Her Holiday Rancher

In hindsight, she should have waited to take General out until later in the week when she was less busy. But she hated seeing the stout gelding cooped up day after day in his stall, barely ridden.

It wasn’t her father’s fault. He would exercise General every day if his health permitted. This morning, simply crawling out of bed to attend August Dempsey’s funeral had been a challenge. Riding was out of the question.

“It was nice of you to come today,” Gabe said, rousing her from her thoughts.

“My father may not have gotten along with yours, but he respected him greatly. We wouldn’t have missed the funeral.”

Gabe’s response was another noncommittal grunt.

The mare stumbled on the steep incline, causing Reese to grip Gabe’s waist tighter.

“Maybe I should get off and walk,” she suggested, acutely aware of his broad, strong back through the thick fabric of his coat.

“We’re almost to the road.”

It was the longest fifteen minutes ever. Immediately upon dismounting, she examined General. The poor horse was on the verge of collapsing.

She got on her cell phone, and breathed a sigh of relief when her call connected.

“Hi, Dad.” She summarized the situation, including how Gabe had rescued her and General.

“I’m glad you’re all right and that Gabe was riding by.” Relief filled his voice. “He’s a good man.”

Reese knew her father’s praise was sincere. The rivalry between him and August Dempsey was strictly over business and had nothing to do with character. In another lifetime, under different circumstances, the two might have been friends.

“I’ll tell him myself when I see him,” her father continued.

“No, Dad. You’ve had a long day.” She turned away from Gabe, who still sat astride the mare, and said in a low voice, “You need your rest. Send Enrico.”

“He’ll drive, but I’m damn well going with him.”

It was the best she could hope for. Her father was a stubborn old fool when he set his mind to something. Like not telling anyone about his Parkinson’s. How long could he realistically expect to keep hiding his disease? He was starting to show symptoms, and people were becoming suspicious. Like Enrico, who’d worked for the McGraws since before Reese had left.

“Fine.” What choice did she have, short of telling Enrico? And her father would never forgive her for that. He was a proud man. “See you when you get here.”

“Be careful, honey.”

Reese glanced at Gabe, then chided herself. Of course, her father was referring to General. She had nothing to worry about from Gabe, who was scrutinizing her every move with those compelling eyes of his.

She said goodbye and disconnected the call. Returning to the weary horse, she gave his neck a loving stroke.

Eying Gabe, she said, “You’d better hurry if you want to get home before dark.”

“I’ll wait until your ride gets here.”

“It could be a while.”

Truthfully, she had no idea how long her father and Enrico would be. She was simply providing Gabe with an excuse to leave.

“I have time.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “The house is filled with food.”

She could well imagine. As expected, friends and family had stopped by, dropping off casseroles, covered dishes and baked goods as they paid their respects. Food and funerals seemed to go together.

“Are you?” Gabe asked. “Hungry?”

“A little.” Between the service this morning, caring for her father and worrying about tomorrow’s reading of the will, she’d missed lunch.

Riding General hadn’t been solely to exercise the barn-bound horse. She’d needed a mental vacation in the worst way.

“Mostly I’m cold,” she added.

Gabe dismounted, unbuckled the saddlebag and reached inside. A moment later, he produced a yellow rain poncho and a small, rectangular object she couldn’t quite make out.

“Here.” He approached her, his stride confident and, she had to admit, sexy.

A small thrill wound through her. She blamed the stressful events of the day. It couldn’t possibly be attraction. To Gabe Dempsey? No way.

“Here.” He shook out the rain poncho, removed her hat and placed the poncho over her head.

“I don’t need—”

“Shut up, Reese.” He replaced her hat and fastened the top snap on the poncho, the one beneath her chin. “It’ll help keep you warm.”

The thrill turned into a flush as his fingers brushed her exposed skin. Who needed a poncho when Gabe’s proximity was enough to warm her from the inside?

“O...kay.” Please don’t let him notice the effect he was having on her.

“Here.” He lifted her hand and pressed the object he’d taken from the saddlebag into it. “Enjoy.”

She stared at the energy bar. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because...”

“You’re as stubborn as your father.” A smile touched his lips.

She thought it might be his first one in days or even weeks. Nothing could be worse than losing a loved one.

“I’ll eat this,” she said, “but only if we share.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss McGraw.”

He hadn’t seen anything yet. Just wait until they butted heads over his father’s estate.

Ripping open the wrapper, she removed the energy bar and broke it in half.

He accepted the piece, his fingers brushing hers. Was it intentional? She wouldn’t put it past him. Gabe had always been a ladies’ man, starting in high school. She was surprised he’d reached the age of thirty without some woman snapping him up.

Then again, no one had snapped up Reese, either, though she’d come close once. Perhaps Gabe was like her, married to his work.

They didn’t speak while they ate. Reese stared up the road. No sign of her father yet. When she was done with her half of the energy bar, she checked again on General, then returned to Gabe, pulling the poncho closer around her.

“Still cold?” Gabe asked.

“A little.”

“We could huddle for warmth.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

His smile returned. “I don’t bite, Reese.”

Sweet heaven, he was gorgeous. “I’m fine.” She was not letting Gabe touch her, much less hold her.

Headlights appeared in the distance, about a mile up the road. Reese released a long sigh. As assistant manager of Southern Arizona Bank, it was her job, her duty, to conduct herself professionally and impersonally with the Dempsey family. Huddling with Gabe, even for warmth in extreme weather conditions, wasn’t either of those things.

She waved as the truck and trailer neared. “Dad’s here. You don’t have to stay.”

“All right,” he said, his tone unreadable, and mounted the mare.

“What about your poncho?”

“Keep it.” Gabe tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “See you around.”

She watched him ride off into the darkness toward Dos Estrellas, barely noticing the truck rumble to a stop behind her.

He’d do more than see her around. Thanks to August Dempsey revising his will six months ago, Reese was about to become a fixture in the Dempsey brothers’ lives, and there was nothing they could do to change it.

Chapter Two

“If you’ll all please have a seat, we can get started.” Hector Fuentes made a sweeping gesture that included everyone in the spacious living room. He lowered himself onto the cowhide upholstered recliner where Gabe’s father had once dozed every afternoon while waiting for Raquel Salazar, Gabe’s mother, to finish putting supper on the table.

Better it was the family attorney occupying his father’s favorite chair than one of his half brothers, Gabe thought sourly.

Brothers. The word still sounded strange to him. Two full days in their company had made no difference. Neither had attending the funeral together yesterday or sharing coffee with them before spreading their father’s ashes in the flower garden this morning. Gabe didn’t know these men.

It was his mother’s idea they take the guest suite in the house rather than stay at the Wild Horse Bed and Breakfast in town. “They’re family,” she’d told Gabe. “Your father would have wanted it. And we have plenty of room.”

Gabe had seethed in silence instead of arguing. Did his mother have to be so nice to them? If they inherited the ranch, she’d be thrown out of her home.

After casting tentative glances at each other, the brothers in question sat in matching wingback chairs—which happened to be directly opposite Gabe, his mother and Cara Alvarez. Cara was the daughter of Raquel’s childhood friend Leena and had lived with Gabe’s family the past two years.

Consciously or subconsciously, Gabe, Raquel and Cara had made a united front on the couch.

No one else had been invited to the reading of the will, giving Gabe reason to believe those present were the only ones named as beneficiaries.

He swallowed, but the knot of pain residing above his heart didn’t loosen. Those two men shouldn’t be here. His father had promised Gabe the ranch. Many times over.

What had changed August Dempsey’s mind at the eleventh hour? Was the cancer to blame? Had all the medications and treatments ravaged his body and mind? Or had he lied to Gabe and intended to give the ranch to his legitimate sons all along, leaving Gabe with nothing?

Using his briefcase as a lap desk, Hector Fuentes cleared his throat and tapped a thin stack of papers into a perfect rectangle. “If it’s all right with everyone, I’ll skip the standard legalese and get right to the bequests. I’ve brought copies of the entire will for everyone and will distribute them later to those who want one.”

Gabe wanted a copy. He’d bet his brothers would, too.

Hector smiled at Cara before beginning. “To Cara Alvarez, who has been like a daughter to Raquel and myself, I grant exclusive use of five hundred acres of Dos Estrellas pasture land, to include parcels six, seven and eight, for her mustang sanctuary.”

Cara’s hand flew to her mouth, and she inhaled sharply. The sanctuary and its horses meant a great deal to her. For his father to include her in his will showed how much he’d considered her to be part of the family.

His mother bit back a sob and placed an arm around Cara’s shoulders.

“Cara is to have use of the parcels for as long as she wants,” Hector continued, “or for as long as Dos Estrellas remains in the family.”

Remains in the family. The words gave Gabe hope. His father wouldn’t have allowed Cara exclusive use of nearly one-sixth of the ranch and not bequeath Gabe the entirety of it. Nothing else made sense.

Hector continued, outlining the specifics. “Do you have any questions?” he asked Cara when he was done.

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

“Raquel, the love of my life, and Cara both,” Hector said, “will continue to reside at Dos Estrellas and occupy the ranch house for as long as they choose or for as long as the ranch remains in the family.”

Again, Cara inhaled sharply and his mother softly sobbed. Gabe, on the other hand, began to worry. What was with the wording, as long as the ranch remains in the family? Twice his father had used it. There must be some significance.

“Any questions?” Hector repeated when he’d finished with the specifics.

“No,” Gabe’s mother and Cara replied simultaneously.

Hector then listed smaller bequests. Gabe’s mother was to receive ownership of August’s favorite dog. She, along with Gabe and a close cousin, were to get his jewelry, personal items and cherished mementos.

Gabe studied his brothers’ faces during the reading. He wouldn’t recognize either of them as being related to him or their father. Other than the fact they all three stood over six feet tall, there were no noticeable physical similarities. With their blond hair and blue eyes, Josh, the oldest brother, and Cole must resemble their mother.

Neither did they look like the boys he remembered from his childhood. Gabe had been in first grade, Josh second and Cole in kindergarten when an older child on the playground had pointed to the brothers and told Gabe in a taunting voice that they were his father’s real sons. The boy had then called Gabe’s mother a name he hadn’t understood at the time, but instinctively knew was the worst of insults.

Angry and hurt and experiencing feelings he couldn’t explain, much less process, Gabe had passed the rest of the day in a blur. Arriving home after school, he’d gone straight from the bus to his mother and told her about what the boy had said, omitting the bad name.

She’d hugged him, smoothed his hair and insisted he forget about it. Gabe might have, except the same thing happened two days later. Instead of retaliating against the boy, Gabe went after Josh, who was both older and bigger than him. The attack, poorly executed, nonetheless cost him three days’ suspension from school for fighting.

His mother had been furious with him. She’d also been saddened. It was the first Gabe had learned that his father, who visited once or twice a week in the evenings, had a wife and children living on a ranch outside of Mustang Valley. It took Gabe several years to fully understand his family’s unusual dynamics, long after he and his mother had moved to Dos Estrellas.

Did Josh remember the school tussle? Did he know it was Gabe who had hit him and what had made him so angry? Probably not. At least, his face gave no indication.

“Last, is my beloved Dos Estrellas Ranch, which has been in the Dempsey family for three generations.”

Hector’s voice jarred Gabe from his thoughts. Every muscle in his body tightened. He willed himself not to look at his brothers, but at Hector instead. They would not see how important this moment was to him, or his devastation if the rumors turned out to be true and Gabe lost the ranch.

Beside him, his mother shifted and murmured under her breath. Cara grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“I leave the ranch equally to my three sons, Josh, Cole and Gabe.”

Pain sliced through Gabe, leaving him numb. He hadn’t inherited the ranch. Worse, his father had named him third after his two legitimate sons, whom he hadn’t seen in twenty-four years.

Betrayal. It was the emotion Gabe hadn’t been able to define when he was six. It was also the emotion that gripped him now, fresh as the day on the playground with Josh.

“See, I told you, mijo,” his mother said in a whisper, “your father did not forget you.”

Not forget him? He might as well have. Gabe was supposed to share ownership of Dos Estrellas? With them?

“He promised to leave the ranch to Gabe,” Cara hissed.

“Hush,” his mother ordered.

“It’s not fair.” Cara’s voice rose, loud enough to draw the stares of everyone in the room. “Gabe’s worked the land. He knows the cattle business and how the ranch is run.” She gestured to Josh and Cole. “They don’t have the first clue. They’re rodeo competitors, for crying out loud.”

“We can hear you,” Josh said.

Cole grunted and stared angrily out the large bay window.

Gabe fumed. What was the guy’s problem? He had nothing to be angry about.

“If we could please continue,” Hector scolded in an attempt to bring the reading back under control.

Cara didn’t apologize. She didn’t say anything, merely folded her arms across her middle.

With a warning nod in her direction, Hector carried on, reading August’s words. “My good attorney has advised me to cover the many details on a separate page. I’ve done that, merely to satisfy him, mind you.” A hint of amusement flashed in Hector’s eyes. “But, in a nutshell, Dos Estrellas can’t be sold in its entirety unless all three of my sons are in agreement. And while individual shares can be sold, it is my fervent wish my beloved ranch remains in the family for many future generations, and the grandchildren I didn’t live long enough to see will grow up here, fine, strong and healthy like my own boys.”

Gabe almost choked. Was his father serious? The two men sitting across from him hadn’t grown up at the ranch. As children they’d moved six hundred miles away to Northern California and never once come back, ignoring the requests to visit their dying father and say goodbye.

He half listened to the rest of the reading. Violet Hathaway, the ranch’s livestock manager, along with the Dempsey housekeeper of twenty-plus years, were to retain their jobs. Lastly, there was a mention of selling shares to one another and how the profits were to be distributed.

Profits, right. What a joke. There weren’t any, and hadn’t been since August had become ill.

“Questions?” Hector asked, sounding a lot like a parrot.

Gabe shook his head. He would read his copy of the will later, when he was less agitated and better able to focus, though it wouldn’t make much difference.

The empty hole inside him ached. He’d admired, respected and loved his father with boundless devotion. Now he feared he might have been wrong. Whether his father had realized it or not, he’d forced Gabe into partnership with his brothers and, by the looks on their faces, they were as unhappy about the outcome as Gabe.

“Are we done?” Cole asked, his tone sharp.

“Not quite.” Hector set his briefcase on the floor by his feet. “There’s the matter of the trustee.”

“Trustee?” Gabe’s mother leaned forward. “What is a trustee?”

“The Dos Estrellas and August’s other property are actually held in the trust he established. As with all trusts, a person or entity is designated to oversee the trust and carry out the terms of the will according to the decedent’s wishes. Typically, the trustee makes the distributions, and, in this case, will oversee the management of the estate per August’s instructions.”

“Dad hired a manager?” Gabe couldn’t believe his ears.

“Not exactly. You and your brothers will run the ranch. But’s the trustee’s job to make sure you’re running it according to the terms of your father’s will. For instance, your mother and Cara continue to live here as long as they choose and Cara’s mustang sanctuary is protected.”

That sounded reasonable, Gabe supposed.

“You should know your father gave the trustee full financial powers until the ranch operates in the black for at least one full year, and all his medical bills are paid off. The trustee’s duties will end only then or if the ranch is sold.”

“I don’t understand,” Josh said.

“Essentially, while you and your brothers run the ranch, the trustee will be pulling the purse strings.”

If Gabe wasn’t already in a state of shock, this latest bombshell would have knocked him to his knees. His father had preferred for someone outside the family handle the ranch’s finances over his son? His sons?

“Who’s the trustee?” Gabe asked.

Hector waited a beat before responding. “The Southern Arizona Bank.”

Mustang Valley’s sole financial institution. Gabe was familiar with them, like everyone else in the community.

“Why?”

“A trustee is supposed to abide by the terms of the will.” Hector shrugged. “Unfortunately, they don’t always. It can happen when family members are put in charge. Emotions run high. As a result, some individuals choose an entity, such as a bank, or an attorney, to act as trustee. They tend to adhere more strictly to the terms of the will and keep emotions out of it.”

Perhaps Gabe’s father had the foresight to realize forcing his three sons into an unwanted partnership would guarantee high-running emotions.

The front doorbell rang, startling several of the room’s occupants. Not Hector. He made his way to the large, ornately carved wooden door.

“Who could that be?” Gabe’s mother moved as if to rise. “I specifically requested no visitors this afternoon.”

“It’s all right,” Hector said. “I arranged for the representative from the bank to be here today in order to meet you all and put your fears to rest.”

He opened the heavy door. It swung wide, revealing a feminine silhouette cast in dark shadows from the sun’s slanting rays.

“Am I early?” the woman asked.

“Not at all, come in,” he said. “We’re ready for you.”

Gabe blinked as the representative stepped across the threshold, convinced he was seeing things. It couldn’t be. This had to be a mistake. Or someone’s idea of a sick joke. He wasn’t sure if he should shout in protest or laugh out loud.

Hector took the young, professionally dressed woman by the arm and led her to the center of the room as if she were on display.

“For those of you who haven’t met her before, this is Reese McGraw, assistant manager at Southern Arizona Bank and the trustee of August Dempsey’s estate.”

* * *

“THANK YOU.” REESE accepted the cup of coffee Raquel Salazar offered and smiled in appreciation. Other than the attorney Hector Fuentes, Gabe’s mother was the only one to show Reese any friendliness so far.

It was to be expected. Even under normal circumstances, no one in the Dempsey or Salazar families would be pleased to welcome her, the daughter of Theo McGraw. To learn she was the employee at Southern Arizona Bank in charge of overseeing August Dempsey’s estate, well, it must be a shock.

Gabe’s features hardened each time he glanced at her, which was often. If he was trying to scare her off, it wouldn’t work. Reese was here to stay.

It was, she mused, a far cry from the way he’d looked at her yesterday while waiting for her father and Enrico to arrive with the truck and trailer. When he’d buttoned her into the rain poncho, she swore the heat of attraction had flared in his eyes. Not to mention his touch lingered far longer than necessary.

The poncho had kept her warm, all right. That, and the effects of his proximity.

Reese silently scolded herself, alarmed by the direction of her thoughts. She’d known Gabe most of her life, but not once entertained any romantic notions about him. What had changed since their last conversation twelve years ago? Was it her or him?

“You are welcome,” Raquel said in her lilting Hispanic accent. “How is your father doing? He looked a little pale yesterday at the service.”

Reese gave a small start. Raquel had noticed her father’s appearance? Surely, she’d had much, much more on her mind at the funeral than Theo McGraw. Reese swallowed. Soon, her father’s symptoms would become increasingly apparent. Hiding his Parkinson’s would be impossible.

Good. His constant care, and the tremendous burden that came with it, were taking a toll on her, physically and emotionally. He needed help managing his symptoms beyond her limited abilities. Yet he refused to hire an experienced health care professional, convinced people in Mustang Valley would view him differently. Think less of him.

She wished he could see how wrong he was. The same people he feared would pity him had rallied to comfort the family and offer support during August Dempsey’s long illness. They would do the same for her father.

She blamed the damnable McGraw pride, which her father possessed in abundance. She, too, perhaps. Hadn’t she left town shortly after realizing she was pregnant with Blake Nolan’s baby, convinced people would talk behind her and her father’s backs?

“He was tired,” she explained to Raquel. “His arthritis has been keeping him awake at night.”

Her hostess sighed expansively. “I understand. I have my own complaints. Give him my regards, will you?”

“Of course.”

She patted Reese’s arm before gliding away.

Reese admired Gabe’s mother. While the sadness in Raquel’s eyes showed evidence of her grief and sorrow, she remained strong and stalwart. Perhaps, in a way, she was relieved at his passing. August had been in considerable pain at the end, and no one wanted to see their loved one needlessly suffer.

Funny they’d never married. August and his wife divorced twenty-plus years ago. Reese was curious. Reading the entirety of his will hadn’t provided any insight.

Sipping her coffee, she made her way to Cara Alvarez, who, by her estimation, was the one person with the least reason to dislike her. They had once been school friends, after all. Before the feud between August and Reese’s father severed their budding friendship.