The Rancher's Request

But not like that. For a few seconds you were swooning, dreaming of more.

Disgusted with herself, she straightened the straps on her dress, then bravely stepped out of the room and back into the party.

In the great room she was quickly swept onto the dance floor by one man and then another. The music was lively and normally Juliet loved to dance, but as each partner struck up a conversation, she found herself looking around the room, searching for him.

Eventually, Juliet decided she’d lost the partying mood and decided to retrieve her purse from the kitchen and head home. She’d already gotten what she’d come for anyway. And more, she thought dismally.

When Juliet entered the kitchen, she found Cook stirring up another bowl of punch. She told the older woman goodbye, then collected her wrap and left the house through the nearest exit. As for thanking Geraldine Saddler for the wedding invitation, she’d do that later through a card in the mail.

Outside the massive, hacienda-style house, the clouds had grown even heavier than when she and Matt were on the patio. The wind was chillier and she gathered the velvet stole higher on her arms as she hurried to her parked car.

Juliet was so intent on getting away from the ranch she almost missed the young girl sitting on one of the half-buried railroad ties that lined the edge of the driveway. She was wearing a long, pale pink dress and her light brown hair flowed in waves down her back. If it weren’t for the lost expression on her face, she would have looked totally adorable.

Curious as to why the girl was out here alone, Juliet walked over to her.

“Hello,” she said warmly.

The girl, who appeared to be twelve or thirteen, glumly glanced up at her.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

“Why aren’t you inside enjoying the party?”

Bending her head, the girl plucked absently at her skirt. “Why aren’t you?”

Carefully, Juliet sat down next to the girl, while telling herself it didn’t matter if creosote stained the seat of her dress. The child emanated sadness, an emotion that Juliet was well acquainted with, and she couldn’t leave until she’d found out what was upsetting her.

“Well, I don’t really know anyone around here and I’m not all that good at talking to strangers.” Or kissing them, either, Juliet thought wryly. “So I decided to head home.”

Big brown eyes looked curiously up at Juliet. “I know everyone here today. Except for you. Are you a relative?”

Juliet shook her head. “No. My name is Juliet Madsen and I write stories for the newspaper. I’m going to do one about the wedding.”

“Oh.” The flicker of curiosity fell from her face and the corners of her lips turned downward. “Then I guess you know my daddy was a groomsman. You probably have all their names down and all that kind of stuff.”

“That’s right. What’s your father’s name?”

“Matt Sanchez. I’m Gracia Sanchez and my daddy’s the general manager of the Sandbur. Did you know that?”

Juliet didn’t know why she was so stunned to discover that Matt Sanchez had a daughter. The man was probably closer to forty than he was thirty. He’d had plenty of time to acquire a family. But when he’d kissed her—well, she’d never imagined that he had a wife somewhere in the wedding crowd. Dear God, what if the woman had walked in on them? The idea burned Juliet with anger and embarrassment.

“Uh—no. I didn’t know that. You must be very proud of him.”

The girl shrugged. “I guess so. He’s always busy.”

The simple statement said volumes and Juliet suddenly remembered her own childhood and a father who’d never been around. No matter if she’d needed him or not. Hugh Madsen’s indifference to his daughter’s life had left a deep wound inside Juliet, one that had never healed.

Juliet nodded with understanding. “Most men usually are,” she said more wistfully than she’d intended, then looked pointedly at Gracia’s pink satin dress. “Your dress is beautiful. Did your mother let you pick it out yourself?”

The girl’s eyes shadowed over and then she quickly glanced away from Juliet. “I picked it out myself. But I don’t have a mother. She died when I was six.”

Juliet was suddenly struck with empathy for the girl. Looking at Gracia was like seeing herself twelve years ago.

Gently, she reached over and stroked a strand of gold-brown hair lying on Gracia’s shoulder.

“My mother died when I was eight,” Juliet told her. “So you don’t have to tell me how awful it is. I understand.”

Gracia’s head twisted back around and she looked at Juliet with surprise. “Your mother died, too? Really? How come?”

Juliet’s heart squeezed as faded memories of her ailing mother drifted to the forefront of her thoughts. Eva Madsen had been a softspoken, gentle woman who’d made Juliet’s world a magical place with smiles and laughter and a loving hand. When she’d passed away from cancer, Juliet’s life had never been the same.

“She was sick for a long time and could never get well.”

“Oh. My mother got hurt on a horse and died all of a sudden.”

Juliet was suddenly thinking about Matt and how the tragedy must have affected him. He seemed such a stern, unyielding man it was hard to imagine him grieving. But people dealt with personal loss in different ways. For all she knew, the ranch manager might still be mourning his wife’s death.

“I’m sorry, Gracia. But sometimes bad things happen to nice people.”

She gave Juliet a solemn nod as though she’d already accepted such a fact. “Do you have a stepmom?”

Juliet shook her head. “I only have a father and no brothers or sisters.”

A petulant look suddenly stole over the young girl’s sweet face. “Me, too. And that’s why I don’t like being inside today—with the wedding going on. My daddy won’t—”

“Gracia! Finally, I’ve found you!”

Matt’s voice interrupted his daughter’s words and both girl and woman looked over their shoulders to see him rapidly descending upon them. The cowman’s strides were long and purposeful, his expression dour. Juliet felt herself bracing for his presence and when his eyes zeroed in on her face, she unconsciously rose to her feet.

“You! What are you doing out here with my daughter?” he asked sharply.

How could she have had one sympathetic thought for this man, Juliet wondered. Too bad she hadn’t managed to get that slap off. Whacking his jaw would have given her supreme pleasure.

“I’m trying to get to my car and go home.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”

“You don’t know what anything looks like,” Juliet shot back.

His gaze settled on her lips and Juliet felt her cheeks fill with unaccustomed heat. Had she actually kissed this man? It seemed impossible and yet all she had to do was look at him and her lips burned with the memory.

“I warned you to stay away from my family, Miss Madsen. And my daughter is definitely off-limits to—”

“Daddy!” Gracia exclaimed as she jumped to her feet and stared at him in horrified embarrassment. “What are you doing? Juliet is my friend and—”

Stepping forward, he placed a hand on his daughter’s slender shoulder. “Juliet is not your friend. You don’t even know the woman.”

The girl shot Juliet a wounded look, then stabbed her father with a tearful gaze.

“Juliet is my friend,” she practically shouted. “And you’re being mean and bossy! You never want me to have any friends. Never!”

Jerking away from her father, the girl took off in an awkward run toward the house. It was all Juliet could do not to race after her. The child needed comfort and understanding; two things that she obviously wasn’t going to get from this man. But it wasn’t her place to give his child solace and he’d be the first one to point that out.

“Feel good now?” Juliet quipped. “Now that you’ve gotten her away from the evil reporter?”

Matt jerked his gaze off his daughter’s retreating back to scowl at Juliet. “Damn it! See what you’ve done! It’s time for pictures and now her face is going to be all red. You’re a real piece of work,” he gritted.

Forgetting what happened the last time she got close to him, Juliet stepped right in his face. “Your daughter and I were doing just fine until you butted in. But you were so dead set on insulting me that you didn’t care whether you hurt and embarrassed her. God, what a cretin you are!”

“If I knew what that meant—”

“It means you have the mental equivalency of an idiot!” she interrupted hotly. “If you haven’t looked lately, your daughter is hurting. You ought to focus a little of your time on her instead of worrying about your family’s past skeletons!”

Once she’d blasted the words at him, she turned on her heel and began to march in the direction of her car.

Behind her, Matt yelled, “My family doesn’t have any skeletons!”

Juliet paused long enough to glance back at him. “Everyone has skeletons, Mr. Sanchez. Even you.”

Chapter Two

“I tried, Mr. Gilbert, but Mr. Sanchez practically booted me off the ranch. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t want any such stories in the paper about his family. And frankly, sir, I think you’d have a lawsuit on your hands if you did print anything containing the legend of the buried money or the old man’s murder.” Juliet tried to reason with her boss.

It was Monday morning, two days after the Sandbur wedding, and the editor of the Fannin Review was pacing around Juliet’s small office like a man possessed. He wasn’t happy about her failure to dig up personal information on the ranch’s old matriarch and the money she’d supposedly buried to keep from her husband. But then David Gilbert was never happy. Heading toward his sixtieth birthday, he was a frail man with thinning brown hair and a perpetual frown. He’d taken over the reins of the weekly newspaper from his father, who’d died unexpectedly only a few short weeks after he’d retired. From what Juliet could see, he was a man who privately wished he were anywhere but at his job.

“Let him try. Just because that family is probably the richest in Goliad County doesn’t mean he can keep the press from public information.”

Dear Lord, the man sounded as if he was running some newspaper on Capitol Hill in Washington, instead of a weekly review of small town Texas life, Juliet thought.

Sitting comfortably behind her desk, she tried not to groan out loud with disbelief. “I’m not sure his family’s money is public information, Mr. Gilbert. They just might take you to task.”

The older man stopped to toss a challenging look her way. “Just let them. I’ll be ready. In the meantime, I want you to see what else you can find about the matter. Dig through our old archives, I’m sure there will be something on Nate Ketchum’s death. Look through some of the neighboring papers, too. The murder had to have been big news back then.”

Any other time, Juliet would have been excited to be working on such a story: love, marriage, money, murder and one of the richest families in the area. Readers loved such things. But in spite of her squaring off with Matt, she’d come away from Raine Ketchum’s marriage with the impression that the Saddler and Sanchez families, co-owners of the Sandbur, were nice, genuine people. She didn’t want to hurt or anger any of them.

“I’m not sure—”

“You’d better be sure, Madsen. Our distribution numbers have been down this last quarter. We need something to grab people’s attention. So I’m giving you two weeks to get something together on this.”

“Two weeks!”

Her outcry had him walking over to her desk to stare menacingly down at her. “You don’t sound too eager about this, Madsen.”

Eager? The whole idea was making her ill. Maybe if this puny little man had to face Matt Sanchez head-on, then he wouldn’t be so quick to bark. “Well, I’m just not sure that it’s the right thing to do.”

His eyebrows shot up as though he couldn’t believe she was defying him. “Look, Madsen, you’re frankly overqualified for this job. I don’t need to pay you a journalist’s salary when I could get by with anyone with enough education to structure good sentences. If you don’t want to earn your paycheck, then you’d better head on back to the Dallas Morning News.”

And face Michael again? Never, Juliet thought. The man had been a cheating lout. He’d broken her heart. She couldn’t work in the same room with him. And she couldn’t go back and let him tempt her back into his arms. He was no good. Just like the boyfriend she’d had before him. The two guys were a big reason she’d taken this small-time job in an out-of-the-way little town. She wanted to forget all her horrid affairs of the heart.

Glancing away so that he couldn’t guess that her teeth were grinding together, she said, “I can do the job, Mr. Gilbert. I’ll have something on your desk in two weeks.”

“Good. I’ll be watching for it.”

The editor abruptly left the room and once he was out of sight, Juliet got up and firmly shut the door behind him. Damn man, she silently cursed, he knew as much about running a newspaper as she did about changing the oil in her car, which was practically nothing. The only reason he owned the paper was because he’d been an only child and his father had no one else to leave the business to. Too bad the old man hadn’t sold it, Juliet thought grimly.

Well, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t pick up her belongings and move to some other town and some other job, she told herself. But she didn’t want to. These past few months she’d been making friends and settling into a neat little house that she loved. The people were friendly—except for Matt Sanchez—and she liked the slower movement of the small town after rushing around in Dallas all her life. Besides, there was no one who was giving her a reason to live elsewhere. Her father was still in Dallas, but she got more warmth from a stranger on the street than she did from him. Her mother’s relatives were scattered throughout the northern states, but she rarely saw or spoke to them. No, she was more or less on her own and she had a right to live where she wanted. And damn Gilbert for threatening her.

Picking up her notes on the Sandbur wedding, Juliet tried to push the whole male race from her mind as she went to work at her computer.

Three hours later, when she broke for lunch, the social piece was finished, all but a few final touches, and she left the building to walk to her favorite restaurant.

The Cattle Call Café was only three blocks away. The red brick building had been built back in the eighteen sixties and was located on the main drag. On the days the livestock auction was being held on the outskirts of town, the café was always jammed with ranchers who’d come to buy or sell cattle and horses. Today the long room, filled with round wooden tables, was only moderately busy with regular townsfolk.

Juliet chose to sit at a wooden bar running along the left side of the room. Almost before her seat hit the red vinyl stool, a young woman with long brown hair and a wide smile waved to her from behind the counter.

“Hi, Juliet! I’ll be right with you.”

Angie Duncan was a single mother working her way through college. Her shift at the Cattle Call started at eleven in the morning and ended at six in the evening. Juliet didn’t know how the woman managed to stay on her feet, much less have a cheery disposition, as well.

“So how’s my best friend today?” Angie asked as she approached Juliet.

With a lukewarm smile, Juliet said, “Okay, I suppose.”

Angie made a sound of disapproval with her tongue. “Where’s that smile I always see on your face? You look like you’ve just lost your best friend. And that can’t be true, ’cause I’m here,” she teased.

Juliet tried to laugh, but the sound was garbled. “I’m fine, really, Angie. I just had a long weekend and I’d like to bang an iron skillet over my boss’s head.”

Laughing quietly, Angie pulled out her order pad. “Okay, tell me what you want for lunch and then you can tell me the rest.”

“I’d really like a big greasy cheeseburger with piles of onion rings and a vanilla shake,” Juliet told her wryly.

Grinning, Angie tapped a pencil thoughtfully against her chin. “But you’re actually going to eat a salad with unsweetened iced tea, right?”

Juliet sighed. “Yeah. Make it a grilled chicken salad.”

The waitress left to take the order to the kitchen. While she was gone, Juliet glanced around the café. Other than herself, there were only five people: two older couples and a young man drinking coffee and scanning the daily newspaper out of Victoria.

For some reason Juliet suddenly wondered if Matt Sanchez ever came to town and ate in this café. Probably not. He was from the rich set and the Cattle Call catered to the middle and lower classes of the area. Well, that was all right with her. She didn’t want to rub elbows with his sort. And she wished to heck she could quit thinking about the man. But ever since the man had kissed her, she couldn’t seem to get her mind back in its regular groove.

The swinging doors to the kitchen swished open and Juliet turned her head to see Angie returning with a tall glass of iced tea. She set it in front of Juliet, then pushed a small container with packets of sweetener toward her.

As Juliet emptied the fake sugar into the tea and stirred, the waitress propped her upper body on the counter.

“Okay. What’s the matter with old Gilbert boy? Been chasing you around the office?”

Juliet groaned. “Lord no! The man doesn’t have enough testosterone in his body for those kinds of impulses. I doubt he sleeps in the same bed with his wife.”

Angie giggled. “Lucky her.”

Juliet took a long sip from her glass. “He wants me to do a story that I don’t want to do. And when I more or less told him that I didn’t want to do it, he threatened to fire me.”

“That’s terrible. What sort of story?”

“Something personal about a family around here. He thinks it would grab readers. I think it would cause more trouble than it would be worth.”

Thankfully, Angie was prudent enough not to press her for details on the subject. Instead, she asked, “So how did the wedding go? A big deal, huh?”

Sighing heavily, Juliet nodded. “Very big. The house was overflowing with flowers. Real ones. There was live music, lots of food, champagne and dancing. I’ve never seen so many diamonds and minks in my life.”

With her chin resting on her palm, a wistful expression stole over the waitress’s face. “Gosh, can you imagine that kind of wedding? That sort of life is a fairy tale to me.”

Juliet let out a dry laugh. “Me, too.”

Angie waved a dismissive hand at her. “Don’t give me that. You’re gorgeous. It wouldn’t be any problem for you to get a rich man. That is, if you wanted one,” she added coyly.

Rolling her eyes, Juliet said, “Well, I’ve had plenty of trials and errors. I don’t want one.”

“Juliet! You—”

The waitress was going to say more but the bell at the pickup window rang and she went to fetch Juliet’s order. When she returned with the salad, Juliet asked in a casual voice, “Angie, do you know any of the Sanchezes or Saddlers?”

The woman’s brows lifted thoughtfully. “No. Not personally. I’ve seen some of them around before. Mercedes and Nicolette come in here to eat from time to time. So do Lex and Cordero.”

The four that Angie had just mentioned were all cousins. Juliet had learned that much at the wedding. She’d also learned the Sandbur was owned by two sisters, Geraldine Saddler and Elizabeth Sanchez. The latter had passed away and Geraldine was in semiretirement. It was the two women’s grown children that were now seeing after the multimillion dollar ranch.

Thoughtfully, Juliet picked up her fork and stabbed into a morsel of chicken. “But not Matt Sanchez?”

Angie shook her head. “Not on my shift. But that’s not surprising. I hear he’s something of a hermit.”

Juliet had never been one to listen to gossip, but this time she couldn’t help herself. “Really?”

“Yeah. That’s what a friend of mine who used to work on the Sandbur said. He never saw Matt leave the ranch for anything.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s a busy man.” Busy insulting women like her, she thought irritably.

“I’d say it has more to do with losing his wife. She died a few years back and everyone says he’s never been the same. ’Course, since I didn’t know him, that would be hard for me to say. I’m just telling you what I hear.” She looked curiously at Juliet. “Why were you asking about him, anyway?”

Why indeed, Juliet wondered. He should be the last thing on her mind. Instead, he was all she could think about. The whole thing was maddening.

“Oh, just curious. He was in the wedding party and he struck me as—well, different from the other men in the family.”

Angie gave her a mischievous wink. “Honey, it’s his brother, Cordero, that strikes me. He’s a hunk and then some.”

Juliet looked at her with surprise. “Why, Angie, I’ve never heard you talk about any man like that.”

The waitress shrugged one shoulder. “Well, after Jubal left me to marry the rich girl in town, I thought I’d hate the male race forever. But a woman can’t help but be attracted when the right man strolls by.”

Shaking her head, Juliet leaned forward so that only Angie could pick up her words. “Look, I’ve never met Jubal, but I have an inkling he would have never married the rich girl if he’d known you were pregnant with his child. Dear God, I’ll never understand why you didn’t tell him.”

Angie’s frown was a picture of disbelief. “I didn’t want him that way! I’ve told you that before!”

“Yes. But still, he ought to know he has a three-year-old daughter.”

Wiping a dishcloth at an invisible spot on the counter, Angie mumbled, “Maybe someday I’ll tell him.” She looked up at Juliet. “You want anything else? I gotta go warm up the Reynolds’ coffee. The old man’s looking this way.”

“I’m fine. I’ve got to finish this anyway and get back to work. Gilbert’s mad at me enough without adding fuel to the fire.”

The waitress went to tend to her other customers and Juliet hurriedly swallowed the last of her salad. While she ate, she scolded herself for giving Angie unwanted advice about Jubal. Juliet was the last person to be giving anyone advice about their love life. Since her days in college, she’d picked some real losers. And the thing that made her choices even worse was that she hadn’t realized they were losers until her heart had already been broken.

Bad judgment in men. She might as well have the phrase tattooed on her arm so that she could look down at it every day and remember how much she’d been hurting when she’d fled Dallas. That memory alone ought to be enough to make her forget about Matt Sanchez and the sizzling kiss he rocked on her lips. But so far nothing was making her forget the heated exchange with the ranch manager.

Two days later, Gilbert gave Juliet the exciting assignment of covering a birthday party at a local nursing home for a resident that was turning a hundred and three. The woman had served many years on the city council and had been a philanthropist in the area, so pictures and a short story in the paper would be expected.

That afternoon, as Juliet drove to the Sunset Manor, she asked herself, as she did many times since leaving the Dallas Morning News, if she was wasting herself in this small town with its tiny paper that consisted of mostly local social events. She was a good journalist and she’d written pieces on everything from crime to politics. But the city pace had been exhausting and the pressure to meet deadlines enough to give her stomach problems.

If she could manage to get five minutes of her father’s time, he’d tell her it was a hell of a waste to go through years of working and scraping for funds to get herself through college then wind up writing about births, deaths and weddings. But she wouldn’t take five minutes of Hugh Madsen’s time even if he would give it to her. Just as she’d not taken a dime of his money when she’d been working her way through college.