Samantha's Cowboy

“I appreciate your help. My brother Matt is getting married next Saturday and there’s a lot going on right now.”

Better her brother than Wade. He tore a piece of paper from his legal pad. “Where’s the property located?”

“Southeast of the Lazy River on Route 38. It’s the old Peterson farmstead. There’s a mailbox at the entrance with the name painted on it.” She stood, her pretty chocolate eyes skipping over him. “You’ll inform me when you receive the well estimates?”

“What’s your cell number?” A lengthy pause followed and Wade wondered if Samantha was worried that he’d call her asking for a date—fat chance of that happening. Women like Samantha Cartwright were out of his league. He scribbled the number she recited beneath the directions to the ranch, then handed her one of his business cards. “In case you need to get in touch with me.”

Their fingers bumped, and an electrical pulse shot up Wade’s arm. Samantha grasped the note, spun on her boot heels and walked out the door. Wade shook his arm to dispel the tingling sensation, certain he suffered from a pinched nerve. Samantha Cartwright was a beautiful woman but she was a client and therefore off-limits.

How had twenty million dollars vanished into thin air?

He had a week to recover Samantha’s funds or he might as well kiss his promotion goodbye.

Chapter Two

When Sam exited the building, Dave the security guard drove up in her truck, radio blaring. As soon as he spotted her, he cut the music, left the engine running and hopped out. “Nice ride.”

“Nice valet service.”

He grinned. “Anytime.”

With a wave, Sam pulled away from the curb and merged into downtown traffic. Not until she stopped at a light did she remember to turn on the GPS system. She hated driving in the city and had difficulty remembering street names and exit ramps. She tapped the screen until the favorites menu popped up. She hit Home, then concentrated on navigating traffic. After a few minutes she relaxed her grip on the wheel and merged onto I-75, passing the defunct Indian Nations Amusement Park. A few miles later she took Highway 67 to 64, breathing a sigh of relief as Tulsa faded in the rearview mirror. She flipped open her cell phone and pressed 4. Her brother’s voice mail answered.

“Hey, Matt. It’s me, Sam. I have a surprise. Meet me at the Peterson homestead on Route 38. I’m forty minutes from there. But don’t tell anyone, okay? Bye.”

Sam wanted Matt to be the first to learn of her plans. They were as close as any brother and sister could be. He’d been there for her in the darkest hours when horrifying memories of her accident had tortured her sleep. To this day not even her father knew about the nightmares.

And if she had her way, her father would never learn about her visit to Dawson Investments. The meeting with Wade lingered in Sam’s mind, frustrating her more than Wade’s uncle neglecting to return her phone calls. Concentrating had been difficult in Wade’s presence and she worried she’d made a fool of herself. That she couldn’t remember meeting him years earlier bothered her. He must have visited the ranch around her sixteenth birthday—when she’d been kicked in the head by a horse. The weeks leading up to and following the accident had been permanently erased from her memory.

Her first impression of Wade with a D hadn’t been very complimentary. Her job at her father’s oil company often brought Sam in contact with arrogant, self-centered and opinionated businessmen. Bankers and investors considered themselves intellectually superior. Heaven forbid if they made a mistake or misjudged a situation—they’d never admit as much. But unlike most financial investors Wade had tempered his I-know-what’s-best attitude with generosity—offering to contact a drilling company and obtain estimates for a well. He’d gone out of his way to help her—maybe because he’d felt guilty his uncle had ignored one of the firm’s most wealthy clients. Although he’d given her no reason to trust him, she sensed Wade was an honorable man who would keep his word and not contact her father.

Genuine niceness aside, Wade was handsome in a nerdy kind of way. She’d grown up around dusty cowboys and sweaty ranchers all her life and was surprised that she’d found Wade’s clean-shaven face, neatly styled hair, crisp clothes and clunky glasses attractive and…sexy. That was good and well but she had little in common with him. If she was smart she’d focus on the horse ranch and not her financial adviser.

If Sam’s father caught wind of her plans he’d meddle in her affairs and guilt her into giving up her dream. She understood and sympathized with his overprotectiveness following her near brush with death and her long and arduous recovery. But the accident happened sixteen years ago. The time had come for both father and daughter to put the past behind them and move on.

For years, she’d bowed to her father’s fear, allowing him to choose her path in life. No more. If her brothers, Matt and Duke, had the courage to defy their father and pursue their heart’s desire, then she could do no less.

She wanted to make a difference and do something with purpose. She’d dreamed of opening a sanctuary ranch for years but worried she’d never overcome her fear of horses. She’d decided if her dream was to come true she needed to conquer her fears. A few months ago, behind her father’s back, she’d begun volunteering at the Tulsa SPCA equine center. Although horses terrified Sam, her previous injury hadn’t erased the memory of her love for the animals. She hoped by the time she completed renovations on the Peterson property she’d have no qualms about handling horses on her own.

Sam admitted horses alone wouldn’t fill the void in her life. She dreamed of falling in love. Of finding a man willing to overlook her faults and put up with her memory lapses. With Duke happily married to Renée and living in Detroit and Matt heading down the aisle with Amy in a matter of days, Sam realized how alone she would be. Sure, her father pampered her when he was around, but his business travels took him away for weeks at a time.

Juanita, their housekeeper, generously included Sam in her family activities but it wasn’t the same as having a husband of her own. One day Sam hoped to find a man who didn’t want children. As much as Sam loved children—motherhood was out of the question. Never again would she allow her handicaps to cause harm to a child.

Her one serious relationship had ended in disaster when her absentmindedness had put Bo’s daughter, Emily, in danger. Not even the promise of inheriting the Cartwright fortune had kept Bo from believing he and Emily were safer without Sam.

Matt had tried to heal her broken heart by setting her up on dates with his rodeo buddies. To this day, her brother wasn’t aware that one of the cowboys had used Sam’s forgetfulness to his advantage and had wiped out her checking account before riding off into the sunset.

Although Sam was grateful for her family’s love and concern, their smothering had hindered more than helped her. The time had come to stand on her own two feet and make a play for the future she wanted—not the future others believed best for her.

The Peterson mailbox came into view and she flipped on the blinker. As the truck bumped along the rutted road she made a mental note to add a fresh layer of gravel to her ranch improvement list. Halfway to the house Matt’s truck appeared in the rearview mirror.

As soon as they parked their vehicles and got out, Matt motioned to the crumbling farmhouse. “What’s up with this place?”

Flinging her arms wide Sam spun in a circle. “This is my birthday present to myself.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope.” Her smile faded at her brother’s grimace. “It’s not so bad,” she insisted, studying the home’s caved-in roof and broken windows. The outer walls leaned inward in danger of collapsing from a strong wind and the porch bowed like an old swaybacked nag. Sam’s stomach churned. Had she gotten in over her head? She hated when she second-guessed herself. “Say something,” she demanded at her brother’s silence.

“I’m guessing Dad’s in the dark about this…present?”

“Yes, and he’d better stay in the dark.” Matt’s eyes narrowed and she blurted, “I know what you’re thinking.”

“No, sis, you don’t.”

“You’re wondering if this is another one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions I’m famous for making.” The lingering side effects from the injury to her brain years ago weren’t horrible, just a nuisance—similar to a mosquito bite. One minute you were scratching, the next you forgot about the itchy bump.

“Well, is it?” Matt demanded.

“Not at all.” Once in a while she jumped the gun and made conclusions based on…well, nothing really. When she was nervous, she became forgetful, which often led to anxiety attacks. And lastly she tended to recall things out of order. She’d learned to compensate for her limitations by keeping lists and recording her activities. “I didn’t make this decision lightly and I weighed the pros and cons.”

“The property is a dump. When’s the last time anyone lived here?” he asked.

“Twenty-five years ago.”

“How long has the place been on the market?”

“Ten years.”

“Give it to me straight, Sam.” Matt rubbed his brow. “Why hasn’t this land sold before now?”

“The well’s going dry.” She raised a hand to forestall any lecture. “I’m aware that I’ll need a source of water if I intend to board horses.”

“Horses?” Her brother’s face paled.

Samantha squeezed his arm. “Promise you won’t tell Daddy, but I’ve been working with horses at the SPCA and I’m feeling more confident around them.” She sucked in a deep breath, grateful her brother hadn’t interrupted. “I intend to board horses that the SPCA can’t find foster homes for.”

Matt studied her, then he brushed a strand of hair from her face and asked, “Will you have help?” He really wanted to know if there would be someone to watch over her.

“I plan to hire a couple of hands.”

Her answer appeared to satisfy him because he changed the subject. “Tell me you had a drilling company confirm a second water source before you signed the closing papers.”

“Better than that,” she boasted. “I checked with Millicent, the resident water witch.” Sam had witnessed the old woman’s dousing stick wiggle and shake when they’d walked the property.

“What do you mean resident?”

Sam pointed beyond the barn to a shanty near a huge hackberry tree.

“That hovel’s hardly habitable.”

“Millicent’s lived on the property all her life. Her parents were sharecroppers.”

“Why hasn’t she packed her things and left?”

“She has nowhere to go.” Sam shrugged. “She’s not hurting anything by staying.” Having remained under her father’s roof all these years, Sam was leery of living alone and looked forward to having a neighbor when she set up house on the property.

Matt frowned and she sensed he struggled with wanting to support her and at the same time protect her. And she loved him dearly for caring. “What about your nightmares?” he asked.

Once in a while Sam’s nightmares were so vivid she woke screaming—a silent scream her father never heard. But Matt had sensed his sister’s night terrors and had held her until she’d fallen back to sleep. As the years passed, the nightmares occurred less frequently, holding off for months at a time until Matt arrived home from the rodeo circuit.

“I haven’t had a nightmare in over a year,” she lied. Last night she’d awoken soaked in sweat and gasping for breath. “I want—” tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them away “—need this ranch.”

Matt hugged her. “Dad’s going to blow a gasket.”

“Daddy isn’t going to find out.” She hoped. “At least not right away.”

“Maybe I can talk Amy into staying at the Lazy River after we’re married. We could help—”

“No. I’m doing this on my own.”

“Where is the money coming from?”

“My trust fund.” She crinkled her nose. “Now that I’m thirty-two, I can withdraw money without Daddy’s permission. After the wedding he leaves for Europe. By the time he returns, I’ll have made significant progress and then I’ll break the news to him.”

“You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?” Matt held her gaze.

“You and Duke got your dreams—I want mine.”

“We’ll worry about you living here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“That’s right, your closest neighbor is a witch.” Matt yanked her ponytail. “C’mon. We’d better head home. Duke and Renée are flying in for your birthday.”

One brother down. One to go.

WHEN SAM PULLED INTO the Lazy River ranch yard, she noticed her father’s 1959 two-door black-and-chrome Chevrolet Apache pickup parked near the house. Although Dominick Cartwright could afford any car in the world, he had a soft spot for old Chevy trucks. And right now Samantha’s nephew sat behind the wheel, pretending to drive.

Duke and Renée had adopted Timmy shortly after they’d married this past February. The little boy had been in the Detroit foster care system his entire life. Sam was thrilled he’d gotten his wish for a family and she loved playing the role of favorite aunt. After Matt married Amy, Samantha would add two nieces to her brood—Rose and Lily. As much as she loved hanging around the children, they were a painful reminder that this was as close to motherhood as she’d come.

Sam parked her truck, then headed for the old Apache.

“Happy birthday, brat,” Duke called.

“Daddy said you weren’t arriving until the wedding next week.” She bear-hugged her stepbrother, then poked her head through the truck window and planted a big, loud smooch on Timmy’s cheek.

“Gross, Aunt Sammy!” Timmy made a big production of wiping germs off his cheek.

“I didn’t want to miss your birthday,” Duke said.

Before her stepbrother had met Renée he couldn’t get far enough away from the Cartwright ranch. Sam credited Renée with softening Duke’s attitude toward children and family.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Then she added, “Maybe Renée will convince Amy to allow Daddy to invite more guests to the wedding. Amy wants to keep the reception small enough to have at the house and Daddy wants to move things to the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Tulsa.”

Duke chuckled. “Sounds like the old man.”

“Got a minute to talk?”

“Sure.” Duke opened the truck door. “Timmy, go see if Aunt Amy needs help with Rose or Lily.”

“Girls are so lame.”

“Oh, c’mon. Lily’s a cutie,” Sam said.

“Uncle Matt told me Lily poops marbles in her pants. That’s gross.” Timmy marched off, grumbling under his breath.

“Let’s take a walk.” Sam slipped her arm through Duke’s and they strolled toward the barn. “How’s life in Detroit?”

“Renée’s working with a local teacher to create a homeschooling program for the kids who end up in Santa’s Shelter when the doors open this September.”

“What’s happened to the kids you discovered hiding in your warehouse this past Christmas?” Aside from Timmy, Sam couldn’t remember their names.

“Renée’s keeping a close eye on the group. Mrs. Jensen suffered a mild heart attack a few months ago and Renée worried that she’d have to find a new home for Crystal and Evie. Crystal surprised everyone by stepping up and caring for the other children while Mrs. Jensen recovered.” Duke chuckled. “Crystal even ditched the gothic clothes and dyed her hair back to blond.”

“Wasn’t there a teenage boy in the group?”

“José. He never surfaced after running away from the Covenant House, but a few weeks ago Renée found a note in our mailbox with the words I’m okay scribbled on it.”

“From José?”

“We can’t be sure but the paper smelled like cigarette smoke and Renée was never able to convince José to quit the cigarettes.”

They stopped at the bench outside the barn and sat. “Willie’s story took an interesting turn,” Duke continued.

Sam wracked her brain but couldn’t recall a boy named Willie.

“Willie’s birth dad entered the picture and not by choice. Evidently the young man wasn’t aware that he’d gotten Willie’s mom pregnant.”

“Is he going to raise Willie?”

“Not sure. It’s a tabloid mess. Willie’s father is white and the son of Richard McDaniel, a prominent plastic surgeon in Detroit.”

“How did the story become public?”

“You’ll have to ask Renée for the details but apparently a disgruntled patient of McDaniel’s leaked the information to the press.”

“Where’s Willie now?”

Duke chuckled. “Living at the McDaniel mansion. Willie’s father is in college and his grandfather’s divorced, so the boy’s under the supervision of the McDaniel housekeeper.”

“Wasn’t there one more child?” Sam asked.

“Ricci. He was arrested for street racing. His foster family gave up on him and Renée had to place him in a boy’s orphanage. His probation officer keeps a close eye on him, but Renée believes it’s only a matter of time before he runs away and joins a gang.”

Sam couldn’t imagine the day-to-day emotional upheaval her sister-in-law experienced as a social worker. “Renée’s a special woman.”

“I’m lucky to have Renée even though I share her with hundreds of kids,” he said.

“What about your condo? When do you two plan to move in?” Her brother had purchased an old warehouse along Detroit’s riverfront. Company offices and a condo were to occupy the top two floors while the rest housed a recreational center and shelter for homeless children.

“Renée and I decided against the condo.”

“Really?”

“We want our kids to grow up in a neighborhood with other families. And Renée worried about moving away from her mother. For now we’re keeping Renée’s house and making plans to expand.”

“You said kids as in plural.”

Duke grinned. “Don’t tell anyone but Renée’s pregnant.”

“Oh, Duke, that’s wonderful!” Sam fought a pang of envy as she hugged her brother. “When is she due?”

“Middle of January.”

“Is Timmy excited?”

“He doesn’t know yet and we don’t want to make the news public until after Timmy’s surgery at the end of August.”

The boy had been born with a clubfoot but because he’d been shuffled from one foster home to another through the years he’d never had the deformity corrected.

“Would you call me when Timmy checks into the hospital? I’d like to send him a gift to cheer him up.”

“Sure thing.” Duke cleared his throat. “Matt hasn’t known Amy or her daughters long. Has he said much about their relationship?”

Sam laughed. “You’re one to talk. You met Renée in December and married her in February.” Her teasing remark earned her a pinch on the arm. “Hey!”

“How does Matt feel about inheriting an instant family?”

“How did you feel about marrying a woman who’ll always be involved with other people’s children?” Sam countered.

“Touché.” Duke chuckled. “That Rose sure is opinionated and Lily, with her blond curls, is nothing but a handful of cute.”

Sam’s turn to share her personal news. “I bought the old Peterson homestead on Route 38 two weeks ago.”

“I’m listening,” Duke said, offering his undivided attention.

That’s what she loved about her stepbrother—he never rushed to judgment like Matt did. Duke heard a person out before offering an opinion. “I need to be part of a worthwhile cause. I hate working in Daddy’s office. There are days I can’t breathe let alone concentrate.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“For what?”

“I should have taken your complaints more seriously when you came to Detroit before Christmas. I could have spoken with Dominick.”

“I wasn’t ready to do anything then. But I am now,” she insisted, hoping to reassure herself as well as her brother.

“What exactly are you doing?” he asked.

“The same thing you and Renée have done for homeless kids, except I’m opening a sanctuary for neglected and abandoned horses.”

“An admirable cause but are you ready to work with horses again?”

“Yes.” She didn’t have a choice—not if she intended to move on with her life. She needed to put her fears to rest if she wanted to experience again the special relationship with a horse that she’d always treasured. “I’ve been visiting the SPCA equine center for several months.”

“Does Dominick know you’re hanging around horses?”

“No,” she admitted, then rushed on. “Daddy would have made a big fuss if I’d told him. I’m taking things slow and working with horses that are mild-tempered.” For now. She eventually wanted to help all horses—even the unpredictable ones.

“Does Matt approve?”

“He’s having fits because the property’s in poor condition and with the wedding preparations he doesn’t have time to help out.”

“I could—”

“Thanks but I don’t need help from a man who can’t pound a nail without hitting his thumb.”

Duke mussed her hair, then smiled. “You’ve got a big heart.”

“So do you, Duke. Or else you wouldn’t be sharing your warehouse with homeless kids.”

“If you need help making financial decisions—”

“Thanks, but Wade Dawson volunteered to handle my money.”

“Dawson is your financial adviser?”

She nodded. “His uncle owns Dawson Investments.”

“Do you trust him?”

She had no choice—not if she wanted to prevent her father from discovering her plans. “He’s competent.” Good-looking. “And he’s insisting I withdraw money on an as-needed basis to keep the balance of my savings earning interest.”

“Smart man.”

Trusting men outside her family wasn’t easy for Sam. But Wade made her want to believe he wouldn’t take advantage of her—even if he discovered her shortcomings.

Sam would never allow another man—even a nerdy one—to make her feel that vulnerable ever again.

Chapter Three

“That’s insane!” Wade shouted into the phone. The drilling company he’d contacted after Samantha Cartwright had left his office yesterday phoned back with a quote for the Peterson homestead—a hundred dollars per square foot drilled and an estimated drill depth to hit water of 1,100 feet. A $110,000 may not be a big deal to a Cartwright but it was a damned big deal to Wade, whose retirement fund would take a hit until he recovered Samantha’s money.

“What do you mean you’ll have to use diamond bits?” The company manager droned on about the pricey bits needed to break through bedrock. Then he spewed data from well logs of properties in the area to justify his cost.

The one thing preventing Wade from suffering cardiac arrest was the news that the first available drill date for the property was early September. Wade suspected if he mentioned the Cartwright name the owner would rearrange the company’s schedule and break ground tomorrow. Wade remained silent. He needed more time to investigate Samantha’s trust fund debacle. Numerous calls to his uncle had gone unreturned, which was out of character for the old man. Whatever his uncle was up to, Wade didn’t appreciate being left in the dark.

When the manager offered to reserve a date in September, Wade declined. “I’ll be in touch.” He snapped his cell phone shut and stared out his condo window at downtown Tulsa. His conscience nagged—to inform Samantha about the missing funds or not? Wade’s job, his future at Dawson Investments, his position in the family—too much was at stake.

In the end it was Wade’s personal financial situation that made the decision for him—he didn’t have $110,000 to pay the drilling company. Three years ago his ex-wife, Carmen, had walked away from their marriage with half his 401(k). She’d also gotten their home and a hefty child-support check each month. After purchasing his condo and furnishing the rooms, Wade had all but drained his retirement portfolio.

Then his son had begun having problems when he’d entered first grade. Wade remembered what it had been like to be the kid who didn’t fit in. Luke’s genius IQ made relating to his peers difficult. Carmen had insisted Luke would adjust, but Wade had refused to stand aside while the boy suffered teasing and ridicule. Wade enrolled his son in the Tulsa Boys Academy—a private school for overachievers and high-intellect children.