by Jeannie Watt
He cleared his throat. “Since you have everything covered here, I guess I’ll go back to my place.” He pushed his hands into his pockets.
“Me, too,” Madeline said, following the movement of his hands before bringing her eyes back up to his. “My place, I mean.”
“I knew what you meant.”
But he sounded relieved.
TALK ABOUT MISREADING a situation… He supposed he should be thankful that Madeline thought he’d been glowering, as she called it, because the truth was he’d felt like punching out his vet. And he needed the guy.
He went into his house and turned off the generator, then made his way unerringly to his bedroom without a flashlight. Three years of practice had taught him never to leave anything lying in the path.What was happening to him? Was he falling for Skip’s sister in spite of everything? What else explained the protectiveness, or the desire to tell Sam to step off, even when he knew Sam was devoted to his wife?
Ty couldn’t fall for Madeline. Not now.
No apology on earth was going to make up for what he’d done. Especially when she didn’t know the entire truth. All she had was the cop report. She didn’t know how much he had to apologize for.
And he didn’t know if he could tell her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOBODY HAD PREDICTED the snowstorm. It slipped down from the north during the night and dumped at least eight inches. Ty woke to a winter wonderland, a headache and a pasture full of hungry livestock.
He wanted to get them fed before Madeline showed up to help.“We’ll do this alone, okay?” he muttered to Alvin, who was watching him put on his boots at least an hour earlier than usual. “It’s nasty out there.”
Alvin whimpered. In answer? Or in protest for changing the routine? Border collies loved their routines.
Ty didn’t bother to turn off the generator when he let himself out into the early-morning darkness. He had to chain up the tractor so he could plow a path to the haystack and then to the field.
The barn was dark, since Madeline’s generator, which powered the lights for the barn the rare occasions that he needed them, wasn’t on. He propped his flashlight on the ground and then shook out the chains and laid them out.
Would Madeline hear the tractor and think he was ditching her? Would she understand that he just needed to be alone? For real this time. He’d had not one, but two nightmares the night before, something that hadn’t happened since the weeks following the wreck.
How great was that? Just thinking about confessing had given him nightmares.
Ty opened the door to vent the exhaust fumes, then started the tractor and backed it over the chains. It took only a few minutes to secure them around the tires and then he got into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the barn, dropping the blade as soon as he cleared the door.
The snow was heavy and wet. When it froze it was going to be icy as hell. And he was almost out of food. He’d planned to take a run to town that day, but now he wasn’t so sure.
His other choice, though, was to remain marooned on the ranch with Madeline, perhaps even dependent on her to eat.
He’d take his chances on the road.
TY WAS IN THE FIELD feeding when Madeline let herself out of the house. It was still dark and the tractor headlights cast long yellow beams over the pasture. The snow on the porch was almost over her boot tops, but she had no choice but to step out into it as she started pushing it off the steps. She gave up on the idea of shoveling any kind of a path. Where would she shovel to?
She went back inside, put on Ty’s coveralls, pulling them down over her boots so the snow wouldn’t get in. The tractor had woken her up, and it hadn’t been too hard to figure out that the only reason Ty would be setting out much earlier than usual was so that he could do the chores alone.She’d stayed in the sleeping bag, listening to the sounds of him plowing, until she couldn’t take it anymore and had gotten up to make coffee. If Ty wanted to feed alone, that was his business.
But logical or not, she felt kind of abandoned.
She waded through the snow to where the bulls were pressing their intimidating bulk against the fence. Some were standing in the snowy trough, trying to get to the food she hadn’t even uncovered yet. The fence creaked and Madeline worked faster. If Skip could do this ranch stuff, in all types of weather, so could she. She was here to understand.
The lifestyle? Or the man who was now her partner?
The two were tied together. Maybe she wanted an insight on both.
The tarp was heavy with new wet snow and hard to move, but she managed to loosen a corner and shake off enough that she could access the two bales she needed. She cut the strings with the pink beribboned knife Ty had left in the stack and then grabbed a small armload. The bulls pressed harder. She assumed a wide stance, looked for an open spot and threw the hay. They knocked it right back on top of her with their heads, volleyball style, in their effort to crowd one another out. She got another armload and moved closer, faked left, then awkwardly threw to the right. The bulls fell for it; the hay went over the fence and she got one or two distracted. She tried the same technique again, only this time reversing it. Score. Now that they were all busy eating she could fill the rest of the manger.
Once the bulls were fed, she tended to the much easier horses, then trudged back through the snow to the barn, where she turned on the generator.
Madeline let out the breath she’d been holding when it didn’t explode or anything, and then went back behind the straw stack to where the poor cow hung. The animal looked up soulfully with her soft brown eyes.
“I hear you’re a good producer,” Madeline said. “And I happen to know that it’s in your best interest to become a good producer again, so…well…you might want to get your feet back under you ASAP. Start producing.”
Dear heavens, she was talking to a cow.
She fed her, then cleaned the pen, and when she was done felt a mild sense of accomplishment. She might not have been out driving the tractor, with the rush of cool air in her face, but she’d done her part.
Once again she patted the cow, which was busy eating and ignored her. But she shifted her rear end slightly. Madeline felt a small ray of hope. She’d kind of bonded with Sling Cow and wanted to see her walking around under her own steam.
Ty was driving in from the field when Madeline left the barn. She didn’t bother waiting for him, but retreated to the warmth of her house.
SHE’D FED THE BULLS. Ty closed his eyes for a moment, kicking himself for not saying something the day before. Then he walked straight to her house, climbed the steps and knocked on the door. It took her a few minutes to answer, and when she did, it was fairly obvious that she’d showered, but had not yet done whatever it was she did to her hair. The wet locks made her skin look even fairer than usual, her dark-lashed eyes greener. He stepped inside so she could close the door.
“Maddie—don’t feed the bulls when I’m not here.” She opened her mouth to speak, then saw something in his expression that made her close it again. “The big one has been known to come right over the top of the fence when he gets the urge. It’s different if Alvin is there, but without him…” The bull had come through the fence only twice in the past two years, but both times it had been in deep snow when he was hungry. It would have killed Ty if something had happened to Madeline.“I didn’t know.”
One corner of his mouth tightened. “Because I didn’t tell you.” He never dreamed she would take on feeding chores on her own. “I’m sorry.”
“Lots to this ranching game that I’ve yet to learn,” she said with forced lightness.
“Yeah. There is.” He reached out to touch her cheek with his gloved hand, then instantly wished he hadn’t. But he had, and Madeline’s lips parted slightly as he let his arm fall back down to his side. “I, uh, just wanted to tell you.”
And now he needed to leave instead of staring down into her very green eyes, wide with…what? They hadn’t widened until he’d touched her
.
“I’ll see you later.” He turned and opened the door before she could answer, then closed it quietly behind him. When he got to his own door, his stomach was still in a tight knot.
Ty spent the morning on the grant, since he had a headache anyway, and it kept him from thinking about Madeline. The phone rang shortly after ten, startling him. Only a handful of people called him on that line.
Hell, since he’d backed off from social contact over the past two years, pretty much no one called unless it was business related.
“Hello, Ty. This is Susan at the post office.”
“Hi, Susan,” Ty said with a sense of foreboding.
“Madeline received an official-looking letter. I thought she might want to get it once the roads are clear.”
“I’ll pass the message along.” Although there was no way her little car was going to make it to the gate, much less to town with the new accumulation of snow.
“And you have that package I’m sure she told you about. Things are getting crowded down here. You really need to pick it up.”
“Okay.” Madeline hadn’t mentioned a package, but she probably thought he collected his mail regularly, like a normal person. And he had, until she’d showed up. After that he’d stayed on the ranch, almost as if he was guarding it from her.
“Would you happen to remember who the package was from?” Ty asked. Susan remembered everything, from the tiniest gossip to the person who had sent the nicest valentine in the fourth grade.
“Your mother, Ty. You might want to get this one.”
“Thanks, Susan. I’ll be down today or tomorrow depending on the roads.”
“Have a good day, Ty. Goodbye.”
She’d already hung up by the time he said goodbye back.
His mom had sent him a package. At Christmas. They emailed regularly and she knew what a hard time this was for him, even if he didn’t spell it out. So why would she have sent him a gift?
Keep an open mind, he reminded himself, remembering how Madeline had insisted she was doing that concerning the ranch.
Open minds took a hell of a lot of willpower.
MADELINE WAS GETTING nowhere on her book when Ty knocked on her door. The power was off, so no issues there. Maybe he needed help with something. She dropped her pen onto the legal pad and answered the door.
“Susan from the post office called. You have an official-looking letter. I think that means you have to sign for it.”Madeline’s stomach tightened. An official letter could be good news…but what were the chances?
“I could probably sign as your agent.”
Her eyes shot up to his. “You’re going to town?”
“Either that or starve.”
“Can I ride along?”
“As long as you know the risks. I can’t guarantee safe passage down the mountain and back up again. We may end up stuck and walking.”
She considered the matter for a few seconds—or pretended to. She wanted that letter. Madeline had never been a big one for surprises. “I’ll wear the coveralls if I have to.”
A slight smile briefly curved his mouth. Someday she was going to have to see if she could coax another real smile out of him.
As soon as Ty left, she changed into her jeans. In a way, Nevada had been very good for her, since life on the ranch had lessened her professional anxiety. During the day she was fully able to believe Everett’s assertions that he had legal matters firmly in hand and she had nothing to worry about. At night…well, at night she still tended to obsess. But she had to put her faith in her lawyer. She was, after all, innocent, and this was, after all, a formality. The legal department covering all bases.
So what was this official letter?
She slipped into her boots.
Madeline bit her lip. She wasn’t going to think about it until she had the letter in her hand, because obsessing about it on the drive down the mountain wouldn’t help.
ACTUALLY, TY HAD ENOUGH food to make it a couple more days if he didn’t mind diving into the emergency canned goods, and he had to post the grant application day after tomorrow, so he’d be making another trip to town then. But Madeline wanted this letter. If their positions were reversed and his professional future was in question, he’d probably drive through deep snow to get an official letter, so that was exactly what he was going to do for Madeline. He owed her.
When he started the truck, she came out of her trailer, and damned if she wasn’t carrying the coveralls. She wore her puffy coat and sissy gloves, and a giant scarf was draped over her shoulders, almost dragging on the ground.“Where’s your beret?” Ty asked as she got into the rig.
“In my pocket.”
“Heck of a scarf you have there,” he said when she shut the thing in the door and had to open the door again to pull it out. He wanted to keep things normal. No glowering. No reason for Madeline to come at him again. He’d be the civil business partner that he’d promised her he’d try to be.
“My grandmother made it for me,” she said. “Grandma always was an overachiever.” The look she gave him came across as self-conscious. He had the strong impression that she, too, was trying hard to act normal. Great. They could both fake normal during what would undoubtedly be a long trip to town.
Ty put the truck in gear and drove to the gate. He’d plowed to the county road, but after that it was a matter of four-wheel drive and silent prayers.
“Where does your grandmother live?” he asked, his eyes on the road. He’d left the gate open so he wouldn’t have to stop.
“In a retirement community for the academic crowd.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Well, you know how some retirement communities are built around golf courses? This one is built around a library and computer labs. Most of the people there taught at some level. There are a few researchers, though.”
Ty shook his head. “What did your grandmother teach? Or was she a researcher?”
“She taught. She was in anthropology.”
“Is that why you went into it?”
“Pretty much. My grandfather was a brilliant businessman, so he paid the bills and Grandma bent young minds. Skip took after him and I took after her.”
“I see.” He didn’t want to talk about Skip.
“Nobody understood why Skip abandoned his MBA studies to become a rancher.”
“He loved it,” Ty said shortly.
“So I hear.”
The truck was handling the deep snow well, but he focused on the road with more intensity than necessary, hoping Madeline would change the subject. No such luck.
“I told him he was a fool for doing what he did—sinking Grandpa’s inheritance into the ranch.”
“I can see your point,” Ty said stonily. Did she think that by talking about Skip it would help desensitize him? Fat chance.
After a few minutes of unexpected silence, Ty shot a look her way. She stared straight ahead out the windshield, lost in thought, and all Ty could think was I killed your brother.
The wheels hit a rut, dragging the truck toward the ditch, and Ty fought to keep it on the road. He managed. Barely.
“Well done,” Madeline murmured. She hadn’t so much as put a hand down to balance herself.
“Thanks,” he said automatically. “What do your parents do?” he blurted apropos of nothing.
“Gallivant.”
“Excuse me?”
Madeline smiled. It was possible she was thinking about the letter and not her brother. He was the one fixated on Skip. “They divorced when I was ten and Skip was eight. Skip and I moved in with our grandparents while they worked out custody, and we never left. I guess they never quite got custody hammered out.”
“You aren’t close to them?”
“We’re in sporadic contact. How about you?”
“My mom lives in Arizona, where I grew up. She married a nice guy there and has lived near Phoenix for almost twenty years.”
“Your parents are divorced?”
“Never married, but they did have a custody deal. I saw my dad during all the holidays, summers. I loved this area, which is where he lived at the time, so that’s why I bought here.”
“Where’s he now?”
Ty gave her a sidelong look, noting the concern in her face. “Sacramento. He married an urbanite who refuses to live outside the city limits.”
“Do you see him?”
“Not as much as I used to, but yeah. I see him.” His dad had used his vacation time to come to the ranch to help out for the first weeks after the accident, but phones calls were few and far between. Ty and his dad understood each other. He remembered the package at the post office. He’d thought his mother understood, too.
The drive off the mountain went better than Ty had anticipated. Only two close calls. Madeline hadn’t had to put on the coveralls and she had told him about her teaching job, which she seemed to like and was half afraid she might lose. Her face had clouded as she talked about it, making him want to punch out this Jensen asshole.
As they drove past the school, a draft horse pulling a wagon loaded with hay and kids crossed the intersection ahead of them. Madeline leaned forward in her seat.
“Look at that!”
Behind the horse and wagon came McKirk’s antique International pickup truck with more hay and a bunch of adults.
Great. The Christmas parade. He’d gone every year when he was a kid.
“What’s going on?” Madeline asked as what appeared to be the rest of the town trooped by on foot, talking and laughing.
“Christmas parade.”
“Wow. If everyone in town participates, that doesn’t leave many spectators.”
“Us.”
“Where are they going?”
“The park. I think they have drinks and stuff there. I haven’t been to one of these since I was twelve or thirteen.”
He could see that Madeline wanted to follow the action. Instead, after the last of the parade passed by, he turned onto the main street and drove to the post office. She didn’t say a word.
