Marrying The Rancher

Home on the Ranch: Arizona—where love burns brightly under the desert sun!

The Arizona ranch was supposed to be their home—a place where Tandy Graham could start a new life with her young son. Instead, Tandy finds a community of hostile ranchers who expect her to fail. The only person they hate more? Her handsome new tenant, biologist Wyatt Hunt.

Tracking wildlife means Wyatt can never settle down. Still, he can’t stop himself from becoming more involved with life on the ranch, and with Tandy. As his feelings for her grow stronger, Wyatt knows he’s playing a dangerous game—one that ends with him choosing between the career he adores and the woman he loves.

His heated gaze never veered from her eyes...

“This isn’t smart,” Tandy murmured.

Wyatt continued to smile softly and pulled her onto his lap, where he kissed her again. A kiss that went deeper and lasted longer.

It lasted so long her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Once they broke apart, Tandy loosened a hand and ran a tentative finger over his lips. “This could easily lead to more. But we have to be realistic.”

“How so?”

“I have obligations. Namely a son and a ranch.”

“Neither of which I’d do anything to hurt.”

She sighed. “You’re a good man. I know you’d never mean to hurt me or Scotty. But we both know your job is going to take you away. I can’t do a one-night stand. Or even one week or one month.”

Closing his eyes, Wyatt set his forehead against hers.

“I can promise you tonight.”

Marrying the Rancher

Roz Denny Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ROZ DENNY FOX’s first book was published by Mills & Boon in 1990. She writes for several Mills & Boon lines and her books are published worldwide in a number of languages. Roz’s warm home-and-family-focused love stories have been nominated for various industry awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s RITA® Award, the Holt Medallion, the Golden Quill and others. Roz has been a member of the Romance Writers of America since 1987 and is currently a member of Tucson’s Saguaro Romance Writers, where she has received the Barbara Award for outstanding chapter service. In 2013 Roz received her fifty-book pin from Mills & Boon. Readers can contact her on Facebook, at rdfox@cox.net, or visit her website at www.korynna.com/rozfox.

This book is dedicated to the many people who work at and volunteer with the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. It sits amid cacti and boulders on ninety-eight natural acres. If you have the opportunity to come to Tucson I hope you’ll schedule a visit to the museum.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Ms. Graham, you’re the reason the Aravaipa Cattle and Sheep Ranchers Association called this emergency meeting.” Preston Hicks sauntered down the grange hall aisle and loomed over where Tandy sat with an arm around her son, Scotty. He’d fallen asleep but came sharply awake at the man’s loud verbal attack.

Tandy and Scotty had arrived late and slipped into empty seats in the back row. Stymied as to why she was being singled out, she glanced surreptitiously around, but saw only stern ranchers she probably once knew but hadn’t seen in a dozen years.

“What’s your problem? I’ve only operated Spiritridge Ranch a couple of months. I haven’t fully rebuilt a herd.” Recognizing her sleepy son probably shouldn’t be here, she gathered him closer. He wouldn’t have come except that as a newly single mom, she’d had no one to leave him with. And the message left on her answering machine had indicated this meeting was important.

Hicks, her closest neighbor and the president of the association, glared down at her from his lofty height and hooked his thumbs over a belt circling his portly belly. “I offered to buy your father’s ranch. Since it’s doubtful you know a thing about raising cattle, all of us expect sooner or later you’ll fail. It would’ve been smarter if you’d stayed in the army and let me have the ranch.”

Garnering murmurs of agreement in the room, the man hitched his pants higher.

“I beg your pardon! I grew up here,” Tandy asserted.

“Yeah, well, I don’t recall you helped your pa work cattle.”

“Because I was busy with schoolwork and sports.”

He wagged a beefy finger in her face. “The past is over. What everyone here agrees with is that you can’t rent a casita to that damned wolf man. We know Curt, rest his soul, had the poor judgment to let Game and Fish come into our Eastern Arizona sector to do their dirty work after old-timers had rid the area of predators. No one wanted to hound Curt, him being so sick and all. You’re a different story. You’re a Johnny-come-lately who has no business messing in here at all.”

“You mean a Janie-come-lately,” called an equally paunchy man, slapping a worn ten-gallon hat on his knee. His comment caused the room full of men to erupt in snickers while Tandy pondered how little time she’d had as a kid to help her dad with the ranch. But she’d loved it. After all, it had been her home.

“We don’t want that government fella here,” shouted someone Tandy couldn’t see. That sufficed to jar her out of her memories. “And we don’t need you enabling him, missy. You understand?”

“Mama!” Scotty tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “I’m scared. Why are those men yelling at you? I wish we hadn’t moved here.”

“Shh. Don’t be scared.” She brushed the boy’s sandy-colored hair with a reassuring hand before turning her attention to her first accoster. “Mr. Hunt hasn’t shown up yet. How do you know he inquired if his old rental was available?”

“Not that I have to tell you, but Hunt arranged to have his mail delivered out to Spiritridge along with yours starting tomorrow. Roy Wilkerson’s wife works at the post office. She took his call and passed on the bad news. You need to send him packing.”

“I believe that’s my decision.” Tandy stood up, squeezing herself and Scotty past the man blocking the aisle with his bulk. She paused briefly to dismiss him with a scowl, along with the others in the room who’d turned in their chairs to stare, apparently all in solidarity with their spokesman.

Lifting her chin, she said loudly, “When my dad was sick and dying of prostate cancer, Wyatt Hunt made time to drive him to the hospital in Safford for chemo. Dad said Hunt alone helped Manny Vasquez with chores and rounding up and selling his herd. If for no other reason, that would convince me to rent a casita to the wildlife biologist again.” In a last show of defiance she squared her shoulders, took Scotty by the hand and marched them to an exit door she stiff-armed open.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Hicks called.

“Stick it where the sun don’t shine!”

Whatever else he may have shouted back got cut off by the slam of the heavy door behind Tandy.

She half carried her gangly son to the parking lot, where she unlocked and wrenched open the back door to her SUV. She lifted him into his booster seat, helped him buckle up and hugged him when he started to cry. “Shh. I won’t let them hurt us.”

“I don’t like that bad man with the big shiny belt buckle. He hollered at you. I wanna go back to Honolulu and live with my cousins.”

Tandy’s heart sank. “Oh, Scotty, the ranch is our home now.” She gently shut his door and rounded the hood to slide behind the wheel. She glanced back at him before jamming the key in the ignition of the aging Wagoneer that had belonged to her dad.

“What’s a wolf man?” Scotty asked, wiping his sniffling nose on his sleeve. “Is he like a werewolf?”

“Heavens, no. Werewolves are folklore. They aren’t real.” Tandy wrenched too hard on the key and the Jeep roared to life then sputtered and died. “Where did you hear about werewolves anyway?”

“From Mark. He’s got a cool movie.”

“Auntie Lucinda let you kids watch that kind of thing?”

“Uh-huh. And vampires, too. And zombies.”

“Sheesh. Well, Mr. Hunt is a regular man. He’ll be renting the casita next to Manny’s for a month starting tomorrow, and he’s one member of a team of wildlife biologists who brought Mexican gray wolves back into this area while your grandpa was alive.”

“Cool.” Scotty swept his hand across his eyes, drying his tears.

“As I understand it, Mr. Hunt needs to track those wolves, count their pups then vaccinate and tag them for a wildlife project.”

“But that man shouldn’t have been mean to you. I hope the wolf man’s nicer. Is he?”

“Please call him Mr. Hunt. Grandpa Marsh liked him a lot and spoke highly of him whenever we talked. Manny says good things about Mr. Hunt, too.”

“If he’s not nice I’ll have Mr. Bones bite him,” Scotty said, brightening considerably the minute he mentioned the Redbone Coonhound. She’d gotten him from the local animal shelter in hopes of helping ease Scotty’s transition to life on a ranch.

“We don’t want Mr. Bones biting anyone.” Tandy loosened her grip on the key and this time started the vehicle without incident. She couldn’t help smiling to herself at her son’s protective instincts. However, her smile soon faded. At thirty-one, she was plagued by plenty of mixed feelings over her abrupt but necessary departure from the military, where she’d enjoyed her job and had earned a steady paycheck.

Scotty had no clue how their lives had changed when his dad, also an army sergeant, had phoned to say he’d fallen in love with another woman. Dan was stationed in the Philippines while she’d served in Afghanistan. Hearing long-distance that he wanted a divorce had stung. But when he had angrily insisted he’d never wanted kids, leaving the army for the ranch she’d inherited in Arizona had seemed the only choice for her and Scotty.

Cutting ties in Hawaii had been necessary because Dan’s sister, Lucinda, had cared for Scotty while both parents were deployed. She’d said to keep the peace in her family, she had to side with her brother. Compared to all that, having a group of old ranchers attempting to bully her felt minor.

Checking her son in the rearview mirror, it hurt seeing his tearstained face. Back when she’d first learned she was pregnant, not long after hers and Dan’s whirlwind romance, he had mentioned not wanting kids. She should’ve divorced him then. And would have if he hadn’t sweet-talked her into believing he’d spoken in the heat of the moment. Only during the divorce had she learned he’d been up for a promotion at the time. So, the jackass’s change of heart had been because his CO wouldn’t have promoted him if he’d thought Dan would dump a pregnant wife.

She rolled down her window to let a breeze cool her anger. She should’ve said more to those ranchers. Like she ought to have seen through Dan. Oh, but why replow old ground? It was probably a godsend their jobs had kept them apart. Now she was well rid of him.

Still, she felt bad for Scotty. He missed his aunt and cousins. He wasn’t as happy with their move to the ranch as Tandy had hoped. She wished she had more hours each day to spend being his mom. But boning up on raising cattle and building a herd demanded a lot of time.

And they could use the income from renting a casita to Wyatt Hunt. While it’d been a blessing to inherit Spiritridge, most of the funds in her father’s bank account went to clearing his medical bills. She’d tapped her savings for the move and to buy cattle. And her dad’s elderly ranch hand, who she was happy had agreed to work for her, had been very frank about how long it’d take her to turn a profit with a fledgling herd. Especially since she hadn’t yet purchased a bull to turn out with her heifers.

Maybe she should’ve sold the ranch. At the time she just wanted to escape rejection and go where she’d been blessed to have had an idyllic childhood. That carefree life was what she wanted for Scotty. And by damn, she wouldn’t let angry, futzy old ranchers like Preston Hicks and his minions wreck that.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Tandy looked out her kitchen window and saw thick fog rolling over the basin. The white mist completely shrouded the usually dark Santa Teresa and craggy Galiuro Mountains that ringed the high desert where she ran her cattle.

She let the kitchen curtain drop and filled her coffee mug, further worrying they might get snow today. She’d turned her calendar to February, but having grown up here she knew it could snow as late as April.

“Mama, do we hafta go feed cows? I’m cold,” Scotty said, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he came into the kitchen.

Mr. Bones padded after him; his dog tags clinked merrily as he trotted around the boy and went straight to his dish of kibble, which Tandy had already set out.

“We do, Scotty,” she said as he took his seat at the kitchen table. “Raising cattle is pretty much an all-day, every day job. But I’ll ask Manny if we can start later. See if this fog burns off a bit. Wear one of the flannel shirts we bought, and the lined denim jacket. If you’d like, you can ride with me on Butterscotch. If you sit in front of me, I’ll block most of the chilly wind.”

“Nah, I’ll ride Patch,” he said, referencing the small, sure-footed mule his grandfather’s longtime ranch hand had found for him. “I don’t want Mr. Manny to think I’m a sissy,” Scotty declared as he dug into the bowl of hot cereal Tandy had set before him.

“A sissy? Honestly, Scotty, if your cousin taught you that, I’m triply glad we left Hawaii to live here.”

“Mark knows everything. He’s in fourth grade, you know.”

Tandy stifled a laugh. She might have said more except her cell phone rang. She hurried to the counter, where it sat on its charger.

“Maybe that’ll be the wolf man calling to say he’s coming today.” Scotty perked right up.

“It’s Manny,” Tandy said, seeing her cowhand’s name on the screen. She picked up the phone and put it to her ear. “Manny, hi. We’ll be ready to ride shortly. We’re running a little late. I’m considering waiting until this fog burns off some to go out. Will that be okay with you?”

“Fine, Tandy. This weather is playing havoc with my arthritic joints. I hope you can handle checking stock today without me.”

“I’ll have to. Do you have medication? Is there anything you need?”

“I’m good. This damp snap wasn’t predicted. I do okay if I have a couple days’ warning so I can start taking a heavy-duty analgesic.”

Tandy had feared Manny’s advanced age might be an issue. She relied on him because he’d been loyal to her father, and he’d offered his help. “I’m sorry your joints hurt,” she murmured. “I’ll take my cell phone if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll give you a call when Scotty and I finish for the day. Better yet, I’ll bring you supper.”

“Thanks, I’d like that. By the way, how was the association meeting last night? What was their big emergency?”

“Ah, the meeting. It was called to do a hatchet job on me. Preston Hicks tore into me for renting a casita to Wyatt Hunt. I wouldn’t have thought so many grown men could throw fits over a few wolves. Wolves lived here before ranchers moved in.”

She handed Scotty a piece of toast to go with his cereal and broke off a corner of a second slice for herself.

“Steer clear of Hicks,” the old man warned. “He led the association to band together against Wyatt when he and his team released the wolves. Somebody, and your pa thought it was Pres, laid a dead wolf on the hood of Wyatt’s vehicle as a threat. He and others on his team got phone threats, too. But the government agency in charge of the wolf program sent out a letter saying whoever did it could be prosecuted.”

“I wish I’d known all of that before I agreed to rent to Mr. Hunt. New as I am, I don’t need to be the source of grief to neighbors. I also don’t like being stuck in the middle of a turf war over wolf repatriation.”

“Your pa favored the program. He told Hunt to ignore Preston’s bluster. Best you avoid them if you can, Tandy.”

“I know Dad liked Mr. Hunt a lot. I promise not to go out of my way to engage Hicks. But I won’t cower, either. You take care of your arthritis. If you need groceries or anything from town, I hope to make a run to the feed store tomorrow or the next day.”

“I’m good, but thanks. With luck I’ll be back in the saddle tomorrow.”

She ended their call, sighed and put away her phone.

“What’s wrong?” Scotty asked.

“Manny can’t ride with us today. He has an illness called arthritis that causes him pain in his knees, elbows and fingers. He believes he’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“I heard that. He talks really loud. But what did he say about a dead wolf? How did one die, Mama?”

“It’s nothing for us to worry about. It didn’t happen recently.”

“You sounded worried. Is it ’cause that bad man said don’t rent to the wolf man?”

“Honey, he was making noise. I don’t want you to be concerned. Please call him Mr. Hunt. If you’re finished with your cereal, rinse the bowl then go get dressed. You can watch TV while I fix something in advance for supper. We’ll let the fog lift before we go feed cattle.”

Scotty slipped off his chair and carried his bowl to the sink. “Can we have pa’sketti?”

“Spaghetti.” Tandy stressed the correct pronunciation.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Laughing, Tandy tweaked his cowlick. “I can make that. Outside of pizza I know it’s your most favorite food.”

“Yup. If the wolf man, uh, Mr. Hunt, comes today like the bad man said, he can eat supper with us and tell us all about the wolves.”

“No, Scotty. He’s only renting one of our casitas. He will cook his own meals. I doubt we’ll see much of him at all. I hope anyway,” she added under her breath.

“Aww, I wanna see his baby wolves.”

“Forget that. We want all wolves to stay far away from the ranch.”

“Me and Mr. Bones could take care of a baby wolf, dontcha think?”

“Not a good plan.” Tandy shooed him and the hound out of the kitchen.

* * *

SOME TWELVE HOURS after they’d had their morning discussion and rehashed it several times, Tandy and Scotty rode back to the barn. It’d been a hard day because the fog hadn’t lifted until midafternoon and hung in the deeper arroyos where she’d needed to check on cows and fill water troughs. Scotty had driven her crazy by constantly riding his mule off into underbrush, claiming to be searching for wolf cubs.

Unsaddling Butterscotch, and then Patch, she wondered what had made her think she could chase a herd of Santa Gertrudis cattle over an inhospitable landscape, take care of a house, and maybe homeschool her almost-six-year-old son in the fall when he began first grade. Maybe because her mother had done the same until Tandy started third grade.

“Hurry, Mama. I’m starved and so is Mr. Bones.” Scotty called to her from the fading light outside the barn door.

“I’m coming. But you’re going to have to give me time to fix garlic bread and a salad while the spaghetti heats through.”

Scotty skipped ahead with his pet. Tandy lagged behind. She’d assumed all the patrols she’d led over rough terrain in Afghanistan would have prepared her to chase after and feed a few hundred cows. Obviously not. She was exhausted.

“Honey, why don’t you build something with your Legos while supper warms? I’ll bring Manny his plate first. I hope he’s not feeling worse, now that the fog has settled again.”

Scotty stopped at the front door and glanced around. “It’s almost dark and the wolf man hasn’t come. Do you think that bad guy from last night shot him?”

“Scotty!” Tandy gasped his name as she reached around him and turned on the interior lights. “Area ranchers may not want him here, but no one would go that far.”

“They might,” he said, trudging down the hall. “Didn’t you see? The bad man had a gun.”

She hadn’t noticed. She worried that Scotty had heard too much violent war-talk, living with an uncle in the navy, as well as his dad and herself.

She headed to the kitchen and in about forty minutes the meal was ready. But she hadn’t taken time to clean up. She still felt grungy from a full day of herding strays out of canyons. Oh, well, she’d shower before bed.

“Scotty, come eat. The garlic bread is due out in a minute.”

She heard him leave his room just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll answer the door, Mama.”

“Okay. It’s probably Manny. Tell him I’ll fix that plate, or better, he should come eat with us.” She tore off a piece of foil to cover the dish if he didn’t elect to stay. He’d said often the hired help shouldn’t eat with the boss. Silly as it sounded to her, apparently he’d been that way until her father got sick and needed assistance preparing his meals.

The oven timer dinged. She slipped on oven mitts to remove the casserole dish and the hot bread.

From the other room a male voice she didn’t recognize said, “Hi there, young man. I’m here to pick up a key to one of the casitas from Ms. Graham. Is that your mother?”

“Are you the wolf man?” Scotty exclaimed, his tone filled with awe. “Mama’s in the kitchen putting pa’sketti on the table. It’s super yummy. Come on in and eat with us.”

Tandy almost dropped the bread. In the middle of finding a place to set the hot item she heard the man laugh. It was a deep rumble that reminded her of how disheveled she looked. Her free hand flew to smooth down her hair. Not wanting her first meeting with her renter to put her at a disadvantage for wearing grubby jeans and a sauce-spattered work shirt, she called to Scotty. “His house key is on the end table beside the lamp.”

Before she could add that the casita was stocked and ready, she heard their new tenant saying how the food certainly smelled good.

Considering the lateness of the hour, the poor man had probably been traveling through the fog instead of stopping to eat. Having a change of heart for someone who’d been a friend to her dad, she stepped to the arch and almost fell over Mr. Bones. “Scotty, show him where to wash up. I’ll set another plate.”

Tandy rushed back and set out another place setting. She was tearing off extra paper towel for napkins when her son, jabbering a mile a minute, dragged their guest into the kitchen. Glancing up, a welcoming smile froze on her lips, and the paper towel fluttered from her hand. She and the newcomer both grabbed for it, causing their hands to connect. The strength in his fingers sent shock waves rippling up Tandy’s arm. She quickly withdrew, leaving him to catch the towel before it hit the floor.

Wyatt Hunt was nothing like she’d presumed. For one thing, he was a lot younger. And gosh, he was tall. Over six feet, she judged. Wide shouldered and narrow hipped, he wore cowboy garb as if it’d been tailor-made to fit his muscular frame. His dark blond hair showed a stubborn curl. When he smiled down at Scotty, a dimple flashed in his left cheek.

His good looks sent Tandy’s heart thudding like a jungle drum. She felt even more rattled when considering again how crappy she must look.