Callie Endicott - The Rancher's Prospect

Curiosity drove him to his feet, and he strode toward the office. But as he got closer, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Tara Livingston. What the devil was she doing here?

“Hey, Grandpa,” he said as he came close. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course,” Walt said. He appeared thoroughly self-satisfied, which was instantly worrisome. “As I recall, you’ve already met Miss Livingston. I just hired her to get the office in order.”

Josh managed to swallow the “hell, no,” that instantly leaped into his mouth. “Really?” he choked out instead. If it wasn’t one complication, it was another.

“Yep. I’ve been thinking about doing it, and she came along at the right moment.”

Tara’s eyes sparkled, and Josh was sure she’d guessed his reaction.

“I see,” he said. “Perhaps you could have consulted me first.”

“No point,” Walt informed him stiffly. “I told you I’d take care of things. Tara, when will you be starting?”

“Monday.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you then.” With that, he limped toward the main house.

Josh watched his grandfather’s retreating figure in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Tara, “there’s been a mistake. This is my ranch now, and I’m still evaluating what to do with the office. Your services won’t be needed.”

A smile played on her lips. “It isn’t your decision. Mr. Nelson was very clear that he was hiring me, not the ranch.”

“That doesn’t make any difference,” Josh returned quickly. “Please tell my grandfather that you can’t work for him. Anyway, I understand you’re here on an extended vacation. Why would you want a job?”

She shrugged, and he couldn’t help noticing the way her silk blouse slid over her breasts. Crap. It didn’t make sense—Lauren had never made him react this way.

“It really isn’t a vacation, I’m here to get to know my sister,” she said. “But Lauren has her own job and I’m not used to being idle. So when folks started asking if I was available to work, I thought it was a good way to keep occupied.”

“Why the Boxing N?”

“It’s as good a place as any. I’m taking contracts at more than one location, but I have a feeling this will be my favorite.”

“If you’ve got employment elsewhere, you don’t need to work here.”

Tara’s blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not for you to tell me what to do.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing. I was just pointing out that you don’t seem to need the job here.”

“Are you also the arbiter of what I need?”

“I didn’t say that, either,” Josh insisted.

“Sure you did. What’s your problem, anyhow? I’m only asking because I’ll be working at the Boxing N and your attitude affects me.”

His head was starting to spin. “Then quit.”

She shrugged. “Technically I’m a freelance contractor, but regardless, I have no intention of quitting. And if you think you can fire me, reconsider the thought. Do I need to point out again that Mr. Nelson made it very clear that I’ll be working for him, not the ranch? I’ll be looking out for his interests, not yours.”

Josh counted to ten, then to ten once more. She had him over a barrel. As much as he wanted to lay down the law to his grandfather, he couldn’t disenfranchise the old guy. Besides, if Walt had hired Tara as his personal employee or contractor, nobody else could fire her. Well, since he owned the Boxing N now, he could restrict her access to the ranch, but he could imagine the explosion that would follow.

For a brief second, Josh considered trying to convince Tara to help him get Walt to be more reasonable, but she’d made it clear where her loyalties lay.

“Very well,” Josh said in a stiff, formal tone. “At the very least, I’d appreciate reports about your progress in the office.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Walt for any updates he wants to share.”

She marched to her car and got behind the wheel. Waving as though they’d simply had a cordial chat, she drove down the road toward the main entrance.

Damn, she was aggravating.

His thoughts spinning, Josh returned to his porch, even more discouraged than when he’d gotten off the phone with the retired pharmacist. Without treating Walt with a disrespect he didn’t deserve, Josh couldn’t fire Tara, and he couldn’t direct her work since he wasn’t the one paying her.

A grim humor shook him.

One thing he had to give to his grandfather—he was a wily old coot. Walt had planned ahead, hired Tara and made sure she knew he was the one writing her paychecks. Josh couldn’t help wondering why. There were qualified secretaries and accountants in Schuyler that Walt could have employed. Of course it was doubtful that any of them looked like Tara—so what was the possibility that his grandfather had been bowled over by a young woman’s beauty? Not in an inappropriate way, but the way an old man appreciates the reminders of youth and a young man’s vigor.

Josh didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. Of one thing he was sure—Walt was a stiff-necked pain in the ass and couldn’t let go of controlling the ranch, but he was honorable. And on that, Josh trusted they had a small amount of common ground.

* * *

CARL STANFIELD PULLED to a stop at the light and waved at Emmett Foster as he crossed in front of the sheriff’s cruiser. Emmett was around sixty and ornery as sin, but Carl liked him. It was hard not to like most of the people in Schuyler. That wasn’t to say his job was heaven on earth. No job—and no town—was perfect. But on average, it was considerably calmer in Schuyler than in St. Louis, where he’d worked for a good deal of his career.

St. Louis was a great place, but it was still a city. And after being a homicide detective for a decade, few things surprised Carl anymore—he’d pretty much seen the worst.

But in Schuyler he saw a lot of the best. Of course, he also had to deal with the occasional cattle theft. Then there was the time he’d arrested a guy for a DUI because he was drunk while riding a horse. Not that a DUI while riding a horse would hold up in court—officially the charge was drunk and disorderly—but folks in Schuyler loved the story.

After parking at the medical center, Carl went inside.

“Hi, Karen,” he greeted the receptionist. “It isn’t an emergency, but does Lauren have a minute?”

“I’ll check when she’s finished with her patient.”

“Great.”

Unable to relax, Carl stood at the window watching the traffic pass in the street. He’d been in Schuyler for over two years and it was working out well.

Now he wanted to get his personal life on track. When he’d lived in St. Louis, the idea of settling down had held little appeal. The divorce rate among cops was disturbingly high, but things seemed different in Schuyler. A small town sheriff surely had a better shot at a successful marriage than a homicide detective working all hours of the day and night. Besides, the town felt like a good place to settle down and raise a family.

Not that Schuyler didn’t have its pitfalls. The area had quite a history of ranch rivalries and family loyalties, which was why the county supervisors had decided to look for law enforcement from outside the area. For the same reason, Carl had realized it might be best to date women who were relatively new to town...such as Lauren. Well, Lauren was the only one he’d dated, but there was something special about her.

“Carl?” Karen said, breaking into his thoughts.

He swung around. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you wait in Lauren’s office?”

“Sure.”

That was better. He’d rather not talk to Lauren in front of the waiting patients, and particularly not in front of Karen after their recent encounter at Ryan’s Roadhouse. She and her boyfriend had just broken up and she’d had more than her share of booze, though to her credit she’d given her car keys to the bartender the minute she ordered her first Long Island iced tea. Somehow she’d consumed five of them and had still been sitting upright.