by Carol Ross
“But...I called you. Why didn’t you call me back?”
“You have my phone, sweetheart.”
Lydia let out a groan. She’d forgotten. He’d given her his phone that morning and she’d put it...in the car. “I must have left it in the SUV. It’s at the airport in Missoula.”
He chuckled. “You know, I’m glad. I’m not sure what I would have said... I’m not proud of the fact that it took me a few days to get to this place, and then come here to Philadelphia. Zach and Sofie deserve a little of the credit, as do Tom and Willa, and Scooter, and Pops, and June and Emma, and everyone else back in Falcon Creek who’ve fallen in love with you. It was stupid of me not to see that you fell in love with all of them right back.”
“I did.”
“But I love you the most, Lydia.”
“Oh, Jon, I love you, too.” She leaned forward, drew him close and hugged him tightly. “Let’s go home.”
“How soon can you be ready?”
“I’m ready now.”
He drew back enough to look at her. “No, I mean, for good. How long will it take you to pack? I thought we could rent a truck and drive back. It’s a couple of thousand miles. That’s about three days of driving. I wish we could take our time and see some sights, but Ethan is on his way home to help Katie and me with Big E’s place. We could be back by—”
“My turn for a hush,” she teased, halting his words with a kiss. She said, “There’s no need to rent things and drive places. We will get on the first flight we can.”
“You’re telling me you don’t need to pack?” he asked skeptically.
She chuckled. “You still don’t quite get it, do you, Rancher Blackwell? Half of what I need is right here, and the rest is in Falcon Creek, Montana.”
* * *
A FEW NIGHTS LATER, Lydia marched into his office. “Jon, I need to talk to you.”
It had been a perfect evening. Lydia had cooked a delicious meal and over dinner they’d told the girls they were getting married. They’d squealed and hugged and danced and Jon despaired of them ever settling down. But, of course, Lydia had managed it.
Jon liked how she came in now without knocking. “All right. Come around here.” He raised a hand and circled a finger.
She moved closer. “I don’t know what to do about—”
Reaching out, he took hold of her hand and tugged her down onto his lap. With a little yelp, she landed on him and slipped her arms around his neck.
He tucked her close and nuzzled her neck. “What don’t you know?”
She giggled. Then she drew back to look at him. “Be serious for a second.”
A frisson of alarm went through him. He answered with a somber “Okay.”
“My goodness,” she said, eyes wide. “Not that serious. That’s your Rancher Grim-Face.”
Jon laughed and shook his head. “At least it’s not Rancher Grouch-Face.”
“Grim-Face is worse than Grouch-Face, Jon,” she quipped. “Please try and keep up. It’s not that difficult.”
“I am trying.” He kissed her, knowing that whatever she had to say couldn’t be that bad if she was teasing him. “I was actually going for sexy cowboy. What has you troubled?”
“Tonight, when I tucked them in, Genevieve and Abigail asked if they could call me Mom.”
Jon’s chest went tight as he watched her nibble her lip. Truly, it felt like his heart might explode. He swallowed. “Lydia, sweetheart, do you think this is a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m here. I’m not their mom. I mean, I would love to be, I want to be. And hopefully we’ll have more kids and I don’t want the twins to feel like I love them any less. They already feel like my daughters.” Jon loved the sound of that. They’d discussed their mutual desire for more children on the airplane. He was thrilled they were on the same page. “But I don’t know how you feel about it.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, please. I don’t ever want you to be anything else.”
“I couldn’t have picked a better mom for them, Lydia. I feel like it’s a dream come true.”
“Oh.” She let out a relieved sigh. “Good.” Her blue eyes sparkled as her face lit up with a smile as wide as the Montana sky. “Me, too.”
EPILOGUE
Kentucky Derby—first Saturday in May
“FINE DAY FOR a horse race, wouldn’t you say, Big E?”
Elias Blackwell looked up from where he sat in his plush box seat to greet his old friend, Dr. Rodney Gaither. Family and friends, and even those who didn’t care to claim him as the latter, called Elias Big E.
“That it is, Rod. Fine day indeed. It’s a dream come true for me to attend the Derby and I’m glad you’re here to share it with me.”
There, that wasn’t so difficult. And if Rod was surprised by Big E’s sincerity and imparting of emotion he didn’t show it. That was the sign of a true friend as far as he was concerned.
“Me, too, Big E. Thank you.”
Big E invited Rod to take a seat. He did, and they spent several minutes talking like old friends do, discussing horses, the bets they’d made, their wives, their wives’ silly hats and the virtues of bourbon neat versus hiding its fine flavor inside a mint julep. Neither of them was impatient to get to the real business between them.
Rod said, “I saw Jon in that TV interview the other day. Boy, I gotta say that was real neat. I know you don’t subscribe to his organic methods and whatnot, but he sure was convincing. I suspect his business is going to skyrocket. Demand seems to be growing for those heritage breeds, too.”
Big E’s response was a trio of slow nods. That was his hope. He still couldn’t think about Jon’s interview with Bethany without getting choked up. Pride was such a funny word. He’d been too proud to listen to his grandson when he should have and now that same word was oozing out of him like maple syrup and making him soft.
“I agree. I may be coming around, Rod, you never know.”
Rod leaned his head back and guffawed loudly.
Fact was, he was getting old.
That interview was just one item on a long list. He’d heard it called a bucket list, and he supposed in his case it was true. But the difference was, his list wasn’t only about the things he wanted to do. It was about the people he wanted to do them for, and the mistakes he needed to own. A man should do whatever he could for his family. Big E believed that even if his execution was a little rusty. “So, tell me about this opportunity at your clinic.”
Rod was a doctor of veterinary medicine, operating one of the premier equine veterinarian rehabilitation outfits in the country. He only hired the best of the best. Not even a favor owed could sway him there. Luckily, Big E’s grandson, Ethan, was brilliant and talented and didn’t require special favors where his skills were concerned.
Rod sat back and reached into his jacket pocket. “I don’t believe it’s tooting my own horn to say a position at my clinic is the highest accomplishment for any veterinarian. Particularly one fresh out of school. And I think you’ll find the starting salary satisfactory.”
He handed over the envelope. Big E read the address:
Dr. Ethan Blackwell, DVM
c/o Blackwell Ranch
Falcon Creek, MT
“I trust you on that score, Rod. Now, if you could hang on to this envelope and mail it after you hear from me, I sure would appreciate it. It won’t be long.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for a sneak peek at
the next installment of the
Return of the Blackwell Brothers,
when Ethan Blackwell’s homecoming doesn’t happen as planned in The Rancher’s Rescue by Cari Lynn Webb!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Her Montana Cowboy by Jeannie Watt.
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The Rancher’s Rescue
by Cari Lynn Webb
ETHAN BLACKWELL WAS surrounded by critically ill checking accounts.
Of course, up until two days ago, the only terminal checking account he’d been working with had been his own. He’d never expected his grandfather’s finances to need resuscitation too. He might’ve suspected Big E to be up to his usual manipulation if his grandfather was still in town. But Big E and his thirty-foot motorhome had departed four weeks ago in early April, without a farewell to anyone or a return date mentioned.
Before Ethan had walked away to build his life, his own way, Big E had accused Ethan of forsaking his family legacy and the land that had raised him to pursue a pretentious career in equestrian medicine. That day, Ethan had vowed to return to the Blackwell Ranch only for the reading of his grandfather’s will.
Though no funeral arrangements had been made and as far as the brothers knew, Big E was AWOL, not deceased, Ethan was back at the Blackwell Ranch, pacing around his grandfather’s oversize office and scowling at the paperwork nightmare scattered across the oak desk.
Jonathon, his older brother and the only reason Ethan had come home, strode into their grandfather’s office. Jon tossed his hat on one of the twin cigar-colored armchairs and dropped into the other. His dog, Trout, sat beside Jon’s boots and regarded Ethan as if the border collie was the deputy assistant his brother had brought in for backup. “Please tell me I heard you wrong on the phone.”
“That depends. What did you hear?” Ethan leaned against the rolltop desk.
“I thought I heard you tell me that you planned to search Big E’s bedroom.” There was no question in Jon’s certain tone. His brother had better hearing than a bat. But his gaze zeroed in on Ethan like a rifle scope, challenging Ethan to change his own mind.
“That’s exactly what I plan to do with your help,” Ethan said. “The money’s gotta be somewhere.”
Copyright © 2018 by Cari Lynn Webb
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Her Montana Cowboy
by Jeannie Watt
CHAPTER ONE
FOR THE PAST several months, Lillie Jean Hardaway had had only two kinds of luck—amazingly good and crazy bad. The seesaw was starting to get to her. Now, as she braced her palms against the door of her car and let her head hang down in defeat, she wondered how she was going to get herself out of this latest instance of crazy bad.
After a couple deep breaths, she stepped back, surveyed her surroundings. The Montana sun had disappeared behind the mountains shortly after her last attempt to drive out of the deep muddy ruts that stubbornly held her car captive, and it was getting dark. Soon it would be seriously dark, so she had to make a decision—follow the road, which, according to the weathered sign she’d passed as she’d turned off the main road, led to the H/H Ranch, or stay with her car and walk in the morning.
Tough choice.
If she was going to walk tonight, she needed to start soon. Her phone was fully charged, so she could use its flashlight when it became too dark to see. And she had her protection dog, Henry—a Chihuahua-dachshund mix wearing a Christmas sweater because it was the only warm garment she could find on short notice. Who knew that Montana was so cold in the spring?
Lillie wrapped her arms around herself as she stared down the long road. What kinds of predators lurked out there, waiting for the cover of darkness? She shuddered at the thought. She knew nothing about fighting off wolves. Should she carry a tire iron or something?
On the other hand, while she had a coat, she had no blanket and it was already getting cold.
Cold? Or wolves in the night?
Lillie went with cold. She and Henry could huddle together for warmth.
Letting out a long sigh, she walked around to the driver’s side to pop the truck latch. It took a little searching by the dim light that shone down into the packed trunk, but finally she found the tire iron under one of her three suitcases. She took it with her as she situated herself in the front seat of the car, reclining the seat back as far as it would go before settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long miserable night.
Yet another tick mark in the “this sucks” column of life. Lillie Jean’s mouth drooped. Until the beginning of this calendar year, she hadn’t had all that many bad experiences. Her childhood had been pleasant and uneventful. She deeply missed her mom, who’d succumbed to breast cancer two years ago, just before Lillie Jean’s twenty-fourth birthday, but after that devastating loss, life had once again shifted back into its normal path. She’d started her small business with her boyfriend, Andrew, who eventually became her fiancé, Andrew. Then, six months before the wedding, he’d become ex-fiancé/business-stealer Andrew.
Lillie Jean rubbed her forehead.
Naive, naive, naive.
Oh, did I mention the part about being naive?
Yeah. I got it. Never again.
She was starting from scratch—financially and emotionally. She was going to watch her back from here on out. If the past several months had taught her anything, it was that there were no excuses for being caught unaware. A little due diligence on her part, and she’d probably still be an owner of A Thread in Time, and she would have cut loose Andrew a long time ago, instead of being caught off guard and humiliated.
A howl in the distance brought Lillie Jean’s head up and made her heart beat a little faster. Cold was definitely better than wolves. Henry snuggled up against her as if to say, “Don’t worry. I’ll fight those wild beasts for you,” because her little dog had yet to figure out that he wasn’t ten feet tall. Lillie Jean stroked his ears, then reached out to touch the cool metal of the tire iron leaning against the gearshift and told herself to be thankful it was March and not January. Although, obviously, March in Montana could be brutal, too.
Maybe that was why her grandfather had left the state for the warmth of central Texas all those years ago.
She’d only know if Thaddeus Hawkins, his business partner, had answers to share. The lawyer hadn’t been able to tell her anything after her grandfather’s unexpected death three weeks ago, except that, in addition to inheriting his personal effects, she would soon be half owner of a Montana ranch. She could truthfully say she still wasn’t over the shock of that meeting. Her grandfather had rented a small house in a modest neighborhood. Driven a twenty-year-old car, which she was driving now. Rarely splurged and had next to no savings. Yet he’d owned half interest in a ranch—eight hundred acres according to the documents. Small by Texas standards, but still, a ranch. Which she hadn’t
known about. She and her grandfather had been close, the last of the Hardaway line, and she was still trying to figure out if she felt more mystified or betrayed at being kept in the dark.
A secret ranch. Why?
She hoped the answer lay at the end of the long road she was on...if she ever got there. She wanted to see the place and introduce herself to Thaddeus Hawkins, her grandfather’s former business partner. She had no intentions of lying about who she was or why she was there, but she didn’t think it would hurt to do a little anonymous reconnaissance first. Her experience with Andrew had left her feeling cautious, nowhere close to trusting people blindly as she’d once done. Learning about the ranch had only reinforced the fact that there were just too many secrets in this world, too much double-dealing to take anything at face value.
No matter what, she was never going to be caught off guard again.
* * *
GUS HAWKINS YAWNED as he turned onto the ranch road. His last official shift at the Shamrock Pub, which he owned with his Uncle Thad, had been something. Even though he would still fill in as needed, the patrons of the popular Gavin, Montana, bar had treated the event as a wake. Some brought food. Others brought gag gifts, which was why he now had a temporary tattoo of an anchor on the back of his neck and a lip print on his forehead. One of the college girls had offered him a particularly personal going away present, but he’d gently turned her down. He wouldn’t miss the nightly headaches of the pub, but he would miss the people. The majority of them, anyway.
He slowed as he rounded a series of corners, watching the edge of road as his headlights cut through the darkness. The snow was mostly melted—for now, anyway. Late spring snow and ice storms were a regular occurrence, and since the H/H Ranch still had a number of cows to calve out, there was certain to be one last nasty storm, which would probably coincide with a particularly difficult birth. But for the time being, the new grass was growing and the deer were active as they moved from the valleys to the foothills, following the melt and new growth. He’d had a close call the night before with a large doe and wasn’t all that keen to have another one.
