Digging a little deeper

Running his family’s ranch has always been Josh McGregor’s dream. Dealing with his feisty grandfather, however, is not. Josh is struggling to maintain control, and ranch manager Tara Livingston doesn’t help. The only thing they agree on is ignoring the attraction between them.

Tara has a special bond with his grandfather, but she won’t stay in Montana forever. Yet her bold nature challenges Josh, making him question his goals. When Tara takes his grandfather on a treasure-hunting trip to the mountains, Josh has no choice but to go along. They may not find jewels, but they could come back with something even more valuable...

Heat crept up Josh’s neck.

“What kind of person do you think I am?”

Tara shrugged. The gesture was elegant, and he couldn’t help thinking that she’d look more at home at a French château than in Montana. “All I know is what I’ve seen between you and Walt, and the way you acted at the clinic,” she said. “Oh, and the way you’ve done your level best to get rid of me. It hasn’t been impressive.”

She had a point. He’d never expected things to turn out this way. Sometimes he didn’t recognize himself when he was arguing with Walt or pulling his hair out over a cowhand quitting.

As for Tara?

On one matter they totally agreed—they didn’t care for each other. That was okay, although he was fighting an undeniable attraction to her, a response that was purely chemical.

Dear Reader,

I have always been interested in geology, but lately the variety and beauty of this planet’s stones have been a particular passion. It may sound funny, but in many ways, rocks are like people. Some are harder, some softer, and each have their own particular beauty. Of course, as with people, it may also take a little work to discover the beauty inside. One of my favorite rocks is moldavite, a glass-like stone that was created when a meteor hit the earth. Love can be like that. It lands with unexpected force and creates something new.

My hero and heroine in The Rancher’s Prospect are both strong, stubborn, independent people who’ve set a course for their lives that isn’t necessarily the best for them. A world traveler, Tara has developed a cool outer shell to protect herself, but she isn’t nearly as tough as she appears, while Josh is working single-mindedly to achieve his dream of raising organic beef cattle on his own ranch.

It was interesting to pit these two very different people against each other, with the beautiful state of Montana as the backdrop to their story. Montana, by the way, has some very interesting geologic history, some of which naturally found its way into Tara and Josh’s story.

I enjoy hearing from readers and can be contacted c/o Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, ON M3B 3K9, Canada.

Callie Endicott

The Rancher’s Prospect

Callie Endicott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CALLIE ENDICOTT’s life refuses to slow down, but lately she’s taken a small amount of time to indulge her interest in rock hunting...in various rock shops. She still doesn’t have enough hours to do everything she wants, but Callie figures life is a juggling act and practice makes perfect. She’s interested in everything, but her particular passions include history and nature, which fits perfectly with her love for writing, reading, hiking and walking on a beach. Between her cats, her guy and everything else, boredom is never a problem.

To Carol, and in loving memory of Joe

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

JOSH MCGREGOR REINED in his horse when his satellite phone rang. He pulled it from his saddlebag and saw his parents’ phone number on the display.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answered.

“Josh, can you get to Montana right away?” asked his mother in a trembling voice.

Alarm went through him. Mom would never sound so shaky unless something terrible had happened.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s...your...” She stopped and he could hear her crying and saying something about how she’d thought she could handle it.

His stomach twisted.

A moment later his father came on the line. “Josh, there’s been a car accident. Grandpa Walt and Grandma Evelyn. A drunk driver...”

Gripping the phone so hard his fingers hurt, Josh tried to sound calm. “How bad?” He couldn’t bring himself to ask if they were still alive.

“Bad. They were airlifted to the hospital in Helena and are both in surgery. You should get here as soon as possible...just in case.” The last words were very soft, as if that would keep them from reminding his wife that her parents could be dying.

“I’ll be there, whatever it takes,” Josh promised, his throat tightening unbearably. He loved both his grandparents, but he had a special bond with Grandma Evelyn.

“Just get here safely,” said his father. “Hear me?”

“I hear. Don’t let Mom worry.”

“All right. We love you, son.”

Josh urged his stallion into a gallop and they quickly covered the three miles back to the large barns of the Texas ranch where he worked. He tossed the reins to a ranch hand. “Take care of Lightfoot for me, will you? I’ve got a family emergency.”

“Sure, boss.”

He stopped at the ranch house to let the Gordons know he was leaving, and also to phone Mark Eisley, his second in command. A call to the airline got him on the next flight leaving for Montana.

* * *

A FEW HOURS LATER Josh charged into the reception area of the hospital.

“Josh,” a soft voice exclaimed. Emily, his new sister-in-law, jumped up from one of the seats and gave him a fierce hug. “Come on,” she said. “They’re in intensive care. It’s this way.”

Grateful, he followed her through the hallways.

“How are they?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No change in their conditions in the last couple of hours. They’re still critical. I get updates now and then, but I told Trent to stay with your mother while I waited for you. She needs all the support she can get right now.”

Until Trent had gotten together with Emily, Josh wasn’t sure his brother’s presence would have been much comfort. She’d softened his edges in ways no one else had been able to do.

The rest of the family was in the intensive care waiting room. Mom was leaning against Dad, and Trent was on the other side, holding her hand. His sister, Madison, who lived in Seattle now, was already there, as well. There was a pained stillness around the room. Even DeeDee, his brother Jackson’s lively stepdaughter, was unnaturally solemn.

His dad got up and gave him a fierce, silent hug; Parker’s embrace alone would have told Josh, if he hadn’t already known, how serious the situation was.

Sarah McGregor also stood and put her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re here, son,” she murmured. “You can see them next.”

Josh understood the drill at ICUs. Only two visitors, at limited intervals.

Ten minutes later an aide came into the room. His father nodded, and Josh went with her through a wide door. His grandmother lay in the first cubicle.

Agony shot through him as he saw the bandages on Evelyn Nelson’s head and left shoulder.

He leaned over the bed, took her right hand and whispered, “It’s Josh, Grandma.”

Her fingers tightened for a moment.

“She squeezed my hand,” he whispered to the nurse who was adjusting an IV.

The woman gave him a kind, sad look. “It’s likely just a reflex,” she said gently, but Josh didn’t believe it.

He turned back to his grandmother. “I’m going to see Grandpa now,” he whispered and felt her thumb press against his palm. “I love you.”

If possible, the nightmare got worse when Josh saw his grandfather. Walt’s face was bruised and swollen, and a machine was breathing for him. His leg was swathed with bandages, blood staining through, and Josh wondered how extensive the damage might be. Lord, Grandpa would hate to be disabled; running his ranch was everything to Walt Nelson.

“Hey, Grandpa, it’s Josh,” he said, slipping his hand around the slack fingers. But this time there wasn’t any response, not even something his imagination could build upon. “I...I just saw Grandma. She sent her love.” It was possible to say that much, given the pressure of her thumb when he’d spoken about seeing her husband.

A moment later the aide nodded toward the door and Josh reluctantly left the ICU.

Back in the waiting room, Trent silently stood and gave Josh his place beside their mother. No one was talking. His sister-in-law Kayla lay on the floor with her feet elevated, probably related to her being seven months pregnant. But she seemed all right otherwise. Jackson sat next to her, holding her hand.

Sitting and waiting was hard for Josh; he was used to long days of vigorous activity, the same as the rest of the family. But it was good to be together at a time like this, even though all they could do was wait and pray.

CHAPTER ONE

TARA LIVINGSTON LOOKED through the taxi’s window at Notre Dame and other familiar Parisian landmarks as they headed for the airport. She would miss France, and it seemed especially hard to leave as spring approached, though Paris was wonderful in every season, despite its ever-growing traffic problems.

In a rare email exchange a few months before, an old college roommate had claimed Tara was living the dream life. Maybe she was—her Facebook album contained photos of everything from Stonehenge, the Bavarian countryside and her climb up Mount Fuji to scuba diving off the Australian coast. She’d lived in five countries over the past ten years, with visits to others, and had thoroughly enjoyed each of them.

But now she was headed back to the United States...to Montana, of all places. Her few belongings had already been shipped to the temporary apartment she’d asked Lauren to find for her, though there was no telling when they would arrive.

The butterflies in Tara’s stomach had nothing to do with returning to the States, and she kept telling herself there was nothing overly significant about seeing Lauren again. Their initial meeting had been awkward, but that was to be expected when twin sisters were reunited for the first time since they were babies.

If they couldn’t find a way to connect...?

Well, Tara had always managed by herself, and the world wouldn’t fall to pieces if she continued that way. Things would be simpler, at any rate. It had often seemed that family complicated the lives of her coworkers and tied them down. She wanted to be free to live different places and do all the traveling she wanted to do.

At the airport she checked her suitcases and settled in to the first-class seat paid for by her employer—a reminder that they wanted her to sign another contract as soon as possible. They’d even given her a choice of countries. She tucked her purse under the seat while wondering if she should pick somewhere new or go back to one of the places she’d loved so much.

A decision could wait until she began negotiating with her company about a new contract. She planned to be in Montana for three months. Lauren had invited her to stay in her spare bedroom, but Tara had wanted her own place. Lauren Spencer might be her twin, but she was still a stranger, and Tara wasn’t ready to live with another stranger. Her entire childhood had been spent living with strangers, being shuttled from one foster home to another.

The trip went well, albeit with a few layovers and transfers, but Tara was used to travel and made the connections to Helena without a problem.

“Tara,” called a voice as she arrived at the baggage claim area after landing. It was her sister, smiling tentatively, and their alikeness surprised Tara all over again. They had the same long blond hair, the same blue eyes with tiny flecks of gold, and the same height and build.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said. “I have to get a rental car, anyway.”

“I caught a ride with someone so we could travel back together—I couldn’t let you fly in without being met.”

“That’s nice.” Tara was far more accustomed to disembarking alone than she was to having someone greet her. Still, it was a nice gesture from her sister, and the effort was appreciated.

“Is this all you brought?” Lauren asked, looking at Tara’s two bags when they arrived on the carousel.

“I mailed a few boxes, but I travel light. I’ll buy anything the apartment lacks and leave it behind when I go.”

“Hopefully the apartment will be all right. It’s just a block from where I live and fully furnished the way you wanted, but the landlord said he’d understand if you decide to find somewhere else. He was surprised you didn’t want to choose your own place.”

“I’m used to it,” Tara explained. “The company I work for makes my living arrangements, which saves time. Besides, I’m not fussy. It’s just a place to sleep.”

After picking up the vehicle she’d reserved, Tara set the GPS and headed for Schuyler, a small town a couple of hours away.

“How was the flight?” Lauren asked after they’d passed the Helena city limits.

“I slept part of the way, which made it shorter.”

“Even so, you must be exhausted. The jet lag got me pretty bad when I flew back to California after visiting you in Paris.”

“Right. I’ll probably go to bed almost as soon as we get to the apartment.”

It was a good excuse to cut the day short. They ate supper on the way, and there was a second hug after they arrived at the furnished apartment, which was much nicer than Tara had expected in a small town in the wilds of Montana.

“I’ll come to the clinic tomorrow and take you out to lunch,” Tara promised. She didn’t want things to be uncomfortable with Lauren, but she didn’t know how else to act. Her twin was obviously better with people than she’d ever learned to be.

Lauren brightened. “That would be great.”

So Tara had the evening to regroup and unpack her bags, and she could sleep late the next morning. She reminded herself that nobody could expect to build a sisterly relationship overnight. After all, anybody who believed twins automatically connected had never spent more than thirty years apart from their sibling.

* * *

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN the order was canceled?” Josh barked into the phone. “I was expecting it to arrive this week. I’ve got heifers ready to breed.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. McGregor, but that’s what our records say,” explained the woman on the other end of the line. “We received a call that you didn’t need it.”

“Who called?” Josh demanded, though he was certain who was responsible.

“Walt Nelson is the name on my form. He had the purchase order number as confirmation.”

“Thank you,” Josh said crisply. “In the future, please note that I’m the only one who can cancel orders.”

“Very well.”

He slammed down the receiver and strode out to the yard where his grandfather was sitting.

“Why did you cancel my order from the Double J Ranch?” he asked.

Walt set his jaw. “Because we don’t need any frozen bull semen. Especially from Texas.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Texas,” Josh returned, trying not to lose his temper. Grandpa was an old-school rancher and had never forgotten the remark from a visiting Texan about Montana’s “little ole cows.” He’d never forgiven it, either. Josh supposed it hadn’t helped when he’d taken a job in the Lone Star state. Fifteen years ago, he’d tried working on the Boxing N during first his summer break in college but had been treated like a peon with no horse sense. Things weren’t much better now.

“Huh.” Walt crossed his arms over his chest. “They might have done mail-order breeding at that fancy-dancy ranch where you worked down there, but my cattle are already first-rate. If we want to vary it up, we make arrangements with our neighbors.”

Why couldn’t he understand? Josh wanted to produce top-grade organic beef. He had started the process of getting the Boxing N’s grazing land certified as pesticide-free, but even in the parts of the ranch that couldn’t be certified, he wanted to improve the stock. And borrowing a bull from a neighbor’s ranch wasn’t the improvement he had in mind. The Double J Ranch had prize-winning bull semen for sale, and it was exactly the upgrade he wanted.

Of course...he could go to his brother. Jackson’s breeding program was well-known, but Josh didn’t want to slide in on his family’s coattails. It already felt as if he was behind the curve since Grandpa had delayed his retirement so long.

The thought sent a mix of sorrow and guilt through Josh.

Twenty-five years ago, Grandpa Walt and his brother had made plans for the futures of their respective ranches. Since Mitch was older and didn’t have children and Walt had two grandsons, Jackson and Josh, they agreed that Mitch would retire and give his ranch to his great-nephew once Jackson got out of college. Walt, in turn, would give the Boxing N spread to his younger grandson, Josh. Except Walt Nelson hadn’t retired when Josh graduated college, he’d kept working...until the accident.

“I have a plan for the Boxing N, and bull semen from the Double J is part of it,” Josh said as calmly as possible. In the four months since Grandpa had given him the ranch, he’d danced around, trying to be considerate and respectful, but the situation was wearing on him.

“Fancy-dancy nonsense,” Walt proclaimed. “That isn’t the way we do things here.” He stood. “I’m going to see how Grasshopper is doing. It’s her first foal.”

As Walt Nelson limped toward the foaling barn, Josh held back a howl of frustration. Grandpa couldn’t let go of being boss, but you couldn’t have two bosses on a ranch, especially two with such dissimilar ideas.

Perhaps it harked back to the old rivalry between the Nelsons, Josh’s mother’s family, and the McGregors, his father’s. It hadn’t been a blood feud, but it was fierce nonetheless, and it must have been a terrible blow to Walt when his only child fell in love with someone from the enemy camp. Walt still didn’t really approve of the McGregors.

Needing space, Josh went to the barn, saddled Lightfoot and rode toward the north section of the ranch.

His frustration doubled when he saw slack wire on a fence. One of the ranch hands should have found the problem and taken care of it, but they were confused about whose orders to follow, who was doing what and when to do it. And they were also shorthanded since several men had quit, telling Josh that they’d return once Walt was out of the picture. Between the two problems, things were getting missed.

Taking the tools from his saddlebag, Josh began repairing the fence. Grappling with wire was preferable to the tug-of-war he was having with his grandfather. He would have used his trust fund to buy a different ranch years ago if he’d known everything would turn out this way. Now he was stuck—Walt couldn’t handle the Boxing N alone, and Josh couldn’t abandon the old guy, no matter how crazy the situation made him.

Distracted, Josh felt his hand slip. The wire cutters slashed across his palm and blood immediately welled from the ragged slice.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

* * *

TARA WALKED DOWN the street, following the directions to the clinic that Lauren had given her. It was almost surreal to see so many people dressed in jeans, boots and cowboy hats, as if she’d walked onto the set of a Hollywood Western.

Just three days before she’d been at the Chartres cathedral, brushing shoulders with visitors from around the world. It had been a farewell trip to one of her favorite French landmarks since she didn’t know how soon she’d be back. Now she was living in the land of cowboys and hitching posts. She only knew they were hitching posts because she saw a horse tied to one.

Stopping in front of the Schuyler Medical Clinic—a modest title since apparently it covered a vast array of services—Tara straightened her shoulders. The drive from Helena with her sister had been filled with awkward silences and even more awkward bursts of conversation. Still, it was too early to draw any conclusions about how well they would get along.

It didn’t help that she wasn’t good at relationships in the first place. Her most serious boyfriend, Pierre Montrose, had made her failures in that area abundantly clear.

Pushing the memory away, she entered the clinic.

The receptionist’s eyes widened. “You must be Tara. The two of you really do look alike.”

Tara tried to smile. She would probably hear that often while she was in town.

The other woman looked at the clock. “Lauren should be ready soon.”

“Thanks.”

Lauren was a physician’s assistant and had moved to Schuyler the previous year. She’d come for a friend’s wedding and had immediately decided the small town suited her much better than Los Angeles. It wouldn’t have been Tara’s choice, but to each their own, she supposed.

As she perused a rack of magazines, the outer door opened. A man stomped inside, his left arm wrapped in a bloodstained towel. He was attractive, with dark brown hair and intense blue eyes, but his face was flushed and scowling.

“Good, you’re here,” he said, thrusting his injured limb at her. “I need this stitched up, and please skip the lectures.”

Tara raised her eyebrows. “I’m afraid you—”

“Give me a break, Lauren. Just do it without one of your speeches.”

His manner was startlingly abrupt...surely all Montanans weren’t this rude.

“I was trying to explain that you’ve mistaken me for my twin sister, Lauren,” Tara said, keeping her tone as even as possible. It wasn’t easy. She’d never had a cat, but she knew it annoyed them if you rubbed their fur backward, and that’s how she felt...as if she’d literally been rubbed the wrong way.

“What the hell?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I’d like to point something out, however,” she added smoothly. “Declaring you don’t want a lecture suggests you may need one.”

“You’ve got one hell of a nerve saying that,” he snapped.

“Didn’t I get it right?” she asked. “Tell me what happened and I’ll try to tailor my lecture.”

“Hell.”

“You seem to have a limited vocabulary. That was your third ‘hell’ in less than a minute.”

He glared and turned to the receptionist. “Is Lauren available?”

“I’ve already paged her, Josh. She’ll be out in a minute. Has the bleeding stopped?”

“Mostly.”

A minute later Lauren hurried into the waiting room and checked Josh’s wound. She looked at Tara apologetically. “I need to take care of this,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m happy to wait while you deal with the results of someone’s stupidity.”

Lauren’s eyes widened, but she simply gestured to her bad-tempered patient, who followed her into the rear of the clinic with a last fierce look at Tara.

The receptionist chuckled once the door had closed behind them. “Oh, my gosh, Lauren said you had opposite personalities, and now I see what she meant.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s a terrific PA and very sweet, but she would never stick it to Josh the way you did. Good job.”

“Thanks. Is he always like Napoleon with a headache?” Tara asked, using one of her French coworker’s similes.

“Lately, at least. He’s getting on everyone’s nerves and keeps—”

The woman stopped abruptly and looked down at the papers on her desk; perhaps she’d been about to say something prohibited under privacy regulations. She seemed relieved when someone else came through the door and stepped up to the window. A protracted discussion about insurance ensued, so Tara settled into a seat and leafed through a news magazine. She read with interest an article on international relations with France. The thought of returning to Paris for her next contract was compelling, but there were so many other places to see. Rome and Berlin called to her as well, along with Madrid.

In the background, she heard a comment about something Josh needed and pictured his face again. Maybe she shouldn’t have sounded off since the clinic was Lauren’s place of employment. But who did he think he was? Lauren was a professional, not a flunky who was supposed to jump when he snapped his fingers.

As for lectures... Weren’t medical personnel supposed to advise their patients on healthy living?

She was on her third magazine when the interior door swung open.

It was Josh...What’s His Name. While his hand was neatly bandaged and elevated in a sling, getting it treated obviously hadn’t sweetened his mood. The thunderclouds on his face did nothing to diminish his good looks, but Tara wasn’t impressed—she’d known too many handsome jerks over the years. He glanced at her, and she gave him a wickedly sweet smile, which made him glower all the more fiercely before marching from the clinic.

Lauren joined her several minutes later.

“I’m free now,” she said. “But I’m afraid that took part of my lunch hour.”

“That’s okay. Where shall we go?”

“How about the restaurant down the street? It isn’t gourmet, nothing like the places where we ate in Paris. Schuyler doesn’t have any fancy restaurants, but the Roundup Café is fast and clean.”

“Not a problem. I enjoy indigenous foods.”

Lauren just blinked at the tongue-in-cheek remark, so Tara wasn’t sure whether her sister shared her sense of humor. Or maybe they simply needed to know each other better before that sort of thing could be understood between them.

* * *

JOSH STALKED AWAY from the clinic. The throb in his palm had subsided thanks to the anesthetic Lauren had used before sewing it up, but it would undoubtedly begin hurting again as that wore off. She’d also written a prescription for pain pills. He had insisted they weren’t necessary, but she’d reasonably pointed out that he might change his mind after the clinic had closed.

It didn’t help to know he’d acted worse than a hungry bear right out of hibernation. The series of accidents he’d had in recent months had made him feel like a ten-thumbed greenhorn. What’s more, once he got back to the Boxing N, Grandpa was sure to make a remark that would send his blood pressure sky-high.

On Josh’s last two visits to the clinic, Lauren had suggested he needed to pay more attention to what he was doing, especially when tense or angry. It was irritating to be told something he already knew, and he hadn’t wanted to hear it again. Still, Lauren Spencer was a nice sort, and he shouldn’t have barked at her...or at the woman he’d thought was Lauren. The story of her long-lost twin sister had gone through Schuyler with the speed of a grassfire, but he hadn’t realized they were identical.

Well, not really identical, at least in personality. Lauren was quiet, almost shy at times, with a down-to-earth practicality, while Tara had a cool, sensual polish. If he’d known she was in town he never would have mixed them up, but he’d heard she lived in France. She did seem foreign in Montana, while her sister had fit in from the beginning. It was a good thing. Getting medical professionals in Schuyler was an ongoing challenge; the town had even resorted to offering a bonus for anyone agreeing to stay three years or longer.

Josh snorted grimly. People in Schuyler wouldn’t be pleased if he said anything to make Lauren unhappy. It wasn’t just that they needed a good PA, they liked her...a whole lot better than they liked him recently.

Grimacing, he fished his cell phone out, awkward from being temporarily one-handed. Finally he untied the sling and stuffed it in his pocket. His phone had rung several times in the clinic, but he hadn’t been able to answer while Lauren was stitching up his palm.

The missed calls were from his parents’ home number, so he dialed back, trying to ignore the small clutch in his chest. It had only been six months since they’d lost Grandma Evelyn, and the whole family remained jumpy about the possibility of more bad news.

“Darling, are you all right?” asked his mother in an anxious tone. “Dora Payton phoned. She said you went into the clinic covered in blood.”

“Dora overreacted, as usual. It’s just a cut and Lauren put in a few stitches.”

“Thank God. Not that I’m happy you were hurt, I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. Why don’t you come over and lie down for a while? I’ll make you lunch.”

Sarah McGregor couldn’t resist playing mommy, even for her grown children.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. As long as I’m in town, I’m going to run an errand.”

“Oh. All right. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Josh disconnected before she could suggest pulling out his old teddy bear for comfort.

He returned the phone to his pocket and headed for the bank. After taking care of his business, he’d stop and grab lunch before going back to the ranch. Maybe along the way he’d get a little inspiration on dealing with his grandfather.

* * *

AS SHE AND LAUREN stepped into the Roundup Café, Tara was instantly aware that they’d become the center of attention. Heads swiveled their direction, the rhythm of the conversations changed and several people left their seats to crowd around them.

“My word, Lauren,” an older woman exclaimed, “you mentioned having a twin, but it didn’t sink in that you’d look so much alike. Your hair and eyes... I can hardly tell you apart.”

“Did you really meet for the first time in the last year?” someone else asked. “That’s amazing.”

Their curiosity was understandable. Separated and reunited twins weren’t common, and Tara knew she might be equally curious in their shoes.

“Tara,” Lauren said, “this is Vanta Cooper, she’s an attorney, and that’s Mark Corson, and this is Rob Mueller...”

The introductions continued and Tara lost track of the names; it seemed as if her sister knew everyone in town.

Vanta Cooper leaned toward Tara. “Don’t worry, nobody expects you to remember who we are. Lauren gets to know us at the clinic and other places.”

Nevertheless, Tara was getting distinctly edgy. How had her sister become friends with so many people? She’d only lived in Schuyler since last October. Maybe it was a Montana thing, the open ranges and isolation drawing everyone together. Or it could simply be that Lauren made friends easily.

Tara’s smile got harder to maintain as the introductions continued. She hoped nobody expected her to be like her twin, because she wasn’t. Life as a foster kid had taught her there were risks to getting close to people. As an adult she’d spent two years in each country where she’d worked but couldn’t claim to have friends in any of them; knowing she was leaving made it seem best to keep her distance. Naturally she had acquaintances, though she rarely kept contact with them once she moved on to a new position.

After what seemed like ages, folks returned to their seats while she and Lauren found a table along the wall.

“You’ve obviously gotten to know a lot of people here,” Tara commented after they gave their order to a server.

“Medical personnel are popular in Schuyler,” Lauren explained. “And my best friend married into one of the oldest families in town, so that helps. Everybody knows the McGregors.”

Tara frowned thoughtfully. “I thought Emily married someone named Hawkins.” Her sister had sent Emily’s name as an emergency contact after moving to Schuyler.

“She did, but Trent’s mother was a McGregor. When his parents died, he and his sister, Alaina, were adopted by their maternal uncle and aunt. The family is terrific and everybody here is so nice. I was really impressed when I came for the wedding, and since Emily loves the place so much, I decided Schuyler would be a good place to live.”

“I see.”

Just then the café door opened and in walked the wounded jackass from the clinic. He looked around, probably searching for an empty spot in the crowded restaurant, and Tara hoped he didn’t expect to join them, because while sparring with him might be interesting, she was sure it would make her sister uncomfortable.

“Hey, Lauren,” he said, stopping nearby.

“Hey, Josh.” Lauren looked at his bandage before focusing on his face. “What happened to the sling?”

“It’s in my pocket. I want to thank you for taking care of me. Sorry I was so abrupt.”

“No worries. I, um, should properly introduce you to my twin sister.” She gestured. “Josh McGregor, Tara Livingston.”

McGregor?

Oh, great.

For a moment Tara wondered whether Lauren might be sweet on the guy; that might also explain the “lecture.” If so, her move to Montana made sense. But if they were involved romantically, Tara knew she might cut her stay short—watching someone careening toward an emotional train wreck wasn’t her idea of fun. Her sister was far too quiet and shy to deal with Josh McGregor’s volatile personality. Work was the only part of Lauren’s life where she seemed confident.

“Hello,” Tara muttered, and he gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod.

“Please keep your arm elevated as much as possible,” Lauren urged him. “That spot on the hand is especially vulnerable to infection. And take it easy. You need to let it heal.”

“You bet. Thanks.”

When they were alone again, Lauren leaned forward. “I realize Josh was in a rotten mood when you met him earlier, but he isn’t always that way. Emily says he’s a good guy,” she said softly.

“Deep, deep down, right?” Tara guessed, deciding that Lauren wasn’t interested in Josh, after all, except as a patient.

“He can be difficult, but from everything I’ve heard, he’s going through a rough time right now.” Lauren nervously adjusted her water glass. “Anyhow, I was thrilled when you said you were coming for an extended visit, but can you afford to be off work that long?”

“It isn’t a problem.”

Tara wasn’t accustomed to sharing personal details with anyone, and didn’t elaborate on her financial situation. For ten years she’d enjoyed generous salaries, a full living expense allowance and hefty bonuses. She’d bought company stock and was well fixed. Employment wasn’t about earning a paycheck any longer; it was about seeing and living in new places and getting better at her work in accounting and records management. She’d specialized in both.

Their food came, and as Tara ate, she saw Josh McGregor inhale an enormous hamburger so fast he probably didn’t even taste it on the way down. The corner of her mouth twitched as she saw a splash of sauce from the burger hit the neat bandage on his hand. He wiped it quickly and got up, tossing money on the table.

On his way to the door he gave her another polite nod, but Tara wasn’t fooled. Whatever had been burning under his facade was still smoldering.

CHAPTER TWO

THE THIRD NIGHT after he’d cut his hand, Josh wished he’d filled the prescription for painkillers from Lauren; instead it was still in his wallet. He’d decided to tough things out.

He lay in bed for another few minutes, listening to the sounds that drifted in through the open window—cattle lowing, the neighs from the horses...a night breeze through the trees. Finally, he rolled out of bed and took two aspirins before dropping into the living room recliner.

The house Josh lived in was a couple hundred feet from the main house. His choice to stay in the foreman’s residence, instead of with Walt, was another source of tension between them. Walt thought his grandson should be at his immediate beck and call, though not because of uncertainty over his health. He just wanted to yell that the barns needed to be checked or to do some other task...usually something Josh had already handled or assigned to someone.

Josh’s mouth tightened.

Unreasonable expectations were why the foreman’s house had been empty. Grandpa was an old-school rancher who believed in running things with an iron fist, and no foreman worth his salt was willing to be treated as a glorified flunky. Walt had never kept anyone for more than a few months.

Belatedly recalling the recommendation Lauren Spencer had made, Josh raised his injured arm and draped it above his head.

Maybe if he hadn’t repaired the corral his hand wouldn’t be throbbing so much, but he couldn’t take any time off to let the gash heal—there was too much to do.

Now another cowhand had quit, leaving with the wry remark that he hoped to get his final pay. Josh presumed it was a reference to the deplorable state of the ranch office. Walt’s name remained on the ranch accounts and he insisted that he could continue writing the checks, but payments were erratic. When Josh had brought it up earlier, the old man had furiously claimed he had a plan and would get it done.

Right, a plan.

His grandfather kept an old-style ledger book to carefully track the number of foals born each year, but all the other ranch accounts were in shambles. Walt practically considered a computer to be blasphemy and the internet a passing fad not worth thinking about. Apparently it had escaped his notice that his wife had owned a computer and used the internet.

When Josh had moved in, he’d had the internet service transferred to the foreman’s house. His next step would have to be getting a computer online at the ranch office, though he could imagine his grandfather’s explosion when he did so.

Josh released a heavy breath.

God, he missed Grandma Evelyn. She was the one who’d kept peace between her husband and the rest of the family. But it was more than that. She’d been a wise, beautiful, laughter-filled presence in his life. Losing her had left a hole that refused to heal.

His family kept urging him to have patience with Walt, but they didn’t know how bad things had gotten. Legally Josh now owned the Boxing N and could do what he wanted, but how could he oust his grandfather? Hang the legalities; it was still Walt’s ranch. But like it or not, Josh knew he’d have to take control of the office at some point. Bills and the payroll needed to be properly managed, along with any stock sales or purchases. He didn’t want to get a reputation for being unreliable.

The throbbing slowly eased in his hand, and Josh had fallen asleep, when the phone rang. He grabbed the receiver, adrenaline racing through him.

“Yes?”

“We need to get to the hospital,” said his grandfather.

Josh shot to his feet. Walt had been frail since the accident, and his continuing health issues had put stress on his heart. Was it possible their heated discussion about the ranch office had brought on a heart attack or stroke?

“What symptoms are you having?”

“It isn’t me,” Grandpa returned irritably. “It’s Alaina. Your sister has gone into labor.”

Josh’s pulse slowed. It was good news, not an emergency.

“If it’s just started, we don’t have to rush,” he said. “Mom says first babies take time. Get some more sleep and we’ll go in a couple of hours.”

“No, now.”

Josh released an exasperated breath. He might have known Walt wouldn’t budge. His grandfather was crazy about Alaina, despite her being related to the McGregor clan rather than the Nelsons. It had taken Walt a while to accept both Trent and Alaina after they were adopted by his daughter and son-in-law, but Alaina had totally won him over.

A few minutes later Josh stepped outside. Grandpa was waiting on the porch of the main house and without a word climbed into the cab of the truck, maneuvering his bad leg into place.

Josh headed for town, his hand pulsing again. He could take the pain med prescription to the pharmacy in a couple of hours, but he hated the way that stuff made him feel. That was one of the few things he shared with Walt; his grandfather didn’t like taking anything for pain, either.

* * *

TARA EXITED HER apartment complex and saw Lauren coming down the block toward her. They’d discovered a mutual fondness for early-morning walks and had agreed to meet each day at 6:00 a.m. so they could go together. It was a relief to finally discover something in common.

Tara fell in step with her sister, who had started toward the edge of town. “Do you always take the same route?” she asked.

“Usually. I guess that makes me boring, but I enjoy the fitness trail. It’s great to get away from houses and power lines. I could never do it easily in Los Angeles, but would you rather go another way?”

“This works for me.”

Beginning at the hospital, the path continued out to the county park, where it branched into different directions. Tara had first seen the park on one of her drives; it was a pretty place and she looked forward to exploring it thoroughly. But as they walked through the hospital’s small parking lot, Lauren’s pace slowed.

“That’s Trent’s truck,” she said, gesturing to a vehicle with Big Sky Construction painted on the door. “Emily is only five months along—it’s too early. Do you mind if we... Well, you don’t need to go in. You should continue on without me.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” Tara told her. It didn’t seem right to ignore Lauren’s concern for her friend. Besides, with nothing else to do in Schuyler, she could walk whenever she wanted.

“We’ll need to go in through the emergency room because it’s so early,” Lauren explained, leading her to a side door.

The hospital wasn’t large, but from what Tara saw as she followed her sister, it was clean and modern.

Lauren turned into a hallway marked Maternity and stopped when she saw the waiting room full of people.

“Em, are you all right?” she exclaimed, rushing over to a woman in a navy blue maternity dress. “We were going for a walk when I saw Trent’s truck outside.”

“Nothing is wrong,” Emily assured, patting her rounded tummy. “Alaina went into labor. The whole family gathers for stuff like this. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Lauren nodded fervently.

Tara wasn’t sure what she’d expected of her sister’s oldest friend, but while Emily Hawkins wasn’t a raving beauty, she was pretty and positively glowed as she hugged the arm of a tall, handsome man who had to be her husband. A strange envy went through Tara when she saw the tender way he looked down at his wife.

Recalling that Josh McGregor was a member of the family, Tara scanned the room and saw him in a corner, his hand elevated, with what appeared to be fresh blood on the bandage. Curious, she went over and saw the wrapping was no longer pristine white, but dingy from a lot more than the hamburger sauce she’d seen him spill on it. Undeniably, there was fresh blood, as well.

Josh’s mouth tightened at her obvious interest, but he stood nevertheless. Certain age-old male courtesies were alive and well in Schuyler, Montana—cowboys tipped their hats and men stood in a woman’s presence.

“It looks as though you need another lecture,” she said softly.

Beyond a set jaw, Josh didn’t react.

A youngster sitting nearby was staring at Tara in fascination. “Golly, you do look like Lauren,” she declared, then cocked her head. “But in a way you don’t, only I’m not sure why.”

“DeeDee, at least introduce yourself before spouting off,” scolded a woman with auburn hair. She stood and smiled at Tara. “I’m Kayla McGregor, and this is my daughter, DeeDee.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tara Livingston.”

“Why isn’t your name Spencer, like Lauren?” DeeDee asked.

“Because Lauren was adopted by the Spencer family and they changed her name,” Tara explained, hoping the youngster wouldn’t ask more questions. She didn’t enjoy thinking about her childhood or telling people that she’d never been adopted. Instead, she’d grown up in foster homes until she’d aged out of the system at eighteen. The situation wasn’t unusual, but when you were a kid, hoping for a family of your own, it was hard not to wonder if something was wrong with you rather than understand that some people were reluctant to adopt older children.

Across the waiting room Lauren was talking to a man dressed in surgical scrubs; a moment later she hurried toward Tara. “Everything is going well with Alaina,” she said.

A perverse mood nudged Tara. “Mr. McGregor’s hand might be the exception.”

“I’m fine,” Josh snapped.

“Really? I could swear that’s fresh blood. But since you’re at a hospital, I’m sure you can get help if you need it,” she added, mindful that her sister was off duty.

Lauren immediately turned to Josh. “Let me check it for you. I can probably get supplies from the emergency room.”

His head shook once in a definitive rejection. “You said there would be drainage, and that’s all this is.” Yet he flinched in obvious discomfort as he shifted his arm.

Lauren hesitated as she looked at the grubby bandage. “Uh, Josh, you need a clean dressing at the very least, and if you’re in excessive pain, you could have an infection.”

“I’m just, uh, late with a pain pill, that’s all. I’ll put a fresh wrapping on it later.”

His tone made Tara wonder if there was more to the story, but maybe she’d prodded him enough. She wasn’t even sure why she had done it the first time, unless it was the universal impulse of poking a sleeping snake to see if it was alive...and seeing how quickly you could jump out of striking range.

“Okay,” Lauren said, though she didn’t sound convinced and shot another worried glance at the filthy bandage.

It was curious that she wasn’t being more forthright, but on the other hand, Josh McGregor did the tough he-man thing so well, it would take someone far more self-assured to challenge him. Besides, he hadn’t come for follow-up medical care; he was just waiting for his sister to give birth.

Lauren crossed the room to speak with someone else, so Tara decided to prod Josh a little further, after all.

“Personally,” she said, “even if the inside is okay, which I doubt, the outside of that bandage looks like something from a horror film.”

That was when he turned and stalked out of the room.

Tara stood back and waited as her sister made the rounds of the waiting room, then became aware of an older man a few feet away. His head was cocked as he stared at her.

She smiled. “Hi, I’m Tara Livingston.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Walt Nelson. You, uh, remind me of my wife when we first met—beautiful and sassy.”

“I...have a feeling you just gave me a lovely compliment,” she answered. No one else was paying any attention to the two of them and there was a strange air of intimacy, even in the midst of the group.

“Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head.”

An instinctive liking for the elderly man washed over Tara. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. “I do records management, so I’ll just file it under Compliments to Be Ignored.”

Walt leaned back in his chair and she realized he seemed tired and frail.

“Records management,” he murmured. “That’s interesting.” That was all, and after a few moments, he appeared to be growing drowsy, so she shifted the other direction so he wouldn’t feel he had to continue talking.

Aside from that brief, odd interchange, Tara felt more out of place than the first time she’d landed in a foreign country. Still, there was something pleasant about the atmosphere in the waiting room, everyone showing up to welcome a new baby.

Family, an inner voice whispered.

A familiar ache went through Tara, but she refused to poke that spot; her own life was just fine being traveled solo.

* * *

JOSH TRIED NOT TO glare at Tara Livingston as he returned to his chair with a cup of coffee from the vending machine; someone might notice and he didn’t want his foul mood to become the subject of a family discussion. However, it didn’t stop him from deciding that Tara was an annoying termagant—an old-fashioned word he’d picked up from Grandma Evelyn. But the term fit Tara, who was so unlike her sister. Lauren, with her friendly nature, had quickly found a home in Schuyler. Perhaps that was the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own short fuse the past few months, but there was no denying that Tara had a sharp tongue.

Now that he wasn’t being taken by surprise, he saw fewer and fewer similarities between the two women. There was a superficial likeness, but their personalities were completely different. Even their clothes were distinctive—Lauren wore a loose dark blue sweat suit, while Tara had chosen formfitting jeans that showcased every delicious curve. As for her snug designer T-shirt...? It reminded him that she was remarkably well built.

“Hello. You’re obviously Lauren’s sister.” His mother’s voice intruded into his thoughts. Always gracious, she’d come over to introduce herself. “I’m Sarah McGregor, and you must be Tara. How nice of you to come with Lauren to check on Emily.”

“Not at all. I’m glad your daughter-in-law is all right,” Tara said politely. “I take it Alaina, the one having the baby, is your daughter?”

“Yes, I’m so blessed. Five children and three of them married now.”

Josh leaned forward, interested by Tara’s discomfort in talking to his mom. It seemed strange since she hadn’t quailed under his bad temper, but you never knew.

His mother glanced at him and back at Tara. “I gather you met my son before this morning...?”

“That’s right,” Josh interjected, hoping to head off any revelations Tara might make. “We ran into each other when I went to the clinic for my hand.”

“Yes,” Tara agreed smoothly. “He thought I was Lauren, but I don’t have a medical background. I do accounting and records management for an international company based out of London.”

His mother seemed oddly disappointed. “Then you won’t be staying in Schuyler?”

“Not permanently. I’m a freelance contractor and my latest contract just ended. An extended visit seemed the best way to get better acquainted with my sister.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Lauren said in a soft, enthusiastic voice. “Tara says she can take a few months off before she goes back to work. Of course, then she’ll be heading off to Berlin or Singapore or some other faraway spot.”

“But you’ll be here until then?” Sarah pressed Tara.

“As far as I know.”

Josh restrained a groan, suddenly realizing why his mother was so curious. Now that he was back in Montana, she’d decided it was time he got married. She’d had mixed feelings about him falling in love when he worked in Texas...since a wife from the Lone Star state might expect him to remain there instead of come home.

But Josh had no interest in marriage, not until he got things in order at the Boxing N. Then...maybe. Great-Uncle Mitch had never married and seemed quite happy. Meanwhile, Josh enjoyed dating, but it had nothing to do with looking for a life partner.

“Do you enjoy horseback riding?” Sarah asked Tara.

“Very much, though I haven’t gone for a couple of years. Mostly I was able to ride while living in England. I also got a couple of chances when visiting the Australian outback.”

England? Australia? And most recently she’d lived in France? Boy, was his mother barking up the wrong tree. When and if he ever wanted a long-term relationship, it wouldn’t be with someone whose lifestyle took her all over the world. Someone like that would never stay long in Montana.

A rancher needed a wife who loved ranching alongside him. Josh had already seen how hard a marriage could be without a shared passion. Grandma Evelyn had come from San Francisco and never completely adjusted to ranch life. Actually, Josh wasn’t sure what had held Walt and Evelyn together. It must have been a case of knowing they could have married more wisely but were making the best of things. His grandfather’s priority had been the Boxing N above everything else, and Grandma Evelyn had loved art, music and flower gardens.

He glanced at his grandfather, who’d briefly fallen asleep earlier but was awake and blinking groggily. If only Walt would try to make the best of things now, but he wanted things his way and only his way. Ironically, Grandpa never would have put up with that behavior when he was a young man; stories of the battles between Walt and his father were epic. Of course, those battles might have started his stubborn refusal to see anyone else’s point of view.

“You’re welcome to go riding at our ranch whenever you want,” his mother told Tara. “Lauren, too, of course.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Josh said, hoping to head off his mother from suggesting that he give Tara and her sister a personal tour of the McGregor spread. “I’m going to the cafeteria for some better coffee than this sludge. Who wants some?”

There were several raised hands, along with a rueful shake of the head from Kayla, who was holding her four-month-old daughter. Kayla was forgoing coffee until she was no longer nursing—she’d discovered that even decaf gave the baby colic. Josh knew how hard that must be for her; she’d once lived in Seattle, which was a mecca for coffee lovers, and deeply missed the brew.

When he returned with a tray of steaming cups, Lauren and her sister had left. His mother was still talking about them, though, and he was convinced she had matchmaking in mind.

He would have to be careful. The past few months had been hard on the family, especially for his mom. She’d lost her mother and watched her father go from being an active, vital rancher to a querulous old man with disabilities. The arrival of Kayla’s baby had helped, along with having his sister, Alaina, pregnant along with Emily. Still, he didn’t want to raise her hopes that he’d get married anytime soon.

Right now he was solely interested in the ranch he’d dreamed of building. Grandpa was providing enough roadblocks; he didn’t need any more.

* * *

LAUREN PRESSED HER fingers to her stomach as she walked with Tara toward the emergency room exit. She wished negative emotions didn’t bother her so much. Heck, half the time she was wrong, misinterpreting a frown or shrug and losing sleep over what it might mean or questioning what she should do about it...even as she knew she was being ridiculous.

Josh McGregor was a prime example. The way he’d stomped out of the waiting room had seemed ominous, but it could be her imagination. And even if it wasn’t, it didn’t necessarily mean anything except that he was having a bad day.

If only that sort of thing didn’t make her feel as if she was shriveling up inside.

It would be wonderful to be more like Tara. Karen—the receptionist at the clinic—had gleefully recounted how Tara had “stuck it to Josh” when he’d roared into the waiting room earlier in the week. Obviously Karen felt their patient had deserved a dose of comeuppance.

Maybe so, but Lauren was glad someone else had dispensed the prescription.

She hadn’t talked enough with Tara to know if her twin was interested in settling down and getting married, but it would be wonderful if she stayed in Montana. There were plenty of nice guys in town. Almost as if summoned by the thought, Lauren saw two men in uniform coming through the double doors to the emergency room. The taller man grinned when he saw her.

“Hey, Lauren,” Carl said. “I heard about Alaina, so we stopped to say hello to the family and wish them well.”

Lauren nodded as other kinds of flutters started. “That’s nice of you.”

Carl was the local sheriff and the man with him was a new deputy. After living in Los Angeles with its frantic pace, she loved the small-town atmosphere in Schuyler. She couldn’t imagine a big-city policeman dropping in like this at the UCLA Medical Center.

Carl had attended the Trent Hawkins–Emily George wedding, and he and Lauren had sat next to each other at the reception. Lauren had enjoyed talking to him, and after she’d moved to Schuyler last October, they’d gone out several times.

“Holy cow,” Carl said, staring at Tara. “You said you had a twin, but it didn’t hit me until just now what that meant.”

“Sometimes I feel the same way. Tara, this is Carl Stanfield. And the deputy next to him is Noah Mercer.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tara said.

“Same here.” Carl cocked his head. “You almost have an accent, but I can’t place it.”

“I’ve lived in five different countries over the past ten years. There’s no telling how much has rubbed off.”

“That explains it. Noah is the same—he spent most of his childhood in New Zealand and Germany.”

Tara turned to the deputy, asking about a place in Auckland that she’d visited, while Carl urged Lauren down the hall a few feet.

“I’ve stopped by the clinic to see you,” he said, “but you’re usually with a patient.”

“They keep me pretty busy.”

“I’m sure they do. But now that you’ve had a chance to get more settled, I wonder if we could get together for dinner again?”

Renewed flutters went through Lauren’s abdomen. She liked Carl...liked him enough that she’d excused any further dates by saying she needed to get more settled. Carl was attractive and her pulse jumped whenever she saw him, but they were incompatible, so it didn’t make sense to continue.

“I’m sorry to put you off another time,” she said slowly, “but with my sister here, I shouldn’t take time from her visit.” Darn it, why couldn’t she just say no?

“Don’t be silly,” Tara exclaimed, apparently overhearing them. “You can’t put the rest of your life on hold while I’m in Montana. Go ahead.”

“Oh... I...in that case, it would be nice, Carl.”

He flashed his wide smile at her. “Great. How about Saturday night?”

“I don’t know, I’m on call for the next week,” she said, still hoping he’d get the message that she didn’t actually want to go out with him again. “I try to keep things quiet so I’ll be at my best if I’m needed.”

That was the truth. Medical personnel were limited in the area, and they took turns being available for after-hours emergencies.

“I understand. Would the following Saturday work?”

Obviously he wasn’t giving up, and Lauren wondered if she was unconsciously sending the wrong signals.

“Uh, sure,” she answered, unable to think of another excuse. A shred of irritation went through her. Most guys would have gotten the message with the first excuse she’d used, or at least the second. Even Billy Halloran, a notorious Schuyler flirt, had backed off when she’d told him that she wasn’t free because she was painting her apartment and who knew how long it would take?

Of course, it was doubtful that sensitivity had anything to do with Billy’s reaction. He’d disappeared at the speed of light, possibly worried she’d ask him to help.

Carl would have rolled up his sleeves and taken over the project, ignoring her protests. In the time they’d already spent together, his take-charge personality had been obvious, which was partly why she couldn’t envision a relationship with him. Someone like her would get swept under, like a swimmer in a riptide.

“I’ll drop by the clinic and we can discuss the details,” Carl said, drawing Lauren’s attention back to the present. He smiled again and walked with his deputy toward the maternity wing.

Outside Tara studied her curiously. “Is something wrong? You’re flushed.”

“No. Everything is fine.”

To avoid further questions, Lauren headed for the fitness trail, setting a rapid pace that Tara easily matched, though in her case she made it look like a sexy, long-legged stroll.

It was too bad they still hadn’t developed the close relationship that sisters should share. That way Tara might have teased her about Carl and she could have explained that she liked him, but that she wasn’t his kind of woman...the main factors being his career and her unfortunate streak of timidity.

In the beginning, her old boyfriend in Los Angeles had found those qualities attractive—it had made him feel protective and manly. But after a while Kendall had suggested she take assertiveness training and get counseling for her self-image. She’d broken up with him not long afterward.

Carl was a sheriff who’d been a big-city cop. He’d dealt with everything from traffic violators to murderers. It would take him even less time than Kendall to realize he’d rather be with someone gutsier. But she couldn’t explain that to her sister, who was strong and confident enough to live and travel alone in foreign countries. They barely knew each other—what if Tara thought less of her because of it?

“You’re quiet,” Tara commented after they’d circled the park twice.

“Just, um, getting my head together for work,” Lauren said. It was true, more or less. She needed to think less about her abysmal love life and more about the good things she had going, such as connecting with her long-lost sister. That was great, even if being around Tara made her feel like the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz.

Taking a deep breath, Lauren decided she didn’t have to make a big deal out of the situation. It was just one more date. Carl hadn’t suggested getting serious; he’d just asked if they could have another dinner together. She didn’t have to go out with him again once it was over.

She was both relieved and a little depressed at the thought.

CHAPTER THREE

A WEEK LATER Tara walked down an aisle at the grocery store, selecting spices. The restaurant food in Schuyler was tasty and certainly “indigenous,” but she was ready to vary things up with her favorite dishes from the countries she’d traveled to. Not that there was a huge selection of exotic ingredients available, but she could make do. Cooking was often a question of style as much as content.

It would also be good to experiment with recipes off the internet. In fact, she was ready to try anything to occupy herself. She was accustomed to working regular hours and maximizing her free time to see everything possible in the places she lived. In Schuyler she didn’t have a job, and her sister had long shifts at the medical clinic. Montana scenery was stunning, but nobody could spend all day, every day, just looking at the beautiful vistas.

Before long she’d realized she would go stark raving crazy without something more to do. Fortunately, that was changing since word had gone around Schuyler about the kind of work she did. More than once she’d heard, “I understand you do bookkeeping and organize stuff.” It was a simplistic description of her professional skills, but that was okay. She needed to occupy some of her time and didn’t mind trimming her fees to fit her new environment.

Today Tara was going to talk with a prospective client out in the country. His lawyer, Vanta Cooper, had contacted her, explaining that ill health had necessitated bringing in outside help. When she’d heard the name, Walt Nelson, she had immediately agreed, remembering him from the hospital.

Rather than use GPS, she studied a local map and memorized the route to the Boxing N. Shortly before two she pulled up next to a small building with a sign that identified it as the office.

“Good to see you again, Tara,” Walt said as he limped forward to meet her. “When you mentioned records management at the hospital, it gave me the idea of having you work in my office here. My lawyer’s office said they’d track you down.”

“I’m glad they did, Mr. Nelson,” she agreed with a smile.

“Call me Walt. You mind if I call you Tara?”

She smiled. “Not in the least.”

“Come see the disaster zone.”

He led the way into the building’s main room and Tara knew what Vanta had meant when she’d said that “paperwork isn’t Walt’s favorite occupation.” The chaos was obviously a long-standing condition. Papers were everywhere, and it was unlikely the ancient desk to the left had ever seen a computer.

But the room was pleasant, with windows that provided gorgeous views of rolling ranch land as well as the gardens around the house. On the right were comfortable chairs, a small sink, refrigerator, stove and coffeemaker. Plainly it was more than an office; it was also a gathering place, though she didn’t know whether it was for employees or friends.

“I don’t suppose what we need done here is like your work in Paris,” Walt continued. “It may seem ridiculous to you.”

“I don’t think anyone’s business is ridiculous,” she told him honestly. “Your needs will be different from the records management systems used by an international corporation, but I wouldn’t expect that on a ranch.”

He peered at her, his faded eyes looking sad. “How did you like working in Paris and all those other places you’ve lived?”

Realizing he wanted more than a pat answer, Tara thought for a moment before responding. “There is nothing quite like living among people who grew up in a different culture. What’s automatic for me may not be for them, and vice versa. It’s an adventure.”

Heaving a sigh, Walt settled into one of the easy chairs. “So you’re a Magellan of the modern age.”

“I don’t have much to keep me anchored in the United States, that’s all.”

“The ranch was my anchor...perhaps my prison, as well.”

The last words were mumbled, and Tara wasn’t sure she’d understood him correctly. She sat quietly while his eyelids drooped; she wasn’t in a hurry and he looked tired. After a few minutes, he shook himself and sat forward.

“My apologies. It’s those blasted pain pills the doctor gave me. But I won’t need them much longer. I’m set on that.” His voice was grimly determined.

While she knew she might be romanticizing the moment, Tara suspected she was seeing the grit made legendary in movie Westerns, except this wasn’t two stylized hours on celluloid. It was the real thing.

“I’ve got to check on a new foal,” Walt said, lurching to his feet. “Go ahead and poke around. Vanta explained you work as a contractor, setting your own hours and such, which is fine with me. If you don’t want to tackle such a mess, there won’t be any hard feelings.”

“Don’t worry, Walt. I think it’s going to work out fine. Just so you know, some of the time I’ll work only mornings or afternoons, depending on my other commitments and whether my sister has the time off.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. Shake on it?”

Tara took his hand and was surprised by the firmness of his grip. She also realized that the odd sense of connection she’d experienced was even stronger than when she had met him at the hospital. He was different from the suave, cosmopolitan executives she normally worked with; there was something rough and genuine about Walt Nelson.

“By the way,” he added, “just to be clear, I’m the one hiring you, not the Boxing N.”

Not sure what the difference meant, she nodded. There could be a trust involved or something that made it important to clarify. She’d probably learn the reasons as she went along.

Once Tara was alone in the office, she began looking through various stacks and drawers, cubbyholes and shelves. There were at least fifty years of ranch records, many of them mixed up with current paperwork.

Twenty minutes later she ran across a yellowed handwritten invoice dated 1872, wherein a Zebedee Nelson recorded the sale of fifty head of cattle. The expense of the cattle drive bringing them to market was annotated on the bottom. It was a whole lot more interesting than most corporate historical records she’d seen, and as she sat studying the paper, a soft breeze came through an open window.

In Paris she’d worked in a modern high-rise, surrounded by desks, bright uniform lights and the hum of hundreds of people going about their business. This would be a nice break, at least for the time being. She had a feeling Lauren hoped she would consider staying in Schuyler, but Tara had always felt the need to be constantly moving forward. She couldn’t picture giving up her career and staying in one place.

* * *

JOSH TURNED OFF his satellite phone as he rode toward the Boxing N ranch center. He was discouraged. After two days of having a help wanted ad in the local newspaper, his only calls had been from a high school senior looking for an after-school job and a retired pharmacist who’d moved to Schuyler the previous autumn and had “always wanted to be a cowboy.”

Surely it would get better. And after he got more help on the ranch, there’d be time for some of the other things that had to be done.

A silver Toyota was parked by the ranch office, and Josh frowned. In the past, his grandfather had met his cronies there because they could smoke their cigars without bothering his wife. But Walt had given up smoking years ago, and since Evelyn was gone, he no longer needed the office as a separate gathering spot. Still, old habits died hard.

After grooming Lightfoot, Josh tiredly made his way to the foreman’s house and slumped into an Adirondack chair on the porch. But as two figures came out of the ranch office and stood together beside the car, Josh leaned forward. One of them was his grandfather; Walt’s labored pace was impossible to mistake. But the other was a woman, and even from this distance, Josh could see she possessed very attractive curves.

Curiosity drove him to his feet, and he strode toward the office. But as he got closer, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Tara Livingston. What the devil was she doing here?

“Hey, Grandpa,” he said as he came close. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” Walt said. He appeared thoroughly self-satisfied, which was instantly worrisome. “As I recall, you’ve already met Miss Livingston. I just hired her to get the office in order.”

Josh managed to swallow the “hell, no,” that instantly leaped into his mouth. “Really?” he choked out instead. If it wasn’t one complication, it was another.

“Yep. I’ve been thinking about doing it, and she came along at the right moment.”

Tara’s eyes sparkled, and Josh was sure she’d guessed his reaction.

“I see,” he said. “Perhaps you could have consulted me first.”

“No point,” Walt informed him stiffly. “I told you I’d take care of things. Tara, when will you be starting?”

“Monday.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you then.” With that, he limped toward the main house.

Josh watched his grandfather’s retreating figure in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Tara, “there’s been a mistake. This is my ranch now, and I’m still evaluating what to do with the office. Your services won’t be needed.”

A smile played on her lips. “It isn’t your decision. Mr. Nelson was very clear that he was hiring me, not the ranch.”

“That doesn’t make any difference,” Josh returned quickly. “Please tell my grandfather that you can’t work for him. Anyway, I understand you’re here on an extended vacation. Why would you want a job?”

She shrugged, and he couldn’t help noticing the way her silk blouse slid over her breasts. Crap. It didn’t make sense—Lauren had never made him react this way.

“It really isn’t a vacation, I’m here to get to know my sister,” she said. “But Lauren has her own job and I’m not used to being idle. So when folks started asking if I was available to work, I thought it was a good way to keep occupied.”

“Why the Boxing N?”

“It’s as good a place as any. I’m taking contracts at more than one location, but I have a feeling this will be my favorite.”

“If you’ve got employment elsewhere, you don’t need to work here.”

Tara’s blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not for you to tell me what to do.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing. I was just pointing out that you don’t seem to need the job here.”

“Are you also the arbiter of what I need?”

“I didn’t say that, either,” Josh insisted.

“Sure you did. What’s your problem, anyhow? I’m only asking because I’ll be working at the Boxing N and your attitude affects me.”

His head was starting to spin. “Then quit.”

She shrugged. “Technically I’m a freelance contractor, but regardless, I have no intention of quitting. And if you think you can fire me, reconsider the thought. Do I need to point out again that Mr. Nelson made it very clear that I’ll be working for him, not the ranch? I’ll be looking out for his interests, not yours.”

Josh counted to ten, then to ten once more. She had him over a barrel. As much as he wanted to lay down the law to his grandfather, he couldn’t disenfranchise the old guy. Besides, if Walt had hired Tara as his personal employee or contractor, nobody else could fire her. Well, since he owned the Boxing N now, he could restrict her access to the ranch, but he could imagine the explosion that would follow.

For a brief second, Josh considered trying to convince Tara to help him get Walt to be more reasonable, but she’d made it clear where her loyalties lay.

“Very well,” Josh said in a stiff, formal tone. “At the very least, I’d appreciate reports about your progress in the office.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Walt for any updates he wants to share.”

She marched to her car and got behind the wheel. Waving as though they’d simply had a cordial chat, she drove down the road toward the main entrance.

Damn, she was aggravating.

His thoughts spinning, Josh returned to his porch, even more discouraged than when he’d gotten off the phone with the retired pharmacist. Without treating Walt with a disrespect he didn’t deserve, Josh couldn’t fire Tara, and he couldn’t direct her work since he wasn’t the one paying her.

A grim humor shook him.

One thing he had to give to his grandfather—he was a wily old coot. Walt had planned ahead, hired Tara and made sure she knew he was the one writing her paychecks. Josh couldn’t help wondering why. There were qualified secretaries and accountants in Schuyler that Walt could have employed. Of course it was doubtful that any of them looked like Tara—so what was the possibility that his grandfather had been bowled over by a young woman’s beauty? Not in an inappropriate way, but the way an old man appreciates the reminders of youth and a young man’s vigor.

Josh didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. Of one thing he was sure—Walt was a stiff-necked pain in the ass and couldn’t let go of controlling the ranch, but he was honorable. And on that, Josh trusted they had a small amount of common ground.

* * *

CARL STANFIELD PULLED to a stop at the light and waved at Emmett Foster as he crossed in front of the sheriff’s cruiser. Emmett was around sixty and ornery as sin, but Carl liked him. It was hard not to like most of the people in Schuyler. That wasn’t to say his job was heaven on earth. No job—and no town—was perfect. But on average, it was considerably calmer in Schuyler than in St. Louis, where he’d worked for a good deal of his career.

St. Louis was a great place, but it was still a city. And after being a homicide detective for a decade, few things surprised Carl anymore—he’d pretty much seen the worst.

But in Schuyler he saw a lot of the best. Of course, he also had to deal with the occasional cattle theft. Then there was the time he’d arrested a guy for a DUI because he was drunk while riding a horse. Not that a DUI while riding a horse would hold up in court—officially the charge was drunk and disorderly—but folks in Schuyler loved the story.

After parking at the medical center, Carl went inside.

“Hi, Karen,” he greeted the receptionist. “It isn’t an emergency, but does Lauren have a minute?”

“I’ll check when she’s finished with her patient.”

“Great.”

Unable to relax, Carl stood at the window watching the traffic pass in the street. He’d been in Schuyler for over two years and it was working out well.

Now he wanted to get his personal life on track. When he’d lived in St. Louis, the idea of settling down had held little appeal. The divorce rate among cops was disturbingly high, but things seemed different in Schuyler. A small town sheriff surely had a better shot at a successful marriage than a homicide detective working all hours of the day and night. Besides, the town felt like a good place to settle down and raise a family.

Not that Schuyler didn’t have its pitfalls. The area had quite a history of ranch rivalries and family loyalties, which was why the county supervisors had decided to look for law enforcement from outside the area. For the same reason, Carl had realized it might be best to date women who were relatively new to town...such as Lauren. Well, Lauren was the only one he’d dated, but there was something special about her.

“Carl?” Karen said, breaking into his thoughts.

He swung around. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you wait in Lauren’s office?”

“Sure.”

That was better. He’d rather not talk to Lauren in front of the waiting patients, and particularly not in front of Karen after their recent encounter at Ryan’s Roadhouse. She and her boyfriend had just broken up and she’d had more than her share of booze, though to her credit she’d given her car keys to the bartender the minute she ordered her first Long Island iced tea. Somehow she’d consumed five of them and had still been sitting upright.

Poor kid. She’d cried on his shoulder and asked what was wrong with her...following the question with a passionate kiss. Carl had declined the overture and made sure she got home safely. He doubted she remembered much about the evening and would rather keep it that way.

Karen gestured to the door on her left. “Go ahead. Room ten.”

Carl spotted Lauren at a computer station as he turned the corner. She was entering information, only looking up when a patient approached her with a question. As she talked to the man and his child, her face lit with the smile that had drawn Carl from the first time they’d met.

Smiling himself, he stepped into her office.

He’d liked Lauren from their initial meeting at the Hawkins wedding and had been pleased when she decided to move to Schuyler. As the story went, a few days after the wedding she’d called the clinic to see if a job was available. A month later she was living in Schuyler. It was easy to imagine how delighted the clinic had been to hire a PA who didn’t have to be convinced that moving to a remote town, two hours from a commercial airport, wasn’t a fate worse than death.

Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t changed her mind once she’d arrived and faced the prospect of a long Montana winter. Could that be part of the reason she’d started putting him off...uncertainty she wanted to stay, after all?

Carl was annoyed at himself for making excuses for her refusals; he didn’t suffer from a lack of confidence, but Lauren’s absence of enthusiasm had tweaked his ego, especially since his instincts said that she liked him.

Restless, he got to his feet again. The office suited Lauren—well organized with personal touches that made it inviting without being unprofessional. On the bookshelves were a few photos of an older man and woman—presumably her adoptive parents—along with one that appeared to be a selfie of her and Tara Livingston in Paris, the Eiffel Tower behind them.

Just then the door opened behind him, and he turned around. It was Lauren.

“Hi, Carl,” she said as she came into the room. “Karen mentioned you needed to see me. Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. I was driving past and wanted to touch base with you about tomorrow evening. We’ve tried some places here, so how about going to Windy Bluffs for dinner? There’s a steak house, an Italian place, Mexican and Chinese. The Chinese place isn’t as good as it could be, but it’s edible. Does one of them sound okay to you?”

“All of them, I guess.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Uh...usually Chinese,” she told him, looking nervous. “But if it isn’t that good, maybe it would be best to go elsewhere. How about the...um, Mexican restaurant?”

“Fabulous,” he answered, pleased. Deep inside he’d wondered if she would say she didn’t want to go out with him again after all. “Maybe after dinner we could see a movie, or perhaps take a walk along the river.”

“Either would be nice. The trail beside the water is pretty, though I’m uncomfortable going there alone.”

“It isn’t a good idea to go into isolated areas by yourself,” Carl agreed. “Let’s see what appeals once we finish dinner. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“I won’t keep you—I know how busy this place is. How about tomorrow at five?”

“Sure.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Carl walked out, refraining from whistling. She hadn’t canceled and seemed to be okay with his suggestions for the following evening.

Eating in Windy Bluffs had been his top choice, since he preferred going someplace where fewer people knew them. He had yet to eat a meal out in Schuyler without townspeople stopping to chat. As a rule he welcomed it, since law enforcement in a small community was partly about building relationships. But it had made his first dates with Lauren awkward to have so many interruptions.

Carl let loose a whistle as he climbed into his cruiser. Life in Schuyler was good.

* * *

LAUREN’S HAND SHOOK as she picked up the chart for her last patient of the day. When Carl had asked what restaurant she preferred, she’d forced herself to say something definite as a preference. She’d read that men usually wanted women to be clear about their choices.

After dealing with Mrs. Whittier’s “sore” ear—the elderly widow mostly came to the clinic for company—Lauren walked to the Roundup Café to meet Tara for supper.

“Hi,” she greeted her twin. “How was your day?”

Tara smiled, an impish expression on her face. “I had a very interesting afternoon. Walt Nelson hired me to work in his ranch office, and Josh McGregor did his best to end the job before it began.”

“He fired you?” Lauren asked, dismayed. She’d be sick if someone did that to her, but Tara didn’t seem disturbed in the least.

“Nope,” her sister answered cheerfully. “He asked me to quit. I refused and we argued like seven-year-olds grabbing for the same ice cream cone.”

Lauren was amazed her sister could be so nonchalant. She wished she could be equally at ease with confrontation, but she’d learned at a young age how destructive arguments could be. Her adoptive parents had loved her, but they’d also hoped having a second child would heal their marital woes.

She’d been six when they’d taken her in. Her new mother had dressed her in pretty clothing, and her new daddy had proudly introduced her as his daughter. But they hadn’t stopped arguing, and her new family had always appeared to be crumbling. Then when she was in high school, it fell apart completely.

She had responded by avoiding any sort of conflict. Her brother had responded to their parents’ disastrous marriage by becoming a philandering jerk. It was always painful to think about him.

“Do you...er, think Josh is really opposed to you working there?” she asked, trying to push away her memories and the nausea they inspired. Mostly she didn’t like that aspect of the person she’d become, startled by her own shadow and wanting to jump in a rabbit hole whenever someone raised their voice.

“Oh, yes,” Tara said, “he definitely doesn’t want me there.”

“Won’t it be difficult to work for Mr. Nelson if Josh is upset about it?”

“Not for me. I’m going to talk with Walt again to establish guidelines. If he has any concerns, we’ll iron them out then. As for any issues Josh might have, that’s his problem.”

Lauren tried to relax and adopt her sister’s offhand attitude. It hurt to think they could have grown up together, and she had an idea that she might feel stronger if she’d had an ally all those years ago. She’d certainly taken enough psychology classes to see how it could have made a difference.

Silly. That wasn’t the way it had happened, and there wasn’t any point to thinking about the might-have-beens. At least she’d had a family, however troubled, and her parents loved her, regardless of how their marriage had ended. Tara didn’t have anyone and had never had a real home. Maybe that was why she didn’t worry about where she lived and always seemed to be looking at what was over the horizon.

It was odd, the way things had turned out.

* * *

THE NEXT AFTERNOON Lauren’s nerves were tighter than ever. She wanted to ask Tara to come over while she got ready for dinner, except it would have meant revealing her tension over going out with Carl Stanfield.

The phone rang, and she jumped. She grabbed the handset, disgusted with herself for hoping it was Carl, regretfully canceling their evening. “Hello.”

“Hey, Lauren,” Emily said. “What are you wearing for the big date?”

“It isn’t a big date,” Lauren corrected automatically. “We’re just going out to dinner. That is, we’ve already gone out a number of times, so it isn’t something to get carried away about.”

“If you say so. What are you going to wear?”

“I thought my black blouse and the matching wraparound skirt.”

“Not bad. Just accessorize with something that makes a statement.” Emily’s parents were clothing buyers and her sister a supermodel, so she knew what she was talking about.

“I’m not good at making statements.”

The doorbell rang. “Sorry, Em, someone’s here. I’ve gotta go,” Lauren said, disconnecting and running to answer it. She found Emily there, grinning at her, cell phone still to her ear. It almost seemed like old times back in LA, except Emily hadn’t been pregnant then.

Emily came inside and settled on the couch, putting her feet on a stool. “I love being pregnant, but my feet swell. Okay, fashion-show time. Go get dressed.”

Lauren put on the black skirt and blouse she’d bought in Los Angeles while shopping with Emily. Her friend helped her choose a silver scarf to wear at her waist and place a large silver pin on her shoulder.

“You look terrific,” Emily said when she got up to leave.

“I can’t compete with Tara’s elegance,” Lauren answered. In contrast to her twin’s sophistication, she felt as if she was a country bumpkin. Before they’d met, Lauren had figured she and her sister would be alike. After all, they were identical twins and she’d read stories of separated twins discovering amazing similarities and parallels in their lives. So far it hadn’t worked out that way.

“Why would you want to compete with Tara?” Emily countered. “Her clothes work for her, but you have to be yourself, and anyone worth knowing would agree with me.”

Lauren choked out a laugh and said good-night to her friend—at least she was going home to a husband who adored her.

The doorbell rang a short time later. It was Carl, deliciously handsome in a tan sports jacket.

His gaze ran over her in what seemed to be appreciation.

“You look amazing,” he told her.

“I had help. Emily came over.”

He smiled. “I’m flattered. You called in a fashion consultant for our evening together.”

His interpretation was nice and she decided not to explain that her friend’s most important contribution had been to calm her shaky nerves. It couldn’t take much longer before he figured out what she was really like, and a dull melancholy went through her at the thought.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHEN TARA ARRIVED at the Boxing N on Monday morning, Josh McGregor met her at the office and she wondered if he’d make another attempt to get her to quit.

“The building is quite old. It was converted to the ranch office after my grandparents were married,” he explained as they stepped inside. “Before that it was used for guests and as a second bunkhouse during the busy season.”

“Where was the office before?” she asked.

“The house. The ranch hands were in and out a lot, and they smoked cigars. The tobacco made my grandmother ill, so she probably asked if operations could be shifted to another location.”

From the corner of her eye she noticed Walt had come through the open door and was listening.

“The other day I found some historical records, including an invoice from the 1800s,” she murmured.

“Really?” Josh seemed interested. “I wouldn’t want anything like that thrown away.”

She deliberately turned to address his grandfather. “Walt, I don’t dispose of anything unless I’m asked to discard items older than a particular date.”

The elderly man appeared to be assessing the situation.

“Older than a certain date?” Josh repeated.

“There are legalities involved with record keeping, but it’s an owner’s decision what to do with paperwork that no longer has tax or other legal implications.”

“Okay. Put that sort of thing in boxes and I’ll check it over.”

“You aren’t my employer, Mr. McGregor. Walt, shall I organize any historic material I locate?” she asked. Walt grinned while a flash of anger crossed Josh’s face.

Walt nodded. “Can it be stored in a way that makes sense?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, but I’d suggest using archival storage materials. A lot of paper today is acidic, so putting old documents into files without protecting them could be damaging.”

“Get whatever you need,” Josh put in hastily. “We have an office supply store in Schuyler, and if they don’t have what you require, they can order it.”

Walt jutted out his chin. “I’ll phone and tell the store you’ll be making purchases for the Boxing N. They can bill me.”

The two men stared at each other in silent combat, and Tara didn’t want to find out how long it would take for one of them to back down.

“That’s fine,” she interjected. “Walt, we didn’t talk about whether office records should also be computerized.”

“No,” Walt replied immediately.

“Yes,” Josh said at the same time.

“You’re working for me,” Walt reminded her.

“Then I’ll hire you, too,” Josh asked. “Everything needs to be computerized.”

Tara’s head was beginning to ache; the tension between the two men was palpable. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but her sympathies were entirely with Walt.

“Perhaps this could be sorted out another time,” she said finally.

With a stiff, angry nod, Josh stomped out of the office building.

Walt settled into one of the comfortable chairs at the opposite end of the room while she started to work.

“My grandson is wrong,” he said after several minutes.

“About what?”

“Evelyn didn’t ask me to move my office out of the house. But I could tell cigar smoke bothered her, so I moved into this place.”

The wistful expression in the old man’s eyes made Tara curious, but she didn’t try to probe.

“That was thoughtful,” she answered.

“I would have done anything for my wife...at least, that’s what I always claimed. She was an amazing woman. I should have...”

His voice trailed off, and he looked at the window behind her, though she didn’t think it was the garden he was seeing. She’d learned the Nelsons had been in a terrible car accident the previous autumn; Evelyn had lingered for a few days before she passed, and Walt had been left with a painful limp. It was dreadfully unfair that he would have to spend his senior years without his wife. Again she felt that odd, powerful liking for the older man. His obvious loneliness reminded Tara of how solitary her own life was.

Since he seemed lost in thought again, Tara returned her attention to the chaotic office. Organizing it would take some time. The system—such as it was—appeared to be limited to creating the piles of papers she’d seen the first day, along with battered boxes and paper bags. Instead of holding paperwork, the ancient filing cabinets were stuffed with a miscellany of items.

After a while Tara glanced up and saw Walt had left. That made things easier. She combined several partial boxes so she’d have containers to unload the cabinets. Opening one of the file drawers, she pulled out a large tangle of leather straps.

“What have you got there?” Josh McGregor asked.

Tara jerked at the unexpected voice, her heart skipping. She made a mental note to keep the office door closed while she worked and to look for a bell that could alert her when anyone was entering. For such tall men, both Walt and his grandson moved quietly, and she didn’t enjoy being surprised. One coworker had claimed she was worse than a cat, jumping whenever startled.

She examined the dried-up leather straps and metal pieces. “It appears to be old horse tackle.”

“What a terrific place to keep something like that.”

Though Tara silently agreed, she was annoyed by Josh’s wry tone. Equally annoying tingles shot through her as he brushed her arm, lifting the jumble from her hands.

“I doubt this has been used for thirty or forty years. It isn’t worth much now, but I’ll see if there’s anything that can be salvaged.”

She hesitated. The relationship between grandfather and grandson was obviously complicated, and they were putting her in the middle; she was starting to feel like a bone being growled over by two dogs. “I’ll discuss it with Walt,” she told him firmly.

Josh’s jaw tensed in a way that was rapidly growing familiar; he and his grandfather both seemed to have the same ticking muscle on their jawlines.

“Ms. Livingston, as I told you before, I own the Boxing N. My grandfather deeded it to me several months ago.”

“How soon after he got out of the hospital?”

Josh flinched. “The week after he got out of the rehab center, not that it’s any of your concern. He contacted his lawyer without telling anyone in the family what he was doing. Apparently he’s had the documents ready since my college graduation.”

“And now you’re determined to show him who’s in command.”

“That’s ridiculous, but a ranch has to have one boss, and Grandpa has made me legally responsible for everything that goes on here. I’ve got cowhands quitting because he keeps interfering, yet he no longer has the physical strength to do what needs to be done.”

It was a reasonable explanation, especially the part about being legally responsible, but Tara still sympathized with Walt. He’d spent a lifetime running the Boxing N, and giving up control must be difficult.

“At the risk of repeating myself, Walt hired me, not you,” she said evenly.

“And, as I said earlier, I’d like to hire you, as well. If you’re organizing the records anyway, it makes sense to do the computer work at the same time. Right?”

“I don’t care if it makes sense,” she declared. “What I do here is up to Walt, and he doesn’t want that. Would it hurt you to wait? Or are you trying to force equipment on him that he’s never used, hoping to push him out of the way?”

“You don’t know anything about it. Whether you like it or not, I’m having a computer delivered this week, along with a scanner and the other equipment needed to move this ranch into the twenty-first century.”

“Fine, but my using it depends upon Walt, so that equipment may not get a workout until you hire an office manager and shuffle him into an old folks’ home.”

“I’m not trying to shuffle him anywhere,” Josh hissed. “It isn’t any of your business, but for your information, I’m trying to give him some dignity and still keep this place running.”

“That isn’t what it looks like from my standpoint.”

Josh closed his eyes in obvious frustration.

“I’ll talk to my grandfather about the computer work,” he finally told her.

“Talk or demand?”

His jaw tightened again, but he picked up the armload of horse tackle and headed for the door without saying anything else.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Tara said before he could leave.

He froze. “What?”

“Walt has a huge amount of experience running a ranch, and caution isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Why are you so opposed to learning from him? Has the business really changed that much?”

“You’d be surprised. As for learning from my grandfather, he can be challenging.”

She smiled faintly, knowing it would annoy Josh. “Actually, I think he’s delightful.”

* * *

AS JOSH WENT DOWN the steps of the office, he saw his grandfather coming from the direction of the horse barn.

Delightful? Much as he loved the old guy, delightful wasn’t the word he’d choose.

“This was in a filing cabinet,” he said, indicating the armload he carried. “I’ll get rid of it if there’s nothing useful.”

“I don’t give a crap. But I’m telling Tara I want everything computerized since you’re so highfalutin sure it’s needed.”

“I just asked her to do that,” Josh returned, all too aware that his request hadn’t gone anywhere. Tara was one of the most infuriating women he’d ever met.

“She’s working for me, so I’ll do the asking.”

Why couldn’t his grandfather let go of one blessed thing?

Tension crept up Josh’s neck. He could have bought a different ranch years ago when a spread south of Schuyler had come up for sale. He’d checked the place out and almost made an offer, but in the end it had felt as if he would be giving up on his heritage.

Josh glanced toward the rolling grassland studded with trees and livestock. His roots were here; the Boxing N had been in his mother’s family since the 1800s, and in the distance it gave way to mountains that were strikingly beautiful. Back then the land had been cheap, and his Nelson ancestors had bought a vast section of the lower mountainous region as part of the Boxing N, even though it didn’t support many cattle per acre.

Walt was slowly limping toward the office.

Josh sighed and followed. He caught up and endured his grandfather’s sour frown as they mounted the three steps. Hellfire, he wanted a good relationship with Walt, but few people, if any, had ever gotten close to him. Walt was like the land itself—unyielding, sometimes unforgiving, and oblivious to the changing times.

Inside they found Tara lifting an old hand water pump from a drawer; she glanced up as she dropped it onto the desk. She’d removed her suit jacket and there were smudges of dirt across the breast line of her blouse. Josh swallowed. Tara was bad news from start to finish, and he had no intention of allowing his attraction to her to go anywhere.

“Is something up?” she asked, her face becoming expressionless.

It struck Josh that her reactions generally seemed measured. Even when arguing with him, he’d had the impression her emotions were carefully controlled. He didn’t trust that kind of restraint. As a rule the McGregors and Nelsons were passionate people; it might mean extra conflicts along the way, but at least you knew where you stood.

“My grandfather wants to expand your work parameters,” he said before Walt could explain.

Walt deserved his dignity, but so did he. He certainly didn’t deserve to be treated as if he was thirteen instead of thirty-three.

“I’ve been thinking about my grandson’s la-di-da modern ideas.” Walt huffed. “So I’ve decided you should take care of that computer stuff. Do it whatever way you think it should be done. You’re the expert.” His tone plainly indicated he didn’t think Josh possessed expertise of any kind.

“Of course,” Tara replied. “Do you also want me to set up a system where bills can be paid online and checks can be printed?”

“Online?” Walt asked.

“Through the internet.”

How anyone could be unfamiliar with the concept, Josh didn’t know, but he suspected Tara was speaking a foreign language as far as his grandfather was concerned. Josh would have lunged forward with an emphatic yes, but something in her eyes kept him quiet. She’d aligned herself with Walt and would find a way to do things his way, even on the computer. When the time came, Josh was sure he’d have to do a lot of extra work getting things changed to the way he wanted.

“Is that how other ranches do business?” Walt asked.

“I can’t speak for other ranches,” Tara said, “but I’ve seen how much time the process saves.”

“Okay, do it. Get whatever you need for that inter...online thing.”

“Well, it’s not quite that simple...”

Behind Walt’s back, Josh shook his head and gave her an intense glare, to which she only raised an eyebrow.

“You have to have internet service here at the office,” she explained to Walt, “along with a computer, of course.”

“Get whatever you need.”

“All right.”

He limped out, and Josh smiled blandly at Tara. “I already told you that, as the owner, I will make the arrangements for whatever is required here at the office.”

“Certainly.” She returned his smile with one as carefully bland as his own.

He’d always preferred women who were more easygoing, so why did this chilly cucumber make him so aware of her?

“Why didn’t you want me to explain the internet to Walt?” she asked.

“Because he’s an old-time cattleman and doesn’t understand.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t understand, provided the people around him don’t treat him as a senile old man. Or as a child, for that matter. He’s obviously still sharp.”

“I’m not treating him that way.”

“Ha.” She shrugged, and he glanced away, not wanting to watch the movement of the soft fabric of her blouse.

“Incidentally,” he said, “you might find jeans and a T-shirt more practical on the Boxing N than silk.”

“Thank you so much for the advice,” she returned with an edge of sarcasm. It was probably deserved; he didn’t have any business suggesting what sort of clothing she should wear.

“Just leave the nonoffice items near the door,” he said. “I’ll get them out of your way later.”

“If that’s what Walt wants me to do.”

Seething with anger, Josh left. At least he was going to get the office and accounts computerized, but he wasn’t sure if he’d won or lost the latest skirmish. He didn’t even know if winning and losing was the point. If he won, then his grandfather lost. But if things didn’t get into shape soon, his reputation would suffer, and the ranch might be hard to keep going.

Josh’s trust fund was generous, but he’d quietly used some of it to pay his grandparents’ medical bills not covered by insurance. There was also the question of gift taxes on the Boxing N, which he fully expected to pay instead of his grandfather. The remaining principal, while substantial, couldn’t support a failing proposition forever.

* * *

LAUREN MOVED FROM one patient to another as quickly as possible. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up behind schedule, and that wasn’t fair to Tara—her sister was cutting her first day at the Boxing N short so they could spend the afternoon together. They had planned to do it the previous Friday, but the other physician’s assistant had called, asking her to trade shifts because his wife was ill.

Her nerves were on edge for fear that Carl might stop by again. It was ironic, because she’d enjoyed her date with him even more than the first ones. After dinner, they’d walked along the river while the sun dropped low in the sky and cast a rosy light over the landscape.

When she’d described the setting to Tara, her sister had made a dry comment about Carl devising the ideal romantic moment, only to quickly apologize. They hadn’t discussed men that much, but Lauren suspected that neither of them had a stellar record.

“I heard that you and Sheriff Stanfield went out this weekend,” Ethel Carter commented as Lauren took her blood pressure.

The nurse had taken it earlier, but the first check was always high. Mrs. Carter got stressed when she walked into the clinic, a case of white-coat syndrome, as it was called. Some medical professionals discounted the condition, but Lauren was a believer.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Virginia was at the senior center exercise group this morning. Her daughter lives in Windy Bluffs and saw you at the Mexican restaurant. It’s nice that you’re still going out together.”

Great. Gossip was the last thing Lauren needed. Emily had warned her when she’d moved to Schuyler that it was the most popular form of entertainment in town.

“We’re friends,” Lauren said as though it didn’t matter very much. It was true. She and Carl were friends. “Are you taking your blood pressure medicine every day?”

“Whenever I remember.”

“It’s important to be consistent, okay? We can talk about ways to make that easier at your next appointment.”

“Of course, dear. Did you and the sheriff have a nice evening together?”

“La Bonita is a terrific restaurant, and their fresh salsa is fantastic. I’m going to take my sister there soon.”

Ethel looked disappointed and might have tried probing further, but Lauren patted her shoulder and handed over several prescription refills.

“Keep up the exercise,” she instructed. “It’s obviously doing you good.”

Ethel’s face creased into a smile. “I only started because you kept urging me to try. I do feel better. The arthritis doesn’t hurt as much, and I have more energy.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Lauren went on to her next patient, hoping she wouldn’t have to field more questions about her and Carl Stanfield. It could get really old, really fast.

* * *

TARA SPENT THE remainder of the morning cleaning out the rest of the file cabinets and emptying cupboards of equipment that had nothing to do with office work. Most of it couldn’t have been used in decades, and she couldn’t even tell what some items were. She recognized spurs, of course, and rusted samples of barbed wire. The rest was pretty strange, reminiscent of medieval torture implements she’d seen in museums across Europe.

She mentioned it when Walt came in and he chuckled. “The animals might have agreed. We’re a little more modern with our methods now, but I gotta admit that I still don’t enjoy branding time. If I’d ever found those sapphires in the mountains, I might have even given up on cattle ranching and stuck with horse breeding.”

“Sapphires?” Tara exclaimed, her imagination stirring. “I didn’t know they had any in Montana.”

“They do, and my grandpa used to say his dad once found some on the Boxing N. As a kid I searched plenty and finally gave up.”

“A treasure hunt. Exciting.”

“True. It was great fun.” The old man’s eyes gleamed with the memories.

Walt had brought her more boxes, and when he’d left again she began filling them, taking digital photos of each item. If she could have identified everything with a name, she would have merely logged them, but this was the only way she knew how to keep track. Walt probably didn’t care, but in light of the contentious relationship he had with his grandson, she wanted to keep a record of everything she did in the office.

At noon she tidied up and stepped out to the small porch, looking around for Walt. He wasn’t there, so she headed for the main house and knocked.

“Is there something you need?” Josh’s voice came from behind, startling her.

Tara turned. “Not exactly. I’m leaving and didn’t know whether the office should be locked.”

“You’re leaving? It’s only noon.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I set my own hours. And need I remind you that it isn’t any of your business?”

“I see.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you see or not. Walt knows my hours will vary depending upon my sister’s schedule and my other commitments.”

“You don’t have to work here at all,” he offered quickly.

“Yeah, I understood that the first time you mentioned it,” she returned. “Now, should the office door be locked or not?”

“I’ll lock it and have a key made for you.”

“Thank you.”

To the left of where they stood, the porch was secluded, the view of the ranch obscured by a blooming vine that released a lovely scent, teasing Tara’s senses. She could see how it might be hard to find a private outdoor space, even out in the country, and this was the kind of quiet spot where a husband and wife could steal a moment together.

Josh cocked his head. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, curiosity in his eyes.

“Oh.” She gestured at the corner of the porch. “I was just thinking how the vines must have given your grandparents a nice place to share a kiss in the middle of the day. You know, where no one else was likely to see.”

She’d made the comment specific to his grandparents, uncomfortable with the thought that any couple might find it a pleasant place for intimacies. The scent of the flowers was evocative, making her mind conjure images that didn’t belong there. After all, she wasn’t good at physical intimacy. Or any form of intimacy, for that matter.

“Nice thought, but off base, I’m afraid,” Josh responded quietly. “My grandparents led somewhat separate lives. They had little in common. Grandma came from the city, and city girls don’t adjust well to Montana ranches. I’m sure they cared for each other, but I doubt their marriage would have lasted in today’s world.”

Tara hid her shock at Josh’s blunt statement. It seemed at odds with Walt’s painful declaration about his wife earlier that morning. What had he said...that he’d have done anything for her?

Josh gave her a narrow look. “I’m only telling you because if you have a sentimental belief that Grandpa is desperately pining for his wife and needs your support, you can relax.”

“No worries,” she answered evenly. “Thanks for being original this time. Were you hoping I’d lose sympathy for Walt and want to leave?”

“That isn’t what I was doing,” he insisted, though the faint chagrin in his face told her differently. “I meant to ask before, what about all those boxes I saw my grandfather bringing to the office?” It was an obvious effort to changes the subject.

“They were for the nonoffice items. Walt is going to store them somewhere else. I couldn’t catalog the contents since I didn’t recognize most of the stuff, but I took pictures so there would be a record.”

“Isn’t that overkill?”

“It seemed best under the circumstances. Uh... Walt told me there might be sapphires on the Boxing N.”

“That’s a family myth. I ordered a survey ten years ago, and there’s nothing here.”

“Surveys can be wrong. Walt was so energized when he told me about searching for them as a kid, it occurred to me that another search might give him a new purpose.”

Josh’s eyes flared. “The last thing he needs is to get revved up about something utterly pointless.”

“I thought you’d prefer getting him interested in something other than the ranch.”

“That wouldn’t stop his interfering—it would just add a new layer of complication.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong, and I’m going to talk with Walt about it.”

She went to her rental car, refusing to look back to see if Josh was watching.

It was only in the car that she glanced at the rearview mirror. While Josh was still standing in front of the large house, it was hard to know if he was looking her way or at one of the nearby barns.

Not that it mattered. She wasn’t interested in him as a man. With that reminder, Tara started her sedan and drove steadily down the gravel road.

CHAPTER FIVE

JOSH DIDN’T SLEEP WELL; he was too frustrated over the way Tara was making his life even more of a challenge. Sapphire hunting was fine for children to dream about, but Walt was an old man with disabling injuries. He didn’t need to get excited about something he couldn’t possibly do. Josh enjoyed rock hunting and polishing as a hobby, though he had little time for it these days. But it had been a long time since he’d wasted his energy on thoughts of finding gemstones.

Despite his lack of rest, Josh was out before dawn the next morning so he could deal with the boxes Tara had packed. He’d wanted to do it the previous afternoon, but there hadn’t been time after a series of panicked calls from one of the young cowhands he’d finally managed to employ.

“I wouldn’t have hired such a kid,” Walt had snorted.

“He was the best of the applicants,” Josh had returned as politely as possible. He didn’t want to explain that word had gotten around about Walt’s behavior and experienced hands were avoiding the Boxing N. With a little luck, that would begin changing soon. In the meantime he was trying to pair the new guys with ones who’d been around longer.

Fortunately his grandfather had been kept too busy in the foaling barn to think about anything else—hired hands, boxes or sapphires. Walt had two mares on the verge of foaling and tended to baby them. Otherwise he probably would have moved the boxes himself. At the very least he would have tried, but there were times when he barely managed to keep himself upright; the last thing he needed was to fall under a heavy load. Several surgeries had saved his leg, but it didn’t have the strength to do much.

Josh stacked the boxes in the foreman’s house; he’d go through them when he had a chance, although it was unlikely they contained much of value.

After a quick breakfast, he went out to give orders to the ranch hands; at least they’d all shown up for work and nobody had quit for several days. Perhaps he should be grateful for small blessings.

He returned to the office, hoping that Walt wouldn’t decide to go, as well. But his grandfather was already there, glaring at the empty space next to the door.

“What did you do with everything?” he demanded.

“Hauled it out.”

“I was going to do that.”

“Now you don’t have to,” Josh told him. Grandpa’s doctor had told him to avoid heavy lifting, but he had trouble accepting limitations.

Tara arrived with two cartons of file folders in her arms.

“Good morning,” she said cheerily. “You know, Walt, I keep wondering about those sapphires you mentioned.”

Josh ground his teeth when she glanced at him with an innocent expression.

Walt grunted. “What do you mean?”

“There are all these old records here in the office. Could there be anything more specific about the location?”

“Don’t know, but it’s worth checking. Keep your eyes peeled,” Walt urged. “Right now I’ve gotta go check on Belle.”

Trying to control his temper, Josh waited until he and Tara were alone, then he started looking through a stack of papers on the desk. Obviously there was no point debating the sapphire issue; Tara was clearly determined to do the opposite of what he wanted.

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