“Even stopping for breakfast and being held up for almost an hour by a serious multi-vehicle traffic accident on I-90 while you were sleeping, we’re making good time. While I watched you sleep and waited for the state troopers to clear the highway, I never dreamed Jeremy and Amanda were involved in an accident of their own. Scary stuff.”
“Oh God, I hope she and the baby are okay. If she loses that baby after all she’s been through with the cancer and being told she’d probably never conceive...”
“Where are those positive thoughts hiding?” Dusty wagged his finger at her. She’d looked so cute when she first woke up with her hair slightly mussed, face flushed from snuggling under the blanket, and sleepy-eyed before she totally roused from her nap.
“You’re right. I’ll just wait to hear from David again or Jeremy,” conceded Amanda.
“That’s better. Graham warned me that we wouldn’t be able to see the property until sometime in the afternoon, so even if we stop for an early lunch we’ll get to the realtor’s office in plenty of time.”
“Afternoon? That could mean three or four o’clock. Why did we have to leave so early?”
“I didn’t want to risk being late. And you never know how long you’ll get held up by road construction crews or traffic accidents. If the realtor appointment isn’t until four or five, I wanted to tour Bozeman while we’re passing time. Check out the feed stores, tack stores, employment agencies, and any other suppliers I’ll require. Get a feel for the city before I make a commitment to settle here.” Dusty glanced over at his passenger. Big mistake. She finished applying lip gloss to those kissable lips, turned and smiled at him.
“Do I look presentable again?” she asked, fluffing her hair.
He glued his eyes to the road before his brain got any ideas, sent any messages to his lower anatomy. “You’ll do,” he teased, grinning.
“Thank you for the ringing endorsement. You’ve made my day,” she countered.
Damn, he liked this woman. Liked her a lot. Too bad she didn’t have it bad for cowboys, like Penny.
“Tell me more about growing up in Texas,” requested Susan, out of the blue.
Dusty glanced over at his traveling companion and sighed. “It was okay, but like I told you I lit out of there the day I graduated high school when I punched out my old man’s lights. After suffering years of verbal abuse from the old bast...fellow, I’d had enough.”
“Where did you go?”
“Ma wanted to send me to university. I’d made the grades, but I had other plans.”
“Oh, Dusty, you should have gone. My time at Montana State in Bozeman was the happiest time in my life. I earned my degree in finance, and I met Amanda there. We shared so many fun times together.” Susan smiled.
“Sorry, I just couldn’t do it. Decided I’d get my education at the ‘open-prairie college’. So I headed north, worked on a couple of ranches for guys my father didn’t know. Eventually, I tried my hand at the rodeo. Spent more time in the dust than on the back of anything that bucked.”
He watched the little smile creep across her face. Was she imagining him flying off some bucking bronco’s back, sailing through the air, landing in the dirt?
“My rodeo buddies started calling me Dusty. The name stuck. I know you’re wondering, so I’ll tell you. My name is Patrick Allan MacFarland. But if you dare call me anything but Dusty, I’ll pull this car over and oust you.”
“Patrick who?” Susan laughed, grinning mischievously. “Continue your story, Dusty.”
Man, he loved the sound of her laugh. “I got tossed in the dirt once too often and decided to end my less-than-illustrious rodeo career. A week later, I met up with the Branigan men in Miles City during the annual horse sale. That must have been about eighteen years ago. Anyway, Arthur hired me on and I worked my way up to foreman. Been saving a fair portion of my paychecks since I don’t smoke and I don’t gamble. Enjoy a cold beer once in awhile. However, I’m totally addicted to my morning coffee.”
Susan smiled. “That’s one addiction we share.”
He hated talking about himself, but she deserved to know it all. “My adopted father died about eight years ago. His old pickup truck was hit by a drunk driver.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” whispered Susan.
“Don’t be. Rather ironic since he was driving drunk himself at the time. I didn’t return to Texas for his funeral. I never had a problem with Ma, just the old man. I’d kept in touch with Ma over the years, loved her dearly, and she understood.”
“I’m sorry you had such a rough childhood. My parents were great. What happened to your mother or was it just her time?”
“Ma wasn’t even seventy yet, but she’d had a problem ticker all her life, and she had asthma, as well. Still, her death came as a shock. But with a bad heart, she knew she wouldn’t live to be really old. Said she had to fit in all her living now. When she sold the ranch, she took up bridge and yoga and scrapbooking and the darn craziest stuff. But she loved her life, loved her friends, and she left this world a happy person. What more can you ask for?”
Dusty caught Susan swiping at a tear, and the gesture warmed his heart. She was truly a lovely woman, just like everyone had told him.
“I wish I’d met her. She sounds like a feisty gal who lived life instead of watching it pass by while sitting in the spectator section.”
“That’s Ma, exactly. Just get out there and do it. And if you made a damn fool of yourself in the process, well, that was just too bad.”
Dusty hadn’t realized they’d entered the Bozeman city limits awhile back, distracted by their conversation. He pulled into a filling station. “I’m going to top up the tank since we’ll be driving around a lot.” He met her eyes. “I’ll meet you inside after I pay for the gas. There’s a restaurant attached. We’ll grab some lunch before we go to the realtor’s office. If he’s anxious to show us this property, it could be suppertime before we see food.”
“Good thinking. I’ll get us a table.” Susan hopped out of the car.
Dusty watched the woman’s curvy behind as she crossed the parking lot to the restaurant entrance. Those tight jeans fit in all the right places, and her hips swayed in a mesmerizing manner. When the gas jockey rapped on the driver’s door, his heart almost stopped. He silently chastised himself for behaving like some kid who’d been caught watching the naked neighbor lady who’d forgotten to pull down her shades.
He rolled the window down.
“Fill ‘er up, sir?” asked the smiling attendant.
“Please, and wash the bugs off the windshield, too.” Dusty crawled out of the driver’s seat and stretched his legs. The leg room in her BMW surprised him. Of course, Susan was probably five foot eight without the high heels, so she’d want something comfortable to drive. But still, he preferred his pickup.
By quarter to one, they pulled out of the restaurant’s parking lot. Having attended university and lived here for four years, Susan assured him she could direct him around the city without a map. They drove directly to the realtor’s office and parked in front of a modern brick building. A row of windows fronted the office, displaying dozens of printed listings of properties for sale. They decided to forego the temptation to window shop, literally, and headed inside.
“Good afternoon, folks. May I help you?” A smartly-dressed, gray-haired but stylishly-coiffed lady almost sang the greeting and approached them.
“We’re here to see Randy Reddman, please.” Dusty removed his Stetson and shook the woman’s hand.
At the mention of the other realtor’s name, the woman’s friendly expression wilted in an instant, and she peeked over her eyeglasses. “Oh. Well. He’s on the telephone, but I’m certain he’ll be with you when he finishes his call.” She strode back to her desk and picked up a paperback novel.
Dusty and Susan glanced at each other. Susan leaned over and whispered in Dusty’s ear. “Someone is a little testy today.”
“Does she just read a book until a customer app
ears at the doorstep? How’d she ever get a job here?”
“Owner’s mother?” suggested Susan.
Dusty coughed to cover his laughter.
“You must be Dusty!” A tall, stocky, good-old-boy strode toward them, tanned hand outstretched.
The fellow wore jeans, a white shirt open at the neck, a leather jacket, a pair of well-worn cowboy boots and a black Stetson which he whipped off his head. He offered a blinding white smile that matched his shocking white hair. The word ‘seasoned’ popped into Dusty’s mind the minute he spotted the man.
Dusty leapt to his feet. “Yes, I am. And this is Susan Sanders.”
“Hello, there, y’all. I’m Randy and I’m so pleased to meet you folks.”
“Please to meet you, too. Graham Smith assures me I’m in good hands.” Dusty shook the guy’s hand, silently questioning what someone with such a strong Texan accent was doing in Montana.
“Thank you kindly for the vote of confidence. Let’s go take a look-see at that property. I’ve got the ranch house keys in my pocket, and my caddie is parked out front.” The realtor settled his Stetson on his head again and charged outside with Dusty and Susan following in his wake.
“Where’s the ranch?” asked Dusty.
“Forty minutes out of Bozeman off I-90. Not difficult to find,” chirped the talkative realtor.
Randy Reddman drove as recklessly as a drunken sailor on Saturday night leave, and Dusty silently prayed they would safely reach their destination. When Randy wasn’t waving his hand around emphasizing his every word, he pointed out landmarks, glanced at Susan seated in the backseat, or changed channels on the radio. Randy must believe the white line down the middle of the road was painted there merely as a suggestion, thought Dusty, considering the number of times the realtor steered back and forth across it.
They arrived in one piece, barely.
Susan climbed out of the back seat, visibly shaking. “Please insist on driving back to the city,” she whispered in Dusty’s ear. “My heart won’t survive another trip with him.”
Dusty wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered, “I’ll see what I can do. I almost kissed the ground when I crawled out of that car.”
Once his heart rate returned to normal, Dusty took a quick look around him. “The owner wants $300,000 for this place?”
“Yep.” Randy shook his head. “Don’t look like much. It’s the land you’d be paying for. The barn is about to fall down and the house isn’t in much better shape. Good drinking water in a deep well, and lots of room to built a new barn, a new house, several corrals and whatever you require.”
“I don’t know. There’s a ton of work here. Lord knows what it would all cost.” Dusty glanced over at Susan. “What do you think?”
“Randy’s right. These buildings aren’t salvageable. I suspect the land is overpriced, too. If it was me, I’d just keep looking and...”
Dusty’s cell phone rang, interrupting Susan.
“It’s Ma’s lawyer. I should take this call.” Dusty walked a short distance away and answered his phone.
*
“Are there other properties near here that would be more suitable?” inquired Susan.
“Yes, ma’am. A few.” Randy flashed her that broad realtor smile. “But none of them in Dusty’s price range. Most are substantial spreads and run into the millions.”
“I can’t believe this is what you get for three hundred grand. I peeked into the house, and I wouldn’t move a horse in there never mind a human.” Susan sighed. She’d anticipated the property holding such promise for Dusty. Apparently not.
And then she glanced over at her cowboy and gasped.
Dusty stood leaning against Randy’s caddie, his face ashen. Susan remembered Jeremy and Amanda’s recent accident, and the year long ordeal her best friend endured with the cancer treatments and believing she’d never conceive. Oh, no, not the baby.
Susan raced across the yard and grabbed Dusty’s arm. “What happened? Is it Amanda? Did something happen with the baby?” she demanded.
Dusty shook his head and waved off her concerns. “I appreciate the call, Mr. Stevens. Thank you for informing me that the money has been deposited directly in my account in Helena as I suggested. And thank you for all your help with settling Ma’s affairs.”
Dusty stood for a minute just holding his cell before finally ending the call. He stuffed his phone into his jeans’ pocket and met Susan’s eyes. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“Believe what? I take it that was your mother’s lawyer, and he released your inheritance funds.” Susan took a deep breath. At least, Amanda and her baby were okay. “So did you receive the amount you were hoping for?”
“Three.” Dusty choked out the word, appearing in a state of shock still.
“Three hundred thousand! That’s wonderful. You’ve almost doubled your money. A nice down payment...” Susan stopped talking when she noticed Dusty shaking his head.
“No. Three million,” he whispered.
Susan gaped. “Did you say three million?”
Dusty just nodded his head, looking totally stunned.
Randy stepped up beside Dusty. “Are you okay young man? You’re as white as a cotton ball. Was the call sad news?”
Dusty grabbed Susan around the waist and swung her in a circle. “It was terrific news, Randy. I just inherited three million dollars,” he blurted.
Randy grinned broadly. “Now I wasn’t born yesterday. Don’t think for a minute that I’ll believe that hogwash.”
“It’s true. The money is sitting in my bank account.” Dusty set Susan back on her feet, whipped his Stetson off his head, and tossed his hat in the air. “Who would have thought my parents’ ranch was worth that kind of money.”
“Dusty, I’m speechless,” whispered Susan, breathlessly.
Dusty plucked his hat off the ground, stuck it on his head, and met Susan’s eyes. “You realize that I now have a little more than three million, three hundred thousand dollars to spend on a ranch. I hate to admit it, but I’m feeling damn giddy right now. Hell, I don’t even need to worry about a mortgage. I’ll just pay cash!”
Randy steadied himself against his car. “Then what are we doing standing here looking at this sorry excuse for property?”
“My thoughts exactly,” added Dusty, grinning. A second ago he was a little worried that Randy might swallow his cigar. “You got anything more suitable around here? Or should we just head on back to Helena?”
“There is one ranch nearby here that’s been up for sale awhile now. Owner hasn’t gotten one offer. A little pricy but it fits in with your three million dollar budget. Surprised me that the old guy even put it on the market because the ranch has been in the family for generations. I heard that his only child has no interest in ranching, and the owner had a falling out with the son over the whole thing.”
“We’re here anyway. Won’t hurt to take a peek.” Dusty opened the back door of Randy’s car for Susan. “Let’s go check it out.”
“I should warn the owner that we’re on the way. He told me anytime I wanted to show it to just give him a quick call.”
“I’ll drive, Randy, while you’re on the phone.” Dusty winked at Susan before he closed the back door. She flashed him a quick thumbs up while the realtor dug the car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Dusty.
Fifteen minutes later, they passed under a large burned-wood sign announcing their arrival at the Triple Creek Ranch. Dusty had a name in mind for his ranch, and it didn’t involve water. But first he needed to find the right property. This place appeared promising.
Dusty parked near the white picket fence fronting the ranch house. “This is a hell of an improvement over that last place,” he observed, opening his door.
“That wouldn’t take much,” muttered Susan, climbing out of the back seat.
“The owner is asking two million more for this place,” added Randy, chuckling. “You could call it get-what-you-pay-for.”
/> The trio wandered through the barn and outbuildings. The barn showed its age, but it stood strong and sturdy and required only a coat of paint and a few upgrades. “We’ll definitely need to build a bunkhouse and more corrals before we open for business. Maybe a second barn in time,” stated Dusty. He wondered why there didn’t appear to be a single animal on the place. Even a mandatory ranch watch dog hadn’t come barreling out from under a back step greeting them with frenzied barking and growling. The lack of animals on the place seemed almost spooky. But Dusty supposed if the ranch was for sale, why stock it with cattle or horses or even a dog.
Dusty attempted to visualize what the owner might look like. The place looked inhabited: grass mowed and flowerbeds weeded. But no one appeared to be home. Perhaps he preferred to vacate the place during a viewing, even with only ten minute’s notice.
“There’s plenty of good pasture land here,” continued Randy who’d talked steadily since they left the other property. The entire afternoon’s incessant chatter started to grate on Dusty’s nerves, and he wished the guy was equipped with an OFF switch.
The threesome roamed across one of the pastures while the sun beat down from the clear blue Montana sky. Several buttes and grassy knolls dotted the land, and a carpet of fenced grassland surrounded them. Wildflowers waved hello in the afternoon breeze and butterflies and bees flitted across their path.
Dusty stooped to examine the clear running creek and dipped his hand into the water. He flicked a handful at Susan, and she screamed when the icy water landed on her bare arms. He took off racing toward the house when he spotted Susan scooping up a handful of icy cold liquid retaliation.
Dusty walked up the four steps leading to the wooden wrap-around veranda, and a minute later Randy and Susan caught up to him. “The backyard landscaping confirms a gardening enthusiast lives here. I love those towering evergreen trees, the curved flowerbeds, and the large fire pit.”
“Look at that enormous built-in gas barbeque!” exclaimed Susan, climbing the three steps to the raised mahogany-stained wooden deck in the backyard. “I’d wager a lot of family get-togethers were hosted out here.”
When Dreams Collide Page 7
