A Ranch Between Them, page 20
He rolled down the window and Rosalie forced a smile. “Good morning, Vince. Quite a snowfall.”
“It’s not going to work,” Vince said darkly.
“Excuse me?” Rosalie and Gloria said in unison.
“Siccing Will McGuire on me. Nice try.”
“I did not sic anyone on you,” Rosalie said coldly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Vince gave a disbelieving laugh. “He just decided to attend a city council meeting and to make a public comment about how shameful my behavior was regarding ‘overly strict’ enforcement of zoning regulations?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“And I suppose you don’t know that he had the temerity to accost me in the parking lot and tell me to keep my distance from you or else?”
Something in Rosalie’s chest went still. He’d done that?
She barely kept from saying the words aloud. Instead, she drew herself up and said, “I have no control over Will McGuire and I certainly did not ask him to speak on my behalf. I am fully capable of speaking for myself.”
Vince smirked at her. “Then next time perhaps you should do that.” He nodded at the house behind her. “There’s a very nice property for sale on the other side of Main Street. Close to the business district.”
“We like this house,” Gloria said, picking up her shovel and approaching Vince’s truck as if she meant to do it, or him, bodily harm. “So I suggest that you tell your friend the snowplow man to lift his blade for our property, too, or I will be at the next city council meeting asking for an explanation.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ve taken photos.”
Vince gave another sneering smirk and began rolling up the window. “Good day, ladies,” he said before the window shut.
Gloria let out a sigh as he drove down the street.
“I truly dislike that man.”
“Yes,” Rosalie said in a distracted way, her eyes narrowed as she watched the truck travel down the street.
“Are you all right?”
“I will be—once I settle a few things with one Will McGuire.”
“Surely you don’t have a problem with him voicing support.”
Rosalie gave Gloria a quick look. “No. I have a problem with him putting his nose in our business without giving us a heads-up.”
Rosalie knew where to find Will if he was in town—the same place he and Carl had gathered on Wednesday mornings to discuss cattle prices and ranch issues: the feed co-op. And it just so happened that it was Wednesday.
After shoveling the driveway to the point that she could get her car out, Rosalie headed down to the co-op, and sure enough, Will’s truck was parked in its usual spot—right next to the spot where Carl had parked. She got out of her car and marched into the store, which was essentially empty, with the exception of the men gathered in the back around a long table.
“Will McGuire. A word, please.”
He scooted his chair back and got to his feet, while his friends made no effort to hide their interest in what was happening. Why had Carl Callahan’s widow stomped into the co-op?
Well, Will could come up with whatever explanation he wanted, after she’d had her say.
She waited until they were close to the front of the store, out of earshot and hidden from view by a display of various seed types.
“I’ve been informed that you went to the city council meeting and discussed enforcement of zoning ordinances.”
“I did.”
“And that you not so subtly threatened Vince Taylor in the parking lot afterward.”
Will opened his mouth to speak, and even though Rosalie had fully intended to hear him out, instead she pointed her finger at him and said in a low voice, “Do not ever threaten anyone on my account. Ever. Do you understand me?”
“Rosalie—”
“Ever,” she repeated.
“The only thing Vince Taylor understands is threats.”
“Then I will do the threatening. You are not to intercede on my behalf again. Do. You. Understand?”
He nodded, his striking blue eyes narrowing. “I was acting as a friend.”
“Friends keep the channels of communication open. They do not act without informing the parties involved of their intentions.”
“If I’d done that, what would you have said?”
“Exactly what I’m saying now.” Rosalie pulled in a breath, wishing her cheeks didn’t feel so embarrassingly warm. “I’ll fight my own battles. If I need help, I’ll call.”
* * *
WHEN BRADY ARRIVED at Chet Jacobs’s office in a strip mall near the Missoula city limits, he found the door locked, and a quick glance through the tinted window showed that the place was abandoned and not simply closed for the holidays. He felt like puking. Instead, he leaned his hands against his truck in the almost-empty parking lot and hung his head.
What now?
With no money, there’d be no land. No selling at a profit and reinvesting. No security.
A car pulled into the lot and parked a few spaces away, bringing his head up. The driver got out, giving him an odd look before locking her car and heading into a nail salon. On impulse, Brady followed her into the salon on the off chance that someone there might be familiar with Jacobs and his habits. The bored girl at the counter knew nothing about the guy in the offices four doors down. No—she’d never even seen him, but she had seen the lights on recently. It was dark when she started home, so she recalled that small fact, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the lights on.
Brady left the salon and headed for his truck.
He had little choice but to file a police report, even though it was probably a hopeless endeavor. He’d brought what little documentation he had with him, in case he needed it while dealing with Jacobs, but instead he’d be leaving copies with the police report. Not that there was a lot the police could do until Jacobs was located, and chances were that he was far, far away.
Brady called his fellow bronc rider, gave him the bad news about their agent, then started driving back to Gavin before he realized his tank was almost empty. Wouldn’t that add insult to injury?
He pulled off at the next exit, filled his tank and called Nick, who was still on the road between California and Montana.
“What’s going on with your agent?” Nick asked. “Did you find him?”
“I take it you spoke to Katie.” And just how angry was she?
“Yeah. She filled me in when I texted my location. So, what’s the deal?”
The deal was that he was in deep trouble.
“His office is locked. I filed a police report.” Nick muttered a curse, but before he could say anything, Brady asked, “Do you need me on the ranch over the next few days?”
“I’ll be home tomorrow, so feel free to do whatever you have to do.” Nick hesitated, then asked, “What do you have to do?” He sounded as if he fully expected Brady to go on a rampage. If Brady had any idea where to find Jacobs, he might just do that.
“I don’t know.” But the honest truth was that he wanted to avoid a showdown with Katie. “I have to meet with Stan and Abe Jr., tell them what happened and see what they say.” The chances of him being able to work out a deal without a down payment were next to nil, but he had to give it a shot.
“You know you always have a place on our ranch.”
“I know.”
A place his pride would have a hard time letting himself accept unless he had something to give back, and until Nick started farming the ranch and bought more stock, he wouldn’t need Brady. Besides that, losing this chunk of money changed everything. Being a day hand wasn’t going to build his future. Wasn’t going to get him his own place. He wouldn’t be able to save enough for retirement and health care... Yeah. Being a day hand would have been enough to make his payments. It wasn’t enough to start over with no savings.
He was screwed.
“I need more than a place, Nick.” He didn’t know how to explain that, after being on top for so long, he couldn’t take being on the bottom for much longer. “I need a job and a purpose.” Something he could take pride in.
“Yeah,” Nick said softly. “I get that. Just...don’t do anything reckless. Or at least don’t do anything reckless until I come back.”
Reckless was his middle name. How was he supposed to change his ways now?
“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”
The Larson Stock offices were closed for the Christmas holidays, but Brady managed to arrange a meeting with Stan and Abe Jr. as he drove back from Missoula.
He explained what happened in a few sentences, then offered up an alternative plan. A balloon payment if Abe Jr. would allow him some time. No go.
While they were sympathetic to his predicament, Abe Jr., in particular, was a businessman and after the meeting Stan told Brady that the rich guy who’d made an offer on the remaining Hayden Valley acreages would snap up the homestead in a second. Abe Jr. was not motivated to make a new deal with Brady, and he wasn’t a particularly sentimental man. Brady got no points for being a hometown guy who’d been slapped around by life.
“Sorry it worked out this way.” Stan slipped his hands in his back pockets.
Even if he was able to chase down Jacobs and his missing funds, it was clear that his real estate deal was sunk. He could tick Land Baron off his list of possible career opportunities.
“Guess it’s time for plan B.”
“Do you have a plan B?”
“Yeah. I do.” It was called online job search. He was no longer tied to the Gavin area, because he no longer had a land deal to anchor him there. He was free to go anyplace in the state—in the country, really—where he could find a job that didn’t involve too much physical labor. And not a lot of training.
Why, the possibilities had to be endless.
Crazy that for more than half a decade he won time and time again. And now he kept losing. But damned if he was going to feel sorry for himself. He was going to pull himself up out of this hole into which he’d fallen—before more dirt got shoved down on top of him.
Stan held out his hand and Brady shook it. “I appreciate the help.”
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything else from the Bar HM Ranch.”
Brady shook his head. “I’ll find my own job.” He was done reeling in favors. “But thanks.”
He left the office and crossed the snowy sidewalk where he stopped at his truck, hesitated for a moment before opening the door. His body felt heavy. His leg hurt.
And he had to talk to Katie when he got back to the ranch. Explain to her that once Nick got back, he was moving on, because he had to. He was so glad he hadn’t let things get as serious between them as he’d wanted to. That some small voice had kept nudging him to hold back until he was certain of his future.
Well, he was certain now—about what he didn’t have.
* * *
KATIE DROVE TO town after Brady had left on his mission to Missoula. She couldn’t relax so she decided to shop. She returned home with the makings for Christmas dinner and all kinds of kid-friendly foods. Nick and his girls would be arriving later that evening and they’d be hungry.
And because food shopping hadn’t kept her from worrying about Brady, she’d walked down Main Street, soaking up the Christmas ambience and buying several small gifts for her nieces. Yes, she was going to spoil them. But it was Christmas. What better time to spoil a couple of adorable little girls? A pleasant afternoon visit with her grandmother, during which she took care not to mention Brady or his problems, had helped her relax. She’d even hummed a few Christmas carols on the way home, but the sight of Brady’s truck parked in front of Ed’s house wiped all thoughts of Christmas straight out of her head as she bumped over the snowy cattle guard.
Okay. There would be answers. To a lot of questions. Had he found his agent? Had it all been a big mistake? And, if not, what was he going to do?
Her stomach worked itself into a big fat knot as she pulled to a stop in her usual spot. She’d got out of the truck and had just opened the rear door when she heard him crossing the driveway toward her. She pulled out an armload of grocery bags, telling herself that she needed to keep cool and not let her anxiety show. Brady did the same, closing the door and then following Katie into the house.
“How were the roads?” she asked as she pulled open the door and then snapped on a light.
“Not bad.”
Once inside they stomped the snow off their boots on the rug, then set the bags on the blue quartzite countertop.
“Nick should be home shortly,” Katie said.
“That’s good. I need to talk with him.”
She didn’t like the note of finality in his voice, as if he’d come to a decision and nothing was going to deter him from it.
She pulled the milk out of the closest bag on the countertop. “What happened in Missoula?”
“The offices were locked up tight. I filed a police report, but long story short, I won’t be getting the homestead property from the Larsons.”
Her stomach plummeted. “That’s a certainty?”
“Even if I get my money back from Jacobs, which I think is a real long shot, there’s another guy hot for the property, and he’s offered more money. Abe Jr. is accepting his offer.”
She set the milk back on the counter. “What now?”
He shifted his weight. “Nick offered to let me stay on, but we both know that until spring hits, he doesn’t need the extra help.”
“What are you going to do, Brady?”
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I had time to think as I drove. I won’t stay here and get a check for doing next to nothing. That’s not right.” She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him that depending on friends during hard times was natural, that it wasn’t a reason to be ashamed, but before she could get a word out, he said, “I made calls as I drove. I contacted a bucking school in Vegas that needs staff.”
Of course. A bucking school. Did it get any more perfect than that? A job Brady was totally suited for.
“Why didn’t you call them before? When you got out of the hospital?”
“I was done with rodeo,” he said simply.
“And now you’re not.”
“Now my other plan has exploded in my face and I’m in a much different position,” he said tightly.
“Do you want to go back to rodeo?”
No. She could read it in his face. It must still hurt not to be able to do what he’d once loved. What he’d sacrificed so much to do.
“I don’t have any choice. The job’s not permanent, but it’s a job. Something I’d be good at.”
For a long moment they faced off and she wondered if Brady knew what a clear read he was. He wasn’t perfect. His life wasn’t perfect. Therefore, he was leaving...even though she was certain he had strong feelings for her. That was the kicker. Didn’t he realize that by protecting her, he was ripping out her heart?
Lesser of two evils, in his mind.
“Are you going to disappear from my life?” she asked softly.
“No.”
“I don’t know if I believe you.” It was so easy to see Brady meaning to come back, but talking himself out of it in order to protect her from, what? An economically uncertain future?
A flash of pain crossed his face at her flatly spoken words, and then his expression blanked out. Classic Brady protection mode.
She wanted to step forward, to wrap her arms around him and tell him that they could work through this together, but it didn’t appear that the word together was part of Brady’s working vocabulary.
“Are you staying for Christmas?” Two days away.
“Actually, I’m going to start traveling tomorrow.”
“You’re going to travel on Christmas Eve and spend Christmas alone in Vegas?” If she sounded outraged, it was because she was.
“No one is alone in Vegas.”
His joke fell flat.
Katie pointed a finger at his chest. “I know you think you’re protecting me—”
“I have nothing to offer.” His voice was edged with anger.
Good. Katie was feeling a bit of that anger herself. She just started to speak when lights reflected off the windows. Nick was there.
“Looks like you get to have that talk,” she said grimly. “The sooner you quit, the sooner you can escape.”
“I’m not escaping. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
For a moment, Katie thought her head was going to explode. She pulled in a slow breath and then managed to grit out the truth as she saw it.
“You’re a fair-weather relationship guy.” He opened his mouth, as if to protest, but she held up a hand. “You don’t trust other people to take the bumps in the road with you.”
Just outside the window, Nick’s truck pulled to a stop next to Katie’s, but Brady didn’t seem to hear the opening and closing of doors or the excited voices of little girls. Instead, his gaze remained locked on Katie’s.
“I don’t want to make them take the bumps.”
Katie gave a scoffing breath as footsteps sounded on the porch. It was time to act normal, but before that she had one last thing to say. “Yeah. And until you get over that, I think you’re going to be one lonely guy.”
She may have been hearing things, but as the door opened and her nieces tumbled into the kitchen, she swore she heard him mutter, “Nothing new there.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ROSALIE GLANCED OVER at Katie, who was creaming eggs and butter for Christmas cookies with a vengeance, the wooden spoon thumping rhythmically against the side of the stainless-steel bowl as she stirred.
“You’re very quiet over there.” With the exception of the wooden spoon percussion, that is.
