The Virgin and Zach Coulter (4 page)

“You mean we all have to agree before we can sell any sections of land?” Zach guessed shrewdly.

“Exactly.” Cade nodded and leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, his mug cupped between his hands. “As I said, I rounded up cattle and sold off all I could to make a payment on the taxes. Anderson said it bought us some time, but we're going to need a hell of a lot more to clear the tax debt.”

“No other assets?” Zach asked. “What about Mom's collections—and Dad's. Did he sell them all off after we left?” Zach had vivid memories of the art, antiques and historical artifacts his parents had gathered. His favorite had been the dozens of wagons, buggies and
other conveyances that had filled a huge storage building a mile from the ranch house.

“If any of Mom's sculptures were in her studio when Dad locked the doors and sealed the building after she died, they have the potential to be very valuable. Mom's more famous now than she was when she was alive and working. And if Brodie decides to sell some of the horses—if there are any horses—they could be worth quite a bit.” Cade paused to lift his mug and drink. “And if you find a way to raise money with the Lodge, it could go a long way to paying off the tax debt. I'm assuming you don't have a few extra million sitting in a bank account that you'd be willing to use?” he added drily, his lips quirking.

“Me?” Zach shook his head. “I have investments, but nothing I can liquidate to get that kind of cash.” He eyed Cade. “Exactly how much money are we talking about here, in round figures?”

The amount Cade quoted had Zach whistling softly.

“That's a hell of a lot of zeroes,” he said. “If we all agreed, what about selling off some acres of land to raise the money?”

“We could do that,” Cade told him. “But if we do, the size of the Triple C would be radically reduced. And if we want to keep it, we'd have a hard time making it profitable.”

“So we either find a way between the four of us to raise the money to pay the taxes, or we sell the ranch intact, pay off the taxes, split what's left between the four of us and walk away.”

“That's about the size of it,” Cade agreed.

“Hell.” Zach pushed his empty plate away and leaned back in his chair, frowning at his brother. “I vote to keep the place. But I don't like the odds of our being able to raise that kind of money.”

“And we can't have a definitive plan until we talk to Eli and Brodie,” Cade finished for him.

“Exactly.” Zach crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes over his brother's face, considering. “But I'd bet my life neither of them will want to sell.” He looked at Mariah, then back at Cade. “It's unlikely I'll stay in Montana when all this is over. But you two—” he gestured at them “—you're going to live here and work the ranch, right?”

Cade's gaze met Mariah's and she smiled faintly, nodding at him.

“Yeah,” he said with surety. “We'd like to raise our kids here.”

“Kids.” Zach was suddenly sidetracked by the memory of himself and his three brothers swimming in the creek on a hot summer day, riding horses at breakneck speed over the prairie, or climbing the butte behind the house to get closer to the stars hanging in the velvety black night sky. Yeah, he thought, this would be a good place for kids if Cade was their father. “You plan to make me an uncle?”

“Sure.” Cade grinned him, deep green eyes lit with amusement.

“Damn.” Zach shook his head in mock disbelief. He couldn't remember seeing Cade this happy in years. He winked at Mariah. “Are you sure you want to take him on? He was hell on wheels as a kid—what if you have a boy like him?”

“I'd love it,” she answered promptly.

The sound of an engine turning over sounded from outside and Cade glanced at his watch.

“That must be Pete taking J.T. to the bus stop,” he said. “It's later than I thought.”

“A bus stop? Have we got school kids living here?”

“Just one,” Cade told him. “J.T. Butler is in high school. He works before and after school, on weekends and vacations, and lives in the bunkhouse with an older ranch hand, Pete Smith.”

“How many other employees?” Zach asked.

“None.”

Zach eyed Cade. “You're kidding, right?”

“Nope, that's it.”

“So the three of you are running the Triple C?”

“Pretty much.” Cade's grin told Zach he understood his disbelief.

“Hell.” Zach shook his head and muttered, “The hits just keep on comin'.”

“Yeah. The good news is the Turner brothers still own their place and they've been helping out. A lot,” Cade told him. “And the neighbors all pitched in to help when we rounded up the cattle.”

“Thank God for that.” Zach couldn't believe two men and Mariah had been working the Triple C. The ranch needed a crew big enough to fill the bunkhouse. Even when his father, Zach and his three brothers were all working, they'd still had several hired hands. Clearly, life on the Triple C had changed drastically over the years. And if he was going to contribute to paying off the tax debt, he'd better take a look at the condition of the ranch and the Lodge to get a better idea of just what
he and his brothers were facing. “What are you doing today?” Zach asked Cade.

“Nothing that can't be put off until tomorrow if you want company.”

Zach stretched, shoving one hand into the pocket of his faded jeans to pull out the small metal ring with its set of keys. He contemplated it for a moment, then looked at Cade. “Let's open up the Lodge.”

Cade nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Zach shoved back his chair and stood, carrying his dirty dishes to the sink where he rinsed them off and slotted them into the dishwasher rack.

“I'll grab my hat and be down in a minute,” he said. As he left the room, he caught a quick glimpse of Cade bending to brush a kiss against Mariah's mouth.

He wondered how she'd managed to get close enough to Cade to get under his skin, let alone capture his heart. Cade had always sworn he would never fall in love and marry. He'd claimed he carried too much baggage after enduring their father's misery and alcoholism following their mother's death.

Hell,
he thought.
We probably all do.
It was good to see Cade had found a woman he wanted to share his life with.

Mariah was wrong if she thought Zach would ever get married, though. He loved women, but marriage? Not in the cards. His lifestyle had him traveling often for work and his love of adventure did the same, which left little time or space to consider settling down. It wouldn't be fair to ask a woman to put up with his absence from home two-thirds of the year.

But in a flash of stark honesty, Zach realized that was
the stock answer he'd been giving for years to anyone who quizzed him about his bachelor status.

It was all true, but it wasn't the whole story.

If he were being honest, he knew he had the same reasons for avoiding marriage that Cade had. His parents had seemed happy and deeply in love before his mother died. After her death, Joseph had plunged into an abyss of grief and alcoholism, dragging his sons with him into their own particular hell.

Zach couldn't remember exactly when he'd made the decision, but within a few years of his mother's death, he'd vowed to never love anyone as much as his father had loved his mother.

And if Cade had leftover baggage from their childhood spent struggling to deal with Joseph's alcoholic rages and violence, then Zach was sure he did, too, despite the years he'd spent in counseling.

Still, he wondered if there was a possibility that someday, a woman might look at him like Mariah looks at Cade.

The swift image of Cynthia's soft mouth curving in a smile as she looked up at him, blue eyes warm with amusement, made his step falter.

He barely knew her, had only spent a few moments talking with her. Yet he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have her look at him with love.

W
hen Zach came back downstairs, Cade was waiting at the front door and they left the house together.

Zach paused on the porch, sweeping an assessing glance over the property. His ability to analyze and predict the potential of businesses had brought him executive-level success in San Francisco. He reported directly to the CEO of a capital venture firm; it was his responsibility to descend on companies in trouble, analyze their strengths and weaknesses, then recommend either a plan to save them or to dismantle them.

He'd never imagined that expertise would be used on his childhood home.

Though all but the house and bunkhouse were weathered and needed paint, each appeared to be in relatively good condition. What he could see of the fences in the pasture, they were straight and strong, with white-
faced Hereford cattle grazing within the barbed wire enclosures.

“I see you've started painting,” he commented as he and Cade left the porch and walked to his truck. “Any major repair work needed on the buildings?”

Cade detoured to his own truck, collected a tool-box from the back and returned to set it in the bed of Zach's truck. Then he pulled open the passenger door. “Everything is pretty sound. I haven't had to make any emergency repairs.”

Zach halted, hand on the driver's door handle, as a green truck pulled into the yard and stopped on the far side of Cade's vehicle. Zach instantly recognized the driver.

“Hey, Grady.” Warm pleasure filled Zach's voice as he greeted his old friend. The six Turner brothers lived on a neighboring ranch, and although Zach was five years older than Grady, they'd been best friends before he left Indian Springs. He purposely hadn't kept in touch with anyone in Montana, but he'd missed Grady and his brothers. “It's good to see you.”

“When did you get back?” Grady Turner jumped out of the pickup and jogged across the graveled yard to join him, the two men shook hands and exchanged a brief, hard hug. Grady nodded at Cade before turning back to Zach.

“Just yesterday,” Zach replied.

“I heard you were climbing Mt. Everest. How was it?”

“Cold.” Zach laughed at the expression on Grady's face.

“How was the trip home?”

“Long.”

“Damn.” Grady laughed. “I heard Cade reached you overseas.”

Zach nodded. “There was a message waiting for me when I descended to base camp.”

“Did you make it to the top of the mountain?” Grady asked with interest.

“Hell, yes.”

“Should have known.” Grady clapped him on the back. “Congratulations.”

“How are your brothers?”

“Fine—all five of them. We've all spent some time here on the Triple C over the last few months,” Grady said.

“Yeah, Cade told me how great you and your brothers have been.” Zach studied his old friend. “I appreciate it. I know Brodie and Eli would tell you the same if they were here.”

“Have you heard from your younger brothers?” Grady asked.

“No.” Zach shook his head. “I have an assistant who's talented at tracking people and I've asked her to start looking. With luck, she'll find them.”

“It's good to see you Coulters here on the Triple C again—since Cade's been back, the place is looking up. And now that you're here, too, things can only get better, right?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Zach said. “We're headed to the old Lodge to take a look inside—want to come with us?”

Grady shook his head. “I'm supposed to meet Mason in town and I'm late already. I just wanted to stop by and
say welcome home.” Grady held out his hand and Zach took it, the warm firm clasp an affirmation of friendship. “I'm damned glad you're home, Zach.” Grady clapped him on the shoulder once again. “You should join me and Mason at the Black Bear on Saturday. The management booked a good local band and you're sure to see people you know. My brothers will probably show up if they're in town.”

“I'll be there unless something comes up,” Zach promised.

The two men parted; Grady returned to his truck while Zach joined Cade in his pickup.

“Are you ready for this?” Cade asked, his deep voice quiet.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Zach replied, knowing he'd have to steel himself to step into the Lodge. Memories of his mother were sure to blindside him on occasion, especially now that he was back on the ranch she'd loved.

He wondered how she would have felt about the son who caused her death owning the Lodge she'd created.

“I haven't gone inside, but the outside of the Lodge and Mom's studio seem just as solid as the rest of the buildings,” Cade said. “Hopefully the interior is fine.”

Zach twisted the key in the ignition and shifted the pickup into gear. “We'll soon find out.”

They left the ranch yard, following the gravel road past the big barn. Just beyond Mariah's cabin the road curved to follow the creek to the Lodge, a half mile away.

Joseph Coulter had built the Lodge based on his wife's love of the steep-peaked, log skiing lodges where
they often vacationed in the mountains near Yellowstone Park. The Coulter Lodge's two-story structure was built of heavy, massive logs, but the deep slant of the metal roof—its once dark red faded now to rose—combined with lots of window glass, always managed to give the solid, substantial building a graceful air. The porches that edged the front and three sides beneath the shelter of the roof's overhang were still welcoming despite the boards nailed over the big windows and doors, sealing them shut.

Zach parked, and he and Cade left the truck, climbing the shallow, wide steps to the porch and the front door.

“These boards look new,” Zach commented as he and Cade used hammers and crowbars to pry them loose.

“J.T. and I replaced them not too long ago,” Cade told him as Zach ripped the last board free and laid it atop a stack behind them. “Somebody attempted to break in, probably kids.”

“Huh.” Zach pulled the key ring from his pocket. Much to his surprise, the key slid easily into the lock and after a moment of careful jiggling, turned with a grating squeal. He pushed the door inward and stepped inside, halting abruptly just over the threshold.

Cade joined him, his low whistle echoing in the big lobby.

Sunlight slanted through the open door behind them, throwing a bar of gold across the dust-covered floor. The rest of the lobby was swathed in gloom. Zach could just make out the wagon-wheel chandeliers suspended from the high ceiling at each end of the long room. They appeared to be draped in cobwebs, and
what he remembered as iron sconces set at intervals along the walls were only gray shapes beneath more spiderwebs.

The room was eerily silent, the air heavy and still with a musty scent. Zach wondered if this was what archeologists felt when they opened a long-sealed tomb.

He flipped the light switch next to the door frame but as he expected, the power was off.

“Let's get the boards off the windows,” he told Cade. “We need more light.”

The two headed back outside, leaving the door open, and worked their way around the porch, prying off the two-by-fours and plywood covering the big windows, stacking the lumber in piles as they went.

When at last they finished and returned to enter the lobby, sunlight flooded the big room.

The last time Zach had been here, the lobby had been alive with light, bustling with a throng of partygoers attending a celebration for his parents' wedding anniversary. Now, the burgundy leather sofas and chairs, the gleam of polished wooden floors with deep red and cream wool carpets and the subtle sheen of wax on log walls—all were dulled beneath layers of dust.

As he and Cade walked farther into the lobby, he noticed the undeniable leavings of mice.

“Looks like something bigger than mice have been in here,” Cade commented, pointing at protruding stuffing visible at the corners of sofa cushions and littering the floor beneath.

“I hope it's not rats,” Zach told him. “I hate rats.”

“Might have been raccoons. They can do a lot of damage.”

Zach nudged the shredded corner of the dirt-dulled oriental carpet. “Whatever it was, they were destructive.”

Cade nodded and walked toward the fireplace at the end of the room. Zach followed, assessing the damage along the way.

“Looks like the fireplace is still standing,” Cade commented.

“Yeah. Who knows if it's still functional.” Zach bent to lean into the shoulder-high hearth and peer up the chimney. “I guess we won't know until we get up on the roof and check it.” He turned, hands on hips, his gaze following the wall to the reception desk. “I'll be damned,” he said, stunned. “Mom's mustang sculpture is still here.”

Cade followed as Zach strode back down the long room to halt in front of the curved wooden oak counter that served guests at registration. On the wall behind, beneath a layer of dirt, tarnish and cobwebs, hung a four-foot-tall, six-foot-wide sculpture. Melanie Coulter had used her favorite Kiger mare as a model for the lead of four horses in full gallop. Even with the bright metals dark with dirt and tarnish, the mustangs seemed to dominate the wall, threatening to leap down and thunder across the lobby floor to freedom.

“I always thought this was one of the best things Mom ever did,” Cade said quietly.

Zach nodded silently. He remembered the days after his mother's funeral, when his father had ridden out early one morning, leading his mother's mare. Joseph Coulter had returned hours later without the mustang.
Zach had always assumed his father had shot the horse, but his father refused to explain.

He knew his father blamed him for his mother's death.

Hell, he thought, he blamed himself for her death. All four boys had been playing in the creek, using a thick rope tied to an overhanging tree limb to swing out over the water. Zach remembered well how he'd teased his mother, daring her to join them.

He'd never forgotten the terror he'd felt when the rope snapped, nor the awful, sickening sound of her head as it hit the nearly submerged rock at the water's edge.

Even now, the sound was clear in his head, and his chest felt caught in a vise.

Zach shook off the memory of that day, forcing himself to concentrate on the present. He'd been eleven years old when his mother died. As he turned in a slow circle, inspecting the interior of the Lodge, he realized it had been at least twenty-two years since anyone had set foot inside the lobby.

“It looks like hell.” He shook his head and glanced at Cade. “But given how long it's been closed, we're probably lucky it's only this bad.”

Cade nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping the ceiling. “Yeah, I admit I'm surprised it doesn't seem worse.” He pointed at a stain on the ceiling in the back corner. “Maybe we spoke too soon. Looks like there might be some water damage.”

Zach frowned. “That's not good.” He started toward the stairs. “Let's check out the second floor.”

The upper story with its eight guest rooms and three suites had multiple problems, chief of which was damage
from several leaks in the roof over the years. Ceilings had fallen in several of the rooms, and mattresses had molded. Many of the furnishings were ruined, and evidence of mice having taken over the building was everywhere.

Two hours later, they locked the double doors of the main entrance and left the Lodge to drive back to the ranchhouse.

“It's a hell of a mess,” Cade commented as they parked in front of the house and headed inside.

“Yeah, it is that,” Zach agreed as he followed his brother down the hall to the empty kitchen.

They found the carafe filled with fresh coffee and a note from Mariah telling Cade she'd gone to town.

“The building's structurally sound,” Zach continued when they sat at the table. “But if we want to restore and reopen the Lodge to guests, it's going to take a lot of work.”

“And a lot of money,” Cade added drily.

Zach shrugged. “That goes without saying. But then, in my experience, those two usually go hand in hand.”

“So you're thinking of renovating the Lodge and reopening it?” Cade asked, lifting his mug to drink.

“I have to crunch the numbers first, but…yeah, I think so,” Zach answered slowly. “Over the years I've run into old friends of Mom and Dad's who used to stay at the Lodge. They all told me how much they loved coming to the Triple C and how sorry they were to hear about Mom's accident.” He sipped his coffee, thinking about those conversations before continuing. “And every time, each one told me to let them know if the Lodge ever reopened because they'd be the first to reserve a room.”
His eyes narrowed in thought. “I wonder if the old guest register is still in the office.”

“If we could find it, you'd have a list of people to contact and maybe the rooms would all be booked before the Lodge opened again.”

“Maybe,” Zach agreed. “I don't know how long it would take to gut the building and renovate it.” He took his cell phone from his pocket. “I need to make a few calls. First to Angela to see if she's had any luck looking for Eli and Brodie. Then I'll call my boss and let him know what's going on.”

“Think he'll give you a leave of absence, or will you have to quit?” Cade asked.

Zach shrugged. “I freelance, and my contract doesn't have a set number of hours. He's used to me going off the standby list every now and then so I doubt he'll give me any trouble. Besides—” he flashed a smile “—we've known each other a long time. I don't expect any trouble.”

“Good. What about financing?”

“I'll get a business loan, probably.”

“You could sell Mom's mustang sculpture.” Cade's deep voice was quiet. “All of her work has skyrocketed in value over the last twenty years. The sale price of the piece might be enough to cover the renovations.”