Maddie Inherits a Cowboy

For a moment he and Madeline simply stared at each other

She waited for him to say something. What? What the hell could he say? He didn’t even know what to think right now.

The snow was melting into her hair, dampening it, making it start to curl. And then, when he was about to go back to the house—to a nightmare, no doubt—she said softly, “Have you ever heard of forgiveness, Ty?”

He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He turned and walked away, leaving Madeline alone in the snow.

Dear Reader,

New York professor Madeline Blaine is a woman on a mission. The Nevada ranch she inherited two years ago isn’t making money and she’s determined to discover the reason why. Madeline doesn’t know the first thing about ranching, but she fully intends to educate herself—on site. Ty Hopewell, her inherited ranching partner, has no idea how greatly his life is going to change once by-the-book Madeline arrives at the Lone Summit Ranch.

I love taking characters out of their comfort zones, and when Madeline arrives at the ranch, she not only has to learn about the realities of ranching—she has to learn how to manage without electricity for several hours a day, since the ranch generates its own power. This is a circumstance with which I am familiar, having lived off the grid for sixteen years. There are definite pluses to generating your own power, but there are also a few minuses. Generators, like automobiles, break down at the most inopportune moments. I’ve celebrated every major holiday without power because of generator malfunction—no lights, no water and, on one occasion, no turkey. On the plus side, my kids spent more time playing in the creek than watching television while growing up.

I had a great time writing about Madeline and Ty, and I hope you enjoy reading their story. I love to hear from readers, so please drop me a line at [e-mail] or visit my website, www.jeanniewatt.com.

Happy reading,

Jeannie Watt

Maddie Inherits a Cowboy

Jeannie Watt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jeannie Watt lives off the grid in the heart of Nevada ranching country. She and her husband share their acreage with horses and ponies, a dog, a cat and a wide assortment of wildlife. When she first moved to her off-the-grid locale she knew nothing about generators, but because the ancient propane-powered beast always acted up while her husband was at work, she learned. Before long she could change the oil and swap out points, plug and condenser in less than twenty minutes and was the family generator expert—the one the kids called when the generator sounded “funny.” Now she has a new, more dependable generator, which she has wisely refused to learn about, leaving maintenance and care solely to her husband. So far, so good…but she dreams of solar power.

To my kids,

who grew up with the power going off whenever their parents decided to go to bed.

To Roger,

who would drop everything and come to my mechanical rescue when I got in over my head.

Thank you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER ONE

IT CAME UPON A midnight clear…

As soon as Ty Hopewell heard the familiar voice and recognized the opening bars of the song, he made a conscious effort to focus on his breathing, on the people passing in front of where he sat in the lobby of the Nugget Hotel and Casino. On anything except that song. He hadn’t lived in the boonies for so long that he’d forgotten the day after Thanksgiving was the kickoff of the Christmas season. But he’d forgotten that every public place in Reno seemed to play music.

That glorious song of old…

Ty swallowed and then drew in a breath. He could do this. He could sit here and wait for his appointment. Or he thought he could, until he made the mistake of closing his eyes.

From angels bending near the earth…

Instantly he was lying on the frozen ground, disoriented and in pain. The truck was on its side, the cab caved in, the headlights cutting through the darkness at an angle that was just plain wrong.

The truck’s front wheel slowly spun.

Bing Crosby sang.

For a moment it had been too much to process, and then he’d realized that the radio in the demolished truck was still playing. Somehow. Bing’s rendition of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” was the only sound in the cold desert night, so out of place in the aftermath of a violent wreck.

And then there had been another sound—his own voice screaming for his friend, demanding that Skip answer him….

Ty opened his eyes and got to his feet. He’d go outside, away from the music, to collect himself. Great plan, but he hadn’t taken more than two steps when he saw her crossing the casino lobby. Madeline Blaine. Skip’s sister.

It had to be her, since the time was exactly ten and she was wearing black slacks, a short red jacket and a black-and-white-checked scarf, exactly as she’d described on the phone the day before. She zeroed in on him, although she had no way of knowing what he looked like, and made a beeline toward him. Ty took off his hat as she approached.

“You must be Mr. Hopewell,” she said briskly, extending her hand before he had a chance to speak. He took it briefly, knowing his own hand was probably ice-cold. It was the first time he’d met any of Skip’s relatives. The funeral had taken place back east, where Skip had grown up.

“Yes. I’m Ty.”

“Madeline.”

He was struck by how little she looked like Skip. Her hair was straight and dark, while Skip’s had been light brown and wavy. Her eyes were green; his had been brown. And Skip had been a big guy. His sister was on the small side, her features delicate. The only similarities he could see were the distinctive high cheekbones and fair skin. Skin that tended to fry under the Nevada sun. Skip had been forever sunburned.

She gestured at the chair where he’d been sitting a few seconds before. Ty obligingly sat and she took the chair kitty-corner to his, so they could face each other. Obviously Ms. Blaine was going to run this meeting. Ty just wanted it to be over. Hell, he wished he knew what it was about—and he wished Bing would shut up already, but the singer geared up for another verse.

Peace on the earth, goodwill to…

Ty ran a finger around the inside of his collar and Madeline Blaine tilted her head as she appraised him, a slight frown drawing her dark eyebrows together. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Except for the guilt that was crushing him as Bing sang. Technically, Skip’s death had been an accident, but one that clearly could have been avoided if Ty hadn’t been so damned stubborn.

He’d reached the point after twenty-three months where he didn’t think about it as much—sometimes he could go several oblivious days at a time. But when he did think about Skip’s death, it ate at him.

He looked into Madeline Blaine’s clear green eyes, having no doubt about what had triggered him today. He hadn’t been looking forward to this meeting with Skip’s sister, and Bing hadn’t helped matters.

He cleared his throat. “Ms. Blaine—”

“Dr. Blaine.”

Oh-kay. She was a professor of anthropology at a small university somewhere in New York, but he hadn’t realized he had to use her title. “Dr. Blaine.”

“Madeline.”

Ty took a deep breath. “I hope you didn’t fly out here just to meet with me.”

“Why else would I have come?” She spoke quickly, with unexpected defensiveness. Ty was a guy who watched people and picked up signals. The signal he was getting here he didn’t quite understand.

“I thought you might have plans to do something else, to have some fun while you’re here.” Fun. Shit. Yeah, she should have fun while on a trip to settle her brother’s estate. “What I mean is that there’s stuff to do here in Reno.”

Madeline sat a little taller. “I came to meet with you,” she said, clasping her hands together. “About the ranch, as I’m sure you’ve surmised. The reasons we’re losing money.”

“We broke even this quarter,” Ty pointed out. And they’d had this same discussion on the phone more than once. He understood her impatience, but the cattle market wasn’t exactly booming right now—although organic beef was doing better than regular beef.

What he didn’t understand was how flying across the country to meet with him face-to-face was going to help. To use the guilt factor perhaps? No matter how guilty he felt, it wouldn’t make the cattle sales rebound any faster than they were.

But…whatever.

“The market is better than it was six months ago, yet that’s not reflected in the ranch profits,” Madeline said.

“There are things you need to understand.” Things he’d thought he’d explained before, but for some reason Madeline wasn’t getting it. “I’ve had to sink money into the ranch—money Skip would have had to sink into the ranch—to keep the infrastructure intact.” He’d refenced the property and reroofed the barn, eradicated weeds, worked on the roads. The ranch wasn’t in bad shape, but that was only because of the hours he’d put in after the accident, trying to forget the unforgettable.

Madeline nodded. Old news.

“Feed costs are up.” Which was a double killer when cattle prices were down.

“I thought you raised your own hay,” she said coolly.

“Not enough to feed the entire herd over the winter,” Ty replied, still wondering why they were having this discussion in the lobby. Yet another carol played in the background. But at least this way they could get the meeting over with and Madeline could go about her business, whatever it might be. There was no way she’d flown across the country only to meet with him in a casino lobby.

“Then perhaps you need to plant more hay,” Madeline said reasonably, as if pointing out a solution that had escaped him. But there was something in the tone of her voice that made Ty shift in his chair.

“The fields can only be irrigated during the spring because of the power and water situation, so that limits the amount of hay we can grow. And living off the grid, generating our own power, is expensive, what with ongoing generator maintenance and repairs and fuel.”

She leaned back, studying him for a moment before saying, “I want to see the ranch.”

Ty frowned. If he had known that, he would have sent photos. Real photos. The ones Skip had posted on his social websites had been misleading. They hadn’t exactly shown anything except a spectacular view and cattle in the field. He’d probably sent his family the same pictures.

“In person,” she added, reading his mind.

If Ty’s teeth hadn’t been clenched so tightly, his jaw would have dropped. “It’s a five-hour drive.”

“I’ve leased a car.”

Leased? As opposed to rented? He felt a knot tightening in his stomach. “Look, Ms…. Dr….” Ty gave up. “It’s your right to come look at it, but I don’t see how it’s going to help. It’s a long trip and then you’ll just have to turn around and drive another hour and a half back to the closest town for the night.”

“I plan to stay on the ranch.”

Somehow he managed to say, “Why?” rather than “Are you nuts?”

Madeline pulled her shoulders back, making her posture even more upright. “Because I want to know exactly what’s going on. I want to see how the operation runs and try to figure out why it isn’t making money. Skip was no fool. If he went in with you, then the business, the property, must have had merit.”

She was correct. Skip was no fool. But he’d been a romantic and thoroughly swept up in the cowboy mystique. Organic beef raised in an isolated environment off the grid appealed to him. “The property is good for what we wanted.”

“Yet according to you, the property itself is part of the reason you’re not making money.”

“That and the market,” he said grimly. He rested his forearms on his thighs, holding the brim of his black felt hat between his fingers as he met her eyes.

“The problems you’ve outlined are all problems Skip was dealing with when he was alive, and yet the ranch made money…then.”

It was the way she emphasized the word then that finally clued Ty in.

“The ranch will make a profit again,” he replied in a low voice, his expression stony.

Madeline drew in a breath through her nose, the action eloquently conveying her feelings on the matter, and Ty’s back went up. He wasn’t used to being treated as if he was trying to pull a fast one. A guy who’d caused an accident that had killed his friend, yes, but not a con artist.

He twisted his mouth as he debated, then he looked straight into her eyes and asked, “Did you fly here to accuse me of cheating you out of your half of the profits?”

She eyed him coolly. “Either that or mismanagement.”

“Your accountant has the books.”

She said nothing, but he could practically hear her asking, “Which set?”

He stood then, his hat in his hand. Reminding himself of her loss, of his culpability, he tried to hold in his temper. But Madeline Blaine didn’t appear to be suffering over the loss of Skip. She seemed a lot more concerned about getting cash from the ranch. Well, that was her right. He owed her.

He also didn’t like her.

“I’m not ripping you off.”

She ignored the edge to his voice, which was a mistake.

“Unlike my brother, I tend to see the reality of situations without romanticizing them. I’m going to the ranch. I’m going to spend some time there and when I’m done, I’ll know whether I need to audit, sell or hire someone to run my part of the business. Efficiently.”

“Good luck with that,” he said abruptly. Ty wasn’t easily insulted, but this woman was taking wild swings at his integrity. “Keep me posted.” Then he started for the stairs to the parking garage.

“Wait.” He stopped and turned back. She was still standing next to the leather chairs. “You need to show me how to get there.”

Ty stared at her for a second, then shook his head and started walking again. “You may as well show me,” she said, catching up to him. “I’m going to spend the next several weeks there.” She spoke as if he were foolish to ignore obvious logic.

“Then you’d better bring some food, lady, because I’m not sharing.”

CHAPTER TWO

MADELINE WATCHED Ty Hopewell walk away, every inch the cowboy in his jeans, boots and burgundy wool jacket. And how appropriate that he wore a black hat over his dark hair. She didn’t trust him. Not for one minute.

Skip had thought the world of him, but there was something fishy going on here. Why would the ranch make a decent profit right up until Skip’s death? Her accountant had pointed out the vast amount of money Ty was pouring back into the ranch, which cut the profits down to nothing, but neither of them knew whether the expenditures were necessary…or even happening.

Madeline lived two thousand miles away. Ty could say he was doing a lot of things, but whether or not he was—that was the question. If he was benefiting from her brother’s death and cheating her in the process, it was going to stop. If he merely stank at managing the place, that had to be addressed as well, and thanks to an unfortunate twist of fate, she was free to look into the matter.

At least some small bit of good would come from her suspension.

Her temples throbbed at the thought. Madeline was a consummate rule-follower, and being suspected of illegally misappropriating data in her boss’s groundbreaking study was killing her. There was nothing she could do until the formal investigation was completed, except to drive her legal counsel, Everett, crazy, so here she was. With Everett’s blessing and wishes of Godspeed, she’d decided to channel her considerable energies into understanding exactly why her inheritance was no longer making money.

And…if she chose to take the chicken’s way out, to lie low at the ranch until this brouhaha at work was over, so what? She owned half the blasted property. She was entitled.

She stalked back through the lobby, past the Starbucks with green metallic garlands strung along the counter, past the reception desk with the tasteful winter floral arrangements. Christmas music played over the speaker system, music that always made her feel closer to Skip. He’d died on Christmas Eve, and sometimes it was almost as if he was speaking to her through the songs.

Tidings of comfort and joy…

She didn’t feel much joy, but she did feel comfort.

Or she had until her confrontation with Ty.

Where was he now? Leaving the parking garage on his way to “the ranch”? The place didn’t even have a name, as far as she knew. Having been born and raised in Syracuse, she wasn’t all that ranch savvy, but didn’t all ranches have names? The Lazy M or the Flying L or some such thing?

Skip would have known. Skip had not only thrown himself into studying the West, he’d thrown himself into the culture. He’d been bound and determined to be a cowboy.

Madeline swallowed a lump in her throat as the elevator doors slid open. She pushed the key card into the slot and then punched in her floor number. Every now and then grief still hit her, but she’d been expecting it this time because of the circumstances. She wished for the zillionth time that Skip had never met Ty Hopewell, had never gone into the cattle business with him.

At first she’d blamed Ty for Skip’s death, but after studying the accident report had concluded, as had the highway patrol, that it was simply an unfortunate accident involving a cow on a dark highway. Eventually she’d shoved her feelings of blame aside. Skip was gone. She could honor him best by enjoying the memories she had of him.

The doors opened and she walked down the hall to her room to gather her bags and check out. The only reason she wasn’t hot on Ty Hopewell’s tail right now was because she wasn’t the type who left her key in the room and had her invoice emailed to her. No. She liked to check out in person, examine the bill and then leave with a hard copy in her hand. No mistakes that way.

She sat on the edge of the bed, then after a few seconds lay back on the brocade bedcover, her feet still hanging over the side, toes dangling above the floor. Her no-mistakes era was over. She stared up at the ceiling, not caring for once if she wrecked her perfectly flatironed hair. She’d tried so hard not to make errors in any area of her life. To cross her t’s and dot her i’s. To cover her ass and more than that, to make certain she never had anything to cover her ass for. And what happened?

Her trusted mentor was accused of academic misconduct that threatened federal funding to Wilcox University, that’s what. And, as Dr. Jensen’s former associate, she was being sucked into the undertow.

Madeline hadn’t been involved—she’d known nothing about the blood samples Dr. Jensen had used without permission for research into the origins of indigenous peoples—but she’d worked so closely with him on his previous projects that she had to be investigated, too. Or at least that was the explanation given when she’d been put on leave. Madeline didn’t buy it for a second.

It was obvious to her that the new anthropology department head, Dr. Vanessa Mann, was indulging in revenge, since Madeline had the unfortunate tendency to speak out when she disagreed with policies and procedures. As soon as she’d taken over the department, Dr. Mann had begun emphasizing research over education. Research brought in money, but the college was supposed to educate, for heaven’s sake. It was absolutely wrong to have the majority of classes taught by graduate students and teaching assistants while the tenured professors holed up in their offices….

Madeline stopped herself.

She’d felt safe speaking out since she’d had justified concerns. The result? Well, she was living the result. Someone else was teaching her classes. Someone else was guiding her graduate students. And Dr. Mann had made it look like a necessary action that had been taken as part of an important investigation.

Madeline squeezed her eyes shut, felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Even after two weeks she was so damned embarrassed.

She forced her eyes open again.

She needed to pack. She needed to figure out how to get to this ranch with no name. She had a full day ahead of her and no time to feel sorry for herself.

EVERY NOW AND THEN Ty found himself glancing into the rearview mirror and checking the traffic behind him on the freeway to see if he was being followed. Which was ridiculous, since he’d been on the interstate within five minutes of leaving the annoying Dr. Blaine in the lobby of the Nugget. There was no way she was on his tail, and even if she was, he had no idea what she was driving, so he couldn’t have spotted her, anyway.

I’m going to stay on the ranch…. His lips twisted. For a night maybe. Until reality set in. She didn’t look like the type who would embrace life off the grid. He’d made a tactical error, though, by letting his anger get the best of him, and walking away. He should have let her follow him to the ranch, see what the property was like, assure herself that there was a ranch—that he wasn’t embezzling funds or equipment or pretending to buy things he hadn’t.

But when she’d pretty much said he was either dishonest or stupid, with those Christmas carols playing in the background…well…he wasn’t at the top of his game. So what now? They were still business partners. He couldn’t exactly go back and find her. But he could call her. Apologize for being insulted by her unfounded insinuations. Try to do some damage control.

Hell. Whatever it took to get this issue settled. He fumbled for his phone as he drove, but when he dialed her number, there was no answer. He dropped the phone back on the seat beside him. Oh, well. He’d tried. Ty glanced in the mirror again, caught himself, cursed and focused on the road ahead.

The turnoff to Fallon was coming soon. Three more hours and he’d be home. Hell of a long drive to make, only to be pissed off. Now he had to consider what he was going to do when Madeline showed up, because, barring a blizzard—which to his disappointment wasn’t in the offing—he had no doubt she’d find her way to the ranch.

Skip had often spoken of his sister’s tenacity in a fond way. Ty was going to experience that tenacity up close and personal.

AFTER A FEW MINUTES on the internet, using the geographical coordinates from the legal documents, Madeline had both a map and the name of the road the ranch was on. Lone Sum Road. She stared at the screen, wondering if she was looking at a typo or if this was Western cleverness. Lone Sum. Lonesome?

Whatever.

She printed the map on her portable printer and then loaded her bags on the folding luggage dolly she never traveled without. Some of her associates teased her about the tubular steel device on wheels—but never when they were battling their own luggage.

Madeline’s larger suitcases were still in the car. She hadn’t bothered to bring them in, since she’d assumed she’d be following Ty Hopewell to the ranch. After making her suspicions known, she hadn’t expected him to be enthusiastic, but she hadn’t expected him to simply drive away, either.

Which left the question of whether he’d merely been insulted by her direct approach or did he have something to hide?