork.

At noon she absently took a container of yogurt from her bag and ate while finishing her notes. The one relatively modern amenity in the office was a small copier, so she made duplicates for Josh, planning to leave them on his porch.

She stepped outside and looked around. Past the barns was a long, low house that Walt had mentioned was normally the foreman's home. Apparently his grandson had decided to move in there rather than the central ranch house...a choice that plainly didn't sit well with the old gentleman.

Stretching her legs felt good, and she quickly reached the foreman's home. It was picturesque, but unlike the main ranch house, there were signs of deferred maintenance, including a torn screen. She set the copies she'd made on a small table. A breeze ruffled the pages, and she glanced around for something to weigh them down.

Josh stepped out of the door as she found a small rock.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I made preliminary notes on the payroll after I spoke to Walt about your request,” she told him, to make it clear that his grandfather had been informed. She pointed to the table. “They might help get your cowhands paid.”

“Really.”

His voice was skeptical, but she decided not to challenge him on it. Turning
everything
into a battle wouldn't help them coexist.

Tara tilted her head back. “Yes. So, the new owner of the ranch lives in the foreman's house. Where does the foreman live?”

“Grandpa could never keep a foreman. He was too determined to run every aspect of the ranch himself. Because of that, the house has usually been empty, except when family needed a place to stay. I decided to move in when I came back from Texas so I could have some privacy.”

The need for privacy was something she understood. But she frowned. “Aren't you doing the same thing?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you haven't hired a foreman, either. I understand you bossed a big ranch down in Texas, so maybe you don't need a second in command, but it sounds as if you and your grandfather have the same management style.”

The muscle ticked again in Josh's jaw, then a thoughtful look entered his eyes.

“That might be something to think about.”

His reasonableness was surprising; it didn't seem in character, given what she'd seen of him so far.

Tara returned to the office, and soon afterward the computer arrived. She had already cleared a space for the new equipment and continued sorting documents while an employee from Schuyler Office Supply set up the system.

“Wow,” the woman said finally, looking around as she ran a printer test. “Don't tell me it's your job to deal with this disaster area.”

“'Fraid so,” Tara replied cheerfully. The prospect of hard work didn't bother her. She was enjoying her time on the Boxing N, despite the complications Josh McGregor kept presenting.

Another hour passed before she saw Walt again. He limped into the office and dropped into an easy chair shortly after two. His face was weary and lined with pain.

“Hi,” she greeted. “I have a pot of coffee going. Would you like a cup?”

“Uh, sure.” He started to get up, but she waved him down.

“Cream or sugar?” she asked.

“Black as pitch.”

“I probably don't make it Montana style,” she explained as she handed him a mug.

He swallowed some and waved the mug in the air. “This is good. Don't bother with Montana style.”