Her Holiday Rancher

“Hey, how you doing?”

Cara glanced up from the spot on the floor she’d been staring at. “All right.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

With her luxurious black hair and striking beauty, Cara might have been related to Raquel and not just the daughter she never had. One prominent difference was their eyes. While Raquel’s sparked with a wide array of emotions, Cara’s alternated between listlessness and despair. They had been that way since the tragic death of her toddler son two years ago.

“I hear you’re doing great things with the mustang sanctuary,” Reese said.

“I don’t know about great.” Cara shifted and resumed staring, this time out the window.

Was she remembering her son’s funeral?

Reese decided her former schoolmate wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “If there’s anything you need, feel free to call me or come by the bank.”

“Okay.”

She touched Cara’s arm before crossing the room. Feeling a prickling on the back of her neck, she turned and found Gabe staring at her from a far corner of the room. He stood by himself. No surprise, anger radiated off him in waves.

Reese squared her shoulders, refusing to wilt beneath the visual assault. She was at the ranch in an official capacity. Gabe and his family may not like the fact she was the trustee, but there was nothing they could do about it. August Dempsey’s last wishes would be honored.

Lifting her coffee cup in acknowledgment, she nodded at Gabe. He responded with raised brows and a look of surprise. How about that? She’d bested him. Surely it was a first.

Pleased with herself, she continued her casual stroll of the room. Hector was currently immersed in conversation with Raquel. From what Reese could discern, he was answering the questions she’d have gladly done if asked.

She’d certainly chosen a rough road to travel, though she wouldn’t have refused the assignment. Losing her credibility at the bank, and possibly her position, weren’t options. She needed a job with decent income and one that enabled her to be close to her father. Assistant manager of Southern Arizona Bank fit the bill perfectly.

Besides, she liked her job. And, if she said so herself, she was good at it.

Finishing her coffee, she started for the kitchen, planning to dispose of her cup in the sink. At the large archway separating the dining room from the kitchen, she paused. The strains of what was clearly a private conversation reached her ears from the other side of the archway and around the corner. It was between Josh Dempsey and his brother Cole.

“What am I going to do with one-third of the ranch?” Cole demanded irritably. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything that belonged to him.”

“Let’s get our copy of the will and read through it,” Josh suggested. “The terms may not be ironclad.”

“You heard what the attorney said.”

Cole had understood correctly. The will was ironclad. August had been thorough, perhaps anticipating a conflict.

“Maybe we can contest it.”

“And where are we going to find the money for that?” Cole scoffed. “Getting custody of your kids drained your bank account.”

Reese recalled reading the background information Hector had provided on the Dempsey brothers. According to the report, Josh was locked in a bitter legal battle with his ex-wife over custody of their two young children.

“Take it easy, Cole. My financial problems aren’t what’s making you mad.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to be here, and I’m sorry we came.”

“Give it another day or two. We’ll figure out a way to get your money.”

“Our money, you mean. Don’t forget, brother, you want your share as badly as I want mine. Attorneys aren’t cheap.”

Reese retreated, concerned by what she’d heard. Growing up in Mustang Valley, she knew about August’s first family and that there was no love lost between him and his sons. But he must have wanted to make amends. Why else would he have modified his will six months ago? Obviously, his two sons didn’t appreciate the gesture.

Should she tell Gabe? Was it her place? No, probably not. But nothing stopped her from dropping a hint or two about his brothers’ intentions.

He hadn’t left the corner. Seeing his hard expression, Reese had second thoughts. Perhaps she should speak to Hector instead. Though what could he do? The same as her, alert Gabe, who’d likely be more receptive to the family attorney than her.

She wavered, still debating and well aware she was drawing attention to herself. A moment later, she headed straight for Gabe.

He didn’t so much as blink at her approach. The guy had nerves of steel.

“I wanted to thank you again for helping me yesterday,” she said.

“How’s the horse?”

“Fine. A bit sore, but otherwise unharmed. The vet prescribed pain relievers, an anti-inflammatory and a week’s rest.” She mentioned the vet’s visit strictly to let Gabe know she wasn’t lax when it came to the well-being of the McGraw horses.

“You were lucky.”

“I was.” She hoped he noted the sincerity she was trying to convey. “I can’t imagine what I would have done if you hadn’t come riding by.”

“Gone for help,” he said matter-of-factly.

“And might not have made it back in time to save General.”

“I disagree. You’re a resourceful woman, Reese.”

“How would you know? We’re not exactly friends.”

Except he’d witnessed one of the worst moments in her life and had treated her secret like it was his own, telling no one. Did that give them some sort of bond?

“It shows.” He angled his head in a way managing to be both confident and boyishly charming.

“I’m not that capable.”

“No? You’re the trustee of my father’s estate. If you ask me, that’s pretty resourceful.”

Ah. There they were. The knives. And here she’d assumed they might have a normal conversation. “Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with your father’s decision.”

“Other than you returned to Mustang Valley and took a job at the bank a few weeks before he revised his will.”

She stiffened. “A coincidence.”

“Right.”

“I can count on one hand the number of times I spoke to your father. The last was when he came into the bank and met with Walt, the manager. For the record, I wasn’t in the meeting.”

“Yet you were named as trustee.”

“The bank was. I’m performing the duties because I’m assistant manager.” Not entirely true, but Reese wasn’t ready to reveal any private agreements between August and the bank.

“Does your father know?”

Reese stood straighter. “He doesn’t.”

“But he will soon enough.”

“Gabe, I didn’t strike up a conversation with you to bicker.”

“Then why?”

There it was again, that flash of heat in his eyes. Darn him and darn her susceptibility.

“How well do you know your brothers?”

Her question elicited a sharp laugh.

“Have you had a chance to talk with them these last few days?”

“I’ve had the chance. Not the inclination.” He studied her intently.

Reese resisted his close scrutiny. “I sense an animosity from them.”

“No kidding.” Gabe’s tone rang with sarcasm.

“I’m serious. Josh and Cole appear to be...unhappy with the terms of the will.”

“They aren’t alone.”

“I think Cole is only after money.”

“What are you after?”

This wasn’t going how Reese had hoped. She considered a different approach when Gabe’s glance suddenly cut to the left.

“Quiet,” he murmured and visibly tensed.

Reese peered over her shoulder. Josh and Cole weren’t three feet away. Both wore suspicious expressions. How much, if anything, had they heard?

Gathering her wits, she said, “There you are. I was telling Gabe, the four of us need to schedule a meeting to review the financial records and discuss your father’s plan for the ranch.”

“We were about to suggest the same thing.” Josh looked to his brother. “We have some questions.”

“What kind of questions?” Gabe demanded, his jaw tightening.

Placing herself between the three men, Reese plastered a smile on her face. “How’s tomorrow afternoon at the ranch? Say, two o’clock?”

Chapter Three

Gabe watched Reese bid goodbye to his mother and Hector, fetch her coat and purse from the back of a dining room chair and leave by the front door.

A moment later, when no one was looking, he followed her, catching up as she reached her parked car in the driveway.

“Reese.”

She stopped and turned, her car key clutched in her fingers. “Oh, did I forget something?”

“You by chance have a second?”

“Sure.”

She looked anything but sure. A second later, she popped the locks on her Honda sedan. Opening the car door, she deposited her purse on the passenger seat, then waited.

“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were the trustee?” he asked.

She crossed her arms over her middle. “My instructions were not to tell anyone before the reading of the will.”

“I helped you rescue your horse.”

“Doesn’t work that way, Gabe.”

He shifted, the chilly November air penetrating his dress shirt. Why hadn’t he grabbed his suit jacket before coming outside?

“Isn’t there a conflict of interest?”

“Rest assured, I’m completely unbiased when it comes to my job, and completely professional.”

“Your father has been after Dos Estrellas for years. Twice he tried to buy it when Dad fell behind on the property taxes. And he made an offer earlier this year. Dad was going through chemo. Nothing like kicking a man when he’s down.”

“What are you implying?”

“Can you be relied on not to use your position to advance your father’s ambitions?”

She pivoted on her high heels. It was a miracle she didn’t lose her balance and face-plant in the driveway. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

Gabe took hold of her elbow. They both stilled. “It’s a fair question.”

“I have never used my job to advance my father’s ambitions or my own. Nor would I. You asking such a thing is insulting.”

“Look at me, Reese.” He waited until did. “I’m protecting my family.”

She sagged, some of the fight going out of her. “You’re angry—about the terms of the will and your brothers inheriting two-thirds of the ranch. You were also taken aback learning I’m the trustee. For those reasons, I’ll pretend you didn’t just question my ethics.”

“Our fathers didn’t get along.”

“I disagree. They actually liked and admired each other greatly. My father has always spoken very highly of yours.”

“They were business rivals. And your father was considerably more successful than mine.”

“Your father had two families to support. I’m an only child, and my mother left when I was eight. It makes a difference.”

Her parents’ divorce was another similarity they shared. While Gabe’s father had taken a mistress, Reese’s mother had abandoned her family, running away with her lover, who was, at the time, the Small Change’s tax accountant.

“And your father came from money,” Gabe said.

“Which gave him all the more reason to admire yours. August Dempsey made something of himself from humble beginnings.”

Gabe didn’t voice what was on his mind, that, in the end, his father had lost much of what he’d built. The family would be paying off his medical bills for years. Which meant Reese would be the trustee of his father’s estate for a long, long time.

“Can we not argue about this?” She glanced down at her arm, which Gabe still held.

He let his hand drop and instantly missed the intimate contact. He’d felt warmth beneath the fabric of her jacket. And soft, supple flesh. It had stirred his senses.

“Does your boss know about the feud between our families?”

“Of course he does.”

“And he doesn’t care?”

“First of all, I’m the one who told Walt. I thought it would be best he hear it from me. Secondly, as I said earlier, I’m required by my position with the bank to be honest and fair. Also, every detail of my work will be scrutinized by the board.” She squared her shoulders. “Should even one small detail come under question, my job could be at stake. I won’t risk it.”

“You don’t need to work. Your father’s well-off.”

Reese inhaled sharply. “You’re hardly an expert on my personal life.”

Gabe could have kicked himself. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

“Fine. Apology accepted.” She reached for the open car door. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Would I also be out of line if I requested someone else at the bank be appointed as trustee? Surely, you aren’t the only person qualified.”

He expected her to be mad. She fooled him again by dismissing his question with an indifferent shrug. “You can ask. The answer will be no.”

“Why?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Sounds like a convenient excuse.”

“It isn’t.”

Again, she’d barely reacted. Gabe found that interesting. Reese was either incredibly confident or she knew something she wasn’t telling.

Her cell phone chimed from her jacket pocket. Extracting the phone, she glanced at the display and promptly answered with an anxious, “Yes, Enrico.” After a pause, she said, “I’ll be right there,” and disconnected. “I have to go,” she told Gabe.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. No.” She fumbled with the phone before returning it to her pocket. “My father fell from the porch steps.”

“Is he hurt?”

“Banged his knee. He may need to see the doctor.”

For a banged knee? Gabe thought Reese might be overreacting. Theo McGraw was tough as nails and wouldn’t be bothered by a little tumble off the porch steps. “Call me if you need anything.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Really? After raking me over the coals, you’re offering to be the good neighbor?”

“I, um...”

He’d started to say he was concerned for her, then changed his mind at the last second. He didn’t give a damn about Reese McGraw.

Except, that wasn’t true. He did feel something for her. Compassion and sympathy, at least. Why else would he have kept her secret all these years?

If not for their fathers’ rivalry, their relationship might have taken a different path. They had been classmates and neighbors. Dating in high school wouldn’t have been far-fetched.

Anything transpiring between them now, however, was out of the question, and Gabe was wise to maintain a safe distance.

The problem was he wanted to take her in his arms, give her a hug and tell her not to worry. Her father was going to be fine.

“I don’t hate you, Reese. And I don’t wish your father ill. If he needs help, or you, call me.”

“Thank you.” She slid onto the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “I’ll see you tomorrow at two.”

Aware he was crossing an invisible line, Gabe covered one of her white-knuckled hands with his. She was obviously worried about her father. “Drive careful. It’s getting dark.”

For a moment, they remained where they were. If Gabe didn’t know better, he’d think a part of her wanted to stay. But that was ridiculous.

Whatever spell they’d fallen under ended, and she started the engine. Gabe watched her depart, thinking he should return to the house. Why, then, didn’t he? At the end of the long road leading from the ranch house to the main road, Reese’s brake lights illuminated. She turned left, in the direction of the Small Change.

He might have spent more time contemplating why her father’s seemingly minor fall prompted her to leave in such a hurry except he was interrupted by the last person he wanted to see. His brother Josh.

Dammit. What did the man want now? The shirt off Gabe’s back?

“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Gabe ground his teeth together. His brother’s timing was impeccable. Or, perhaps, intentional. He could have spotted Gabe and Reese from the living room window.

“You didn’t.” Gabe pushed past him. Whatever Josh wanted, he wasn’t interested.

“Got a minute?”

Gabe halted and cursed under his breath. “For what?”

They’d hardly spoken these past few days despite living in close quarters. Gabe had no intention of changing the status quo.

“You and her,” Josh hitched his chin in the direction Reese had driven in her car, “are you friends?”

Gabe’s hackles rose. His relationship with Reese was no one’s business. Especially Josh’s.

“We’re neighbors.”

“I know. I lived here once.”

He couldn’t help thinking the reference to Josh residing at the ranch before Gabe came to live there was intentional.

“What I’m asking is, are you close?”

He stared his brother down.

Josh held his own. “It’s a reasonable question. She’s going to control the ranch’s finances. If you and Reese are involved, there could be a conflict of interest.”

Five minutes ago, Gabe had been asking Reese the same question. Now he defended her.

“She’s a professional. She won’t do anything to jeopardize her position at the bank.”

“But you’re friends.”

“I’m not discussing her with you.” Gabe once again started for the house and once again, Josh halted him with his words.

“I don’t like this any better than you.”

“We have nothing in common.”

“Other than our father and this ranch and the fact we have to work together. Or agree to sell.”

That rankled Gabe. “I’m not selling.”

“Think about it before you decide. Dad left us with a lot of bills to pay and little means at our disposal. Selling would get us out of debt and free us to move on.”

“There’s no we as far as I’m concerned. Our father promised me the ranch. Not you and your brother.”

Josh inhaled deeply as if to control his temper. “Cole and I have every right to inherit a share of Dos Estrellas.”

“Because why? We happen to share the same blood?” Gabe snorted in disgust. “You haven’t set foot on this place for twenty-four years.”

“He cheated on my mother.”

Josh had targeted Gabe’s one weak spot, and the blow inflicted the desired damage.

He knew with all his heart his father had loved his mother deeply. That didn’t make it right for him to disregard his marriage vows. Gabe’s mother had raised him to be honorable. It was hard for him to accept the fact his father hadn’t divorced his wife before becoming involved with Gabe’s mother.

He’d asked once when he was twelve. His mother’s face had immediately hardened, and she told him to never, ever bring up the subject again or she’d tan his hide. It was a private matter between her and his father.

In his early twenties, Gabe approached his father and got no further with him. The reason his father gave for not marrying his mother—that Gabe’s maternal grandfather was very traditional and didn’t approve—smacked of an excuse. When Gabe pressed, his father had stormed from the room. Only the love and devotion he felt for both his parents kept him from resenting them.

“We’re done talking.” Gabe strode ahead without looking back.

Good manners dictated he should return to the house and tell Hector goodbye. The attorney had been his father’s closest confidant. But, like yesterday, Gabe needed an outlet to vent his frustration.

It was too late and too dark for a ride in the nearby mountains. Not too late to clean out the tack room, he decided. Nothing beat tossing a few crates and harnesses around to burn off steam. Dress shirt be damned.

“I remember,” Josh called after him. “It was you who punched me in the nose at school. You had a pretty good right hook for a kid.”

Gabe didn’t miss a step, though it was the first thing his brother had said that made him smile.

* * *

REESE OPENED THE jewelry box on her bedroom dresser, lifted out the top tray and removed a tiny framed picture hidden beneath. It was a ritual. Every year on this day, Celia’s birthday, Reese studied the picture of her newborn daughter, let the memories of her birth warm her heart and then placed a phone call.

Today, Reese came home from the bank during her lunch hour in order to call Celia, but also to check on her father. His tumble off the porch yesterday could have been worse. Luckily, he hadn’t fallen far, but he had landed hard and badly bruised his knee. Loss of balance was a common side effect of Parkinson’s. As was stooped posture. Her father looked ten years older than he had mere months ago. She’d also noticed a slight tremor in his right hand and a quiver in his voice. Each new symptom increased her despair.

Feeling the weight of the little silver frame in her hand, Reese stared at Celia’s infant face and was reminded of why she’d excused herself after lunching with her father and retreated to her bedroom. How could she not be thinking of her daughter on this special day? The problem with Parkinson’s was it consumed the thoughts of the person afflicted with it, along with their family members.

While Celia’s parents made no secret of her adoption, they and Celia were the only ones who knew Reese was her birth mother. Shortly after her high school graduation, Reese had moved to Oregon to live with her older cousin Megan on the pretense of taking a year off before college. There, she’d given birth to Celia, who was then adopted by Megan and her husband.

They adored Celia. They also encouraged her to have a relationship with Reese, for which Reese felt grateful and blessed.

Ever since Celia could talk, Reese called her on a prearranged day once a month. Three times over the years, she’d flown to Oregon for a visit. In her closet, Reese kept a small trunk filled with letters from Celia, drawings, cards, photographs and, lately, school papers. Her computer contained numerous picture files organized by age.

Someday, when they were both ready, Celia would come to Mustang Valley for a visit and to meet her grandfather. Reese hoped it was soon, before the Parkinson’s advanced to the point her father couldn’t function or communicate.

“Hi, sweet pea,” Reese said when Celia answered the phone. “Happy eleventh birthday.”

“Reese! You called.”

“Of course.” Reese bit back a sob. Her emotions were getting the best of her today. “It sounds like you have a cold.”

“We were supposed to go out for pizza tonight.” Celia snuffled. “Now we have to wait for the weekend.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I got your present. Thank you. The boots are exactly the ones I wanted.”

They talked for twenty minutes until Reese had to say goodbye. The meeting at Dos Estrellas was scheduled for two, and she wanted to check on her father one last time before leaving.

“I hope you feel better soon,” she said.

“Me, too. But I get to miss school, so that part’s good.”

Reese enjoyed their easy banter. “Send me pictures of the pizza party.”

“I will. Goodbye, Reese.”

“Goodbye, sweet pea.” Reese disconnected before softly saying, “I love you.” She and Celia weren’t quite close enough for her to speak the words. Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day. She refused to push.

In the kitchen, she found her father sitting at the table, having his customary afternoon coffee.

“I thought the doctor said caffeine was bad for you,” she scolded.

“Would you rather I have a whiskey?”

“Dad!”

“I’ve given up everything worthwhile. You’re not taking away my coffee.”

“Fine.” She patted his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. “I won’t tattle on you.”

“Your Aunt Louise sent me an email earlier. She wants to come for a visit at Christmas.”

“Great!” Reese’s mood brightened. She adored her father’s younger sister, who’d been like a second mother to her after her parents divorced. “How long’s she going to stay?”

“I told her no. That we were busy.”

“What!” Reese dropped into the chair across from her father and gaped at him.

“It’s not a good time.”

“You can’t hide your Parkinson’s forever.”