Melanie chuckled, a low, raspy sound. “I take it Shelley’s not too pleased that her dad dragged her here to Snyderville?”
“Nope. Not pleased at all.” He smiled, feeling oddly happy to be talking to this woman. Being near her was the highlight of his day.
“Well, a friend might do my Anne some good, and I could sure use your help around this place.” She hesitated, wrapping her arms around her waist. The action made her seem vulnerable and he was struck by a sudden desire to protect her.
“So it’s a deal?” he urged.
“Okay, we’ll try it for one week. If the girls don’t get along or it’s not working out, you’ll have to take Shelley somewhere else. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
She gave him a smile so bright he had to blink. It lit up her face and softened her eyes and he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.
What was wrong with him?
He coughed and looked away. “Now that’s settled, I’ve got one more question for you.”
“Okay.” Her green eyes looked guarded.
“Anne said something yesterday that’s been bothering me.”
“What’s that?” Melanie prodded.
“She blamed me for her father’s death.”
Melanie rubbed her ear before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Please don’t hold that against her. She’s still hurting over her dad’s death and doesn’t trust men very much.”
“But why would she blame me?” Scott spoke gently, trying to be sensitive to their loss. Trying to understand.
“It was an accident. Ben Stimpson warned Aaron to move our sheep, but Aaron wouldn’t listen.”
“Ben Stimpson, the previous ranger?”
Melanie nodded. “I didn’t know until after the accident that Aaron was grazing illegally on the forest. He moved one of our bands of sheep onto the grazing allotment twenty days early and Stimpson told him to move them or he’d have them moved for us. Stimpson said he’d sell them to pay the fine.”
Scott would have done the same, after one fair warning with enough time to move the sheep. “So what happened?”
She shrugged one slim shoulder. “Aaron wasn’t in any shape to move the flock. He… He’d been ill and went out during a thunderstorm.”
From Melanie’s hesitation, Scott couldn’t help wondering if Aaron McAllister had been drunk that night.
“I begged him to wait until the next day when some of our men could have helped, but we couldn’t afford to pay another fine. He was angry and wouldn’t listen to reason. Our herder found him the next morning. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident.” Emotion thickened her words and she turned away, brushing at her eyes.
Scott longed to comfort her, but realized now wasn’t the time. Compassion settled in his chest. She’d obviously loved her husband and he couldn’t help wishing someone felt that way about him.
He shifted his weight and leaned against a fence post. “So now Anne blames the forest ranger—any forest ranger—for her dad’s death.”
Melanie’s mouth tightened, her eyes filled with sadness. “Yes. He died from a broken neck. His horse had a broken leg and had to be put down. We figure the animal stumbled or lightning spooked it. We’ll never know for sure.” She sighed heavily. “If Aaron had waited until morning, we would have had to pay a hefty fine…but he’d still be alive.”
“And what about Ben Stimpson?” He hated to push her, but longed to know exactly what the other ranger had done to spook her.
Her spine stiffened. “What about him?”
“Did he fine you for the sheep, even though your husband died trying to move them?”
Angry tears filled her eyes. “He was going to, but that’s when several men wearing ski masks paid him a visit in the middle of the night and threatened him. He and his family left town the next day.”
Something cold clutched at Scott’s heart. He figured Stimpson deserved to be chased out of town, but the thought of masked men coming to his house in the middle of the night and terrorizing Shelley didn’t sit well with him. “Who were the men?”
“I don’t know their identities, but as far as I’m concerned, they were my guardian angels.”
Her voice cracked and so did his heart. Scott sensed that she’d reached deep inside herself to tell him these things. Private feelings she probably hadn’t shared with many people. He wasn’t about to take her admissions lightly.
“I’m sorry, Melanie.” What else could he say? It wasn’t anyone’s fault Aaron died; it just happened. But that didn’t make Scott feel any better about the way Stimpson had treated the McAllisters.
“Anne’s just a child. One day, she’ll understand about her father,” Melanie explained.
Scott had doubts. “Traumatic events can scar children so they never forget. Shelley hasn’t said so, but I sense that she blames me for my divorce from her mom.”
He regretted his failings and wished more than anything that Shelley would forgive him.
Melanie gave a hoarse laugh. “It seems that you’re bearing the brunt of everyone’s blame these days.”
“I guess so.” He chuckled, the sound low and rumbly. Inside, he ached with regret.
“I didn’t mean to unload on you,” she confessed. “You’re the last person I should confide in.”
And yet, she had. Somehow it made him feel close to her, and he’d sworn never to get close to another woman again. Especially not a widowed rancher whose young daughter hated him.
Remembering his job and his purpose here in Snyderville, he stepped back. He must keep his relationship with Melanie McAllister completely professional. He had no room for friendship or romance in his life right now. He had to remember that.
“You shouldn’t be in here.” Anne eyed the strange girl as she stepped into the shadows of the lambing shed.
The black-and-white dog followed Shelley inside, and Anne pointed at the door while speaking in a stern tone. “Get out, Bob. You know you’re not supposed to be in the lambing sheds.”
Used to responding promptly to orders, Bob obeyed without even a whine.
Anne frowned when the girl didn’t turn and follow the dog out. “Who are you?”
“I’m Shelley. Your mom told me to come and help you feed the baby lambs.”
Anne stared at the girl’s long, bare legs, white sandals and blue-painted toenails. Maybe Mom would let her buy some blue nail polish the next time they went shopping in Evanston. All she had was pink and red. “You can’t feed lambs dressed like that.”
“Why not?” Shelley stepped backward into a pile of manure. Crinkling her nose with repugnance, she wiped her sandal off on a clean bed of straw before moving to stand over by the wall.
Anne shook her head in disgust, figuring she didn’t need to point out the obvious. “Where’d you come from?”
“My dad and I brought your mom a plate