JOSH 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.
* * *
CARL 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.
* * *
AS MUCH AS TARA 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.”
Tara grinned. “Glad you like it.”
He settled back with a sigh. “I’ve mostly been in the foaling barn since yesterday afternoon. My favorite mare, Belle, had a hard delivery, and the foal wasn’t doing well at first.”
“How are they now?”
“Much better.” He smiled tiredly, almost dreamily, and she suspected he’d taken a pain pill. “Evelyn and I celebrated whenever a new colt or filly came along. We were only blessed with Sarah, so the foals became the other children we couldn’t have. I remember the day Belle was born. Evelyn and I spent the night in the barn and danced in the rain the next morning. Evelyn was so beautiful...hair all wet and her blue eyes shining like cornflowers...”
Walt’s voice trailed off, and his eyelids drooped. Tara gently took the mug and set it on the table. He mumbled something and relaxed into sleep, something she figured he badly needed.
Yet as she returned to the paperwork she was sorting by the year, she was puzzled anew by the devotion Walt expressed for his wife. Josh believed his grandparents’ marriage had been less than happy, however civil it might have been. But what she kept hearing from Walt told a very different story. Of course, he might be idealizing Evelyn now that she was gone. On the other hand, grandsons couldn’t possibly know everything about their grandparents.
The wastebasket filled for the third time that day, and she took it out to the metal barrel behind the office. Walt had explained they didn’t have garbage service this far out of Schuyler, so they burned everything combustible and one of the ranch hands took a load to the town landfill every week or two.
“You weren’t supposed to throw any papers away until I’d checked them,” Josh said out of the blue.
Startled, her arm jerked and most of the wastebasket’s contents fell outside the barrel.
“Thanks loads,” she yelped, grabbing for the paper sailing away in the afternoon breeze.
It took several minutes and long dashes in different directions before everything was stuffed back into the wastebasket.
“Okay,” she hissed, breathing hard with the effort. “Since you don’t trust me to tell the difference between a record and trash, you can go through every scrap. I’m sure Walt won’t mind that.” She pulled a handful out and handed it to him.
His face was expressionless as he glanced at the doodles and stray figures that had no meaning or reference.
“Walt told me to get rid of this kind of thing,” she continued, “along with old newspapers and advertising flyers, which I’m finding everywhere. But you know best, so you really ought to micromanage the entire trash detail. By the way, I brought two other loads out earlier, so check carefully.” She kicked the heavy metal drum.
Josh took the wastebasket, emptied it into the barrel and replaced the heavy lid. “Sorry, I overreacted.”
“That seems to be your favorite activity. Have you made any more emergency trips to the medical clinic?”
Tight-lipped, he wheeled around and marched away without responding.
Suddenly tired, Tara went back into the office. Walt was awake again, blinking sleepily.
“I thought you’d left,” he grumbled.
“Not until you introduce me to your new foal.”
His face brightened. “Let’s go.” He struggled to his feet, and Tara debated whether to offer assistance. Perhaps not. The old guy was proud and must hate appearing weak in front of anybody.
Walt limped toward the barns. At one of the well-kept structures, he turned into an open door and led her to a large stall. Josh was there with a cowhand who seemed to regard Walt with apprehension.
“Tara wants to see the foal,” Walt announced brusquely.
Josh’s eyes narrowed, whether from irritation or something else she didn’t know. Walt stepped into the stall, and his face softened as he murmured to the mare and her baby.
Tara didn’t know much about equine bloodlines, but clearly Belle was special. She had a dark coat, almost black, with a hint of red. Her head arched high and proud while her eyes seemed unusually intelligent. And watchful. Though she showed pleasure at seeing Walt, she kept a close watch on the stranger he’d brought.
The newborn stood close to its mother’s side, teetering on legs that looked too thin to hold it up. Except for a white blaze on its nose, it was a perfect miniature of Belle.
The cowhand tipped his hat to Tara in a gesture that was quickly becoming familiar, and hurried away, no doubt uncomfortable with the tension between the new ranch owner and the former one.
The mare whinnied nervously.
“Whoa, Belle, honey,” Walt murmured to soothe her. His old hands caught her halter and he waved at Tara to come closer.
“Be careful where you step,” Josh warned. “You aren’t wearing boots.”
It was good advice, though delivered in a mocking tone. She was wearing a favorite pair of Italian sandals and would hate to ruin them. So Tara moved carefully into the stall. The foal’s gaze met hers, and she felt a sense of wonder akin to what she’d felt upon seeing her first kangaroo in the wild.
“What is it, male or female?” she asked.
“It’s a filly. That means it’s a female,” Josh said as if she was simpleminded.
“I’m sure she knows that, but even if she doesn’t, you don’t need to be condescending,” Walt admonished. “Tara has never been on a ranch before, so we can’t expect her to know what we take for granted. Your grandma didn’t have a clue in the beginning, and she learned.”
The hostility between them seemed to intensify again, so Tara smiled at Walt. “It’s a beautiful baby. Have you picked a name?”
“What would you call her?” Walt asked.
“I don’t know what names are good for horses,” she admitted. “How many are born on the ranch each year?”
“Around twelve,” Walt said. “Folks like our horses real well, even if we don’t have one of those fancy breeding programs.”
He threw a challenging stare at Josh and Tara understood why the ranch hands would be uneasy in their presence. Did their relationship disintegrate after Josh became the owner of the Boxing N, or had it always been this bad?
“I’m going to call this little one Tara,” Walt announced. “We’ve never had a Tara on the Boxing N.”
From the corner of Tara’s eye, she saw the usual muscle in Josh’s jaw tighten. His uptight expression was as predictable as the sun coming up in the morning.
“That’s flattering,” she told Walt, “but I won’t feel bad if you change your mind and call her something else.”
“Nope, Tara it is.” His head cocked. “It’s always good to have a story to go along with a name. Why did your folks call you Tara?”
Though she smiled, she winced inside. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I never knew my parents.”
“That’s a shame. Our daughter used to love hearing us tell how Evelyn and I met in San Francisco, down in Chinatown, while I was visiting the West Coast. She called me a bullheaded cowboy whose brains were in his boots, but married me anyhow.”
“I can see how your daughter would have enjoyed that. As for me, I grew up in foster homes,” she explained quietly.
“Don’t you remember, Grandpa?” Josh asked in a louder voice. “Tara is Lauren Spencer’s twin sister. They were separated as babies and met for the first time last year. They visited at the hospital when Alaina was having her baby.”
“Of course I remember talking to Tara at the hospital—that’s how I knew what kind of work she does,” Walt answered testily.
“I’d better leave now,” Tara interjected. “Thanks for showing me your new filly, Walt.” She turned, glared at Josh and carefully picked her way out of the barn.
* * *
JOSH FOLLOWED AS Tara headed for the ranch office. He had to hustle because she could walk quickly in those ridiculous sandals. Ridiculous, that was, for a ranch. They looked insanely sexy on her, as well.
“What’s your problem now?” he demanded.
“About what?”
“You seemed upset back there. I apologized for overreacting about the trash. Are you still holding a grudge?”
“No more than you’re holding one because I didn’t take your advice about what clothes to wear.”
Josh sighed. Tara’s clothing bothered him because he was attracted to her and didn’t want to be. Hell, she was a city woman with an annoying personality. The puzzle was how she managed to get along so well with his grandfather when he could barely get Walt to share a civil conversation. Their relationship had never been great; now it was lousy.
“Why did you leave the barn in a huff?” he asked again.
“It wasn’t a huff. I just don’t appreciate hearing you imply that Walt is having memory problems.”
“I didn’t,” Josh denied, only to question whether it might have sounded that way. The doctor had warned the family to keep a watchful eye, and it was hard to figure out what his grandfather knew and didn’t know. Sometimes Josh even wondered if Walt was covering a memory lapse with his irascible behavior. “Grandpa has issues and I’m trying to gauge how serious they might be. You must have noticed how he ducked the question about you and your sister.”
He didn’t want to admit that Dr. Taylor was worried his grandfather could be suffering from depression. It wouldn’t be unusual in light of his injuries and the dramatic changes to his world.
Tara’s face grew thoughtful. “Strong medication might cause lapses in memory. And when you think about it, being unable to remember the situation with me and Lauren isn’t remarkable. Walt has far more important things to deal with right now.”
“True. We’ve had a hard time getting him to use the proper dosage until the pain gets out of control, then I suspect he takes too much.” Josh hesitated. “The two of you seem to be getting along. Is there any chance you could encourage him to participate in a pain-management program? Dr. Taylor has mentioned it, but Grandpa called it ‘la-di-da nonsense.’”
“That sounds like him. I’ll think about it, but don’t get your hopes up. He might fire me on the spot...or is that why you suggested it?” The tiniest smile gleamed in Tara’s blue eyes.
“Definitely not. At least this time.”
She grinned more widely. “I’ll take your word for it...this time.”
Josh chuckled. Maybe there was a reason his grandfather enjoyed Tara’s company so much. She had a sharp wit and didn’t back down. Walt had never liked quitters and wouldn’t respect anyone who wasn’t willing take it on the chin for something they believed in.
“Is there anything else you want?” Tara asked.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks for the information you put together this morning. Has the computer been delivered?”
“Yes, and Desiree, the employee from Schuyler Office Supplies, installed the payroll program. It shouldn’t take long to get the process functional. But you’ll have to wait to print checks off the system. I asked if the store had blank check stock, and Desiree said they’d need to put in a special order.”
He nodded. “Thanks for jumping on it right way. I’m sure you’re interested in getting paid, as well.”
The humor in Tara’s face vanished. “That isn’t why I made it a priority. Walt is my employer, so the ranch’s payroll records have nothing to do with me,” she explained with exaggerated patience.
“There’s no need to get touchy again. I just don’t want the Boxing N to become known for tardy payments. Integrity is important.”
She let out a long breath. “I’m glad you value integrity, but you haven’t lived paycheck to paycheck without your family’s wealth to keep you secure. I grew up in neighborhoods where an overdue check meant a family couldn’t eat or pay the rent. Some of the Boxing N’s ranch hands may be in the same boat. That’s more important than your reputation.”
Heat crept up Josh’s neck. “I know that. What kind of person do you think I am?”
Tara lifted her shoulders. The gesture was elegant, and he couldn’t help thinking that she’d look more at home at a French château than in Montana. “All I know is what I’ve seen between you and Walt, and the way you acted at the clinic,” she said. “Oh, and the way you’ve done your level best to get rid of me. It hasn’t been impressive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my things. I’ve had a long day.”
He watched her go into the office and then come out again and leave in her car.
She had a point. He’d never expected things to turn out like this. Sometimes he didn’t recognize himself when he was arguing with Walt or agonizing over a cowhand quitting.
As for Tara?
On one matter they totally agreed: they didn’t care for each other. That was okay, though he was fighting an undeniable attraction to her, a response that was purely chemical. She had masses of honey-gold hair and her eyes were amazing, blue with copper flecks. Her figure was slim in the right places and nicely curved everywhere else.
The mystery was why he didn’t feel the same response to her twin sister. Although he wasn’t interested in a relationship, Lauren was someone who fit in Montana, whereas Tara was standing in the way of his goals, right along with Walt.
Sometimes Josh wanted to tear his hair out when he and his grandfather argued in front of the ranch hands. Clear lines of authority were needed on a ranch, but he couldn’t blame the hands for being uncertain about who was in charge. It would get even worse once the Boxing N employees figured out the person working in the ranch’s business office didn’t work for him.
He pictured Tara in his mind. Silk and linen clothing despite his warnings. An air of sophistication and hints of an accent in her voice that showed how long she’d worked outside the United States. In one of his grandfather’s less irascible moments, he’d mentioned her love for travel and living in different countries. While it was clear she’d never fit in in Schuyler, it seemed equally clear she didn’t want to fit in. Not that he’d known that when they first met. His instincts had simply told him she was a very beautiful, attractive woman who was utterly impossible.