The Ranch Solution. Julianna Morris

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      LATER THAT AFTERNOON Mariah and Luke Branson rode in the direction the wranglers had taken the O’Donnells. She routinely checked on visitors to be sure the greenhorns were doing okay, and today the newest greenhorns were Jacob and Caitlin...not that Jacob O’Donnell would enjoy being described that way.

      Her horse tossed his head, playfully testing her control of the bit. Shadow loved to run, the wind racing by, his hooves thundering across the land.

      “You’re a live wire, aren’t you, boy?”

      He whinnied and leaped a step. His black coat gleamed warm in the sunlight and his ears were pricked forward, alert to every sound.

      “I swear that animal is your best friend. I come in a poor second,” Luke complained good-naturedly.

      “He’s my best horse friend,” she agreed. She’d raised Shadow from the day he was born, right after her mom and dad’s accident. It had helped get her through those bleak, grief-filled days. “But you’re my best people friend.”

      “So is Reid still saying he doesn’t want to go to college?” Luke asked with a pleased grin.

      “More or less.”

      “Maybe he’s worried how you’ll pay for it.”

      “Could be. It’s tight, but we’re doing better. The debts are paid and I’m putting money aside. We should be able to swing the expense.”

      “That’s great.” His mount sidestepped skittishly. “Stop it, Ghost, or I’ll turn you into dog food,” he warned the gray-and-white piebald.

      Ghost snorted in disbelief.

      “I could talk to Reid,” Luke offered. “He might open up for me—man-to-man, that sort of thing. Or at least as his future brother-in-law.”

      “Thanks, but I’ve pushed enough. He’s got finals soon and they have to come first.”

      “It’s your call. Are those the greenhorns you’re checking on?” Luke gestured to the south, down a sloping hill.

      “Looks like them.”

      Mariah bent over Shadow’s neck and watched the group in the distance. Though she’d still dressed in black that morning, Caitlin had forgone the silver-studded shirt and purple accents in her hair. Other than those small changes, she’d remained pure defiance. The anxious daughter from the predawn morning was nowhere to be found a few hours later. She’d mouthed off to the cowhands, told the cooks they were serving heart attacks on a plate and shown up an hour late to the corral. She wouldn’t say where she’d been, but Burt had calmly informed her that if it happened again she’d either sit her rear end in the tent for the day or spend it shoveling out the horse stalls.

      Burt was always calm. It made him a terrific wrangler for kids. Things that might give anyone else a stroke made him yawn. She wished she could say the same thing about herself. Having Jacob imply she was lying about the injuries on the ranch had infuriated her. There had been a boy who’d broken his arm the prior year...but he’d fallen in Buckeye when his parents stopped to buy postcards on their way to the airport.

      Luke controlled another sideways jump from his horse. “This O’Donnell fellow sounds like a real piece of work. I’ve never heard you gripe so much about a guest.”

      “He rubs me wrong.”

      “That’s interesting.”

      She gave Luke a sharp glance. “There’s nothing interesting about it. He’s difficult, that’s all. He actually advised me that my parents should speak to Reid about being friendlier to guests. What nerve. He thinks the world revolves around him and his money. It isn’t that I don’t care what his daughter is going through, but he has to deal with it, not just throw his checkbook at the problem. On top of that, he said our facilities are primitive. Since when are hot showers and commercial-grade restrooms primitive? If he wanted a resort on the Riviera, he should have gone to the Riviera.”

      “Okay, okay,” Luke placated. “I’m not the enemy. I’m on your side. Let’s go meet this difficult guest.”

      Mariah brushed Shadow’s flanks with her heels and they cantered toward the others. As they got closer she could see that Jacob O’Donnell and the wranglers were working with a cow—its calf bawling in loud, unhappy tones—while a white-faced Caitlin remained in the saddle, some distance away. Mariah swung to the ground, her focus narrowing. The mother cow had a nasty cut running down her rear haunch. She was in pain, and that would make her more unpredictable than usual.

      “It’s not too bad, Baby Girl.” Burt cursed amiably as he received a kick in the stomach. “But that gentle touch of yours will come in handy, Mariah.”

      Her mouth curved. At rare moments he still called her Baby Girl, the way he’d done when she was four years old and would sneak into the barn to be with a favorite horse.

      “Hey, Burt,” Luke greeted the cowhand.

      “Howdy. Sorry to mess up your old-fashioned courtin’ with old-fashioned work.”

      Luke chuckled, the cowhands sniggered, and Mariah could have belted all three of them. Luke wasn’t courting her. They had an understanding; you didn’t have to court somebody you were already going to marry.

      The noise from the frightened calf was increasing the mother’s agitation, so Mariah nudged it into her sight. “Don’t fuss, silly, nobody is hurting your baby.”

      Both animals quieted.

      “I have the first-aid kit,” Jacob said when she looked up. He lifted the canvas pack that was a standard piece of equipment on the U-2.

      Mariah took the kit. “Thank you. Stay with Caitlin, and we’ll take it from here.” They couldn’t let guests be involved in this kind of situation. It was funny, though. Jacob didn’t seem bothered that he might get injured himself at the ranch, just that his daughter be kept safe.

      He stuck out his chin. “What about that guy?” he asked as Luke rolled up his sleeves.

      “That ‘guy’ is our neighbor and an old hand at doctoring livestock. Luke Branson, meet Jacob O’Donnell.”

      The two men gave each other measuring looks, testosterone zinging through the air, and she sighed in disgust. Men were men, regardless of where they’d grown up. She’d have to intervene before they started chest bumping or doing something equally stupid to prove their masculinity.

      She cleared her throat. “Mr. O’Donnell, your job here is to reassure your daughter.”

      “It’s Jacob, and I’m going to help. Kittie is fine. I told her to stay well back on her horse.”

      “She’s the color of old paste and needs her father more than we need you getting in our way. You’re just delaying treatment for this cow by arguing with me.”

      “That’s right,” Luke added, and Mariah dug her elbow into his rib cage. Did he think she couldn’t cope with Jacob O’Donnell on her own? She did not need his assistance; he would simply make it worse. He ought to have figured out by now that the Westons took care of their own troubles.

      “Please...Jacob,” СКАЧАТЬ