Rocky Mountain Brides: Raising the Rancher's Family

Dear Reader,

I love beginning a new series. I had so much fun creating the small town of Destiny, Colorado, and the people who live and work there, where families are the foundation, and the roots run deep in the close community.

Tim and Claire Keenan were blessed years ago when three little girls were left in their care. Morgan, Paige and Leah Keenan are the basis for these stories.

The first is Leah’s story, Raising the Rancher’s Family. When photographer Leah Keenan returns home from a tragedy during her travels, she runs headlong into stubborn rancher Holt Rawlins. The sparks fly, but so does the compassion as they help each other heal.

Then there’s Paige’s story, The Sheriff’s Pregnant Wife. After being jilted, and ending up pregnant, attorney Paige Keenan moves home to open a law practice and be with her family to raise her baby. Soon, her once-boyfriend Sheriff Reed Larkin is hanging around, playing the part of stand-in daddy.

In the third story, A Mother for the Tycoon’s Child, Morgan has emotional scars from her past. Now the mayor, she is doing everything she can to bring revenue into town. When tycoon Justin Hilliard arrives in Destiny to invest in a resort, he becomes twice as appealing when she meets his five-year-old child. In no time the father/daughter duo work their way into Morgan’s heart.

I hope you enjoy visiting all the places in my stories that make Destiny so special.

Thanks for reading,

Patricia Thayer

Originally born and raised in Muncie, Indiana, PATRICIA THAYER is the second of eight children. She attended Ball State University, and soon afterwards headed West. Over the years she’s made frequent visits back to the Midwest, trying to keep up with her growing family.

Patricia has called Orange County, California, home for many years. She not only enjoys the warm climate, but also the company and support of other published authors in the local writers’ organisation. For the past eighteen years she has had the unwavering support and encouragement of her critique group. It’s a sisterhood like no other.

When she’s not working on a story, you might find her travelling the United States and Europe, taking in the scenery and doing story research while thoroughly enjoying herself, accompanied by Steve, her husband for over thirty-five years. Together they have three grown sons and four grandsons. As she calls them, her own true-life heroes. On her rare days off from writing you might catch her at Disneyland, spoiling those grandkids rotten! She also volunteers for the Grandparent Autism Network.

Patricia has written for over twenty years and has authored over thirty-six books. She has been nominated for both the National Readers’ Choice Award and the prestigious RITA®. Her book Nothing Short of a Miracle won a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice award.

A long-time member of Romance Writers of America, she has served as President and held many other board positions for her local chapter in Orange County. She’s a firm believer in giving back.

Check her website at www.patriciathayer.com for upcoming books.

Rocky

Mountain Brides

Raising the

Rancher’s Family

The Sheriff’s

Pregnant Wife

A Mother for the

Tycoon’s Child

Patricia Thayer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

SHE was finally home …

Leah Keenan drew a shaky breath as she drove the narrow road that led up the mountain. To the safe haven of Destiny, Colorado, where she’d grown up surrounded by love and the security of her two sisters and their adoptive parents. It had been twenty-seven years since the day when she, Morgan and Paige had been left at the Keenan Inn.

But she wasn’t the same idealistic, fun-loving girl who had left the small town three years ago. The cruelty of the world had managed to change her.

For the past month she’d fought the recurring memories, but with no success. Memories of the Middle East where she’d been photographing the horrors of war for Our World magazine. She’d seen so much horror—the bombs, the gunfire, the death and destruction. She just finished filming the earthquake and seen the hundreds of thousands of homeless.

And, oh God, the children …

At the sound of a horn, Leah swerved just in time to miss the oncoming car. Shaken, she pulled her rental car to the side of the road and shut off the engine. In the silence Leah could hear the sound of her pounding heart. She had to get herself together.

After a few minutes, she climbed out and drew in a breath of clean mountain air. She slowly began to relax as she eyed the familiar area. White Aspen trees lined the road, their new growth and rich green leaves promising spring had arrived in southern Colorado. Her gaze rose to the San Juan Mountain Range, the Rocky terrain blanketed by huge pine trees. At the very top were patches of leftover snow from the previous winter.

Leah smiled, suddenly feeling adventurous. As a kid she’d hiked through these foothills as if they were her backyard, and her daring spirit had driven her parents crazy.

Luckily on her flight from Durango she’d worn her standard work clothes—a cotton blouse, pullover sweater, khaki pants and lace-up boots.

Grabbing her trusty camera off the seat, Leah marched to the fence and a sign that read, No Trespassing. Since the landowner, John Rawlins was a friend, she ignored it. She easily climbed over the wire fence, decided the direction she planned to go and set out on the narrow trail.

Leah made her way through the trees toward the mountainside. A doe appeared in the grove of trees and she paused to snap a picture. The serene beauty of this place helped to soothe her. Eager to reach her destination, she picked up her pace. After another fifty yards, she could hear the sound of water.

In the shade of the trees it grew cool, but she let nothing slow her until she reached the clearing. She stared in awe at the sight and sound of water rushing over the sheer ledge of mountainside into the rocky bottom of the pond below. Years ago, she’d named this special place Hidden Falls. Since adolescence, this had always been her private retreat, her escape where she could daydream.

A sudden movement caught her eye. She glanced toward the base of the falls to find a small child squatting down on a rock and washing in the water. He looked about eight years old, she thought as she snapped a picture of him, then glanced around to look for anyone else in the vicinity. Like a parent.

Not another person in sight.

Leah moved closer and the kid suddenly jerked around and caught sight of her. There was fear in his eyes as he stumbled backward, then regained his footing and took off.

“Hey, wait,” she called after him. “I’m not going to hurt you. Are you lost? I have a phone in the car.”

The kid didn’t stop. He darted through the trees like a mountain lion. Leah followed, but the youngster was too fast. “It’s going to get dark soon,” she yelled, but the boy was gone.

Okay, he so wasn’t going to come to her. Refusing to give up, she continued through the trees as she checked her watch. It was after three o’clock.

“He didn’t even have a jacket,” she murmured, knowing how cold it would get after nightfall.

Then in the distance she spotted a figure on horseback. As he approached she could see he was a large man with a black Stetson pulled low over his face. Suddenly her attention was drawn to the rifle he held across his saddle horn. She suddenly felt fear, something she’d thought she’d left behind.

“Hello, maybe you can help me,” she said a little too breathless. “There’s a boy—”

“You’re trespassing,” he interrupted.

She blinked at his rudeness. “Not really,” she said, trying to recognize the man, but his sandy-brown hair and startling green eyes were unfamiliar. “I know the landowner. I’m more worried about the young boy I saw. I think he might be a runaway.”

“I haven’t seen any kids,” he insisted. To her relief, he slipped the rifle back into the sleeve. “So you need to leave.”

“I said it was okay, I’m Leah Keenan. John Rawlins has let me hike here to take pictures for years.”

“That’s not going to be allowed any longer.”

Leah wasn’t used to people around here being unfriendly. “And why is that?”

“John died about six months ago.” She was close enough to see something flash in his eyes, sadness, vulnerability …

Quick tears stung her eyes. “Oh, no, not John. I didn’t know.” The rancher had been about her father’s age. He was also someone she’d loved and enjoyed seeing and talking to.

“Well, now you do.” He shifted the big gelding and pinned her with startling green eyes. “So you can leave the property.”

“I can’t. There’s still a lost child. He could be hiding out in one of the caves. That could be dangerous.”

“Then I’ll ride around and check it out.”

His offhanded promise didn’t reassure her. “I know where all the caves are around here. I could help you look.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Leah worked hard to hold her temper. “There is no reason to be rude. I’m only worried about the child.”

“That child is trespassing, and so are you. Now leave.”

Her temper got the best of her and she jammed her hands on her hips. “Just who are you?”

“Holt Rawlins.”

Leah’s gaze combed over the shadowed face, and finally recognized the strong jaw and the familiar cleft in his chin. The difference was the sandy-colored hair, and those piercing emerald eyes.

“John’s son,” she whispered. “I didn’t know John had a son.”

A bitter smile creased his wide mouth. “That makes us even. For years I didn’t know I had a father.”

Holt Rawlins slowly followed the intruder on horseback and watched as she made her way to the fence and climbed over it. Leah Keenan got into her car and finally drove off.

He breathed a sigh. The last thing he wanted was another resident of Destiny telling him what a wonderful man John Rawlins was. If the man was so great why hadn’t he seen or spoken to his only son in nearly thirty years?

Holt’s parents’ divorce had been a bitter one. For years his mother had told him that his father was a selfish man, that his family hadn’t mattered as much to him as his precious Silver R Ranch.

With the notification of his father’s death four months ago, Holt had now returned to the place of his birth. To live on the land that rightfully belonged to a Rawlins.

And he was a third generation Rawlins.

He turned the chestnut gelding, Rusty, toward the picturesque waterfall, letting the tranquil sound relax him as he looked through the rows of aspen trees toward the majestic mountain range. Though he was a New Yorker who thrived on the energy of big city life, there was part of him that got a different kind of rush from this place.

He attributed it to the fact that his life was in turmoil right now. He’d ended a long-term relationship with a woman whom he’d thought he wanted to be his wife. His career wasn’t the exciting challenge it once had been. So when the lawyer called and said his father had passed away and left him a ranch, Holt knew he needed to come back. At least to learn about the man who was his father. So far, all he’d discovered was that everyone around here had loved and respected the man. His chest tightened. Then why hadn’t he had time for his only son?

Holt thought back to the numerous birthdays and Christmases when a small boy had waited for a present, or letter. Just a phone call. But there had been nothing…ever.

He pushed aside the memories and glanced toward the road. All evidence was gone of the petite blonde with the big doe eyes. But something in those deep, chocolate depths told him she didn’t give up easily. He doubted he’d seen the last of her, or heard the last praise of a man who to Holt had been no more than a stranger.

Leah drove down two-lane First Street, the main road through town, past the row of buildings that made up the small community of fifteen hundred residents. In the historical town square was the bank, the sheriff’s office, City Hall and the mayor’s office. Leah smiled. The mayor was her older sister, Morgan.

Leah drove past the large tiered fountain that spouted clear mountain water…for now. Over the years the water mysteriously changed color according to any upcoming holiday.

Not much had changed in the pleasant town she and her sisters had grown up in. That gave her comfort, comfort she needed to help heal her body…and her heart.

She slowed at Pine Street and turned left. Just a block up the road she saw the huge brick and wooden structure she still called home. She pulled up in front of the decorative white sign posted in the yard of the historic bed and breakfast, the Keenan Inn, Tim and Claire Keenan proprietors.

Leah climbed out of the car as her mother rushed out of the house. Right behind her was her father.

“Leah, you’re home.” Claire Keenan wrapped welcoming arms around her daughter and held on tight. Leah fought her emotions as she inhaled her mother’s familiar rose scent.

She kissed Leah’s cheek then pulled back to examine her again with concerned blue eyes. “You look tired—and you’re too thin.”

Leah laughed and brushed away a tear. “Gee, Mom, thanks.”

“Step aside, Mother, I need to hold this lass in my arms to make sure she’s really my baby girl.” Tim Keenan pulled her into a rough embrace and whispered in her ear. “You’re home now, Leah, and you’re safe. My prayers were answered.”

Her father had always had the power to know what she was thinking and feeling. What she needed. The big, burly Irishman had dark good looks with an easy smile and big heart. And from the time Leah had noticed boys, she’d compared everyone to him. Not one of them had ever measured up.

Suddenly Holt Rawlins came to mind again. There was something about the man she hadn’t been able to shake. As a trained photographer she’d prided herself on reading people, but not this man.

“Tim, let the poor girl get a breath,” Claire said. “Let’s go into the kitchen.” She took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it as she blinked back tears. “It’s so good to have you home. You’ve been away too long.”

“I know, Mom.”

They walked up the steps to the Victorian house. The large porch was trimmed with baskets of colorful spring flowers. Two wooden swings hung by chains on either side of an oak door with the oval beveled glass inlays. She stepped across the threshold into a wide entry and honey oak hardwood floors. A burgundy carpet runner led to a sideboard that was used as the hotel’s front desk. The high white ceilings were trimmed in crown molding. The pocket doors to the parlor were partly closed, but Leah could see two guests sitting at the window enjoying their afternoon tea.

Her mother said something to the girl behind the desk, then escorted Leah past the winding staircase that led to six guest suites upstairs on the second floor.

They passed the library with the fireplace and the big comfortable, overstuffed wing chairs and the shelves loaded with books. Next was the formal dining room with the floral wallpaper and oak wainscoting. Several tables were already set for tomorrow’s breakfast with fine china and silver and colorful napkins.

They walked into the kitchen. This room was different from the rest of the house, mainly because it was strictly for family. No guests were allowed in this area. The same went for the Keenans’s living quarters on the third floor

Her father led her to the big table in the alcove lined with windows facing the backyard. “Now, tell us about your travels.”

As Leah sat down she felt her heart begin to pound, but before she could speak, her mother spoke up. “Tim, leave the child alone. She hasn’t even had a chance to catch her breath.”

Leah touched his rough hand. “Dad, I want to know about what’s been going on here. That Morgan was elected mayor is so cool. I bet that ruffled good old Hutchinson’s feathers.”

The Hutchinsons had always been the wealthiest family in town. It was their great-grandfather, Will, who first struck it rich with the “Silver Destiny Mine,” and had helped found the town.

Claire looked sad. “I think Lyle is more concerned about his father. Billy Hutchinson is failing badly. It’s a shame he had to be put in the nursing home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Billy Hutchinson had to be well over eighty.

Her father stiffened. “Well that didn’t stop his son, Lyle, from trying to undermine the election, by strong-arming his employees to vote for him. Lyle wants what’s good for himself.” Tim nodded. “Morgan will do what’s good for the town.”

Claire carried a big tureen of potato soup to the table, then filled bowls for everyone. She handed the first one to Leah.

“I have to say, Mom, I’ve missed your cooking,” Leah said.

Claire beamed. “Well, I hope that convinces you to stay longer. Both you and your hotshot lawyer sister.”

Leah didn’t want to talk about leaving again. She just wanted to think about pleasant things. Like home, and family. “How is Paige? I haven’t been able to e-mail her in months.”

“She works too hard,” her mother said, “but we’re hoping to get her home for the celebration.”

The familiar voice called out from the hall. “Hey, where is everyone?”

“We’re in here.” Leah jumped up and went to the doorway as tall, willowy Morgan came in.

Her auburn hair was long and curled around her shoulders. A perfect frame for her green eyes. Morgan and Leah were as opposite as two sisters could be.

“Leah, come here, squirt.” Morgan hugged her tight in a comforting embrace. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“And I’m glad to be here.” Tears prickled Leah’s eyes as her sister held her close. So many times while she’d been far away from home, she had relied on her big sister’s love and support.

“Come eat, you two, before it gets cold,” Claire called.

They walked hand in hand to the table and sat down. After a short blessing, the family began to eat.

“I heard that John Rawlins died,” Leah said. “Is that true?”

Her father nodded. “It happened so fast. A heart attack.” His gaze met hers. “How did you find out?”

“I stopped by Hidden Falls and ran into a man who says he’s John’s son. A Holt Rawlins.” She didn’t mention that he was good-looking, but not all that friendly. “I didn’t know John had a son.”

Her father nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Years ago John met his wife, Elizabeth, when she was here on vacation. They fell in love and were married just weeks later. But she never took to being a rancher’s wife, and Elizabeth took the boy back East to her family.”

“Why didn’t Holt ever come here to visit John?”

“John tried, but Elizabeth’s family had money and she got full custody of their son. She refused to let him come back here even for a visit.”

“Well, he’s here now,” Leah said.

Her mother sighed. “John left him the Silver R Ranch.”

“Is he going to stay?”

“Not sure,” her father said. “The word is he’s a financial adviser in New York. Why so interested?”

Leah shrugged. “I guess I’m curious as to what kind of man he is,” she said honestly. “I noticed a little boy at Hidden Falls. By the looks of him, I’d say he’s a runaway. Mr. Rawlins wasn’t too eager to help me look for him.”

Morgan looked up from her soup. “I haven’t gotten a report from the sheriff about any runaways. Are you sure he’s not just a camper who strayed? John’s property borders the Mountain View Campground.”

Leah had seen too many hungry street kids not to be suspicious. “Could be, but tomorrow, I’m going back to look for him whether Rawlins likes it or not.”

Her parents exchanged a look. “Maybe you should let the sheriff handle it.”

“The sheriff can’t do anything if he can’t find the child, if he’s hiding out. But don’t worry, I can handle Holt Rawlins.” She thought about the intimidating man with the rifle and hoped that was true.

But she thought wrong.

The next morning, Leah parked her car in the same spot and followed the trail that led toward the falls, but she didn’t make it undetected. Mr. Rawlins met her on the trail.

He looked better than a man in a pair of old jeans and a Western shirt that looked like he’d been working for hours had any right to look. He wore his Stetson like a shield, low, concealing a lot of his face.

“I thought I told you I would take care of this,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “I decided you could use some help,” she told him.

He leaned forward, resting his arm on the saddle horn. “You’re still trespassing.”

“And there’s a young boy who could be lost.”

“Or he could be running from the law.”

“Either way, he’s just a child.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving.”

“I could remove you, or call the sheriff.”

“I’ll still report seeing a child,” she challenged right back. “He’ll get a search party together and comb this area.”

Holt stiffened. The last thing he wanted was more people coming on the property. Curious residents of Destiny, wondering about his business here.

“Of course with a lot of people searching,” she continued, “it could drive the frightened boy into more danger.”

“I’ll give you two hours. If we don’t find anything, the search is over.” He held out his hand. “Climb on.”

Leah Keenan’s big brown eyes rounded. “You want me to ride with you?”

“Since I don’t have another mount, and I doubt you can keep up with me on foot, I’d say this is your only option.”

She squared her shoulders, bringing her height up to maybe five foot two. He’d always been attracted to tall, leggy women. Of course he couldn’t deny he’d noticed her shapely, petite body. At this stage in his celibate life any woman would spark his interest.

“Okay,” she relented. “We’ll start with the caves.”

After his reluctant nod, she marched toward the horse. He slipped his foot out of the stirrup, and she put her boot in, gripped his forearm, pulling herself up behind him. He had no doubt she was an experienced rider.

“All set?” he inquired.

“I’m set.” She grabbed the edge of the cantle on the saddle. “Head toward the hills. I know two caves there. I’m hoping he’s holed up in one of them instead of an abandoned mine.”

Holt tugged the reins to change Rusty’s direction. The transition didn’t go smoothly and Leah gasped and grabbed on to Holt to stay on the horse. He tried to ignore the feel of her hands on his waist, but her touch was like a brand burning into his skin. He found he’d missed it once they got on the trail and she released her hold.

“If you need to hold on …”

“I’ve ridden all my life, I think I can manage to stay on a horse.”

About twenty minutes later they finally reached the edge of the rocky hillside. Leah was eager to get off the horse. She was becoming far too aware of the close contact with this man.

“Stop here,” she called and dismounted before he could offer to help. She took off up the slight grade of the slope, feeling Holt behind her. She heard him slide in his leather sole boots, but wasn’t about to help him. He didn’t care about any lost kids. Let him keep up with her. She finally made it to the ledge, and kept going around the rock formation. Years disappeared recalling it had probably been since high school that she’d scaled this rocky terrain.