Ornery?
She almost laughed. It wasn’t a word she’d ever used, so maybe Montana was rubbing off on her. The only other place where she’d seen such wide-open country was in the Australian outback. She’d visited a couple of cattle stations down under, but while there were similarities, the Boxing N was in a class of its own.
“Josh McGregor doesn’t like me, but since I don’t like him, either, we’re even,” she admitted.
“I’m surprised at him. He should be grateful for everything you’re doing to help his grandfather and the ranch,” Lauren returned indignantly. “There aren’t many world-class accountants available around here. And most people in town have never even heard of a records management specialist.”
Lauren’s wholehearted support was endearing, though Tara wasn’t accustomed to receiving it outside her professional arena. The company she worked for showed their appreciation with their eagerness to keep her under contract, along with generous bonuses, stock options and escalating pay and benefits. But Lauren didn’t have any reason to believe her sister was world-class other than the genetic bond they shared.
“I’ll work it out with Josh, one way or the other,” Tara said lightly. “We’ve even managed to have a civil discussion. At least part of it was civil. Say, have you seen Carl Stanfield lately?”
Lauren’s cheeks turned pink. “Er, yeah. He came by the clinic the other day. I thought I’d told you.”
“You haven’t mentioned it. He seems nice.”
“He is, but we don’t really click. I doubt we’ll go out anymore.”
Tara’s eyebrows shot upward. She wasn’t an expert on chemistry, but she would have sworn there were plenty of clicks between her twin and the tall sheriff.
“Does he agree?”
“I’m sure he’ll figure it out. Besides, I’ve already discovered it can be awkward dating someone in such a small town. People come into the clinic and ask about it when they should be focusing on their medical needs.”
“Wouldn’t they get used to it and stop asking?”
“Maybe. But they didn’t the first time Carl and I were going out. It wasn’t until they stopped seeing us together that the talk quieted down.”
Lauren busied herself cutting a cucumber and Tara decided to temporarily back off. Having family was a new thing and she wasn’t sure how much to say, or when to say it. She wasn’t even sure how cozy she wanted to be, just that it would be nice to have someone.
“I hope you like my version of Thai food,” she said. “I almost made curry.”
“I’m sure the Thai will be good. I don’t know what’s in this dish, but the turmeric in many curries is good for you. I’ve always been interested in foods and how they affect health and healing. It was hard deciding whether to become a physician’s assistant or a dietitian.”
“You never considered being a doctor?” Tara asked.
“For a while, but that level of schooling is expensive, and I didn’t want to graduate with too much debt. My folks helped as much as possible, but that was way beyond their finances. Ultimately I decided I didn’t need the title to help people.”
“Everybody I’ve talked to says they’d rather see you than one of the clinic doctors. They say you really listen to them.”
Lauren’s face turned pink again. “That’s nice. Small towns are like that.”
“I don’t think the size of a town matters. Patients prefer seeing somebody who genuinely cares. A woman I know in Paris goes to great lengths to see a specialist she thinks is more understanding about her arthritis.”
“You’ve lived so many places. Doesn’t it scare you to go to a country where they don’t speak English and you’re so far away from home?”
Tara shrugged. “Usually there are some English speakers around, and it’s the business language at the sites where I’ve worked. Besides, it’s an adventure going somewhere new and exploring the differences between one culture and another.”
What she didn’t add was that, to her, “home” was a hollow concept. She remembered at least seven foster placements in her childhood, and none of them had been a home the way other people defined it. Some kids had terrific foster parents and kept contact after leaving for work or school; she hadn’t been so fortunate.
Maybe it was her fault; she just couldn’t let people get close. On the other hand, the constant moves from one home to another were part of the reason she’d become cautious about relationships, so what was the chicken and what was the egg? It was one of the ways where she and Lauren were radically different. People liked Lauren and knew she cared about them.
Perhaps Pierre had been right. A year ago their relationship had come to an abrupt halt when he’d declared he would rather take a cold halibut to bed.
Tara pushed the memories away and ate a bite of chicken. The pungent flavor slid over her tongue. Mmm. She loved the different cuisines she’d sampled in her travels. Exploring the world would have to take the place of romance in her life.
* * *
LAUREN THOROUGHLY ENJOYED the meal Tara had prepared. They both liked spices, which was something else they had in common. Nevertheless, Tara’s personality was radically different from her own. Her sister was extraordinarily bold. She’d lived all over the world and done things that Lauren knew she would never try. Climb a mountain? Go scuba diving? Live in one country after another? Never.
“Is it hard to move every couple of years?” she asked. “As much as I wanted to live in Schuyler, it was tough leaving Southern California. It helped that my best friend was here already, but I had to leave my other friends and coworkers, along with my parents, though we talk on Skype every week. Separately, of course, since they’re divorced.”
“It isn’t that difficult for me,” Tara admitted. “My acquaintances are pretty casual. I lived in so many different foster homes when I was growing up that I learned not to get close to anyone. I mean, what’s the point when you’ll be moved before long and never see them again?”
Lauren wondered how her twin could be so nonchalant. It would be awful not to have anyone who genuinely cared what happened to you. She lifted her chin. No matter what had occurred in the past, Tara had family now.
“Isn’t there a man in your life?” she asked.
“No one special.” Tara grinned. “Someone who travels fast has to travel light. A guy would tie me down.”
A familiar concern went through Lauren. She might be determined to keep in touch and be the family her sister hadn’t had, but some of it depended on Tara. “Don’t you want to get married and have kids?”
“I’ll leave that to you. Speaking of which, I...um, don’t completely agree about the sheriff. He seemed quite interested.”
“Oh.” Lauren swallowed. “It’s just that I think he needs someone bolder.”
“Trust me, anyone who can lecture Josh McGregor is bold enough for Sheriff Stanfield.”
“I didn’t lecture Josh.”
Tara snickered. “That wasn’t how he saw it. Perhaps you should give Carl a few more chances.”
Lauren smiled and concentrated on her food. Her sister didn’t understand; she thought nothing of challenging Josh. But it wasn’t that easy for someone who’d grown up in a household of endless arguments, sullen silences and disagreements over the smallest things.
Lauren had finally gotten her dream of a family of her own, only to have the dream constantly threatened. So she’d become a peacemaker with an aversion to rocking the boat or confronting anyone. She did what was necessary at work because it was important for her patients’ welfare, but she struggled in her personal life.
“By the way, my parents hope to meet you as soon as possible,” she said, determined not to think about Carl any longer. “They want you to know they would have adopted both of us if they’d known I had a twin.”
Tara’s smile flickered with an odd emotion. “I wonder how our lives might have turned out if that had happened.”
“I think it would have been wonderful.”
“Well, I’m glad you had a family. Maybe you’ll have one of your own someday and I’ll be Aunt Tara.”
It was a wonderful image, and Lauren imagined the excitement of her children when Aunt Tara came for a visit, full of stories about faraway places.
She wanted to fall in love and have kids, but she didn’t want a marriage that would fall apart the way her parents’ relationship had crumbled. That wasn’t even taking Carl’s dangerous line of work into consideration—and why did her thoughts always circle back to him?
Keeping her distance from Carl was the best strategy, even though she got a sinking feeling in her stomach at the prospect.
* * *
TARA WAS RAPIDLY entering figures into the computer on Tuesday when Walt leaned forward in his easy chair. “You said at the hospital that you’ve ridden before. Do you want to go riding with me sometime?”
She almost said yes before her brain did a double take. Was he able to do something so physically demanding? Yet surely being able to do something he loved would be good for Walt. Wasn’t pain worse when you were unhappy?
“I, uh, don’t want to be rude, but does your leg agree with your yen for horseback riding?” she asked finally.
Rather than getting angry, Walt chuckled. “I’ve been secretly mounting a horse for the past three weeks. My leg isn’t thrilled, but it’s making peace with the process.” He grinned. “I want to be ready to go after those sapphires.”
Tara hesitated another moment before deciding Walt was a responsible adult and she couldn’t make decisions for him. “In that case, count me in.”
“Then how about tomorrow afternoon, around three?”
“Sounds good.”
THE NEXT MORNING she brought suitable clothing and changed shortly before the time they’d arranged. Josh was nowhere to be seen, and she suspected Walt had planned the outing so his grandson wouldn’t know what they were doing.
Things had been interesting with Josh the past few days. They still clashed, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to chase her off the property.
Walt picked out a mellow gelding named Ringo as her mount and they rode northwest. Before long all signs of civilization fell away, and there was nothing except rolling land around them.
She loved seeing the ranch through Walt’s eyes. He’d been born on the Boxing N, and his father had begun teaching him about cattle and horses before he could remember. Every tree and hillock had a story, and some of the unhappiness in his eyes seemed to recede as he recounted tales from the early days of life in Montana and how his family had come to Schuyler.
He also spoke of his wife with a longing that tugged at Tara’s heart. Despite everything Josh had said about his grandparents, the picture she kept getting was of two people passionately in love and deeply committed to each other.
“We’ll keep it short,” Walt commented after a while, “on behalf of my leg and your greenhorn muscles.”
She laughed, knowing how sore muscles could be if pushed too hard on a horse. Walt might be susceptible, as well. Though he rode as if born in the saddle, it had been over six months since he’d been active.
They returned to the horse barn, and since a groom had always taken over when she’d ridden elsewhere, Walt showed her the basics of equine grooming. It was hard work, but Ringo obviously appreciated the brushing, nudging her affectionately as she ran a soft cloth over his face.
Walt tried grooming his own horse, but his leg was obviously bothering him. He declined her offer to help and finally muttered something about getting a ranch hand to finish for him. Tara wrinkled her nose. The ranch hand might mention it to Josh, who’d then learn what his grandfather had been doing...and she wondered if he’d blame her.
So what? Josh could just...lump it.
* * *
AT THE END OF the week, Josh crouched and examined the damaged fence that one of his employees had found. Fence repairs weren’t unusual, but Clyde Hawes had called, saying it appeared to be vandalism. Intentional damage was rare in the area. The days of cattle rustlers and territorial rivalries had largely passed; when they had problems, it was usually a lark, pulled by drunken teenagers.
“What do you think, boss?” Clyde asked. He was one of the older hands on the ranch, and Josh relied on his experience.
“You’re right, it looks cut. Take care of the repairs, and I’ll give a report to the sheriff.”
“Yup.”
With no more ado, Clyde set to work.
Josh remounted Lightfoot and headed back to the ranch center, calling the county sheriff’s office on his satellite phone as he rode. Carl Stanfield wasn’t available, but a deputy took the report and said they’d run extra patrols past the Boxing N. She didn’t need to say that catching someone in the act was unlikely.
After tucking the phone back in his pocket, Josh flexed his hand. It was better. Healing had taken a while, especially since he hadn’t been able to take it easy the way Lauren Spencer had advised. That was ranching. Hard, unremitting effort. The only reason someone would do it was pure love for the life.
Tara’s comments about living paycheck to paycheck crossed Josh’s mind, and his mouth tightened. He’d almost protested that he worked just as hard as anyone, but how could he deny that his trust fund set him apart? He didn’t live high. His pay as a foreman had more than covered his expenses, but it wouldn’t have concerned him if a paycheck was late.
He wished he could push Tara’s voice out of his head, but she had put a finger on one of his troubles. He was trying to do it all, the same as his grandfather. And he knew better. His experience in Texas had taught him the importance of having a foreman on a large ranch. Instead he’d told himself that he first needed to get the place in better working order. With a small ranch he might have pulled it off, but he had to delegate at the Boxing N.
As he approached the ranch center, Tara rushed through the door of the foaling barn.
“I went to visit the filly,” she said, her eyes wide and alarmed. “A cowhand is down in Belle’s stall. He’s unconscious and there’s blood on his forehead. I tried calling nine-one-one, but my cell doesn’t have a signal out here.”
Josh swung off Lightfoot and dropped the stallion’s reins over a post. Andrew Whitlan was lying motionless inside Belle’s stall. The mare nickered angrily and stomped the barn floor. She was an exceptionally protective mother and must have believed she was defending her baby.
“Is my grandfather here?” he asked Tara.
“Your mom took him to a doctor’s appointment.”
Right. Josh had forgotten Walt was scheduled to see the orthopedist in Helena.
“I need to get Belle out of there before we can do anything,” he explained.
Murmuring softly, he stepped into the stall. Belle eyed him with a challenge. The mare was one of the finest ever born on the ranch, but she was high-strung and difficult to handle. His grandfather was the only human she completely trusted.
“Whoa, girl, it’s okay. You know me.” Approaching without making any sudden moves, he sneaked his hand up to the lead on her halter.
Her nostrils flared, and he glanced over his shoulder. Tara had come into the stall as well, and was kneeling beside Andrew.
“Don’t move him,” he warned in the same soothing voice. “He could have a neck injury.”
“I figured as much,” she commented drily.
The teenager’s eyes fluttered open, and he moaned.
“Don’t try to get up,” she cautioned.
“I...I’m okay,” the kid answered gamely.
“Probably,” she agreed, “but remember what ballplayers are told on the field—don’t mo
ve until the coach says it’s okay.”
Andrew smiled feebly and remained still.
Tara looked at Josh. “Shall I go call nine-one-one at the office?”
“No, use this.” He tossed his satellite phone to her. Belle reared, and he brought her down again. “Whoa, girl.” He pulled firmly on the halter, trying to convince her to come with him, but the effort seemed to agitate her more. No way was she leaving without her baby.
After a brief phone conversation, Tara looked up. “The ambulances are tied up on other calls. They asked if you have a neck collar and whether we could transport him. Surely that isn’t standard procedure.”
“This isn’t the city—sometimes we have to do what’s necessary,” he returned, only to regret his sharp tone. He needed her cooperation. “Look, we’ve got a wide range of emergency equipment. Tell them we’ll bring him in ourselves.”
Tara relayed the information to the dispatcher and pressed the off button. “Now what?”
“Can you get up nice and slow and coax the filly from the stall? Belle won’t leave without her.”
“Sure.”
Tara stood and held her hand out. “Hey, there, baby,” she breathed.
Josh’s eyes widened as the filly eagerly came to Tara, sniffing and nuzzling her fingers.
“Come on, little one.” Tara took a slow step backward, and the filly followed trustingly. As Josh had expected, once her foal was headed toward the exit, Belle was eager to leave, as well.
“There’s an empty stall next to this one,” he said.
Tara nodded, and a few moments later, both horses were safe inside, with the stall door closed behind them.
Josh ran to the supply room and retrieved a neck collar and backboard. His first aid training had never been more useful as he eased the collar around the kid’s neck.
“Andrew, we’re also going to put a board under your back,” he explained. “That way we can be sure you stay in one position on the way to the hospital.”
“Gee, boss, I don’t need a hospital,” Andrew complained.
“Yeah, that blood on your forehead is just paint and you were taking a nap when I got here.”
The Rancher's Prospect Page 9
