Montana Mavericks, Books 1-4

by Diana Palmer

  “Because you won’t have to pay me during the breaking process, except for a place to sleep, meals and, like I said, a few bucks a week so I’ve got a little spending money. Look, you already owe me the three thousand, so you can’t count that as pay. The horse would be my fee for doing the job.”

  Maris stood with her arms folded across her chest, frowning at this overbearing man and his outrageous offer.

  But was it really that outrageous? As he’d said, he was already owed the three thousand, although she really hadn’t intended to pay that debt of Ray’s. But fair was fair, and that aspect of Luke’s offer wasn’t out of line. There were other considerations, however.

  “How do I know you can do the job?” she asked.

  “Because I’m telling you I can,” Luke said gruffly. “I grew up on a ranch. I understand horses and I’m damned good with them.”

  Luke’s macho confidence annoyed Maris. Ray had thought he’d been an expert in every possible field, when, in fact, his knowledge on any given subject had been extremely limited. Luke Rivers could be the same kind of person, all bluster and brag.

  “How long would it take?” Maris asked, unable to keep the suspicion and doubt in her system from influencing her tone of voice.

  Luke heard the suspicion but ignored it. Again his gaze went across the fence to the grazing horses. “There are about a hundred horses…”

  “Ninety-three.”

  “All right, ninety-three.” Luke did some figuring in his head. Breaking a horse took time and patience, but a handler didn’t pull only one animal out of a herd and work solely with it until it accepted humans and their commands. He would be working with seven, eight horses a day—one at a time, of course. Some would break easily and require only a few sessions; some would be stubborn, balky and mean and require dozens of repetitive sessions. But he knew how to spot the outlaws and would begin with the more docile animals. The whole thing shouldn’t take more than ten weeks.

  “I’ll be out of here by the end of September,” he told Maris.

  Her eyes widened. “Less than three months?”

  Luke nodded. “That’s fact, not boast. By the end of September those horses will be ready to sell.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked half smile. “Maybe you can throw a big whoop-de-do and have an auction.”

  “An auction,” she repeated slowly, though her blood was definitely flowing faster from Luke’s promises and comments. An auction would be a dramatic way to sell her horses. She could advertise the event all over the area, using the newspaper and strategically placed signs.

  But jumping into anything, however good it sounded, wasn’t her nature. “Let me think about it overnight,” she said.

  Aw, hell, thought Luke. “Overnight” meant laying down another thirty bucks for a motel room.

  “Come back in the morning and I’ll give you an answer,” Maris added.

  Frustration made standing still impossible for Luke. He walked a small circle, rubbing the back of his neck, then took a breath and began again. “What’s the problem? Do you think I can’t do it?”

  “I only have your word on that, don’t I?”

  “That’s all you’ll have in the morning, too. Maris, today was the pits. I drove about two hundred miles looking at the other ranches around Whitehorn, trying to work up the desire to ask one of them for a job. I need a job, but I don’t want a job. Do you get my drift? This arrangement would benefit both of us. Your horses would be salable by the end of September, and I could get back to what I do best.”

  “Rodeo,” Maris said, icicles dripping from every syllable.

  Her tone stunned Luke. “Something wrong with rodeo?”

  “Too many things to mention.”

  “But Ray—”

  “Loved it, just as you seem to do. Forget it. Your preferences are none of my affair, nor are my attitudes of any interest to you. Getting back to your offer, I really do need tonight to think about it.”

  Luke’s face hardened. “Fine. But would you mind if I bedded down in your barn while you’re doing your thinking?”

  “In my barn! You mean spend the night in there?”

  “I have a bedroll.”

  Maris took a breath. Was he that broke? The boarding house in town didn’t charge exorbitant rates, and she knew there was a little motel on the road to the interstate. But if he didn’t even have enough money to pay for a room for the night…?

  She groaned inwardly. Two strays in one afternoon. Keith was still sitting beside his half-starved friend, petting the dog’s head and back, and now this, Luke Rivers asking to sleep in her barn because he couldn’t afford the cost of a room.

  “Fine,” she said tiredly. “You can stay. But you don’t have to use your bedroll. There’s a room in the loft of the barn with a bed, and a small bathroom. I’ll have Keith show you the way.”

  Shaking her head, Maris turned and walked away. Watching her go, Luke admitted total and complete perplexity about Maris Wyler. She was wearing cutoff jeans, an old T-shirt and sneakers, and the dirt on her clothing, hands and legs evidenced a day of hard work. For certain she wasn’t the kind of woman Luke was usually drawn to. Melissa Avery, with her gorgeous blue eyes and long dark hair was much more his type. But it was Maris he felt in his loins, not Melissa. How in hell did a man figure that one out?

  Well…at least he had a free bed for the night. And maybe by morning Maris would realize what a good deal he had offered her.

  Like he’d said, it would benefit both of them.

  Three

  Maris did give Luke’s offer a lot of thought that night, and there was one aspect of the arrangement that kept popping into her mind and turning her off on the deal: the fact that Luke Rivers, rodeo bum, would be living on the ranch. Forcing herself to remember the details of that night in the bar in Casper, she finally recalled the woman who had to have been Luke’s date for the evening—a vivacious young blonde wearing tight, tight jeans and a low-cut blouse that displayed her ample cleavage. It was a disturbing image, indicating quite clearly the type of woman Luke Rivers preferred.

  The problem, of course, was that she had no alternative solutions to choose over Luke’s. If Luke wasn’t just bragging and throwing his machismo around and he actually got those horses ready for sale by the end of September, her financial worries would vanish in the fall. Or most of them, at least.

  Maris walked the floor half the night. There was so much to consider. Money for this, money for that. Putting the ranch up for sale had occurred to her, of course, but she loved the place, which had been in Ray’s family for several generations. Ray had been the first Wyler in decades who hadn’t been completely contented with his lot as a rancher. There’d been a restlessness in Ray, Maris had always known, some kind of inner force that made him seek excitement…such as the rodeo circuit…and gambling…and other women.

  Despondent at the turn of her thoughts, Maris snapped off the light, crawled into bed and drew the covers up to her chin. A bright moon shone through the window, and she thought of Luke Rivers in that little loft bedroom. Did she want him in that room every night for weeks and weeks? Did she want him at the table with her and Keith, meal after meal? Then her thoughts flipped. Was she judging Luke too harshly because he reminded her of Ray? Oh, not in looks, for pity’s sake. The two men looked nothing alike. Ray had been a slight man, not much taller than her, with light hair and pale brown eyes, and Luke was…Luke was…

  Well, he was just too darned good-looking, that’s what he was. And he made her…uncomfortable. Yes, that was the word. Luke Rivers made her very uncomfortable. Now, why do you suppose that was? she thought with a perplexed frown. Certainly he wasn’t apt to make a pass when he preferred leggy blondes with overdeveloped chests.

  That entire subject was unnerving to Maris. Punching her pillow into a different shape, she grumpily told herself to put Luke Rivers out of her mind and get some sleep.

  Luke didn’t sleep well, either. His mind wouldn’t shut down, an
d nearly everyone he’d ever known paraded through his brain. The specter that bothered him the most was the one of Ray Wyler. Why in heck had Ray bought so many unbroken horses? Luke was positive Ray hadn’t been an experienced handler, and Ray’s personality had been erratic and sometimes downright unstable. Luke would bet anything that Ray’s idea of breaking horses had been to tie down the animal, throw a saddle on its back and ride it to exhaustion. He probably would have used the whip on the balky ones, too, beating them into submission. Luke hated cruelty to animals, and more than once had stepped between a man with a whip and a horse.

  It was odd then the way his thoughts moved from Ray Wyler and horses to Ray Wyler and Maris. But Luke had seen for himself how Ray had treated Maris. The embarrassing episode in that Casper tavern could have been an isolated incident for the Wylers, but Luke really didn’t think so.

  Maris puzzled him. She conveyed determined independence and female vulnerability, both at the same time, and he’d be willing to bet that she’d huff up and do battle with anyone who dared to mention her vulnerability. Maybe she wasn’t even aware of it herself.

  Luke had one more point to ponder about Maris Wyler. He had the impression that Ray’s fatal accident hadn’t happened that long ago, but she honestly didn’t appear to be a grieving widow. True, she had a lot to deal with—the ranch, very little money and no help other than Keith. But she had told him about Ray’s accident without a dram of emotion, and wouldn’t a woman who had loved her husband be devastated for months after his death?

  On the other hand, his own mother hadn’t mourned openly for any great length of time after his father had died, and Luke was positive his parents had had a good and happy marriage. Maybe some women recovered more quickly than others. Or maybe they did their crying when they were alone.

  He frowned at the possibility of Maris crying into her pillow after dark when no one could see her. The idea of her crying at all was surprisingly discomfiting.

  “Aw, hell,” he mumbled, and turned to his side to get more comfortable. Maris Wyler’s emotions or lack thereof were none of his business. All he wanted from her was an agreement on the deal he’d offered. She wasn’t all that great, anyway. Hadn’t she let him drive to town for supper, rather than inviting him in to eat with her and Keith?

  That was all he wanted from Maris Wyler, he thought again, getting drowsy, an agreement on his offer. Then he would break her horses, collect his three thousand dollars, pick himself a good cutting horse out of the herd and leave the Wyler ranch and Whitehorn, Montana, for good.

  He’d be back on the rodeo circuit in October. It was a satisfying thought to fall asleep with.

  Keith was preparing to leave the kitchen with a bowl of bread and milk for the stray dog, which had been bedded down on an old blanket in the toolshed.

  Maris was stirring a pot of oatmeal on the stove. “Keith, please go by the barn and tell Luke that he’s welcome to join us for breakfast.”

  “Okay.” Keith stopped at the door. “Uh…are you gonna take his deal?”

  Maris hesitated, then nodded. “I think so.” She threw a hopefully brave smile at her young friend. “It’s the only game in town right now, Keith.”

  “Yeah, guess it is.”

  From the kitchen window, Maris watched Keith go into the toolshed with the dog’s breakfast. Before he came out again, she spotted Luke walking from the barn. “At least you’re not a slugabed,” she mumbled. It wasn’t yet 6:00 a.m., and Luke’s early appearance was a good sign.

  Keith came out of the toolshed with the stray pooch on his heels. Luke veered directions to meet the boy halfway. “’Morning, Keith. Who’s your friend?”

  Bending over, Keith scratched the dog’s ears. “I don’t know her name. She’s a stray. Someone probably dropped her off on the highway. She looks a lot better this morning than she did last night.”

  Luke grinned down at the scruffy animal. “Looks like she could use a bath.”

  Keith straightened. “Yeah, she does. I’m hoping Maris will let me keep her. I’d buy her food with my own money.”

  Luke could see that the boy was fond of the motley little mutt. “Can’t think of any reason why Maris wouldn’t let her stay.”

  Keith suddenly remembered what Maris had asked him to do. “You’re invited to breakfast.” Keith’s cheeks got pink. “If you wanna eat with us, that is.”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “Come on in, then. Breakfast was almost done when I came outside a few minutes ago.”

  Luke followed Keith into the house. The dog tried to follow, as well, but Keith stopped her at the door. “Stay, girl,” he said, and the little dog sat down next to the steps.

  “’Morning, Maris,” Luke said. She was dressed in worn jeans and a white T-shirt, and she looked as fresh as the morning dew. He caught himself staring at her pretty, sun-streaked hair and abruptly turned his gaze.

  “Good morning. Everything’s ready. You two go ahead and sit down while I pour the coffee.”

  Luke waited until Keith sat at his place, then decided that the one nearest the stove would be Maris’s spot at the table and sat in the third chair. In front of him was a large bowl of steaming oatmeal, a glass of orange juice and a cup awaiting coffee. The center of the table contained a pitcher of milk, a sugar bowl, a jar of peanut butter, a small bowl of jam—strawberry, it looked like—and a plate heaped with toast.

  Maris came around the table and filled his cup with coffee, then went to her place and poured her own. Keith, Luke noted, had a glass for milk along with his glass of orange juice.

  Maris took her seat. “Dig in,” she said while looking at Luke. “It’s not fancy but it’s filling.”

  “It looks…great.” Oatmeal was not his favorite breakfast food, but he would never say so. Maris got up to switch on the small radio on the counter. “For the weather report,” she explained, resuming her place at the table.

  They ate with very little conversation. Keith, Maris realized, was shy around Luke, and since she couldn’t think of any small talk that made sense, they mostly listened to the morning news and finally the weather report. “Scattered clouds, with the temperature reaching ninety degrees. A great day, folks.”

  Keith devoured the last toast on the plate after slathering it with strawberry jam, then got up and carried his dishes to sink. “Want me to work on those fences again today, Maris?”

  “Later, Keith.” Maris stood up and began gathering her own dishes. “First I’d like you to drive to town and buy that skinny dog some regular dog food.”

  Keith’s face broke out in a big grin. “Then she can stay?”

  She smiled. “I think we need a dog on the place, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I sure do.”

  “Remember, though, Keith, someone might come along and claim her. She could have merely strayed away from home on her own.”

  “I’ll remember. I’ve been thinking up names for her, but I bet she’s been called ‘Blackie.’ What do you think?”

  “Seems appropriate,” Maris said with a laugh. She dug out a ten-dollar bill from a pocket in her jeans and held it out to Keith.

  “I’ll buy her food, Maris,” Keith said with a prideful lift of his chin. “I’d like to do it.”

  She studied the young boy. Keith’s eyes contained a joyful light that touched her deeply. Nodding, she tucked the ten back into her pocket. “Drive carefully.”

  “I will. And thanks, Maris.” Keith grabbed his big hat from the hook by the door and eagerly bounded out.

  Luke started to get up and Maris reached for the coffeepot. “We need to talk. Would you like more coffee?”

  He’d been wondering when she would get around to telling him her decision. Sinking back to his chair, Luke nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

  After their cups were refilled, Maris sat down and regarded Luke across the table. Impersonally, she hoped, since impersonal was the only way she wanted their relationship. “I’m going to accept your offer, if you accept my condition
s.”

  His hopes ignited. “What are they?” he asked casually, pretending that his gut wasn’t tied in a knot. This deal was maybe the most important of his life, the new start he desperately needed.

  Looking directly at Luke’s handsome face made Maris nervous, and she dropped her gaze to the table in front of her. “No drinking on the place. Not even beer. And should you overindulge somewhere else, don’t come back here to sleep it off.”

  “Agreed,” Luke said quietly. He wasn’t much of a drinker—a few beers once in a while—so this condition was no hardship. “What else?”

  “No women.” Maris’s face colored. “I mean, of course, no women on the ranch. What you do in your own time is of no concern to me. I just don’t want you bringing a woman here. Keith is at an impressionable age, and—”

  Luke broke in brusquely. “Don’t worry about it. There won’t be any women.”

  “Fine. Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I won’t expect you to work seven days a week, but I would like as much of your time spent working with the horses as you can manage.”

  “I don’t need any days off. I probably will work seven days a week.” He leaned forward slightly. “Maris, I want this job over and done with as soon as possible. Don’t worry about me goofing off when I should be working.”

  “You want it over with so you can get back to rodeo,” she said tonelessly.

  “I know you don’t like rodeo, but I’m not going to be embarrassed every time it comes up in conversation. It’s what I do, Maris, what I’ve done since I was old enough to leave home.”

  Maris mustered up a shrug. “It’s nothing to me.” Her gaze sought Luke’s across the table. “Well…do we have a deal then?”

  “We do as far as I’m concerned.” Relieved and elated that it had gone so easily, Luke shaped a tentative smile. “Should we shake hands on it?”

  Maris got to her feet and began clearing the table. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ve struck a bargain and I’m sure we’ll both abide by it.”