Her Man On Three Rivers Ranch

She broke off another piece of the brownie and popped it into her mouth. Not because she was hungry, but because it tasted good and something about Blake was making her so restless she needed to do something with her hands. She only wished she could make her eyes find a different object to stare at. Just looking at his rugged face reminded her that she was a woman. One who hadn’t been touched by a man in a long, long time.

“I think most of the single ladies in town think of him as a man on the prowl. I mostly remember him playing football in high school. And your brother Chandler played baseball. They were both good athletes.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen Chandler’s animal hospital on the edge of town. He’s pretty much tied to his practice and seeing after the animal health on Three Rivers. As for Holt, he manages the horse division. Even though I joke about him being a rounder, he has more knowledge in his little finger about horseflesh than I’ll ever know in a lifetime.” He paused, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I’ve said enough about my family. What about your brother, Aaron? What is he doing now?”

“He went into law enforcement. He works as a deputy for Inyo County in California.”

“The Death Valley area. He must be tough. Is he married?”

Katherine tried not to grimace. “No. He doesn’t think he’s cut out to be a family man. And frankly, I think he’s right. He has a cynical attitude about...well, love and family. I don’t think any woman could put up with him for long.”

“Ouch. Sounds like the two of you aren’t exactly close.”

“Oh, we talk occasionally. And we care about each other. At least, I care about him. But we have different ideas about things, that’s all. I tried to get him to come to Wickenburg before Dad died, but he never would. That hurt. A lot.”

He studied her closely. “And your mother? She doesn’t want to come back?”

Katherine shook her head. “She likes the Southern California climate and being close to her sister. And she says there are too many bad memories for her here.”

Before she realized Blake’s intention, he suddenly reached across the table and covered her hand with his. The physical contact practically took her breath away, but the jolt of his touch couldn’t compare to his next words.

“I’m glad you don’t feel that way, Katherine. It’s nice to have you back home.”

Home. Was she really home? Since Cliff’s death, and more recently her father’s, Katherine had begun to wonder if she would ever know the true feeling of home again.

A hard lump suddenly lodged in her throat and she tried to swallow it away before she spoke. “Thank you, Blake. When I came back—to help Dad—I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. To say the least, our relationship had been strained. But now...well, long before he died, we made peace with each other. And that’s the most important thing. Don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.”

Lifting her gaze to his, she gave him a grateful smile. “Coming from you, Blake, that means a lot.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he continued to study her face as his thumb slowly stroked the back of her hand. The touch ignited a spark somewhere deep inside her and shot a wave of uncomfortable heat straight to her cheeks. Inside her head, a voice was commanding her to ease her hand away from his and run down the street as fast as her high heels would carry her. Yet she couldn’t seem to make herself move, or even speak.

“Katherine, I—”

The sound of his low voice snapped her paralysis and she managed to ease her hand from his hold and reach for her purse.

Before he could stop her, she rose to her feet. “Thank you for the coffee, Blake, but I really must be running. I have to be back at work by ten.”

He glanced at his watch, then got to his feet. “When we get back to my truck, I’ll drive you.”

“No need for that. My car is parked in the parking lot at Yavapai Bank and Trust. I was about to go in to do some banking business when we crashed into each other,” she explained.

“Okay,” he told her. “I’ll clear the table and then we’ll walk back.”

After tossing their coffee cups and scraps of uneaten brownies into a nearby trash bin, he reached for her arm and guided her back onto the quiet sidewalk.

“So where do you work, Katherine?”

Although the touch of his hand on her arm was featherlight, it was enough to send electrical shocks up and down her arm. No matter what man was at her side, the odd reaction would have been troubling. But this was Blake Hollister. The eldest son of the prominent ranching dynasty. The man who made sure Three Rivers Ranch remained a cattle kingdom in Southern Arizona. The only thing he could ever be to Katherine was a friendly acquaintance.

“I’m a secretary to the superintendent at St. Francis Academy. A private school over on South Saguaro.”

“You said earlier that you liked your job. Have you been there long?”

Had he always been this tall and dark? This strong and broad-shouldered? Everything about him seemed magnified ten times over since she’d last seen him. But then a man could change greatly in a matter of a few years, she thought. Her late husband was proof of that.

She answered, “Almost three years. I went to work there shortly after I returned to Wickenburg. Juggling my job and caring for my dad wasn’t easy, but I managed.”

“School will be out soon,” he remarked. “Will you have to work during the summer?”

“Only for half of each workday. I’m looking forward to having the extra time to do things with Nick. He wants to go camping.”

“Most little boys do. My brothers and I used to put up a tent out behind the cattle barn and pretend we were miles away on some lonesome mesa. That way we had to worry and watch for coyotes and mountain lions. Sometimes that was hard to do, though, when a pen of weanling calves was bawling right next to us.”

Katherine chuckled. “No doubt it was still an adventure for you. I’m not sure Nick is ready to sleep out in the backyard on his own, though.”

His smile knowing, he glanced at her. “I have an idea it’s more like his mother isn’t ready for Nick to sleep outdoors.”

She sighed. “I confess. I have sheltered him somewhat,” she admitted. “It would be different if he had siblings. But that never happened.”

Katherine had no idea why she’d added that last bit of information. Blake wasn’t interested in her past family life. He was simply carrying on a polite conversation. He didn’t care that all of her hopes and dreams for a big family had vanished as Cliff had turned away from her and buried himself in his job.

“Well, at least you have one child,” he said. “That’s more than I have.”

She started to ask him if he still hoped to have a family someday, but a quick glance ahead told her they’d reached the bank building. Which was probably a good thing. She didn’t need to know about Blake’s wants or wishes. It was none of her business whether he had a special woman in his life now, or even if he was looking to find one. Money in the bank and a closet full of fine clothes didn’t change the fact that her maiden name was Anderson.

“Here we are,” she said in an overly bright voice. “Thanks again for the coffee, Blake. And please tell your family hello for me. Especially your gracious mother.”

He released his hold on her arm, but instead of stepping away, he reached for her hand and lifted it to the middle of his chest. “I’d really like it, Katherine, if you’d come out and have dinner with me at Three Rivers.”

Was he serious? Her gaze roamed his face as she tried to figure out the motive behind his invitation. Was he simply being polite? She couldn’t think of any other reason.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose on your family.”

He frowned. “Don’t be silly. They’d all be glad to see you. But if you’d rather, we could go somewhere else for dinner.”

Totally bemused now, she looked around her, then back at him. “Are you asking me for a date, Blake?”

Her question caused his square jaw to turn a shade darker. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Why? Is there anything wrong in that?”

Only that she was the daughter of one of the town’s worst drunks. It didn’t matter that Avery Anderson was dead and gone now. That didn’t change the fact of Katherine’s upbringing.

Stuttering, she tried to give him a reasonable answer. “Uh, well, it’s just that I—Dating is something I don’t do. I mean, not very often.”

“Then you need to let me change that.”

Her heart was suddenly tripping over itself. Blake Hollister wanted to take her on a date! If such a thing had happened twelve years ago, she would’ve fallen over in a dead faint. And she was darned close to it now.

“I don’t—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “You’ve already said you don’t date very often. Well, I don’t, either. So that puts us on equal footing.”

If possible, her heart leaped into an even faster gait. “I suppose I could think about it,” she hedged. “And you could give me a call.”

“Great!” He dropped her hand and pulled a smartphone from his pocket. “Give me your number. Or are you in the book?”

“No landline.” She gave him the number. “That’s my cell. And I can’t answer during working hours.”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a grin. “I’ll call at a respectable time. And soon.”

Completely flustered now, she tugged the strap of her handbag higher onto her shoulder. “I really have to run, Blake. Goodbye.”

Stepping around him, she practically ran into the bank building. But as soon as she reached the lobby, she paused and looked through the darkened plateglass wall overlooking the street.

Blake’s tall, commanding figure was sauntering toward a black pickup truck covered with gray dust. As she watched him climb into the vehicle, then back it into the street, she decided she didn’t have anything to worry about. Blake would never call her. In fact, before the day was over, she’d bet he would delete her number from his phone and forget all about her.

And that was the way she wanted it, she thought as she continued through the lobby and straight to the nearest teller. She wasn’t about to let Blake Hollister, or any man, start filling her head or her heart with romantic dreams.

No. She had more important things to do. Like raising her son. And trying to forget that she was responsible for her husband’s death.

Chapter Two

“What are we doing here, Joe?” Blake asked cynically as he and his younger brother trudged through a narrow gulch filled with rocks and sage. “I mean, we come out here every couple of weeks and poke around like a pair of old prospectors looking for gold. And we have about as much chance of finding anything as those dream chasers did a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“We’re not looking for gold, Blake,” Joseph bluntly reminded him. “We’re looking for some sort of clue to solve our father’s death.”

“Just because Holt found our dad’s spur rowel here in this same gulch back in February, doesn’t mean we’ll find anything else,” Blake reasoned. “Besides, I’ve been thinking. Dad could have already been hanging from the stirrup when Major Bob galloped through this gulch and the rowel was raked off by a rock or bush. Whatever caused him to lose his seat in the saddle could’ve happened a long way from here.”

“That’s true,” Joseph replied. “But I don’t think so. I think he met someone here in the gulch or at the well pump. It’s only about twenty yards from here.”

Joseph had worked as a deputy sheriff for Yavapai County for more than ten years and his mind operated in a different way than Blake’s.

Straightening away from the gravel bed where he’d been searching, Blake tugged his straw cowboy hat lower over his forehead. Midafternoon in Arizona was usually hot at this time of year and today was no exception. Even with his eyes shaded by a pair of dark aviator glasses and the brim of his cowboy hat, the brightness of the sun caused him to squint as he looked across the rocky slope to where his brother stood.

“It’s been five years, Joe. Maybe it’s time we gave up.”

Joseph stared at him for a long, awkward moment, then walked over to him. “I can’t believe you’re saying that. What the hell is wrong with you? Everybody knows Major Bob didn’t spook or buck. You could set off a firecracker under that horse and he’d just stand there with a sleepy look on his face. You and I both know someone killed Dad and tried to make it look like an accident.”

“Yeah,” Blake mumbled. “But after all these years, Joe, how can we ever find enough evidence for the law to make an arrest?”

“We found the rowel. We know Dad was here on this part of the ranch even though he’d told the ranch hands that day he’d be riding a good five miles west of the ranch house. If we can find the reason why he wound up here instead, we’ll figure things out.” Joseph reached for Blake’s shoulder and gave it an encouraging shake. “Come on, brother. You’ve always stuck with me on this. Don’t start losing faith now.”

Blake tried to smile—something he admittedly didn’t do very often. It wasn’t that he was a grouch or a negative person. It was just that smiling and laughing felt awkward to him. His family often called him the judge. They didn’t understand that ever since Joel had died, the heavy weight of running this seven-hundred-thousand-acre ranch had landed squarely on his shoulders. Not only did the family’s financial security depend on Three Rivers’s solvency, but there was also the family legacy to continue. Hollisters of past generations had first built Three Rivers back in 1847. It was Blake’s job to see the ranch remained sound well into the next generation. With that kind of responsibility, he didn’t have much urge to laugh or smile.

“I’m not losing faith, Joe. I only wish some sort of definite clue would turn up. And I—” He paused, his gaze scanning the rocky terrain dotted with thorny chaparral, chollas and the occasional mesquite tree. “When I look around this place, I start imagining Dad and what he must have gone through that day. I wonder if he was fighting for his life. Or did someone ambush him from behind and he never knew what hit him? The questions stab me right in the heart.”

“I feel the same way, Blake. Everyone in the family wonders about those things. Especially Mom.”

Blake released a heavy breath. “She rarely mentions Dad’s death. She only talks about the good memories.”

“That’s because those times are the most important thing to her. The wonderful years Dad was alive and with us,” Joseph replied. “Not the way he died.”

Amazed at Joseph’s calm, perceptive attitude, Blake turned his gaze back to his brother. For years Joseph had been driven to find the answers to their father’s death. As a deputy, he’d used every spare hour he could find to pore over the case that the late Sheriff Maddox had ruled an accident. But now that Joseph had fallen in love with Tessa and made her his wife, his priorities, even his attitude, had definitely changed. Instead of being driven, he took things in stride. Instead of going around with a scowl on his face, his expression was one of composed strength.

It was hard for Blake to believe that love and a coming baby had made such a change in his brother, but the evidence was standing right in front of him. And the reality left Blake more than envious.

“Yeah. The most important,” Blake muttered.

Joseph gently slapped a hand against the middle of Blake’s back. “Come on. Let’s head back. It’s my day off and I promised to meet Tessa in town. She’s still buying things for the nursery. I don’t know how much more stuff she’s going to squeeze into that room. Our little one isn’t going to need clothing for at least two years. She’s already bought our child a pair of cowboy boots.”

Blake’s lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “Guess she’s planning on the kid being a rancher. God help the little tyke.”

The two men began to climb up the steep bank of the gorge.

“Why do you say it like that?” Joseph asked. “You, of all people.”

Blake didn’t bother to answer until he and his brother were both out of the gorge and walking toward a work truck parked a few feet away.

“Ranching is not an easy profession,” he reasoned. “Some people think we just buy a herd of cows, then they eat grass and have babies and that’s all there is to it. Easy, right?”

Joseph glanced over at him. “Some people think all you have to do to be a deputy is pin a badge on your chest. But we both know that nothing worthwhile is easy.”

“Does that include being a husband?” Blake asked.

“Sure,” Joseph joked. “I’ll say it’s as hard as hell and you’ll run and tell Tessa.”

The two men climbed into the cab of a white ton truck with the 3R brand displayed on both doors. As Blake settled himself behind the wheel and started the engine, he said, “I wouldn’t repeat such a thing to my sweet sister-in-law. I was just curious. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve never been a husband before.”

Blake put the truck in motion, and as he steered it in the direction of the ranch house, he could feel Joseph’s keen gaze boring into the side of his face.

“You really are curious, aren’t you?” Joseph asked.

“Why not?”

“Why not? You never bother to look at a woman, much less date one. Not after Lenore.”

Scowling, Blake jerked the wheel to avoid a boulder. “Hell, Joe, did you have to bring her up? Besides, it’s not like I’m over-the-hill and washed-up. I’m only thirty-eight. I still have time to hook up with a woman.”

“How’s that going to happen? You rarely step off Three Rivers.”

“You might be surprised, little brother,” Blake said coyly. “I might’ve already met one.”

As the truck bounced over the rough terrain, Blake glanced over to see Joseph gaping at him.

“Floorboard this damn truck,” Joseph told him, his voice taking on a note of excitement. “We need to get back to the ranch and knock a board off the barn!”

Rolling his eyes, Blake said, “Let’s not take the celebrating to that extent. But I did have coffee with a woman a couple of days ago. A mighty pretty one, too.”

Joseph squared around in the seat. “Did you dip into Mom’s peach wine before we headed out here?”

“What kind of question is that? Don’t you think I might know a girl? A pretty one?”

“Well, yes. I just never figured—Who is she?”

Right now she was little more than a nice, sweet memory. One that Blake couldn’t get out of his head. “Do you remember Paulette Anderson? Years ago, she used to do sewing and mending for Mom.”

“Sure. I remember. Nice lady. In spite of being married to that good-for-nothing Avery. I had to arrest him once. Drunk as a skunk. Driving all over the road. It’s a miracle he hadn’t killed himself or someone else. I’m pretty sure he lost his driver’s license after that.”

My brother, Aaron, wouldn’t offer to help. When I came back—to help Dad—I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing.

Katherine’s remarks about her father suddenly traveled through Blake’s thoughts. Without knowing much about her family life, he’d not fully understood what she’d meant. He’d figured her parents’ divorce had caused a rift with her father, but she’d decided to put it all behind her.

Frowning thoughtfully, he said, “So you’re telling me that Avery Anderson was an alcoholic. I didn’t know.”

“I thought everybody around here knew that.” Joseph shook his head. “What do the Andersons have to do with you having coffee with a woman, anyway?”

“She’s their daughter. Katherine. Her name is O’Dell now. Did you know she’d returned to Wickenburg?”

“No. Guess she came back to bury the old man and settle his estate. Which couldn’t have been much.”

Blake inwardly winced at his brother’s remark. He understood Joseph wasn’t being snobbish. He was simply speaking the truth. The Andersons had lived in a very modest house on the outskirts of town. They’d never had much in the way of material things. But until this moment, Blake hadn’t been aware that Katherine’s father had cared more about a bottle of booze than he had his family. How had she found it in her heart to care for him during his failing health? Blake doubted he could ever be that forgiving or compassionate.

Blake pulled his thoughts back to the present. “Katherine lives here now. She’s a widow. With a son.”

Long moments passed in silence and Blake wondered if his brother was trying to come up with a nice way of telling him to steer clear of Katherine O’Dell.

Eventually, Joseph asked, “You say she’s pretty?”

For once, Blake didn’t have any trouble putting a smile on his face. “Very.”

“Then you’d better ask her out.”

“I already have,” Blake said flatly. “She hedged on giving me an answer.”

Joseph looked at him. “You’re not going to let that stop you, are you?”

“I’m not going to let anything stop me.”

* * *

Later that evening in a small fenced yard behind Katherine’s house, she tossed a baseball with a gentle underhanded pitch to her son, then smacked the worn glove on her left hand.

“Okay. Let it rip. I’m ready,” she called to Nick.

Nick groaned with frustration. “Aww, Mom, that’s not the way to throw a pitch. You gotta go like this. And put some steam behind it!”

He went through the exaggerated windup of a major-league pitcher and then threw a hard bull’s-eye that nearly knocked the glove off Katherine’s hand.

Somehow she managed to make the catch, but her fingers stung from the force of the ball. “Nick! I am not about to throw the ball that hard. I might accidently hurt you. It’s underhanded or not at all,” she warned. “Take your pick.”

Nick groaned. “Oh, Mom, I’m not a baby. I can catch a fastball.”

“Maybe you can, but I’m not going to throw you one. You have to play by my rules.”

“Okay,” he mumbled with disappointment. “I’ll follow your rules. Let’s play.”

Katherine tossed the ball back to him while thinking how much better things would be for her son if he had a father. Not just a guy in the background, like Cliff, who’d worked too many hours to ever notice he had a son, much less spend time teaching him about sports. Nick deserved to have a father who would give him special love and attention. But finding a man who’d give that much to a stepchild seemed next to impossible.

By the time dusk began to fall and the backyard darkened with shadows, Nick had grown tired of the simple game of pitch and announced he was hungry.

Katherine pulled off the glove and handed it, along with the stained baseball, to her son. “Put your things away and wash up. I already have something fixed, so we’ll eat in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Mom. And thanks for playing catch with me.”

At ten years old, he was tall for his age, with long lanky limbs and feet that were growing just as quickly as his height. His thick hair was nearly as dark as hers and his eyes close to the same gray. People often remarked that Nick favored his mother, and Katherine had to admit that when she looked at her son, she saw nothing of Cliff O’Dell. And considering the way that things had worked out for her and her late husband, she supposed it was a blessing that Nick didn’t resemble his father.

Slinging her arm affectionately around Nick’s shoulders, she guided him toward the back door of the house. “You’re very welcome.”

“Mom, do you think I might go to baseball camp this summer? Jimmy Bainter’s dad is going to be the instructor. You know, he played in the minor leagues once. Back before he got so old.”

“Old? I’ve seen Jimmy’s dad before. He doesn’t look old.” Katherine opened the door and ushered her son inside a small mudroom.

“Oh, shoot, Mom, that guy is probably forty!”

Trying not to laugh, Katherine nudged her son on toward the kitchen. “Go on and wash up.”

“But what about the baseball camp? Can I go? Jimmy and Shawn have already signed up. And it’s going to be over at the park. Every day for two whole weeks!”

“May you go,” she said, correcting him. “And maybe. I’ll check into it.”