Czytaj książkę: «The Granger Family Ranch»
Autumn. The worry in his gut cinched one knot tighter.
The door flew open before he reached the porch and a younger version of Autumn with serious blue eyes and red-brown hair stepped out to greet him. The college-aged girl had a streak of blood on her pajama top.
“Autumn?” he choked out, unable to ask the question.
“You’re the sheriff? You made good time from town.” The girl spun on her heels, gestured to him and led the way toward the brightly lit back door. “Justin and my sister are out there, and they haven’t come back.”
His knees felt half-jelly as he forced his feet to carry him up the walk. Usually he was invincible, but the thought of Autumn out there facing armed thieves made him weak. He glanced around. Nothing but miles of rangeland and cattle. The paramedics were volunteers from town who were at least twenty minutes away. And a hospital? He had no idea where the closest trauma center would be.
This was a sign. He cared more about Autumn than he’d realized.
JILLIAN HART
grew up on her family’s homestead, where she helped raise cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning her English degree from Whitman College, she worked in travel and advertising before selling her first novel. When Jillian isn’t working on her next story, she can be found puttering in her rose garden, curled up with a good book or spending quiet evenings at home with her family.
His Holiday Bride
Jillian Hart
MILLS & BOON
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My times are in Your hand.
—Psalms 31:15
Contents
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
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Autumn Granger knew trouble when she saw it, even if she was on the back of a horse riding the crest of a rocky ridge at the tail end of a hard, cold day. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck, ignored the wintry bite of wind and focused her binoculars on the cluster of breakaway cattle swarming like flies in the field below.
Hard to tell one cow from another at this distance. Could be Granger stock, but it was impossible to read the brand with the sun slanting low in her eyes. She fished her cell from her pocket and hit speed dial. She was number three man around the ranch. Her older brother Justin would know the scoop.
“Yeah?” he answered, sounding out of breath. He wasn’t having an easy afternoon, either.
“Do you have visual on the north Hereford herd?” She swung her binoculars around—nope, still couldn’t get a good view—and swept the length of the fence line. Maybe downed barbed wire would tell a better story.
“Dad, Scotty and I are feeding them now. Where are you?”
“The ridge north of the ranch house. Cattle are out.” Major bummer.
“I suppose there’s a chance they could belong to the Parnells.” Justin pondered. “If they turn out to be ours, will you have time to run them in?”
“Already on it.” So much for getting off early. That’s the way it was when you worked a ranch. The animals came first. She pocketed the phone and dropped the binocs, winding them around her saddle horn. When she drew her Stetson brim down a bit to better shade her face, her bay quarter horse twisted her neck to give an incredulous look.
“I promised you a warm rubdown and a bucket of grain, but we’ve got to do this.” She patted Aggie’s nut-brown coat. “Duty calls. Are you with me, girl?”
Aggie nickered a bit reluctantly and started the treacherous descent. Rocks and earth crumbled, speeding ahead of them down the steep slope. Autumn stood in her stirrups, leaning back to balance her weight for Aggie. Winter birds scattered, and in the brush up ahead a coyote skedaddled out of sight. The Grand Tetons marched along the horizon, majestic and purple-blue against the amber crispness of the late November plains. Something in the fields below reflected a blinding streak of light. Strange. She grabbed her binocs and looked again. She focused in until the image came clear. A police vehicle sat sideways in the road as if it had turned a corner, saw the cattle and hit the brakes just in time. Interesting.
That couldn’t be the new sheriff, could it? Lord, please let him know what he’s doing. We need a good lawman around here. The town had brought someone in from out of state, but rumor had it the city slicker hired for the job wouldn’t be on until mid-December. Rumors couldn’t always be counted on, and maybe this was proof positive. She gave Aggie more rein as the horse slid the last yard to the buffeting clumps of bunch grass below.
“Good girl,” she praised, patting her mare’s neck. Aggie gave a snort because she knew they would be heading back home the way they came, likely as not. The mare could not be looking forward to climbing up the slope.
Aggie’d had a long day, too. Sympathetic, Autumn lifted her binocs again. This time, she was interested in the cattle. She was close enough to make out the brand.
“Hey, there.” A man in a brand new Stetson, black T, Levis and polished riding boots held up a hand in greeting. He stepped away from his four-wheel drive with “Sheriff” in black on the doors and waded through the fallow grasses. “The cows wouldn’t happen to be yours, would they?”
“No, sir.” She pulled up Aggie, straining to see every last cow flank. “These bear the Parnells’ brand.”
“Parnell? Sorry, I’m new around here.”
“No kidding.” When you lived in a small town, strangers stuck out like a sore thumb. “I’m Autumn Granger.”
“Good to meet you, Miss Granger. I’m Ford Sherman.” He knuckled back his hat to get a better look at her, revealing just about the most handsome face she’d ever set eyes on. Big blue eyes were striking against his suntanned complexion. His nose was straight and strong but not too big for his face, a complement to the slashing cheekbones and a jaw that would make most male models cry. A day’s growth clung to his jawline, a rough texture on a man who was rumored to be city bred.
He was definitely out of place on a Wyoming section road. She wondered how long he would last in these parts. Two weeks, a month before he headed back to urban life?
“I’m trying to find Mustang Road. All I know is that this isn’t it.” He had a nice grin, friendly and unguarded, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Probably a story there, but she didn’t care to know it. Likely as not he wouldn’t be around long enough, and besides, whatever it was, it was personal.
She wasn’t exactly the type of girl any guy went for. “It’s Mustang Lane, and you are about as lost as a soul can get, Sheriff. You need to backtrack to the main county road. Stay on the pavement until you hit the other side of our spread.”
“And I would know that how?”
“It’s the first intersecting road you come to. You have a dazed look on your face. Where are you from?”
“Chicago.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t seen so much open land except in an old Western?”
“I noticed it on the plane when I flew out to interview, but I kept close to town. Didn’t get a chance to wander off the main street.”
“Out here it’s mostly ranches, rangeland and cattle. You’ve got to keep on eye on cows, or don’t you know? They’re going to tear your vehicle apart.”
“What?” He whipped around. Sure enough, the mammoth black-and-white creatures had abandoned their grazing to gnaw on his four-wheel drive. They clustered around it like a mob, mouths and tongues and teeth bent on destruction. One cow tried to pry the wiper off the windshield, another chewed on the side-view mirror. Several leaned through the open window licking the seats. Another pulled a clean T-shirt out of his duffel and waved it in the wind like a prize.
“Shoo!” He didn’t know the first thing about cattle in real life, but he’d read plenty of Westerns where they were easy to scare into a stampede—not that he wanted a stampede, but this was a dire situation. He was responsible for that vehicle. How was he going to explain teeth marks to the town council? “Get up. Move along, little dogie.”
The entire herd swiveled their heads in unison to study him curiously. Not one of them was the least bit scared. Not a single hoof shifted. The animals returned to chewing, licking and digging through his possessions as if he were no threat at all.
“Move along, little dogie?” The woman on the horse laughed, a warm and wonderful sound. She dropped her reins, her hands at her stomach, watching him as if he was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. “That was a good one. I needed that.”
“Glad to help out.” He might be inexperienced with cows, but he understood hard work. “Tough day?”
“Tough and long.” She swiped her eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to poke fun at you. Do you know anything about cattle?”
“Not in real life.” There was a lot he could tell her, but he didn’t. He rather liked the way she watched him with a crook of a grin and a look as if to say she had seen this before. Let her think what she wanted. He gave his hat a tug and turned his attention to her. “I read a lot of Westerns. Or, I did when my granddad was alive. He got me hooked on them. We would sit and read side by side for hours at a time.”
“You must miss him.”
“He passed on about eight years back, and yeah, I still miss him.”
“I know how that is.” She’d lost her mom when she’d been in high school, and then her grandparents died one by one. It was the cycle of life—birth and death, love and grief—turning like the seasons, unable to be stopped. “Next time you come across cows in the road, you have to consider what you’re dealing with. Range cattle are used to being herded. Pets are not.”
“And what I’ve got here are pets?”
“Parnell has four daughters and 4-H animals galore. Watch and learn.” She reined her horse toward the herd.
A cutting horse, he realized, a beautiful creature with a dark brown coat and a long silky black mane and tail. An American quarter horse, pedigreed, by the looks of those fine lines. Considering the dishpan profile, the wide, intelligent eyes and the impeccable conformation, his guess was a very well-pedigreed mare. Even more beautiful was the woman in command, sitting straight in the saddle as if she’d been born to ride. Woman and horse sliced through the middle of the swarm. Autumn Granger pulled something out of the pack tied behind her saddle.
“Look what I have, guys. Cookies.” Wintry sunshine burnished her strawberry-blond hair as she held up a sandwich bag and rattled it.
Cows swung in her direction, abandoning the mirrors, the bumpers and his luggage. Dozens of liquid brown eyes brightened with excitement as she opened the bag and shook it again. The enticing scent of homemade snickerdoodles carried on the wind, and even his stomach growled.
“Follow me.” She circled around the car. The cattle bounded after her, and the earth shook with the force of their powerful hooves.
“It was nice meeting you, Sheriff.” She tipped her hat. She looked awesome and powerful on the back of that horse, but up close it surprised him to see that she was petite and fragile. For all her presence, she was a bit of a thing with a heart-shaped face and delicate features, big, hazel eyes and a sugar-sweet smile. Slim and graceful, she leaned closer. “Don’t worry, they’ll go around you. This isn’t a rampaging stampede.”
“Where are you taking them?”
“Back to the Parnells. Easiest route is the road.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You had best stop off at the feed store and tell Kit at the counter you need molasses treats to keep in your rig. Next time you’ll be on your own, city boy.”
The enormous creatures broke around him, their heads upraised, sniffing the air, their eyes bright with cookie hopes. They dashed around him, shaking the ground and jarring his teeth, and then they were gone, obscured by the rising cloud of dust like something out of an old cowboy movie. But it wasn’t the cows he missed. The cowgirl stayed on his mind, the sweetest thing he had ever seen. He pulled the keys from his pocket, rescued two shirts from the ground and stalked over to his rig.
Autumn ended the call and tucked her cell into her pocket. Parnell would send someone over. The cattle would be taken care of soon. If there wasn’t a single problem getting home and she sped through Aggie’s care and a super-fast shower, she might make it into town to meet her friends on time. Maybe. She could only hope at this point. The work day wasn’t done yet, and who knew what would happen next?
A cow’s sharp moo broke into her thoughts. What was wrong now? She twisted in her saddle. The bulk of the cattle were following her, straining for the cookie bag, but the ones in the back glanced behind them nervously. Another heifer took to lowing in protest. And could she blame them?
Not one bit. The new sheriff had caught up with them. He trailed behind the herd in his Jeep, strobes flashing. What was the man thinking?
“You are going to wear out those lights,” she called above the plod of three dozen cattle.
“Miss Granger, you and the cows are a traffic hazard.” He leaned out the window, his dark hair tousled by the wind. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, so I’m escorting you.”
“Turn the lights off. They are giving me a headache and the cows aren’t liking it.”
“Sorry, no can do. It’s procedure.”
“I can keep this herd together if they bolt, but I’d rather not work Aggie that hard. She’s had a long day, too.”
“I don’t want to get fired. The lights stay on.”
“Don’t you know better than to argue with a woman who’s packing?” Not that she would shoot him or anyone—the Colt .45 she carried was strictly for frightening off wildlife and the occasional rattler—but it was fun to see the question pass across his face.
“You’ve got a permit for that?”
A permit? Autumn found herself grinning wider. He wasn’t too bad for an outsider, especially when he cut the lights. Nope, not a bad guy at all. The big question was how long he would last before he went the way of three out of the last four lawmen who’d held his job. They’d run back to city life as fast as they could bolt.
She rode along, attention on the cattle. The animals closest to her held their heads up and their tongues out, trying to hook the cookie bag. When she hit the main road, she leaned right and led the herd along the pavement. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the sheriff’s SUV ambling the wrong way in the oncoming lane, headlights bright to warn any approaching traffic.
A little overkill, considering the only vehicle they came across was Jeremy Miller in his semi-sized tractor rumbling toward them at a leisurely clip. Autumn waved when Jeremy did.
“Who’s the yahoo with the lights?” The rancher leaned out his window.
“The new sheriff.”
“Just my luck. I didn’t think he was supposed to start until December.”
“Neither did I.” She glanced over her shoulder. The sheriff had eased back behind her to give the tractor his lane. “Did you see Parnell back there?”
“Spotted two of his girls riding down the hill. They ought to catch up with you in a few.” Jeremy tipped his Stetson and raised his window, so that air conditioning and satellite radio kept him comfy and entertained as he rolled along. She suspected he waved to the sheriff, but she didn’t look to be sure.
I give him three months tops before he heads back to Chicago, she thought, glancing over her shoulder. Yep, there he was back in the oncoming lane, trying to keep the cattle from drifting over into it, determined to protect the ranching population of White Horse County from a few cows on a rangeland road. Poor guy. Probably really thought he was helping.
She spotted the Parnell girls on the next rise. Both high school girls trotted along the road, horses’ manes flying. When they were closer, one of them—Ashleigh—held up a small pail and rattled it. “Grain!”
Cow heads swung higher. The promise of cookies was forgotten as excited moos rang out and the three dozen animals took off at an eager lope.
“Thanks, Autumn!” Hazel called out.
“No problem.” She drew Aggie to a stop and rested her hands on the pommel. The saddle’s leather was cool from the near-freezing temperature.
“Is that the new sheriff?” Ashleigh asked.
“So I’m told.” Behind her she heard a door whisk open and an engine idling.
“I didn’t know he was in town already. Cool.” The girls wheeled their mounts and took off, trailed by their pets, who raced after them. “Why are you here?” Autumn urged Aggie around to face the newcomer. “It’s not December.”
“Came early to get settled in. I’m not officially on the clock yet. The mayor told me I could have the car for personal use. Part of my salary.”
“That and you’re the only officer around, so you get to answer all the emergency calls. Even in the middle of the night. Did he tell you that?”
“I heard a fleeting mention. The mayor made it sound like it was no big deal. Do emergency calls come in a lot around here?”
“I have no idea.” She dismounted with a creak of the saddle and the thud of her boots on the road. Couldn’t be more than five foot three, he decided. She stood a full foot shorter than he did.
“Is there anything else I should know? Wait. Maybe I don’t want to hear it. Maybe next you’ll be telling me Miller’s rental house is really a henhouse.” Couldn’t say why he felt the need to tease another smile from her, but he did.
“No, but it is a barn.”
“What?” He’d only been joking. His pulse screeched to a stop. A barn? He’d trusted the real estate agent, who was the mayor’s wife. “That’s what I get for renting sight unseen.”
“You figured you could trust us honest country folk, right?” Her hazel eyes, an amazing combination of browns, greens and golds twinkled like veiled trouble.
He didn’t think she was laughing at him, but she was having fun with him. He had the feeling he wasn’t the first city boy who’d come to these parts and had decided to banter with the pretty cowgirl. Very pretty, he corrected. So pretty that he’d like to get to know her more.
“Living in a barn won’t be so bad.” She turned to her saddle pack and dug through the leather bag. “Think of it this way. Because of all the animals, you will always have company. You’ll get the full country experience. Plus, you won’t have to pack water far at all, since there’s an outside pump nearby.”
“Pump?” That didn’t sound like the place had indoor plumbing. “Are you serious? No, you’re kidding me.”
“You read all those Westerns. You ought to know about ranch life.” She handed him a roll of duct tape. “It’s probably illegal to drive without a functioning side-view mirror. Good luck, Sheriff.”
“Do you want to have dinner with me?”
“Nope. I’m busy tonight.” That was an urban dude for you, always eager to play the dating game.
“Any night, then. How about Friday?”
“Can’t. Busy then, too.” She swung into the saddle, settled into the stirrups and considered the man leaning against the side of his four-wheel-drive. He was trying to look suave while clutching a roll of tape and standing next to a dangling mirror. The cows had not been kind to the vehicle. “Here’s a hint. Country girls aren’t dumb or easy. Have a good evening.”
“I never thought—”
She pressed her heels to Aggie’s side and the mare took of, eager for the day to be over, too. Autumn tipped her hat as they raced by. This wasn’t her first experience with a city sheriff come to town.
I don’t know about that guy, she told herself, leaning forward in her saddle as Aggie’s gait changed to a canter. Sheriff Ford Sherman might not be Denny Jones, but he may as well be.
The drum of Aggie’s steel shoes became pleasant music to match the wind whistling in her ears as they raced home.
