Cattleman's Honor

“Isn’t the Running W big enough for you yet?” she teased. “It’s already way bigger than any of my friends’ ranches.”

“You know how we always have to move the cattle out of the eastern pasture every summer,” he reminded her. “It’s water we need more than land.”

When it came to the actual working of the ranch, Kim hadn’t yet taken much of an interest. Someday the Running W, begun on a much smaller scale by her grandfather, would be passed on to the next generation of Winchesters. Kim was the only child Adam figured on having. Someday she’d own a third of it. Since Adam had taken over, he’d expanded the operation and put it on a solid financial footing. Too bad the old man hadn’t lived long enough to see what a good job his oldest son was doing.

“There’s a dance at school in a couple of weeks,” Kim said. “Sarah wanted to know if I was going.”

At least it wasn’t some boy doing the asking. Not yet, anyway. Dances at the high school were well chaperoned. Kim had been allowed to go to several already this year, even though Adam would have liked to keep her locked in her room until she was thirty.

“Is this the reason for the enchilada casserole?” He couldn’t resist teasing. “Soften the old man up first?”

Kim looked mildly indignant, but the flush on her cheeks gave her away. “Of course not. All of my friends will be there, and I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“Well, if Sarah’s parents can drive one way, I’m sure somebody here can manage to pick you up,” Adam conceded.

“Billie Campbell got his driver’s license.” Kim picked up her roll and began tearing it into pieces. “Sarah said he might be able to borrow his dad’s car.”

Before Kim had finished talking, Adam was already shaking his head. “Billie Campbell lives clear on the other side of town, and I don’t want you riding with someone who just got his license.”

“Da-ad!” she wailed, dropping the roll onto her plate. “That’s not fair. I’m too old for my father to drive me.”

“You’re fifteen. Life isn’t always fair,” he replied evenly, unwilling to argue with her, “but I’ll be happy to provide transportation. Let me know what you decide.” Billie Campbell was barely sixteen, a mass of hormones with all the sense of a bull calf. Adam might not be able to bar boys like him from the dance or keep them away from Kim, but he wasn’t about to let his daughter in a car with one of them behind the wheel.

For a moment she glared at him, lower lip poked out, but then she sighed dramatically. “Okay. Can I at least get something new to wear?”

He chuckled, suspecting he’d just been maneuvered by an expert. “I suppose. If Betty doesn’t have time to take you shopping before the dance, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” Kim’s smile brought a shaft of relief that, so far, their relationship hadn’t been marred by the kinds of arguments some of the other parents were already having with their kids.

“What else is going on with you?” he asked idly as he cleaned his plate.

“There’s a new boy at school.” She tucked a strand of long, dark hair behind one ear. Six months ago he’d told her she couldn’t have them pierced until she turned sixteen. That had cost him a new parka, he recalled. “I think he’s from California,” she added. “He’s way cool.”

Adam blinked. “Who?”

Kim rolled her eyes. “The new boy. The one I was just telling you about.”

New boy? Adam’s paternal instincts went on red alert. “Have you met him?”

“Not really, but he’s in a couple of my classes. He acts so much more mature than the other boys.” Kim had friends of both genders, and Adam suspected she got periodic crushes he didn’t know about or care to. Someone different might seem pretty slick to a young girl like her. Adam wanted to warn her to be careful, but he didn’t know what to say without scaring her or making her clam up.

California! Perhaps the fancy truck Adam had seen in town belonged to the new kid. He was probably Emily’s son. If so, he wouldn’t be around long enough for Adam to be concerned.

Suddenly, he realized that Betty, his longtime housekeeper, was standing by his elbow waiting to take his plate.

“Are you finished, Mr. Winchester?” she asked. She’d worked for him since right after Christie had left, managing the household, helping to raise Kim and offering a running commentary on Adam’s social life, but she had steadfastly refused to call him by his first name. That, she felt, would breed too much familiarity.

On more than one occasion he’d wished she would call him any damn thing she wanted just as long as she kept her nose out of his personal life.

Now he leaned back in his chair so she could clear away his dishes. “Thank you, Betty. As usual, dinner was delicious.”

“Thank your daughter,” she replied, glancing across the table with a warm smile. “While she was fixing the casserole, I had time to make peach cobbler for dessert.”

Adam sat up straighter. Peach was one of his favorites. “The two of you are going to spoil me,” he drawled, patting his flat stomach. He was on the move far too much for his weight to ever be a problem.

“You don’t have anybody else in your life to pamper you and no prospects on the horizon that I can see, so I guess the job falls to Kim and me,” Betty replied with a sniff as she left the room.

Adam had learned from long experience that ignoring Betty’s more pointed remarks was his simplest option.

“You don’t need anyone else,” Kim exclaimed. “Like you’ve always told me, you and I are a team, right?” Although Christie still lived in Denver, she hadn’t played a big part in Kim’s life. Christie worked in a gallery there, and a daughter who needed her wasn’t a priority. She hadn’t remarried, but Adam had long suspected Christie had something going with the gallery owner, who was much older and very successful.

“In a few years you’ll meet someone special, and then your attitude will change,” Adam told Kim, putting on a woeful expression and shaking his head sadly. “You’ll forget your old man even exists.”

“Never!” she declared, jumping up to come around the table and throw her arms around his neck. “And I’d never marry anyone who wasn’t willing to run the ranch and take care of you in your old age, either.”

A sudden image of himself in a rocking chair with gray hair and a blanket over his knees made Adam wince as he returned her hug. “Thanks, sweetie, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that,” he said dryly. For some reason, he pictured the way Emily Major had looked that afternoon, her cool smile a challenge he found hard to dismiss. Although remarriage wasn’t in the cards, he was still glad that he wasn’t ready for that rocking chair just yet.

Emily surveyed her new studio with a sigh of satisfaction. There were several long benches, two with recessed shelves underneath them for her cases of brass hand tools and other supplies. In a corner was a cabinet with drawers for type and a small iron nipping press bolted to the top. On one table were several other kinds of presses and cutters, an electric tooling stove and a grinder for her knives. A file cabinet held correspondence and records of books she had already restored. A fire-resistant safe contained two new projects, a very old family Bible and a sixteenth-century medical handbook. Mounted on one wall was a CD player and speakers. On another was a rack to hold rolls of raw Asahi silk from Japan.

Emily was eager to return to work, but right now she wanted to take a walk along the property line with Monty, the collie she and David had brought home the afternoon before, and see how the fence repair work was going. There was a stiff spring breeze, and the sun was shining. She wasn’t ready to shut herself inside with relics from the past, no matter how fascinating.

Monty thrust his cold, wet nose into Emily’s hand as if to remind her of his presence. He might not have been the dog they’d set out to acquire, but they’d made an impulsive—and fortunate—detour at the local veterinarian’s office on their way to check out a litter of blue heeler puppies at a house on the other side of Waterloo.

Monty’s owner had gone into a nursing home, and the vet told Emily he’d nearly given up finding a new family for the middle-aged collie. Lucky for Emily that David had fallen for the dog as quickly as she had. The moment they followed Doc Harmon into the back room of his office and saw Monty curled up on a braided rug by the heater, the dog had stolen her heart. When she was little, she’d always wanted a collie just like Lassie, and now she had one.

“Yes, you’re a good boy,” she cooed as she stroked his long, thin head. At first he’d been nervous, sniffing everything in the house and startling at the slightest noise. Eventually he’d settled onto his rug by David’s bed and slept there through the night. This morning after David had gone to school, Monty stuck by Emily’s side like a magnet on a refrigerator door. He minded well. So far she’d had no need to use the leash that matched his red leather collar.

A puppy would have been banned from her studio to avoid any risk of damage to her irreplaceable inventory or expensive supplies, but Monty, well past the chewing and piddling stages, would be great company while she worked.

Emily was about to shut the studio door behind her when the collie’s tulip-shaped ears pricked to attention and a low growl rolled up from his throat. Seconds later Emily saw a dust cloud and then she recognized the black pickup coming down her road.

“It’s okay,” she reassured the collie, glad for his presence. Coming from L.A., she wasn’t yet completely at ease with the wide-open spaces surrounding her or the sense of utter remoteness she felt when David wasn’t home.

The dog gave her a quick glance and then resumed his watchful stance as the pickup rolled to a stop. Adam Winchester emerged, one long leg at a time and, to Emily’s surprise, Monty’s feathery tail began to wag in great sweeping strokes.

“Some watchdog you are,” she scolded softly as the dog deserted her for her visitor, who immediately stopped and extended his hand.

From his black cowboy hat to his scuffed leather boots, Winchester was once again dressed like a working cowboy. All he needed was a six-gun strapped to his hip and he could have walked right onto the set of an old Western movie.

“Hello again,” he called out to Emily as he patted Monty’s head. The dog wiggled like a puppy. “What’s Mae Sweeney’s collie doing here?”

Monty glanced up at Emily, who hadn’t bothered to return her neighbor’s greeting. What part of I’m not selling hadn’t Adam Winchester understood?

“I didn’t steal him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she replied defensively, ignoring her sudden attack of jealousy over her new pet’s defection. “I got Monty from the vet. He needed a home, and Doc Harmon said he’s got too many dogs already.”

“What are you going to do about him when you leave?” Winchester asked as he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his black hair.

“Doc Harmon?” She barely knew the man.

“No, the dog. I’ll take him, if you want. We can always make room for one more at the ranch.”

First her land and now her dog? What was it with this man? Next he’d be angling after her firstborn. Emily lifted her chin and braced her hands on her hips. “Who said anything about leaving?” she asked in her chilliest voice. “I happen to like it here.”

Winchester glanced around them with a speculative expression. “You planning on ranching your twenty acres?” His tone indicated that her property was too small for anything bigger than a pea patch.

“I may,” she retorted. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She’d actually considered buying some sheep, but she no longer had to explain her every action to some man. Let Mr. Hotshot Cattle Rancher think what he liked.

He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “My property surrounds you on three sides. Everything that goes on around here is my business.”

What arrogance! Emily forced herself to saunter over to where he stood with her dog. She would have liked to call Monty back to her side, but it would be too embarrassing if the collie chose to ignore her.

She wished Winchester didn’t tower over her by a head, but she refused to let his greater height and the width of his shoulders intimidate her. She was through knuckling under to anyone, and she’d go toe-to-toe or nose-to-nose to hang on to what was hers. This man might make her nervous, but he’d never know it.

“I think you’d better leave.” She snapped her fingers at Monty, who ducked his head and slunk to her side.

“Not before you name your price,” her neighbor insisted with a gleam in his eye, as though they were sharing a joke.

“A million dollars!” Emily said rashly.

His amusement faded like a light winking out. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” she said. “I’m not. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it. Let me know when you’ve come to your senses.” Letting his gaze sweep over her one last time, he jammed his hat back on his head and spun on his heel.

Emily watched him climb into his truck, ignoring the way his jeans molded themselves to his masculine contours. “Don’t hold your breath,” she called out childishly, arms folded.

He looked down at her from the open window. “You’ll sell.”

His confident tone sent a shiver of foreboding down Emily’s spine. How far was this man willing to go to get what he wanted?

Chapter Three

“How’s the land grab going?” Charlie Winchester asked Adam as Travis turned a snort of laughter into a cough that he buried in his fist.

Usually the three brothers worked different parts of the sprawling ranch, each leading his own group of men, but a small bunch of cattle needed moving closer in, so Adam had recruited the other two and a couple of the dogs to ride out with him this morning. Preparation for spring roundup had kept them all too busy for more than the most perfunctory conversation during the past couple of weeks, and this was the kind of day that made a man thankful to work outdoors. The sky above was as blue as Arizona turquoise, and the swaying grasses were dotted with early wildflowers.

Adam’s saddle creaked as he turned to look at Charlie. “We’re buying the Johnson place, not stealing it,” Adam said mildly, refusing to let his youngest brother’s comment spoil his mood. “The current owner wants to dicker a little before she lets go, but we’ll have what we need in the end.”

He still didn’t know why Emily Major had bought Johnson’s place, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He realized uneasily that he was actually looking forward to their next sparring match. She was attractive, and his blood was still red, even if he didn’t have what it took to hang on to a woman he cared about. He had no intention of getting involved.

“So the rumors are all true,” Charlie said. “Johnson sold out to a woman from the left coast. What I don’t understand is why he didn’t talk to us first. He must have known we’d top anyone else’s offer.”

“He was a reclusive old man,” Adam replied as he spotted a few head of cattle. When they saw the approaching riders, they bunched together, their calves bawling nervously. “Maybe he was getting senile, too. Who knows? It’s not important. She’ll sell.”

“Adam will charm her,” Charlie told Travis with a broad wink he didn’t bother to conceal from his eldest brother. “By the time he’s done with the sweet-talk, she won’t know what hit her.”

Travis glanced at Adam. “If charm is what’s needed, maybe I’d better take over,” he said to Charlie behind his gloved hand. “When it comes to dealing with the ladies, our big brother’s a little rusty.”

“You’re a married man,” Charlie reminded him. “Rory would hand you your head if you ever looked at anyone else.” His dimples flashed as he made a mock bow. “I, on the other hand, am presently unattached.”

“What happened to that nurse you were seeing?” Adam demanded. The pretty brunette had been on Charlie’s arm so often lately, she might have been stuck there with Velcro. “I thought you two were getting serious.”

“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. It appears you survived.”

That explained his connection to the man so determined to buy her out. Did Travis realize who she was? “As you can see, I’m still in one piece,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

“Newcomers to Waterloo tend to stand out,” he said. “Especially the pretty ones.” His wife elbowed him playfully, and they exchanged smiles, the easy affection between them plain to see.