Ranch Rescue

Ford Marshall returns to Wyoming temporarily to help his brothers run the Circle M. He’s looking forward to some hard work, but also peace and quiet—until Caroline Donnelly hijacks his ranch for her program to help troubled teens.

Now he’s got unruly kids to deal with, a thousand chores and a growing attraction to Caroline that he isn’t sure he wants to deny. But Ford has nothing to offer a hometown girl. He has to return to his job in the city at some point soon—his brothers depend on that outside income to keep the ranch afloat. So why can’t Ford get the idea of a Wyoming wife, and coming home for good, off his mind?

He gazed at her in the cool blue twilight.

“You don’t live out at your dad’s ranch these days?”

“Um...no. I have a place in Bisons Creek, the top floor of the old Curry house. Remember it?”

“Sure. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought you’d be living at home.”

“No, Ford. I grew up and moved out.”

His jaw tightened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“Like you are?”

He held his hands out from his sides. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re clearly not happy to be showing me around. I was going to apologize, but that’ll take more of your valuable time.” She jolted down the steps and stalked past him.

“Caroline, wait. Caroline!” Ford caught up with her, grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Don’t run away.”

Breathing hard, she glared at him. “I am not running away. I’m trying to give you the distance you so obviously want.” She hated that saying it hurt enough to sting her eyes with tears. “Let. Me. Go.” She jerked her arm, trying to get free.

His fingers didn’t loosen around her wrist. “I’m not letting go, so calm down. It’s like fighting with a butterfly.”

She stopped, appalled. “I am not a butterfly.”

“No, you’re a really beautiful woman who’s driving me crazy.”

Her jaw dropped open in shock. She closed it, then swallowed hard. “What did you say?”

Dear Reader,

One of the best parts of writing fiction is being able to create the setting for your characters. You can put them into a world of glitz and glamour or, as I prefer, into a small town at the foot of Wyoming’s Big Horn Mountains. You can make them cowboys with horses to ride and cattle to herd and a ranch to take care of spread out under the wide blue sky of the high plains. You can write about the importance of family and friends, community and faith, commitment and integrity. And there’s nothing sexier than a man in jeans, boots and a cowboy hat.

Take the Marshall brothers—four cowboys bound by their ties to each other and to the land. There’s trouble on the Circle M Ranch this summer and it will take all of them, working together, to handle it. Ford’s story unfolds in A Wife in Wyoming, as he reconnects with the hometown girl he never forgot. He wasn’t good enough for Caroline Donnelly in the old days, but he’s changed. And so, it turns out, has she. Will those changes bring them closer together, or push them further apart?

I hope you enjoy getting to know the Marshalls and their world. I love to hear from readers—please feel free to send a note to PO Box 204, Vass, NC 28394, or contact me through my website, lynnettekentbooks.com.

As ever,

Lynnette Kent

A Wife in Wyoming

Lynnette Kent

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LYNNETTE KENT lives on a farm in southeastern North Carolina with her six horses and six dogs. When she isn’t busy riding, driving or feeding animals, she loves to tend her gardens and read and write books.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

There was trouble on the Circle M Ranch, and Ford Marshall had come to take care of it. His brothers were doing their best, but when problems arose, the four Marshall boys handled them together. Always had, always would.

Ford had driven more than a thousand miles in the past two days, with only the last fifty left to go. Still, he pulled over at the top of the final descent, got out of the truck and went to stand on the edge of a five-hundred-foot drop. He stared down at the Powder River Valley laid out below, where the slopes of the Big Horn Mountains gave way to rolling, grass-covered plains. The landscape was as familiar to him as the palm of his hand, and just as vital.

How long, Ford wondered, since he’d enjoyed this view?

Fifteen years, probably—the summer after high school graduation, when he’d helped herd cattle down to lower pasture before heading off to college. He’d returned to visit since, but not at this time of year. Summer jobs, classes, internships, law school...he’d been busy then, and he’d been even busier since he’d joined one of the biggest firms in San Francisco and started working his way up.

For now, though, he was home—not forever, not even for the whole summer. But with time enough to stand here as the sun set behind him, tinting the valley blue and purple. Time enough to pull the fresh air into his lungs and listen to the evening breeze rustle through the pines.

Time. The one commodity he didn’t have in his portfolio these days.

Ford headed back to the truck, started the engine and eased onto the empty highway, heading downhill. His law partners weren’t happy about the leave of absence. His clients... Hell, his clients were furious. He’d jeopardized his career—plus the security and status it provided—to take these weeks off.

But family came first. And so he coasted down from the mountains and breezed south out of Buffalo toward their little town of Bisons Creek, where he headed up the county road to the one place that he still, after all these years away, called home.

* * *

AT THE HOUSE the screened front door stood wide open to the night air. Ford crossed the porch and stepped into the dark living room. “Anybody home?”

A woof! and the scrabble of dog claws on the plank floor announced the approach of Honey, the chubby golden retriever who’d been the ranch’s top dog for the past ten years.

“Hey there, Honey Bear.” He bent to ruffle her ears and scratch her along her spine as she circled in front of him, panting with delight. “Yeah, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

Boot heels thudded down the hall from the rear of the house. “It’s about time you showed up.” His brother Garrett gave him a fake slug to the jaw before closing him into a bear hug. “We’ve got a million questions about this insurance stuff that nobody will answer. How was your drive?”

“Fine.” Ford drew back and lifted an eyebrow. “Where’s the boss?”

Garrett tilted his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Sulky as a bear. I’d go in with a rifle, if I were you.”

“When’s dinner?”

“When you make it.”

“Just like the old days.” Ford had started cooking for their motherless family when he was ten. “Let me talk to Wyatt first. And can we turn on some lights in this house?”

“Leave it to you to get us organized.” Garrett flipped a switch and the living room became visible. Welcoming.

“That’s better.” As Ford started toward his older brother’s room, Honey slipped ahead of him to lead the way. The lights were off at the far end of the hall, which was strange so early in the evening. Who the hell was running this place?

He reached for a lamp just inside the bedroom door and switched it on. “Hey, Boss. No self-respecting rancher is asleep at 8:00 p.m.”

“No self-respecting rancher gets thrown from a horse, lands on his butt and breaks his damn back.” Wyatt put up a hand from where he lay flat in bed. “Welcome home.”

His brother’s hearty grip allowed Ford to relax a little. “Thanks.”

But Wyatt was frowning. “You didn’t have to leave your job, though. Garrett and Dylan are managing okay.”

“Yeah, right,” Garrett said from the door. “The two of us finish about half of what you did on your own in a single day. No problems there.”

“The work’ll get done.”

“It will get done faster with more hands to help.”

There was an edge to his brother’s tone, and Ford gathered they’d had this argument before. “We’ll manage the chores, one way or the other. Right now I’m more interested in food. What do you feel like, Wyatt?”

“I’m not hungry.” He’d turned his face toward the TV flickering in the corner.

“You’re always hungry.”

“Not when I spend the whole damn day in bed.” A metal brace was sprawled across the dresser, conspicuously unused.

“Okay. I’ll figure it out and bring you a plate.”

“Don’t bother.”

In the kitchen Ford raised an eyebrow as he met Garrett’s eyes. “How long has he been this way?”

“Ten days since he came home from the hospital. Won’t take the pain pills they gave him, just lies there except when he has to pee.”

“I should have been here sooner.” He moved toward the refrigerator. “You should have called right away.”

“I didn’t know the injury would get him so down.”

Ford pulled four T-bone steaks out of the freezer and headed for the oven. “He won’t use the brace?”

“I can’t convince him to put it on. I guess he’s planning to lie in bed until he stops hurting.”

“Not a chance. We’ll get him on his feet. Right now find me some potatoes.”

In thirty minutes he’d prepared four steak dinners, the task as familiar as if he still did it every night, instead of twice a year. He debated cutting Wyatt’s meat up, but decided he didn’t want the food thrown at him.

He returned to his brother’s room. “Dinner’s ready.”

“I said I’m not hungry.” But Wyatt’s stomach betrayed him, gurgling loud enough to be heard outside the house.

Ford laughed. “I know the truth when I hear it. Come out and eat at the table like a man.”

His older brother glared at him from under lowered brows. “You’re making trouble.”

“You’re being a pain in the butt.”

Wyatt swore, loudly, but he rolled to the side of the bed and then off, landing carefully on his knees. Pushing up with his hands, he straightened his legs before he could finally lever his top half upright.

Ford picked up the metal brace. “That’s quite a process.”

Wyatt muttered something unintelligible and presented his back. With a few fumbles, Ford got the brace over his brother’s head and settled it on his shoulders with the straps fastened tight.

“There ya go.”

At that moment the screen door in the front of the house slammed. “Got some food somewhere?” Dylan called. “I’m starving.”

As Wyatt walked stiffly into the bright kitchen light, the youngest Marshall gave a whistle. “Look at you, Boss. We’ll have you in the saddle in no time.” He walked toward Ford. “So you finally came home. I’ve got a horse with your saddle on it out in the corral.” Then he came in for a hug. “Welcome back,” he said in a low voice, which Ford understood meant we need you.

“Yep,” Ford said, meaning I’ll take care of everything. He slapped Dylan on the shoulder. “Let’s eat.”

For a while the only sounds were chewing and swallowing as the four of them dug into their steaks. Ford took the opportunity to study each of his brothers, assessing changes since his last visit. Dylan, with his dark brown hair worn a little long and a sensitive curve to his mouth just like their mother’s, still looked young enough to be in college, though he’d graduated five years ago. Garrett’s hair was a lighter brown and neatly styled, probably to please his church congregation. Right now his blue eyes were shadowed and a little strained—he’d always been the worrier. Wyatt shared Dylan’s brown eyes and Garrett’s hair, cut in the practical, no-fuss way he’d worn for years. Age never told on Wyatt’s face; he looked pretty much the same at thirty-four as he had at twenty-four...except tired this time. Was it his injury, or was something else going on?

Ford would find out sooner or later. No need to push the issue. “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” he asked instead, which brought to order the usual dinner table board meeting for Marshall Brothers, Incorporated. Details for moving cattle, fences to be checked and machinery to get tuned up came under review, as always.

Only Wyatt hardly said a word.

“So what do you think, Boss?” Ford pushed his empty plate away and looked at his brother.

Wyatt glanced up from his plate. “What do I think about what?”

“We decided we’d flood the eastside pastures, grow our own brand of Wyoming rice.”

The oldest Marshall set down his fork and knife with a clank. “That’s the stupidest idea I ever heard of. Rice won’t grow...” He noticed the grin on Ford’s face and frowned. “What’s your point?”

“That you’re not listening. Or eating much.”

“I’m not doing much. No reason to eat.”

The preacher in the family propped his elbows on the table. “Can’t you view this as a vacation? You’re always saying you don’t get a chance to read. When did you last take a day off?”

Ford answered the question. “When he was fourteen, maybe. Before Dad died.”

Garrett nodded. “Twenty years without a break?”

Wyatt shook his head. “I get plenty of downtime. I don’t need a vacation. I need to get back to work.”

Dylan clucked his tongue. “Well, that’s not happening in the immediate future. The doctor wants you quiet for at least three months.” He leaned his chair back, balancing on the two rear legs. “And since you’re staying still for a change, I want to do some sketches, work up plans for a life-size carving of your head. I found a piece of petrified pine that would be perfect.”

Wyatt’s frown evolved into an expression of horror. “I don’t want a statue of me sitting around somewhere for people to stare at. Next thing I know, you’ll be exhibiting me in one of your art shows. Keep your chair on the floor.”

The chair clattered as Dylan straightened up. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I suppose you’d also suggest I spend less time carving and more time doing meaningful work?”

“As a matter of fact, I might.”

Cheeks flushed, brown eyes blazing, Dylan got to his feet. “Well, as a matter of fact, I might tell you to go to hell.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Dylan—”

But the youngest Marshall stomped out of the room without listening. The slap of the screen door announced that he’d left the house. And he’d broken one of the cardinal rules—leaving his plate on the table for someone else to carry to the kitchen.

Wyatt passed a hand over his face. “I can’t seem to say the right thing to him anymore.”

Ford stacked Dylan’s plate on top of his own. “Would a statue be so bad?”

Wyatt glared at him from under lowered brows. “Why don’t you model for him?”

“Maybe I will.” Ford struck a pose with the dishes balanced on one hand. “You could stand it in the corner and tip your hat every time you walk by me. We’ll put a plaque on the pedestal—Ford Marshall, Renowned Attorney.”

“That’ll be the day.” Garrett walked around to pick up Wyatt’s plate. “We’re more likely to turn your face to the wall and aim a swift kick at your butt when you’re not here to help out.”

Ford led the way into the kitchen. “Spoken like a true man of the cloth. I thought ministers were supposed to be kind and gentle with their flocks.”

“Brothers are exempted from that rule. Besides, I’ll bet you haven’t been to church since you were last here. Am I wrong?”

“Just can’t find a preacher in San Francisco as good as you.”

“Right. I believe that one. Well, plan on getting up tomorrow morning and heading into town, because around here the Marshalls still show up in the pew on Sunday morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Garrett took the dishcloth out of Ford’s hand. “You cooked. I’ll clean up. Go talk to the boss. Maybe get him outside for a few minutes.”

“Right.”

He found Wyatt where they’d left him, sitting alone in the dining room, staring at his bottle of beer. “Want to take a walk? It’s a pretty night.”

“I was thinking about going to bed.”

“Me, too. But I want to stretch my legs first. Come on.” He took hold of the chair and pulled it away as Wyatt stood up.

A sound very close to a growl came from Wyatt’s throat. “I can manage my own damn chair.”

“I’m sure you can. Want me to shove it into the backs of your knees? Then we could have a wrestling match, like we used to, and you could beat the snot out of me, like you used to. Would that make you feel better?”

Wyatt snorted a laugh. “Probably.”

“Not me, though.” They walked through the house, out the front door and down the three porch steps, with Ford pretending that he wasn’t on guard in case something happened, and Wyatt pretending he didn’t realize what Ford was doing. Out in the open, they both took a deep breath.

“I swear my lungs can’t fill up all the way when I’m in the city,” Ford said. “The air’s just too thick, too heavy.”

“I know what you mean.” Wyatt lifted his face as far as the brace permitted. “The mountains, the grasslands...the pure space of it all gives a man enough room to stretch out and live. I’m surprised, that you stay in the city as long as you do.”

“That’s where the work is. Not many prospects for a high-powered law practice in Bisons Creek.”

“Guess not. Wyoming’s got its share of corporate lawyers these days, though, what with the oil and coal companies all over the place. And we never run out of bad guys looking for a defense lawyer. Never stop needing prosecutors to punish them, either.”

“Of course not.” Ford stared up at the Wyoming stars, the familiar constellations in their early-summer formations, twinkling like far-off candles against the black velvet sky. “I’ll keep it in mind, if I decide to shift gears.” He let a silence fill with the sounds of nearby crickets and the whisper of the wind. “Everything going all right on the Circle M?”

The boss didn’t answer right away. “With ranching, there’s always something going wrong,” he said at last. “Cattle prices are down, the grass-fed market demand is slow. Winter lasted longer than usual, so we’re late moving herds into the higher pastures. The Forest Service has limited the parcels we can use, which means fattening up these early steers is gonna be harder.” He blew a rueful snort. “Same stuff, different day.”

“Well, my investments are sound, the dividends are high and we’ve got a solid buffer in place. If you have cash flow problems, just let me know.”

“Sure.” Wyatt’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Mostly, we’re just glad to have you here, Ford. Thanks for making the effort.”

“The Marshalls stick together,” Ford told him, meeting his brother’s dark gaze with his own. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

* * *

FROM HER PLACE in the church choir, Caroline Donnelly noticed the new arrival as soon as he entered the building on Sunday morning. He was tall and broad-shouldered like all the Marshall brothers, but Ford was the one blond in the bunch, his hair still the bright, sleek gold color he’d inherited from his dad.

Mr. Marshall had been her father’s business manager as far back as Caroline could remember. She’d known him as the smiling man who kept a bowl of hard candy on his desk and always let her have a piece when she came by.

“Sweets for the sweet,” he would say and wink at her.

The Marshall boys had never come with their dad to the Donnelly ranch—her dad had strict rules about who she could play with—but she’d gone to school with the oldest three. Because he was five years behind her, she hadn’t seen much of Dylan, but there was always talk in town about the latest stunt the youngest Marshall had pulled.

Ford, however, hadn’t been one for pulling stunts. Even before they lost their parents, he’d been the serious Marshall, the driven, studious one. He seemed the same now, with his expensive haircut and his designer jacket worn over a pair of jeans.

Actually, he looked even better now—like every woman’s fantasy of a cleaned-up cowboy with lots of money. It was all pretty much make-believe, but oh, so nice to dream about. His successful law career was a claim to fame as far as the citizens of Bisons Creek were concerned.

“Psst. Caroline!” Beth Forbes, the woman next to her, tugged on her sleeve. “Time to start!”

Caroline stood up belatedly and opened her choir book. Thank goodness she knew the opening song by heart, since she was on the wrong page. Those Marshall boys had always distracted her from what she was supposed to be doing. Especially Ford.

She tried to concentrate during the service, but she found her gaze straying to his face too often for her own comfort. They’d been in the same grade and some of the same courses—English, history, math. He hadn’t grabbed attention by clowning around or disrupting class, the way other boys did. But none of the troublemakers bothered him or tried to goad him into acting out. Something about Ford kept everybody at a distance.

Listening with half an ear to Garrett’s sermon, Caroline recalled the day Ford had returned to school after his dad died. Mr. Marshall hadn’t worked at the Donnelly ranch for a couple of years by then, but she’d wanted to say something since he’d been a big part of her life. So she’d stopped at Ford’s locker just before lunch.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she’d said, meaning every word. “He was kind to me when I was little.”

Ford had slammed his locker shut, making her jump. He’d turned in her direction, but his dark blue eyes looked right through her. After a moment, he nodded and then walked away.

She’d been too spooked to speak to him again.

Not today, though. Today she would talk to him and make sure he listened, because what she had to say was important. Not just to her—though the work she was trying to do had cost her dearly—but to the whole community of Bisons Creek.

Butterflies flitted around in her stomach as she thought about talking with Ford. She’d been nervous enough when she’d expected to have to consult with Wyatt, but Garrett had told her that Ford was running the ranch this summer and that he was the one she’d have to convince. At least she’d have Garrett to back her up. Ford couldn’t walk away from the two of them.

She hoped.

As usual, Dylan fell asleep during his brother’s sermon, but today Ford elbowed him awake for the final hymn. In the choir room afterward, Caroline shelved her folder and spent a minute at the mirror to add a swipe of lipstick to her mouth and make sure her hair was okay. She put a hand on her stomach and drew a deep breath—the butterflies had taken up kickboxing.

Finally she went to the social hall, where refreshments were provided, giving members a chance to greet each other and chat over cookies and lemonade or coffee. Garrett had promised that he would make sure Ford stayed.

And there he was, surrounded by folks who hadn’t seen him since the last time he was home at Christmas, all of them asking about his glamorous San Francisco law practice and how Wyatt was doing. Dylan hosted his own fan club, composed of the single women from eighteen to thirty who wanted to be flirted with. The youngest Marshall was only too happy to oblige.

Caroline wolfed down three sugar cookies and a glass of lemonade before the crowd thinned enough that she stood a chance of getting through. As soon as she stepped into the circle, Ford glanced her way. His eyes narrowed slightly before refocusing on the face of the person talking to him. He smiled at the woman—such a nice smile, but one he used so rarely. And never with her.

If it were up to me, Caroline thought, I’d make him laugh at least three times a day.

Maybe, if the project she wanted his help on got going, she might get the chance!

Finally, with most of the congregation out of the way, she moved close enough to say, “Hello, Ford.” She breathed deep and held out her hand. “Welcome home.”

For a second—just an instant—he hesitated. Then his hand took hers, and his eyes brightened. “Hello there, Caroline. Good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

The warmth of his skin against hers was nearly as distracting as the smile. “Fifteen years, believe it or not, since graduation. I hear you’ve done magnificent things in San Francisco.”

“I do my job. What have you been up to?”

Garrett stepped up beside his brother. “Caroline runs the Department of Family Services in Bisons Creek. She’s working with the area’s disadvantaged families.”

“Really?” Ford lifted a disbelieving eyebrow.

Caroline nodded. “Really,” she said, and at that moment realized they were still holding hands. She slid hers quickly out of his grasp. “I majored in psychology, got my master’s degree in social work and was with the department in Casper for four years before moving back here. There are people in trouble in this area, just like anywhere else, especially the teenagers. High school is a lot more dangerous now than when we were there.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, which only made his shoulders broader. “So I understand. Garrett said you have a project you want to talk to me about.”

“I do.” She glanced around and noticed the volunteers were cleaning up the refreshment table. “Now might not be the best time, though. Could you meet me in town for lunch tomorrow?”

He glanced at Garrett. “I’m here to take on some of the work Wyatt can’t get to. I expect I’ll be in the saddle all day tomorrow. What about right now? Kate’s Café is still open on Sundays, right?”

“I’ve got some sick parishioners to visit,” Garrett said. “I can’t take a break for lunch today.”

Caroline hesitated. She’d expected to have Garrett’s support when she explained her plan. Would she be as persuasive by herself?

Ford read her indecision. “If you’re busy, maybe later in the week...?”

“No, not at all.” She would do this and do it well, for the kids. “Right now is perfect. Shall we meet there in about ten minutes?”

Dylan sauntered up. “Hey, Miss Caroline. You are looking especially fine today.”

She gave him the big smile he deserved. “Thank you so much, sleepyhead.”

He flushed and pushed his dark hair back off his face. “Stayed up till dawn working on a piece. Then somebody stomps in at seven and drags me out of bed to feed horses.” His gaze went to Ford. “So I’m a little short on shut-eye.” He yawned for emphasis. “Going home to bed.”

Ford propped his hands on his hips. “That leaves me without a ride.”

Caroline swallowed hard. “No problem. We can go to the café in my truck. I’ll run you home after.”

His gaze, meeting hers, was hard to read. “Great. I’m interested to hear what you have to say.” He stepped forward and pressed the tips of his fingers against her shoulder blade. “Shall we?”

They got a few interested stares from lingering church members as she led the way to her truck. Caroline wanted to yell, “Just business!” at them but restrained herself. She wondered if Ford would prefer that she had.

She unlocked the truck from a distance with the electronic key and was surprised when he followed her to the driver’s side to open the door.

“Th-thanks,” she said, after climbing in with as much grace as she could manage in a dress.

“You’re welcome.” He shut the door, came around the back and swung into the passenger seat with a cowboy’s smooth control.

“You’re still at home in a truck, I see.” She let her gaze brush over him as she turned her head to reverse out of the parking space. “Do you drive one in San Francisco?”

“I’ve got a Mercedes for town. The clients prefer it.”

“Do they know your ranch background at the law office?”

“My partners are aware. I have some pictures in my office, but most people don’t notice. They’re concerned with their own issues, not mine.”

“Not like Bisons Creek, where everybody wants to hear your business?”

“Not remotely like Bisons Creek, which has its good and bad points.”

The drive to Kate’s Café took all of three minutes. Caroline parked in a spot the next block up—one of the five blocks that made up Main Street—because the lot around the restaurant was full. They didn’t talk as they walked to the café, but the never-ending Wyoming wind blew her hair in all directions.

Caroline sighed. She would be giving an important presentation to the most intelligent, educated and sophisticated man she knew in front of at least half of the town’s citizens, and she’d look as if she’d walked through a tornado. Great.

Ford held the door open for her again when they reached the café. The bell on the handle rang as he came through behind her, and every face in the building turned in their direction. Caroline kept her smile in place and scanned the suddenly silent crowd for a table.

“Here ya go, son.” Marvin Harris stood up from the table in the front corner. “The missus and I are done. You’re welcome to sit here.”

“Thanks, Mr. Harris.” Ford shook the older man’s hand and his wife’s. “Good to see you, Mrs. Harris. How are those grandsons of yours? I hear they’re real firecrackers.”

“You got that right.” Mr. Harris chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Caught them one day trying to fly out of the hay loft with a pair of wings they’d made out of cardboard. Lucky they didn’t break their darn fool necks!” He turned to Caroline. “Hello, Missy. How’s your mama these days?”

“Just fine, Mr. Harris, thank you.” At least, she hoped so. She hadn’t visited with her mom in almost a month.

Mrs. Harris walked up to Ford and patted his arm. “It’s about time you finished with this San Francisco foolishness, boy, and came back home where you belong. Get yourself a wife and some kids and settle down.” As she left, she gave Caroline a wink that Ford would surely notice. “You two have a nice afternoon.”

Just kill me now, Caroline said to herself. It can only get worse from here.

Chapter Two

By the time Ford had pulled out Caroline’s chair and then settled into his own, one of the waitresses had come to clean the table. “Thanks, Angie.”

Caroline said the same thing at the same moment. Their gazes met and held before sliding apart.

“How’s school?” Ford asked the waitress.

“Good.” The college sophomore gave him a grin. “I made the rodeo team. Cool, huh?”

He nodded. “As long as you remember to study for classes.”

Angie stuck her tongue out at him and turned to Caroline. “You rode for the University of Wyoming team, didn’t you, Caroline?”

Caroline brushed her hair behind her shoulders. “For three years. I dropped out my senior year—too busy.”

The waitress sighed. “I’ll never be too busy for rodeo. I’m hoping to go pro when I graduate.” She loaded up plates and glasses on one arm. “What can I get you two to drink?”

Caroline asked for water, Ford ordered a soda and Angie went on her way, which left them facing each other across the table. “Glad to be back in town?” Caroline asked him.

He gave a rueful smile. “Something of a challenge, I admit. The locals are ready to plan your life out for you, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yes. Not to mention telling you exactly what you did wrong in the past.”

“But surely you don’t hear that often. You were everybody’s favorite rodeo queen.”

She rolled her eyes and frowned. “Hardly.”

“Oh, definitely. That’s how I remember you—prom queen, homecoming queen, rodeo queen.” Her expression didn’t lighten. “You won all the votes, every time.” For good reason, since she’d been the prettiest girl in the school.

Not to mention the daughter of one of the richest ranchers in Johnson County. “Is your mother doing well? Your brother still riding bulls?” He wouldn’t bring up her dad. They were likely to have very different perspectives on George Donnelly.

She met his gaze, and he was surprised to see sadness in her eyes. “I haven’t talked to Reid for...a while. My mom says he’s doing okay, but will be retiring from the rodeo pretty soon to come back and work on the ranch with Daddy.”

“That’ll be...interesting.” As much as he enjoyed working with his own family, Ford didn’t envy Caroline’s brother a life with his father as his boss. His own dad had spent ten faithful years working at the Donnelly ranch and, from what Ford remembered, George Donnelly had been a tough taskmaster.

He also remembered how, just months after his mom’s death, Donnelly had fired his dad without a second thought. The resulting downward spiral had cost him and his brothers their remaining parent. Though Donnelly couldn’t logically be held responsible for his dad becoming an alcoholic and killing himself in a car accident two years later, his indifference certainly hadn’t improved the situation.

But the Marshall boys had turned out just fine without anybody’s help. Wyatt’s strong hand and determination had seen them through. In the end, the only people you could rely on were your family.

“Working with my dad is a challenge,” Caroline said, in an unexpected echo of Ford’s thoughts. “I’m not sure Reid will stick it out. He can be pretty volatile himself.”

Angie reappeared with their drinks. “What can I get y’all to eat? Chicken fried steak is the special today,” she announced. “Comes with mashed potatoes, green beans and Kate’s homemade rolls.”

“Sounds great,” he and Caroline said in unison. Again.

“That’ll be two.” Angie wrote on her notepad. “Back in a bit.”

When Ford looked over at Caroline, she had set her forearms on the edge of the table and leaned a little toward him. He gathered they were about to get down to business.

“We’re here,” she started, “because I want to tell you what I’m planning. This is a project Garrett and I are very excited about, and I think the Circle M Ranch would be the perfect setting to use.” Her expressive face wore the prize-winning smile he’d never forgotten.

Ford drew a breath and relaxed into his chair. “Okay, I’m ready. Go for it.”

She talked without stopping for at least fifteen minutes while Angie delivered their plates and refilled his drink, while he ate and Caroline took a bite here and there. Ford listened and didn’t interrupt—she was clearly in the moment and very prepared with numbers and details, genuinely committed to her plan. Only when she actually finished and sat silent for almost a minute did he try to get a word in edgewise.

“You’ve worked hard on this.”

She nodded, chewing a bite of her steak.

“And you’re really driven to succeed with it.”

Another even more vigorous nod of her head.

“So let me go over what I’ve understood from your presentation. You want to start up a summer program for at-risk teenagers—the ones who have gotten into trouble at school, or with the law, or who have problems at home, like documented abuse. Not hardened criminals, but kids who still could be rescued and sent in a different, safer direction.”

“That’s right.” She took a sip of water. “I’ve screened all the children I work with very carefully to identify the right kids for the group. I don’t want to put anybody at risk. I just want to give them a different experience, a chance to see that they can succeed in life.”

“Right. And the kids in your program will reside at the Circle M, where they would be expected to learn how to do ranch work—riding, herding, roping, feeding, treating...whatever is on the schedule for me and my brothers to do, the kids would also do.”

“Yes. I know they would have a learning curve—none of them have a ranching background.”

“So they would have to learn how to ride, and ride pretty well. They’d have only a couple of weeks to acquire the kind of skills it takes a ranch hand several years to master.”

“You would be doing the main part of the work, but you’d be doing it anyway, so it’s not a loss for you.”

“As long as they didn’t do anything dumb and hurt themselves.”

“Well—”

“But you’re expecting us to be there to protect them and see that they don’t get injured, along with doing our own work.”

“I know it’s asking something extra, but I’ll be there, too, so I could do a lot of the supervision and help out—I was a pretty good roper in my day.”

“Sure. And you were a champion rider. I get that. What about the legal liabilities? Will the parents sign a waiver and a consent form, just in case something does happen?”

“People stay at working guest ranches all the time, Ford. They agree to hold the owner and the ranch workers blameless in case of injuries or...or death...if something happens. We would cover the Circle M and the Marshalls the same way. The parents would agree to it. And we’d have a medical consent form in case we needed care fast.”

“There is no fast medical care in Bisons Creek.”

“Ah, but there you’re wrong. We have a doctor coming to town this summer, and she’ll be opening her own clinic. If something happened, we’d be just a few minutes away.”

“Progress is wonderful,” he said drily. “So these kids, who aren’t the most upstanding citizens, are going to live and work at the ranch for three months, with access to our animals, our equipment, tools and house. We’re supposed to trust they won’t do any damage or take anything. We have computers, you know. Cell phones. TVs and radios and audio equipment. There’s beer in the fridge, whiskey in the sideboard. But you believe your kids will be immune to the temptations.”

Caroline was quiet for a moment, staring down at the table in front of her. Then she looked up at him. “I have to be honest—three of the boys were caught stealing candy from a gas station a few weeks ago. The manager took them to court, for their own good, he said.”

Ford sat up straight in his chair. “And you want to bring them into our home?”

“They’re boys, Ford. Little more than children. The judge was going to sentence them to community service all summer, but I persuaded her to let me try this program. I want to show these kids where choosing the right side can take you. I think they will be immune because bad behavior will carry penalties.”

“What kind of penalties?”

“If they fail this program, they return to the court system and end up with a juvenile record. They don’t deserve that. They’re not bad. Just confused.”

He blew out a deep breath, just as Angie sidled up to their table. “Dessert?”

Caroline shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”

But Ford nodded. “Kate’s apple pie? With ice cream?”

“Coming up.”

He’d welcomed the interruption, though it only delayed the inevitable. He wasn’t a man who went around kicking puppies. But right now he felt like one.

Propping his elbows on the table, he captured Caroline’s gaze with his. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I served several internships in family law, dealing with these kinds of kids. I mentored them. I wrote briefs for their court appearances. I investigated their home lives, their schools, their friends. Do you know what I saw?”

“What?”

“Nine out of ten didn’t give a damn about what we were doing for them. And the ones who did couldn’t escape, even if they wanted to. I don’t think I caused meaningful change for a single kid I worked with.”

Caroline clasped her hands together on the table. “That’s terribly sad. But does it mean you stop trying?”

He wasn’t getting through to her. “Why are you so determined to implement this plan? What do you hope to gain?”

Her chin lifted, and a stubborn light came into her eyes. “Why are you so opposed to it?”

Ford shook his head. “You first.”

She blew out a short breath. “I honestly believe that everybody deserves a chance to succeed, regardless of their income, their family situation, their history. Kids in particular ought to be offered options for a better life. What I hope to gain is a better place to live for all of us.”

“So you’re basically trying to save the world?” He meant it as a joke, to ease the tension.

Caroline didn’t smile. “Somebody needs to. Why not me...and the Marshall brothers?”

“Because some people can’t be saved.” Ford folded his arms across his chest. “No matter what you do for them, they break the rules out of self-interest and simple, downright meanness. In the process, they often hurt the people around them, including the ones trying to help them.”

“These are kids, Ford. They’re not old enough for meanness.”

“This is my family, Caroline. This is our home, which I spend my life working to protect. You may believe a signature on a release form reduces our liability. As an attorney, I can tell you that lawsuits are easy to file and hard to evade. An injured kid could cost us thousands, even hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe cost us the ranch itself. More important, our reputations are vulnerable in this situation. One of those kids could claim they were molested on the ranch, and all of us would become suspect. Frankly, I’ve come too far in my professional and personal life to take that risk lightly. My brothers are good men—I would hate for them to deal with that kind of public harassment. You wouldn’t be immune, either. Your job—your whole life—could be ruined because of a teenager’s whim.”

She didn’t flinch. “I think it’s worth taking the chance.”

“I disagree.”

“You’re saying no.” Her face was pale, her big eyes wider than ever and, as he watched, they started to shine with unshed tears.

He let his arms relax, resting his fingertips on the table. “I’m really sorry, Caroline. I understand what this means to you, what you hope it might mean to the kids. But I’m saying—”

Angie slid a saucer laden with pie and a huge scoop of ice cream across the table in front of him. “Jerk,” she said before walking away.

He used his index finger to move the scoop of ice cream from the table back on top of the pie. “What I’m saying is that I’ll vote no when the time comes.”

Caroline frowned. “Vote?”

“That’s how the Marshalls make decisions.” Ford pushed the plate away. He’d lost his appetite. “Everybody gets a vote on something that affects the ranch as a whole. Like this program of yours.”

“What do you do if there’s a tie?”

“Wyatt’s the boss, so he gets an extra vote if he wants one.”

Hope replaced despair in Caroline’s pretty face. “So even if your vote is against me, there’s still a chance that the Marshalls as a family would agree?”

Ford sat forward, resting his arms on the table. “My vote isn’t against you.”

There wasn’t anything about Caroline to vote against, that he could see. The tousled mahogany hair, the rosy cheeks and shining eyes, the way a lightweight yellow dress set off her curvy figure and slender legs... No, not a single thing to object to, in his opinion. “I don’t consider your plan to be in our best interest. That’s all.”

“Wyatt may think differently. Garrett certainly does. What happens then?”

“I guess you go forward with your project.”

“But you’d still oppose me?”

“If the family votes yes, I’ll cooperate.”

She shook her head. “Spoken like a lawyer. I’ll just have to hope that Wyatt and Dylan are willing to take a chance on my kids.”

“We’ll talk it over and let you know as soon as we’ve reached a decision.”

She gave him a bright smile. “Then I guess the faster I get you home, the faster I’ll hear the answer.”

Which gave him a fair idea of where he stood as far as Caroline Donnelly was concerned.

* * *

THOUGH SHE’D GROWN UP practically next door to the Marshall brothers, Caroline had never been to the Circle M Ranch. Yet here she was on a Sunday afternoon, driving Ford Marshall home. He looked relaxed enough in the passenger seat, but he seemed to fill up the space around her, which made getting a decent breath difficult. When she tried, his scent teased her nose with hints of pine and grass edged with an exotic tang she couldn’t name.

His silence was getting on her nerves, so she spoke the thought at the front of her mind. “You and your brothers didn’t grow up at the Circle M, did you?”

“No.” The hand lying on his thigh fisted and then relaxed. “My folks had a house in town. When Dad died—” he paused and drew a deep breath “—Wyatt went to work for Henry MacPherson at the ranch. After a couple of years, the old man had us move out here. Dylan was twelve, I think. I stayed for the summer before heading off to college.”

“So you really haven’t lived here that long.” She turned off the road to drive between two stacked-rock columns, which supported an iron arch carrying the ranch’s brand—a circle with an M inside. “You didn’t come back for the summers, did you?”

He glanced in her direction, his eyebrows raised. “You kept track?”

Caroline felt her cheeks flush. “It’s just...I mean, for those first few years, the graduating class got together, you know, to have a party during the summer and find out what everybody was doing. But you were never there.” Even that was admitting too much. Why had she noticed whether Ford Marshall came or not?

“As I said earlier, I worked most summers in legal offices, getting experience to put on my law school applications.”

“But you probably wouldn’t have come even if you were in town.”

“Probably not. I wasn’t Mr. Social Scene when I was here.” After a moment, he continued. “But you were. I’m not surprised you made all the parties.”

That was the third strike, as far as Caroline was concerned. She stomped on the brake, put the truck into Park and turned in the seat to face him. “What did I do to you that made you resent me so much?”

Again, that look of surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s the third time you’ve insinuated that I’m shallow and stupid.”

“You said you got your master’s degree. That’s not stupid. I just meant you were Miss Popularity.”

“There you go again. Yes, I was popular in high school. When did that become a crime?”

“This is a ridiculous argument for two adults to have. High school was fifteen years ago.”

“But whatever grudge you’ve got against me is standing in the way of helping some troubled kids get the future they deserve. So I want to deal with it now and move on.”

His hand fisted again. “I was a poor orphan kid from the wrong side of town. You were the rich socialite with the world and most people in it at your feet. I grew up being reminded I wasn’t good enough to breathe the same air as George Donnelly’s kids. But I’m over it. Can we drive now?”

Caroline continued to stare at him. His explanation fit the facts and yet...didn’t. What wasn’t he saying? “People do change, you know.”

“Yes, they do. Some more than others.” He opened the door and dropped to the ground. “Thanks for the ride. Garrett will call you after we have the family meeting.” With a two-fingered salute from an imaginary hat brim, he set off in the direction of the house.

As he strode off, Caroline noticed the summertime beauty of the lush pastureland around her. Circle M Ranch sat at the base of the Big Horn Mountains, where a winter’s worth of snow had brought up green grass and gorgeous wildflowers—pink fireweed, yellow buttercups, white daisies and blue lupines.

She also appreciated the physique of the man walking away from her. He’d taken off his jacket, and she enjoyed the play of shoulder muscles under his dark plaid shirt, the fit of denim over his narrow hips and long legs. He had certainly changed since high school—though still lean, he carried himself with a confidence the skinny teenager had lacked.

Yet he’d been the cutest boy in school. Which was why she’d always hugged to herself a secret crush on Ford Marshall.

Not that she would tell him about it. He was way too sure of himself for her to give him that kind of advantage. Maybe she’d had a lucky escape in high school—a man like Ford would dominate a woman’s life rather than simply share it. And Caroline wouldn’t surrender her hard-won independence just to be someone’s “little woman.”

This summer, though, she wanted him on her side, which meant mending fences. So she put the truck in gear and followed him down the road, slowing as she came alongside him. Through the open window, she called, “I’m sorry for being cranky. Get in and I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

He shook his head and kept walking. “That’s okay. I don’t get out enough in San Francisco. Feels good.”

“Are you going to make me follow you all the way to the house?”

“It’s only about a half mile.”

“Come on, Ford. Get in.”

He stopped, set his hands on his hips and stood facing away from her, gazing out over the land. They were on a bit of a rise and could see all the way to the mountains, plus the ranch buildings in between—a timber-sided house, a big red barn with corrals around it and other structures.

“It’s beautiful,” Caroline said. “I never realized what a view you have over the valley. My dad’s ranch isn’t nearly this pretty.” Especially considering all the metal buildings set up to house his quarter horse breeding business. With the stallion barn, the mare barn and foaling barn, the indoor arena, offices and equipment sheds, not to mention the landing strip for his plane, the place resembled a military base more than a Wyoming ranch.

“Yeah, it’s pretty special.” He came to the door and leaned one arm on the windowsill. “You’re a problem, Caroline Donnelly. Do you know that?”

“I don’t intend to be. Why don’t we let the past be over, and start from here and now?” She held her hand out across the seat between them. “Deal?”

He stared at her face for a long moment, then his gaze dropped to her hand. His shoulders lifted on a deep breath. “Deal,” he said, clasping her fingers with his. He let go quickly. “But I’m still walking home.”

* * *

FORD DIDN’T LOOK BACK when he heard the truck’s engine rev up, or when the rattle of gravel announced a quick three-point turn and a rapid acceleration. He’d spent as much time as he could handle sharing the small space of the truck cab with Caroline. He wanted to clear his head before he had to deal with his sharp-eyed brothers. Teasing was a way of life with the Marshall boys—at the least sign of weakness, they would rib him without mercy.

He wasn’t sure he could defend himself. Because, as pretty as she had been in high school—and he well remembered lying in the dark in the room he’d shared with Wyatt, thinking about the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts and the cute round butt she got from being a damn fine barrel racer—Caroline Donnelly was a hell of a beautiful woman now.

The years had refined the elegant bone structure of her face, setting her eyes deeper, sculpting her lips into a delicious smile. Because she didn’t ride as much, her legs were long and slim, shown to advantage by the short skirt of the dress she’d worn today. He’d had to get out of the truck and walk away before she saw how he felt about her. How he’d always felt.

Not that Caroline would consider dating him, even though he wasn’t one of “those poor Marshall boys” now. Her boyfriends in high school had been the “cool” guys, the ones with nice cars, stylish clothes and plenty of money to spend on their girlfriends. He’d watched them all from a distance, overheard details about the parties, the skiing trips and concerts and vacations. He knew, because his dad talked about it, how fancy the Donnelly house was, how the barn had heated water dispensers in the stalls and, incredibly, a swimming tank for the horses.

His dad also described life for Caroline and her brother Reid—expensive ponies to ride and train on, handmade saddles and custom bridles and boots, clothes that never seemed to get worn twice. Their vehicles, in high school, were pricey pickup trucks with all the latest gadgets. Nothing was too good for the Donnelly kids.

Ford had made money over the years, but there was still a big gap between his family’s status and hers. George Donnelly had earned his fortune by producing world-class quarter horses. He and his family socialized with the governors of Wyoming and Texas as well as princes of countries in the Middle East. The Circle M Ranch sold grass-fed, all-natural beef in a few Western states—not the same scale at all. And Ford’s own luxuries—the Mercedes, good suits, a nice apartment—did not compare to the Donnelly empire.

Caroline attracted him, distracted him and reminded him of the part of his life where the Marshall brothers counted for next to nothing. A part he would prefer to forget.

So he would be happy if she stayed away from the Circle M. Her plan was too big, anyway, too demanding, too risky. He’d come home to take care of his brothers and do some relaxing of his own before getting back to the career he’d worked so hard to build. End of story.

Feeling better for having sorted out his problems, Ford reached the house and climbed the porch steps.

As the screen door fell shut behind him, his youngest brother walked into the living room with a sandwich in one hand and a soda in the other.

“So what’s this I hear about teenagers staying at the ranch for the summer?” Dylan dropped down onto the couch. “Are we going to have extra hands this year?”

“Not if I can help it.” Ford sat in the recliner near the fireplace and put up the footrest. “Caroline gave me the hard sell at lunch, but I told her this isn’t a good time for us to be experimenting with a summer camp at the Circle M.”

“I’d be hard put not to buy whatever that woman had to offer. She’s a beauty, and a sweetheart, besides.”

Ford unclenched his jaw. “You two would make a great couple.”

Dylan grinned at him. “Thought that would get to you. You looked pretty starstruck when she walked over this morning.”

“Eat your lunch. I’m taking a nap.” He closed his eyes, hoping his little brother would get the message and drop the subject.

“Not that I want a bunch of kids hanging around,” Dylan continued. “I’ve got a show coming up and the work’s not half-finished. Playing babysitter doesn’t fit into my plan for this summer at all.” When Ford didn’t answer, he went on. “But if Garrett is on Caroline’s side, then it comes down to the boss’s opinion, I guess. What do you think Wyatt will say?”

“About what?” Wyatt stood in the doorway to the back of the house.

Ford sat up again. “You don’t have your brace on. You’re not supposed to walk around like that.”

“Yeah, well.” He made a rude hand gesture, which dismissed the doctor’s orders. “What’s this I’m supposed to have an opinion about?”

Honey sidled around Wyatt and came over to the recliner to get her shoulders and ears scratched. Ford obliged and then got to his feet. “I’ll explain after we get you tacked up, so to speak. I’ll fetch the saddle.”

Just as he’d finished strapping on the brace, Garrett showed up. “I’m starving—nobody offered to feed their preacher this afternoon. Did you leave the fixings out, Dylan?”

Wyatt snorted. “When does he ever put them away?”

“Just thinking somebody else might be hungry,” Dylan said nonchalantly. “Saving them some trouble.”

“Yeah, right.” Wyatt took the recliner across from the one Ford had claimed. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ll let Garrett explain. I don’t want to bias the jury.”

“That’s lawyer-talk for...?”

“Garrett supports the idea. He’ll give you the official sales pitch.”

Bearing a plate with a sandwich and a glass of milk, the man in question sat in the rocking chair, which was the only piece of furniture they’d brought from their childhood house.

“It was my idea, actually. Caroline was talking about trying to find something for the kids to do over the summer, to keep them out of trouble. And I suggested using the Circle M as a place for them to hang out, to learn and mature.” Between bites and gulps, he outlined the proposal with almost as much enthusiasm and optimism as Caroline had shown.

Ford had to admit he’d enjoyed the explanation a lot more when he was listening to her, watching the shine in her eyes, the tilt of her head when she’d smiled—yet another reason he wanted the entire idea to go away. Next summer, when he wasn’t around, they could work on this project. Wyatt could handle Caroline and her teenagers.

Maybe Wyatt would fall for Caroline. Or maybe Garrett already had, and that was why he was pushing the plan.

“Ford, I can tell by your face that you’re not in favor of this program.” Wyatt stroked Honey’s head where it rested on his knee. “What are the arguments against the idea?” His mouth twisted with pain. “Wait a minute. I feel like I’m falling backward, trying to sit in this chair. Garrett, let me have the rocker.” He struggled to stand up as the brace kept his spine straight and prevented any twisting or bending between his neck and his hips. “Thanks.”

Honey looked at the new arrangement and opted to stay where she was with a different knee under her chin.

“Yeah, what are the arguments?” Garrett said. “I’m seeing only good things—the chance to help some kids to lead better lives and bring in extra hands for all the work around here. Where’s the downside?”

Ford went through his objections yet again. “The legal liability is a big problem. If one of those kids gets hurt—the way you are, for instance, and you’ve been riding practically you’re whole life—then I don’t care what form the parents have signed, they’re going to come at us with a costly lawsuit.”

“Spoken like a true legal eagle.” Garrett had moved into his usual defensive position, sitting forward in the chair with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands gripped together. “Not everybody is so sue-crazy.”

Relaxed in the recliner, Ford kept his hands loose, his expression neutral. “Both you and Caroline have mentioned that these kids come from families with financial problems. Wave a hundred thousand dollars in their faces and see what kind of crazy they become.”

“I say it’s worth the risk.”

“You’re an optimist. I’m a realist, and it’s my job to protect our investments.”

“Since you’re the one with the big salary. Got it.”

“Since,” Ford fired back, “I never again want to wonder whether we have to go to bed hungry because we don’t have the money to buy food.”

Wyatt flinched. Garrett looked down at his hands.

“Not a problem these days,” the boss said in a quiet tone. “We’re all adults. We can all work. Most of the time, anyway,” he added.

A few moments of silence allowed the air to clear. “In my opinion, the setup is too ambitious,” Ford said, finally, calmly. “A few hours a day for a week, maybe. But to have the kids living out here, making us responsible for them 24/7, is asking too much of us and them. When are we supposed to get actual ranch work done? What if a kid smuggles drugs onto the ranch? Or raids the liquor cabinet? If one of them runs away, we are responsible. With males and females in the group, it’s even possible a girl might get pregnant. Do we want that culpability?”

All three of his brothers winced. “That seems unlikely,” Garrett said. But he sounded less sure.

After a minute of silence, Wyatt pushed himself out of the rocking chair. “I’m going outside for a while to think. No, I don’t need supervision,” he said, as Ford looked at him in question. “I can manage on my own. I’m gonna walk to the corral, talk to the horses. They make more sense than you three, anyway.”

Ford watched through the window to be sure his brother got down the porch steps. Then he turned back to Garrett. “If you’re supporting this plan because...because you’ve got a thing for Caroline, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get in your way. But—”

“She’s something special, that’s for sure.” Garrett got to his feet. “But I’m on board because it’s a chance to do something good for kids who need a break. I’m just sorry you don’t agree.” He headed for his bedroom, the signs of his hurt feelings easy to read.

“Touchy, touchy.” Dylan stretched his arms before flopping down full-length on the couch. “I’m gonna snooze till the boss shows up again. Maybe by then it’ll be dinnertime, and somebody will have cooked something.”

Ford eased back in the recliner to nap a little himself. “You ever think maybe you could do the cooking?”

“Nope.”

“Just wondering.”

He did manage to close his eyes for thirty minutes or so. Then, between feeding the horses and Honey and helping Garrett with the spaghetti dinner he’d decided on, supper was on the table before they all got together again. Even so, they had to drag Dylan off the sofa to wake him up.

Fortunately, he was never grumpy when pulled out of sleep. “Looks good,” he commented, sitting down in the dining room. “How come we only eat like this when Ford comes home?”

“Because he does most of the cooking.” Garrett passed the big bowl of pasta to Wyatt. “So what’s the answer, Boss? Did you come to a conclusion about Caroline’s project?”

In his deliberate way, the oldest Marshall served his plate before answering. “Let’s say grace,” he suggested, and they all bowed their heads while Garrett gave thanks.

As they took their first bites, Wyatt said, “Henry MacPherson took me on, a teenager with no ranch experience, and taught me what I needed to know. He paid the wages that, for better or worse, kept us alive those first couple of years.”

The glance he sent Ford recalled his earlier comment about going to bed hungry. “In time, he paid all four of us to work on the Circle M. He brought us here to live with him, and he left us the land for our own. He pretty much saved our lives.”

Looking around the table, Wyatt held each of their gazes with his own. “I say we owe it to Henry to pass the favor on.”

“Yes!” Garrett pumped his fist in the air.

Ford glanced at Dylan, commiserating in silence.

In case anybody had a question, the boss made his decision clear. “We are going to do everything we can to give those teenagers a summer they won’t forget.”

Chapter Three

Caroline spent the afternoon and evening riding an emotional roller coaster. One minute she’d remember Ford’s infuriating insistence on walking home, his obstinate refusal to consider the advantages of her plan. The next minute she’d be wondering about the Marshall family meeting and what the verdict would be. She expected Garrett to vote for her. Dylan liked her, so maybe he would, too. Ford, of course, was a no. At least he had his reasons, wrong-headed though they might be.

So the outcome depended on Wyatt’s opinion, and she couldn’t predict what he would think. He’d been two years ahead of her in school, but he’d dropped out when he was sixteen to take the job at the ranch, so she’d never gotten to know him well. Among the people of Bisons Creek, he held a reputation for honesty, fair dealing and reliability. Her dad, of course, dismissed the Marshalls as not good enough to do business with. But then, her dad judged his friends by the sizes of their bank accounts. Caroline chose to use a different standard, though her self-determination had cost her the family and home she loved.

When the phone rang at eight thirty, she was eating her way through a pint of chocolate-chip-mint ice cream. Garrett had called her in the past, so she recognized the number of the Circle M Ranch. “Garrett? Tell me fast. Is it yes? Or no?”

On the other end of the line, someone cleared his throat. “I hate to disappoint you, but this is Ford.”

“Oh.” Damn, she said silently. I’ve probably bruised his ego. “I’m sorry. I was just so anxious. I’m glad to know you got to the house.”

“I had a pleasant stroll, as a matter of fact. And you have the chance you wanted for your teenagers. Wyatt voted in your favor.”

Tears stung her eyes. She swallowed hard, hoping they couldn’t be heard in her voice. “That’s...that’s wonderful. I’m so glad. And I’ll make sure you don’t regret it, Ford. I promise.”

“I already do.” Before she could react, he said, “Garrett wants to talk to you. Have a good night.” When he came on, Garrett was as relieved and excited as she had been. Celebrating with him, though, Caroline didn’t feel as thrilled as she should have.

Ford already regretted the agreement? The kids weren’t even there yet; nothing had changed. Was it just sour grapes, or was there something more to his words? And how would she ever find out?

Lying in bed, the lights out and chocolate-chip-mint replaced in the freezer, she asked herself the really important question.

“Why do I even care what he thinks?”

Luckily, she fell asleep before she had to face the answer.

On Monday morning, she went to the office early and tackled the paperwork, trying to get ahead of the never-ending stream of forms to be filled out for each and every case she handled. Her coworker, Randi Ames, came in at eight, as usual, and they spent a few minutes over coffee celebrating the acceptance of her project.

“It will be so wonderful for the kids,” Randi said. “And you’ll get to spend three months out there with four gorgeous men. Surely you can fall in love with one of them before the summer is over!”

Caroline blinked away a sudden vision of Ford’s solemn face. “I hope not. That would just complicate the situation. I’ll have my hands full keeping the teenagers under control. I won’t have time for romance.”

“There’s always time for romance.” Randi had recently gotten engaged and was now matchmaking for every single woman she knew. “It’ll hit you when you least expect it.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Caroline murmured, as Randi unlocked the outside door to the office. She was too busy to take care of a husband. There was so much she wanted to accomplish in Bisons Creek, so many people who needed a helping hand.

In fact, her first appointment of the morning was with Susannah Bradley, whose son, Nathan, was one of the kids she’d selected for the summer program. Nathan tended to be a loner at school, made grades lower than his test scores predicted and had a history of cutting classes.

The real problem with this family, however, was Susannah’s repeated visits to the medical clinic in Kaycee and the emergency room in Casper. She explained the incidents as “falls” or “stumbles,” but doctors had reported that they suspected abuse. Susannah refused to confirm those assumptions, but Caroline had convinced her to check in every few weeks, as a means of keeping an eye on the situation.

One of those visits was scheduled for today. But ten o’clock, and then eleven, came and went. Susannah didn’t appear.

“I’m going out for lunch,” Caroline told Randi as noon rolled around. “I’ll be back by one at the latest.”

“Be careful,” Randi said, because she knew perfectly well that eating wasn’t the only item on Caroline’s agenda.

“Will do.”

The Bradley family lived on the outskirts of Bisons Creek in a trailer that had seen better decades. Toys lay scattered in the dirt that passed for a yard, and a beat-up sedan sat in the driveway. Caroline hoped that Mr. Bradley wasn’t home as she knocked on the door.

“Susannah? Susannah, it’s Caroline Donnelly. Can I come in?”

After her third knock, the panel swung in a few inches.

Susannah peeked out, revealing half her face. “I—I’m sorry I couldn’t come today. I’m not feeling well.” Her voice was soft, with an East Coast crispness to her words. She wore dark black sunglasses inside the house.

“No problem. I was out of the office and thought I would stop by.” A little girl appeared at hip level, and Caroline smiled at Nathan’s five-year-old sister. “How are you today, Miss Amber?”

“Good.” Amber played with the ears of the stuffed bunny she clutched to her chest. “But Mommy’s head hurts.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Caroline looked back at Susannah. “Do you get migraines?”

“Yes. Sometimes.” She adjusted the set of the lenses on her face. “The light bothers my eyes.”

Caroline discounted the lie, putting a hand over Susannah’s fingers as she clutched the edge of the door. “Are you okay? Do you want to see a doctor? I can drive you to Kaycee.”

“Thank you, but it’s not necessary. Amber is great, and Nathan is okay. Really, everything is...fine.”

“Do you need somewhere else to live for a while? We have resources...”

Susannah shook her head. “I...can’t. The kids...” She seemed to want to say more, but nothing came.

Dropping her hand, Caroline swallowed her disappointment. “I’ve got some news on that front, actually. Remember the summer ranch program I was hoping to start? I got the go-ahead yesterday, and I’m planning to have everything in place so we can start next week. Nathan will be spending twelve weeks on the Circle M Ranch, learning and enjoying himself.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Susannah lifted the edge of her shades to wipe her eye, and Caroline caught a glimpse of an ugly bruise. “He’ll be so excited. He won’t say so, of course. But I could tell when he talked to you about it that he wanted to be part of the program. As long as...as his dad says it’s okay.”

“I’d be glad to talk to him—”

“Oh, no. No, that wouldn’t be— It’ll be fine. I’m sure it will.”

Caroline couldn’t help trying once more. “You don’t have to stay. I can take you to a safe place.”

Susannah glanced down at Amber and stroked a hand over the girl’s blond curls. “Things will be better. Travis has a chance at a job with your dad, as a matter of fact. If he gets it, we’ll be doing well.”

That was bad news, as far as Caroline was concerned. Her dad was notoriously hard on his employees, especially the ranch hands. But maybe the work would keep Susannah’s husband out of the house more. “I wish I could put in a recommendation, but...”

“I know. Your dad is making a mistake, cutting you off. I hope he’ll regret it, and the two of you can reconcile.” She gave a small wave and withdrew into the shadows. The door shut with a rickety thud.

Driving back to town, Caroline consoled herself with the knowledge that she wouldn’t be losing contact with Susannah Bradley as long as her son was at the Circle M for the summer. And helping Nathan might add some energy to the situation; might inspire Susannah to improve her own security and that of her children. Maybe his father would make more of an effort to control his drinking. And his temper.

“I hope so, anyway,” she told her mom, when they sat across from each other at a table in Kate’s Café. “Or maybe he’ll impress Daddy and keep his job. It’s a possibility, I suppose.” She took a sip of iced tea. “Where’s Daddy off to today?”

“He and Reid flew to New Mexico to inspect some young bull stock. I jumped at the chance to have lunch with you while they’re away.” Linda Donnelly folded her hands together on the table and tilted her head. “I must say, you’re looking very pretty. Something special going on? Besides this summer program you’re so excited about, that is.” Her own dark hair and green eyes were Caroline’s fortunate inheritance. “I can’t believe you convinced the Marshalls to cooperate.”

“Garrett Marshall concocted the plan to begin with and proposed it to me.”

Her mother smiled. “You’ve been talking with him quite a bit, haven’t you? Just business, so to speak?”

At just that moment, Kate herself came over with their sandwich plates. “Don’t let her fool you, Mrs. Donnelly. She was in here yesterday with Ford Marshall. She’s gonna have all four of those boys wrapped around her little finger before the summer ends!”

At her mother’s expectant expression, Caroline groaned. “It’s nothing. And Ford Marshall doesn’t even support the project. We’re all working together for the kids, that’s all.”

“Ford, hmm?” Her mom finished off a French fry. “I remember you had a crush on him in high school.”

“How could you have known that?”

“Sweetie, you talked about him constantly. What else was I supposed to think?” She smiled at Caroline’s appalled expression. “But he went off to school, so I assumed you’d find someone else. Funny that you never have.”

“I’ve had plenty of guys in my life, thank you.”

“No one serious.”

“I don’t have time for serious.”

“Of course not.”

“So,” Caroline said with desperation, “who is Reid dating these days?”

Kate came to pour more tea. “Not me,” she answered.

They all laughed, and the break allowed Caroline to move the topic far away from the Marshall brothers.

As they walked toward the parking lot after lunch, Caroline put her arm around her mom’s shoulders. “Sure do miss you,” she said quietly.

Her mother returned the hug. “Me, too. I hate having to wait until your daddy goes away to talk to you. But...”

“I don’t want him yelling at you.” Caroline kissed her cheek. “Just know I think about you every day. And I wish things could be different. But I just couldn’t live by his rules anymore.”

“I understand. Maybe one day he’ll realize his mistake.” The doubt in Caroline’s mind was reflected in her mother’s face. “I keep praying, anyway. For now though, it was great to see you. Take care.” They shared another long hug. “I love you, Caroline.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

Back at the office, Caroline worked until after four to finish the last of her appointments and the associated paperwork. She contacted most of the families of the kids she’d picked to participate in the ranch program and arranged for them to visit later in the week to fill out the forms. The parents seemed generally pleased, the teenagers less sure. She had to believe they would enjoy their ranch experience, no matter what doubts Ford might retain.

Keeping her perspective optimistic, she grabbed her purse and a clipboard and headed for the door. “I’m going to the Circle M to check out the buildings where the kids will be staying,” she told Randi. “Garrett says all they need is some soap and water to make them livable. I hope he’s right.”

“With four big strong guys to help out, I’m sure you’ll get those rooms whipped into shape in no time.”

“One of those big strong guys has a broken back, remember? And one of them opposed this plan from the get-go.”

“Who was that?”

“Ford, the lawyer. He kept talking about lawsuits.”

“That is his job.” Randi propped her chin on her hands and got a dreamy look on her face. “I remember Ford. Blond hair, chiseled jaw and those navy blue eyes. Oh, yeah.” Then she slapped her hand on her desk. “But you were voted Most Popular in our class. You can twist any man around your little finger, Caroline Donnelly. Just go out there and make him melt!”

Caroline blew out a sigh and left without bothering to protest. Had she really been such a...a tease? Why did people remember the flirting but forget the A average, the service-club presidency, even the barrel-racing wins, for heaven’s sake?

No, she’d never had a serious romance, because most men just wanted a good time. And good times were nice, but a relationship needed more. She’d already lost one family, and she’d seen many others fall apart. She wasn’t going to build her own unless she could be sure it would last.

For that she wanted a man with integrity, a man she could depend on and trust to make the right choices. A man who would make her his partner, put his family first and take care of them with everything he had. When she found that guy, she’d see about getting serious.

Inside the Circle M’s gate, she stopped the truck, rolled down the windows and took some deep breaths of clean, cool air. Then she put on new lipstick, ran a comb through her hair and prepared to greet the Marshall brothers with all the confidence she possessed.

* * *

RIDING TOWARD HOME, Ford felt every minute of his day on horseback, thanks to the aches in his calves, his thighs and his butt. It had been way too long since he’d spent time in the saddle. And tomorrow the real pain would set in. By tomorrow night, he wouldn’t want to move.

But he and Garrett and Dylan had moved about a hundred cow-calf pairs to nice fresh pasture near the mountains. He’d spent the hours outdoors, soaking up pure Wyoming sunshine. His favorite boots still fit, and his jeans were even a little loose. Whatever they cooked up for dinner tonight, he planned to eat a lot of it. All in all, a good day.

“Race you to the barn,” Dylan called, as he surged past on his Appaloosa gelding, Leo.

Ford shook his head. “Crazy.”

Garrett blew by, leaning over Chief’s black neck. “Loser makes dinner!”

Without a second thought, Ford flicked the end of the reins at his palomino, Nugget, and set out after them. He hadn’t been in a horse race in several years—he’d be lucky if he stayed on for the half mile to the barn, much less caught up.

At the end, the three of them came loping across the last field and up the road, their horses neck-and-neck. Dust clouds billowed around them while flecks of foam from the horses came back in their faces. They passed the finish line—the corner of the barn—and only then saw the truck parked in front of the house. The three cow ponies all came to a sliding stop right beside Caroline Donnelly’s bright red pickup.

It used to be bright red, anyway. Now a thick layer of dust had faded the color to dirty maroon. Caroline stood on the porch with Wyatt, watching with wide eyes, her mouth forming a big O of surprise.

“Busted,” Dylan muttered.

Ford threw him a warning glance. “You’re doing dishes.”

Garrett said, “Him and me both.”

Wyatt’s glare seared them even from a distance. “Is this any way to bring in a horse that’s been working hard for you all day long? I’d expect you three to know something about taking care of your animals, but I guess I was wrong. You can just go out again and walk those ponies till they’re cooled off—a good twenty minutes, I’d say, after that gallop. Once you’ve unsaddled, rubbed down and fed them, you can get over here and wash Caroline’s truck off. She’s staying for dinner, so when you’ve got the truck clean, you can come in and start cooking. I’d like to eat by seven.”

With a curt nod, he turned his back on them, opened the screen door and ushered Caroline into the house.

They didn’t make seven, but by seven thirty Ford had finished his chores and managed a quick shower, plus a change of clothes. He started to shave but stopped himself with razor in hand. It wasn’t as if he was going on a date.

In the kitchen, he checked the chili he’d thrown together, mixed a salad and took a stack of dishes off the shelf. Then, pulling in a deep breath, he went in to set the dining room table.

As he expected, Caroline stood in the doorway to the living room a moment later. “Can I do something to help?”

“Sure.” He’d meant just to glance over, but he got snagged by the sight of her in the last rays of sunlight, with copper glints sparking in her hair, her eyes shining, her skin glowing. She wore a red-and-blue-patterned dress that stopped well short of her knees. The long length of leg above her blue leather boots was a lovely thing to behold.

Ford struggled to get his brain back online. “We’re...uh...having chili and salad.”

“Sounds delicious.” She came to the table and took the stack of bowls. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Ford did most of the cooking before he went off to college.” Garrett walked in, carrying glasses and silverware. “He figured out menus all of us would eat without getting bored. After working at the feed store, he came home and made dinner every night. We’ve never eaten so well since.”

She nodded, smiling. “That’s impressive.”

Ford’s face heated up at the simple compliment. “Yeah, but I hate grocery shopping.”

Caroline shook her head. “See, I don’t mind that part. I just make a list and speed through. I’ll even put it all away when I get home. But when I come in at night, the last thing I want to do is make a mess in the kitchen.” She shrugged, and he noticed her pretty shoulders in the sleeveless dress. “I end up eating cereal and bananas more often than not.”

“Not much of a dinner.” He was setting plates around the table, going in the opposite direction as Caroline until suddenly they stood side by side. They both moved back, laughing, and Caroline stepped forward to slide by, but somehow there wasn’t quite enough room in front of the table, and their bodies brushed together, her back to his front, as she moved across. Ford sucked in a breath, only to catch the scent she was wearing, flowers with a hint of musk. He couldn’t remember when he’d last thought a woman smelled so good.

“I’m starving.” Dylan came in from the living room. “When do we eat?”

“When you put on a clean shirt.” Garrett nodded at the dust and dirt he’d worked in all day. “We have company tonight, remember?”

Caroline shrugged. “Don’t bother on my account.”

Dylan held up a hand. “No, he’s right. I’ll jog down to the studio. Won’t take a minute.”

Grateful for the distraction, Ford escaped to the kitchen. He’d strategically set Caroline’s place between Wyatt and Garrett, so it was Garrett who pulled out her chair. By the time Dylan returned, dinner was served, and Ford was able to sit down at a safe distance from their guest.

Which was when he discovered that he was placed directly across from her and would see her every time he looked up from his plate. He watched as she smiled at Wyatt, at Garrett and Dylan, heard her parry his youngest brother’s flirtatious comments and witnessed, again, her excitement as she and Garrett and Wyatt discussed the plans for the kids. Even when she was giving serious thought to a suggestion, light danced in her eyes, like a smile biding its time. Ford barely managed to finish half of his one bowl of chili.

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