Fortune Hunter’s Hero
Linda Turner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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With special thanks:

First, I need to thank my mother, Margie Turner, for believing in me even when I refused to be on the school newspaper in high school.

My agent, Lettie Lee, and my editor, Gail Chasan, have always had great faith in me, especially over the last few years, when my life turned into a roller coaster. Thank you both so much for your continued support and patience.

And last, but not least, I’d like to thank Frank Bays for keeping me on track—and on deadline—throughout the writing of this book. Thank you, honey, for that…and for keeping your head in the middle of a hurricane in Mexico. What would I do without you?

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Prologue

London, England

Seated with his three sisters in front of Clarence Jones’s desk, Buck Wyatt lifted a dark brow at the solicitor who had worked for the family for as long as he could remember. “All right, we’re all here, as you requested. What the devil’s going on? What’s the big mystery you couldn’t talk about over the telephone? Have we won the lottery or what?”

A slight smile curling the corners of his mouth, Clarence only shrugged. “Possibly. It all depends on you.”

“Are you having a scavenger hunt like you had for your birthday?” Priscilla asked him, intrigued. “You wouldn’t tell us anything then, either.”

“Oh, I hope so!” Katherine said, delighted. “What’s the prize this time? How about a week in Monte Carlo? That would be marvelous! I’ll invite Peter—”

“No one said anything about a scavenger hunt or the lottery,” Elizabeth pointed out dryly. Studying the older man with narrowed eyes that missed little, she warned, “Watch it, Clarence. You’re beginning to resemble kitty when she swallowed the canary. Cough up your secret before we have to pound it out of you.”

“There’s no reason to get physical, Lizzie.” He chuckled, his green eyes twinkling behind the lenses of his glasses. “I do have some good news…possibly.”

“What do you mean…possibly?” Buck retorted. “It either is or it isn’t good, old man. Which is it?”

Far from offended—he’d been a family friend long before he’d become the Wyatts’ solicitor—Clarence chuckled. “Patience, my dear boy. All in good time.” Sobering, he opened the single file that lay in front of him on his desk and added, “I received a copy of Hilda’s will yesterday from her attorney.”

Whatever Buck had been expecting, it wasn’t that. He’d only learned of Hilda Wyatt’s existence three months ago, when he received a letter from her informing him that they were cousins—her grandfather and his great-grandfather were brothers. The two sides of the family had lost touch decades ago when Buck’s great-grandfather moved to London in 1902 as a diplomat, and there was nothing Hilda wanted more than to get the family back together.

Surprised, Buck was in total agreement. He was named after his great-grandfather, who had been quite an adventurer, and one of Buck’s most prized possessions was his namesake’s journals. Reading them as a young boy, he’d been fascinated with the stories his great-grandfather had written about growing up on the family ranch in Colorado. When he was nine, Buck had promised himself that one day he would go to the States and see the Broken Arrow Ranch—if it still existed—firsthand.

Hilda not only confirmed that it still existed, but she’d invited him and the girls to visit next summer. Thrilled, Buck had just begun making travel arrangements last month when he learned that Hilda had unexpectedly died when she’d fallen and broken a hip.

Buck had only spoken to her a few times—he barely knew her—but her death had still come as a shock. Besides his sisters, she had been his only living Wyatt relative, and he’d been looking forward to getting to know her better. He’d had hundreds of questions about his American ancestors, and now those questions would never be answered.

“Why did her attorney send you a copy of her will?” he asked with a frown. “We’d only spoken a few times. I seriously doubt that she would have left us anything. She didn’t even know of our existence until three months ago.”

“That may be,” Clarence agreed, “but she was a spinster and had no children. Leaving the ranch to family was important to her—which is why she left the ranch to the four of you.”

Buck couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d told him the queen had left Buckingham Palace to him and his sisters. “You can’t be serious!”

The solicitor smiled slightly. “It’s in the will, if you’d like to read it.”

“We have a ranch?” Priscilla exclaimed, a look of pure horror on her face. “With cows?”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Elizabeth chided. “You make it sound like Hilda left us a bunch of rattlesnakes or something.” Struck by the thought, she turned to Clarence with wide blue eyes. “Oh my goodness. I suppose there are snakes on a ranch, aren’t there?”

“In all likelihood,” he agreed, amused. “Though they won’t be a problem in the winter.”

“Winter—summer…a snake’s a snake,” Katherine retorted, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “I don’t want anything to do with them.”

“I still don’t understand why she left the ranch to us,” Buck told Clarence with a frown. “She lived there her entire life. Even if she didn’t have children, she must have had a lifelong friend she could have left the place to.”

“The ranch has been in the family since the 1850s,” he replied. “Apparently, she didn’t want to be remembered as the one who gave away the ranch.”

“So she left it to total strangers?”

“No. She left it to family. With stipulations,” he added.

Priscilla sat back with a sigh of disgust. “Here it comes. The strings. Why are there always strings?”

“Hear the man out,” Katherine told her. “It may not be that bad. Maybe she just wants us to make sure there are fresh flowers on her grave every month.”

“Actually, Hilda’s stipulations are a little more involved than that,” Clarence said dryly. “One of you has to be at the ranch at all times for a period of one year.”

“You mean we can’t leave?” Elizabeth asked, surprised. “For an entire year?”

“Oh, any given three of you can leave at anytime,” he assured her. “You can come and go, changes places, trade out—whatever you want to do. But for the period of one year, one of you can’t be absent from the ranch for two or more consecutive nights.”

“And if we are?” Buck asked. “Things come up. We could agree to the stipulation then find ourselves going in four different directions when life interferes. There’s no way to predict what’s going to happen over the course of a year, Clarence. You know that. What happens if one of the girls gets seriously sick and ends up in the hospital? You know we’ll all be there. What happens then?”

“The ranch goes to an unnamed heir,” he said simply.

“For one infraction?” Katherine asked sharply.

He nodded grimly. “Hilda left a sealed letter, naming a new heir, with the will. I have instructions to open it only if you choose not to accept the terms of the will or you can’t fulfill Hilda’s stipulations. If you are able to complete the year without a problem, the letter will be shredded and the ranch is yours.”

Glancing from Buck to each of his sisters, the older man lifted a grizzled brow. “Well? What do you think? Is this an impossible task for the four of you or do you think you can pull it off?”

“Pull it off?” Priscilla exclaimed. “How can we? I don’t know about everyone else, but I don’t want to live in the wilds of Colorado! There can’t be any decent clubs there. And they drink ice in their tea, for heaven’s sake. How barbaric is that?”

Elizabeth grinned. “They also drive on the wrong side of the road!”

“Oh, God, you’re right,” Katherine groaned. “We’ll have to buy an American car and learn to drive all over again. We’ll have to take a driving test, won’t we? On the wrong side of the road!”

“Don’t blame the roads.” Buck laughed. “You’d have a hard time passing the test here at home again.”

“Just because I like speed—”

“Don’t fight, children,” Clarence said dryly. “That’s not why you’re here.”

“He’s right,” Buck agreed. “You’re all worrying about nothing. You can stay here. I’ll go to America.”

“Forever?”

Buck had to laugh at Priscilla’s horrified tone. “I’m not going to the moon, Pris, just Colorado. You know I’ve always wanted to see the ranch. This is my chance.”

“What about Melissa? Don’t you think you should discuss this with her first?”

At the mention of his fiancée, he smiled. “Melissa was all set to go with us to the ranch before Hilda died. I don’t think she’ll have a problem with the move. She’s been wanting to visit the States for a long time.”

The girls exchanged a speaking look, but none of them pointed out that visiting a country and moving there to live were two different things. Instead, Clarence arched a thick gray brow and said, “Then you agree to accept the terms of the will?”

Buck looked at his sisters. “Well?”

Priscilla hesitated, but in the end, she nodded, along with her sisters. “If you need a break and need someone to come and stay for a while, we can take turns flying over.”

The matter settled, Buck said, “When do we have to be there?”

“By Friday.”

“Friday!”

When they all spoke in unison, he grinned. “I’m just following the instructions in Hilda’s will.” Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he pulled out a set of keys and handed them to Buck. “Joshua Douglas, Hilda’s lawyer in Colorado, forwarded these to me, along with the copy of her will. If you have any problems when you arrive in Colorado, he will be happy to help you.”

“As long as we’re not absent from the ranch for more than two consecutive nights,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Then he’s going to evict us and hand the place over to someone else.”

“I have every confidence that between the four of you, you’re not going to let that happen.”

“No, we’re not,” Buck said grimly. “My grandfather told me stories his father and grandfather told him about growing up on the ranch. And they all left written records of their life on the Broken Arrow. We’re not going to be the generation that loses it.”

Chapter 1

Broken Arrow Ranch, Colorado Four Months Later

“We’ve got another problem. The back-up generator’s not working.”

In the process of replacing a dripping faucet in the kitchen, Buck looked up at his foreman with a quick frown. “You’re joking, right?”

Even as he asked, he knew he wasn’t. David Saenz wasn’t the kind of man who joked about much of anything. In fact, Buck had hired David four months ago, right after he’d arrived in Colorado and discovered the condition the ranch was in, and in all that time, he’d only seen David crack a smile a handful of times. Not, he admitted, that there was a lot to smile about. The family homestead that he’d been so anxious to claim as his and his sisters’ inheritance was falling down around his ears.

Needless to say, he’d been appalled when he’d first seen the place. It was in drastic need of paint and repairs, not to mention a good old-fashioned cleaning, and he blamed the previous foreman for that. Hilda was eighty-four when she died and had obviously not been able to take care of the place for quite some time. Her foreman should have stepped forward and made sure, if nothing else, that basic maintenance was done on the house, barns and equipment. Instead, the man had, apparently, collected his paycheck and done little else except take advantage of a little old lady who’d had no family to protect her. For no other reason than that, Buck had fired him.

When he’d put an ad in the paper for a foreman, David was the first man to answer. Buck would have hardly described his personality as sparkling and David had had no experience as a ranch foreman. He had, however, spent the last twenty years working as a handyman for a string of apartment complexes in Denver before he was laid off after being injured in a car wreck. He was healthy again and ready to work, and when he was able to easily fix a loose handrail on the stairs, Buck hired him on the spot.

Buck was the first to admit that working around the house wasn’t his field of expertise. He was a stockbroker—or at least he had been until he quit to accept his inheritance. Over the course of the last four months, however, he’d come a long way when it came to working around the ranch. With David’s guidance, he’d worked on the house and barn and vehicles and learned more than he wanted to about repairing leaky faucets and toilets and crumbling old fireplaces that needed new mortar. He didn’t mind the work—in fact, he enjoyed it—but there was no time to appreciate the progress he and David had made. Something different seemed to break every other day, and the to-do list got longer and longer and longer. It was damn frustrating.

And they hadn’t even begun to deal with the more serious problems that were threatening to tear the ranch in two. Fences were down, cattle were missing, and lately, he’d noticed signs of trespassers on the ranch. And he knew immediately what they were after. Gold.

Oh, he knew about the lost Spanish gold mine. Who didn’t? Tales of the lost mine had been circulating in the area for well over two centuries, ever since the mine was lost in a landslide in the eighteenth century. Even his great-grandfather had written in his journals about how Spanish explorers had discovered an incredible vein of gold in the wilds of what was now the Broken Arrow Ranch, but they’d been forced to abandon it after an avalanche covered the mine’s entrance and forever changed all landmarks in the area. According to legend, the massive amounts of gold the Spanish had taken from the mine were nothing compared to what was still buried deep in the mountains.

Not surprisingly, fortune hunters, adventurers and geologists had been looking for the mine for centuries, without success. Buck knew as long as the mine’s location remained undiscovered, he would have to deal with trespassers who had no respect for what belonged to him and his sisters. For the moment, however, he had more immediate concerns.

Setting down the pipe wrench he’d been using on the kitchen faucet, he regarded David with a frown. “What seems to be the problem with the generator?”

“I think it’s just given up the ghost. It’s at least twenty years old. It should have been replaced years ago.”

“How often is it used? Do we really even need it?”

“We’re a long way from town, and it doesn’t take much for the lines to go down. Ice in the winter, hailstorms in the spring and summer. And then there’s brownouts. Whenever the electricity goes out, everything shuts down—the freezer and fridge, the air, the heat…”

It was that time of year, late spring, when the temperature could be in the nineties one day and it could be snowing the next. Last night, the temperature had dropped to seventeen degrees. Record highs were predicted for later in the week. Whatever the weather did, he planned to be prepared. “Then I guess we’d better replace it.”

“I’ll check around and see what kind of price I can get on one.”

“What about the truck? How’s it coming?”

The older man grimaced. “I’m charging the battery right now. If that’s not the problem, then it probably needs an alternator.”

Buck didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or curse. If. God, he was learning to hate that word. If the termites hadn’t gotten to the studs in the bathroom wall, just the paneling would have to be replaced. If the sick cow that died that morning in the barn didn’t have mad cow disease, the rest of the herd was probably going to be all right. If the well hadn’t run dry, then the problem might be the pump.

And if the jackass Hilda hired as a foreman had done his damn job and not taken advantage of an old lady instead, Buck thought irritably, then he wouldn’t be bankrupting himself now to put the place back on its feet!

Quit your whining, a voice drawled in his head. It’s not the ranch that’s really bothering you, and you know it. It’s Melissa.

He couldn’t deny it. What a fool he was, he thought bitterly. He’d believed that she loved him enough to follow him to the ends of the earth. Fat chance. She hadn’t loved him—she’d loved a stockbroker who vacationed in Switzerland and Monaco and rubbed shoulders with the rich and powerful in London. She’d wanted nothing to do with the wannabe cowboy in the wilds of Colorado. She’d dropped him like a hot rock.

Forget her, he told himself coldly. She’d shown him who she really was, and he was better off without her. Besides, he had more important things to worry about—like keeping the ranch that had been owned by his family since before the American Civil War.

He couldn’t argue with that. In spite of all the problems he’d run headlong into, he didn’t regret leaving London and moving to the ranch. He loved the place, loved the untamed wildness of the mountains and canyons, the isolation. Not for the first time, he wondered how his great-grandfather had ever found the strength to walk away.

Buck had only been here four short months and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else…except when the pipes rattled and doors stuck and the roof leaked.

How many things could be wrong with one house? he wondered, a reluctant grin tugging at his mouth. After working on it from the moment he’d arrived at the beginning of January, he and David hadn’t made a dent in anything except his bank account. If he was going to restore the ranch to its former glory—and he was determined to do so—he was going to need to win the lottery. Or find the lost gold mine…if it existed.

Grimacing at that word again—if—he sighed. “I’ll check prices on a new generator and see what I can find. You might as well make a parts list for the truck, too.”

“Good,” David grunted. “Brake shoes need to be first on the list. They’re just about shot. Oh, yeah, and fan belts. I don’t think they’ve ever been changed.”

“Make me a list,” Buck said as he turned his attention back to the sink. “I should be finished here in about an hour.”

Taking him at his word, David returned an hour later with a list that turned out to be pages long. Buck spent the rest of the afternoon tracking down parts and prices, and the final results weren’t pretty. And it was only a partial list!

Sitting back in his chair at the massive antique desk that dominated the ranch office, staring at the outrageous sum he’d come up with, Buck found himself once again thinking of the lost gold mine. Maybe finding it really was the only solution. The ranch was turning into a money pit, and he’d hardly even tackled the ranching problems: downed fences, lost cattle, feed to get the animals through dry summers and long winters.

How the hell was he going to do this? he wondered, scowling. What little money Hilda had had at her death had gone for her funeral—the land was all she’d had to leave. He had his own money, of course, but the ranch wasn’t his and his sisters’ yet. Not for a year. He felt sure the four of them would be able to live up to the stipulations of Hilda’s will, but he couldn’t be absolutely certain of that. He’d already invested some of his own money in the place. How much more was he willing to risk?

Lost in thought, his eyes focused inward, he suddenly realized his gaze had fallen on the built-in bookshelves across from his desk that contained a number of books on the history of Colorado and life in the Old West. Several included references to the Broken Arrow and the lost Spanish mine—he knew because every time he got a spare moment, he read everything he could get his hands on about the ranch and its secrets.

Was the mine really out there somewhere, lost in the mountains? he wondered, frowning. Or was it just a rumor, a half truth that, over the centuries, developed into a fantastic story that was too good to be true? He didn’t doubt that there probably was a mine that had been lost in an avalanche—there was too much historical evidence to dispute that—but how much gold had actually been taken from the mine? If it really was as rich as the rumors claimed, surely someone would have found it in the last two hundred years. He’d read reports from the geologists the Wyatts had brought in over the years—they were inconclusive. Was there any supporting evidence to back the rumors? Surely there had to be something….

Pushing to his feet, he strode over to the bookshelves that lined the entire east wall of the office, studying the titles of the books he hadn’t yet read, and pulled out the oldest one. It wasn’t until he dropped into his favorite easy chair to read that he realized that book was actually a journal written by Joshua Wyatt, his great-great-grandfather and the pioneer who first settled the ranch. Seconds later, he was totally lost in one of the most fascinating stories he’d ever read.

Rainey Brewster wasn’t a woman who was prone to nerves. She’d been too many places, seen too many things. As a child, she’d traveled the world with her father, moving with the wind wherever whimsy and fate took them, searching for treasures that had been lost down through the ages. She’d slept in tents and castles, traveled by everything from car to plane to camel, and thanks to the teachings of her father, she recognized a two-legged snake when she saw one.

When her father died six months ago, she’d continued to run the business as he had, and though she missed him terribly, she couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else. There was just something incredibly appealing about looking for buried treasure. Especially when she was hunting for one of those rare finds that the rest of the world had long since given up hope of finding.

The lost Spanish mine on the Broken Arrow Ranch was just that kind of treasure. And she was almost positive she knew where it was.

Approaching the front door of the Wyatt-family homestead, she smiled at that familiar tingling feeling she always got when she was closing in on a treasure. It seemed as if she’d been waiting for this day forever. During the last five years of her father’s life, the two of them had, whenever they were in Spain, spent all their spare time researching the mine, checking state and private libraries all over the country, looking for any references to it, regardless of how small. It wasn’t until three months after her father died that she stumbled across what the two of them had always dreamed of finding: irrefutable proof not only of the mine’s existence, but of its location. Now all she had to do was convince the new owner of the Broken Arrow Ranch that she could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams.

Knocking sharply on the scarred wooden door that appeared to be original to the house, she assured herself that convincing Buck Wyatt to work with her was going to be a piece of cake. After all, he was British, educated, and according to the gossip she’d picked up in town, quickly running out of money. He’d already had a fortune in property fall in his lap. Surely he wouldn’t turn his back on the gold mine sitting in the middle of it.

Determined to make him see reason, she squared her shoulders and once again lifted her hand to knock, but a split second later, the door was jerked open and suddenly, she forgot to breathe.

She’d done exhaustive research on not only the mine, but the Wyatt family, as well, and there was no question that the man who stood before her was a Wyatt. The Willow Bend library had worlds of data on the local ranchers, including pictures of the Wyatt family all the way back to the 1800s, and Buck had the same sharp eyes, the same rugged face and tall, rangy build as every Wyatt man who’d owned the ranch for the last hundred years. He might have been born and raised in England, but he had rancher written all over him.

“Do I have a fly on my nose?”

Jerked out of her musings, she blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“As well you should,” he retorted, amused. “You’re staring at me like I have a bloody fly on my nose.”

Mortified, she could do nothing to stop the hot color that bloomed in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Really. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Abruptly sticking out her hand, she forced a smile. “You must be Buck Wyatt. I’m Rainey Brewster. I was wondering if we might talk.”

He did not, as she’d expected, take her hand. Instead, he studied her with midnight-blue eyes full of suspicion. “Obviously, you didn’t stumble up my driveway by mistake, and you’re not part of the welcoming committee. They were here four months ago, and you weren’t with them—I would have remembered. So why are you here, Ms. Brewster? What do you want?” His accent had turned clipped and very British, and for the life of her, Rainey didn’t know what she had done to earn his suspicion. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, dropping her hand. “I should have called first, but what I have to say to you isn’t something you discuss on the phone. If you have the time, I’d like to talk to you about the lost Spanish gold mine on your property.”

“Really?” he retorted dryly. “And what business is that of yours?”

“I’d prefer not to discuss it on the doorstep…if you don’t mind.”

For all of ten seconds, Buck seriously considered shutting the door in her face. He didn’t know who she was or what she wanted, but he had no intention of discussing the mine or anything else that belonged to him with a stranger…even if she was the cutest woman he’d met in a long time. If she thought she could use her looks and that sweet, dimpled smile to talk him around, she was in for a rude awakening. He wasn’t so easily taken in.

“Actually, I do mind,” he retorted. “I don’t invite just anyone into my home. State your business, Ms. Brewster, and be quick about it. I’m busy.”

He was being a hard-ass and wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d called him a jerk and walked away. But the lady was tougher than that. When her chin shot up and her blue eyes glinted with irritation, he found himself impressed. She was a gutsy little thing.

“My business, Mr. Wyatt, is the mine. I’m a treasure hunter and would like the opportunity to discuss the mine’s location with you.”

Disappointed—God, another treasure hunter out to con him!—he groaned, “Not another one! Do you know how many people like you have knocked on my door over the last four months, Ms. Brewster? The family’s been looking for the mine for well over a hundred years. My office is full of yearly reports from geologists and archaeologists and even Indian shamans who swear they know where it is, and there’s no sign of gold anywhere. What could you possibly know about the mine’s location that all of the experts missed?”

“More than you obviously think,” she retorted. “The reason they haven’t been able to locate the mine is because they’re looking in the wrong place!”

Far from impressed, Buck laughed. “You know, for a moment, I actually thought you were serious. Nice try, love. Now that you’ve had your little joke, I suggest you leave. I’ve got work to do.”

“Wait!” she cried when he started to shut the door in her face. “I’m serious!”

“Mmm, hmm,” he said as he continued to shut the door. “You probably know where the Holy Grail is, too.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she retorted. “I’m trying to help you! If you’d just listen—”

“To what? Another half-baked story about where the mine is? I’ve heard them all. Did you have a dream or what? One lady told me an angel appeared to her and told her. Then there was the drifter who claimed he heard it on the wind. Wow. So, tell me…why should I believe you? Oh, wait, I’ll bet I know. You’re psychic! You looked in your crystal ball, and there was the mine, right there in front of your eyes.”

Heat burned her cheeks, but to her credit, she stood her ground. “You’ll apologize to me in the future for that, Mr. Wyatt—”

“I don’t think so, Ms. Brewster. But then again, I’m not psychic.”

“Obviously not,” she said, her blue eyes glinting with triumph, “or you would know that I’m not, either. I discovered the whereabouts of the mine in some private papers in Spain.”

Far from impressed, he just looked at her. “Really? And you expect me to believe that even though people have been looking for the mine for centuries, you found papers that no one else even knew existed?”

Rainey couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. Her claim did sound outrageous. “If you’ll just take a look at what I have, you won’t regret it,” she assured him. “All I need is ten minutes.”

For a moment, she thought she had him. He hesitated, studying her consideringly. Then his jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you found in Spain, Ms. Brewster, or what you paid someone to create false documents, but you wasted your money. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do—”

Lightning quick, she stuck her foot in the door. When he gave her an arch look, she merely held out her card. “When you change your mind, call me. I’ll be in town for another week.”

Making no effort to take her card, he just looked at her. “I have no intention of changing my mind.”

Rainey rolled her eyes. God save her from stubborn men! “If people didn’t change their minds, Mr. Wyatt, they would still believe the world was flat.” Impulsively, she leaned forward and daringly tucked her card in his shirt pocket. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought with a grin, and winked at him. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

When he just looked down his aristocratic nose at her, she almost laughed. But her intention was to spark his interest, not irritate him, so she turned and walked away, feeling the touch of his eyes on her long after she drove away. He would call, she told herself confidently. He had to. Her father had spent years looking for the mine, and since his death, she had vowed to keep up the search in his honor. Now that she knew where the mine was, she couldn’t let Buck Wyatt stop her. She would give him a week. If he didn’t call, then she would show up on his doorstep again. Sooner or later, he was bound to give in.

Chapter 2

Rainey Brewster, Ph.D, historian, treasure hunter.

Scowling at the card she’d given him, Buck snorted. So now she was claiming to have a Ph.D. What kind of nutcase was she? Did she actually expect him to believe she’d tracked down some ancient papers in Spain and just that easily, discovered where the mine was? Yeah, right. And his great-aunt Matilda was on a first-name basis with the pope!

So just who was Rainey Brewster and what the bloody hell was she really after? Money? Why else would she have shown up on his doorstep? She claimed to have something he wanted—the location of the mine. Of course she expected him to pay for it.

If that was the case, she was nothing but a scam artist, he thought, scowling, and he’d be crazy to trust her. For all he knew, she could be after much more than just money for telling him the location of the mine. She could be after the ranch itself. If she’d hooked up with the right person, someone who felt that he was the unnamed heir in Hilda’s will, the two of them could have hatched some sort of plan to drive him away from the ranch before the year was up.

Buck tried to dismiss the idea as foolish, but he knew he couldn’t be too cautious. The town was abuzz with talk of Hilda’s unnamed heir. Was it her closest friend? A neighbor? A total stranger? The possibilities were endless, and so were his enemies, Buck thought grimly. Oh, no one had made any direct threats, or, for that matter, openly done anything to make him feel anything less than welcome, but he wasn’t a fool. The entire community of Willow Bend, Colorado, thought Hilda was the last of the Wyatts and had, no doubt, expected her to leave the place to someone in the community. Instead, she’d willed the ranch to Brits she didn’t even know, and that had to make anyone who thought they were the rightful heir bloody angry.

And who could blame them? The Broken Arrow was worth a fortune. How far would someone go to get the ranch back if they thought it rightfully should have gone to them? Considering the terms of the will, all they really had to do was keep him away from the ranch for forty-eight hours. How better to do that than to enlist the aid of a young, attractive fortune hunter who claimed she wanted to help him find the gold mine his family had been searching for for well over a century? How far would she go to keep him away from the ranch? Invite him somewhere and have car trouble? Lose her keys? Seduce him? Just what was Rainey Brewster capable of?

All too easily, he could see the spark of daring in her blue eyes when she’d leaned over and tucked her business card in his shirt. The lady was trouble with a capital T and he’d do well to steer clear of her.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one waiting for a chance to blindside him and keep him away from the ranch. All anyone needed was forty-eight hours. By the time the girls learned he was missing, they wouldn’t even have a chance to fly in from London. Just that easily, the ranch would be lost.

Furious that he didn’t have a clue which direction trouble would come from, he found it impossible to concentrate on the bills and paperwork Hilda had stuffed in boxes over the course of the last two years and just let go. He needed a break from the stress of trying to keep the place afloat, so he grabbed the keys to the Jeep, one of the two vehicles he and his sisters had inherited along with the ranch, and headed for the mountains in the distance.

Later, he couldn’t have said how long he’d been driving when he noticed the temperature gauge on the Jeep had shot into the red zone. Swearing, he braked to a grinding halt and cut the engine. Before he could step to the front of the Jeep and lift the bonnet, a cloud of steam poured out from under the hood.

“Bloody hell!”

He wasn’t a mechanic and what he’d learned about cars over the last four months wasn’t nearly enough, but even he recognized coolant when it puddled on the ground beneath the engine. And even if there’d been a jug of the stuff in the vehicle—which there wasn’t—it would have done little good. When he grabbed an old towel from the back of the Jeep and lifted the steaming-hot bonnet, he spotted the blown radiator hose instantly. Like it or not, the Jeep wasn’t going anywhere.

“Well, you wanted to get away from everything, old chap,” he told himself wryly. “Congratulations. You succeeded.”

He had, in fact, more than succeeded. Glancing back the way he had come, he only then realized that not only had he left the lower grazing land of the ranch far behind, but he was already in the foothills of the mountains. Frowning at the far horizon, he bit back a curse when he saw nothing but undeveloped ranchland all the way to the horizon. The homestead was nowhere in sight.

Swearing, he reached for his cell phone, but one look at the out of range message on the screen had him swearing in frustration. So much for calling for help, he thought in disgust. And considering the fact that David didn’t even know he was gone, the odds of the foreman coming to look for him were slim to none. There was no hope for it—he’d have to leave the Jeep and walk home. He’d be lucky if he got there by dark. Muttering curses, he started walking.

Two hours later, the sun was on its downward slide behind the mountains and his feet were killing him. Damning his footwear, he was seriously considering walking the rest of the way barefoot when he heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance. Five minutes later, David topped the rise in the beat-up old green pickup that was used for work around the ranch and caught sight of him in the distance.

“I’ve been looking all over the place for you,” the older man told him. Glancing past Buck to the ranch road that disappeared into the foothills leading to the mountains, he frowned when he didn’t see the Jeep anywhere. “When I couldn’t find you at the house, I remembered the last time I couldn’t find you, you were up in the mountains, checking out the elk. Where’s the Jeep?”

“It died about eight kilometers back,” Buck retorted, wincing as he stepped toward the pickup. “It blew a radiator hose. Why were you looking for me?”

“We’ve got trouble.”

Buck shouldn’t have been surprised. Every time he turned around, it seemed like something else was going wrong. “Don’t tell me,” he groaned. “The roof fell in.”

“Well, not exactly,” the older man replied, “but it could be just as costly. Someone cut the fence to the southern pasture and brought in a semi. From what I can determine, three hundred head of cattle are missing.”

Buck took the news like a blow to the gut. “Son of a bitch!”

“The tracks are fresh,” he added. “And since it rained last night and the tracks weren’t filled with water, the bastards must have hit sometime today.”

“In broad daylight,” Buck said tersely, cursing.

He nodded. “The county road that runs by there doesn’t get a lot of traffic. You can go by there just about anytime of day and not see a soul.”

Buck wanted to believe that if someone had seen the rustling, they would have reported it, but he wasn’t betting the ranch on it. People didn’t want to get involved, especially if it meant siding with a foreigner over one of the locals. They’d just look the other way. And then there were those who were waiting for him to fail. They might even help the rustlers load their trucks!

“We’ve still got to report it,” he told David grimly. “Let’s go back to the house so I can call the sheriff, then we have to see about getting a radiator hose for the Jeep.”

Not surprisingly, Sheriff Sherman Clark hadn’t received any calls on the missing cattle and didn’t expect to. “I’ll check the cattle barns, but it’s just going to be a waste of time. Anybody who rustles cattle these days isn’t stupid enough to sell them right down the road. Those cows are probably halfway to Chicago by now.”

“And you don’t have any idea who might be responsible for this?”

“Oh, sure,” he said easily. “I’ve got plenty of ideas, but ideas won’t put anybody in jail. I’ve got no witnesses, no evidence, no cows, for that matter. And the tire tracks were brushed away. So all we know is that whoever did this didn’t do it alone. They had help—a lot of help. Unfortunately, you can bet that whoever organized the theft made damn sure that his partners in crime were tight-lipped and knew how to keep their money in their pockets. Nobody’s going to be wagging their tongues over this. There’s too much at stake.”

Buck didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. The Broken Arrow was what was at stake. “So there’s nothing you can do,” he said flatly. “I just have to eat the loss.”

“I wish I could give you better news,” the older man said, “but unless you had the herd insured, you’re looking at a total loss. And the odds are, Hilda didn’t have insurance. She let a lot of things slide over the last couple of years.”

“So I’ve discovered,” he retorted. “Thanks for your help, Sheriff. I’ll check into the insurance.”

“Good enough,” he said, shaking his hand. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

He wouldn’t hear anything and they both knew it, but that wasn’t the sheriff’s fault. And it certainly wasn’t Hilda’s. She’d done everything she could to hold the place together, but she’d been old and alone and she’d left a will that, unfortunately, made him and his sisters the target of every jackass out there who thought he was the unnamed heir. And he had a feeling the situation was only going to get worse as the year deadline grew closer and closer. The question was…what the hell was he going to do about it?

The question nagged him the rest of the afternoon as he helped David repair the fence the rustlers had downed, then tow the Jeep back to the house and install a new radiator hose. And the situation only got worse when he discovered there was no insurance on the cattle. Then the new property-tax bill arrived in the mail. He took one look at it and started to swear.

Damnation, where did it end? Between the four of them, he and his sisters could come up with the money, but they didn’t have an unending supply of money. And the ranch seemed to be a bottomless pit. If things didn’t change—and damn soon—they wouldn’t have to worry about losing the ranch because they were gone for forty-eight hours. They’d lose it to bankruptcy!

Disgusted, he needed a drink. All he had to do was step into the library and pour a Scotch and water, but he’d never liked drinking alone. Maybe he’d go into town, see what was going on at the Rusty Bucket. A local watering hole, it was the place to go to hear the latest gossip. Was there any talk about the cattle rustling? How many people knew about it?

The more, the better, he thought grimly as he headed upstairs to his room for a quick shower. The more people who knew a secret, the greater the odds that someone wouldn’t be able to keep their mouth shut. All they had to do was confide in one person, and the news would be all over town. It was just a matter of time.

Forty-five minutes later, he stepped into the Rusty Bucket and wasn’t surprised to find the place packed. When he’d stopped by there his first week in town, nothing about the bar had impressed him. The tables were rough-hewn picnic tables, the lighting was dim to the point of nonexistent and everyone in the joint— he could think of no other way to describe it—seemed interested in drinking beer. There hadn’t been a decent wine in the house. He’d almost left, then the waitress had recommended he try one of the steaks. He’d taken one bite and fallen in love. He’d been a regular ever since.

“Hey, Mr. Wyatt, it’s been a while. Are you on the prowl for a little red meat?”

Greeting Rusty Jones, the owner of the bar, with a grin, Buck drawled, “There’s nothing little on the menu short of a side of beef and you know it. I don’t know how you stay so thin, Yank.”

Tall and lean as a broom handle, Rusty chuckled. “It’s in the genes, Your Lordship. We’re a skinny lot. There’s not a plump one in the family. Now…about that steak…”

“Actually, I just came in for a drink, but a steak’s exactly what I need. I’ll sit at the bar—”

The words were hardly out of his mouth and hanging in the air between them when he spied Rainey Brewster sitting alone at a table for two by the front window. She’d changed into a dark red sweater that did incredible things to her skin and eyes and she’d released her hair from the tight knot she’d had it twisted in earlier. Just that easily, she’d become soft and sexy and touchable. And she was looking right at him.

A smart man would have nodded a curt greeting and headed for the bar. But he’d been thinking about her on and off all day, and suddenly, there she was, right there in front of him. What else was a man who believed in fate supposed to do?

“Never mind,” he told Rusty, never taking his eyes from Rainey. “I’ll join the lady at the table by the window. We have some things to talk about.”

He never saw the surprise in Rusty’s eyes, never saw the watchful stares that took note of his every step as he headed across the bar to where Rainey sat, seemingly waiting for him. How had she known to expect him? He hadn’t known himself that he was coming to town until forty-five minutes ago.

Suspicion churning in his gut, he studied her with narrowed eyes as he reached her table. “Mind if I join you? Or are you expecting someone? I can sit at the bar—”

“No one at the bar can tell you where the mine is, Mr. Wyatt,” she retorted simply. “Pull up a chair.”

She wasn’t smug, but there was a confidence in her blue eyes that told him that it didn’t matter what kind of arrangement they finally agreed on, he was toast. She had something he wanted, and she knew it.

A smart man would have cut and run right then. But there was something about the way she challenged him that he found impossible to resist. So she thought she was clever, did she? Time would tell. Taking the chair across from her, he lifted a dark brow at her in amusement. “Who said I wanted to talk about the mine? Maybe I’m here for a steak.”

“Maybe,” she agreed easily. “So what are you saying? You’re not interested in the mine? No problem. A lot of people think it never really existed, anyway. And maybe it didn’t,” she added with a shrug. “Maybe I misunderstood the papers I found in Spain. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not infallible. And the older the records, the more difficult they are to read and interpret. I could have misunderstood. My Spanish isn’t perfect.”

Flashing him a rueful smile, she reached for one of the menus and changed the subject. “So…what do you recommend? This is the first time I’ve been here. What’s good?”

When she glanced up from her open menu, he just looked at her. “The truth,” he retorted. “You don’t believe for a second that you misinterpreted whatever you found in Spain. So why lie about it?”

Her eyes flashed at that. “I’m not lying. I’m just saying what you want to hear.”

“You wouldn’t still be in town if you thought you were wrong,” he pointed out. “In fact, you seem like the type of woman who would be meticulous about research. You would have never approached me if you thought there was a possibility that you were wrong.”

Surprised, she frowned, irritated. How could he know that? He didn’t even know her. “What I know, Mr. Wyatt, is that, for whatever reason, you don’t want to believe that the so-called experts have been wrong about the mine’s location all these years. Why you would want to believe them instead of me since they haven’t found the mine is beyond me, but that’s your choice. I can’t control what you believe.”

The matter settled as far as she was concerned, she turned with an easy smile to the waitress as she arrived at their table to take their order. “I’ll have the rib-eye and a baked potato with extra butter. Oh, and ranch dressing on my salad.” When she turned back to Buck and found him watching her in amusement, she lifted a brow. “What? Is there a problem?”

“Not at all.” He chuckled. “It’s nice to meet a woman who’s not always on a diet.” Ordering porterhouse steak and a salad, he waited until the waitress had departed before focusing his attention once again on Rainey. “So tell me about your research in Spain.”

She eyed him warily. “Why? So you can shoot me down again?”

His lips twitched. “Are you that easily discouraged?”

“If I was, I would have left town this morning,” she said dryly. “I was hoping if I gave you some time, you would…”

“Come to my senses?”

“Something like that,” she admitted with a grin. “And it worked! Didn’t it?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not. This is your chance to speak your piece. Give it your best shot.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. “I was in Spain, doing research in a university library on the lost mine, when I came across a reference to a family in Barcelona whose ancestors supposedly had come to America with the first Spanish missionaries. I traced the family tree, discovered there were descendants still living on the land the family had owned for three hundred years, and went to meet with them.”

“And they told you everyone had been looking in the wrong place for centuries?” he said incredulously. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I found proof in their library,” she said quietly. “I have copies of excerpts from the diary of one of the missionaries. You’re welcome to read them.”

“So let’s see them,” he retorted as the waitress arrived with their food. Sitting back, he waited expectantly. “Well? I presume you have this evidence with you.”

“I have it in a safe place,” she assured him.

“This is a safe place. Let’s see it.”

“Yeah, right.” She laughed. “Nice try, Mr. Wyatt. Do I, by any chance, have Stupid tattooed on my forehead?”

“I never said you were anything less than intelligent,” he replied, amused. “Obviously, you’re afraid I’ll take your information and run with it, and in the process, cheat you.”

She shrugged. “It’s happened before, Mr. Wyatt—”

“Buck,” he corrected her.

She hesitated, her eyes narrowing speculatively. “Our relationship is strictly business, Mr. Wyatt. There’s no need for first names between us.”

“Unless you detest formality, Rainey. I do. Now, about our deal—”

“We don’t have a deal.”

“Not yet, we don’t. This is your chance, love. Go for it.”

Rainey’s heart stumbled at the casual endearment. It meant nothing, she told herself. He probably called every woman he knew love. So what did he call a woman he cared about? And why did she care?

Horrified at the direction of her thoughts, she jerked herself back to the situation at hand. After years of working with her father to find the lost mine, searching for clues all over the world, she finally had a shot at finding it. She couldn’t blow this!

“I’m not just selling information,” she told him. “I want to be actively involved in the search for the mine.”

He lifted a brow at that. “You want to get those pretty hands of yours dirty?”

“Yes, I do,” she said with a jut of her chin. “And I want a finder’s fee and a percentage of the mine’s gross for the first ten years of operation.”

“Ah…money.” He sighed, smiling slightly. “Why did I know we would get around to that? Just out of curiosity, how much is this supposed finder’s fee you think you’re entitled to?”

When she named a figure that by any stretch of the imagination was outrageous, he laughed. “Yeah, right. Would you like my right arm, while you’re at it? Or maybe my firstborn child? I don’t have one yet, but I haven’t given up hope. How much time do you have?”

Heat climbing in her cheeks, Rainey gave serious thought to dumping her salad on top of his head. It would have been no more than he deserved. But even as her fingers itched to snatch up the bowl and send it flying his way, she reminded herself that she held all the cards. Why was she letting him push her buttons? She had a better idea of where the mine was than he did.

Sitting back, she surveyed him in amusement. “Is that a no?”

“What do you think? Of course it’s a no!”

“Okay,” she said easily, and took her first bite of steak. “Wow! This is incredible! How’s yours?”

“Excellent,” he said without tasting it.

“Really? I’ve never seen anyone taste something without taking a bite.”

His lips twitched. “We all have our talents.”

Rainey’s eyes dropped to the sensuous curve of his mouth. He would be a good kisser, she thought, only to blink in confusion. Had she lost her mind? What was she thinking? The man stood between her and one of the biggest treasures she’d ever hunted. And all she could think about was his mouth? She didn’t think so!

Thankful for the years of poker she’d played with her father, learning to bluff, she put on her game face and smiled. “You’re absolutely right. I’m really good at finding lost treasure, but you’re not interested in that. That’s okay. I understand. You want to find it yourself. I can’t blame you for that. I’ll just move on to the next treasure. If you change your mind, give me a call. Maybe we can work something out.”

He was a gambling man—she could see it in his eyes—but he didn’t, to his credit, look away. Instead, he studied her shrewdly. “You want too much. Can you guarantee that the mine is as rich as it’s reported to be?”

“There’re no guarantees in life, Mr. Wyatt. Especially when it comes to treasure hunting. It’s all a crapshoot.”

“Then you should come down off your price, Ms. Brewster. Or at least agree to take less if the mine doesn’t have the ore it’s rumored to.”

“And you should value the fact that you’re not going to spend years, possibly decades, looking in the wrong place,” she retorted. “Think about it, Mr. Wyatt. Without the right information, you might as well look for the mine in Mexico. You’re never going to find it.”

She saw his eyes flicker and knew she’d finally scored a direct hit in this game they were playing, but she had to give him credit. He didn’t cave in easily. “How do I know that you’re not just scamming me?” he asked, studying her with eyes that were sharp as a hawk’s. “You’ve given me no proof, no credentials. For all I know, you’re a waitress from Philadelphia. Where’s your proof, Ms. Brewster? Give me that, and then we’ll have something to talk about.”

“Well, if that’s all you need, why didn’t you say so?” she said, and reached into her purse and pulled out a letter.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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