Cade Coulter's Return

The house needed a coat of paint and held an air of abandonment, its curtains drawn behind blank windows. The barn with its low cattle shed attached at one end, the granaries and machine shop were all weather-beaten. What little paint remained on the structures was peeling from the gray boards. All the buildings looked down-at-the-heels rough but Cade’s assessing gaze found no sagging rooflines. The structures appeared to be square and solid on their foundations.

Jiggs stamped and shifted, rocking the trailer on its axles and demanding attention.

Cade walked to the back of the trailer, unlocked and swung the gate wide. Jiggs looked over his shoulder and gave an impatient huff.

“Hey, boy.” Cade grinned, entering the trailer and moving past the big stud to untie him. “Little anxious to get out of here?” The horse shifted his weight and nudged Cade’s shoulder with his nose. “I don’t blame you. It’s been a long trip.”

He caught the lead rope at the halter, just under the black’s muzzle. “Back up, big guy.”

Jiggs obeyed, his hooves clattering on the wooden trailer deck. The minute all four feet were on solid ground, he shook himself and danced in a half circle at the end of the lead rope, lifting his head to look around. His ears pricked forward and he whinnied.

Cade looked over his shoulder to see what had caught Jiggs’s interest, turning fully when he saw a young woman standing just outside the open barn door, a bucket of grain in one hand. Silvery blond hair brushed the shoulders of a dark green barn coat and her brown eyes were wide, the surprise on her oval face clearly indicating she hadn’t expected to see him. She wore faded jeans beneath the bulky coat and old boots covered her feet, her walk smooth and graceful as she moved toward him.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to place her and failed. If she was a neighbor, he didn’t remember her.

And I would have remembered, he thought. Even covered by the coat and plain jeans, he could tell her body was slim and curved. Her fair skin glowed with health in the weak afternoon sunlight, her mouth lush below a small, straight nose. And her thick-lashed brown eyes were alive with intelligence, curiosity and a feminine interest mixed with wariness.

Everything male in him noticed—and liked what he saw.

“Hello,” she said, her voice slightly husky. Her gaze was fastened on his face and the small frown that veed the arch of her brows cleared as she drew nearer. “You’re one of Joseph’s sons, aren’t you.”

It wasn’t a question. The conviction in her voice was strong, mixed with the relief reflected on her face.

“I’m Cade Coulter. Who are you?”

Her eyes widened when he gave his name but she didn’t reply with her own. She seemed wholly absorbed in studying him and the open fascination in her deep brown eyes started slow heat simmering through his veins, his muscles tightening as her gaze swept slowly over his face and moved lower.

Mariah stared at the man in front of her. He was tall, easily a few inches over six feet, his shoulders broad beneath a sheepskin-lined tan coat. He wore a gray Stetson over coal-black hair and beneath the brim’s shadow, black lashes framed his deep green eyes. He wasn’t conventionally handsome but there was something essentially male, powerful and vaguely dangerous about him. His face was angular with a firm jaw, strong cheekbones, straight nose and a hard mouth.

He swept a slow, assessing look from the crown of her head to her boots and back up again. She caught her breath, awareness prickling her skin at the male heat that blazed for a brief moment in his darkened eyes before they were once again unreadable.

She realized that he’d asked her a question but she hadn’t answered, too busy drinking in his dark good looks while shivers of excitement raced over her skin. Self-conscious heat warmed her cheeks and she struggled to conceal her reaction to him.

“I’m Mariah Jones,” she told him. “I work here.”

He stared at her for a moment, those green eyes unblinking. Then he looked away, sweeping the area with a quick glance. “Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“There are only three of us—Pete Smith, J. T. Butler and me.”

“Three of you?” His voice was harsh, incredulous. “For how long?”

“I’ve been here four years,” she replied. “And J.T. about two. I’m not sure how long Pete worked for Joseph. He was here when I arrived.”

Cade let his gaze sweep over the run-down buildings once again. “No wonder this place looks like hell.”

“There aren’t enough hours in the day to keep up with everything,” she said evenly, trying to tamp down the spurt of anger caused by his comment.

He glanced at her, lifting a brow as if surprised at the thread of defensiveness in her voice. “I didn’t say there were. But this is a big ranch. Three people aren’t enough manpower to do more than barely keep this place running.” He flicked another glance over the buildings. “Where are the other two?”

“Pete went to town for mail and groceries. J.T. isn’t due home from school for another couple of hours.”

“School? How old is he?”

“Seventeen.”

He swore under his breath and glared at her.

“How old is Smith?”

“Sixty-five.”

“A kid, a guy on Social Security and a girl. What the hell was the old man thinking?”

“If you’re referring to your father, I suspect he was doing the best he could with what he had,” she said, an unmistakable snap in her tone.

He gave her another dark, unreadable look. “Yeah, I expect he was.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through thick black hair, raking it from his forehead in a frustrated gesture.

Mariah had seen Joseph make that same gesture a hundred times, and the likeness between father and son was suddenly sharpened.

Cade turned away and led the big horse to the corral. Yanking the lock bar free, he swung open the gate and walked the horse in, unsnapping the lead rope to set the animal loose. The stallion immediately trotted to the water trough and hay rack on the far side of the enclosure.

“I’m heading into town to talk to the attorney,” Cade told her as he unhitched the horse trailer from the dusty truck. “I should be back in a couple of hours.” He yanked open the pickup door and paused. “I’ve been on the road for days and I’m tired of restaurant food. Does anyone cook around here?”

“We take turns. Supper’s on the table in the bunkhouse at six. Tonight it’s chili.”

“I’ll be here.” The engine turned over and the pickup rolled forward, swinging in a U-turn.

Moments later, Mariah stood alone next to the empty horse trailer, watching a plume of dust rise behind the truck’s wheels as it sped down the gravel lane toward the highway.

So that’s Joseph’s oldest son. Mariah wasn’t sure exactly what she’d expected but the hard-eyed, dangerous-looking man bore only a passing resemblance to the laughing ten-year-old boy in the family portrait hanging on Joseph’s wall.

And when his green eyes had briefly flickered with heat after that first slow, assessing stare, she’d burned. The brush of his gaze was as physically arousing as if he’d reached out and slowly trailed his fingers over her bare skin, from her chin to her toes and back again.

She hadn’t expected to be attracted to Cade Coulter.

It was a complication she didn’t want. And it was sure to cause trouble, she thought with conviction. She’d simply have to set aside her attraction, she told herself, and focus on her promise to Joseph that she would do everything she could to encourage his sons to remain on the Triple C. She was determined to fulfill her vow and see Joseph’s last wish come true.

With renewed determination, she turned on her heel and walked toward the bunkhouse. She needed to start the chili simmering. She had only a few short hours until dinner—and Cade’s return.

Chapter Two

A half hour after driving away from the Triple C, a beaming receptionist ushered Cade into Ned Anderson’s office. The attorney rose and leaned over the gleaming surface of his desk to shake Cade’s hand.

“I don’t mind saying I’m damn glad to see you, Cade.” The attorney waved him to a seat in one of the leather armchairs facing the desk and dropped back into his own chair. “I was beginning to wonder whether we’d be able to locate you and your brothers.”

“How long have you been looking?” Cade asked, curious.

“Ever since Joseph passed away.” Anderson peered at Cade over the tops of reading glasses, his eyes shrewd. “I assumed he had current addresses for all of you but discovered too late that he didn’t. Do you have any up-to-date contact information for your brothers?”

“Yes.” Cade took his cell phone from his coat pocket. “I can give you their cell phone numbers and last known addresses.”

The attorney jotted notes on a pad as Cade read off Zach, Eli and Brodie’s information. “Excellent,” he said with satisfaction when Cade finished. “I’ll pass this on to the investigator immediately. Hopefully he’ll be able to talk to them all within a day or two.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I left messages on all their cell phones as soon as I got your letter. That was five days ago and none of them have checked in.”

Anderson frowned. “Why not?”

Cade shrugged. “Hard to say. It’s not unusual to wait awhile for an answer.”

“How long is ‘awhile’?”

“Depends on where everyone is.” Cade noted the attorney’s lack of comprehension. “None of us spends a lot of time in one place,” he explained. “Brodie’s a champion bull rider and follows the rodeo circuit—usually rents an apartment in a different place each year after the season ends. Eli’s a silversmith—sometimes he rents a studio but often apprentices with another artist. When he’s studying, he might spend a year or more living near the master teacher’s studio. And Zach …” Cade paused, a half-smile curving his lips. “Actually, Zach’s the one we use to keep in touch. He works for a company in San Francisco and bought a condo there years ago. He travels a lot for his job, though, and since I haven’t heard from him, I’m guessing he’s not in San Francisco right now.”

“So you have no idea how long it may take to reach them?”

Cade shook his head. “No.”

The attorney sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. His chair squeaked as he leaned back. “That complicates matters.”

“Why?” Cade asked bluntly.

“Because the Triple C is barely holding on by its fingertips and only you four Coulters can save it.”

Cade’s gaze narrowed as he straightened in his chair. “I don’t understand.”

The attorney sat forward, took a thick file from a stack on the corner of his desk and flipped it open. He sifted through documents before sliding a sheaf of papers across the desk. “This is a copy of your father’s last will and testament. You’ll want to read it carefully, but briefly I can tell you that, with one exception, Joseph left everything he owned to you and your three brothers.”

Stunned, Cade stared at Anderson for a moment before picking up the document.

“You’ll notice on page three,” Anderson continued, “that Joseph left the Triple C to all of you in one-fourth shares. He also left each of you control of individual aspects of the ranch. In your case, he left you all the cattle and any other livestock. You have the power to sell any of them you want. But you can’t sell the land. None of you can sell any of the Triple C acres without express consent, in writing, of the other three.”

If Cade didn’t have the will in front of him, he wouldn’t have believed Anderson. But the document was clear. He scanned the typed pages quickly, stopping abruptly when he reached page five.

“He left my grandparents’ cabin and three acres to Mariah Jones?” The quick flash of anger echoed in his words.

“Yes.” Anderson didn’t flinch from Cade’s hard stare. “Joseph died of cancer. Mariah Jones took care of him, and it was my observation that he viewed her as a daughter.”

“I’ll bet he did.” Cade’s growled response held sarcasm. He didn’t believe any man, even one Joseph’s age, could look at the blonde and not see a beautiful, sexy woman. He tossed the will onto the desk in front of him. “That cabin sits within yards of the barn and is part of Triple C headquarters, plus it’s landlocked and surrounded by Coulter land. Is there a way to break the will and keep it part of the ranch?”

“No,” Anderson replied. “A clause provides any heir challenging any part of the will shall have their portion of the estate gifted to the State of Montana’s park system.”

Cade frowned, silently considering the problem before deciding to shelve it for the moment. Not that he believed there wasn’t a way to keep the cabin in Coulter hands, nor that Mariah Jones hadn’t somehow manipulated Joseph to convince him to leave her the valuable property. The cabin was important not only because of its location—his grandfather had built it with his own hands. It was part of Coulter history and he’d find a way to reclaim it. “You said the ranch is hanging on by its fingertips. What do you mean?” he asked, returning to the larger issue of the Triple C.

“There are no cash assets. Joseph was increasingly ill for several years and medical bills ate up what cash he had. The ranch itself has been maintained but not at optimum level.”

Cade nodded. “I went to the Triple C before coming here. I’ve seen the buildings though I haven’t closely assessed them.”

“Then you have some idea of what you’re up against,” Ned replied. He slid another document across the desktop to Cade. “This is information about the inheritance taxes. As you can see, they’re substantial and are the most pressing problem you and your brothers will have. Unless any of you are independently wealthy and have the means to pay them?” he added, a hopeful note in his voice.

The total tax dollars owed was staggering.

“No,” Cade replied. “We’re all solvent but I doubt any of us has that kind of money.”

“Then you’ll have to work together to find a way to make the ranch earn enough to pay the taxes.” Ned eyed Cade.

“It’ll take a damned miracle,” Cade told him.

“Perhaps.” The attorney replied.

“Is there anything else I need to know right now?” Cade asked.

“I think you have the basics.”

“Then I’ll head back to the ranch.” Cade stood and held out his hand, shaking the attorney’s as he stood. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Good. And Cade …”

Cade paused at the doorway to look back at Anderson.

“Welcome home.”

Cade nodded and left the office.

Barely two hours after he’d left Mariah in the ranch yard, Cade drove out of Indian Springs and headed back to the Triple C. His discussion with the attorney about the details of his father’s estate had raised more questions than answers.

Given the long estrangement between Cade, his brothers and their father, Cade hadn’t expected any of them to receive much, if anything, from his estate. To his surprise, Joseph Coulter had left nearly everything he owned to his four sons in approximately equal shares.

But the Triple C had barely been making ends meet before Joseph’s death, Cade thought grimly, and there was a good chance his sons would lose the vast acres to taxes and debt.

And just to add to the complicated mess his father had left for his sons to sort out, Joseph had given his grandparents’ cabin to Mariah Jones. The house and its acre of surrounding land edged the creek bank and sat within view of the main ranch house, just beyond the barn and outbuildings. The blonde also had a legal right to use the lane to the highway.

Unless he could find a way to break that part of his father’s will, Cade was stuck with having Mariah living on the ranch permanently.

It was almost six o’clock and full dark when he reached the Triple C. His headlights arced over the corral and barn before he parked in front of the bunkhouse where warm lamplight poured through the windows. At the main house across the ranch yard, only the solitary porch light glowed, throwing the ends of the deep porch into shadow.

Cade climbed the shallow steps to the bunkhouse and entered without knocking.

The three people seated at the table in the kitchen area all looked up. Two men, one older and one kid, sat with Mariah, whose hair gleamed silver in the light. Her brown eyes widened before her expression shuttered.

“Evening,” Cade said, hanging his hat on a hook next to the door and shrugging out of his coat.

“Hello.” Mariah pushed back her chair and walked to the stove. She picked up potholders, pausing to look over her shoulder. “J.T., Pete, this is Cade Coulter.”

The two stood as Cade joined them.

“Evenin’, boss.” The elderly cowboy was lean and rangy, shoulders slightly stooped. A white shock of hair covered his head and bright blue eyes were shrewd under heavy eyebrows. His lined face with its craggy nose and strong chin held character and gave testimony to a lifetime of working outside in Montana weather.

“Evening, boss.” The kid’s greeting copied the older man’s right down to the inflection and polite neutrality. He was equally tall and rangy except his shoulders were square, straight with youth. His dark blond hair was a shade too long and brushed his collar in back, his navy blue eyes cool and unreadable as they met Cade’s. He wore faded jeans, cowboy boots and a ripped but clean plaid flannel shirt that hung unbuttoned over a black T-shirt. The tee had a faded rock band logo with the words “hell-raiser” centered on his chest.

The three men shook hands, murmured polite hellos, before they all sat down. Cade caught a glimpse of a tattoo just beneath the edge of the shirt’s worn neckline as J.T. sat.

The kid’s got attitude, Cade thought. I wonder if he’s any good at working on a ranch.

“Corn bread is on the plate, under the cover.” Mariah set a steaming bowl of chili in front of Cade, nodding at the red gingham covered dish in the center of the table.

“Thanks.” Cade breathed in a faint floral scent as she leaned closer to lower the bowl before she moved away. He felt his muscles tighten and he had to restrain the urge to watch the sway of her hips encased in faded jeans. She wore a sweater with a high neck, her hair a spill of silvery blond against the bright red wool. She was covered from head to toe in boots, jeans and wool sweater yet she drew his attention like a magnet.

“Careful, the bowl’s hot,” she commented before she returned to her seat across the table.

They ate in silence, emptying their bowls and the plate of corn bread. Pete carried his china and utensils to the sink and returned with a thermal carafe of coffee, gnarled fingers holding the handles of four mugs. He poured and passed around filled mugs without saying a word.

“Thanks.” Cade sipped his coffee and leaned back in the wooden chair. “Suppose you all bring me up-to-date on what’s been happening here.” He glanced around the table. “Who’s in charge of the cattle?”

“I guess that would be me,” Pete said in his gravelly voice. “Though we all pitch in with fixing fences or moving a herd when necessary.”

“How many cow-calf pairs was Dad running? How many steers? And how many did you lose over the winter?”

Pete quoted numbers that surprised Cade. “That’s more cattle than I’d expected, especially with just three full-time hands.”

“Two full-time hands,” Pete corrected him. “Mariah only works here part-time.”

Cade’s eyes narrowed over the slender female. She met his gaze without comment. He couldn’t help wondering why Joseph had left a valuable house to a part-time employee. Cynicism told him there had to be a reason and more than likely, the answer wouldn’t make him happy or reflect favorably on the pretty blonde. He shifted in his seat, annoyed that he was attracted to the woman who may have conned and used his father.

“And Mariah is most likely the reason we’ve got such a low loss rate,” Pete said with pride. “She keeps track of the baby calves and makes sure they survive the first few weeks. She usually ropes J.T. into helping her so I guess he deserves some of the credit, too.”

“My thanks to you both.” Cade’s words only brought a nod of acceptance from Mariah but the teenager shifted in his seat, faint streaks of red marking his cheekbones, clearly uncomfortable with both Pete’s praise and Cade’s thanks.

“What about other livestock?” Cade queried.

“There’s not much,” Pete told him. “A few saddle horses, a mule or two, and some chickens Joseph kept for the eggs.”

Cade considered the news. “So what you’re telling me is that the ranch is running cattle, but not much else?”

Pete exchanged glances with Mariah and J.T., then nodded.

“What about field crops? I noticed alfalfa bales stacked and tarped in the flat next to the creek this afternoon. Was Dad planting oats or rye in the fields bordering the highway?”

“Joseph stopped planting anything but alfalfa several years ago,” Pete told him. “Said he just couldn’t keep up with the work and he’d rather raise cattle.”

Cade wondered how long the old man had been sick but didn’t ask. “And the Kigers? Are they still on Tunk Mountain?”

Pete, J.T. and Mariah all wore identical expressions of blank confusion.

“The Kigers?” J.T. repeated, stressing the last word rhyming with tiger as if the word were part of a foreign language. “What are Kigers?”

“Mustangs,” Cade said. “My mother bred and raised them.”

Pete shrugged. “I never heard Joseph mention them. Ain’t never been to Tunk Mountain, either. We kept the cattle closer to home.” He frowned. “Don’t remember chasing cattle on Tunk Mountain for roundup, either, come to think of it.” His shrewd blue eyes fixed on Cade. “If Joseph had a herd of horses on the mountain, he kept it a secret.”

Cade shrugged. “Maybe he sold them years ago.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, boss,” Pete began, “we were wondering what plans you have for the Triple C?”

“I’ll try to hold it together and pay the bills until my brothers are located and can get here,” he said brusquely, his tone grim. He hadn’t missed the tension that instantly gripped all three when Pete asked his question. He wasn’t going to lie or sugarcoat the truth. They’d stayed on the ranch without wages when they could have sought work elsewhere and they deserved nothing less than his honesty. “From what the attorney told me about the ranch’s financial situation, that won’t be easy.”

“And what happens when your brothers arrive?” Mariah asked.

“I guess we’ll decide if we’re going to sell out or try to hold the Triple C permanently.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll check on Jiggs and head up to the house.”

“If Jiggs is the black, I fed and watered him, then put him in a stall in the barn,” J.T. told him. “He’s not a quarterhorse, is he?”

“He’s Andalusian,” Cade explained. “I brought him home with me from Spain.” The look on the kid’s face told Cade that he was burning to ask questions, probably lots of questions, but Cade wasn’t in the mood to give him answers. He shoved back his chair and stood, carrying his bowl and utensils to the sink before recrossing the room to collect his hat and coat.

“The attorney told me the estate hasn’t paid salaries since the old man died,” Cade said as he shrugged into his coat. “I’ll have to look at the books before paying you whatever salary you’re owed but if anyone needs an advance for the next few days, I have cash.”

Relief lit the two men’s expressions.

“I’m almost out of pipe tobacco. I could use fifty,” Pete told him.

“Me, too,” J.T. added.

“I can wait until you’ve had time to review the payroll accounts,” Mariah said. “They’re on Joseph’s desk in his office.”

Cade nodded and took out his wallet, counting out bills before handing them to Pete and J.T.

“Who’s been doing the bookkeeping?” he asked, sweeping a glance over the three.