The Rancher's Request

by Stella Bagwell

  Her nostrils pinched together as she stared angrily at him. “I don’t really know what your position is on this ranch, but I’ve had just about enough of your pious attitude. I haven’t committed any crime here. According to a lot of folks in Goliad, it’s common knowledge that Nate and Sara Ketchum, the former owners of this ranch had a—well, let’s just call it a colorful relationship. And since Nate’s murder was never solved, it’s still of local interest.”

  “That’s what you think,” he quipped.

  “No, that’s what my editor thinks. He believes the whole issue would make a good story for the paper. I tried to deter him from the idea, but he insisted I ask as many questions as possible.” She shook her head in a regretful way. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to hang on to my job.”

  He glanced away from her pained expression. “Hell of a way to do it.”

  Juliet bristled all over again. Maybe in his eyes she had been in the wrong, but he could be a little more understanding. Somehow she figured this hard man didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  “What would you know about needing a job?” she asked. “Looks to me like you were born into riches.”

  Why was it so easy for outsiders to look around the Sandbur and think that the ranch simply made itself, he wondered. Outsiders could never imagine the long, back-breaking labor that was put into this estate to keep it one of the top cattle ranches in Texas. But then, he couldn’t expect this woman to understand. She’d probably spent most of her young life being educated in a private school in Dallas. He seriously doubted she’d ever had those manicured hands in a sink of dirty dishwater.

  “You don’t exactly look like you’ve just stepped out of the ghetto, Miss Madsen. But as for me, I’ve worked for everything I own.”

  Her chin lifted as she stared at him with angry disbelief. “And you think I haven’t?”

  His expression turned mocking as his eyes roamed up and down her curvy figure. “I really couldn’t say.”

  Anger propelled her closer and she jabbed a finger in the middle of his chest. “You don’t know anything about me. And being some sort of big chief around here doesn’t give you the right to be insulting!”

  He caught the finger pressing into his chest, then clamped his hand tightly around hers. “Let’s not worry about what I am. Let’s concentrate on what you are,” he growled in a low voice. “You’ve come to my home under false pretenses—”

  “That’s not true!” she interrupted hotly, her cheeks burning. “And you have to be the most—hateful bastard I’ve ever met!”

  One corner of his lips sneered upward. “You think so? You think I’m hateful for trying to protect my family from vultures like you?”

  “Vul-tt-ture!” she sputtered in outrage. Instant retaliation was the only thing on her mind as she lifted her free hand to slap his jaw.

  Matt caught her wrist in midair and then he was gripping both her hands, making it impossible for her to pull away as she stared at him in mute fury.

  “You shouldn’t have tried that, Miss Madsen,” he said in a cunningly smooth voice.

  The glitter in his dark green eyes electrified Juliet. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe or move the slightest muscle, even when she saw his head descending toward hers.

  “Let me go.”

  The three words were breathed out in a voice so tiny he could barely hear it.

  “Why? So you can try to slap me again?” he goaded.

  The urge to kick his shin shot through her head, but she didn’t have time to carry through with the strike. Before she knew what was happening, he jerked her forward and the front of her body slammed into his.

  The contact felt like running straight into a stone wall. The force snapped her head back and made the curls atop her head bounce wildly.

  “You—”

  The rest of her verbal attack was lost as his lips swooped down on hers. Like a vulnerable little mouse clutched in a hawk’s talons, he ravaged her mouth while she stood in a shocked, rigid stance. The heat of his body flowed into her like a sudden arc of electricity and from her head to her toes she felt her skin flushing bright pink.

  Just as abruptly as the kiss started it came to a shattering end as he ripped his lips away from hers and set her an arm’s length away.

  Dazed and gasping for air, she stared at him.

  He stared back as his eyes roamed over and over her face.

  “Consider that a lesson,” he finally said.

  His voice was low and husky and Juliet shivered inwardly. The man was more than sexy looking; he was Mr. Sensuality. Too bad he was bent on using his charms in the wrong way.

  Quickly, before he could see how stunned she’d been by his kiss, she gathered as much of her senses together as possible and asked coolly, “What sort of lesson would that be?”

  “To leave me and my family alone.”

  His blunt reply was as sharp as a knife. Juliet told herself it didn’t really hurt. She’d been spurned before. Yet she felt as if he’d sliced open an old wound and all the times she’d been rejected in the past had come up to slap her in the face.

  Drawing up her shoulders, she said, “If the rest of your family is anything like you, it will be a pleasure. Now if I’m excused, Mr. Sanchez, I’m going back inside. It’s cold out here and there’s no gentleman around to offer me his jacket.”

  His blood simmering, Matt watched her turn on a tall, delicate high heel and walk back into the house.

  Damn it all, he silently fumed. The newspaperwoman should have never been invited here and for two cents he’d question his Aunt Geraldine about her presence on Sandbur. But since a woman was something he never discussed with anyone, for any reason, he realized he wouldn’t take the issue that far. His aunt would think he’d cracked up. Besides, he wanted to push Juliet Madsen totally out of his thoughts. He wanted to forget he’d lost his head and kissed that Dallas woman.

  Inside the house Juliet quickly made her way to the restroom and, after locking the door, leaned weakly across the lavatory. A gilded mirror hung over the shallow basin and Juliet was horrified at the image she saw staring back at her.

  She looked ghostly pale, except for her lips—and they were almost cherry-red from the hard kiss Matt Sanchez had planted on them. Much of her naturally curly hair had come loose from its pins and several locks were now swinging in front of her eyes.

  She’d left her tiny handbag back in the kitchen under the table where she’d been sitting with the old cook, so she was without a compact, lipstick or comb. Her hands shook as she tried her best to finger comb her tumbled hair back into place and she scolded herself for having such a violent response to the man. It shouldn’t matter that he’d taken her unaware with that kiss. She’d been kissed before, she told herself.

  But not like that. For a few seconds you were swooning, dreaming of more.

  Disgusted with herself, she straightened the straps on her dress, then bravely stepped out of the room and back into the party.

  In the great room she was quickly swept onto the dance floor by one man and then another. The music was lively and normally Juliet loved to dance, but as each partner struck up a conversation, she found herself looking around the room, searching for him.

  Eventually, Juliet decided she’d lost the partying mood and decided to retrieve her purse from the kitchen and head home. She’d already gotten what she’d come for anyway. And more, she thought dismally.

  When Juliet entered the kitchen, she found Cook stirring up another bowl of punch. She told the older woman goodbye, then collected her wrap and left the house through the nearest exit. As for thanking Geraldine Saddler for the wedding invitation, she’d do that later through a card in the mail.

  Outside the massive, hacienda-style house, the clouds had grown even heavier than when she and Matt were on the patio. The wind was chillier and she gathered the velvet stole higher on her arms as she hurried to her parked car.

  Juliet was so intent on getting away from the ranch she almo
st missed the young girl sitting on one of the half-buried railroad ties that lined the edge of the driveway. She was wearing a long, pale pink dress and her light brown hair flowed in waves down her back. If it weren’t for the lost expression on her face, she would have looked totally adorable.

  Curious as to why the girl was out here alone, Juliet walked over to her.

  “Hello,” she said warmly.

  The girl, who appeared to be twelve or thirteen, glumly glanced up at her.

  “Hi,” she mumbled.

  “Why aren’t you inside enjoying the party?”

  Bending her head, the girl plucked absently at her skirt. “Why aren’t you?”

  Carefully, Juliet sat down next to the girl, while telling herself it didn’t matter if creosote stained the seat of her dress. The child emanated sadness, an emotion that Juliet was well acquainted with, and she couldn’t leave until she’d found out what was upsetting her.

  “Well, I don’t really know anyone around here and I’m not all that good at talking to strangers.” Or kissing them, either, Juliet thought wryly. “So I decided to head home.”

  Big brown eyes looked curiously up at Juliet. “I know everyone here today. Except for you. Are you a relative?”

  Juliet shook her head. “No. My name is Juliet Madsen and I write stories for the newspaper. I’m going to do one about the wedding.”

  “Oh.” The flicker of curiosity fell from her face and the corners of her lips turned downward. “Then I guess you know my daddy was a groomsman. You probably have all their names down and all that kind of stuff.”

  “That’s right. What’s your father’s name?”

  “Matt Sanchez. I’m Gracia Sanchez and my daddy’s the general manager of the Sandbur. Did you know that?”

  Juliet didn’t know why she was so stunned to discover that Matt Sanchez had a daughter. The man was probably closer to forty than he was thirty. He’d had plenty of time to acquire a family. But when he’d kissed her—well, she’d never imagined that he had a wife somewhere in the wedding crowd. Dear God, what if the woman had walked in on them? The idea burned Juliet with anger and embarrassment.

  “Uh—no. I didn’t know that. You must be very proud of him.”

  The girl shrugged. “I guess so. He’s always busy.”

  The simple statement said volumes and Juliet suddenly remembered her own childhood and a father who’d never been around. No matter if she’d needed him or not. Hugh Madsen’s indifference to his daughter’s life had left a deep wound inside Juliet, one that had never healed.

  Juliet nodded with understanding. “Most men usually are,” she said more wistfully than she’d intended, then looked pointedly at Gracia’s pink satin dress. “Your dress is beautiful. Did your mother let you pick it out yourself?”

  The girl’s eyes shadowed over and then she quickly glanced away from Juliet. “I picked it out myself. But I don’t have a mother. She died when I was six.”

  Juliet was suddenly struck with empathy for the girl. Looking at Gracia was like seeing herself twelve years ago.

  Gently, she reached over and stroked a strand of gold-brown hair lying on Gracia’s shoulder.

  “My mother died when I was eight,” Juliet told her. “So you don’t have to tell me how awful it is. I understand.”

  Gracia’s head twisted back around and she looked at Juliet with surprise. “Your mother died, too? Really? How come?”

  Juliet’s heart squeezed as faded memories of her ailing mother drifted to the forefront of her thoughts. Eva Madsen had been a softspoken, gentle woman who’d made Juliet’s world a magical place with smiles and laughter and a loving hand. When she’d passed away from cancer, Juliet’s life had never been the same.

  “She was sick for a long time and could never get well.”

  “Oh. My mother got hurt on a horse and died all of a sudden.”

  Juliet was suddenly thinking about Matt and how the tragedy must have affected him. He seemed such a stern, unyielding man it was hard to imagine him grieving. But people dealt with personal loss in different ways. For all she knew, the ranch manager might still be mourning his wife’s death.

  “I’m sorry, Gracia. But sometimes bad things happen to nice people.”

  She gave Juliet a solemn nod as though she’d already accepted such a fact. “Do you have a stepmom?”

  Juliet shook her head. “I only have a father and no brothers or sisters.”

  A petulant look suddenly stole over the young girl’s sweet face. “Me, too. And that’s why I don’t like being inside today—with the wedding going on. My daddy won’t—”

  “Gracia! Finally, I’ve found you!”

  Matt’s voice interrupted his daughter’s words and both girl and woman looked over their shoulders to see him rapidly descending upon them. The cowman’s strides were long and purposeful, his expression dour. Juliet felt herself bracing for his presence and when his eyes zeroed in on her face, she unconsciously rose to her feet.

  “You! What are you doing out here with my daughter?” he asked sharply.

  How could she have had one sympathetic thought for this man, Juliet wondered. Too bad she hadn’t managed to get that slap off. Whacking his jaw would have given her supreme pleasure.

  “I’m trying to get to my car and go home.”

  His jaw tightened. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”

  “You don’t know what anything looks like,” Juliet shot back.

  His gaze settled on her lips and Juliet felt her cheeks fill with unaccustomed heat. Had she actually kissed this man? It seemed impossible and yet all she had to do was look at him and her lips burned with the memory.

  “I warned you to stay away from my family, Miss Madsen. And my daughter is definitely off-limits to—”

  “Daddy!” Gracia exclaimed as she jumped to her feet and stared at him in horrified embarrassment. “What are you doing? Juliet is my friend and—”

  Stepping forward, he placed a hand on his daughter’s slender shoulder. “Juliet is not your friend. You don’t even know the woman.”

  The girl shot Juliet a wounded look, then stabbed her father with a tearful gaze.

  “Juliet is my friend,” she practically shouted. “And you’re being mean and bossy! You never want me to have any friends. Never!”

  Jerking away from her father, the girl took off in an awkward run toward the house. It was all Juliet could do not to race after her. The child needed comfort and understanding; two things that she obviously wasn’t going to get from this man. But it wasn’t her place to give his child solace and he’d be the first one to point that out.

  “Feel good now?” Juliet quipped. “Now that you’ve gotten her away from the evil reporter?”

  Matt jerked his gaze off his daughter’s retreating back to scowl at Juliet. “Damn it! See what you’ve done! It’s time for pictures and now her face is going to be all red. You’re a real piece of work,” he gritted.

  Forgetting what happened the last time she got close to him, Juliet stepped right in his face. “Your daughter and I were doing just fine until you butted in. But you were so dead set on insulting me that you didn’t care whether you hurt and embarrassed her. God, what a cretin you are!”

  “If I knew what that meant—”

  “It means you have the mental equivalency of an idiot!” she interrupted hotly. “If you haven’t looked lately, your daughter is hurting. You ought to focus a little of your time on her instead of worrying about your family’s past skeletons!”

  Once she’d blasted the words at him, she turned on her heel and began to march in the direction of her car.

  Behind her, Matt yelled, “My family doesn’t have any skeletons!”

  Juliet paused long enough to glance back at him. “Everyone has skeletons, Mr. Sanchez. Even you.”

  Chapter Two

  “I tried, Mr. Gilbert, but Mr. Sanchez practically booted me off the ranch. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t want any such storie
s in the paper about his family. And frankly, sir, I think you’d have a lawsuit on your hands if you did print anything containing the legend of the buried money or the old man’s murder.” Juliet tried to reason with her boss.

  It was Monday morning, two days after the Sandbur wedding, and the editor of the Fannin Review was pacing around Juliet’s small office like a man possessed. He wasn’t happy about her failure to dig up personal information on the ranch’s old matriarch and the money she’d supposedly buried to keep from her husband. But then David Gilbert was never happy. Heading toward his sixtieth birthday, he was a frail man with thinning brown hair and a perpetual frown. He’d taken over the reins of the weekly newspaper from his father, who’d died unexpectedly only a few short weeks after he’d retired. From what Juliet could see, he was a man who privately wished he were anywhere but at his job.

  “Let him try. Just because that family is probably the richest in Goliad County doesn’t mean he can keep the press from public information.”

  Dear Lord, the man sounded as if he was running some newspaper on Capitol Hill in Washington, instead of a weekly review of small town Texas life, Juliet thought.

  Sitting comfortably behind her desk, she tried not to groan out loud with disbelief. “I’m not sure his family’s money is public information, Mr. Gilbert. They just might take you to task.”

  The older man stopped to toss a challenging look her way. “Just let them. I’ll be ready. In the meantime, I want you to see what else you can find about the matter. Dig through our old archives, I’m sure there will be something on Nate Ketchum’s death. Look through some of the neighboring papers, too. The murder had to have been big news back then.”

  Any other time, Juliet would have been excited to be working on such a story: love, marriage, money, murder and one of the richest families in the area. Readers loved such things. But in spite of her squaring off with Matt, she’d come away from Raine Ketchum’s marriage with the impression that the Saddler and Sanchez families, co-owners of the Sandbur, were nice, genuine people. She didn’t want to hurt or anger any of them.