“I don’t have much to keep me anchored in the United States, that’s all.”
“The ranch was my anchor...perhaps my prison, as well.”
The last words were mumbled, and Tara wasn’t sure she’d understood him correctly. She sat quietly while his eyelids drooped; she wasn’t in a hurry and he looked tired. After a few minutes, he shook himself and sat forward.
“My apologies. It’s those blasted pain pills the doctor gave me. But I won’t need them much longer. I’m set on that.” His voice was grimly determined.
While she knew she might be romanticizing the moment, Tara suspected she was seeing the grit made legendary in movie Westerns, except this wasn’t two stylized hours on celluloid. It was the real thing.
“I’ve got to check on a new foal,” Walt said, lurching to his feet. “Go ahead and poke around. Vanta explained you work as a contractor, setting your own hours and such, which is fine with me. If you don’t want to tackle such a mess, there won’t be any hard feelings.”
“Don’t worry, Walt. I think it’s going to work out fine. Just so you know, some of the time I’ll work only mornings or afternoons, depending on my other commitments and whether my sister has the time off.”
He nodded. “That’s fine. Shake on it?”
Tara took his hand and was surprised by the firmness of his grip. She also realized that the odd sense of connection she’d experienced was even stronger than when she had met him at the hospital. He was different from the suave, cosmopolitan executives she normally worked with; there was something rough and genuine about Walt Nelson.
“By the way,” he added, “just to be clear, I’m the one hiring you, not the Boxing N.”
Not sure what the difference meant, she nodded. There could be a trust involved or something that made it important to clarify. She’d probably learn the reasons as she went along.
Once Tara was alone in the office, she began looking through various stacks and drawers, cubbyholes and shelves. There were at least fifty years of ranch records, many of them mixed up with current paperwork.
Twenty minutes later she ran across a yellowed handwritten invoice dated 1872, wherein a Zebedee Nelson recorded the sale of fifty head of cattle. The expense of the cattle drive bringing them to market was annotated on the bottom. It was a whole lot more interesting than most corporate historical records she’d seen, and as she sat studying the paper, a soft breeze came through an open window.
In Paris she’d worked in a modern high-rise, surrounded by desks, bright uniform lights and the hum of hundreds of people going about their business. This would be a nice break, at least for the time being. She had a feeling Lauren hoped she would consider staying in Schuyler, but Tara had always felt the need to be constantly moving forward. She couldn’t picture giving up her career and staying in one place.
* * *
JOSH TURNED OFF his satellite phone as he rode toward the Boxing N ranch center. He was discouraged. After two days of having a help wanted ad in the local newspaper, his only calls had been from a high school senior looking for an after-school job and a retired pharmacist who’d moved to Schuyler the previous autumn and had “always wanted to be a cowboy.”
Surely it would get better. And after he got more help on the ranch, there’d be time for some of the other things that had to be done.
A silver Toyota was parked by the ranch office, and Josh frowned. In the past, his grandfather had met his cronies there because they could smoke their cigars without bothering his wife. But Walt had given up smoking years ago, and since Evelyn was gone, he no longer needed the office as a separate gathering spot. Still, old habits died hard.
After grooming Lightfoot, Josh tiredly made his way to the foreman’s house and slumped into an Adirondack chair on the porch. But as two figures came out of the ranch office and stood together beside the car, Josh leaned forward. One of them was his grandfather; Walt’s labored pace was impossible to mistake. But the other was a woman, and even from this distance, Josh could see she possessed very attractive curves.
Curiosity drove him to his feet, and he strode toward the office. But as he got closer, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Tara Livingston. What the devil was she doing here?
“Hey, Grandpa,” he said as he came close. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course,” Walt said. He appeared thoroughly self-satisfied, which was instantly worrisome. “As I recall, you’ve already met Miss Livingston. I just hired her to get the office in order.”
Josh managed to swallow the “hell, no,” that instantly leaped into his mouth. “Really?” he choked out instead. If it wasn’t one complication, it was another.
“Yep. I’ve been thinking about doing it, and she came along at the right moment.”
Tara’s eyes sparkled, and Josh was sure she’d guessed his reaction.
“I see,” he said. “Perhaps you could have consulted me first.”
“No point,” Walt informed him stiffly. “I told you I’d take care of things. Tara, when will you be starting?”
“Monday.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll see you then.” With that, he limped toward the main house.
Josh watched his grandfather’s retreating figure in disbelief.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Tara, “there’s been a mistake. This is my ranch now, and I’m still evaluating what to do with the office. Your services won’t be needed.”
A smile played on her lips. “It isn’t your decision. Mr. Nelson was very clear that he was hiring me, not the ranch.”
“That doesn’t make any difference,” Josh returned quickly. “Please tell my grandfather that you can’t work for him. Anyway, I understand you’re here on an extended vacation. Why would you want a job?”
She shrugged, and he couldn’t help noticing the way her silk blouse slid over her breasts. Crap. It didn’t make sense—Lauren had never made him react this way.
“It really isn’t a vacation, I’m here to get to know my sister,” she said. “But Lauren has her own job and I’m not used to being idle. So when folks started asking if I was available to work, I thought it was a good way to keep occupied.”
“Why the Boxing N?”
“It’s as good a place as any. I’m taking contracts at more than one location, but I have a feeling this will be my favorite.”
“If you’ve got employment elsewhere, you don’t need to work here.”
Tara’s blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not for you to tell me what to do.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing. I was just pointing out that you don’t seem to need the job here.”
“Are you also the arbiter of what I need?”
“I didn’t say that, either,” Josh insisted.
“Sure you did. What’s your problem, anyhow? I’m only asking because I’ll be working at the Boxing N and your attitude affects me.”
His head was starting to spin. “Then quit.”
She shrugged. “Technically I’m a freelance contractor, but regardless, I have no intention of quitting. And if you think you can fire me, reconsider the thought. Do I need to point out again that Mr. Nelson made it very clear that I’ll be working for him, not the ranch? I’ll be looking out for his interests, not yours.”
Josh counted to ten, then to ten once more. She had him over a barrel. As much as he wanted to lay down the