by Jeannie Watt
Somewhere along the line, she’d fallen asleep.She sat up and then immediately snuggled back into the sleeping bag. The room was even more frigid than when she’d fallen asleep, but the furnace had come on with the power. She would let the heat blow for a few minutes.
Or a few hours.
Madeline compromised and climbed out of the bag ten minutes later and put on her coat. She hurried to the bathroom and shut the door to trap the heat flowing up through the vents. Blessed warmth.
Having no idea how long the electricity would be on—something else to discuss with Ty—she cranked on the shower, grimacing slightly as the water ran rusty. It cleared after a few minutes and she climbed under the wonderfully strong spray, letting it beat on her shoulders and back, warming her.
Madeline stood under the shower until the water started to cool—something she rarely did, but she had a slightly larger water tank back home. She stepped out into the saunalike environment she’d created, cleared the condensation off the mirror with her washcloth, then prepared for the daily battle with the blow-dryer and flatiron.
Once that was done, she would brew a thermos of instant coffee, then sit down with her laptop and write up a plan of attack for the morning and afternoon. She’d spend the evening working on her great-grandmother’s memoir, with a flashlight if necessary.
First on the list—set up a meeting with Ty. She hoped today he was in a mood to cooperate.
Second—a trip back down the mountain. She wanted to talk to Connor, both to touch base and to vent about the state of this alleged ranch, her uncertainties concerning Ty. She needed a sounding board. Someone she could trust.
THE MORNING WAS NOT going well. Fair or not, Ty blamed Madeline. If she hadn’t come to the ranch, he would have been able to concentrate. He wouldn’t have hit the pothole under the snow, shifting his load of hay so that he caught a bale on the gatepost as he drove through.
After he’d restacked the hay, Alvin held the cows off while Ty opened the second gate, the one leading to the cattle pasture, and drove the tractor through. The dog leaped back onto his trailer and Ty started feeding without incident, Alvin happily snapping and barking at the cows to keep them from pulling bales off one side of the trailer while Ty dropped hay off the other. But while Ty usually found a temporary sense of peace in the simple act of feeding, today a dark cloud hung over him.Were these his only choices in life? To be depressed or to be angry?
Hell of a way to live.
Man up. Madeline was Skip’s sister. His inherited business partner. He had to do his duty and be civil. She was here for answers he owed her, to clear up suspicions that, while insulting and rather tactlessly voiced, were justified. For all she knew, he was a guy who’d taken advantage of her brother.
Would he be able to convince her otherwise?
Was he even going to try? And if he did, would she listen, or was she one of those people who, once her mind was made up, refused to change it? Skip had told him more than once about her stubbornness.
Ty had become grimly comfortable about how he dealt with his guilt. He didn’t need Madeline here, stir ring the pot. Mainly because he didn’t know if he had it in him to come up with yet another coping mechanism.
He dumped one more bale, then got on the tractor to move to the next spot, stringing the cattle out so they had room to eat.
He drove on a few yards, then stopped when he saw a yellowish-brown mound next to the frozen creek. His rotten morning continued.
It’d been easy to blame Madeline for his bad mood and lack of concentration, but it was kind of hard to blame her for the cow lying in the willows. Ty stopped the tractor and left Alvin to keep the cows from destroying the stack of hay on the trailer.
This was one of his feistier cows, but she simply turned her head and blinked when he approached. And then he saw the dead calf. A preemie, but a big one.
“Come on, girl,” he muttered, reaching out to give her a couple pats on her shoulder. She didn’t react. He nudged her with his knee, carefully, since he’d had recurring problems with the joint since the accident, but again, no response.
Shit.
Ty dug under the layers of clothing he wore, pulled his cell out of his pocket and hit lucky number three with his gloved thumb. You know you’re a rancher when you have the vet on speed dial.
“Hey,” he said when Sam Hyatt answered. The crackling connection told Ty the vet was in his truck, probably on the edge of the service area. “Ty Hopewell.” His breath crystallized as he spoke. “Any chance you can make it up to my place this morning? I have a cow down. She’s just aborted a big preemie. Calving paralysis, I’m guessing.”
The best Sam could do was noon, since he was more than a hundred miles away, en route to another emergency call.
“Thanks. See you at noon.” Ty ended the call, then stood for a moment studying the cow. She studied him back. Finally he shook his head and started for the tractor, where Alvin was doing his best to save the load. Ty climbed onto the seat and put the tractor in gear.
He didn’t even want to think about what else might happen today.
TY WASN’T AT HOME. Madeline knocked twice. The collie hadn’t barked, so it followed that Ty was out and about, doing ranch chores or some such thing.
She’d carried her cell on the walk across the wide drive, hoping to step into a service area, but no luck. If she was going to communicate with the outside world, she was going to have to travel or ask Ty if she could use his phone. He’d probably say no and then she’d end up traveling anyway.She stood for a moment, hands on hips, debating whether to check the barn or the shop first, then caught sight of movement in the field. A tractor, slowly heading away from her. It stopped a few seconds later and Ty got off and walked back to the load of hay, climbing on the trailer to avoid the crush of cows. The collie was snapping at the animals, fending them off.
Ty was feeding, and it looked as if he’d just begun. How long would it take to feed all those cattle? Should she wait?
The sky was darkening, the clouds hugging the top of the mountain range. The last weather report she’d accessed before leaving Reno had promised days of on-again, off-again snowstorms. If she wanted to store up on provisions, such as toilet paper—how on earth had she forgotten toilet paper?—and set up a way to get mail, she needed to take advantage of this window of opportunity. She would catch up with Ty as soon as she got back.
It was wasteful to run the generator while she was gone—Ty had said the fuel was low. So she went to the barn, covering her ears until she reached out with one hand and cautiously flipped the toggle switch he had used to start the machine. After a low drone of protest, it stilled.
The silence that followed was intense and Madeline felt an instant flood of relief.
They were definitely going to look into solar power.
THE COW LOOKED NO BETTER when Ty stopped on his way back from feeding. Four hours until Sam got there… Once again Ty tried to get her to her feet, and once again she refused to budge. It was gearing up to snow again, but at least the cold wasn’t as bitter as it’d been the week before. Ty got on the tractor, feeling helpless. Losing a cow wasn’t in the budget. He’d already lost a calf. He wasn’t up for a double loss.
He parked the tractor in the barn, cocking his head and wondering why things didn’t seem quite right.It took him a second to realize the generator wasn’t running.
Shit.
He climbed off the tractor, wincing as he twisted the knee he’d been so careful of when he’d nudged the cow.
Ty paused for a painful moment, resting his hands on his thighs, knowing from experience that if he waited a few seconds, let his knee recover, there would be no lasting damage. He took a cautious step once the pain subsided, and the knee held. Good. One point for him—his first today. But if the generator engine had seized… It hadn’t.
The engine was cool to the touch. The oil level was fine.
The collar of wires appeared to be all right. No short.
&
nbsp; And Madeline wasn’t there in the barn, demanding to know what had happened to her power.
Ty scratched his head, then reached out to flip the switch. The machine started. Ty turned it back off.
Madeline had turned off the power? That seemed odd.
Granted, she seemed a bit odd herself, but still…
Ty didn’t want to initiate contact. Even though he’d come to the conclusion that the smartest thing he could do was to cooperate, the logic part of his brain hadn’t quite conquered the pissed-off part. It turned out, though, that he didn’t need to worry about initiating contact. Her car was gone.
For good?
He doubted it, but he climbed the porch steps to check if her belongings were still there. That plan was squashed when the knob refused to turn in his hand.
Madeline had locked her door.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE DRIVE DOWN THE mountain was more difficult than the trip up had been yesterday, giving Madeline no time to dwell on either the ranch or Dr. Jensen. The ruts in the snow had frozen overnight and kept unexpectedly catching her tires, yanking the car to the side of the road and the snowbanks there. But as she had told Ty, Madeline was no rookie at driving in the snow. Her grandmother, after retiring from her teaching job, had lived at the end of a particularly nasty road in northern Maine, close to where she had grown up.
After a few close calls—closer than Madeline was entirely comfortable with, since she didn’t want to hike back up the mountain and ask Ty to pull her out of the ditch—she arrived at Barlow Ridge. Unable to wait any longer, she stopped at a crossroad and dialed Connor’s number. He didn’t answer, even though it was close to noon back home.Madeline stared at the phone. Connor always answered. His phone was practically embedded in his palm. Was he not answering on purpose? Was this his way of not enabling her obsession over the investigation?
She tried again, then fired off a text.
I want to talk about the ranch. Pick up.
Nothing.Madeline ground her teeth, then shoved the phone into her pocket and pulled the car back out onto the road.
She drove from snowy gravel onto cleared pavement as she passed the first houses.
The town was tiny, and while there were many communities this size scattered throughout the northeast, the sheer isolation of this one made it seem even smaller.
Madeline estimated the population at less than five hundred. She had to estimate, since for some reason towns in Nevada didn’t boast population—they announced altitude. So while she was happy to know that the reason she couldn’t breathe was because she was at 5,160 feet above sea level, from an anthropological point of view, population was a much more interesting statistic.
Fields and ranches bordered the paved streets until she reached the nucleus, which consisted of a mercantile, a bar, a post office, a school and a prefab metal building that appeared to be the community center. At the far end of town, on the road leading to civilization, was another metal building, red. Perhaps a fire station?
Madeline parked in front of the mercantile, which had an honest to goodness hitching post in front, festooned with garlands and red ribbons. Sleigh bells hung on the door, jingling merrily as she let herself into the store, which seemed to be deserted. Madeline didn’t mind.
She stood for a moment, studying the wild variety of merchandise crammed into too small a space.
Holy smoke. Where did she begin? The aisle with the small artificial Christmas tree, or the one with the saddle?
Madeline pulled her list out of her jacket pocket and unfolded it. It appeared that whatever she could possibly want—a jar of mustard or a bag of hog chow—was here.
She picked up a plastic basket, since there were no carts, and slowly started down the first aisle, cataloging what was where, since she’d a feeling she would be back.
“Can I help you?”
Madeline nearly jumped out of her skin at the accusing growl from behind her. She whirled and saw a small gray-haired woman at the counter. She hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. Where had she been? Crouching down, maybe?
Madeline automatically moistened her lips as the woman glared at her. “I just needed a few things. You are open, aren’t you? The door was unlocked so I assumed—”
“I’m open,” the woman said flatly. “Where’d you come from?”
“New York. A little town near—”
“Here.”
Madeline cocked her head. “Excuse me?”
“Since this town is at the end of the road, you aren’t traveling through. Where are you staying while you’re here?”
“Oh.” Madeline forced the corners of her mouth up even though she didn’t feel at all like smiling at this crabby woman. “I’m half owner of…” Damn. Why didn’t the place have a name? “…that ranch up Lone Sum Road.”
“Lonesome Road?” the woman asked with a mystified expression. “You mean Lone Summit Road?”
“Uh, yes,” Madeline said stiffly. “That’s exactly what I mean. Ty Hopewell is my partner. Actually, he was my brother’s partner, but my brother passed away.”
“You’re Skip’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be.” She shook her head again, frowning at Madeline as if she were a particularly nasty specimen.
“Why?” Madeline made no further attempt at politeness. She wanted an answer. Why was it so incredible that she was Skip’s sister?
“Skip was laid-back. Not an uptight bone in his body.” The woman’s eyes traveled over Madeline in a way that made her back stiffen. Okay, maybe she was wearing her black pants rather than jeans, but she was saving the jeans to clean in, since without a washer and dryer she had no clothing to spare. And perhaps a tastefully belted, knee-length navy blue wool coat wasn’t the norm in extremely rural Nevada, but it didn’t cry out uptight…unless it revealed a prim white blouse collar beneath it. She should have worn her red sweater.
“Yes. My brother was quite a relaxed individual.” She held up the list. “Would it be all right if I continued to shop?” The woman’s response shouldn’t have stung. Skip had always charmed people, whereas she’d had to resort to dazzling them with logic or impressing them with her academic prowess. The shopkeeper didn’t look as if she would be wowed by either. She made a dismissive gesture and Madeline walked down the nearest aisle with slow, deliberate steps. She would not be intimidated. But if this woman was representative of the local population, she wouldn’t be spending too much time in town, either.
Madeline eventually stacked three loaded baskets on the counter, along with a broom, a mop and two bottles of cleaning solution. She’d be returning a full bottle to Ty.
She’d eventually found everything on her list, with no help from the retailer, who’d sat silently behind her counter as Madeline shopped. It had taken a while to find ketchup that wasn’t laced with hot sauce, and the only wine she could find was red with a homemade label, which seemed to indicate that it, too, was home made. She didn’t think it was legal to sell home brew to the general public, but figured it wouldn’t be for sale if it was a health hazard, so what the heck? Wine helped on those nights when she suffered from insomnia, and given her situation, she may be facing some of those nights in the near future.
“By the way, I’m Madeline Blaine,” she said as the woman started ringing up her purchases.
“Anne McKirk,” the woman snapped.
“…McKirk is an unusual name. I’ve never heard it before.”
“Short for McErquiaga.”
“Basque?” Madeline guessed.
“Bingo,” Anne replied as she waved at the canned goods she’d rung up. “We load our own bags here.”
“Oh.” Madeline shook out a large paper bag and started loading. “Are there many Basque here?”
“Hmm.”
Possibly an affirmative. Madeline had never met a person of Basque descent before. Fascinating culture, though.
After paying for her groceries, she tried one more time to be friendly, p
rimarily because the mercantile was the only game in town. “I’m impressed with the wide array of merchandise you have here.”
“I do try to keep an array,” the woman agreed sourly. She handed Madeline her change, then stepped out from behind the counter and headed for the back of the store without another word. Madeline watched her go.
Tough crowd.
A few minutes later, Madeline stepped inside the post office cautiously. But unlike Anne McKirk, the postmistress beamed when she saw a new face cross the threshold. A Christmas wreath pin blinked on the woman’s green sweater as she opened the gate separating the business area from the lobby.
“Hi,” Madeline said, taking advantage of the first sign of friendliness she’d encountered since arriving in the eastern part of Nevada. “I’m Madeline Blaine, Ty Hopewell’s ranching partner.” It sounded ridiculous coming from her lips, but it was the truth. She was a partner and their business was ranching.
“You must be Skip’s sister. I’m so very sorry about your loss.” The woman instantly closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a hug.
“Uh, yes. Thank you.” Madeline wasn’t a big hugger, except with close friends and family under highly emotional circumstances, but she appreciated the sentiment behind the gesture.
“We all liked Skip very much.” She ran a quick eye over Madeline, making her once again aware how out of place her teaching clothes were and how little she resembled her brother, both physically and psychologically. But this lady didn’t seem to find as much fault with her as Anne McKirk.
“Thank you,” Madeline repeated. “How would I go about getting mail while I’m here. I’ll probably only be here a matter of weeks, so if I could rent a box for a month—”
