Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler

by Darlene Panzera

  “Wait a minute, back up,” Bree told them. “What man? You said a man at the café pointed the sign out to you?”

  The twins nodded.

  “It was the same man,” Nora said, “who—­”

  “Got in a fight with them!” Nadine exclaimed, nodding toward the male ranch hands.

  “Mr. Owens!” Bree shot Ryan an I-­told-­you-­so look. “You see? It is him.”

  Ryan kept his eye on Nora and Nadine. “What is it that you’re not telling us? What has made you so upset—­other than stealing the sign? And why do you each have a hand behind your back?”

  His bullet-­style questioning reduced the twins to tears, but Bree had become suspicious as well, and eagerly waited for the girls to answer.

  Nora brought her hand out first and held it up for all to see. “I broke one of my trendy nails!”

  “Me, too!” Nadine wailed, holding up the finger with the broken tip.

  “And now we don’t know what to do!” they cried together.

  Despite the seriousness of her situation with the implanted supplement, Bree had to laugh. Over the last few weeks the twins had grown on her and had indeed livened up the place. But Ryan appeared to be in somewhat of a shock. He hadn’t been exposed to them as much as she had and she assured him, “Nora and Nadine are harmless.”

  Which left . . . Mr. Owens. The ranch hands denied knowing anything about the horse supplement, but they did tell her that it was her neighbor who had sent each of them over to work for her.

  “I knew it!” Bree glanced across the field toward the Owenses’ house in the distance. “He’s the one trying to sabotage our ranch.”

  “I’ll go talk to him,” Ryan offered.

  Bree nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

  MINUTES LATER WHEN they arrived at Owens Hideaway, there were several ­people coming in on horseback from a trail ride, a few ranch hands manned a barbeque grill, and the grounds had all been cleaned up better than the last time Ryan had seen it. Maybe because the Owenses were working harder than ever to compete with the Collinses.

  “What if someone put the supplement into the feed once before?” Bree asked, climbing out of the passenger’s side of the truck. “What if that’s why the horse my father was on reared and he fell off? Do you think someone wanted to hurt him on purpose?”

  “Maybe when we go inside you should let me do the talking,” Ryan suggested.

  “I’m not going to accuse anyone,” Bree said, and frowned. “At least, not yet.”

  When Merle Owens answered the door, he looked genuinely surprised. “Didn’t expect to see the two of you here . . . together.”

  “I bet you didn’t,” Bree said under her breath as he gestured them toward the living room.

  Ryan shot her a warning glance, then greeted Mrs. Owens, who sat in a chair by the window reading a worn leather journal. One he recognized. Gail’s journal.

  Olivia closed the book with a snap and wiped away a tear from her cheek. “I wasn’t prepared for visitors. Ryan, why didn’t you call to say you were coming . . . with her.”

  Bree stiffened beside him. “We have a few questions for you that can’t wait.”

  “Someone slipped a supplement into the horses’ feed at the Collins guest ranch last night,” Ryan explained, and directed his gaze toward Merle. “It was EHS.”

  Merle scowled. “You think it was me?”

  “We saw you in our stable,” Bree reminded him.

  “And we just wanted to know if there was anyone else in there with you,” Ryan finished.

  “No.” Merle shook his head. “Someone told me Olivia had gone down to the stable, but when I went looking for her she wasn’t there. That’s when I got to thinking—­why would she be in the stable when there was a dance going on?”

  Mrs. Owens nodded. “I never left the dance.”

  “Now it’s obvious someone meant to set me up!” Mr. Owens grumbled, clenching his hands into fists.

  “By who?” Bree asked, her eyes wide. “Who told you to go look for Mrs. Owens?”

  Merle stomped his foot. “That doggone real estate agent from town, that’s who!”

  “The real estate agent?” Bree asked, and Ryan could see her mind was onto something. “He came to our ranch asking if he could help us list the property. He wants us to sell. But then why did you,” she continued, narrowing her gaze on Merle, “send those awful employees over for us to hire? And try to convince the CEOs your ranch is better than mine?”

  “I sent a few ­people over to you because you needed help,” Merle insisted. “And who could blame me for wanting to land a corporate booking? Your ranch always has more guests than ours and we need the money. But I would never tamper with your horses’ feed.”

  Ryan almost believed him. Or was that because the Owenses were Cody’s grandparents? He gave both Merle and Olivia a pointed look. “The same supplement is in your barn. Have you had any of it stolen?”

  “As a matter of fact we have,” Merle told him. “Along with a whole load of rock salt.”

  Ryan saw the Adam’s apple jump up and down in Merle’s throat, a telltale clue the guy was either nervous or lying. Since he’d never known Merle to be nervous, he narrowed his gaze.

  “He . . . he doesn’t believe me,” Merle said, turning to his wife.

  “How dare you come here and accuse us like this today of all days,” Olivia said, her tone as sharp as her look.

  “Why?” Bree asked, shaking her head. “What’s today?”

  Ryan pressed his lips together, then sighed. “It’s the anniversary of Gail’s death.”

  THE RIDE BACK to Bree’s ranch was filled with a tension Ryan didn’t know how to dispel. If only he’d kissed Bree the way he’d wanted to when he’d first arrived at the ranch that morning, then maybe the day would have turned out different. Maybe the yellow-­clad CEO would have seen he had his sights set on someone else and taken the date with his brother instead. Maybe he could have convinced Bree to let him go to the Owenses’ alone. And maybe she wouldn’t be sitting on the far side of the truck as if Gail were sitting between them.

  Lots of maybes.

  He glanced her way, fighting the desire to pull Bree toward him. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

  Bree shrugged. “Why? Did you want to go talk to the real estate agent?”

  “No.” Ryan hesitated. “I mean, yes, I would like to talk to him, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I asked because I was hoping I could take you out to dinner?”

  She stared at him. “A date?”

  He grinned, hoping to charm her into saying yes. Bad move. Bree’s expression turned stone cold.

  “When you date someone you work with life becomes more difficult,” she said, her words stiff. “You can’t get away from each other if things go sour. Kind of like a bad marriage, you know?”

  Yeah, he knew. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him. “Bree, give me a chance. Please say yes.”

  She shook her head. “Not now. Why don’t you ask me again after your date with Rebecca?”

  BREE GAVE RYAN a wave as he drove off toward home, her stomach twisting in knots. She should have said yes when he asked her to dinner. She should have said yes! She could kick herself for acting so immature, and groaned as she trudged toward the house.

  Why was she so jealous of Rebecca? Ryan had said he wasn’t interested in the—­what did he call her? Oh, yes—­the “banana peel” woman. And Bree knew Ryan had only agreed to the date to help her family out of trouble. So why had she acted all hot and bothered?

  Because she didn’t want any other female near him. She smiled and her thoughts returned to Ryan’s kiss the night before. She wanted to trust him. But her ex in New York hadn’t been satisfied with just one woman and she didn’t think a charmer like Ryan would either. True, he had once been married for a few short ye
ars, but he’d also made it clear he’d been unhappy.

  Yes, she needed to slow things down and think things through before she ran headlong into another mistake like she had in New York.

  She walked into the stable and found Luke checking on the horses.

  “Tanner’s gone?” he asked, looking behind her.

  She nodded. “We questioned the Owenses, but they claim they’re innocent and the realtor set them up.”

  “Or someone else did.” Luke glanced behind her again and then looked straight into her eyes. “The night of the dance I saw three men go into the stable. I didn’t see the face of the first.” Luke hesitated and scowled. “Sammy Jo saw me hanging out by the entrance and came over to bother me. But the second was Mr. Owens, and the third was a Tanner.”

  “One of Ryan’s brothers? Which one?”

  “Dean.”

  Bree frowned. “Why didn’t Ryan tell us?”

  “Either he’s in on it . . . or he doesn’t know.”

  Bree gasped. “You think the Tanners might be working against us? That Ryan might be working against us?”

  Luke shrugged. “Sometimes it’s the ­people you trust who hurt you the most, right? ­People you’ve known for years? ­People you’d never suspect?”

  She’d made that very point with her mother at the dance. But Ryan?

  No. Couldn’t be Ryan. Even if he was a notorious sweet-­talking charmer.

  Chapter Ten

  LATE AFTERNOON RYAN met his father and brothers down by the cattle shed and told them about the mini-­roundup and what he’d learned when he and Bree paid a visit to the Owenses’. “Merle says he wasn’t the one who put the supplement in the Collinses’ horse feed.”

  “He wasn’t,” Dean confirmed, leaning against an old wooden wagon wheel. “Last night we took turns following Merle everywhere he went. Even when we danced with those three fancy wannabe cowgirls you set us up with, we still had our eye on him. Of course, you were no help.”

  Ryan chuckled. “Of course I was. I distracted Bree.”

  Josh jabbed Zach in the ribs and both of them smirked. “He distracted her all right,” Josh teased. “Dean walked right past them and neither one knew he was there.”

  Dean nodded. “I followed Merle into the stables, but all he did was take a look around.”

  “What if he’s working with someone else?” their dad asked, folding his arms over his chest. “Merle might have gone in there to see if the deed had been done.”

  “He claims his horse supplement and bags of rock salt had been stolen,” Ryan said, and nodded toward his younger brother. “And when Josh and I went to visit Roy Paulson—­the man Cody said threatened Owens—­we found the crop duster’s engine had been taken apart.”

  “No way that plane had been up in the air over the last few weeks,” Josh agreed.

  Zach glanced around at each of them. “Who else could it be?”

  “Owens says the new town realtor set him up.” Ryan shrugged, still not sure he believed Owens’s story. “Bree says the guy came to her ranch pressing her family to sell. Do you think he might be trying to run us out, too?”

  “Ryan,” Josh said, his eyes wide. “I heard the realtor has a single-­engine air tanker.”

  BREE CONVINCED HER mother to hand over the realtor’s business card and planned to call him the next day. He might come out to the ranch if he thought they’d changed their minds about putting the place up for sale. But then how could she confront him about the horse supplement? What would she say—­without proof he’d been in her stable?

  She put the card on top of the phone bill she also thought suspicious. Three out-­of-­state calls had been made the previous month from the ranch to a number no one in her family recognized. Bree had hoped to link Sue and Wade Randall to an accomplice—­maybe the realtor who had been away on business listing other properties. But when she called the number, she’d received a message saying it was no longer in ser­vice.

  Bree hung up the phone with a bang. The ranch managers couldn’t have been that good at covering their tracks. There had to be a clue somewhere. All she had to do was find it.

  She motioned for Sammy Jo to sit beside her behind the large, rectangle desk in the front office. “Careful, or you’ll get run over.”

  Meghan squealed with delight as she chased Boots around the room for the third time. “Boots!” the toddler said, pointing a finger at the puppy. Then she giggled and chased him down the hall.

  Sammy Jo laughed. “She really loves him.”

  Bree nodded. “They love each other. Boots seems to think she’s the perfect playmate.”

  The ­couple who had been staying in Bree’s bedroom the last two weeks came through the doorway hauling their luggage. “Checking out?” Bree asked.

  “Yes,” the woman replied. “I want to thank you for offering us that in-­house room. We had a wonderful vacation.”

  Her husband linked his arm through his wife’s, gazed into her eyes, then smiled. “Sharing that room has rekindled our marriage.”

  “Don’t forget these, to use when you get home,” Bree’s grandma exclaimed, bustling in to hand them a few extra bars of her homemade lavender soap. “Nothing like lavender to soothe the senses.”

  And help keep their relationship calm. Bree smiled as her grandma gave her a wink and bustled back out.

  When the ­couple left, Sammy Jo sighed, a dreamy expression on her face. “Did you see the way he looked at her?”

  Bree nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Luke pretends our dance together was no big deal,” her friend continued. “But when he looks at me, I can see how he really feels, you know?”

  Bree didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings, but was sure Sammy Jo had seen only what she wanted to see. After the dance, Luke complained that Sammy Jo was a royal pest.

  Heat rose into her cheeks as Bree thought of her own dance partner and she wondered if—­like Sammy Jo—­she’d only imagined the deeper feelings developing between them.

  Bree gave her friend a sidelong look. “How did Ryan take the news that you wanted to stop dating him?”

  “I never got a chance to say anything,” Sammy Jo confided. “Ryan broke up with me.”

  “He did?”

  “I see how Ryan looks at you,” Sammy Jo said with an impish grin. “Be careful, Bree. You might just be his next target.”

  Bree shook her head. “Doubtful. He picked up the Iridescent Beauty exec in Cabin 12 for a date an hour ago.”

  ANOTHER HOUR PASSED, Sammy Jo left, and Bree started pacing the office. Where would Ryan take a woman like Rebecca? Out to dinner? To a movie? At the end of the date would he kiss her, too?

  She went out to the stable to find comfort like she used to do when Serenity was alive, but none of the horses there shared a connection with her. Grabbing her keys to the ranch pickup she decided to drive over to the Triple T, to work with the mare and the filly.

  Bree found the pair turned out in the mare pasture with a few of the other horses, but as soon as she arrived, they came right over to her. First she wrapped her arms around Angel and gave her shoulder a kiss. Then she knelt down and hugged Morning Glory, breathing in her familiar horsey scent, the kind that soothed and calmed and was ten times more effective than her grandma’s lavender.

  “Here’s my sweet girls,” she said, and laughed as Morning Glory tried once again to steal her embroidered scarf from her neck. “You want to play, don’t you?”

  “Can I play, too?” Cody asked, squeezing his small frame through the gate.

  “Of course you can,” Bree said, waving him closer. He ran into her arms for a hug, and when she saw the disturbed look on his face, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Bad day,” he said, taking a step back and shoving his hands in his denim pockets.

  Bree nodded. “Because
. . . of your mother?”

  Cody shook his head. “No. Dad took me to the cemetery this morning to pay respects, but I don’t remember her.”

  “Then what’s got you so upset?” Bree asked with concern.

  “Dad.” Cody scrunched up his face. “He’s out with another woman.”

  “And?” she prompted, hoping to get to the heart of the matter.

  Cody shrugged. “I got . . . scared.”

  “Oh, Cody,” Bree said, drawing him in for another hug. “Please tell me why?”

  He lifted his head to look at her and his lip trembled. “I-­didn’t-­know-­if-­you’d-­come-­back.”

  “I’m here,” Bree assured him, and as he laid his head on her shoulder, she tightened her hold on him and reaffirmed her promise. “I’m here to stay.”

  The filly, refusing to be ignored, nudged her head between them, pulling them apart and making them both laugh.

  “How about we set up the course for the halter show and practice leading Morning Glory through?” Bree asked, smiling.

  Cody’s face brightened. “I’ll get the poles.”

  RYAN PARKED IN his own driveway, relieved to finally be done with what he considered one of the worst dates of all time.

  First Rebecca—­yes, he remembered her name this time—­came out of her cabin dressed in a gold, slinky dress as shiny as tin foil. He’d been worried she might soil a dress like that by sitting in his truck, but then he saw Bree peek out the window of her office and all he could think about was—­how could he take another woman out on a date instead of her?

  His aunt Mary didn’t just think it, she spoke the words loud and clear when he and Rebecca ran into her at the café. She even threatened to disinherit him. His aunt was definitely on “Team Bree.”

  “Didn’t you promise me that in exchange for the use of my field you’d ask Bree Collins out on a date?” she demanded.

  Rebecca excused herself and ran toward the ladies’ room, leaving him and his aunt alone. Ryan glanced around the café and realized they had caused a stir of interest among the other café’s patrons. “I did ask Bree, but it was bad timing.”