The Rancher's Prospect

“I’ve already paged her, Josh. She’ll be out in a minute. Has the bleeding stopped?”

“Mostly.”

A minute later Lauren hurried into the waiting room and checked Josh’s wound. She looked at Tara apologetically. “I need to take care of this,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m happy to wait while you deal with the results of someone’s stupidity.”

Lauren’s eyes widened, but she simply gestured to her bad-tempered patient, who followed her into the rear of the clinic with a last fierce look at Tara.

The receptionist chuckled once the door had closed behind them. “Oh, my gosh, Lauren said you had opposite personalities, and now I see what she meant.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s a terrific PA and very sweet, but she would never stick it to Josh the way you did. Good job.”

“Thanks. Is he always like Napoleon with a headache?” Tara asked, using one of her French coworker’s similes.

“Lately, at least. He’s getting on everyone’s nerves and keeps—”

The woman stopped abruptly and looked down at the papers on her desk; perhaps she’d been about to say something prohibited under privacy regulations. She seemed relieved when someone else came through the door and stepped up to the window. A protracted discussion about insurance ensued, so Tara settled into a seat and leafed through a news magazine. She read with interest an article on international relations with France. The thought of returning to Paris for her next contract was compelling, but there were so many other places to see. Rome and Berlin called to her as well, along with Madrid.

In the background, she heard a comment about something Josh needed and pictured his face again. Maybe she shouldn’t have sounded off since the clinic was Lauren’s place of employment. But who did he think he was? Lauren was a professional, not a flunky who was supposed to jump when he snapped his fingers.

As for lectures... Weren’t medical personnel supposed to advise their patients on healthy living?

She was on her third magazine when the interior door swung open.

It was Josh...What’s His Name. While his hand was neatly bandaged and elevated in a sling, getting it treated obviously hadn’t sweetened his mood. The thunderclouds on his face did nothing to diminish his good looks, but Tara wasn’t impressed—she’d known too many handsome jerks over the years. He glanced at her, and she gave him a wickedly sweet smile, which made him glower all the more fiercely before marching from the clinic.

Lauren joined her several minutes later.

“I’m free now,” she said. “But I’m afraid that took part of my lunch hour.”

“That’s okay. Where shall we go?”

“How about the restaurant down the street? It isn’t gourmet, nothing like the places where we ate in Paris. Schuyler doesn’t have any fancy restaurants, but the Roundup Café is fast and clean.”

“Not a problem. I enjoy indigenous foods.”

Lauren just blinked at the tongue-in-cheek remark, so Tara wasn’t sure whether her sister shared her sense of humor. Or maybe they simply needed to know each other better before that sort of thing could be understood between them.

* * *

JOSH STALKED AWAY from the clinic. The throb in his palm had subsided thanks to the anesthetic Lauren had used before sewing it up, but it would undoubtedly begin hurting again as that wore off. She’d also written a prescription for pain pills. He had insisted they weren’t necessary, but she’d reasonably pointed out that he might change his mind after the clinic had closed.

It didn’t help to know he’d acted worse than a hungry bear right out of hibernation. The series of accidents he’d had in recent months had made him feel like a ten-thumbed greenhorn. What’s more, once he got back to the Boxing N, Grandpa was sure to make a remark that would send his blood pressure sky-high.

On Josh’s last two visits to the clinic, Lauren had suggested he needed to pay more attention to what he was doing, especially when tense or angry. It was irritating to be told something he already knew, and he hadn’t wanted to hear it again. Still, Lauren Spencer was a nice sort, and he shouldn’t have barked at her...or at the woman he’d thought was Lauren. The story of her long-lost twin sister had gone through Schuyler with the speed of a grassfire, but he hadn’t realized they were identical.

Well, not really identical, at least in personality. Lauren was quiet, almost shy at times, with a down-to-earth practicality, while Tara had a cool, sensual polish. If he’d known she was in town he never would have mixed them up, but he’d heard she lived in France. She did seem foreign in Montana, while her sister had fit in from the beginning. It was a good thing. Getting medical professionals in Schuyler was an ongoing challenge; the town had even resorted to offering a bonus for anyone agreeing to stay three years or longer.

Josh snorted grimly. People in Schuyler wouldn’t be pleased if he said anything to make Lauren unhappy. It wasn’t just that they needed a good PA, they liked her...a whole lot better than they liked him recently.

Grimacing, he fished his cell phone out, awkward from being temporarily one-handed. Finally he untied the sling and stuffed it in his pocket. His phone had rung several times in the clinic, but he hadn’t been able to answer while Lauren was stitching up his palm.

The missed calls were from his parents’ home number, so he dialed back, trying to ignore the small clutch in his chest. It had only been six months since they’d lost Grandma Evelyn, and the whole family remained jumpy about the possibility of more bad news.

“Darling, are you all right?” asked his mother in an anxious tone. “Dora Payton phoned. She said you went into the clinic covered in blood.”

“Dora overreacted, as usual. It’s just a cut and Lauren put in a few stitches.”

“Thank God. Not that I’m happy you were hurt, I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. Why don’t you come over and lie down for a while? I’ll make you lunch.”

Sarah McGregor couldn’t resist playing mommy, even for her grown children.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. As long as I’m in town, I’m going to run an errand.”

“Oh. All right. Call if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Josh disconnected before she could suggest pulling out his old teddy bear for comfort.

He returned the phone to his pocket and headed for the bank. After taking care of his business, he’d stop and grab lunch before going back to the ranch. Maybe along the way he’d get a little inspiration on dealing with his grandfather.

* * *

AS SHE AND LAUREN stepped into the Roundup Café, Tara was instantly aware that they’d become the center of attention. Heads swiveled their direction, the rhythm of the conversations changed and several people left their seats to crowd around them.

“My word, Lauren,” an older woman exclaimed, “you mentioned having a twin, but it didn’t sink in that you’d look so much alike. Your hair and eyes... I can hardly tell you apart.”

“Did you really meet for the first time in the last year?” someone else asked. “That’s amazing.”

Their curiosity was understandable. Separated and reunited twins weren’t common, and Tara knew she might be equally curious in their shoes.

“Tara,” Lauren said, “this is Vanta Cooper, she’s an attorney, and that’s Mark Corson, and this is Rob Mueller...”

The introductions continued and Tara lost track of the names; it seemed as if her sister knew everyone in town.

Vanta Cooper leaned toward Tara. “Don’t worry, nobody expects you to remember who we are. Lauren gets to know us at the clinic and other places.”

Nevertheless, Tara was getting distinctly edgy. How had her sister become friends with so many people? She’d only lived in Schuyler since last October. Maybe it was a Montana thing, the open ranges and isolation drawing everyone together. Or it could simply be that Lauren made friends easily.

Tara’s smile got harder to maintain as the introductions continued. She hoped nobody expected her to be like her twin, because she wasn’t. Life as a foster kid had taught her there were risks to getting close to people. As an adult she’d spent two years in each country where she’d worked but couldn’t claim to have friends in any of them; knowing she was leaving made it seem best to keep her distance. Naturally she had acquaintances, though she rarely kept contact with them once she moved on to a new position.

After what seemed like ages, folks returned to their seats while she and Lauren found a table along the wall.

“You’ve obviously gotten to know a lot of people here,” Tara commented after they gave their order to a server.

“Medical personnel are popular in Schuyler,” Lauren explained. “And my best friend married into one of the oldest families in town, so that helps. Everybody knows the McGregors.”

Tara frowned thoughtfully. “I thought Emily married someone named Hawkins.” Her sister had sent Emily’s name as an emergency contact after moving to Schuyler.

“She did, but Trent’s mother was a McGregor. When his parents died, he and his sister, Alaina, were adopted by their maternal uncle and aunt. The family is terrific and everybody here is so nice. I was really impressed when I came for the wedding, and since Emily loves the place so much, I decided Schuyler would be a good place to live.”

“I see.”

Just then the café door opened and in walked the wounded jackass from the clinic. He looked around, probably searching for an empty spot in the crowded restaurant, and Tara hoped he didn’t expect to join them, because while sparring with him might be interesting, she was sure it would make her sister uncomfortable.

“Hey, Lauren,” he said, stopping nearby.

“Hey, Josh.” Lauren looked at his bandage before focusing on his face. “What happened to the sling?”

“It’s in my pocket. I want to thank you for taking care of me. Sorry I was so abrupt.”

“No worries. I, um, should properly introduce you to my twin sister.” She gestured. “Josh McGregor, Tara Livingston.”

McGregor?

Oh, great.

For a moment Tara wondered whether Lauren might be sweet on the guy; that might also explain the “lecture.” If so, her move to Montana made sense. But if they were involved romantically, Tara knew she might cut her stay short—watching someone careening toward an emotional train wreck wasn’t her idea of fun. Her sister was far too quiet and shy to deal with Josh McGregor’s volatile personality. Work was the only part of Lauren’s life where she seemed confident.

“Hello,” Tara muttered, and he gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod.

“Please keep your arm elevated as much as possible,” Lauren urged him. “That spot on the hand is especially vulnerable to infection. And take it easy. You need to let it heal.”

“You bet. Thanks.”

When they were alone again, Lauren leaned forward. “I realize Josh was in a rotten mood when you met him earlier, but he isn’t always that way. Emily says he’s a good guy,” she said softly.

“Deep, deep down, right?” Tara guessed, deciding that Lauren wasn’t interested in Josh, after all, except as a patient.

“He can be difficult, but from everything I’ve heard, he’s going through a rough time right now.” Lauren nervously adjusted her water glass. “Anyhow, I was thrilled when you said you were coming for an extended visit, but can you afford to be off work that long?”

“It isn’t a problem.”

Tara wasn’t accustomed to sharing personal details with anyone, and didn’t elaborate on her financial situation. For ten years she’d enjoyed generous salaries, a full living expense allowance and hefty bonuses. She’d bought company stock and was well fixed. Employment wasn’t about earning a paycheck any longer; it was about seeing and living in new places and getting better at her work in accounting and records management. She’d specialized in both.

Their food came, and as Tara ate, she saw Josh McGregor inhale an enormous hamburger so fast he probably didn’t even taste it on the way down. The corner of her mouth twitched as she saw a splash of sauce from the burger hit the neat bandage on his hand. He wiped it quickly and got up, tossing money on the table.

On his way to the door he gave her another polite nod, but Tara wasn’t fooled. Whatever had been burning under his facade was still smoldering.

CHAPTER TWO

THE THIRD NIGHT after he’d cut his hand, Josh wished he’d filled the prescription for painkillers from Lauren; instead it was still in his wallet. He’d decided to tough things out.

He lay in bed for another few minutes, listening to the sounds that drifted in through the open window—cattle lowing, the neighs from the horses...a night breeze through the trees. Finally, he rolled out of bed and took two aspirins before dropping into the living room recliner.

The house Josh lived in was a couple hundred feet from the main house. His choice to stay in the foreman’s residence, instead of with Walt, was another source of tension between them. Walt thought his grandson should be at his immediate beck and call, though not because of uncertainty over his health. He just wanted to yell that the barns needed to be checked or to do some other task...usually something Josh had already handled or assigned to someone.

Josh’s mouth tightened.

Unreasonable expectations were why the foreman’s house had been empty. Grandpa was an old-school rancher who believed in running things with an iron fist, and no foreman worth his salt was willing to be treated as a glorified flunky. Walt had never kept anyone for more than a few months.

Belatedly recalling the recommendation Lauren Spencer had made, Josh raised his injured arm and draped it above his head.

Maybe if he hadn’t repaired the corral his hand wouldn’t be throbbing so much, but he couldn’t take any time off to let the gash heal—there was too much to do.

Now another cowhand had quit, leaving with the wry remark that he hoped to get his final pay. Josh presumed it was a reference to the deplorable state of the ranch office. Walt’s name remained on the ranch accounts and he insisted that he could continue writing the checks, but payments were erratic. When Josh had brought it up earlier, the old man had furiously claimed he had a plan and would get it done.

Right, a plan.

His grandfather kept an old-style ledger book to carefully track the number of foals born each year, but all the other ranch accounts were in shambles. Walt practically considered a computer to be blasphemy and the internet a passing fad not worth thinking about. Apparently it had escaped his notice that his wife had owned a computer and used the internet.

When Josh had moved in, he’d had the internet service transferred to the foreman’s house. His next step would have to be getting a computer online at the ranch office, though he could imagine his grandfather’s explosion when he did so.

Josh released a heavy breath.

God, he missed Grandma Evelyn. She was the one who’d kept peace between her husband and the rest of the family. But it was more than that. She’d been a wise, beautiful, laughter-filled presence in his life. Losing her had left a hole that refused to heal.

His family kept urging him to have patience with Walt, but they didn’t know how bad things had gotten. Legally Josh now owned the Boxing N and could do what he wanted, but how could he oust his grandfather? Hang the legalities; it was still Walt’s ranch. But like it or not, Josh knew he’d have to take control of the office at some point. Bills and the payroll needed to be properly managed, along with any stock sales or purchases. He didn’t want to get a reputation for being unreliable.

The throbbing slowly eased in his hand, and Josh had fallen asleep, when the phone rang. He grabbed the receiver, adrenaline racing through him.

“Yes?”

“We need to get to the hospital,” said his grandfather.

Josh shot to his feet. Walt had been frail since the accident, and his continuing health issues had put stress on his heart. Was it possible their heated discussion about the ranch office had brought on a heart attack or stroke?

“What symptoms are you having?”

“It isn’t me,” Grandpa returned irritably. “It’s Alaina. Your sister has gone into labor.”

Josh’s pulse slowed. It was good news, not an emergency.

“If it’s just started, we don’t have to rush,” he said. “Mom says first babies take time. Get some more sleep and we’ll go in a couple of hours.”

“No, now.”

Josh released an exasperated breath. He might have known Walt wouldn’t budge. His grandfather was crazy about Alaina, despite her being related to the McGregor clan rather than the Nelsons. It had taken Walt a while to accept both Trent and Alaina after they were adopted by his daughter and son-in-law, but Alaina had totally won him over.

A few minutes later Josh stepped outside. Grandpa was waiting on the porch of the main house and without a word climbed into the cab of the truck, maneuvering his bad leg into place.

Josh headed for town, his hand pulsing again. He could take the pain med prescription to the pharmacy in a couple of hours, but he hated the way that stuff made him feel. That was one of the few things he shared with Walt; his grandfather didn’t like taking anything for pain, either.

* * *

TARA EXITED HER apartment complex and saw Lauren coming down the block toward her. They’d discovered a mutual fondness for early-morning walks and had agreed to meet each day at 6:00 a.m. so they could go together. It was a relief to finally discover something in common.

Tara fell in step with her sister, who had started toward the edge of town. “Do you always take the same route?” she asked.

“Usually. I guess that makes me boring, but I enjoy the fitness trail. It’s great to get away from houses and power lines. I could never do it easily in Los Angeles, but would you rather go another way?”

“This works for me.”

Beginning at the hospital, the path continued out to the county park, where it branched into different directions. Tara had first seen the park on one of her drives; it was a pretty place and she looked forward to exploring it thoroughly. But as they walked through the hospital’s small parking lot, Lauren’s pace slowed.

“That’s Trent’s truck,” she said, gesturing to a vehicle with Big Sky Construction painted on the door. “Emily is only five months along—it’s too early. Do you mind if we... Well, you don’t need to go in. You should continue on without me.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” Tara told her. It didn’t seem right to ignore Lauren’s concern for her friend. Besides, with nothing else to do in Schuyler, she could walk whenever she wanted.

“We’ll need to go in through the emergency room because it’s so early,” Lauren explained, leading her to a side door.

The hospital wasn’t large, but from what Tara saw as she followed her sister, it was clean and modern.

Lauren turned into a hallway marked Maternity and stopped when she saw the waiting room full of people.

“Em, are you all right?” she exclaimed, rushing over to a woman in a navy blue maternity dress. “We were going for a walk when I saw Trent’s truck outside.”

“Nothing is wrong,” Emily assured, patting her rounded tummy. “Alaina went into labor. The whole family gathers for stuff like this. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Lauren nodded fervently.

Tara wasn’t sure what she’d expected of her sister’s oldest friend, but while Emily Hawkins wasn’t a raving beauty, she was pretty and positively glowed as she hugged the arm of a tall, handsome man who had to be her husband. A strange envy went through Tara when she saw the tender way he looked down at his wife.

Recalling that Josh McGregor was a member of the family, Tara scanned the room and saw him in a corner, his hand elevated, with what appeared to be fresh blood on the bandage. Curious, she went over and saw the wrapping was no longer pristine white, but dingy from a lot more than the hamburger sauce she’d seen him spill on it. Undeniably, there was fresh blood, as well.

Josh’s mouth tightened at her obvious interest, but he stood nevertheless. Certain age-old male courtesies were alive and well in Schuyler, Montana—cowboys tipped their hats and men stood in a woman’s presence.

“It looks as though you need another lecture,” she said softly.

Beyond a set jaw, Josh didn’t react.

A youngster sitting nearby was staring at Tara in fascination. “Golly, you do look like Lauren,” she declared, then cocked her head. “But in a way you don’t, only I’m not sure why.”

“DeeDee, at least introduce yourself before spouting off,” scolded a woman with auburn hair. She stood and smiled at Tara. “I’m Kayla McGregor, and this is my daughter, DeeDee.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tara Livingston.”

“Why isn’t your name Spencer, like Lauren?” DeeDee asked.

“Because Lauren was adopted by the Spencer family and they changed her name,” Tara explained, hoping the youngster wouldn’t ask more questions. She didn’t enjoy thinking about her childhood or telling people that she’d never been adopted. Instead, she’d grown up in foster homes until she’d aged out of the system at eighteen. The situation wasn’t unusual, but when you were a kid, hoping for a family of your own, it was hard not to wonder if something was wrong with you rather than understand that some people were reluctant to adopt older children.

Across the waiting room Lauren was talking to a man dressed in surgical scrubs; a moment later she hurried toward Tara. “Everything is going well with Alaina,” she said.

A perverse mood nudged Tara. “Mr. McGregor’s hand might be the exception.”

“I’m fine,” Josh snapped.

“Really? I could swear that’s fresh blood. But since you’re at a hospital, I’m sure you can get help if you need it,” she added, mindful that her sister was off duty.

Lauren immediately turned to Josh. “Let me check it for you. I can probably get supplies from the emergency room.”

His head shook once in a definitive rejection. “You said there would be drainage, and that’s all this is.” Yet he flinched in obvious discomfort as he shifted his arm.

Lauren hesitated as she looked at the grubby bandage. “Uh, Josh, you need a clean dressing at the very least, and if you’re in excessive pain, you could have an infection.”

“I’m just, uh, late with a pain pill, that’s all. I’ll put a fresh wrapping on it later.”

His tone made Tara wonder if there was more to the story, but maybe she’d prodded him enough. She wasn’t even sure why she had done it the first time, unless it was the universal impulse of poking a sleeping snake to see if it was alive...and seeing how quickly you could jump out of striking range.

“Okay,” Lauren said, though she didn’t sound convinced and shot another worried glance at the filthy bandage.

It was curious that she wasn’t being more forthright, but on the other hand, Josh McGregor did the tough he-man thing so well, it would take someone far more self-assured to challenge him. Besides, he hadn’t come for follow-up medical care; he was just waiting for his sister to give birth.

Lauren crossed the room to speak with someone else, so Tara decided to prod Josh a little further, after all.

“Personally,” she said, “even if the inside is okay, which I doubt, the outside of that bandage looks like something from a horror film.”

That was when he turned and stalked out of the room.

Tara stood back and waited as her sister made the rounds of the waiting room, then became aware of an older man a few feet away. His head was cocked as he stared at her.

She smiled. “Hi, I’m Tara Livingston.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Walt Nelson. You, uh, remind me of my wife when we first met—beautiful and sassy.”

“I...have a feeling you just gave me a lovely compliment,” she answered. No one else was paying any attention to the two of them and there was a strange air of intimacy, even in the midst of the group.