LATER THAT NIGHT, Josh lay on his back in the bunkhouse, listening to the familiar sounds of a ranch. Cows lowing in the distance. The occasional neigh of horses. The call of a coyote. Crickets. A breeze rustling the trees outside.
The evening had been pleasant, but he hadn’t been able to escape his underlying questions. While Casey and Marc were great kids—smart and inquisitive, with distinct personalities—he couldn’t see himself in their faces or mannerisms. Yet that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Kelly resembled her maternal grandparents much more than Harry or her mother.
As for Kelly? Her edginess hadn’t necessarily meant anything, either.
Harry had been strangely subdued, but Josh had seen nothing unusual in the rest of the family. Apple crisp with ice cream had followed the meal and then they’d played a round of dominoes while the boys did their schoolwork. The cozy scene was topped by the two dogs curled up in front of the fireplace, one with a heavily bandaged leg and a cone around his neck. Very homey, unlike the thoroughly male world he’d grown up in. His childhood might have been different if his mother had lived, but she’d died when he was four, leaving just him and his dad.
Wanting to be a courteous guest, Josh had excused himself early and returned to the bunkhouse. But he was restless, which ordinarily wasn’t a problem he faced. Being on the road so much, heading from one rodeo venue to another, he’d learned to sleep anywhere, anytime.
“Blast,” he muttered to himself, sitting up and checking the time on his phone. It was almost 1:00 a.m.
He got dressed, thinking a walk would help.
Outside he saw the main barn was dark, but the lights were burning in a large barn on the outer perimeter of the ranch center. Instinctively he headed for it and went inside.
“Hello?” he called. Several horses stamped their feet and a few poked their heads over the stall doors to look at him.
“Is that you, Grant?” called Kelly’s voice.
“It’s Josh.” In a large box stall he found Kelly standing by a pregnant mare. Her tail had been neatly wrapped for foaling, but it didn’t look as if her water had broken. He rolled up his sleeves. “Who’s Grant?”
“Our veterinarian. I called him a little while ago. It’s Fiona Chance’s first pregnancy and the foal isn’t in the right position.”
“Is she wary of strangers?”
Kelly slid a hand down the mare’s flank. “She’s usually mellow, but has gotten more high-strung the past couple of weeks. Approach her slowly and see how she reacts.”
Josh stepped next to the horse and stroked her neck with a low, wordless murmur. The mare’s tension radiated into his fingertips. “She’s gorgeous,” he said at length.
“Thanks. She’s carrying one of Lightfoot’s foals.”
It made sense. Lightfoot was one of the finest Appaloosa stallions he’d set eyes on, even topping his favorite mount, Quicksilver.
“What can I do to help?” he asked.
Josh almost expected Kelly to order him away. Instead she pointed to the supplies she’d stacked nearby. “There’s a sink in the rear of the barn. Scrub up, put on a pair of sterile gloves and be ready to lend a hand in case Grant is delayed. I’ve already given Fiona Chance a good wash.”
He did as Kelly asked, waiting until he’d donned the gloves before making a comment. “I’m amazed you’re willing to accept my help, considering how reluctant you were to have me stay at the ranch.”
“When it comes to my horses, I’ll take any qualified help. Granddad would be here, but he had knee replacement surgery a few weeks ago and I don’t want to ask him unless absolutely necessary. As for Harry, he’s too excitable. That’s the last thing a foaling mare needs.”
“What about your cowhands?”
“They’re working with a colicky gelding over on the Galloping G. I told them not to come because I was calling Grant. He’s the best vet in the county. We’ve helped birth more than one foal together.”
Josh frowned. The warmth in Kelly’s tone when talking about the veterinarian didn’t have anything to do with him.
But he still didn’t like it.
* * *
GRANT LATHAM PARKED near the Kindred Ranch foaling barn and got out, thinking he must have set a speed record getting there. Kelly didn’t phone after hours unless she was really worried. He strode into the barn and noticed she wasn’t alone; a man he didn’t recognize was in the large, loose box where Fiona Chance was moving restlessly. The mare looked distressed, but not in immediate danger.
Yet. He had faith in Kelly’s instincts.
“Grant, thanks for coming so fast,” Kelly said. “Sorry about the late hour.”
“Not to worry. We both know that horses, like human babies, rarely give birth at convenient moments. If I’d wanted to stay home at night, I would have become a podiatrist.”
Kelly laughed, which was what he’d intended. She was a good mother and took equally fine care of the animals on the ranch. Strength and compassion were just two of the things he admired about her. He still wished she would marry him, but when he’d proposed, she’d left little room to hope she would change her mind.
It wasn’t that he was lonely, as Kelly had teasingly suggested. True, in a place like Shelton, the singles scene was limited, but he’d known that when buying his veterinary practice six years earlier. In any case, there were enough unmarried women in his age range, eager to socialize, to keep loneliness at bay.
Just then the mare’s water broke and Grant focused on the task at hand. He did an exam and was glad Kelly had called him.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
DAWN WAS BREAKING when Fiona Chance finally gave birth to a colt that was mostly black like his sire, but with a broader sprinkling of blurry white spots on his rump.
Kelly was delighted.
Kindred Ranch had always raised cattle and she’d gotten the ranch certified as organic, but even before her grandfather had put her in charge, she’d worked to diversify the operation with horse breeding. It made sense. Horse sales were less likely to be affected by chronically rising and falling beef prices. She’d even resolved some of that concern, however, since now her cows were largely sold as breeding stock to other organic producers. Kindred Ranch cattle were in high demand.
She yawned, though the adrenaline was still running too high for her to feel the full impact of a sleepless night.
Apparently Josh understood that having too many people present following delivery could upset the mare, because he retreated without being asked. But it wasn’t without a last, admiring look at the new arrival. She couldn’t blame him. Whatever faults he might have, he loved horses, and the new colt looked promising, even as a newborn.
Kelly was proud of Fiona Chance. Though it was the mare’s first foal and she’d had a rough time with the birth, she was quickly enchanted with her new baby.
“I never get tired of it,” Grant murmured an hour later, grinning ear to ear. They’d moved the new family to a clean stall and Kelly hoped it would be warm enough later in the morning for them to go into a secluded paddock.
“Me, either.”
“Do you have a name for the little guy?” Grant asked.
“Black Galaxy.”
“Nice. That fellow who helped, is he a new ranch hand? He seems to know his business.”
Kelly’s breath caught. “Sorry, I should have made proper introductions. Mr. McKeon is a Canadian friend of my father’s. He plans to compete at the Shelton Rodeo Daze and is staying in the old bunkhouse.”
Grant’s eyes turned knowing. “One of Harry’s rodeo friends? You won’t enjoy having someone like that at Kindred Ranch.”
“You don’t have to tell me. He’ll need to train with Harry’s horses, because he isn’t doing it with mine. And you know we don’t allow bull or bronco training at the ranch any longer.”
Some time ago, Kelly had confided in Grant how she felt about her father’s obsession with rodeos and how it could affect Casey and Marc. She regretted her openness with Grant, though not because she didn’t trust him. He’d assumed it was based on a growing warmth between them, when she’d simply been blowing off steam.
She really didn’t have anyone else to talk to about certain things. Rodeos were a sensitive subject in the family, one best left alone. The elder Flannigans loved their son-in-law, but they’d also seen what his obsession had done to their daughter. As for Kathleen? She didn’t want to discuss it, period. If she spoke about rodeos with her husband, it was mostly behind closed doors, where no one else could hear.
Well, recently Harry had declared to the family that he wasn’t going to be gone as much, but Kelly didn’t believe it.
Grant straightened. “I’ve checked and everything looks good. Fiona Chance’s colostrum seems all right and she’s letting down enough for the foal. Do you want me to take a look at Gizmo’s leg before I leave?”
Gizmo was the stray dog Kelly had found in Helena two years earlier. He was pure mutt—part German shepherd, part golden retriever and part who knew what—and he possessed the instincts of a champion cattle dog. But he’d cut his leg recently and was still healing. He was confined to the house while he recovered.
“Thanks, Grant, but I think he’s fine. We’re keeping him quiet, like you said to do, and he’s still wearing the cone. He doesn’t fight it as much as I expected.”
“You should be able to stop using the cone now, unless he fusses at his bandages. I’ll come back later and check on Fiona Chance and the baby, but I don’t have any concerns.”
“Great. Will you be able to go home and get some rest?”
“Hey, I slept Sunday night. I should be fine for the rest of the week.”
She was smiling as he left. Normally she would have walked him to his truck, but she wanted to keep watch on Fiona Chance and the new baby for a while longer.
A few minutes later Kelly heard a faint sound behind her and turned to see Josh.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “They’re both asleep.”
* * *
JOSH STEPPED NEXT to Kelly and looked into the stall.
The colt’s black coat had dried and he lay nestled in the straw, a picture of tired contentment. Fiona Chance’s fine lines were even more apparent now that she was no longer carrying the large foal, and his admiration grew.
He was developing a horse breeding program at McKeon’s Choice, but if these two were anything to go by, Kelly had him beat, six ways to Sunday.
Maybe it would improve if you were home more often, chided his ego.
Josh pushed the thought away; it was too reminiscent of Kelly’s indictment of his rodeo schedule. He was still at the top of his game in competition. The money was great and he was receiving offers to appear in ads and commercials for various products and services. So far he’d just appeared gratis in a few public service spots, but he was weighing his options.
As for McKeon’s Choice Ranch?
His father made sound decisions for the spread, based on the long years he’d worked for other ranchers. But his strengths were in cattle, not horses. Josh disliked stepping on Benjamin’s toes, so while he made suggestions, he didn’t push too hard. Someday he’d have to find the way to strike a balance, such as leaving management of the cattle side of McKeon’s Choice to his dad and handling the horse breeding aspect of the ranch himself.
He glanced toward the front of the barn. The doors were closed to keep the warmth inside, but he could hear the muffled sounds of the ranch stirring to life. The foaling barn looked new. It was also the most distant building from the ranch center, which was a smart location because it afforded more quiet for a new mother and baby in the critical first hours after birth.
“When did you build this place?” he breathed.
“A couple of years ago,” she replied, in an equally soft voice. “I wore a short skirt and flirted with the bank manager so he’d give me a loan.”
Josh choked back a laugh; Kelly was too forthright to flirt her way into a bank loan. “Tell me another whopper.”
“His son and I were engaged in the second grade, but Clay broke my heart by wooing two other girls at the same time. Mr. Carson agreed I was owed reparation.”
“What’s the real reason?”
“Kindred Ranch is excellent collateral and I promised to pay the money back. People know each other in Shelton. They know whether you’re good at what you do and how hard you work and if your family is reliable. The Flannigans have been here for over a hundred and forty years. So he trusted me.”
That Josh believed, though he had limited experience at belonging to a tight-knit community. His father had been restless, moving around, always trying to get better-paying jobs with more responsibility. Even as a child Josh had wondered if staying put and working into a foreman’s position would have been best. Yet all that traveling had provided opportunities to meet various rodeo legends. They’d taken an interest and worked with Josh from a young age, so it had benefited him, in one way.
“Clay and I were engaged, with a glass diamond ring and everything,” Kelly continued. “He also broke my heart. Sort of. It doesn’t take much to break your heart at that age. I suppose it teaches perspective for the future.”
Josh didn’t ask if he’d broken her heart. Once he would have sworn she was in love with him, but she’d quickly pushed him out of her life. So it was possible she could have found someone else right away. Grant Latham, for example. He seemed fond of Kelly and might be the twins’ father. The veterinarian was tall, even taller than Josh himself, with dark hair and eyes. He was also local, with a career that kept him in one place. She’d appreciate that.
But if so, why hadn’t they gotten married?
Over the hours Fiona Chance had been in labor, Josh had seen an easy comfort between Kelly and the vet. Obviously their friendship went back a while. They’d practically read each other’s minds while caring for the distressed mare, though that wasn’t unusual—anybody experienced at helping birth a foal could anticipate what needed to be done.
Josh cleared his throat. Speculation was useless without facts. “What does Clay the Heartbreaker do now?”
“He lives in Kalispell and owns an outdoor adventure-type company, taking tourists into the backcountry around Glacier National Park. They also host white-river rafting trips and that sort of thing.”
“Ah.”
Fiona Chance woke and nuzzled her baby. Josh rested his arms on the stall door and watched the colt lurch to his feet and begin nursing, its tail swishing. The silence between him and Kelly was almost companionable, but he wasn’t fooled. She’d shown too much antagonism the previous day to think she was at ease with his presence now.
Finally she straightened and gestured to the barn door. They walked out together and she gave him a stiff smile.
“Thanks for the help with Fiona Chance.”
“You would have managed without it.”
“Grant is a great veterinarian. He could have chosen a more lucrative city practice, but he prefers doctoring cows and horses, with cats and dogs and other pets on the side. It isn’t easy getting medical personnel to settle down in such an isolated area.” An odd expression flickered in Kelly’s face. “Luckily, Dr. Wycoff’s daughter is doing a residency in family medicine and plans to join her father’s practice when she finishes, so we should be okay for a while.”
Josh understood the concern, though his ranch wasn’t as remote as Shelton. Out of necessity, ranchers became proficient at dealing with a variety of animal and human problems. Kelly probably could have assisted Fiona Chance in delivering her colt without the vet, but considering the value of the mare and foal, she’d been wise to call for assistance.
“Go eat breakfast,” she said briskly. “Then you should get some sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I have a full day’s work ahead. I’m going to change my clothes, check on the boys and get busy.”
He couldn’t sleep while she was working. “I’ll help.”
“Nonsense. You’re a guest. I’m sure Harry is still in bed, but he said that you’re free to use his horses. They’re in the small gray barn.” She pointed across the compound. “You’ll find plenty of tack in there if you want to go for a ride. Later you can talk to him about a tour of the ranch.”
“If I work with you, I won’t need a tour.”
“I prefer working alone,” Kelly returned in a tone that didn’t brook disagreement. “But if you want something to do, you can let Harry’s horses into the corral.”
She hurried to the house without another word and Josh fought renewed irritation. He’d met hundreds of ranchers and cowhands over the years and admired their strong, independent natures, but Kelly was taking it to an unnecessary extreme. He was experienced with cattle and horses. Why was she too stubborn to accept his help?
Josh went into the ranch house after a shower and shave. Inside Kelly was eating with the boys, still answering excited questions about Fiona Chance’s new foal. She promised they could see the colt before leaving for school. There was no evidence in her demeanor that she’d been up all night; she even double-checked their schoolwork after the meal and took them out to the foaling barn. The morning activities echoed a sense of normality. This was their regular pattern, not a performance put on for a stranger.
Josh instantly felt guilty.
The truth was, he was looking for grounds that Kelly might not be the best mother, in case he felt compelled to file a legal action for custody or to obtain visitation rights. It was just one of the reasons he was accepting the Flannigans’ hospitality under a false guise.
Assuming, of course, that he was the boys’ father, something he still wasn’t sure about.
* * *
BETSY HARTNER CHATTED with her customers at the small café, keeping their coffee mugs full and collecting her tips when they left. It was mostly men who frequented the Hot Diggity Dog Café in the early morning hours, and they appreciated someone with a quick smile, who made sure the coffee was hot and the cups were kept full.
Two weeks earlier, her aged van had broken down on the outskirts of Shelton. The repair shop had estimated she needed at least seven hundred dollars to fix the thing—which probably meant a thousand or more—so she’d gone looking for a job to earn the money, rather than draw it from her savings. Work could be scarce in small towns, but she’d learned in her travels that waitressing was usually a good bet. When she had saved enough for the repairs, she’d move on to her next adventure.
The door opened and Betsy saw the newcomer was Grant Latham, the local “vitinery,” as the old-timers called him. He was good-looking, but according to gossip in the café, he was batty over a lady rancher who lived southwest of town.
“Hi, Grant,” she said, automatically pouring him a mug of coffee as he slid into one of the booths. “Have an early call?”
He shrugged and gulped the contents of the steaming mug.
Betsy filled it again. “The breakfast special?” she asked.
Grant nodded and she marked it on his ticket. She’d already learned he wasn’t the talkative sort, at least in the morning, so she simply topped his coffee again and went to give the order to Leonard in the kitchen. Leonard was a culinary whiz who could turn an ordinary egg into a masterpiece. Today he was whipping up omelets, filled with bacon, mushrooms, onions and pools of melted cheese. A mountain of toast and home-fry potatoes accompanied the omelet. He made his own bread and the fragrance while it baked routinely drew diners into the café. Betsy hoped to learn more about his baking genius before she left Shelton.
Leonard sent a practiced glance around the dining area. “I see Dr. Latham is here again. That’s five times in the last week. He must like you,” he said in a low tone.
Betsy rolled her eyes. “He likes your cooking. I doubt he’s noticed that someone new is pouring his coffee.”
“Fine. Just don’t quit to get married. That’s what all my waitresses do,” Leonard grumbled.
“No need to worry about me and marriage,” she said, deciding not to remind him that she didn’t expect to stay for long, regardless. She never took a job without being up-front about her plans. “Besides, I hear Dr. Latham is interested in a rancher.”
“Yeah, Kelly Beaumont. She’s part of the Flannigan clan. The Flannigan women can cook real good, so they don’t eat here. Except Harry Beaumont. He’s married to Kathleen Flannigan. Harry sneaks by for food the doc doesn’t want him having.”
Betsy grinned. Leonard knew all the doings of his small town, despite the long hours required to run a restaurant. But she’d also heard he had a long-standing rivalry with Susannah Flannigan over the annual chili cook-off, held the week of the rodeo, so he likely took special note of their comings and goings.
She was lucky her old van had broken down where it had. The Shelton Rodeo Daze sounded fun and would be a new experience, at least. Perhaps the magazine she freelanced for would be interested in one or more articles, not that it mattered if they weren’t.
Her goal was to see as much of the world as possible. No way was she going to be like her father, who’d dreamed of visiting places like the Grand Canyon, Mount Fujiyama and the Roman Colosseum, only to die in an industrial accident at thirty-six. In the end, Dad had never gone much of anywhere, too busy with his responsibilities as a single father to ever have the chance. She just wished he could have done some exploring before she came along.
Betsy did a quick run around the tables, filling coffee mugs and getting extra salsa and ketchup for the customers who poured the stuff on everything. Grant Latham seemed discouraged as his gaze became riveted on the street outside. Though she tried to squelch her curiosity, she couldn’t resist looking and saw a pickup truck approaching. As it passed, she glimpsed a redheaded woman behind the wheel.
Hmm.
Could that be Kelly Beaumont?
Leonard was putting the final touches to Dr. Latham’s breakfast, so Betsy put six slices of bread in the toaster and was buttering the toast when he put the order on the high counter.
“Here you go,” she said, sliding the platter in front of Grant, along with the plate of toast. “Anything else?”
“No, I’m fine.”
A hint of feminine ego wanted him to focus on her instead of the food, but she resisted doing anything about it. She didn’t date much. Socializing could get complicated when she wasn’t planning to stick around.
* * *
AFTER BREAKFAST, JOSH returned to the bunkhouse, thinking about Kelly’s intense focus while Fiona Chance birthed her colt. She’d changed over the years. Where was the girl with the bright smile and merry laugh? Once Kelly had been sweetly romantic, delighted to receive a bunch of wildflowers, and happy to just hold hands and gaze at the stars on a blanket. Maybe that part of her was alive and well, but so far he’d seen mostly a serious rancher with suspicion in her eyes.
He stretched and headed for the small gray barn, which sounded as if it was dedicated to Harry’s needs.
Outside he saw heavy posts lying on their sides, with concrete clinging to one end; they’d obviously been pulled from the ground. A large barrel stood nearby, along with heavy springs attached on four sides. He had a bull-riding training barrel at McKeon’s Choice—it did a nice job of simulating the sensation of a wild bull or bronc ride. Harry must have done bull and bronco training on Kindred Ranch at some point, but someone had put an end to it.
Kelly?
Josh pushed the thought away. Inside he found the barn was divided into two sections, with stalls on one end and exercise equipment on the other. Inquisitive horses thrust their heads over the gates and looked at him, aware that he was a stranger. Josh went to each, getting acquainted. At length he opened the stall doors and led them out in turn. He didn’t think Kelly or Harry would have offered them as mounts or suggested he release them into the corral if they had behavioral issues, not without a warning, but he didn’t take anything for granted.
At the corral he automatically checked the water supply and forked hay into the feeding trough. The air was crisp, but the sun was rising in a cloudless sky and he suspected it would get warm as the day progressed. Still, the weather changed quickly this time of year—pleasant days could be followed by snowy nights.
The crunch of footsteps made him turn around and he saw Harry approaching.
“Morning,” Josh called.
“Hey, Josh. What do you think of my horses?”
“They look good.” It was honest. They weren’t in Lightfoot’s class, but they were amiable and appeared sound. “Which is your favorite?”
“That one,” Harry said, pointing to a sorrel quarter horse on the far side of the corral. “Come here, Woody,” he called.
Woody left the tuft of spring grass he’d found and trotted over to Harry at the fence. He was a compact, muscular animal with powerful hindquarters, well suited to his master’s wiry body.
“He’s a fine horse. You know, I’ve been thinking Lightfoot is big for a woman Kelly’s size,” Josh murmured, only to kick himself for bringing her up.
“She can handle him. My daughter can handle any animal.” Harry’s declaration was proud, yet he also seemed wistful.
“It’s just that I would have expected her to choose a stock horse for working the ranch.”
Harry gave him an odd look. “Appaloosas are Kelly’s favorite, but she also breeds American quarter horses. Woody is the first foal where she matched dam and sire. I wasn’t sure about it since the sire was old and broken down. She picked up Blue Thunder at an auction for practically nothing. Then it turned out he was registered and had been a fine stock horse in his day. Blue is too old for breeding now and lives over at the Gillespie spread. It isn’t practical, but Kelly won’t get rid of the old ones. Says they worked hard and deserve a peaceful last road.”
Josh agreed. It wasn’t practical—ranchers needed a healthy dose of practicality—but giving a home to retired horses fit the softhearted girl he’d once known. And since Kelly was doing well with Kindred Ranch, she couldn’t be letting sentimentality get too much in the way.
“I noticed you used to have specific training equipment for bull riding,” he commented, wanting to direct the conversation away from Kelly.
Harry looked uncomfortable. “We took the barrel and posts out a couple of years ago. Have you looked at my other equipment?” Plainly he didn’t want to discuss the training barrel any further.
Josh shook his head. “Not yet.”
“You’re welcome to use it whenever you like, along with the horses. Woody included.”
“I couldn’t take your favorite mount.”
“Sure you can,” Harry urged. “He could use a good ride. I got seized up with arthritis over the winter, so I haven’t taken them out as much as they need. The Kindred Ranch cowhands work them some of the time, but more would be best.”
“Sorry about the arthritis.”
Harry made a face. “The cost of getting old.”
Josh wondered. Harry was around fifty, which wasn’t old in the modern world. Yet more than most men or women his age, he’d gotten banged up over the years.
As with any sport, some athletes seemed more prone to injury than others, and Harry was one of them. There was a price to pay for the accumulated damage, so maybe it was understandable that Kelly worried about Casey and Marc competing.
He didn’t know. She was making him think about things he’d never wanted to consider.