The Cowboy's Return. Susan Crosby

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      “I don’t know. I haven’t checked into it.” She sighed. “Two people tried to buy my entire property last year. I turned them down, obviously.”

      “Who were they?”

      “Cattle ranchers. Shep Morgan and … I forget the other guy’s first name, but his last is Ryder. You probably know them.”

      He shoved himself out of the chair and moved to the railing, his body stiff. “Did they pressure you?”

      “Nicely, but yes. I continued to say no. Nicely. They seem to be rivals who seem to be on the same page.”

      “In what way?”

      “They’re waiting for me to fail. One of Morgan’s sons pops in now and then, and asks if I need help with anything. Just being a good neighbor and all that. His name is Win. I see it for the ploy it is, since I discovered that the Morgans own the land surrounding mine.”

      Curious at how quiet Mitch was, she joined him at the railing so that she could see his face. “My ex, Rick, would’ve sold to them, but I bargained for keeping it as my part of the divorce settlement.”

      “Is this your only income?”

      She didn’t know why she was giving him so much personal information, except that he was easy to talk to. “Rick’s faithful with child support. How about you? Do you have any kids?”

      “No. I was married once when I was very young. It didn’t last long.” He eyed her. “Do you have a long-range business plan?”

      She laughed softly. “Long, short and everything in between.” She spent every evening on the internet searching out grant money, any way of making income that could help her hang on longer, until she could succeed on her own labors. She would have gone back to waiting tables in the evening to generate extra income, but she couldn’t leave Austin on his own, and paying a sitter would cancel out her earnings. “I love this place. I’ll do anything to keep it.”

      “There’s no sense driving yourself to an early grave over a piece of land, Annie.”

      “Spoken like a vagabond. Well, I’ve been a vagabond. Roots are so much better.” She shoved away from the railing. “I have work to do.”

      Annie went inside, her good mood having fizzled. What did he know about the need to own, to succeed? He didn’t have a child to support and raise right. Who was he to give such advice?

      Mitch hadn’t come in by the time Austin went to bed and she’d showered and retreated to her own room. It wasn’t even dark yet. She pulled down her shades, blocking the dusky sky. Usually she dropped off almost the instant her head hit the pillow.

      Tonight she listened for sounds of him, the stranger she was trusting to treat her and her son right. After a while, she heard him come in, then the click of the front door lock. A few minutes later the shower came on. She pictured him shampooing his hair, which curled down his neck a little, inviting fingers to twine it gently.

      Some time passed after the water turned off. Was he shaving? Yes. She could hear the tap of his razor against the sink edge. If they were a couple, he would be coming to bed clean and smooth-shaven….

      The bathroom door opened and closed, followed by his bedroom door. After that there was only the quiet of a country night, marked occasionally by an animal rustling beyond her open window. She’d finally stopped jumping at strange noises, had stopped getting up to look out her window, wondering what was there. She could identify most of the sounds now.

      And tonight she would sleep even better, knowing a strong man was next door. She could give up her fears for a while, get a solid night’s sleep and face the new day not alone, not putting on a show of being okay and in control for Austin.

      Now if she could just do something about her suddenly come-to-life libido, all would be right in her world.

       Chapter Three

      At five-thirty the next morning, Mitch climbed the porch stairs. He’d been up for a while, Bo joining him as he walked the property and made a list of what needed to be done, sorting through a personal dilemma at the same time.

      His father wanted Annie’s land. So did Shep Morgan. Morgan’s interest was understandable, since he owned the land surrounding her property. But his father? His only reason would be if he wanted to use it as leverage for a deal later. Mitch’s dad and Shep were both smart businessmen.

      Ever since the gold rush more than a century and a half ago, the Ryders and the Morgans had ranched these parts, were stewards of this majestic land. Over time, however, cycles of drought, pestilence and the Great Depression had forced both families to sell much of their land. In the past forty years they had been buying back property, reclaiming their heritage and rebuilding their dynasties.

      Theirs wasn’t a Hatfield-and-McCoy-style feud, but a fierce, relentless competition for domination of land and cattle holdings.

      And now they both wanted Annie’s land. If she knew Mitch was a Ryder, she would send him packing, maybe even decide he was part of a ploy to get her land for his family. He wasn’t ready to go home yet, but also she needed him—someone, anyway—to get her greenhouse operational, if she stood a chance at all to turn a profit.

      The irony didn’t escape Mitch. His father needed her to fail, and here Mitch was trying to help her succeed.

      Except he couldn’t see how she stood a chance of surviving another year financially.

      Mitch carried his empty coffee mug into the house for a refill and came upon Annie standing in the kitchen perfectly still, staring straight ahead.

      “Morning, Annie.”

      “You made coffee.”

      Crap. He’d screwed up. Maybe she kept coffee for a special occasion. Maybe the price was too—

      “Thank you,” she said. “This is going to sound maudlin, but no one’s done anything for me for so long.”

      Honestly, he’d made coffee because he wanted some and didn’t want to wait for her to get up. He didn’t know what to say so he poured himself another cup, avoiding conversation. After a few seconds, he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured one for her. “How do you take it?”

      “Black, thanks.”

      He finally looked at her face. She smiled. Her hair was freshly brushed, falling down her back in golden waves, reminding him of the Cinderella poster on his sister Jenny’s wall when she was a kid, the one of Cinderella scrubbing floors, her mice friends around her, which Jenny preferred to the ball scene with the prince.

      Annie leaned against the kitchen counter, the mug cupped in her hands. “You’re up early.”

      “Always. What time does Austin get out of bed?”

      “I let him sleep until six-thirty, more for my sake than his. I like a quiet start to the morning. Once he’s awake, it’s noisy. I generally fix breakfast around seven. If you’d like something to tide you over, toast or—”

      “Seven’s СКАЧАТЬ