The Rancher's Prospect (8 page)

So what? Josh could just...lump it.

* * *

A
T
THE
END
OF
the week, Josh crouched and examined the damaged fence that one of his employees had found. Fence repairs weren't unusual, but Clyde Hawes had called, saying it appeared to be vandalism. Intentional damage was rare in the area. The days of cattle rustlers and territorial rivalries had largely passed; when they had problems, it was usually a lark, pulled by drunken teenagers.

“What do you think, boss?” Clyde asked. He was one of the older hands on the ranch, and Josh relied on his experience.

“You're right, it looks cut. Take care of the repairs, and I'll give a report to the sheriff.”

“Yup.”

With no more ado, Clyde set to work.

Josh remounted Lightfoot and headed back to the ranch center, calling the county sheriff's office on his satellite phone as he rode. Carl Stanfield wasn't available, but a deputy took the report and said they'd run extra patrols past the Boxing N. She didn't need to say that catching someone in the act was unlikely.

After tucking the phone back in his pocket, Josh flexed his hand. It was better. Healing had taken a while, especially since he hadn't been able to take it easy the way Lauren Spencer had advised. That was ranching. Hard, unremitting effort. The only reason someone would do it was pure love for the life.

Tara's comments about living paycheck to paycheck crossed Josh's mind, and his mouth tightened. He'd almost protested that he worked just as hard as anyone, but how could he deny that his trust fund set him apart? He didn't live high. His pay as a foreman had more than covered his expenses, but it wouldn't have concerned him if a paycheck was late.

He wished he could push Tara's voice out of his head, but she
had
put a finger on one of his troubles. He was trying to do it all, the same as his grandfather. And he knew better. His experience in Texas had taught him the importance of having a foreman on a large ranch. Instead he'd told himself that he first needed to get the place in better working order. With a small ranch he might have pulled it off, but he had to delegate at the Boxing N.

As he approached the ranch center, Tara rushed through the door of the foaling barn.

“I went to visit the filly,” she said, her eyes wide and alarmed. “A cowhand is down in Belle's stall. He's unconscious and there's blood on his forehead. I tried calling nine-one-one, but my cell doesn't have a signal out here.”

Josh swung off Lightfoot and dropped the stallion's reins over a post. Andrew Whitlan was lying motionless inside Belle's stall. The mare nickered angrily and stomped the barn floor. She was an exceptionally protective mother and must have believed she was defending her baby.

“Is my grandfather here?” he asked Tara.

“Your mom took him to a doctor's appointment.”

Right. Josh had forgotten Walt was scheduled to see the orthopedist in Helena.

“I need to get Belle out of there before we can do anything,” he explained.

Murmuring softly, he stepped into the stall. Belle eyed him with a challenge. The mare was one of the finest ever born on the ranch, but she was high-strung and difficult to handle. His grandfather was the only human she completely trusted.

“Whoa, girl, it's okay. You know me.” Approaching without making any sudden moves, he sneaked his hand up to the lead on her halter.

Her nostrils flared, and he glanced over his shoulder. Tara had come into the stall as well, and was kneeling beside Andrew.

“Don't move him,” he warned in the same soothing voice. “He could have a neck injury.”

“I figured as much,” she commented drily.

The teenager's eyes fluttered open, and he moaned.

“Don't try to get up,” she cautioned.

“I...I'm okay,” the kid answered gamely.

“Probably,” she agreed, “but remember what ballplayers are told on the field—don't move until the coach says it's okay.”

Andrew smiled feebly and remained still.

Tara looked at Josh. “Shall I go call nine-one-one at the office?”

“No, use this.” He tossed his satellite phone to her. Belle reared, and he brought her down again. “Whoa, girl.” He pulled firmly on the halter, trying to convince her to come with him, but the effort seemed to agitate her more. No way was she leaving without her baby.

After a brief phone conversation, Tara looked up. “The ambulances are tied up on other calls. They asked if you have a neck collar and whether we could transport him. Surely that isn't standard procedure.”

“This isn't the city—sometimes we have to do what's necessary,” he returned, only to regret his sharp tone. He needed her cooperation. “Look, we've got a wide range of emergency equipment. Tell them we'll bring him in ourselves.”

Tara relayed the information to the dispatcher and pressed the off button. “Now what?”

“Can you get up nice and slow and coax the filly from the stall? Belle won't leave without her.”

“Sure.”

Tara stood and held her hand out. “Hey, there, baby,” she breathed.

Josh's eyes widened as the filly eagerly came to Tara, sniffing and nuzzling her fingers.

“Come on, little one.” Tara took a slow step backward, and the filly followed trustingly. As Josh had expected, once her foal was headed toward the exit, Belle was eager to leave, as well.

“There's an empty stall next to this one,” he said.

Tara nodded, and a few moments later, both horses were safe inside, with the stall door closed behind them.

Josh ran to the supply room and retrieved a neck collar and backboard. His first aid training had never been more useful as he eased the collar around the kid's neck.

“Andrew, we're also going to put a board under your back,” he explained. “That way we can be sure you stay in one position on the way to the hospital.”

“Gee, boss, I don't need a hospital,” Andrew complained.

“Yeah, that blood on your forehead is just paint and you were taking a nap when I got here.”

The boy grinned sheepishly. “I didn't know she'd get so upset if I went into the stall. It's my fault,” he added hastily. “I startled her.”

Josh finished strapping him onto the backboard and patted his shoulder. Andrew Whitlan definitely had the right stuff. He'd defended the horse instead of himself.

Ironically, Josh had intended to spend the morning working with Andrew before being called away because of the vandalized fencing. He was sure the kid could become a good cowhand with the right guidance.

“I'm awful sorry,” Andrew added. “You aren't going to fire me, are you?”

“No way,” Josh promised. He looked at Tara. “Can you help lift him into the truck? I'll call one of the hands if you don't think you're strong enough.”

“I can do it.”

Josh got his pickup and backed it into the barn. Andrew was skinny, and it didn't take long to slide him into the truck bed.

“I'll ride back here with you, okay?” Tara asked.

“That'd be
great
.”

The boy's enthusiasm brought a reluctant smile to Josh's mouth. He remembered what it was like to be a teenager with raging hormones. If a woman with Tara's looks had offered special attention, it would have taken more than a kick in the head to stop him from enjoying every minute.

When Tara was settled next to Andrew, Josh climbed behind the wheel. The distance into town loomed before him ominously. The truck had great suspension, but every bump would be uncomfortable for the teenager. And what if his injuries were more severe than they seemed?

CHAPTER SEVEN

J
OSH
DROVE
OUT
on the Boxing N's gravel road, scowling at every jolt. It was smoother once they reached the paved road, and he used Bluetooth to contact Schuyler Memorial Hospital to give them an estimated time of arrival.

A stray thought went through his head as he disconnected... Bluetooth was another one of those “fancy-dancy” inventions his grandfather pooh-poohed on a regular basis. It made Josh wonder whether Walt had done the same thing with his wife; Grandma Evelyn had loved modern gadgetry. While he was down in Texas, they'd emailed and Skyped on a regular basis. Josh had wondered what happened to her laptop before realizing it might have been in the car when it crashed.

He pulled into the parking lot at the hospital and saw a medical team was waiting for them outside the emergency room entrance. Schuyler had the best emergency response procedures in the area.

“Hey, Andrew,” said the doctor as he jumped into the back of the truck and began a swift examination. “I hear you've acquired a taste for horse hooves.”

“Just my dumb-ass luck, Dr. Gonzalez,” Andrew replied. “I'd rather have a horse under my butt than in my face.”

The doctor chuckled and looked at Tara. “I see you had pleasant company for your ride into town.”

“Yep. Makes a kick in the head worthwhile.”

Tara's eyes twinkled down at Andrew. “Watch it, or I'll tell your girlfriend you were flirting.”

“Ellie wouldn't care. She'd say I need the practice.”

Dr. Gonzalez gestured to the orderlies. “Okay, let's bring him inside.”

Josh helped slide Andrew onto the waiting gurney, and they followed the group into the hospital.

“We'll check in with you as soon as we know something,” the physician advised.

Josh frowned, torn by the desire to stay and his obligation to Tara. “Actually, I'll be back as soon as possible. I need to take Ms. Livingston back to her car.”

“Don't be silly,” she objected. “I'll wait, too.”

“Tara, don't forget to call Ellie,” Andrew called as he was wheeled away.

“I'll do it first thing,” she assured.

Josh led Tara to the waiting room, where she took out her smartphone, consulted a piece of paper and punched in the numbers. He didn't try to follow the low-voiced conversation.

When she was done, Tara glanced at him. “Andrew's girlfriend is babysitting her brother and sister, so she can't come over right away. I also called his mom on the way into town. Mrs. Whitlan was visiting an aunt in Helena, but she's contacting his father and they'll both be here as quickly as possible.”

If possible, Josh felt worse than before. As Andrew's employer, he should have thought to contact the Whitlans earlier. He'd just focused on getting Andrew to the hospital while ignoring the grinding pain in his gut—the whole thing was too reminiscent of the day his grandparents had been hurt in that car crash.

He let out a breath. “I'm sorry you got caught up in this.”

“No reason to apologize. I'm glad I was there. Andrew seems to be a nice kid.”

“He is.” Josh leaned back and brushed his fingers through his hair. “I only hired him this month and haven't had time to do any proper training. Something like this should never have happened.”

* * *

T
ARA
REGARDED
J
OSH
'
S
FACE
. At times she could barely stand the guy, but she sympathized with his anguish. He obviously cared about his employees and felt responsible for Andrew's injury.

“It was an accident,” Tara told him. “You aren't at fault.”

“That won't be much comfort if he's seriously hurt.”

Josh looked so miserable that Tara felt sorry for him.

“Honestly, don't beat yourself up,” she urged. “On the drive into town, Andrew admitted that you'd told him not to go in Belle's stall, but he wanted to impress you with his ability around horses, so he went in to clean it out.” She grinned. “I'm not sure why he looks up to you so much, but there's no accounting for taste.”

The atmosphere lightened, and Josh returned her smile. “Gee, thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

They fell silent as a man came in and spoke to someone at the desk about his wife. It was a long discussion, and Tara watched idly. He appeared worried, but as time went on, she began to doubt his concern was genuine. Finally he stomped off after being told his wife would be admitted to the hospital for tests.

“Not the happiest marriage, I'd guess,” Josh commented.

Tara was surprised he'd picked up on the subtle signals, but a stubborn gremlin inside made her say, “Who knows? He might just hate hospitals and red tape.”

Silence fell for another few minutes.

“I understand Andrew's father works for one of your brothers,” Tara murmured at length.

“Yeah, Trent. Perry Whitlan grew up on a ranch and his father was a top-notch rancher, but Perry decided construction was more his taste, so the ranch got sold before Andrew was born.”

“Will Mr. Whitlan be able to leave the job site and come to the hospital?”

“Sure, Trent is a good boss.” Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “He owns Big Sky Construction, and one of our sisters is his office manager. Alaina is supposed to be on maternity leave right now, but she's spending lots of time at work, anyhow. She says little Evelyn doesn't care whether she's in a bassinet at home or at the Big Sky office.”

Tara remembered that it was Alaina who'd been having a baby the day that she and Lauren had stopped at the hospital.

“Big Sky must be a popular company. I see their sign on construction sites all over town.”

Josh chuckled. “It's the biggest in the area. As a matter of fact, Trent is one of the reasons that ranchers around here have a hard time getting good cowhands. He's major competition when it comes to hiring.”

“You don't seem to mind.”

“Nah. Trent is a good employer, and his success benefits the community. Besides, I enjoy razzing him about it. Though, frankly, he's more fun to tease since he got married. Emily has been good for him.”

“Even though she's from the city?”

Josh shrugged. “Time will tell, to quote my mom. City people usually end up returning to the city. We're used to that around here. They come in, buy a place, spend a bundle fixing it up, only to discover they can't stand the quiet.”

Cynical
, Tara thought. Or maybe realistic. She couldn't imagine living in such a small, remote town herself. It was nice for a visit, but she loved the excitement of cities such as Paris and Tokyo. Then something else occurred to her and she cocked her head.

“Is that what your mother says about Trent and Emily's marriage...that time will tell? It's rather pessimistic.”

Josh looked shocked. “Of course not. She thinks Emily practically walks on water. The same with Kayla, my brother Jackson's wife. It's just one of those old phrases that get passed down. Grandma Evelyn used to say it, too.”

Awkwardness suddenly filled Tara. Josh had lost his grandmother a few months before, and while he'd mentioned her in several conversations, Tara had never offered condolences. It was one of the social conventions she didn't handle well. She didn't know what it was like to have a grandparent she loved or how it would feel to lose them.

Lauren would understand. She probably said all the right things at all the right moments. Was it simply because she'd grown up with a real family?

Ever since Lauren had mentioned her parents wishing they could have adopted them both, Tara couldn't help thinking how different her life might have been. It was an appealing image. On the other hand, she would be a different person now, and she didn't know if that would be good or bad.

Twenty minutes later, another man rushed up to the emergency room desk. “I'm Perry Whitlan. My wife called and told me our son is here,” he gasped. “His name is Andrew.”

“I'll check on him.”

Josh stood. “Hello, Mr. Whitlan. I brought Andrew in after the accident.”

“Is he badly hurt?”

“I'm sorry, I haven't spoken to the doctor yet.”

Tara's jaw dropped.

She might be lousy at human relations, but even
she
recognized a lame-ass answer when she heard one.

She stepped forward. “Good afternoon, Mr. Whitlan. I rode into town with Andrew. He talked the whole way and is mostly embarrassed about what happened. His main concern is keeping his job at the Boxing N.”

The man's face relaxed. “That sounds like Andrew. I kept telling him that he was just romanticizing the life, but he still wanted to try. Turns out I was wrong and he loves it.”

“I understand you grew up in ranching.”

“Yeah, only I wanted to build things instead of mucking out stalls and chasing cows. Right now I'm foreman on a construction job over in Cottonwood Bend. That's why it took me a while to get here.” He looked at Josh. “My son was thrilled when you hired him. Andrew applied at two other ranches and they wouldn't give him a shot. You'd think with his grandfather's reputation he wouldn't have had so much trouble.”

Josh shifted his feet, uncomfortably aware that he wouldn't have hired Andrew, either, if he hadn't been desperate. “He's a good kid and has real potential.”

“I'm glad.”

A hospital volunteer stepped into the waiting room. “Mr. Whitlan? You can come in and see your son.”

Josh glanced at Tara when they were alone again. “Thanks for the way you handled that.”

“No problem.”

Strangely, the temporary absence of tension between them made her uneasy. She didn't want to become friendly with Josh. It was already hard enough being caught between him and Walt. Work tensions she understood and could deal with as necessary. But in Schuyler she was treading on new ground; somehow the Boxing N was becoming more than a place of employment and Walt more than a boss. She didn't need the added complication of being attracted to Josh. It was annoying. She wanted to ignore her response to him, but it wasn't that easy.

Still, it wasn't as if she was moving to Montana, and she'd learned a long time ago how to get through difficult situations. So she squared her shoulders and sat down, determined to get through this one, one step at a time.

* * *

J
OSH
WAS
PUZZLED
by the shifting emotions on Tara's face, but right now he could only afford to worry about one thing, and that was whether Andrew was all right.

Half an hour after Perry Whitlan arrived, Andrew's mother hurried in and was escorted to the examination room to see her son. After another twenty minutes, the elder Whitlans came out, relaxed and smiling.

“It was so nice of you to wait, Mr. McGregor,” said Mrs. Whitlan. “Andrew is fine. He needed a few stitches and the doctor wants him to stay overnight for observation, but it's mostly a precaution. He says Andrew must have a very hard head, which I could have told him
without
a CAT scan.”

Josh's taut nerves began to uncoil. “Terrific,” he answered. “Tell him to get better soon and that I'm looking forward to seeing him back at work when he's ready.”

“Thank you.”

While he shook hands with Perry, Mrs. Whitlan grabbed Tara into a hug. “I'm so glad you were there to help my son.”

As Tara stepped back, her cheeks were pink and she seemed distinctly uncomfortable. “I didn't do that much.”

“That isn't what Andrew said.”

After he and Tara left the hospital, Josh glanced at his watch. “It's nearly two. Have you eaten?”

“No, but I have yogurt back at the office.”

Yogurt? Josh shuddered as they walked out to his truck. He helped her into the high seat, distracted enough that he could almost ignore her long, silk-clad legs. “Let's go by the Roundup Café. A good meal is the least I can do to show my appreciation.”

“That isn't necessary.”

“Come on, I'm sure we're both hungry.”

He wasn't sure why he kept pushing, except it seemed appropriate. Tara had helped with a ranch emergency, and he was caught between gratitude for the assistance and frustration that he now owed her.

When he had a moment, he would have to sort everything out in his head and decide how to respond. In the meantime, buying lunch was the civil thing to do...sort of like discharging a debt.

“All right,” she agreed slowly.

It was a short drive—nothing in Schuyler was a long way from anything else. Josh parked in front of the café and went to open the passenger door. He put a hand out, once again trying not to look at her legs; sometimes being a gentleman was a challenge.

He swallowed as she hiked up her skirt and extended her leg to the ground. Ordinarily he wasn't a leg man, but hers were a treat. And she wasn't even wearing a sexy outfit, just a slim suit that was entirely professional...however unsuitable it might be for a ranch.

Inside they were seated quickly.

“Good to see you, Josh,” the server said. “Before it slips my mind, folks have been wondering if you're having the big barn dance at the Boxing N this year. I meant to ask the last time you were here and forgot.”

Damn.

He'd been ducking the question for several weeks, unsure of the answer. For the past half century the Boxing N had thrown a huge party in the spring. A wave of nostalgia went through him. A whole lot of nice things had happened at those barn dances, including his first kiss.

But the party had always been Grandma Evelyn's special project, and he didn't have time to take care of it himself. His mom had offered, but it wouldn't be fair. She was enjoying her new grandbabies, and working on the party would be a constant reminder that she needed to do it because her mother was gone.