Sweet Mountain Rancher Read online

  “Not at first. The ground’s pretty dry. But once we found one sign, plenty more showed up. We have pictures of those, too.”

  “What about rumen and bones?” his dad asked. “Right near the kill sight, or scattered all around?”

  “Close by for the most part. No blood trail, either, so it’s pretty clear the cat didn’t feel pressured to move the carcass. It left plenty behind, though, which tells me its meal was interrupted.”

  “Any idea by what?”

  “Could have been anything, Hank. Another cat. Bear. Heck, one of the other horses could have spooked it.”

  She nodded. “True. Cougars are pretty skittish.”

  “Honestly,” his mom interrupted. “Can’t the four of you wait until later to discuss this? You’re frightening the children.”

  Nate looked at the wide-eyed faces of his cousins’ kids. At their mothers’ faces, too. Sally and Nora agreed with his mom, and he could hardly blame them. Even though he’d been far younger than any of them when he got his first up-close-and-personal eyeful of what a determined predator was capable of doing to livestock. The experience taught him the importance of caution and alertness. He turned to their parents. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to take them out there soon,” he said, pointing toward the fields. “Teach them how to keep their eyes open and their ears perked.” Nate met each child’s eyes. “You’re ranch-raised, same as the rest of us, and spend a whole lot of time outside. There are all kinds of dangerous critters out there. But you already knew that, right?”

  They nodded their agreement.

  “Things are scariest when you don’t know anything about them. Once you have the facts—”

  “Well, now,” Hank said, “aren’t you just a big ol’ ball of warm and fuzzy today.”

  He got to his feet. “I’d rather give them a couple of scary dreams tonight, Henrietta, than have something terrible happen out there later.”

  Tossing his napkin onto his chair, Nate faced his aunt. “Dinner was great as always. Thanks.”

  “You’re leaving?” his mother said. “Before dessert? When I made your favorite?”

  Not even hot-from-the-oven apple pie could tempt him to stay. Nate didn’t know what to blame for his agitated state of mind. With any luck, a few gulps of fresh mountain air would cure what ailed him.

  “Thought I spotted a loose gate, couple of leaning fence posts in the main corral,” he said with another nod toward the window. “That sky looks pretty threatening. I’m gonna check ’em out before the storm rolls in.”

  He made a beeline for his pickup and drove straight to the barn. If he didn’t waste time, he could saddle Patches and get those gates secured before the storm hit. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that they were in for a big one. The clouds hung low and dark, and there was a certain bite in the spring air. The wind rolled across the north pasture, laying the new ryegrass fields almost flat. They needed a gentle soaking, not the hard-pounding downpour that was about to hit. Patches sensed it, too. Normally, he’d nibble contentedly at the blades of grass growing alongside the fence. Today, he whimpered, stamping his front hooves and testing the strength of his tether.

  “Easy, boy,” Nate said. “I’m almost through here, and if you quit kickin’ up a fuss, I’ll give you a good rubdown and add some oats to your feed.”

  Good thing you started at the corral, he thought, disconnecting the come-along from the now-taut barbed wire. He stowed it in the burlap sack that hung from his saddle horn, untethered Patches, and climbed into the saddle as the first fat drops began thumping the brim of his Stetson. The air quickly filled with the thick, musky scent of plant oils, bacterial spores and ozone. Nate found it rather pleasant. Patches did not. But the horse, true to form, obeyed his master’s every directive.

  The rain was falling in earnest now, hitting the hard ground like wet bullets. It was tough to see more than a few yards ahead, but Nate held tight to the reins to make sure Patches didn’t panic, rocket forward and step into a gopher hole.

  “Easy, boy,” he said again, holding the steady pace even as the gusts rustled the grass and bent the trees to the breaking point. A violent boom rolled across the fields, startling Patches and Nate, too, and seconds later, lightning sliced the sooty sky.

  Once they reached the barn, man and horse exhaled relieved sighs and shook off the rain. Now Nate wished he’d eaten some pie; when this deluge let up, the pan would no doubt be empty.

  Patches nickered and bobbed his head. “You’re right,” Nate said. “Fifteen minutes more and we’d be out in the middle of this bedlam, instead of warm and dry in here.” Plus, the broken latch and leaning gatepost would have blown over. It took only one curious cow to notice the opening for a couple of dozen to follow, and it would require days to round them all up.

  If that cat didn’t get them first.

  Based on the size of the paw prints, Nate and the ranch hands had decided it was likely a female. They all agreed she had a right to hunt and prowl the territory. But with elk and deer so plentiful in the Rockies, they knew something was wrong. Very wrong. Choosing easy pickings such as tame horses and cows could mean she’d been wounded. She might be pregnant, or have a litter of cubs hidden nearby. Cubs that would learn many lessons in killing from their stealthy mother.

  Nate stowed Patches’s combs and brushes in the tack room and walked to the window, where the rain clouded his view of the Front Range. But he didn’t need to see the mountains to know they were there. He’d been living in their shadow since birth, and could point them out with his eyes closed: Grays Peak and Mount Evans, Longs Peak and Mount Bierstadt, and one of the world’s highest, Pikes Peak. Several years ago, Nate had been able to cross an item off his bucket list when he’d reached its summit. Up there, it seemed he could see the whole world. The sight made him pity Lieutenant Zebulon Montgomery Pike, who, after a four-month trek, spied the mountain on the horizon and knew even before arriving that he’d never reach its pinnacle.

  “Wonder how many cougars old Zeb saw?” he asked Patches.

  The horse snorted again, as if to say, “I’m busy eating the treat you gave me and can’t be bothered with such trivial matters.”

  Nate’s mood began to lift. It wasn’t so bad, being stuck out here in the barn. He’d spared no expense to equip it with every creature comfort for the horses. In the loft, he’d even constructed a sparsely furnished bedroom and a closet-sized bathroom, and installed grates in the floor to allow heat to rise from the propane-fueled furnace. On the rare occasion one of his mares had difficulty foaling, he wanted to remain nearby, and the space had served its purpose well.

  Seated on the corner of his cot, Nate toed off his work boots and changed into dry jeans and a flannel shirt. Everything, even the socks, smelled like mothballs, but the scent was far preferable to the stale, fusty odor of mold or mildew. Back in the main area of the barn, he filled the aluminum coffeepot with water and grounds and set it to boil on the two-burner hotplate. He kept a stash of energy bars in the metal box atop the minifridge, and unless one of the ranch hands had raided it, he’d have one for supper. Not his first choice, but unless he was seriously mistaken, this storm had no intention of letting up anytime soon. He’d take granola over hitting the hay on an empty stomach.

  The horses didn’t seem to mind having their nosy, two-legged Pa meander the barn, as evidenced by soft snorts, blows and nickers. There might be a cougar on the prowl, but for the moment, all was well at the Double M.

  Sated by his makeshift meal, which he washed down with strong black coffee, Nate lay back on the cot and closed his eyes. Rain pelting the barn’s metal roof made him drowsy.

  He remembered the year when he, Zach and Sam had ridden to the Double M’s north boundary to round up two runaway calves. They’d been in high school, and felt proud and manly, being out there on their own. They’d searched until they ran out of daylight, then set up camp and bedded down under the starry sky. Nate was the first to wake up, and after stokin
g the fire, he’d gone looking for sticks and twigs to get it hot enough to brew their coffee and heat up the bacon biscuits Zach’s mom had packed them. Nate didn’t know what made him look up, but when he did, the breath froze in his lungs. A huge male cougar stood on a rocky outcropping nearby, head high and powerful shoulder muscles undulating under thick, reddish-brown fur. Nate had reached for his revolver, realizing too late that he’d left it near his bedroll. Thankfully, in the blink of an eye, the cat had disappeared, leaving Nate to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.

  His cell phone rang, startling him so badly he sat straight up on the cot. He didn’t recognize the number and answered with a terse “Yeah?”

  A slight pause, and then, “Oh. I’m so sorry to disturb you. I must have dialed the wrong number.”

  Eden. “It’s not the wrong number,” he said, softening his tone. “This lousy storm has me stuck out here in the barn. Guess I drifted off and the phone surprised me.”

  “Sorry,” she said again. “If I hang up, you can pick right up where you left off.”

  Was she kidding? Go back to that pins-and-needles cougar memory, when he could talk with an angel?

  “I wasn’t asleep,” he admitted. “This cougar stuff has us all a little edgy.” And so did his reference to her as an angel.

  “Cougar stuff?”

  He gave her an abbreviated version, leaving out some of the gorier details to avoid scaring her. “I’m sure it’s holed up somewhere in this weather, though, so for the time being, it’s not a concern.”

  Liar. Anyone with a functioning brain would be worried, especially after finding that mutilated horse. But she hadn’t called to listen to his woes. Just as well. He wasn’t big on chitchat, either.

  “So…what’s up?”

  “The boys and I have been talking,” she said hesitantly, “and we’d like you to come for supper. Tomorrow night, if you’re available. I’m making their favorite. Spaghetti and meatballs.”

  He’d planned to attend a town hall meeting the next night to discuss possible solutions to traffic problems caused by cattle getting loose. His father and uncles refused to go, citing the fact that their livestock rarely got out, and when the cows did stray, they never went too far for too long. He wouldn’t be missing out on anything he hadn’t heard before anyway.

  “Just so happens spaghetti and meatballs is one of my favorites, too. What time do you want me there?”

  “Well, we sit down at five thirty, but you’re welcome to get here anytime after four. I’ll put you to work chopping vegetables for the salad.”

  An hour and a half, alone in the kitchen with Eden Quinn? Sure beat listening to city folk moan and groan about cow poo on the highway!

  “What can I bring? Dessert? Garlic bread?”

  “Just your appetite.”

  He could hear the smile in her voice, and it brightened his gloomy mood. “See you tomorrow, then. If this storm doesn’t wash out the road.”

  “It wouldn’t dare,” she said before hanging up.

  Nate stared at his phone for a second or two before hitting End. A few days had passed since he’d offered to help her out financially. More than enough time for her to look into other options. He wondered if sometime between dessert and drying the last spaghetti plate she’d tell him how many hoops she’d jumped through to solve the housing problem on her own. He checked his watch. By his estimate, he didn’t have much time to figure out how to convince her it was a no-strings offer. He’d known her just long enough to understand that Eden was a proud, independent woman who’d do just about anything for those kids. Truth was, he wouldn’t mind a few strings, provided they kept her close by, at least until he got to know her better. She might have more baggage than an airport carousel, and common sense warned him to keep a safe distance, at least until he found out why, every now and then, her big gray eyes clouded with an emotion he couldn’t define.

  *

  EVEN BEFORE HE climbed out of his pickup, Nate felt calm. He took note of flowers planted on both sides of the brick path that made the short walk to the front porch of Latimer House colorful and welcoming. He rang the bell, and while waiting for someone to answer, he took in the row of mismatched rocking chairs lining the white clapboard facade. Nate counted six before the wide wooden door opened.

  “Hey, Nate!” Carlos said. “I’m glad you’re early!” He stepped aside as Nate entered the foyer. “We had a bet, and I won.”

  Grinning, Nate inhaled the mouthwatering aroma of spaghetti sauce as Latimer’s youngest resident led the way down a long hall lined with photographs. “DeShawn said you’d be here at exactly five thirty, ’cause you seem like a right-on-time kinda guy. Wade said five fifteen.”

  By the time they’d reached the kitchen, Carlos had run down a short list of his roommates’ predicted arrival times.

  “And what time did Eden think I’d get here?”

  “Five after four,” she answered without turning from the sink.

  Nate glanced at the schoolhouse clock on the wall above her as Carlos pulled out one of the benches at the long trestle table. 4:06. Exactly.

  “Have a seat,” the kid said. “I’ll get you some iced tea.” Halfway to the fridge, he glanced over his shoulder. “Unless you like lemonade better.”

  Nate sat at the end of the bench. “Tea is fine. Thanks.”

  Eden dried her hands on the blue-and-white-checked towel that matched the curtains. “So how was traffic?”

  “Two fender benders. Road construction. Some fool getting a ticket who didn’t bother to pull onto the shoulder.”

  She checked the clock, too. “And yet you arrived at almost the precise moment Carlos and I predicted.”

  “Well, you said something about me helping with the salad, so…”

  “Thanks to you,” Carlos said, handing him his drink, “I don’t have to help with the dishes.”

  Nate held out the glass, as if offering a toast. “Happy to be of service.”

  “Yeah, but I still have towels to put away.” He took the stairs two at a time. “And my reading assignment to finish.”

  “Reading assignment?” Nate asked Eden. “I thought school was out.”

  “It is. But I don’t want them falling behind over the summer, so I make them read every day, right after breakfast and again before supper.”

  She lifted the lid on a battered old pot. “The added plus is that they come to the table nice and calm.” She gave the sauce a quick stir and returned the big wooden spoon to the saucer beside the pan. “Peace and quiet is good for the digestion.”

  “Ah. A two-birds-with-one-stone kinda gal, are you?”

  “Few things I hate more than wasting time,” she said, pouring herself some iced tea. “I could be the multitasking poster girl.”

  Nate nodded toward the cutting board on the counter. “Looks like you’ve already done my job.”

  “I had a few extra minutes to kill, pun intended.”

  “Two birds with one stone,” he repeated, and when she smiled, Nate felt a flush creeping up his neck. He put the tumbler to his lips and hoped the icy beverage would stop it in its tracks.

  “My grandfather liked to say everything happens for a reason.” Her gaze zeroed in on the Band-Aid on the back of his hand. “That looks like a cut that should stay dry.”

  When she locked those big, worried eyes on his, Nate wondered if his ears were glowing red. Because it sure felt as if they were.

  “What did you do to yourself?”

  “Aw, it’s nothing, really.” Nate laid the injured hand on his thigh, blocking it from her sight. “Scraped it up yesterday, trying to get some barbed wire restrung before that storm hit.”

  “It rained like crazy here. Got windy enough that I had to take down the flags out front, for fear those flimsy aluminum poles would bend.”

  His stomach growled, and he tried to hide it by rattling the ice cubes in his glass.

  “How bad was it at the Double M? The skies west of here got really,
really dark.”

  And there it was again, that concerned expression that lifted her delicate brows.

  “Spooked the horses and drove all the cows into the pine grove—worst place for them, what with the lightning and all—but for the most part, it was all bark, no bite.”

  “A relief for you all, I’m sure.”

  He’d never been any good at small talk. Clearly, it wasn’t one of her talents, either. He added it to the plus side of his “Things About Eden” list. Nate didn’t know which surprised him more, that he’d been subconsciously compiling a list, or the fact that the pluses far outnumbered the minuses. He hoped the boys would join them before he said something truly stupid. There hadn’t been a dull moment during meals with them at the Double M, and he’d been looking forward to more of the same tonight.

  “Hey, Eden,” Travis called from the hallway. “Look who’s here.”

  Cora Michaels strode into the kitchen on strappy gold sandals that click-clacked across the hardwood floor. He hadn’t seen her in months, and wondered what she was doing here.

  “Just look at you,” she said, wrapping Eden in a motherly hug. Bangle bracelets jangling, Cora held her at arm’s length. “Okay, out with it. What’s your secret? Every time I see you, you look younger and prettier than the time before.”

  Eden’s nervous laughter told Nate she wasn’t accustomed to compliments. At least, not about her appearance.

  Cora hip-bumped Nate, her not-so-subtle hint that he should make room for her on the bench. “What smells so heavenly?” she asked, scooting in close.

  Eden got up and poured her a glass of tea. “Spaghetti. Can you stay for supper?”

  Turning to Nate, Cora winked and pretended to hide her response behind her hand. “I thought she’d never ask.” Giving him a playful elbow jab, she added, “See, it pays for an old widow to know when all of her friends serve supper.” Turning slightly, she met his eyes. “How have you been, handsome?”

  “Good. Real good.”

  “And the rest of those Marshall boys? Oh, when I think of all the mischief you kids got into, I can’t help but laugh.”