Hazard Ranch

by Joan Johnston

  Harry allowed her mother to admonish her to take better care of herself before she finally said, “I have to be getting back to the ranch. I’ve got stock that needs tending.”

  She rose and hugged her mother, father and brother, wishing things could be different, that she hadn’t lived her life by pretending to fail. She would prove she could make it on her own if it was the last thing she did. Harry wished her family a pleasant drive from Big Timber to the airport in Billings, and a safe flight home. “I’ll be in touch,” she promised.

  They would never know the effort it took to summon the confident smile with which she left them. “Things should be less hectic for me later in the summer,” she said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you then.”

  She could tell from their anxious faces that they didn’t want to leave her in Montana alone. She reassured them the best she could with, “I’m all right, really. A little tired from all the hard work. But I love what I’m doing. It’s challenging. And rewarding.”

  Harry smiled and waved as she left the restaurant. She was out the door before she realized Nathan Hazard had been standing behind her left shoulder the whole time she’d been waving good-bye.

  “I’ll follow you home,” he said.

  “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

  Nathan looked up at a sky that was dark with storm clouds. “Looks like rain. All those potholes in your road, you could get stuck.”

  “If I do, Mr. Hazard, I’ll dig myself out.” Harry indignantly stalked away, but had to yank three or four times on the door to Cyrus’s battered pickup before she finally got inside. She spent the entire trip home glaring at Nathan Hazard’s pickup in her rearview mirror. He followed her all the way up to the tiny cabin door.

  Harry hopped out of the pickup and marched back to Nathan’s truck. He had the window down and his elbow stuck out.

  “Rain, huh?” Harry said, looking up as the sun peered through the clouds, creating a glare on his windshield.

  “Could have.”

  “Sheep dip,” Harry said succinctly. “I’ve had it with helpful neighbors. From now on I want you to stay off my property. Stay away from me, and don’t do me any more favors!”

  “All right, Harry-et,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “We’ll do it your way. For a while.”

  “For good!” Harry snapped back.

  It was doubtful Nathan heard her, because he’d already turned his pickup around and headed back down the jouncy dirt road.

  Harry kicked at a stone and sent it flying across the barren yard. Yes, the work was hard, and yes, she was tired. But she’d loved every minute of the challenge she’d set for herself. Before her talk with Nathan Hazard today she’d indulged fully in the satisfaction of knowing she’d done it all by herself. Damn him! Damn his interference! Damn the man for being such a damn good kisser!

  If Nathan Hazard knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t show his face around here anytime soon.

  CHAPTER 4

  What do you do when people drop by to visit and they haven’t been invited?

  Answer: Serve them coffee.

  Harry was standing in the pigpen, slopping the hogs and thinking about Nathan, when she spied a pickup bumping down the dirt road that led to her place. At first she feared it was her nemesis and began tensing for another battle with Nathan. But the battered truck wasn’t rusted in the right places to be Nathan’s. After two months of being left so completely alone, Harry was surprised to have visitors. She couldn’t help wondering who had come to see her, and why.

  The man who stepped out of the driver’s side of the beat-up vehicle was a stranger. Harry stood staring as a beautiful woman dressed in form-fitting jeans and a fleece-lined denim jacket shoved open the passenger door of the truck. The couple exchanged a glance that led Harry to believe they must be married, probably some of her neighbors, finally come to call.

  The slight blond woman approached her and said, “Hello, I’m Abigail Dayton. Fish and Wildlife Service.”

  Harry was dumbfounded. The woman was a government official! What on earth was someone from the Fish and Wildlife Service doing here? Her heart caught in her throat, keeping her from responding. Her mind searched furiously for the reason for such a visit. Had she done something wrong? Broken some law? Forgotten to fill out some form? Had she let too many lambs die? Was there a penalty for that?

  Harry recognized the instinct to flee and fought it. She had come west to start over, to confront her problems and deal with them. She would have to face this woman and find out what she wanted. Only first she had to get out of the pigpen, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

  Harry finally resorted to climbing over the top of the pen instead of going through the gate, which was wired shut. She heard a rip when her overalls caught on a stray barb but ignored it as she extended her hand to the Fish and Wildlife agent. When the woman didn’t take her hand immediately, Harry realized she was still wearing her work gloves, tore them off and tried again. “I’m Harriet Alistair. People mostly call me Harry.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Harry,” Abigail said. She shook Harry’s hand once, then let it go.

  Harry turned and looked steadily at the tall, dark-haired, gray-eyed man standing beside Abigail Dayton, until he finally held out a callused hand and said, “I’m Luke Granger, your neighbor to the south. Sorry I haven’t been over to see you sooner.”

  Harry was so glad Luke Granger was just a neighbor and not another government official that she smiled, exposing the tiny space between her teeth, and said, “I’ve been pretty busy myself. It’s good to meet you.”

  So, one agent, one neighbor. Not related. But still no explanation as to why they’d come.

  Harry felt a growing discomfort as she watched Luke and Abigail survey her property. It wasn’t that they openly displayed disgust or disbelief at what they saw; in fact, they were both careful to keep their expressions neutral. But a tightening of Luke’s jaw and a clenching of Abigail’s hand made their feelings plain.

  Harry wasn’t exactly ashamed of her place. After all, she was hardly responsible for the sad state of repairs. But her stomach turned over when Abigail narrowed her green-eyed gaze on the stack of dead lambs beside the barn that were only partially covered by a black plastic tarp. Harry waited for the official condemnation that was sure to come.

  “Have you seen any wolves around here?” Abigail asked.

  “Wolves?” That wasn’t at all what Harry had been expecting the Fish and Wildlife agent to say. The thought of wolves somewhere on her property was terrifying. “Wolves?” she repeated.

  “A renegade timber wolf killed two of Luke’s sheep,” Abigail continued. “I wondered if you’ve suffered any wolf depredation on your spread.”

  “Not that I know of,” Harry said. “I didn’t even know there were any wolves around here.”

  “There aren’t many,” Abigail reassured her. “And there’s going to be one less as soon as I can find and capture the renegade that killed Luke’s sheep.”

  Harry watched a strange tension flare between her two visitors at Abigail’s pronouncement. Before Harry had time to analyze it further, Abigail asked, “Have you seen any wolf sign at all?”

  Harry grimaced and shook her head. “I wouldn’t know it if I saw it. But you’re welcome to take a look around.”

  “I think I will if you really don’t mind.”

  Abigail carefully looked the grounds over with Luke by her side. Harry did her best to keep them headed away from the tiny log cabin. She’d already tasted their disapproval once and was reluctant to have them observe the primitive conditions in-which she lived. However, before Harry knew it, they were all three standing at her kitchen door. There wasn’t much she could do except invite them inside.

  Harry felt a flush of embarrassment stain her cheeks when both Luke and Abigail stopped dead just inside the door. The scene that greeted them in the kitchen was pretty much the same one that had greeted Nathan the first time he’d
come to visit. Only now there were six lambs sleeping on a blanket wadded in the corner instead of just one. The shambles in Harry’s kitchen gave painful evidence of how hard she was struggling to cope with the responsibilities she’d assumed on Cyrus Alistair’s death. Harry didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

  Abigail finally broke the looming silence. “I’d love some coffee. Wouldn’t you, Luke?”

  Grateful for the simple suggestion, Harry urged her company to seat themselves at the kitchen table. While she made coffee, Harry lectured herself about how it didn’t really matter what these people thought. The important thing was that she’d survived the past two months.

  Harry poured three cups of coffee and brought them to the table, then seated herself across from Abigail, who was saying something about how wolves weren’t really as bad as people thought, and how their reputation had been exaggerated by all those fairy tales featuring a Big Bad Wolf.

  Harry wasn’t convinced. She took a sip of the hot, bitter coffee and said, “I’ve been meaning to learn how to use a rifle in case I had trouble with predators, but—”

  Abigail leaped up out of her chair in alarm. “You can’t shoot a timber wolf! They’re an endangered species. They’re protected!”

  “I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t know.” She shook her head in disgust. “There’s just so much I don’t know.”

  Abigail sat back down a little sheepishly. “I’m afraid I tend to get on my high horse whenever the discussion turns to wolves.”

  Harry ran her fingers aimlessly across the pamphlets and brochures that littered the table, shouting her ignorance of sheep ranching to anyone who cared to notice.

  “You really shouldn’t leave those dead lambs lying around, though,” Abigail said. “They’re liable to attract predators.”

  Harry chewed on her lower lip. “I know I’m supposed to bury them, but I just can’t face the thought of doing it.”

  “I’ve got some time right now,” Luke said. “Why don’t you let me help?”

  Harry leaned forward to protest. “But I can’t pay—”

  “Neighbors don’t have to pay each other for lending a helping hand,” he said brusquely. A moment later he was out the door.

  “You know, I bet there’s a really nice man behind that stony face he wears,” Harry said as she stared after him.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Abigail said. “I only met him this morning.”

  “Oh, I thought…” Harry didn’t finish her thought, discouraged by the shuttered look on Abigail’s face. There was something going on between Luke and Abigail, all right. But if they’d just met, the sparks must have been pretty instantaneous. Just like the desire that had flared between her and Nathan. Harry felt an immediate affinity to the other woman. After all, they’d both been attracted to rough-hewn Montana sheepmen.

  Abigail rose and took her coffee cup to the sink, and without Harry quite being aware how it happened, Abigail was soon washing the mound of dirty dishes while Harry dried them and put them away. While they worked, they talked, and Harry found herself confiding to Abigail, “Sometimes I wake up in the morning and wonder how long it’ll take me to get this place into shape, or if I ever will.”

  “Why would you want to?” Abigail blurted. “I mean…This place needs a lot of work.”

  Harry’s sense of humor got the better of her, and she grinned. “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. This place is a wreck.”

  “So tell me why you’re staying,” Abigail urged.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’d like to hear it.”

  Harry took a deep breath and let it out. “All right.”

  It was a tremendous relief to Harry to be able to tell someone—someone who had no reason to be judgmental—how she’d lived her life. Abigail’s interested green eyes and sympathetic oohs and ahs helped Harry relate the various fiascos that littered her past. It wasn’t until she started talking about Nathan Hazard that words became really difficult to find.

  “At first I was so grateful he was there,” Harry said as she explained how Nathan had helped in the birthing of the dead lamb and its twin. “I think that was why I was so angry when it turned out he’d only come because he wanted to buy this place from me.

  “I’m determined to manage on my own, but the man keeps popping up when I least expect him. And somehow, every time we’ve crossed paths, we end up—”

  “End up what?”

  “Kissing,” Harry admitted. “I know that sounds absurd—”

  “Not so absurd as you think,” Abigail muttered. “Must be more to these Montana sheepmen then meets the eye,” she said with a rueful smile.

  “Nathan Hazard is driving me crazy,” Harry said. What she didn’t add, couldn’t find words to explain, was how every time she inevitably ended up in his arms, the fire that rose between them seemed unquenchable. “I wish he’d just leave me alone.”

  That wasn’t precisely true. What she wanted was a different kind of attention from Nathan Hazard than she was getting. Something more personal and less professional. But that was too confusing, and much too complicated, to contemplate.

  Harry looked around her and was amazed to discover that while she’d been talking Abigail had continued doing chores around the kitchen. The dishes were washed, the floor was swept, the counters were clear and the brochures on the table had been separated into neat stacks. Several lambs had woken, and Abigail had matter-of-factly joined Harry on the floor to help her bottle-feed the noisy bums.

  “Have you thought about getting a hired hand to help with the heavy work?” Abigail asked.

  “Can’t afford one,” Harry admitted. “Although Mr. Wilkinson at the bank said there’s a shepherd who’ll keep an eye on my flock once I get it moved onto my federal lease in the mountains for the summer. Anyway, I’m determined to make it on my own.”

  “That’s a laudable goal,” Abigail said. “But is it realistic?”

  “I thought so,” Harry mused. “Since I didn’t know a thing about sheep ranching when I arrived in Montana, I’ve made my share of mistakes. But I’m learning fast.”

  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Abigail said, “but why on earth don’t you just sell this place—”

  “To Nathan Hazard? Don’t get me started again. I’ll never sell to that man. Nathan Hazard is the meanest, ugliest son of a—”

  Harry never got a chance to finish her sentence because Luke arrived at the door and announced, “I’ve buried those lambs. Anything else you’d like me to do while I’m here?”

  “No thanks,” Harry said, scrambling to her feet. “We’re about finished here.” She put the empty nippled Coke bottle on the kitchen counter and said, “I really appreciate your help, Luke.”

  “You’re welcome, anytime.”

  It took a moment for Harry to realize that although Luke was speaking to her, his attention was totally absorbed by the woman still sitting on the floor feeding the last ounce of milk replacer to a hungry lamb. From the look on Luke’s face it appeared he would gladly take the lamb’s place. Harry had wondered why Luke had come visiting with the Fish and Wildlife agent. Now she had her answer.

  Harry was envious of what she saw in Luke Granger’s eyes. No man had ever looked at her with such raw hunger, such need.

  Unless you counted Nathan Hazard.

  Harry watched as Abigail raised her eyes to Luke, a beatific smile on her face, watched as the smile faded, watched as Abigail’s eyes assumed the wary look of an animal at bay.

  Luke’s gray eyes took on a feral gleam, and his muscles tensed and coiled in readiness.

  The hunter. And the hunted. Harry recognized the relationship because she’d felt it herself. With Nathan Hazard.

  An instant later Luke reached out a hand and pulled Abigail to her feet. Harry was uncomfortably aware of the frisson of sexual attraction that arced between them as they touched. She observed their cautious movements as Abigail inched past Luke
in the tiny kitchen and joined Harry at the sink.

  “I suppose Luke and I should get going,” Abigail said. “We’ve got a few more ranchers to ask about wolf sightings before the day’s done. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Harry. I wish you luck with your ranch.”

  “Thanks,” Harry said with a smile, as she escorted Abigail and Luke back outside. “I need all the luck I can get.” She turned to Luke and said, “I hope you’ll come back and visit again soon, neighbor.”

  “Count on it,” he replied, tipping his Stetson.

  “And I hope you capture that renegade wolf,” Harry said to Abigail.

  Harry watched as Abigail gave Luke a determined, almost defiant, look and said, “Count on it.”

  Abigail had trouble getting the passenger door of the pickup open, and Harry was just about to lend a hand when Luke stepped up and yanked it free. Abigail frowned at him and said, “I could have done that.”

  He shrugged. “Never said you couldn’t.” But he waited for her to get inside and closed the door snugly behind her before heading around to the driver’s side of the truck.

  “So long,” Harry shouted after them as they drove away. “Careful on that road. It’s a little bumpy!” A perfect farewell, Harry thought with an ironic twist of her mouth, seeing as how this had been a day for understatement.

  Harry felt sorry to see them leave. She was probably being unnecessarily stubborn about trying to manage all by herself. Nathan Hazard was convinced she couldn’t manage on her own. She should probably take advantage of Luke’s offer of help and avoid making any more costly mistakes. But the whole purpose of coming to Montana, of putting herself in this isolated position, was to prove that she could do anything she set her mind to do on her own. She wasn’t the person she’d led her parents to believe she was.

  Harry had realized over the past two months that she wanted to prove that fact to herself even more than she wanted to prove it to them.