STORY OF A LIFETIME

Wyatt Fielding wasn’t just handsome. He was ridiculously gorgeous. So if more snow meant more time stranded in the Wind River mountains with him, Alex Dorney hoped it would never stop. For a New York journalist, two days trapped in a tent in a Wyoming blizzard should have been torture. But this was quickly becoming the best—and most important—story of Alex’s life.

When Alex descended upon his camp, Wyatt was beyond stunned. Her breathtaking blonde beauty seemed out of place in the rugged landscape—but she was proving more resourceful, and intriguing, by the hour. His attraction came on stronger and more suddenly than the squall raging outside. But he didn’t know this woman. And she didn’t know his past...

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. Living near canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favorite 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 email her, please visit her website, www.cleanromances.net.

Also by Rebecca Winters

The Right Cowboy

A Valentine for the Cowboy

Made for the Rancher

Cowboy Doctor

Roping Her Christmas Cowboy

The Texas Ranger’s Bride

The Texas Ranger’s Nanny

The Texas Ranger’s Family

Her Texas Ranger Hero

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Stranded with the Rancher

Rebecca Winters

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07781-1

STRANDED WITH THE RANCHER

© 2018 Rebecca Winters

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all the fearless sheepherders who live through sun, wind, rain, snow, sleet and blizzards in the Rocky Mountains tending the ewes and rams. They make it possible for us to have warm linings in our coats and delicious lamb roasts on our tables. It’s an amazing world of beautiful creatures all its own. I was happy to see a little part of it.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Wyatt Fielding exhaled slowly and straightened his back, then knocked on the lawyer’s open door. “Mr. Derrick? Your secretary told me to come in.”

“Of course, Mr. Fielding. Please sit down.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I offer you tea, coffee, a soft drink?”

“Nothing, thanks,” Wyatt said. Though a cool drink would have been refreshing in the August heat, he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything at the moment.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see you until today. I had business out of town all week.”

“I understand. When I made inquiries about who was the best attorney in Wyoming, your name came up many times. As I told you on the phone last week, mine isn’t truly a criminal case, but what happened to me felt criminal at the time. I left a retainer with your secretary.”

The other man nodded. “Go ahead and tell me your story. I’m recording our conversation.”

Wyatt cleared his throat, swallowing past the dry lump there. “Eleven years ago I graduated from high school in Whitebark, Wyoming.”

“That’s clear across the state.”

“Yes. Wind River Country.”

“One of my favorite places to vacation. Go on.”

“I was in love with a girl and we were expecting a child. We wanted to get married, but she wouldn’t turn eighteen until August, so we decided to keep everything quiet until after her birthday, then get married.”

“So her parents didn’t know?”

He shook his head. “They disapproved of their daughter being involved with anyone. She couldn’t go to them. But in July she suffered a miscarriage at six weeks and was taken to the hospital. At that point, her parents would have been told what was wrong. She got word to me at the ranch through one of the nurses. I rushed over to the hospital the next morning to be with her. To my shock, I learned she’d been discharged and sent home.

“I then drove to her house. Her parents told me she no longer lived with them, that I wasn’t welcome there anymore, and that I shouldn’t try to find their daughter.

“I hurried home to tell my grandparents. I’d brought Jenny to our home lots of times. They knew we were in love and they would have let us be married at home. But under the circumstances, they advised me that her parents were in control. I should wait until I heard from Jenny.

“When a week went by with no phone call or letter, I was half out of my mind and went to the hospital to talk to the doctor who had taken care of her. I was told nothing. I begged the head of the hospital to at least give me some information about her health, about where she’d gone, about the miscarriage. He said he couldn’t disclose private records.

“I went back to the ranch feeling as if I’d had an out-of-body experience. That nothing was real. All our plans and dreams destroyed.”

The attorney’s brows lifted. “To this day you’ve never had word of her?”

“No. Two months later I went by her house and saw a for-sale sign in the yard. The neighbor across the street said they’d moved with no forwarding address.”

“That’s a tragic story. I’m very sorry, Mr. Fielding.”

Wyatt leaned forward with his hands clasped. “My grandparents raised me after the age of five and have been my mentors. They wanted to get counseling for me, but I fought it. Before my grandmother died, she urged me to talk this out with someone because she knew the experience had changed me. Both she and my grandfather feared I’d go through life carrying this burden.”

“Were they right?”

“Yes,” Wyatt admitted.

“What brought you to the point you came to me?”

“I’m a sheep rancher and volunteer firefighter. I’m good friends with another firefighter who recently married after being separated nine years from his high school sweetheart. He came back to Whitebark still in love with her memory, and they found their way back to each other.”

“Is that what you’re hoping? That if you find her, you’ll get back together, too?”

Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t know. What I’d like to do is find out where she is and how she’s doing. I’m praying she’s married with children and happy. That would help me a lot. It would probably be too much to ask if she were willing to talk to me about the loss of the baby. Neither of us had closure, but I would never want to disturb her life. Just knowing she’s all right would give me peace of mind.”

“Are you asking me to find her?”

“Yes. Any information would be helpful.”

“All right. Give me the particulars you can about her and her family.”

“Her name is Jenny Allen and by now she would be twenty-nine, like me. She was an only child. Her parents were Joseph and Marjorie Allen. I learned they moved to Whitebark, Wyoming, from Hardin, Montana, after she was born.

“Her dad had been a pastor at a church there and took over at the church in Whitebark when the local pastor died. Her father had a widowed aunt in Miles City, Montana, but the woman passed away while we were dating. Jenny might have had family on her mother’s side, but I never met anyone. That’s all I know.”

“Give me her physical description.”

“She was five-four, about 118 pounds, slender, with brown eyes and brown hair she wore swept back in a ponytail. She had a one-inch scar above the elbow of her left arm where she once got cut on the ice as a child. Jenny was soft-spoken.”

“Good. Were you on speaking terms with her parents?”

“No. Jenny never invited me to her home. They were very strict, but I had no idea how difficult it must have been for her until the day they closed the door on me. Do you think you can find her?”

“I could, but why not hire a private investigator yourself?”

“I sought you out because I know of the connections you have with people in that field. And I’d just feel better if you handled everything.”

“Very well. I’ve worked with a PI for years. He’ll make a search. As soon as I have any information, I’ll let you know.”

Wyatt got to his feet. “I can’t ask for more than that. Thank you very much. I gave your secretary my personal information.”

Mr. Derrick stood up and shook his hand. “I hope to have some news for you soon.”

Wyatt hoped so, too. His glance fell on a framed maxim hanging on the wall as he said goodbye and left the office.

While we are postponing, life speeds by.

—Seneca 3BC–65AD.

Life was speeding by.

During Wyatt’s ride to the airport in a taxi, he realized he should have seen about this problem plaguing him long before now. But at least he’d finally done something positive.

Perhaps the attorney wouldn’t be able to learn anything, but for the first time since Jenny’s parents had closed the door in his face, he had hope. Depending on what he learned, he’d confide in his grandfather, but until he had more information he’d keep this to himself.

An hour later he was winging his way back to Jackson Hole to pick up his car in the short-term parking and drive home to the ranch in Whitebark.

* * *

“HEY, MOM, HOW are you?” Alex Dorney was walking around her small Manhattan apartment getting ready to leave on another business trip.

“Well, I’m fine. How lucky to hear from my long-lost daughter!”

“Long-lost is right. I’m sorry, but I was knee-deep finishing up another deadline for the magazine when I was in Florida.”

“Since you’re back, come on home this weekend. We’ve missed you.”

Her family, including her married brother, Jeff, and his wife, Natalie, lived in Union, New Jersey. Alex’s father was the provost at the university there. Her parents’ home was only a half-hour drive from Alex’s apartment, but it might as well have been ten hours for the amount of time she’d been able to spend with her folks.

“I wish I could, but I’m all packed and leaving from JFK in a couple of hours to do another story.”

“Oh, no, honey. You never take a break these days.”

“I like work. Mr. Goff is a great boss who gives me the latitude to do stories as I see them.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but it’s not an answer. When are we going to see you next?”

“I didn’t mean to sound flippant.”

“I know, but I’m a mother who has the right to worry about you.”

Alex knew her parents had been concerned since her broken engagement. But that had been five years ago!

Her mom suffered because there was no man in her daughter’s life, but Alex didn’t care about that anymore. Not since her fiancé had told her she was too needy and ought to do something with her life besides wait around for him.

Ken Iverson had been six years older than Alex’s twenty-two. He was a corporate attorney in a growing local law firm. He’d just gotten back from being out of town and had flung the stinging rebuke at her during a heated moment when she’d asked how soon they should set their wedding date.

His words had burned into her brain. After saying she was going to take his advice, she’d removed the diamond ring he’d given her and gotten out of his car.

Once she was inside her parents’ home, she’d backed up against the closed door, vowing never to be accused of that again. He’d followed her from the car, but no amount of pleading on his part could get her to open it or crack the ice around her heart. She was so done it was scary.

“Where are you off to this time?”

“Colorado, then Wyoming.”

“Interesting. I’ve never been to Wyoming.”

“Nor I. The boss calls it flyover country.”

“Everyone has said that for as long as I can remember. What are you working on? Is it more exciting than my latest project?”

“Indubitably. Your stuff is dull as dust,” Alex teased, though it was the truth. Her mother wrote for different software companies who needed her technical expertise to describe their products. She was fabulous at it. “No offense intended, Mom.”

Her mother chuckled. “No offense taken.”

“When I get there and am settled into some saloon where they rent rooms upstairs, I’ll call and run it by you.”

“Wouldn’t that be funny, if there was such a place these days?”

“Very funny, Mom. I’ve got quite a bit of digging to do before I begin writing this one, and I don’t want to listen to the drunks below living it up after riding into town on their trusty steeds.”

“Maybe you should do a magazine spread on the Wild West of today.”

Alex laughed. She loved her mom, who had a great sense of humor. “I can promise that Rockwell Food Business Magazine won’t be putting out an article like that anytime soon.”

“With you on board, who knows?”

Another chuckle escaped. As a student, besides garnering many awards, Alex had been given the NYU Business and Economic Reporting scholarship by the New York Financial Writers Association. The merit-based competition had been open to any graduate or undergraduate student in the New York tristate area who’d been interested in business journalism.

In time, she’d been taken on as a featured writer for the prestigious Rockwell Magazine. One of her major objectives was to stay ahead of shifting national consumer purchasing patterns and attitudes. Many CEOs looked to their magazine for new trends.

Money had never been her god, but she had to admit it felt good to know she made more than Ken, whom she’d heard through her brother was no longer with the same firm and still a bachelor.

“When will you be back?”

“Let’s see.” She looked at her Disneyland wall calendar, given to her by her four-year-old niece, Katy, for Christmas. It hung below her framed graduate diploma in journalism from NYU. “Today’s Saturday, the third of September. I’ll be home in a week. That will be the tenth.”

“Perfect. Let us know what time you get in and we’ll pick you up at the airport. Plan to come home with us for a few days.”

Home sounded good. “I promise.”

“Text me once in a while.”

“You, too.”

“Stay safe.”

“Who, me? Ciao.”

After hanging up, she reached for the suitcase that held her laptop and digital recorder, then left the apartment. New York was experiencing sunny, seventy-five degree September weather. The wrong time to leave, but she had no choice.

Alex walked out to the street and waited until she saw a Yellow Cab with the middle two lights on the roof lit up. She called out, “Taxi!” The driver stopped. Alex made her way through the crowd and opened the back door. “JFK. Delta Airlines terminal.”

Part of her trip would involve interviewing sheep ranchers at Wool Growers Association conventions in Montrose, Colorado, and Casper, Wyoming. According to their websites, those organizations existed to preserve and promote the sheep and livestock industries in their states.

They would be good resources to help her start her investigation and obtain interviews. During her initial research, she’d picked up on a surprising trend in the demand for lamb. If it was a fluke, she needed to find out.

On the way to the airport, it hit her that, despite frequently traveling to new places, there was a sameness to her life. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t infusing her with a sense of excitement or fulfillment, either. She let out a deep sigh. Maybe she was asking too much of life.

* * *

“CHIEF POWELL? DO you have a minute?”

The head of the fire station in Whitebark, Wyoming, lifted his head. “Sure. Come on in.”

Wyatt entered the private office. “I’ve just gone off duty and wanted to remind you that I’m leaving for the mountains in the morning. I’ve already told Captain Durrant, so he knows not to schedule me for a week.”

The chief smiled. “So you’re off with the sheep.”

“Yup. It’s that time of year to bring the ewes down to the lower elevation.”

“Lots of work.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“The weather couldn’t be better.”

“I agree. Here’s hoping that at least eighty-five percent of the ewes are pregnant. The trick is not to lose any of them.” That included the thirty Hampshire stud rams.

“Take care, Wyatt, and good luck. See you when you get back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He left the station in his car and drove to the Fielding Sheep Ranch just a few miles east of Whitebark. After a grueling twelve-hour shift putting out a warehouse fire, he was starving.

Thank heaven for Martha Loveridge, the part-time housekeeper for Wyatt and his disabled grandfather, Royden. Two years ago, his tough old sheep-rancher grandfather had accidentally shot himself in the leg during a hunting trip with friends in the mountains.

Damage to two of the major muscles and a fracture of the left femur had resulted in a limp, even after physical therapy. Today he needed a cane to get around and couldn’t do all the activities he’d loved.

The Loveridges lived on the ranch to the south and had been friends of the Fielding family for years. Since the death of Wyatt’s grandmother, Martha had come over to help out. She always left enough food for lunch and dinner. He hoped it was a roast and was already salivating.

After this trip to the mountains, Wyatt planned to hire a permanent live-in housekeeper. Though they compensated Martha well, she was getting older and it was time to make the change.

He drove around the rear of the ranch house and parked his car in the garage. Then he backed his truck out so he could load all his gear for tomorrow’s journey.

The first thing he did after walking through the mudroom to the kitchen was lift the lid on the Crock-Pot. Mmm. Pot roast and potatoes. His grandfather’s beagle, Otis, pretty much on his last legs, came to greet him.

Wyatt scratched his silky head. The dog’s movements had alerted his grandfather that someone was in the house. Royden suffered from a certain amount of hearing loss.

“Wyatt?”

He served himself a plate, gave a few pieces to Otis, then walked into the living room where his grandfather was watching old reruns of Perry Mason from his favorite easy chair.

“I’m here, Grandad.” He sat down on the couch next to him. Otis planted himself at his owner’s feet.

“You had a long shift. Was it an arson case?”

“Nope. An electrical problem started a fire in the Olsen Warehouse.”

“How much damage?”

“Half the building gone. It could have been worse.” Wyatt looked over, knowing what was really on his grandfather’s mind. “Grandad? If you want, I’ll ask Martha to stay overnight while I’m gone.”

His grandfather made an arm motion that said forget that. “I’ll be fine. The only thing I’m praying for is that the ewes haven’t mixed with those from Les Nugent’s herd up there.”

“That’s what we pay Pali for.” Pali was their Basque sheepherder who lived in his camper at the seven-thousand-foot level. “Between him and his sheepdog, Gip, they’re as good as they come. You know that or you would never have hired him.”

“You’re right.” But his grandfather was never happy these days.

“I know you’re upset because you can’t go up with me.”

“Damn right I am! Who knows how many predators have been ambushing the flock.”

“Pali has a sharp eye and will be keeping count.”

“Those sheep are vulnerable to every wolf, mountain lion and coyote in The Winds.”

The Winds was what the locals called the Wind River Range here in west-central Wyoming. Hard to believe there was a time when Wyatt had hated these mountains, which were famous throughout the West. Had even been afraid of them.

“Anything else you need to tell me before I start loading up my gear?”

“Be sure you keep a few rams up at the ten-thousand-foot level to find the few ewes who failed to secure mates.”

“Will do.”

“And make sure they’re not mixing with the bighorns. We have enough trouble without transmitting bacteria from our domestic sheep to the wild ones.”

Wyatt knew it all by heart. He’d been taught by his grandfather, who was known as the expert in this part of the state. After finishing the last of his dinner, he got to his feet. “If that’s it for now, I’ll get started packing.”

He went upstairs to his bedroom to grab a few things, then began the laborious process of loading the truck.

Besides his US Geological Survey maps and cases of food and water, he had a ton of things to load for survival: a gas catalytic heater; tarps; a large tent and several pup tents, in case he needed to use one to nurse a sick ewe; a privy; a couple of sleeping bags; lanterns; matches; knives; medicine; his rifle and shot gun; ammo; binoculars; extra heavy clothing; boots; gloves; blankets; feed for the horses in case Jose brought them; fishing gear; cooking gear and his CB radio to communicate with ham radio operators in case of an emergency.

The next morning he was up at seven thirty to talk to Jose Rosario, the stockman-cum-foreman, who stayed on the ranch in a cabin located behind the ranch house with his wife, Maria.

Since Wyatt’s teens they’d lived here year-round and it was where they had raised their family. Lately Jose helped Wyatt’s grandfather by answering the business calls that came through and wrote messages for him. Wyatt asked him to be sure to take any calls for him while he was gone—hopefully one from Mr. Derrick. It had been a month. Maybe Jenny couldn’t be found...

By eight o’clock he’d put fresh food and water out for Otis. His grandfather was still in bed and had left his radio on all night at full volume. He could be a candidate for an implant. That was something Wyatt planned to talk to him about when he got back.

With everything done he could think of, Wyatt left the ranch. On his way out of town, he stopped at Hilda’s for breakfast and saw a couple of his firefighter buddies. They were in their turnout gear looking grubby. The poor guys must have just returned from a fire.

Porter Ewing called out to him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Up in the mountains on ranch business.”

“You lucky dog. On a day like this, I’d give anything to go with you.”

“Tell Captain Durrant and hop in the truck.”

“Don’t I wish. How soon will you be back?”

“In a week.”

“Call me. We’ll watch some football and get a card game going with Holden.” Holden was the sheriff, and another single guy always up for a game of cards.

“That’s a plan.”

Their only plan. They lived in a town of just over 1,300 people. Without a woman on the horizon who suited any of them, none of them had much else taking up their spare time except work.

* * *

AT THE JACKSON HOLE airport on Thursday, Alex rented a car and headed for Whitebark, an hour and a half away. She would be leaving for New York day after tomorrow, but had a free day ahead of her now. It was only one in the afternoon. In the morning she’d drive back to Jackson Hole and stay at the hotel she’d already booked. They provided limo service to the airport.

After spending time in Colorado gathering information, she’d flown to Casper to attend the Wyoming Wool Growers Association conference. The people there had been helpful. She’d gathered a lot of useful information. One rancher had told her the best sheep person to interview in the Cowboy State was Royden Fielding.

He hadn’t been able to attend the conference. However, they had his phone number on file. She could call him.

Alex had done just that and had ended up speaking to his ranch foreman, Jose. When she told him why she was calling he said, “If you wish to talk to Mr. Fielding, it will have to be in person. He’s a little hard of hearing and doesn’t do well over the phone.”

“Oh, I see. Would he be available if I come later today?”

“Of course.”

Hmm. That was easy. “I’ll need directions to his ranch.” The man had accommodated her and they’d hung up. Then she’d booked her ticket to Jackson Hole.

She bought a hamburger in town. While she ate, she made a reservation at the Whitebark Hotel for the night, then headed southwest on Highway 191 beneath a cloudy sky. It had been beautiful weather up to today.

Alex had thought she’d never seen anything as magnificent as the Teton Range of mountains from the air until she found herself looking at the Wind River Range ahead of her.

She let out a gasp at the sight of peaks knifing into the rarified atmosphere amidst pockets of snow. According to the brochure she’d picked up, one of them, Gannett Peak, was over 13,000 feet. This was the sheep country the man in Casper had been telling her about?

Though she lived in New Jersey, she traveled quite a bit for her job and was stunned by what she was seeing. Whoever called this flyover country had never once come down to earth and put his or her foot on Wyoming soil or smelled such clean air. She inhaled deeply, appreciating the rugged, primitive beauty all around her.

When she reached Whitebark, she followed Jose’s directions to the Fielding Sheep Ranch. Alex drove to the front of the two-story ranch house and got out. To her surprise, an older woman walked out onto the front porch.

“Ms. Dorney?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Martha Loveridge, the housekeeper. Jose said to expect you. Come inside. Mr. Fielding is excited for a visitor.”

“Well, thank you. I’m thrilled he would allow me an interview.”

She picked up her briefcase and followed Martha inside the house to the living room. It had a cozy, warm feeling.

“Please sit down. I’ll tell him you’re here. He’s hard of hearing, so look at him when you speak.”

She nodded. Jose had said the same thing.

While she waited, Alex walked around looking at the framed pictures of different couples and children at different ages on horseback. There were rodeo and formally posed pictures, too, propped on the end tables.

She stopped when she came to the eight-by-ten colored photograph on the mantel. An impossibly gorgeous male, probably in his late twenties, was wearing a firefighter’s dress uniform. His luxuriant black hair and blue eyes stole her breath.

Who was he?

Chapter Two

While Alex stared at the man in the picture, a little beagle came running in, sniffing at her.

“Oh...look at you.” She leaned over to pet him. “How cute.”

“Come back here, Otis,” a man’s voice sounded. She turned around to see who’d spoken. The housekeeper and a man with silver in his dark hair, probably in his seventies, had come into the room. He walked with a limp and used a cane.

“Martha? I thought you said Alex Dorney was out here.”

“This is Alex.” She smiled at Alex. “Meet Royden Fielding.”

The older man shook his head. “Whoever named you Alex was crazy. With that blond hair and the face of an angel, you’re the most beautiful sight ever to walk inside this house.”

His over-the-top compliment came as a total surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Fielding. My legal name is Alexis.”

“I still don’t like giving a man’s name to a woman. Where did you say you were from?”

“New Jersey.”

“Ah! That explains it. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

Alex smiled inside. She would love to know what that meant, but decided not to pursue it and did as he asked. The adorable dog lay at his feet.

“Jose told me you wanted to get some information from me. Why in blazes would a woman from New Jersey want to talk to me about sheep?”

She opened her briefcase and pulled out a recent issue of the magazine. Alex handed it to him. “I write for this publication.” She explained about wanting to stay ahead of national trends in the food business and what it meant for the economy. “The little research I’ve done tells me there’s a rise in the demand for lamb, which is unusual. I’m out here to find out why.”

“It’s about time,” he muttered.

Again she didn’t quite understand his meaning. “Go ahead and scan some of the articles.”

“I’ll read yours here on seafood consumption.” He spent ten minutes perusing it before looking up. “You really know what you’re about, don’t you? How come neither mutton nor lamb was even mentioned as a protein source?”

“I had to quote the information I was given from a graph quoting comparisons of meat and fish, but I’m puzzled, too. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here.”

“But I’m the wrong person to help you with the kind of information you need.”

“Why is that? The administration at the Wool Growers Association in Casper said you’re the person who has all the answers.”

He laughed. “They were just pulling your leg.”

Disappointment swept through her. Maybe her subject being hard of hearing made it more difficult to do an interview. “Mr. Fielding—”

“The name’s Royden.” He cut her off. “You want the nitty-gritty of this business? You need to talk to my grandson, Wyatt. That’s his picture on the mantel.”

Alex hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him since she’d entered the room. “But he’s in a firefighter’s dress uniform.”

“He’s a rancher and sheepman first. Wyatt knows it all. He ought to, since I taught him everything.” The man’s gray eyes twinkled.

Her spirits were suddenly lifted again, but she did wonder why he didn’t want her to interview him. “Would he be willing to talk to me?”

“He would, but he’s up in the mountains right now at his camp.”

“How soon will he be back?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “That’s when I have to return to New York. My flight is already booked.”

“I thought you were from New Jersey.”

“I am, but my apartment and the magazine office are in Manhattan. Could I phone him?”

“He’s beyond cell range. Can’t you stay longer?”

“I wish I could.”

“For you to come all the way out here for a story does you great credit, young lady.”

Alex laughed. She hadn’t been called that since she was a little girl.

“Tell you what. I’ll ask Jose to drive you up to the pasture right now. You’ll have to stay overnight.”

“But I’m not equipped.”

“Have you ever camped out?”

“A few times at the beach with my family.”

He shook his head. “Not the same thing, but don’t worry. Wyatt will have everything to accommodate you. Jose will go back for you tomorrow afternoon. That way you can get an interview with Wyatt before you have to fly home. He’ll give you some angles you hadn’t counted on.”

Mr. Fielding had just offered her a solution and she was going to take it, even if it meant roughing it for a night! She would have to call and cancel her hotel reservation.

“If Jose will do that for me, I’d be very grateful to him and you.”

“You sit tight while I give him a call. I’ll ask Martha to find my wife’s sheepskin-lined parka along with her cowboy boots and gloves. You look the same size as my Ida. She passed away two years ago.”

“Thank you.” She studied him for a minute. “I’m sorry you lost your wife.”

“So am I. When I shot myself by accident out hunting it brought on her fatal heart attack.”

Alex’s eyes closed tightly for a minute while she tried to take in the gravity of those tragedies. Despite the importance of following through on this assignment for the magazine, she had a feeling his life’s story would be more amazing than any information she could glean from his grandson about sheep.

* * *

BY LATE AFTERNOON the wind had picked up. Wyatt eyed the roiling clouds and noted the drop in temperature. By nightfall a storm would hit. He might have known the great weather couldn’t last. Thank heaven he and Pali had brought down the last third of their thousand head of sheep to the seven-thousand-foot area of scrubland. The Fieldings owned some of it and leased additional acres.

Wyatt would keep the sheep at this elevation until mid-November, then take them down to the irrigated fields where the ranch’s crops were grown.

Only three ewes had been lost. His grandfather would be ecstatic to hear about that. Tomorrow they’d have to examine each animal and take care of those needing immediate attention.

While Wyatt was straightening up his camp for the impending storm, Gip started barking. A minute later, Wyatt saw Jose’s white truck coming up over the ridge. He honked the horn. The noise brought Pali out of his trailer.

Wyatt’s heart failed him. Something must have happened to his grandfather, otherwise Jose wouldn’t be here. Unable to bear the thought, he headed toward the truck. But as he got closer, he saw that Jose wasn’t alone. He’d brought a blonde woman with him, maybe midtwenties. What in the hell?

When the truck stopped, she jumped down from the cab in jeans and a T-shirt. The cold wind that was growing stronger by the second molded the fabric to her beautiful body. She was also wearing his grandmother’s cowboy boots and carrying her parka, of all things.

His gaze traveled upward to her oval face with green eyes as lush as the patches of grass growing in the mountain passes. Her hair was cut in a cute, short style that the wind kept rearranging.

Gip ran over to Jose who got out of the truck and lowered a suitcase to the ground.

“I’ve brought you a visitor. This is Alex Dorney from back East. She came to the ranch to talk to the boss, but he sent her up here to see you. Since this storm is going to hit soon, I need to get back down the mountain. My kids are home for a few days. I’ll be back tomorrow to get her.” With those words of explanation, he got into the truck.

“Wait a minute!”

But Jose was too quick for him. Within seconds he’d started the engine and taken off.

Wyatt turned to the woman, who cocked her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fielding. Your grandfather said there was no service up here to alert you I was coming.”

The old man must he losing his mind!

Judging by her accent, this woman was a New Yorker. “He was right. We need to get you out of this wind before the downpour starts.” Noticing that Pali had gone to his camper with Gip, Wyatt grabbed her two cases and headed for his three-man tent.

She followed him inside. The roar of the wind tugging on the canvas told him this was no small mountain squall that would pass over in an hour. He knew in his gut they were in for the kind of violent early-fall storm he hadn’t seen for at least ten years.

* * *

THANK HEAVEN HE’D had the tent custom made with two entrances. The one could be used for emergencies, in case he was forced to cook on his old Coleman stove and needed the ventilation. He hadn’t used it this trip because he and Pali cooked in the trailer.

As for the heater, it had a hose connected to a hole in the tent that allowed ventilation to the outside. Because of the warm weather, Wyatt hadn’t bothered to set it up. Who would have thought he’d need any of the equipment this trip?

He lit a lantern and turned to her. “While you change into the warmest clothes you’ve brought, I have things to do, but I’ll be back. Make yourself comfortable.”

Wyatt reached for his parka and stepped out of the tent, zipping it up before he raced to his truck. He undid the tarp to unload the gear he hadn’t anticipated needing because he would have stayed with Pali. Already he could feel rain droplets. The deluge was about to start.

After making several trips to the tent, he’d grabbed everything necessary and retied the tarp. Just as he stepped inside, the heavens opened. When he glanced at his breathtaking visitor, she was sitting on his camp stool wearing his grandmother’s parka and Justin cowboy boots.

She looked up at him. “Your grandfather sent these clothes with me since I didn’t bring a coat. I didn’t think I’d need one with such beautiful weather everywhere.”

“The sudden change surprised me, too. That parka will keep you warm.”

“I’m sorry for just showing up like this. What can I do to make the situation better?”

He stifled a frustrated laugh and reached for the extra sleeping bag. After unrolling it, he pulled out the pillow tucked inside. Once he’d grabbed a blanket, he threw it and the pillow on the end of the bag.

“If you want to put your suitcase over here next to your sleeping bag, I’ll turn on the heater and warm up our dinner. Then we’ll talk.”

The fierce wind and rain didn’t let up. Wyatt had set up a temporary kitchen near the back opening with his food supplies and heated the coffee on his stove. “Sugar?”

“Yes, please.”

He dropped in two cubes and handed her a mug. The steam mixed with the flowery fragrance she’d brought inside the tent. She had moved the stool over to the end of the sleeping bag and brushed her hair. It gleamed a shimmering silvery blonde in the light of the lantern hanging from the ceiling of the tent. The wind gusts had grown worse, causing the lantern to swing.

To his dismay, his attention wandered to the pale yellow crewneck cotton sweater she’d put on beneath the parka. His gaze fell lower to her legs. The cowboy boots managed to accentuate the elegant length of her figure. He estimated she was five foot seven or so.

Still surprised to find himself in a small tent with a beautiful woman in the middle of a terrible storm, he got busy opening containers of biscuits and beef stew. When the meal was ready, he handed her a bowl of food and a spoon. She thanked him, and he sat down cross-legged on his sleeping bag while they ate.

“Do you think this storm is going to last long?”

Wyatt figured she must be terrified out of her wits, but she handled it with amazing calm. “I’m afraid it’s going to go on all night.”

“You’re kidding! But it’s only September!”

He got up to serve himself a second helping. “Ten years ago an early-fall storm swept through the Wind River Range unexpectedly. This feels just like it. I’m surprised my granddad sent you up here.” However unexpected the impending storm, a seasoned man like his grandfather must’ve known it was coming. Was the old man losing his touch?

“Your grandfather was anxious I get the chance to speak to you before I go home on Saturday. I’m certain he didn’t know.”

Wyatt hated to tell her this, but no one was going home on Saturday, or anytime soon. “Jose has worked for my grandfather for years in all kinds of weather. He must not have sensed how bad the coming storm is, or he would have refused to bring you.”

“I’m sure the last thing he wanted to do was drive me up here.”

Wyatt glanced at her. “He was just doing what my grandfather pays him to do. Would you like more stew or biscuits?”

“No, thank you. The food was delicious.”

He had to admit her polite manner warmed him. Wyatt glanced at his watch. Eight thirty. Before she went to bed she would need to go outside to the compost privy he’d set up in the one-man tent. But it was a little early for that. Wyatt got to his feet and put her bowl over by the makeshift kitchen area he’d set up with a little camp table. His custom-made tent had been enlarged on purpose to handle more gear.

“I have to talk to Pali, but I’ll be right back.”

After rummaging in his duffel bag for his hooded windbreaker, he put it on over his parka and let himself out of the tent, into the raging storm.

Wyatt ran against the powerful wind and stinging rain to Pali’s trailer. Gip must have heard him outside and barked, because his friend opened the door so he could get in fast. The two men stared at each other.

“We’re in for it this trip, Pali. Remember ten years ago?” Wyatt had been nineteen back then. Pali had been twenty-three.

The other man nodded. “Twenty-four inches of snow. We were stranded with the sheep for days.”

“Yup. It’s going to happen again.”

“Do you want the woman to stay in here? I can room with you.”

“Thank you, but I believe she’s nervous and probably won’t like being alone. I think it will be better if she sleeps in my tent tonight. Tomorrow could be a different story. Do you need anything before I go back to her? Thank God I brought plenty of food and supplies.”

“That’s good to know, but I’m fine.”

“All right. See you in the morning.”

He patted Gip’s head before facing the elements again. This time, icy shards of sleet attacked him. It was turning fast. There was going to be a storm the likes of which he suspected Alex Dorney had never experienced.

* * *

WRAPPED IN THE PARKA, Alex sat on the stool and drank another mug of coffee. It was great coffee, much better than she was used to, and she was comfortable enough because of the heater Wyatt had turned on. But she continued to shiver at the ferocity of the storm raging outside. If she didn’t know better, they could be on Mount Everest, which was a silly thing to think since she’d never been on any mountain.

She didn’t fear for her life. Royden Fielding’s grandson had already proved he was a breed apart from any man she’d ever met or known. She was convinced he could handle any situation and wouldn’t let anything happen to her. But home felt an eternity away and she was stuck up here with a total stranger who hadn’t asked for her company.

A man who didn’t have the right to be so impossibly gorgeous. Being a writer who made her living choosing the right words, Alex kept coming back to that particular adjective because no other synonym, like striking, attractive or handsome, adequately described him. She wondered if he was married. If so, he didn’t wear a ring, and his grandfather hadn’t mentioned a wife.

When he came back into the tent, removing his windbreaker and parka, she couldn’t decide which look she liked better—the firefighter in dress uniform or the hunky mountain man needing a shave. He wore a long-sleeved wool shirt and jeans that molded to his powerful thighs. The combination of disheveled raven-black hair and eyes that glowed blue was too much. Maybe the lack of oxygen really had affected her.

“Ms. Dorney? The privy tent is right around the side of this one. You can hold my windbreaker over your head while I take you out. Shall we go now?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

She’d been worrying about that. After she carried the mug over to the little kitchen camp table, he handed her the windbreaker to arrange before he put his parka back on. “The wind is gusting, so just hold on to my arm.”

“Oh—” she cried when she stepped out of the tent. The blizzard blew nonstop snow in her face. She might as well have been blind as he led her to the little tent he unzipped. After he handed her a flashlight, she managed to zip up the tent and do her thing. The whistle of the wind sounded so eerie, she was afraid she’d be carried off into the void.

In any other situation, she’d rather go through this alone, but at the moment she was thankful he was right there when she unzipped the flap again. He pulled her against his rock-solid body and zipped the tent closed, then held her around the waist until they reached the entrance to the big tent. The warmth and safety of it and him, felt like heaven.

He took the windbreaker and shook off some of the snow before zipping them inside. Alex walked over to the heater and knelt in front of it for a minute.

“More coffee?”

“No, thank you. I think I’d better not.”

“Smart girl.”

“More like desperate.”

When she stood up, she found him smiling. It warmed every ounce of her body. The high altitude couldn’t be blamed this time for turning her legs into traitors.

“Here I thought I’d be staying overnight in a saloon with rooms upstairs when I drove into Whitebark.”

“And a bunch of rowdy cowhands throwing a week’s pay at you for the chance to be up there with you?”

She laughed. “Something like that.”

One black brow lifted wickedly. “The place exists.”

Her smile faded. “I’d rather be here with you.” Her voice throbbed. “Thank you for helping me. I know I was the last thing on earth you expected to see arrive with the storm.”

His hands went to his hips in an unconscious male stance that made him even more desirable. Utterly desirable. “You’re right about that, but I admire your calm.”

“Thank you.”

Those piercing blue eyes played over her. “This has been a long day for both of us. Can I get you anything before I turn off the lantern?”

The lines of his rugged features fit the outdoor life that made him so extraordinary. “Maybe some ear plugs,” she teased. The roar of the elements was almost deafening.

“That’s probably the only thing I didn’t bring with me.”

“So I’ve noticed. ‘Everything but the kitchen sink’ has taken on new meaning.”

A chuckle escaped his lips.

Alex took a deep breath. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for putting up with me when you didn’t have a choice. No unwanted visitor was ever treated with better care. I’m ready for bed now.” Though she couldn’t imagine sleeping with the wind threatening to lift the tent off the ground. She’d worry about brushing her teeth tomorrow.

“The heater will go off and on during the night, but you’ll stay warm.”

This cowboy took care of everything. She removed the parka and laid it over the end of the sleeping bag where she’d spread out the blanket. After sitting on the stool to take off the cowboy boots, she climbed in and curled up on her side while she watched him.

In an economy of movement he tidied the kitchen area. To her surprise he walked over and handed her a bottle of water. “You might get thirsty during the night anyway.”

The “anyway” brought more laughter to her lips. His sense of humor shouldn’t have come as a surprise, not after meeting his grandfather.

“There should be another word besides thank-you.”

His eyes searched hers for a quiet moment before he reached up and turned off the lantern. The moaning of the wind drowned out any noise he made getting ready for bed. It was the loneliest sound in the world. But with him inside the tent, she knew a strange contentment that was foreign to her.

“Ms. Dorney?” came his voice out of the darkness.

“Please, call me Alex.”

“All right, Alex. I’m waiting to hear what was so important my grandfather sent a woman fresh from the Big Apple up to sheep country.”

“I work for Rockwell Food Business Magazine, based in Manhattan as a contributing writer.”

“I read it regularly.”

She sat up. “You do?”

“It and a dozen other publications that keep abreast of news in the meat industry. Depending on how long you’ve been writing for them, I might have read one of your articles.”

His grandfather’s words rang in her head. Among other things, he’s a sheepman and knows it all.

Alex lay back down, surprised by her own stupidity. Everything was making sense, including the fact that his grandfather read her article thoroughly before asking questions.

“Last Saturday I flew out to Colorado to talk to some sheep ranchers at the Wool Growers Association convention in Montrose. After a few days I flew to Casper to attend a similar convention there. The people in charge told me the best person to ask for information was Royden Fielding.”

“Grandad would have liked to be there, but he needed me to take him, and I had to be up here.”

If he had attended that convention, Alex would have met both of them there. But it hadn’t happened that way. The thought of not meeting Wyatt Fielding bothered her in a way she didn’t understand.

“I called and set up an interview this morning, then flew to Jackson Hole.”

“And you were spared having to spend a wild night in Whitebark.”

She smiled. “Being up here on a mountain with sheep, fighting rain and gale-force winds, is what I’d call the real Wild West. I came to pick your brains about lamb.”

He burst into that rich kind of male laughter she loved. “Before I knew you wrote for that particular magazine, I thought you might be a photographer my grandfather sent up so you could get some spectacular photographs of the mountains.”

“There’s a thought.” She clutched the pillow. “So, when do you fight fires?”

“Several times a week when I’m back in town. But I also have a ranch to run.”

“Your grandfather wasn’t exaggerating about you.”

“He always exaggerates,” he corrected her.

She could believe it, but she also knew that for Royden the sun rose and set with his grandson. “Before we say good-night, do you mind telling me what you did today before I arrived?”

“Is this for research?”

“Yes.” Well, that and she wanted to know everything about him.

“We brought down the last four hundred head of ewes and rams over rough mountain terrain and streams from the ten-thousand-foot level where they’ve spent the summer. Once we start down, they wander off if you’re not chasing them every second. They get lost, caught in shrubs and trees, nearly drown and can fall off cliffs on the way.

“Considering the ewes are pregnant, that makes the journey down more treacherous. If the lamb lovers of this world knew what we go through, they’d pay us billions for the privilege of being served lamb chops and roasts at the dinner table.”

“Can I quote you on that?”

“Why not? Now, I don’t know about you, Alex, but I’m exhausted. Let’s sleep on the subject, and tomorrow I’ll answer all your questions after we have breakfast and I check the herd with Pali.”

He had to be worse than exhausted. She turned on her other side, away from him, so she wouldn’t be tempted to talk anymore. Alex’s mind filled with pictures of him chasing her instead of sheep all over creation, until oblivion took over.

Chapter Three

Lamb.

Wyatt’s tired body shook with silent laughter. He knew where this woman had come from and why. But he didn’t understand his grandfather’s agenda.

Had he really not known a blizzard of this magnitude was coming? For that matter, Jose had taken off so fast, his swift exit seemed orchestrated.

Wyatt knew his grandparents had worried about him since high school. A month ago he’d told the whole story to his attorney. Was it possible the private investigator he’d hired could find Jenny? Had the miscarriage ruined her life?

How did her parents live with themselves after hiding their daughter where Wyatt couldn’t find her? How could they have left Whitebark without telling anyone where they were going? The cruelty of never seeing or hearing from her again had astounded him.

But maybe now he’d be given some information. After eleven years, he prayed to God for some closure on what had happened to Jenny.

His grandparents had hoped and prayed he’d meet another girl. Of course he’d met a lot of them, but no relationship had touched his heart.

Now, suddenly, a beautiful woman had been deposited at his sheep camp, unprepared and unequipped, relying totally on him for her survival. If this really was orchestrated by his granddad, Wyatt didn’t know the man had such a devious streak. The more he thought about it, though, he didn’t buy that this was a mere coincidence.

If this was his grandfather’s scheme, then Wyatt couldn’t fault the magazine writer who’d played into his grandfather’s hands by accident. The innocent woman who slept across the tent from him had been the ideal pawn.

Talk about the perfect storm.

* * *

WHEN WYATT WOKE UP the next morning, he pulled on his parka and boots. Alex was still asleep. Looking outside the tent, he was reminded of his last thought the night before. This perfect storm had created a white world! Without the driving wind, quiet reigned, but the snow still fell.

Wyatt stepped outside and whistled. His truck was more than half-buried. He walked with difficulty in the thigh-deep snow. Pali’s trailer was barely visible. Imagining that his friend was busy digging out, he went back to the tent for the shovel and started to make a path to the privy tent. Alex would need it when she awakened.

As he came back to the entrance, he almost bumped into her. Their eyes fused.

“Mr. Fielding—good morning.”

“It’s Wyatt. I think we’re long past formalities.”

She nodded. “I can’t believe all this snow! I never saw anything so beautiful in my life. Maybe this trip will make a photographer out of me. But how do the sheep handle waking up to this wonderland when they can hardly move?”

“Much better than we humans.”

“Why is that?”

He kept shoveling as they talked. “Is this the writer asking, or just curiosity?”

“Both.”

She had a forthright personality he liked. “Sheep have some very effective ways of keeping warm. Their wool insulates them, holding in body heat and resisting the penetration of water. You’ll see snow on their backs. The reason it doesn’t melt right away is because the body heat is kept in by the fleece. In addition, they’re ruminants.”

“What does that mean?”

“They chew on their cuds and have four-chambered stomachs. This process generates a lot of heat. The more forage a ruminant eats, the more heat its body produces.

“Our pregnant ewes, in which growth of the fetus results in heat production, stay even warmer as their pregnancy progresses. In fact, ewes carrying multiple fetuses have to increase their respiratory rate just to get rid of body heat. This is one of the reasons they benefit from shearing during the last six weeks of gestation.”

“I had no idea.”

“Keeping the sheep outside during the winter benefits both them and me. They need the ventilation and increased exercise. Most of the cases of respiratory disease that I have to treat occur in animals that are housed in a barn during cold weather.”

“Why is that?”

“The cause is the buildup of moisture and ammonia in the air. It damages the lining of the respiratory tract, interfering with its resistance to infection. Worse, the stale, humid air transmits viruses and bacteria into the airways. This combination of factors leads to coughing, sinus infections, bronchitis and pneumonia.”

“Kind of like children in a day care center.”

“Exactly. Sheep that live outdoors breathe fresh, drier air and aren’t exposed to fumes. Bronchitis and pneumonia in these animals is rare. That’s a plus for me. I have fewer sick sheep and don’t have to keep the barn clean.”

Happy laughter rippled out of her. She threw her head back to catch some snowflakes on her tongue. The tiny action produced an unexpected spark of desire that flared through him. He didn’t like what was happening to him.

“The path to the bathroom has been cleared for you. While you’re gone, I’ll fix some food. Would you like pancakes, bacon, eggs?”

“All of the above and your delicious coffee. What kind is it?”

“Pali gets it from his Basque relative who runs a coffeehouse in Livingston, Montana. She roasts Arabica beans that are shade grown.”

“It’s the best! When I return, I’ll help you.”

After he went back inside, he got busy cooking. Pali would be pleased Alex had shared that compliment. He decided to make enough food for Pali to join them. The less time he spent alone with Alex, the better for his peace of mind.

“Mmm. Something smells good.” She’d come back inside.

“Do me a favor and warm this bacon. It’s fully cooked already. I’m going to find Pali and ask him to eat with us.”

She squinted at him. “You trust me?”

“I don’t know. You don’t cook?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“No matter. Would you rather go get him?”

“Not if you don’t want to perform an emergency rescue.”

“The trailer is only a few hundred feet away.”

“In this snow, it looks a mile. Don’t worry. I’ll try not to burn it. I did do a little cooking when our family roughed it at the beach.”

“What beach was that?”

“The Jersey Shore.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He went outside and started trudging through the snow. As he got halfway there, Pali appeared outside the camper. “Hey, Pali! Come on over to the tent for breakfast.”

“Yeah?” A smile broke out on his weatherworn face.

“Yeah. Bring Gip.”

“So you got yourself a cook.”

He knew where this conversation was headed and cut it off right there. “She’s a food magazine writer from New York who wants to know why there’s a demand for lamb and where it’s headed. My grandfather sent her up here, no doubt thinking it would be a good experience for her to see the sheep in their natural habitat.”

Pali shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense when he had to know this storm was coming.”

Wyatt couldn’t have agreed more, but had considered keeping his thoughts to himself. He should’ve known Pali would pick up on the strangeness of their situation. His grandfather had been up to something to send her up here. “I’ll see you in a minute,” he called, then trudged through the snow to the tent, stepping in the tracks he’d already made.

Alex looked around when he entered. “Isn’t he coming?”

“He’ll be here soon.” Wyatt walked over to her. “I don’t smell smoke.”

“Being a firefighter, too, I guess you’d know if there’d been a fire in here.”

Yup. But he had news for her. There’d been one set already. It had started last evening when she’d arrived. He’d felt an instant attraction and it had brought a wave of heat more intense than any fire he’d fought with his buddies.

They heard barking. Wyatt undid the zipper and Pali came in, shedding his parka. The dog padded over to Alex who leaned down to pet him. Then she smiled at Pali. “Why don’t you sit on the stool to eat?”

“Thank you.”

She poured him a mug of coffee and handed it to him. “I was just telling Wyatt how much I love this coffee. He told me you get it from a relative in Montana. Do you think I could order some when I go back to New York?”

That was the second time she’d talked about going home. Why that bothered Wyatt, he didn’t want to venture a guess.

“I will make sure of it.”

“That’s wonderful.”

She made plates for Wyatt and Pali, and one for herself. Then she sank down on her sleeping bag and fed a piece of bacon to Gip who looked like he was in heaven as he gobbled it.

“How did you happen to come to the US, Pali?” The writer was at it again.

“I was born on a little farm in Orbaizeta, known for its cheese made from the milk of the Latxa sheep. But there’s little money to be made at home, so I left and went to Nevada where I had friends. It was there I discovered there was an opening in Whitebark for a shepherd, so here I am, and I stayed.”

“That was my grandfather’s lucky day,” Wyatt interjected.

“I bet you miss your family.”

“Yes. I go back four times a year to visit, but I’m very happy here. You’re a good cook.”

“Thank you, but all I did was warm the bacon without burning it. Wyatt’s the one who deserves the honors.”

“I think you do, too, for making the most out of being here in a snowstorm.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“I understand you’re a food magazine writer.”

“Yes. I’m writing a story on the mutton and lamb industry and the reason for the costs. Tell me—do you eat a lot of lamb in your native country?”

“Some lamb stew. But mostly we like blood sausage made from the sheep. We fill them with blood and dry them before adding the rest of the sausage filler.”

She made such a funny sound. “For me that would be an acquired taste, I think.”

Wyatt chuckled.

“Some things worth relishing start out that way.” Pali shot Wyatt a glance with a knowing grin. He’d just sent a message that penetrated the skin and went deep. Wyatt’s grandfather had made a big mistake, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now.

The hell of it was, a part of him didn’t want to change a thing.

* * *

ALEX SIPPED THE last of her coffee as Pali got up and put his plate and mug on the camp table. “Thank you for the meal. Gip and I are going to take a look around and see if any of the sheep are in trouble.”

“I’ll go with you.” Wyatt followed suit, then the two men put on their parkas and gloves.

“I’ll clean up,” Alex offered, needing to be practical, considering the situation. Wyatt flashed her a glance from under sooty black lashes. She smiled. “I do know how to do that.”

“Terrific. I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone, but you have everything here you need.”

He was right. Everything and everyone she could ever want or need was right here. Who would have thought she would have to fly thousands of miles and end up on a mountain in a blizzard for the ice around her heart to melt? “I’ll be fine.”

His blue gaze swept over her. “When I get back you can interview me.” The men stepped outside, but the dog whined and wouldn’t leave.

“Gip!” Pali called to him. “My dog knows a good thing when he sees it. He’ll be begging for food from now on.”

Alex laughed. “See you later, Gip.” The intelligent dog answered with a bark and left the tent.

She stood outside on the path Wyatt had made and watched until they were out of sight. There was still cloud cover, but the snow was slowing down. One look at Wyatt’s barely visible truck and she wondered how they would ever leave. Jose had said he’d be up to get her later today, but that wouldn’t be possible.

Alex went back inside to do the dishes and straighten the tent. How strange to be doing domestic work like this. Not her normal regimen.

Since the whole area must have awakened to the results of this storm, Wyatt’s grandfather would be fully aware of their situation. Being the ultra sheepman, he would know everything had come to a standstill. But probably no one knew how long they would be stranded.

That realization filled her with an excitement she hadn’t known in years. Alex would welcome all the extra time given her to get to know Wyatt Fielding better.

Taking advantage of her privacy, she warmed some water. After a quick sponge bath, she brushed her teeth and also gave her hair a good brushing. Then she put on a pair of her designer jeans and a clean blouse. For want of an extra sweater, she wore the same yellow crewneck with it.

Once she found the recorder in her suitcase, she sat down on the stool and talked into it about what she’d learned from Wyatt so far. When he returned, she’d get his voice recording.

While she waited for him, she prepared a list of questions on her laptop. In Casper, she’d made several recordings with experts. Alex listened to them now and planned to discuss what she’d already learned to see if Wyatt was in agreement or not.

When three hours had passed, she put her things aside and went out to the privy. After coming back, she washed her hands, then took stock of the food supplies. Wyatt had stacked canned goods against the rear wall of the tent. The tortillas and ground beef stood out and she decided to make tacos for lunch.

After putting the cleaned skillet back on the little stove, she popped open a can and poured in the beef to heat it. She would use the smaller pan to warm the tortillas. Then she made a fresh pot of coffee.

Before long she heard voices outside the tent and looked toward the opening. She was thrilled to see Wyatt walk inside.

“Sorry you were left so long.”

“No problem. I have lunch ready.”

“Give me five minutes to set up one of my pup tents outside—we have an injured ewe. Then I’ll be back.”

Wyatt grabbed the shovel and went back out. A minute later he returned and walked over to a corner where he kept a lot of gear. He carried a tent bag on his shoulder with careless male grace.

She stepped outside to watch him set it up. Then he walked over to the camper. In a minute, he and Pali came from that direction carrying the injured sheep and put it inside. Next, Wyatt returned to the larger tent with the shovel before he reached for a small satchel and went back out. Before long he came in and took off his parka.

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