Bachelor Father. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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      CHAPTER ONE

      Nine months later

      WHAT A CIRCUS. From the porch of the main house, Zeke surveyed the crowded grounds of the Lost Springs Ranch for Boys. In all the years he’d spent as a kid on this ranch, he’d never seen the place so packed with people. But that was the idea—to get folks involved in this bachelor auction Rex Trowbridge, an alumnus who was now on the board of directors, had cooked up to raise money for the ranch.

      Zeke longed to stay where he was, comforted by the familiar feel of the porch rail under his hand. But he had maybe five minutes before he had to walk out to the arena and climb up on the auction block where a gang of ranch alumni were gathering. The aroma of barbecued ribs filled the air, and fiddle music rose above the buzz from the crowd. Even CNN had shown up to film the action, so it looked like Rex would get the corporate sponsors the ranch needed to survive.

      And Zeke wanted the ranch to survive. Lost Springs was his safe place, the haven his mind returned to whenever he felt rootless and alone. His thumb on the porch rail brushed over a small, crude carving of a lone pine. When he was ten he’d used his pocketknife to cut his mark into the wood, fully expecting to get in trouble for it. But he’d wanted to put his stamp on the place so that years later he could come back and find proof that Zeke Lonetree had been here.

      He hadn’t been punished for carving the tree into the rail. Every time he’d returned to the ranch he’d checked that nobody had sanded it down—to reassure himself that some things in life stayed the same. The thought of Lost Springs closing was more horrible than the thought of taking part in this bachelor auction, so he’d agreed to be here. But Rex had no idea how much it was costing Zeke. Walking up on that platform would be like slicing off a chunk of his soul and offering it to the buzzards.

      A piercing whistle sounded above the hubbub, followed by shouted comments directed at Zeke from the auction block.

      “Yo, Lonetree!” called Shane Daniels, one of the alumni who’d become a champion bull rider and a close friend. “We ain’t got all day, son.”

      “Yeah, get your Native American butt out here!” yelled Chance Cartwright, who’d made good as a horse breeder and trainer. “All these women saw Last of the Mohicans and they want you bad.”

      Zeke groaned and wished he could treat this auction the way Shane and Chance did, as a big joke to be enjoyed. But both of them were used to being in crowds and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. In fact, most of the guys on the block had high-profile, public positions, while Zeke’s park ranger job in Yellowstone allowed him to spend most of his time the way he preferred—alone in the wilderness.

      “Move it, Lonetree.” Amos Pike, a toy manufacturer, motioned Zeke over to the platform.

      Zeke took a deep breath and reminded himself why he was doing this. A phone rang inside the ranch house, but unfortunately it wasn’t Zeke’s job to answer it. He couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. Shane had given him a new Stetson for luck. With a sigh he tugged it low over his eyes and started down the porch steps.

      “Zeke?”

      He turned.

      Rex, the guy responsible for his current misery, pushed open the screen door. He had a cordless phone in one hand with his thumb over the mouthpiece. “Come on in for a second,” Rex said.

      Zeke was delighted for any delay, but still he gestured halfheartedly toward the arena. “The guys want to get started.”

      “I know. We will in a minute. But it looks like you’re being pulled from the lineup.”

      Hope lightened the heaviness in Zeke’s chest as he followed Rex into the cool interior of the ranch house. “Pulled?”

      “Yeah. Let me finish my discussion with this lady, and then you can talk to her.”

      Zeke listened to Rex’s end of the conversation and figured out that someone was making a large donation in order to take Zeke off the block. He didn’t understand what was going on or why, but he wasn’t about to complain. He might still be obligated to a woman for a date of some kind, but at least he’d be spared the agony of walking the runway. He’d take it.

      “Okay,” Rex said to the person on the other end of the line. “That sounds great. I’ll let you work out those details with СКАЧАТЬ