“Hey, this is Charlie we’re talking about.” Travis’s voice danced with humor. “When have you known him to be serious about anything?”
An expression that could have been hurt crossed Charlie’s face, quickly replaced by his usual cocky grin. “She started dropping hints about a ring and a future together,” he explained with a shrug. “I figured it was time for a clean break.”
“You should think about settling down,” Travis told him. “Marriage to the right woman beats single hands-down.”
“Yeah, but Rory’s already married,” Charlie replied with exaggerated petulance, “and you won’t share.”
“Damn right,” Travis agreed. “You had your chance with her.”
Five years before, Charlie had decided that Travis needed some help in the romance department, so he located Rory through a pen pal service and persuaded her to come out from New York for a visit. The day of her arrival, Charlie disappeared, leaving Travis to deal with her. By the time Charlie came back, Travis had fallen for her just as his younger brother had planned all along.
Until Charlie managed to convince Travis that he’d never intended her for himself, relations had been strained, to say the least. Ever since then, Charlie had taken full credit for finding his brother a bride, much to Travis’s annoyance and Adam’s unease. Charlie had been warned he’d spend six months in a line shack with only the herd for company if he even thought about pulling a similar trick on Adam.
Adam signaled the dogs to get the cattle moving while Charlie and Travis fanned out. Adam hadn’t yet told Travis that the woman who’d bought the Johnson place was the same one Adam had collided with at the feed store.
“Has this gal got a husband?” Charlie called out. “I could drop by and pay a neighborly visit after church tomorrow, encourage her to sell.” Despite his matchmaking talent, Charlie had never tied the knot, and he fancied himself a bit of a ladies’ man. Most of the local female population would probably agree. All he had to do was smile and flash his dimples. Women fell like apples from a tree.
Adam wished they were driving a larger herd, so they’d be too far apart for conversation, or that the cattle would bolt, necessitating a wild chase. For once the dogs were doing too good a job keeping them tight.
Adam was tempted to tell Charlie that Emily was married to a pro wrestler from cable television or that she was eighty-five years old and chewed tobacco. “Don’t trouble yourself,” he said instead, the surge of irritation he felt making him more than a little uneasy. “I’ll handle her.”
“He’s holding out on us,” Charlie called out to Travis. “I’ll bet you a ten spot she’s pretty.”
“Adam’s idea of pretty is a horse with spots on its butt.” Travis glanced pointedly at Adam’s Appaloosa.
Adam fiddled with the bandanna he’d tied around his neck. The other two would be on him like dogs on fresh meat if they suspected he was keeping something back. “Do you remember that woman at the feed store?” he asked Travis, as though she’d barely caught their notice. “We wondered at the time if that little sissy truck with the out-of-state plates was hers.”
Travis’s expression was speculative. “The cute little blonde you tried to knock down? Of course I remember. I’m married, not dead.”
“What’s this?” Charlie demanded, reining his mount closer to the other two. “Why haven’t I heard about her before?”
“It wasn’t important,” Adam said, exasperated.
“Are you telling us that she’s the one who bought the Johnson place?” Travis’s tone was incredulous. So much for slipping that little fact unnoticed into the conversation.
“Who is she?” Charlie asked, glancing back and forth between his two brothers, neither of whom was paying him any mind. “Would someone kindly tell me what’s going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Travis drawled.
“Nothing’s going on,” Adam exclaimed. “I’m doing my best to close a business deal for the good of the Running W, just like I always do.” He hadn’t meant to add that last part. They were all keenly aware of what running the ranch had cost him, but it wasn’t his intention to whine about it.
Travis gathered up his reins and urged his mount forward as a determined heifer broke from the group, her calf struggling to keep up with her. One of the dogs streaked past Adam, barking excitedly while Charlie headed in the other direction before the rest of the herd could follow.
Swearing under his breath, Adam prepared to join the fray before one of the animals got hurt. At least the skirmish had served one good purpose: it gave his brothers something to focus on besides Emily Major. With luck he’d have a signed deed in his pocket before the subject came up again.
The little country church with its stained-glass windows and narrow steeple poking up toward heaven belonged on a Christmas card sprinkled with silver glitter, Emily thought as she drove past the worshippers starting to head up the walkway lined in flower beds to the open front doors. Several people turned to stare as she parked her silver-blue pickup at the end of a row of freshly washed cars and trucks.
Her palms were damp on the steering wheel, and she wished that David hadn’t woken up this morning with the start of a cold. Refusing to put her own need for moral support ahead of the best interest of her child, she’d sent him back to bed after breakfast and set out for church by herself. From parent-teacher conferences to Little League games, she was used to showing up alone, she reminded herself as she checked her makeup in the rearview mirror. Stuart had usually been too busy working to join her, but he’d found the time to father a half sister for David without Emily suspecting a thing.
Taking a deep breath, she got out of her truck, smoothed down the long skirt of her black-and-white polka-dotted dress, relaxed the death grip on her purse and marched across the grass with what she hoped was a pleasant expression plastered on her face. She’d planned to arrive at the last minute so she could slip into the back of the congregation unnoticed, but the drive hadn’t taken as long as she’d figured.
As Emily approached the sea of strangers, a dark-haired man with a mustache glanced her way. He was carrying a little girl with bright orange curls, and something about his face looked vaguely familiar. He spoke to the woman at his side, a tall, striking redhead holding a little boy’s hand. Except for the swell of her stomach, she was as willowy as a dancer. They watched Emily with welcoming smiles as though they’d been waiting to greet her.
“Welcome,” the woman said. “I’m Rory Winchester, and this is my husband, Travis.”
Emily’s relief at the friendly overture turned to dismay when she heard their last name. Warily she glanced around, but she didn’t see the man she’d initially mistaken for an overenthusiastic suitor.
“Hi, I’m Emily Major,” she replied, shaking first the hand Travis Winchester extended and then his wife’s. Her skin was softer than his, and without the calluses, but her grip was equally firm despite her ultrafeminine appearance.
The little girl in the crook of Travis’s arm flashed Emily an impressive set of dimples. Her eyes were the same navy blue as her mother’s.
“This is Lucy, and that’s our son, Steven,” Travis said with a warm glance at the dark-haired boy.
“Pleased to meet you,” he recited politely, his cheeks turning pink as he looked up at Emily.
Emily greeted both children. Steven ducked his head, and Lucy studied her with a child’s frank stare.
“I recognized you from the feed store,” Travis said. “I was with my brother when he tried to run you over in the doorway.