Charlotte Carter - Montana Hearts

He’d lost a wife in that accident. His two children, a boy and a girl, had lost a mother. In her search for her donor family, she’d followed the story, his story and his children’s in the Seattle newspaper archives.

Sarah struggled to hold back the tears of empathy she had shed when she first read of his loss. The sweet taste of her tea was replaced by the bitter knowledge of death and grief.

Bonnie Sue delivered his cheeseburger and fries, and refilled his coffee. “How’re your kids doing?”

He took a bite of cheeseburger and talked around it. “Beth’s acting like a teenager, Toby’s all boy, and they’re both driving me and my mother-in-law crazy.”

Chuckling, Bonnie Sue said, “Yeah, makes you wonder some days why anybody has kids.”

“You got that right. In fact, you know of anybody who’d like a job as a housekeeper for the summer? I’m going to have to do something. I think it’s all getting to be too much for Grace. With the kids out of school for the summer…” He shrugged. “Having them around all the time gets overwhelming for her.”

Sarah tried not to eavesdrop, but that was impossible. He was sitting too close to her, his voice a smooth baritone that held a heavy note of weariness.

“Don’t know of anybody offhand,” Bonnie Sue said.

“I’ll keep you in mind though.”

He thanked her with a wave of his hand and she went off to refill the coffee mugs of the two men in the booth.

A moment later, Kurt said, “Excuse me. Could you slide that ketchup down this way?”

Sarah started. She hadn’t expected—

She found the ketchup behind the napkin holder and slid it in his direction.

“Thanks.” He gave the bottle a couple of hard shakes and virtually covered his fries with ketchup.

“I sure hope you like lots of ketchup on your fries.”

The corner of his lips lifted with the hint of a smile, just enough that Sarah’s heart did a pleasant little flutter.

He picked up a drenched French fry and popped it in his mouth. “That your hybrid car parked out front?”

“Yes.” As nearly as Sarah could tell, everyone in this town drove pickup trucks, most with rifles mounted across the back window.

“Looks more like a toy than a car.”

“I’m getting almost fifty miles per gallon on the highway,” she countered.

“Hmm…” He arrowed another fry into his mouth, and licked the extra ketchup off his lips with his tongue.

“You’d probably have trouble stuffing a bale of hay in the back.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.” His implied criticism of her car annoyed her. She didn’t need a truck, certainly not in Seattle. “It may look small, but you’d be surprised how much it can carry.”

He eyed her in a thoroughly masculine fashion, which brought heat to her face.

“If you say so,” he drawled in his deep baritone voice.

He returned his attention to his burger and fries, leaving Sarah feeling slightly breathless and surprisingly intrigued by the man.

Within minutes, he’d finished his meal, while she’d only made it through half a sandwich. He put some money on the counter and picked up his hat.

“Nice talkin’ to you.” He touched the brim of his Stetson and sauntered out the door.

In spite of herself, Sarah exhaled in relief.

Bonnie came over to pick up his cash and the dirty dishes.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” she said, putting the ketchup bottle back where it belonged. “When he lost his wife, I’d never seen a man so stricken. And his two kids.” She shook her head. “A real shame, that’s what it was. He could sure use all the help he can get.”

Sarah glanced out the front window. Kurt had parked across the street, a black extended-cab pickup. He stood talking with another man, one hand resting on the open window of his truck.

“Do you think he really wants to hire a house keeper?” she asked.

“I imagine so. Grace Livingston, his mother-in-law, is still grieving. Can’t get over losing her only child. I don’t expect trying to take care of Kurt’s two kids is easy at her age.”

Sarah waited for a full minute, trying to decide what to do. Taking a chance warred with her fear of hurting people who had given her so much. She’d come here to help the Ryder family. Had she just been presented with a way to do that?

Please, God, let me do no harm.

She dug some money out of her wallet and put it on the counter. “Thanks.”

“Wait, you didn’t eat all of your sandwich. Was there something wrong?”

“No, it was fine. It’s just that—” Across the street, Kurt was getting into his truck. She didn’t want him to leave until she had a chance to talk to him.

She left the diner at a dead run.

Kurt slid his key into the truck’s ignition. He had to get back to the ranch. Lately, Beth and his mother-in-law had been all but coming to blows over one thing or another. His job was to referee.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ryder?”

The feminine voice startled him. He turned to find the woman from the diner standing next to his truck, her sky-blue eyes filled with an intensity that pulled her blond eyebrows closer together. Her short, sassy hairdo and the way she dressed in slacks and a blouse identified her as a city girl.

“What can I do for you?” He mentally shrugged. Maybe her impractical little car had broken down and she needed a ride.

“My name’s Sarah Barkley. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation in the diner. If you’re really looking for a housekeeper, I’d be interested in applying for the job.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth went slack. She was the least likely looking housekeeper he’d ever met. Way too slender and dainty to handle any heavy work. A real lightweight. He had to wonder if she even knew how to cook.

“Miss, my ranch is five miles out of town. My closest neighbor is more than a mile away as the crow flies. I’ve got two kids who can be a handful and are forever tracking dirt into the house, stacks of laundry are always piling up and three meals a day need to be fixed.” His wife, Zoe, had grown to hate the isolation, the constant sameness of each day. That’s why they’d gone to Seattle, to give her a break. A second honeymoon, they’d said. And he’d as good as killed her with his own hand. The grief, that truth, had been lying in his stomach like a sun-baked rock for more than a year.

“I don’t mean to insult you,” he said, “but you don’t look like you’d be up to a job like that.”

A blush traveled up her slender neck and bloomed on her cheeks. “Mr. Ryder, I’m a lot like my car. I may look small but I’m strong and dependable and tougher than you think.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a business card and wrote something on the back. “That’s my cell number. I’ll be in town for a day or two if you change your mind. Naturally, I’d be happy to provide references.”

“References as a housekeeper?” Maybe as secretary for a big-city law firm, or even a paralegal. Not a housekeeper. That didn’t fit.

“References from people who know me.”

With that, she whirled and walked briskly back across the street. In the side mirror, Kurt watched her go, a bundle of energy in a small but very attractive package. He’d give her an A for spunk, too.

He glanced at the number she’d written on the card then flipped it over. Sarah Barkley, Puget Sound Business Services, Payroll & Accounting, Seattle, Washington.

Maybe she’d been laid off or the company went out of business. He shrugged and tossed the card on the passenger seat. No matter. Time to get back to the ranch.

Less than ten minutes later, he drove over the cattle guard and through the entrance of the Rocking R Ranch. His great-grandfather had moved to the northern plains of Montana with his family when he was ten. They’d homesteaded the land, raised cattle, made friends with the Indians and sometimes battled them. His ancestors’ blood and sweat and tears had nurtured the land, protected it. Now it was Kurt’s turn to protect that legacy for his own children and teach them to love the Rocking R as much as he did.