“Is that your mom?”
Dillon grimaced.
Her posture noticeably relaxed when she spotted them, then almost as quickly bristled with irritation. The slender woman charged down the rocky slope, her arms pumping.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Dillon. Do you know how worried I’ve been?” She glanced at Jared, and her light blue eyes offered a strained apology. “Who’s your friend?”
The boy shrugged.
Jared swiped his palms on his jeans. “I recently moved here from St. Louis. My name’s Jared Logan.” He extended his hand, and too late, noticed his fingers marred with mud.
She ignored his greeting. Dressed in slim-fitting jeans and a button-up shirt tied snug at the waist, she came across as one who wouldn’t care to get her hands dirty.
“I was visiting with your son.” Jared lowered his hand with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “From the looks of his stringer, he appears to have good fishing sense.”
Her eyes narrowed. “My brother might know about fishing, but I question his good sense.”
She turned to Dillon and thumped him on the head. “The next time you get an urge to leave home, you better tell someone where you’re going. Chelsey’s got supper on the stove, and your chores need done.”
Dillon frowned down at his catch, then offered the stringer to Jared. “Guess I won’t have time to clean these. You want them?”
Jared glanced between the boy and his sister and wondered at the considerable age difference. “Are you sure?”
“Help yourself. We have plenty in the freezer,” the young woman answered for her brother. As though she had no time for indecision, she grabbed the fish from Dillon’s hand and shoved them at Jared, the stench of the muddy river clinging to their scales. “Enjoy your supper.”
She turned and prodded the boy up the riverbank. Jared stumbled after them. “Wait, I didn’t catch your name.”
Her blue eyes flickered back at him. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” She smiled, and her white teeth gleamed against her perfect olive complexion.
Jared couldn’t remember when he’d seen such a vision. He watched as she ascended the rocky bank, but her countenance stayed with him. He couldn’t decide which was more impressive—her eyes, her smile, or the black crown of hair that floated about her face. All had stirred his senses.
FIVE
NATALIE PEERED AT HER BROTHER AS SHE DROVE UP THE DIRT ROAD TO their ranch. “You’ll catch more,” she said at the crushed expression on her brother’s face.
Dillon stared at his lap, his sullenness intensifying her guilt. “Like you said, we have lots in the freezer.”
She nodded. “Just tell me next time, so I don’t have to worry. Okay?” Natalie had searched in every barn and outbuilding on the ranch and called his name so much her throat still felt raw from the effort. If Willard hadn’t spotted Dillon walking toward the river with his pole, she wasn’t sure what she would have done.
It had to be a guy thing—fishing on the river. She considered the dark-haired man, a city boy from St. Louis, probably hoping to commune with nature or some such nonsense. Judging from his pale complexion, the man didn’t get out much.
“You think Dad was in a lot of pain when he died?”
Dillon’s question jerked Natalie out of her thoughts and back to the real world—right where her father had always instructed her to live. She debated lying to the boy. As intuitive as he was, he’d probably see right through her.
“I don’t know, Dillon. It’s better not to think about it.” At least, that’s what she tried to do. She smiled and reached across the seat to squeeze his shoulder. “Concentrate on the good times you had—all those overnight trips you took to the river, and helping him at roundup. I know how much you liked herding steers.”
His brown eyes brightened. “Especially hunting strays. Or drinking from the windmills.”
“More like swimming in the water tanks.” She pinched his ear, and he pulled away.
“Do you miss him?”
The tires hit a chuckhole as Natalie turned into their lane, and the two of them jostled inside the cab of the truck. “What kind of question is that?”
Dillon cracked his knuckles, a habit she loathed almost as much as her sister’s nail biting. “You haven’t been around much lately. I thought maybe you and Dad…that maybe you didn’t get along so well anymore.”
Natalie pulled up to the house and shut off the Ford’s diesel engine. Sometimes her brother saw things through a magnifying glass, things she’d rather not acknowledge. But it was true. Life hadn’t been the same since Vegas.
“It’s not that we didn’t get along.” She opened the truck door and the hinges groaned. “I’ve been busy…trying to figure out what to do with my life. Sometimes we grownups don’t always see eye-to-eye.”
Dillon frowned. “Are you sad about the contest?”
She fought back the emotion, allowed it to deaden her senses. “Not so much.”
“What about that guy…Ryan. You still dating him?”
“No, I’m not.” Natalie scowled. Ryan was the last person she cared to think about. Unwilling to say more, she headed for the house.
Chelsey met her on the back porch, a dishtowel slung over her shoulder. “A guy’s waiting for you in Dad’s office—says his name’s Mr. Thompson.”
A curse slipped from Natalie’s tongue as she checked her watch. She’d forgotten about her appointment with Dad’s attorney. One glance in the hall mirror confirmed her hair was a mess, and she quickly raked her fingers through the black strands before entering her father’s office.
The man sat with his back to her, his balding crown framed by dark tufts of hair on each side.
“I’m sorry for keeping you.” She reached out her hand and offered him a warm smile.
“No problem.” He started to stand. “Since I’ve been out of the office all week, I figured you’d want to get this over with as soon as possible, but if today isn’t convenient we can reschedule for another time.”
“You said on the phone that my father had a will?” Natalie noted his briefcase and cleared a space on the oak desk.
“Yes, albeit a short one.” Mr. Thompson laid half a dozen papers on the desk, spreading them out for her to view. He then withdrew two scrolls of paper each tied with a string and handed them to her. “Before we begin, here are a couple of items your father gave me to go along with the will. They’re addressed to your brother and sister. I believe he mentioned they were poems.”
Natalie lifted an eyebrow, never knowing her father to write an ounce of poetry. Willard, yes, but not her dad. She stared at the scribbled names, wondering why he’d given them to his lawyer and why there wasn’t one for her.
“Your father was a unique man.”
She glanced up from the scrolls. “That’s putting it mildly, wouldn’t you say?”
“What I mean is that while he wanted his legal matters in order, he failed to do the same with his finances.”
Natalie eased into the wooden desk chair. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“Trust me, your father planned for your futures, but his plan had a few…kinks.” The attorney rushed on. “As his only heirs, he left you and your brother and sister the entire estate, to be divided equally among you when they reach the age of twenty-one. Until then, he appointed you guardian of the children and conservator of the ranch. You’re also the executor of the estate.”
She skimmed the papers on the desk. “Then I don’t understand.”
“The problem isn’t the real estate…he owned his land free and clear.” The man twisted in his seat as a bead of sweat formed on his upper lip. “The dilemma comes in determining your father’s cash assets. He once told me he had a great dislike for financial institutions. Said he could protect his money better than a bank. I guess he wasn’t kidding.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following…”
“Well…” The attorney drew out the word befor
e he continued. “I’ve spoken to your father’s accountant. We have his tax records, and his quarterly ledgers. Your father had an account at the bank for his business transactions, but we’re quite certain there was more. We just don’t know where.”
Natalie stared at the man in disbelief. “What about investments?”
Mr. Thompson frowned and shook his head. “We have no records of any such business. Maybe he gambled the money or gave it away. We have no way of knowing.”
Natalie scrunched her brow. Her father didn’t gamble. “But there’s money in the ranch account?”
“You have enough to cover operating expenses—for a few months, anyway.”
As Natalie digested what this meant, her hand began to tremble.
The attorney offered her a consoling shrug. “I’m sorry. I know how much he loved all of you. I’m certain it wasn’t his intention to make your lives difficult. That’s really all I can offer.”
“There’s no savings? Nothing I can draw upon?”
“You have the ranch, all fifty-six hundred acres. And who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and find the money hidden in a shoe somewhere.” He rose and gave her a weak smile. “Stranger things have happened.”
SIX
JARED STRETCHED HIS NECK AND SHOULDERS, TENSE FROM AN AFTERNOON of preparing his second sermon. Nearly a week had passed since he’d first met Dillon and his sister on the Cottonwood River, and still, he remembered the color of her eyes—the color of a Kansas summer sky. He shook the image from his mind, and another thought struck him. He still had the boy’s stringer.
That evening after work, Jared climbed into his Toyota Tercel and drove to the bend in the river where he’d fished on Sunday. A mile and a half further, he came upon a small house. An old black man in overalls sat on the front steps with a book in his hands. Soon after, Jared spotted a larger property with a one-and-a-half-story home and a wrap-around porch flanked by several sheds and a substantial limestone barn.
He noted the name on the mailbox and turned into the lane of the Double-A-Ranch. As he pulled up to the house, a border collie barked at the car and sniffed the tires. A young teen stepped out and called to the dog.
“Good afternoon. I’m looking for a boy named Dillon.” Jared crawled from his car, banging his knee on the steering wheel.
The girl bounded down the porch steps with bare feet, her blonde hair floating in the breeze. He tried to determine whether she was related to the woman he’d met on Sunday, but their features were too dissimilar.
“This is Dillon’s home. Who are you?”
“Forgive me.” Jared reached out his hand and introduced himself. “I met Dillon fishing the other day. He gave me his catch, and I wanted to return his stringer.”
She shrugged. “He should be back in a bit if you want to wait on him.”
Jared surveyed the property for signs of Dillon or his other sister. “Are your parents home?”
Already on her way back to the house, she glanced over her shoulder with an odd look and frowned. “They’re dead. My dad died two weeks ago.”
Jared balked at this information, caught even more off guard by the callousness in her voice. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know. Do you need anything? Any help or assistance?”
“A crystal ball would be good,” the girl called out, then disappeared inside the house.
Having no clue what she meant, Jared followed her to the porch and waited outside the open door. The teen stood at the kitchen stove, scraping scorched potatoes from the bottom of a cast iron skillet. Dressed in a pair of cutoff shorts and a pink tank top, the girl swayed to a song on the radio while she cooked.
Jared studied the broken hinge on the screen door. Instead of slamming shut, the door creaked back and forth with the shifting breeze. “What would you do with a crystal ball?”
She sent him a scornful look. “Tell the future, duh.”
“Yes, well…” He noted the pile of dirty laundry near the entryway and the muddy footprints on the linoleum. “Do you have other brothers and sisters? Someone to take care of you?”
“My older sister’s in charge.” She shut the burner off and shoved the skillet to the back of the stove. “It’s just the three of us—unless you count Tom—when you can find him.”
“Who’s Tom?”
“What’s with the questions?” Her voice grated.
Jared braced one hand on the door frame. “I only wondered how you were getting along without your…” He pressed his lips together and shook his head at his lack of sensitivity. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“That’s right, it’s not,” a crisp voice said from behind.
Jared turned to see the sister he’d met before, this time with a ball cap on her head, her black hair pulled into a ponytail that swished over her shoulder. Light blue eyes glared at him, ever cynical. He countered with a smile and offered his hand. “We meet again…from the other day…at the river. Jared Logan.”
She shook his hand, her grip firm and warm. “I remember—big city boy from the East.” Shoving the rickety screen door out of her way, the woman stepped through the kitchen maze to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.
Jared splayed his fingers, ignoring the tingling sensation there. “Actually, I’m not a city boy at all. I grew up in the small town of Concordia, Kansas. My father served as a pastor there.”
“The son of a preacher man, huh?” She took a long drink, then wiped her mouth with the back of her fingers. “The preacher kids I knew in school got away with murder, right under their parents’ noses.”
Jared offered an unsettled grin, having known a few kids like that as well. “I didn’t catch your name?”
The woman’s thin brows arched higher.
“She’s Natalie Adams, and I’m Chelsey.” The girl at the stove answered for her. “Want to stay for supper?”
Natalie’s gaze snapped to her sister, unable to believe Chelsey would ask such a thing. “I’m sure Mr. Logan has more important plans this evening than to share a meal with strangers.”
The man loosened his tie and leaned against the door frame. “Actually, I’m free this evening. Nowhere to go, no one to see. I was a stranger and you invited me in.”
She caught the glint of amusement in his eyes. Hers drifted to his dimpled grin and the dark shadow of a new beard against his pale skin. He looked to be some sort of businessman, dressed in navy pants and a short-sleeved dress shirt.
“No wife to go home to?” Her attention settled on his left hand, which boasted the absence of a ring, though that didn’t necessarily mean anything these days.
He shook his head. “The only thing waiting for me at home is an empty refrigerator.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, no sense standing there letting in flies.” She pulled out a chair and motioned for him to sit. “Where’s Dillon?” she asked Chelsey as she placed another plate on the table.
“I thought he was doing chores with you.”
Natalie groaned. How many times this past week had Dillon snuck out on his own, not telling anyone where he was going, his chores abandoned? She headed for the porch and called his name, tired of the responsibility.
“If you’d like, I’ll look for him while you finish up in here.” The man stepped out of the way, his elbow brushing against hers.
She glanced down and caught the contrast of his fair skin next to her tanned arm. Who was this man, and why was he here? She tilted her head to study his face and a trace of musky aftershave stirred her senses. “I have a better idea. You can help me look, and while we look, you can tell me why you’re so interested in our family.”
Without another word, Natalie took off toward the barnyard and heard the rapid footfall of his steps behind her.
“I wanted to thank you for your generosity the other day,” he said as he caught up to her. “Since I’m new in Diamond Falls, I thought it might be nice for us to visit and get to know one another.”
Now even more on guard, Natalie
hollered for Dillon as she peeked into the tool shed. “A neighborly visit, huh?” As a former rodeo queen, she’d had more than her share of men who wanted to be neighborly—most of their motives suspect.
“Well, yes, and to return the stringer I borrowed.”
“And that’s why you’re staying for supper?”
Two red splotches colored his cheeks. “I have to confess—your sister’s cooking smelled delicious, much better than anything I could stir up at home.”
Natalie smirked at the man’s sincerity. Judging from his tall but slight build, he probably didn’t get home cooked meals too often. Unable to think of a clever response, she headed for the next outbuilding.
“Chelsey told me about your dad.” He trailed behind. “I’m sorry for your loss. Perhaps I might be able to help?”
Natalie stared at the ground, growing accustomed to such condolences, though the harsh reality of her dad’s death still left her cold and numb. “I appreciate you wanting to help, but quite honestly, I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Oh, but that’s the easy part.” He grinned, his eyes trained on something in the distance. “I’ll start by helping you find your brother.”
SEVEN
JARED LED NATALIE TO THE ENTRANCE OF THE LIMESTONE BARN WHERE he’d seen Dillon sneak past. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the cool darkness, but he soon distinguished the thick rock walls of the structure built more than a century ago. A movement behind a wooden cattle stanchion caught his attention, and he quietly motioned Natalie to follow.
Together they watched unnoticed while the freckled-nosed boy pinned a wiry kitten to his chest. The scene caused Jared’s chest to squeeze, reminded of his own youth and fondness for little creatures. He smiled at Natalie, but recognized the exasperation on her face.
“We’ve been looking all over for you, Dillon, and here you are playing with a cat. Have you even started your chores?” She shook her head and cursed.
Jared inwardly cringed, perplexed by Natalie’s attitude. Dillon was just a kid, after all.
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