The Rancher's Housekeeper

“I wish this hadn’t happened. Now you feel a new obligation to help me. It’s all you do, and I don’t want to be any more of a burden than I already am.”

“If you’re a burden, then it’s news to me,” Colt replied. “Right now I’m going to kiss you, Geena. If you don’t want me to, that’s tough. ‘No quarter asked or given,’ you said. Remember? Your mouth is all I’ve been able to think about since you kissed me on the dance floor in Hulett.”

His hand spanned her tender throat, positioning her face so he could kiss her. He’d been starving for her. It was ecstasy to feel her crushed in his arms like this.

Dear Reader,

Have you ever been accused of something you didn’t do?

Every so often the media tells us about people who have spent time in prison for a crime they didn’t commit. The possibility of that happening is a terrifying thought. No one can know their anguish before they’re freed, or their joy when the mistake is caught and the injustice rectified.

I explored this idea in my latest novel, The Rancher’s Housekeeper. Walk in Geena’s shoes. You’ll feel chills and then thrills when she meets the owner of the Floral Valley Ranch.

Enjoy!

Rebecca Winters

REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church.

Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her website: www.cleanromances.com

The Rancher’s Housekeeper

Rebecca Winters

CHAPTER ONE

COLT Brannigan kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.” He turned to her caregiver. “I’m working with the nursing service in Sundance. They’ll be sending someone out in the next few days to start helping you with Mom’s care.”

“I’ll be fine. Hank’s been able to give me some free time.”

“That’s good. See you tonight, Ina.”

Colt’s sixty-year-old mother didn’t know anyone. She’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s before his father’s death sixteen months ago. It had grown much worse over the past year. She needed round-the-clock care.

“Hey, Colt?”

At the sound of his brother Hank’s voice, Colt shut the bedroom door and strode down the hallway of the ranch house’s main floor toward him.

“What’s up?”

“Phone call for you from Warden James’s office.”

Warden James? “Must be a wrong number,” he said, knowing full well it wasn’t. He walked past his brother and headed for the back door, not needing another delay when he should be in the upper pasture.

Hank followed him at a slower pace due to his walking cast. “You did advertise for a housekeeper in the Black Hills Sentinel. They want to know if you’ve already filled the position.”

Colt realized he should have indicated in the ad that they were looking for a female housekeeper. His mother would insist on it if she could express herself, but that time would never come again. “Tell them it’s too late.”

“But—”

“No buts!” He cut his brother off with a grimace. Before their father had passed away from blood clots in the lungs, he’d obliged the warden by granting him a favor, one he’d lived to regret.

The freed inmate had been taken on as a ranch hand on a provisional basis. He’d stayed only long enough for a few meals and a paycheck before he took off with the blanket from his bunk and some of the other hands’ cash. To add injury to insult, he’d stolen one of the ranch’s quarter horses.

Colt had tracked him down and recovered the stolen property. The ex-felon was once again behind bars. Unfortunately the percentage of freed inmates who ended up back in prison was high. Now that Colt ran the Floral Valley Ranch, he’d be damned if he would make the mistake his father had and invest any more time or money on an ex-con.

“I’ll be checking fences all day. Won’t be home until late. Call if there’s an emergency.” He jumped off the back porch and headed for the barn. After swinging into the saddle, he galloped away on Digger.

It took the right kind of female to run a household like theirs and manage the domestic help. In fact it took a saint, but those were in short supply since their previous housekeeper, Mary White Bird, had died. Colt realized their family could never replace her. The full-blooded Lakota had been their mother’s right hand and an institution on the ranch.

He’d advertised in various newspapers throughout Wyoming and South Dakota, but so far none of the applicants had the qualifications he was looking for. Forget a released felon. Colt was getting desperate, but not that desperate.

Floral Valley Ranch 4 miles.

Geena Williams rode past the small highway sign and had to turn around. Eight miles back an old rancher at the Cattlemen’s Stock and Feed Store in Sundance, Wyoming, had told her she might miss the turnoff if she weren’t looking for it. He’d been right. From here on out it would be dirt road.

She stopped long enough to catch her breath and take a drink from her water bottle. During the day the temperature had been sixty-nine degrees, with some wind in the afternoon, typical for early June in northeastern Wyoming. But now it had dropped into the fifties and would go lower. Her second-hand parka provided little insulation.

Though the weather had cooperated, it was sheer will and adrenaline that had gotten her this far. Now desperation would have to get her the rest of the way. Her legs would probably turn to rubber before she reached her destination, but Geena couldn’t quit now. She needed to make it to the ranch before it was too dark to see.

A half hour later she caught sight of a cluster of outbuildings, including the ranch house, but it was ten to ten and she didn’t dare approach anyone this late. She pedaled her road bike over to a stand of pines and propped it against one of the trunks.

Her backpack contained everything in the world she owned. No. That wasn’t exactly true. There were some other items precious to her, but she had no idea where they were. Not yet anyway.

She undid the straps to eat some snacks. They tasted good. After she’d pulled out her space blanket, she more or less collapsed from exhaustion onto a soft nest of needles beneath the boughs of the biggest tree.

Using her pack for a pillow, she curled on her right side and covered up, still in shock that tonight the only roof she had over her head was a canopy of stars. She picked out the Big Dipper. Venus was the bright star to the west.

Heaven.

“Come on, Titus. Time to go home.”

Colt shut the barn door. The border collie raced ahead of him with more energy than he knew what to do with. Titus led a dog’s perfect life. He was loved. He ran and worked all day, ate the food he wanted and had no worries. That’s why he went to sleep deliriously happy and woke up happy.

As for Colt, he wouldn’t describe himself happy in the delirious sense. He’d been in that state only one time. Falling in love at twenty-one had been easy when you’d been on the steer-wrestling circuit, winning prize money and dazzling your girl.

It was the happily-ever-after part he didn’t have time to work on before she wanted out because a married man had ranching duties and she wasn’t having fun anymore. Their eleven-month marriage had to have been some kind of record for the shortest one in Crook County, Wyoming.

At thirty-four years of age now, he recognized his mistake. They’d been too young and immature. It simply didn’t work. Since then he’d dated women from time to time, but unless he met one who enriched the busy life he already led, he didn’t see himself in a rush to get married again.

Suddenly the dog switched directions away from the ranch house, barking his head off. He hadn’t gone far when he made that low growling sound that let Colt know they had an intruder on the property. Whether animal or human he couldn’t tell yet.

As he hurried to catch up, he heard a woman’s voice say, “Easy, boy,” trying her best to soothe the black-and-white beast who’d hunted her down. He weighed only forty-five pounds, but in the dark his terrifying growl had clearly made her nervous.

Closer now, Colt could see why. The female on her feet beneath their granddaddy’s ponderosa was wrapped in a space blanket that covered her head. She probably couldn’t see anything. Enveloped like that, she presented a tall silhouette to Titus who couldn’t quite make her out. Any mystery caused the dog to bark with much more excitement.

Against the trunk Colt glimpsed a brand-new road bike. Next to her feet he saw a backpack. “Quiet, Titus,” he commanded the dog, who made a keening sound for having to obey and walked over to Colt.

If she was a nature lover, she was going about it the wrong way. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Thank you for calling him off. He startled me.” She had an appealing voice. The fact that she didn’t sound hysterical came as another surprise.

“What in the devil do you think you’re doing sleeping out here in the dark?” The women of his acquaintance wouldn’t have dreamed of doing anything so foolhardy. “Any animal could bother you, especially a mountain lion on the prowl.”

She pulled the edges of the blanket tighter. The motion revealed her face. “I got here too late to disturb anyone, so I thought I’d rest under the tree.”

“You came to this ranch specifically?”

“Yes, but I realize I’m trespassing. I’m sorry.”

Her apology sounded genuine and she spoke in a cultured voice. What in blazes? He was taken aback by the whole situation. After a glimpse into hauntingly lovely eyes that gave him no answers, he took in a quick breath before picking up her backpack. It was unexpectedly light and had seen better days.

“For whatever reason you’ve come, I can’t allow you to stay out here. Leave the bike and follow me. It’ll be safe where it is.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

She’d already done a good job of it and had gotten his attention in a big way, but that was beside the point. “Nevertheless, you’ll have to come with me. Let’s go.”

The three of them made an odd trio as they entered the back door of the house. He showed her through the mudroom, past the bathroom to the kitchen. Titus headed for his bowls of food and water. After that he would go to his bed in the den. Colt’s father had been gone a long time, but Colt had a hunch the loyal dog was still waiting for his return. Maybe Titus wasn’t that happy after all.

Colt put the woman’s backpack by one of the kitchen chairs. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her remove the space blanket. She was tall, probably five foot nine. He’d thought it might be the blanket above her head that had added the inches. After folding it, she laid it on the oblong wood table, then took off her insubstantial parka. He imagined she was in her mid-twenties.

Except for white sneakers, everything she wore, from her jeans to her long-sleeved navy crew neck, looked well-worn and hung off her. The clothes must have originally been bought for a larger woman. Her brunette hair had been pulled back with an elastic in an uninspiring ponytail. No makeup, no jewelry.

He thought he might have seen her before and tried to imagine her features and figure with a little more flesh on her. Had she been ill? In profile or frontal view, her mouth looked too drawn, the hollows in her cheeks too pronounced, but the fact still remained he felt an unwanted attraction.

Two physical characteristics about her were remarkable. Great bone structure and eyes of inky blue. They looked disturbingly sad as they peered at him through lashes as dark as her brows and hair. Why sad, he couldn’t begin to imagine.

If she’d been running away from a traumatic situation, she bore no bruises or wounds he could see. She stood there proud and unafraid, reminding him of an unfinished painting that needed more work before she came to full life. That in itself added an intriguing element.

“You’re welcome to use the bathroom we just passed.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that. Please excuse me.”

After she disappeared, he walked over to the counter, bemused by her femininity. She’d been endowed with more of it than most women.

Hank had made a fresh pot of coffee and had probably gone to their mother’s bedroom to sit with her for a while. As Colt reached for a couple of mugs from the shelf, his intruder returned. He told her to sit down. “I can offer coffee. Would you like some, or does tea sound better?”

“Coffee, please.”

Colt poured two cups. “Sugar? Cream?” he called over his shoulder.

“Please don’t go to any trouble. Black is fine.”

He doctored both and brought them to the table where she’d sat down at the end. “I laced yours anyway. You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“You’re right. Thank you, Mr….”

“Colt Brannigan.” He drank some of his coffee.

She cradled the cup. With her eyes closed, she took several sips, almost as if she were making a memory. This puzzled him. He stood looking down at her until she’d finished it. In his opinion she needed a good square meal three times a day for the foreseeable future.

“How about telling me who you are.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, still heavy from fatigue. “Geena Williams.” This time he thought he remembered that name from somewhere, too. Eventually it would come to him.

“Well, Geena—perhaps if I made you a ham sandwich, more information might be forthcoming about where you’ve come from and why you showed up on our property.”

“Please forgive me. I’m still trying to wake up.” He’d never heard anyone sound more apologetic. She got to her feet. “I was just freed from the women’s prison in Pierre, South Dakota, today and came all the way to your ranch. I’d hoped to interview for the live-in housekeeper position for a temporary period of time, but it took longer for me to get here than I’d supposed.”

With those words, Colt felt as if he’d just been kicked in the gut by a wild mustang. In an instant everything about her made sense, starting with the call from the prison warden this morning. He must have believed she was trustworthy, yet the new bike propped beneath the tree didn’t match her used clothing. Had she stolen it?

She’s an ex-felon. With the realization came an inexplicable sense of disappointment.

“Is the position still open?” The hope in that question, as if his answer meant life and death to her, almost got to him.

He had to harden himself against it. “I’m afraid not.”

All people had baggage, but anyone who spent time in prison carried a different kind. Colt was looking for a housekeeper who was like Mary White Bird. A wise woman who’d raised a family of her own, a woman who’d helped his mom run the affairs of the ranch house since he was a boy without being obtrusive. She’d had an instinct for handling the staff and guests, not to mention the hothead personalities within the immediate and extended Brannigan clan.

As for Geena Williams, she was too young. She’d done time. He had no idea what crime she’d committed, but he knew she could use counseling to rejoin the world outside prison walls. Who knew the battles going on inside her? Hiring her was out of the question.

Her eyes glazed, yet not one tear spilled from those dark lashes. “You’ve been very kind to me, but I realize I’ve made a big mistake in coming here without arranging for an appointment first.”

He frowned. “As it happens, Warden James called here this morning hoping to make one for you. I asked my brother to tell him it had already been filled. It appears the two of you had a miscommunication. For your sake, I’m sorry the warden didn’t say anything to you.”

A look of confusion marred her features. “Warden James is a woman, but I didn’t know she’d called you. After I was taken to her office yesterday morning, she informed me I’d be freed this morning. I guess she was trying to help me find work so I would have some place to stay.

“As soon as I could go to the prisoners’ lounge last evening, I scanned the classified section of the Rapid City Journal looking for work and saw your ad. I noticed it had been listed a while ago and feared it might have already been filled, but I decided to take a chance anyway and came straight here.”

Colt was astounded by everything she’d told him. His brother had said the warden had seen the ad in the Black Hills Sentinel. Even if this woman were telling the truth, it didn’t matter. There was no job on the ranch available to her or any other inmate, but he was consumed by curiosity. Shifting his weight he asked, “Don’t you have a spouse or a boyfriend who could help you?”

“I’ve never been married. One fellow I was dating before my imprisonment never came near or tried to reach me.”

Colt surmised their relationship couldn’t have been that solid in the first place. “You don’t have relatives who could help you?”

A shadow darkened her features. “None.”

None?

He raked his hair in bewilderment, unable to imagine it before he realized she could be lying about it. Maybe she was ashamed to go home. Colt hadn’t been in her shoes, so it wasn’t fair to judge.

“How did you know where to come?” The ad indicated only that the ranch was near Sundance, Wyoming. Twelve miles, in fact. He’d only listed a box number.

“I realize I was supposed to respond with an email, but I didn’t have access to a computer. By the time the bus dropped me off this afternoon in Sundance where I’d decided to start looking for work, I figured that if someone knew where you lived, I’d just come straight here.

“So after I bought my bike at the shop, I rode over to the Cattlemen’s Stock and Feed Store. Everyone working there said they knew Colt Brannigan, the head of the Floral Valley Ranch. The owner sang your praises for taking over after your father died and making it even more successful. Then this older rancher who was just leaving was kind enough to tell me where to find the turnoff for your ranch.”

Colt was dumbfounded by her explanation and her resourcefulness, especially the fact that she’d bought a bike. He could always call there to verify she’d actually made the purchase. “You rode all the way here on the highway at night?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t dark then. I need transportation to get around. Since I don’t have a driver’s license yet, I can’t buy a junker car.”

“Isn’t a new bike expensive?”

“Yes, but the bike at the shop in Sundance was on sale for $530.00. They threw in the used helmet for ten dollars. I would have bought all new clothes, but after that I only had $160 left of the money I withdrew from my prison savings account. I spent some of it on food, the space blanket and my shoes.”

He blinked. “You earned the money in prison, I presume.”

“Yes. They pay twenty-five cents an hour. That resulted in forty dollars a month for the thirteen months I was incarcerated.”

Thirteen months in hell. What crime had she committed?

Colt ran his thumb along his lower lip. “So you came out of there with $520.00?”

“Seven hundred actually. I worked some extra shifts and they also give you fifty dollars when you leave.”

He would never again begrudge his taxpayer dollars going to an ex-felon who’d paid her debt to society and had been freed from prison. “So how much money do you have on you now to live on?”

“Ninety-two dollars. That’s why I need a job so desperately. I’m a good cook. In prison I did every job from helping in the kitchen and cleaning to laundry and warehouse work, to hospital and dispensary duty and prison-ground cleanup. I’m a hard worker, Mr. Brannigan. If you called the prison, they’d tell you I put in forty-plus hours every week with no infractions. Do you know of anyone in this area who might be looking for help?”

Anyone?

She was looking at someone who needed a housekeeper and an additional caregiver for his mother as soon as yesterday!

He rubbed the back of his neck, pondering his shock that he would even consider the possibility of her working for him when he knew next to nothing about her except the worst. Though she was definitely a survivor, the culprit tugging at him was the vulnerability in those intense dark blue eyes.

Before he could formulate his thoughts, let alone give any kind of answer, Titus came flying through the kitchen to greet Hank, who’d just walked in the back door with Mandy. Their presence surprised Colt because he’d thought Hank was with their mother.

Colt had been so deep in conversation, he hadn’t heard Mandy’s car. Since Hank had broken his leg, she’d been the one chauffeuring him around.

She smiled. “Hey, Colt—”

“Hey yourself, Mandy.” She was a cute smart blonde from Sundance who’d known Hank since high school, but as usual he had eyes for someone else. This time they’d ignited with interest after swerving to the very female stranger standing in the kitchen.

Taking the initiative, Colt said, “Geena Williams? This is my brother Hank and his friend Mandy Clark.”

Everyone said hello and shook hands. Hank could see the backpack and space blanket. He was dying to ask questions, but Colt wasn’t ready to answer them and said nothing to satisfy his brother’s burning curiosity.

“We’ll be in the family room,” Hank eventually muttered before they disappeared with Titus at their heels.

Geena reached for her parka and put it on. “I know I’m intruding. If you wouldn’t mind me sleeping in the back of one of those trucks parked outside, I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

Colt had already come to one decision. Ignoring her comment he said, “You’ve had a long day. Take the coat off, Geena. I’m going to fix you a sandwich and some soup before you go to bed in the guest room. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

He’d heard that saying all his life and wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. However, he didn’t want to do any more thinking tonight. What he ought to do was drive her into town and fix her up at a hotel, but he was bushed. At least that was the excuse he was telling himself for keeping her here. She could sleep in Mary’s former quarters down the other hallway.

Geena had done a lot of dreaming in prison. It had been the only way to escape the bars confining her. But not even her imagination could have conjured the living reality of Colt Brannigan.

She didn’t know such a man existed outside her fantasies. By the way the men at the Cattlemen’s Store had described him, she’d thought he must have been older to be a legend already. But Geena estimated he was in his mid-thirties. There was no sign or mention of a wife.

When she’d first seen him beneath the kitchen light, the intelligence in those hazel eyes examining her came close to taking the last breath out of her. She stared back in disbelief at the ruggedly gorgeous male who was without question in total charge of his world. Tall, dark and handsome was a cliché women had used for years, but in her mind he could have been the one who’d inspired the words.