When single dad Micah Torrance needs help with his young daughter, he hires beautiful Karina Carter to be her nanny. But the gruff rancher has his work cut out for him if he’s going to avoid falling in love forever.
Read on for a sneak preview of WYOMING LEGEND, the next book in the Wyoming Men series from New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer
CHAPTER ONE
She heard the cheers of the crowd, as if they were close by. Lights flashing from dozens of cameras in the spectator stands. Music, beautiful music. The sound of her skates on the ice made smooth by the Zamboni. The perfect lifts and tosses by her partner as they soared toward the gold medal in the world championships. The reviewing stand. The medal looped around her neck, the exultation as she faced the news media and shared her struggles and tragedies that had led her and her partner to the medal. Then, so soon, the new tragedy that had put her in the hospital just days before they were to start training new programs for the national championships, the next world competition, and then, if their luck held, the Olympic Games. The hope of that Olympic gold medal in pairs figure skating, however, was already fading in the distance. Her hopes and dreams, crushed as the surgeon labored to reduce the damage in her ankle. Gone. All gone. Hopes and dreams of medals, lost; like the dream as she awoke in her own bed, in her lonely apartment.
Karina Carter went to the kitchen to make coffee. It still felt awkward to walk without the cast and supporting boot she’d sported for five months. She had sports therapy for the break, which was healing. But her partner, Paul Maurice, was forced to practice with another skater, one not in her class. If the woman performed well, he would break up his partnership with Karina—with her permission, of course—and prepare for the World Figure Skating Championships the following month. Sadly, that would mean that both he and Karina would sacrifice the Envelope—the stipend awarded by the United States Figure Skating Association to high level contenders. Paul and Karina had been in Tier 1, the highest level of all. But if Paul officially changed partners, which he hadn’t done yet, both he and Karina would lose their financial help.
With that in mind, Karina was looking at job possibilities. Her expenses would be much less since she was out of competition, perhaps forever. She had a career decision to make and it was going to be a hard one. Paul understood. He’d always supported her, whatever she did. She hoped that his new training partner worked out, so that he could compete again in the figure skating events. If he worked hard, he and his partner would work their way through sectionals and nationals to the Olympics, almost a year away. But that no longer concerned Karina. She’d given up. Her doctor had convinced her that it was madness to get back on the ice. That suited her, because she was afraid to try to skate again. The fall had been nightmarish.
There was a job interview later today, in Catelow, Wyoming, north of Jackson Hole and the small town where she’d been born. She’d lived with Paul’s family just after the tragedy that had cost her parents their lives. Her parents had been gone for three years now. They’d died, ironically, in a plane crash on their way home from watching their daughter compete in the last Olympic games. That tragedy had crushed her spirit. She and her partner had worked so hard. They’d won the nationals, and had a gold in world competition, but they’d placed only eighth in Olympics pairs figure skating.
They hadn’t given up. That gold medal in world competition had fired them up, made them hungry for the events that would lead them back again to the Olympics. But the accident, in training of all things, had robbed Karina of any hope that she might participate again. Paul felt guilty because he’d thrown her so high in one of their signature moves; but she’d landed badly. It had been her fault more than his.
Their new coach had comforted her. She needed several months to recuperate, after the surgery to repair her ankle. She’d be back. She needed to keep up with the physical therapy, see her sports doctor regularly, and then get back on the ice. She could do it, even if it took a whole year, which it might. The coach, an accomplished skater himself, insisted that one accident wouldn’t rob Karina of her chance at Olympic gold. After all, wasn’t she named for two famous figure skaters? Her name, Karina, was a combination of Katarina, for Olympic gold medalist Katarina Witt, and Irina, for Irina Rodnina, who’d won a record total of ten Olympic gold medals in her career. Both skaters were heroines of Karina’s late mother.
Karina had smiled wanly at the coach’s optimistic outlook and said that she’d do her best. But at night came the fear, eating up her self-confidence. What if there was a physical reason that her ankle broke? After all, the same leg had suffered a compound fracture in the plane crash that had killed her parents. What if it happened again, and crippled her for life? Those beautiful high jumps, the Salchows, the Lutzes, the triples, sailing high in the air and spinning—they looked so pretty to people in the audience, but they were the most dangerous part of figure skating. Many skaters had incurred life-changing injuries, some of them head injuries that meant they could never skate again. It was daunting. Although Karina was used to bruises and contusions—every skater fell now and again—the injury to the same leg was worrying.
She’d lost her confidence during the months of her recovery. She was afraid to even go on the ice again. The fear kept her from trying. She’d been doing physical rehab for five months, six months the following week, so that she’d be able to walk again, at least. She held out no hope that she might skate once more. She wouldn’t heal in time for the world championships next month, at any rate. She’d need months more to get back into training and regain the ground she’d lost.
Nationals would be held in January of the following year, just before the Olympics in Pyongyang, but she was sure that she’d never be involved in them ever again, or the competitions that added to the chances of being chosen for the Olympic games. Paul was trying out a new partner. Karina was afraid to try to skate again. It was so depressing.
Her finances were iffy and she needed this job she was applying for, to tide her over until she could decide what to do with the rest of her life. Since she and Paul would lose the envelope, which was based on scores a skater earned and didn’t apply to new teams just starting, money was going to be a problem. She might go back to college. She’d done three years on her undergraduate degree in history. She had good grades and she wasn’t afraid of hard work. There were scholarships available and she knew how to apply for them. She might graduate and, with a bachelor’s degree, teach as an adjunct at a college. Sure. She might fly to Mars…
It was a sad set of choices. She and Paul Maurice had been partners since they were ten years old. It wasn’t a romantic partnership, because he was like a brother to her. They were best friends and still kept in touch. Karina was godmother to the twin boys he had with Helga, another figure skater whom he’d met during the world competition five years ago. Karina loved the twins. She envied Paul and Helga their happy marriage and their children. But she was sure that it wasn’t for her, that kind of commitment. Not yet, anyway.
Poor Paul. He’d offered to stay out of competition, but Karina had insisted he take another partner. She wasn’t sure that she’d ever skate again, or want to. In order to stay in competition, he’d have to have a new partner. Karina would sit out until her injury healed; or possibly, forever. A broken ankle was dangerous if it didn’t heal completely. Her doctor wanted her out for six months to a year, In fact, he said flatly, she should give up skating professionally and find a less dangerous occupation. Her leg already had minor joint issues because of the breaks three years ago. The broken ankle would probably ensure some further pain in that joint. Since it was her main landing leg that was affected, continuing in competition could be deadly, he added.
His attitude had depressed her even more than the injury. Now, she wasn’t certain that she could ever find the nerve to put on skates again. Incredibly, except for bruises and pulled muscles, she hadn’t had a serious accident in all the years she’d been on the ice. And she’d skated since she was three years old. Her accident-free record was a source of amusement to other skaters, most of whom had been sidelined for weeks and months on end due to infrequent mishaps on the ice.
Locals around Jackson Hole called her the Wyoming Legend, after she and Paul won the gold medal in the world championships the year before. That was great. It was the biggest rush of her life. But she’d lost her chance to be a true legend in figure skating. The thought of Olympic gold haunted her, even now, even with the fear of the ice.
Once, she’d loved going to practice. Just putting on her skates, lacing them up, feeling the ice under her sharp blades was exciting. But now, she was just a normal woman of twenty-three, using her real name, Karina Miranda Carter; not the stage name of Miranda Tanner, under which she’d skated for so long. It was her mother’s maiden name, Tanner, and her own middle name. It gave her some anonymity which her mother, a former Olympic gold medalist in women’s figure skating, said that she might need one day when she started winning medals. Famous athletes lived in a goldfish bowl. That was true. She thought of how her mother had encouraged her, delighted in even that eighth place in the Olympics three years ago. Her mother had injuries over the years. She’d always gotten right back onto the ice. Karina wasn’t that confident.
Her gold medal notwithstanding, Karina was a nobody in Catelow, Wyoming, where she hoped to get the job she’d applied for, as a live-in babysitter for a wealthy, widowed rancher’s young daughter. She loved children. She’d never thought about having them, because skating had been her whole life. She and her partner spent every day on the ice, practicing for hours on end, perfecting their technique with the German trainer who’d pushed them and coaxed them into fantasy routines. It was one of those that had gotten them the gold pairs medal at the world. It had been a milestone in their lives, the realization of a dream. But with her accident, the dreams of Olympic gold were folded up and put away, like a special garment with sentimental value, treasured but never to be worn again.
She couldn’t look back. She had to forge ahead. She would heal completely, her doctor said. It was just a matter of doing the daily exercises. But whether or not she would be able to skate again at her former level was suppositious. There had been major damage. At the very least, she was certain that the ankle would require support if she ever put on skates again. She wasn’t sure that she even wanted to try. She remembered with horror the bad landing on the ice, during practice of all things, that had announced itself with a crunching sound. She fell and only then discovered that she was unable to put weight on the ankle. It was her landing foot, which made it all the more tragic and frightening. She thought that the ankle would never be as strong as before, even with her endless physical therapy. The doctor had insinuated as much. A broken mirror was never going to be whole. She was damaged goods. Useless.
She could, however, take care of one small child. She hoped. She’d done babysitting in high school. She’d taken care of Paul and Helga’s twins when they were on the road in competition. She knew CPR and how to handle small emergencies. She’d even done tutoring at a local grammar school as part of her college class work. Surely she could cope.
Besides all that, it was the only job going at the moment. It was February and she had no source of income, with her skating ability lost. She’d been so depressed that she told her trainer she wasn’t going back into competition. So with that decided, until she could figure out what to do next, she had to get a job, and this one paid well. All she had to do was convince the rancher, a man by the name of Torrance, that she was capable and responsible so that he’d hire her. The ad had given very little information, except that the applicant should be good with children and willing to live on a ranch. It hadn’t even provided the first name of the rancher.
Karina had grown up on a small ranch outside Jackson Hole, Wyoming. She loved animals. So the isolation of the ranch wouldn’t be a problem to her. In fact, she liked her own company. She didn’t mix well with most people, and she was nervous around men. Any men. It was what kept her single.
Her partner, Paul, had been only a friend all their lives, and she had no social life to speak of. Easy relationships had never appealed to her. Raised by religious parents, she took innocence seriously. Not for her were the one-nighters that some of her colleagues enjoyed. If she ever settled down, she wanted marriage or nothing.
But marriage, commitment, had been the last things on her mind. She was obsessed with skating. She spent all her free time at the rink. Her grades never suffered, but she was focused on the future. Her friends thought she was crazy. It was so hard to get a place in any competition in skating. Not only was it physically difficult, but there were other pitfalls, the least of which was the internal politics of skating itself. Judges could be biased. Other skaters could be brutal. It wasn’t a sport for the weak of spirit.
But Karina’s spirit was strong, as her mother’s had been. She worked her way up, through divisional championships, all the way to nationals. From the time she and Paul were kids, they’d focused on pairs figure skating, far more dangerous than ice dancing. Karina had loved the speed, the recklessness, even the risk. Now, here she was, washed up at twenty-three, with no future on the ice, and her hopes of employment based on the acceptance of a nine-year-old girl who might not even like her. Worse, it was the only job offering she might even remotely be able to handle. Skating had been her life. She didn’t have any other skills.
Her little white sports car was several years old, purchased when she’d been earning a good living on the ice with her sponsors and public appearances that she and Paul made at various venues sanctioned by the United States Figure Skating Association. It was dutifully maintained, although she’d hit a tree with it recently and it had a dent on the front fender. She couldn’t afford body work, but a mechanic had said it was safe to drive. So she drove it through the snow to the ranch, using the onboard navigation system to get her to her destination.
There was a guard on the front gate. That was surprising. She didn’t understand why a ranch would need one. He came out of a small block building and smiled as he asked what she wanted.
“I’m applying for this job,” she said and smiled back. Her pale gray eyes twinkled as she handed him the newspaper with the ad circled. “I phoned last night, and Mr. Torrance’s foreman said that he’d expect me today by two. It’s a long drive from Jackson Hole,” she added with a laugh.
“I’ll say, considering the snow,” he replied. “May I see some identification? Sorry, but it’s my job if I don’t ask.”
This Mr. Torrance must be some taskmaster, she thought privately, but she handed him her driver’s license.
“Okay, that matches what I’ve got down here.” He indicated a cell phone. “Mr. Torrance is expecting you. Main house is straight down this road about two miles. Keep to the main road, don’t turn off on any of the side roads. You can park in front of the house, anywhere you like.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m Ted,” he said.
She smiled. “I’m Karina.”
“Nice to meet you. I hope you get the job.”
“Thanks. Me, too.” She hesitated before she powered the window up. “Are there a lot of candidates?” she wondered.
He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “One lady came up and when she saw how isolated the ranch was, she turned around and went home. Not much to do around here. They draw in the sidewalks at six every day.”
She laughed. “It’s my kind of place,” she said. “I was born down in High Meadow, southeast of Jackson Hole. Not much to do there, either. I like the country. I never was much of a city girl,” she added, not quite truthfully.
He laughed, too. “I know what you mean. I’d wither and die in a city. Go right in, Miss.”
He powered the metal gate open and she drove through with a wave.
* * *
There were fenced pastures everywhere, and they were maintained well. She saw herds of red cattle all along the way, along with outbuildings, lean-to buildings that would give them shelter in the harsh winter weather.
Red Angus, unless she missed her guess. She’d read about the various cattle breeds that thrived in a Wyoming winter. Black and Red Angus were popular in this part of the country. She’d only been around cattle in a limited way. Her parents had a small ranch when she was a child. She’d grown up with her father’s farm animals, including a small herd of Black Baldies: Herefords mixed with black Angus, that were beef cattle. She’d helped feed and water them, year round, as part of her chores. There had been dogs and cats and ducks as well. It had been a lovely childhood, despite the misery of school. She’d never mixed well with the other students. Even then, ice skating had been her life. She’d spent hours at the local rink every day, practicing, while her mother tutored her. Her mother had been an Olympic ice skating champion, an Olympic gold medalist, and she’d trained her daughter well. Karina had always loved the sport. She’d thumbed through her mother’s photo album on a daily basis, delighted at the medals and acclamation her mother had claimed in the sport and the photos of her mother together with many legends of ice skating whom she’d known as friends.
She wanted very badly to be part of that world. She was willing to do whatever it took. But that precluded any social life. Other students laughed at her dedication, at her naiveté. She wasn’t pretty, but she had a lovely figure. Boys wanted to date her, but she was wary of them. She only had one real boyfriend all the way through school, and he dated her only because his girl had thrown him over. Karina was his comfort. She liked him very much, but she hadn’t felt anything for him physically. She wondered sometimes if there was something wrong with her. She’d never felt those passionate urges she read about in her novels. There was a reason that she never really tried to have a relationship. But it left a bad taste in her mouth even to remember it. She’d pushed it to the back of her mind. She didn’t really want a boyfriend. Her whole life was skating.
As she approached the ranch, she noted that the ranch house was a huge Victorian mansion, with gingerbread woodwork and black accents. It, like the fences, was quite well kept. It sat on what must have been two acres of level terrain with a long paved driveway, automatic gates, and trees and shrubs placed decoratively around the open spaces. The front yard adjoining the house itself was paved as well. The front porch had a swing and chairs everywhere. There were many outbuildings. It looked more like a modern complex than a ranch, and it was obvious that the owner was rolling in cash. Karina had seen properties like this listed online, and they sold for millions of dollars. A traditional small cattle ranch, it was not.
There was a big black-faced German Shepherd sitting on the wide front porch when she parked next to it. She hesitated about getting out. She knew that dogs, especially guard dogs, could be ferocious if a stranger approached them.
A small girl came out onto the porch and petted the Shepherd. He laid his head against her. She grinned and motioned for Karina to come out.
Karina slid her purse strap onto her shoulder and got out slowly. “Is he friendly?” she asked.
“Sure! He only attacks if Daddy says a word in German,” she assured the newcomer. “Are you the lady who’s going to take care of me?” she added.
“I hope so,” Karina replied gently.
The little girl was petit, with long jet black hair in a ponytail, and pale blue eyes in a rounded, pretty face. “I’m Janey,” she said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Karina,” she replied, smiling.
“It’s nice to meet you. My daddy had to go down to the barn. One of the bulls stepped on Billy Joe Smith.”
Karina raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Billy Joe?”
She laughed. “He’s from Georgia. He says lots of men have two first names down there. He’s nice. He raises our German Shepherds. They’re famous!”
“That one is very handsome,” Karina said, eyeing the dog.
“He’s Dietrich,” Janey replied. “Go say hello, Dietrich!”
The dog ambled over to Karina and sniffed her. She put out a hand to let him smell her, and when he looked up, she ruffled the fur on his neck. “Hello, handsome,” she said softly. “You’re a gorgeous boy!”
He laid his head against her and drank in the affection.
“You like dogs, don’t you?” Janey asked.
“I love them. We had a Siberian Husky when I was little. He was named Mukluk and he was an escape artist. He was always getting away. Dad spent so much time hunting him,” she laughed.
“I like Huskies, but we have lots of cats,” Janey sighed, “so we can’t have Huskies. Daddy says that a lot of them are dangerous to little animals.”
“Mukluk certainly was,” Karina said with a smile. “We had to keep our cat in a room of his own, when Mukluk came inside. Mukluk loved to chase him.”
“Dietrich just licks our cats,” Janey chuckled.
“He’s a sweetheart.”
The sound of an engine diverted them. A big black truck drove up and parked next to Karina’s car. A man got out. A big man, with a light olive complexion and jet black hair under a wide-brimmed Stetson, husky and somber, with dark brown eyes and an attitude that stuck out a mile. He was wearing a fringed leather jacket with black beadwork that emphasized wide shoulders on a body like a wrestler. He glared at Karina.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
She was taken aback by the sudden, sharp words.
“She’s Karina,” the little girl said, smiling and unafraid of the big man and his bad attitude. “She’s going to be my companion.”
The big man moved a step closer. Karina moved a step back. He was intimidating. “I’m Karina. Karina Carter.” She put out an unsteady hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr.,” she searched her memory, addled by his confrontational approach, “Mr. Torrance.”
He cocked his head and deep brown eyes narrowed as he surveyed her. Light blonde hair that was probably very long, pinned up in a bun on the back of her head. Pale gray eyes. Medium height, slight build, comfortable clothing that looked as if it came from a high-ticket store, sturdy shoes, one foot in a support boot. She was leaning on a cane.
“How can you take care of a child if you can’t even walk?” he asked shortly.
“Sir, your daughter hardly looks as if she’d run from anything, even me,” she replied with faint humor.
He made a sound, deep in his throat. “No. She doesn’t run from much.” His eyes narrowed, glittery. “Why do you want this job?”
“Because I’m about to be broke,” she said honestly.
A faint smile touched chiseled, very masculine lips. “What do you think, Janey?” he asked the child.
Janey smiled. “I like her,” she said simply.
He hesitated, only for a moment. “I run background checks on anyone who comes to work here.” He raised his eyebrows when she looked faintly concerned. “Only surface stuff. I don’t care if you cheated on a math test in sixth grade,” he added, insinuating that the probe wouldn’t dig deep. It relieved her. She didn’t want him to know what she’d been. She’d lost her whole life.
“I never cheated on a test,” she said softly.
“Why am I not surprised?” he mused. “You’ll live in,” he added. He stated a figure that raised both eyebrows. She’d been used to traveling first class while she and Paul were at the top of the tree in pairs figure skating. But that was a princely salary.
“Isn’t that too much, just for babysitting?” she asked, trying to be fair.
“She’s a handful,” he replied, surprised by the would-be employee’s comment. Nobody had ever said he overpaid his people.
“Yes, I am,” Janey said.
“She’s obsessed with ice skating, too,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I can’t cure her, so you’ll be required to go to the rink with her every day after school.”
“I want to be famous one day,” Janey said simply and grinned. “He says I can get a coach this fall, if I practice and prove I’m committed.” She frowned. “Committed?” she asked her father.
“Sure. Committed. What you weren’t when you said you had to have piano lessons and you stopped after two months,” he replied.
Janey sighed. “It was too much time indoors,” she said. “I like being outside.”
Karina smiled. “I took piano for six years,” she said. “I loved it, but I…” She started to say, I loved skating more. But she wasn’t saying that. “I sort of grew away from it,” she said finally.
In the back of her mind, she hoped the child didn’t follow the Olympics. But she and Paul had only been in Olympic competition once, three years ago, and the world championship they’d won was almost a year ago. Besides, they shied away from a lot of publicity. They were private people, in a very public sport. And Karina was known professionally as Miranda Tanner. It would be all right. She hoped.
“She never misses ice skating competitions on TV,” her father said. “A whole two months of it,” he muttered at his daughter, who grinned. Karina relaxed. The girl was just starting, not a long-time fan. It was unlikely that she’d even recognize Karina as she was now.
“And now we have ice skating at the local rink daily. A woman who used to be an Olympic trainer bought it and put it in good repair. There’s a skating club that I enrolled her in. But I don’t have time to take her back and forth, and I don’t trust any man to do it,” he emphasized in a curious way. “So that’s going to be your job from now on.”
Her heart skipped, not only at the thought of an Olympic trainer who might recognize her, but what he’d said about driving Janey being her job now. “You mean, I’m hired?”
“You’re hired. Can you start right now, or do you need time to pack at your home?”
“It’s an apartment down in Jackson Hole,” she said. “I don’t have anything with me…”
“Go home and get it. Come inside for a minute first,” he added, noting her worried expression.
Janey danced up to her, with Dietrich still at her side. Her eyes were bright. “We’ll have so much fun!” she said. “Do you like skating?”
“I haven’t done much of it lately,” Karina said. That wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t.
Janey looked at the support boot on her left foot and grimaced. “Gosh, I guess not. But you’ll get better, right?”
“I’ll get better,” she said softly, and with a smile.
“How did that happen?” Torrance asked.
“I slipped on some wet leaves and fell down a bank,” she lied, not meeting his eyes. “The doctor said it would take about six months to heal completely, and it will be six months next week. I have exercises that I must do daily, so that it doesn’t lose function.”
“Can you skate now?” he asked, going into an adjoining room.
She swallowed, hard. “Theoretically,” she prevaricated. Surely she could just watch Janey from the stands. She didn’t want to put skates on ever again.
He came back with a checkbook. “I’m giving you an advance. You’ll need gas money at the least.” He wrote out a check and handed it to her.
She was shocked at the amount, but he didn’t comment.
“Don’t be long,” he added.
“I’ll need a few hours, that’s all,” she stammered.
“If you need someone to drive you, I’ll have one of the men do it,” he added, looking pointedly at her ankle.
“I can drive okay,” she said. “It’s my left foot that had the broken ankle.”
“All right. We’ll expect you back before dark,” he added.
“Why? Do you turn into a vampire after the sun sets?” she blurted out and then flushed because it sounded forward.
He suppressed a smile. “No, but these roads get treacherous after dark, and not just because of the snow. Wolves run in these woods,” he nodded toward the surrounding countryside. “We protect them, but they’re in packs and some aren’t people friendly.”
“I’ll be in a car. Not walking.”
“Cars break down,” he returned. “Yours would look right at home in a junkyard.”
“It’s a nice little car,” she shot back, exasperated. “How would you like it if you had a few years more on you, and they said you belonged in a people junkyard?”
His thick eyebrows levered up. “Cars aren’t pets.”
“Well, mine is,” she said haughtily. “I wash and wax it myself and I buy it things.”
“Is it a boy car, then?” he mused.
She shifted restlessly, putting her weight on her good leg. “Sort of.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Go get your stuff and come back.”
She smiled. “I’ll do that.” She looked at Janey with real affection. “And I won’t mind going with you to the ice rink.”
“Thanks! Skating is my whole life,” the child said with enthusiasm.
She reminded Karina of herself, when she was that age. How quickly the years had passed.
“Before dark,” Torrance emphasized. “In addition to wolves, we have deer, lots of them, and they run out in front of cars. My foreman hit one just last week and we had to replace the truck he was in. Tore the front end right out.”
She put her hand over her heart. “I shall return, either with my shield or on it,” she said solemnly.
He chuckled. “You read about the Spartans, do you?”
She smiled. “I love ancient history. I spend hours reading it, on my iPhone.”
“Me, too.”
As he spoke, his own phone rang. He pulled it out of the carrier on his wide leather belt. “What?” he asked curtly.
There was a pause. “Damn,” he muttered. He glanced at Karina. “Well, get going, then.”
“Yes, sir.” She winked at Janey, climbed into her car, and groaned when it backfired first thing. She just knew that Mr. Torrance was watching and laughing. It would only reinforce his bad opinion of her nice little car.
* * *
There was a rigid learning curve on the ranch. Torrance didn’t keep regular hours. He seemed to be a night owl as well. On her first night at the ranch, she heard him pacing at three in the morning. She wondered what kept him up. She heard heavy footsteps going past her door, down the staircase, and a rough voice along with an apologetic one.
It wasn’t until the next morning that she learned what had happened. A heifer, one of the first-time mothers, had gone into labor and Torrance had gone out with one of his cowboys to help deliver it with a calf pull.
“We had a milk cow whose calf was a breech birth,” she commented after Torrance detailed the activities of the night before at breakfast. “Dad and one of the cowboys managed to get him turned without hurting the cow. The vet was about forty miles away, so they had to work fast.”
“You lived on a ranch?” he asked.
She nodded. “It wasn’t a big one, but my father was fond of Red Angus. We had those, and several black baldies.”
He smiled. Black baldies. Beef cattle. “I’ll bet you named every one of them,” he said slyly.
She flushed. “Well, yes,” she confessed, noting Janey’s amusement. “I only did it a few times before I learned why the cattle trucks came and took them away. It was a hard lesson. Dad actually told me that they were going to other homes as pets.”
“Shame on him,” Torrance said quietly. “You do a child no favors by lying.”
“He loved me,” she said simply, and with a sad smile. “He and my mother sugar-coated everything when I was little. Mama said that the world wouldn’t cherish me, so they were going to, until I grew up.”
He frowned. “Do they still have the ranch?”
Her face tautened. “They died together in a plane crash, three years ago,” she said sadly. “I lost everything at once.”
“Damn.”
“They say air travel is safe, and I suppose it usually is,” she replied. “But I hate airplanes.”
“I love them,” he said. “I have two. I use one for herding cattle during roundup. The other is a twin-engine Cessna that I use for long flights.”
“Airplanes, on a ranch?” she asked, surprised.
He nodded as he finished the scrambled eggs and bacon the cook had brought in earlier. “This is a hell of a big ranch. I have oil interests as well. I do a lot of traveling, which is why you’re here.”
“Lindy offered to keep me,” Janey piped in. She made a face. “I said bad things and got my TV privileges taken away.”
“Lindy isn’t used to kids,” he said, glowering at his daughter. “But you’d better get used to her. She’s going to be around for a long time.”
Janey just sighed.
Torrance noted Karina’s curiosity. “Lindy is my fianceé,” he told her. “You’ll meet her, in time.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
He didn’t spot any disappointment that he was committed, which relaxed his face. He didn’t know this woman. He hoped she hadn’t wanted the job because he was wealthy and she saw him as a mark. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.
“Lindy skated professionally,” he continued, missing Karina’s start of surprise. “She won a medal at district competition.”
“A bronze, and only because two of the contestants dropped out,” Janey muttered.
“Stop that,” Torrance muttered.
“Well, she keeps trying to tell me how to skate, and I don’t think what she says is right,” Janey argued. “I have all sorts of books on figure skating. Her jumps are wobbly because she kicks off with the wrong edge of the blade…”
“Nine, and you’re an expert,” her father laughed. “You listen to Lindy. She just wants you to be good on the ice.”
“Yes, sir,” Janey said, but with a mutinous look.
“You’ll be late. I hear an engine idling at the door. Billy Joe’s driving you this morning.”
“Oh, boy!” she exclaimed.
Torrance sighed. “She loves Billy Joe,” he explained. “He’s teaching her how to train dogs. As if learning to skate isn’t enough for her. And she’s found a YouTube channel that teaches Gaelic, so she’s fascinated with that as well.”
“Cimar a tha sibh,” Janey babbled, grinning. It sounded like chimera a HAH shiv to Janey.
“And what’s that?” her long-suffering parent asked.
“Hello,” Janey said brightly.
“Go to school,” he groaned.
“Aww, Daddy, don’t you want me to be smart?” she asked plaintively.
He got up and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, I do. But not too smart. Not yet.”
“I’ll take a stupid pill before I leave,” the child said pertly.
He chuckled, turning to Karina. “See what you’ll have to put up with?” he asked.
Karina was laughing. “Janey, you’re an absolute joy,” she said softly, and watched the child’s blue eyes light up.
“He says I’m a pest,” Janey pointed at her father.
“A very nice pest,” he amended.
She grinned and went to her room to get her book bag.
A burly man with thick black hair under a wide-brimmed hat, wearing a heavy coat and denim jeans and boots, stuck his head in the door. “Hey, Big Mike,” he called. “Is she coming or not?”
“She’s on her way,” Torrance said.
The man looked at Karina and smiled. “Who are you?”
“She’s the new babysitter, and hands off,” he told the man. “We’re keeping this one.”
The man made a face. “Spoilsport.” His pale eyes twinkled. “Want to learn how to train dogs?” he asked.
Torrance glowered. “That only works on obsessed nine-year-old girls,” he pointed out.
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” the newcomer chuckled.
“Hey, Billy Joe!” Janey called. “Here I am. See you after school, Daddy!” she added as she and the man went out into the falling snow.
Karina looked at the rancher with open curiosity. “Big Mike?” she wondered.
“Nickname,” he said, getting up. “My first name is Micah, and I’m large. Hence the nickname they stuck me with. I’ll see you later.”
“What do you want me to do while Janey’s at school?” she asked.
“Read a book. Learn French. Watch YouTube to see how you attract aliens and capture Bigfoot.”
“Oh.”
“We’re not rigid about schedules. Clocks have no place on a working ranch. Have a good day.”
“You, too,” she began, but he was already shouldering into his coat. He grabbed his hat and never looked back. All that, by the time she started the second word.
Don’t miss WYOMING LEGEND by Diana Palmer, available in October 2018 wherever Harlequin® books and ebooks are sold.
Copyright © 2018 by Diana Palmer