Her Man On Three Rivers Ranch. Stella Bagwell
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Название: Her Man On Three Rivers Ranch
Автор: Stella Bagwell
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Эротическая литература
Серия: Men of the West
isbn: 9781474077491
isbn:
Was he serious? Her gaze roamed his face as she tried to figure out the motive behind his invitation. Was he simply being polite? She couldn’t think of any other reason.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose on your family.”
He frowned. “Don’t be silly. They’d all be glad to see you. But if you’d rather, we could go somewhere else for dinner.”
Totally bemused now, she looked around her, then back at him. “Are you asking me for a date, Blake?”
Her question caused his square jaw to turn a shade darker. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Why? Is there anything wrong in that?”
Only that she was the daughter of one of the town’s worst drunks. It didn’t matter that Avery Anderson was dead and gone now. That didn’t change the fact of Katherine’s upbringing.
Stuttering, she tried to give him a reasonable answer. “Uh, well, it’s just that I—Dating is something I don’t do. I mean, not very often.”
“Then you need to let me change that.”
Her heart was suddenly tripping over itself. Blake Hollister wanted to take her on a date! If such a thing had happened twelve years ago, she would’ve fallen over in a dead faint. And she was darned close to it now.
“I don’t—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “You’ve already said you don’t date very often. Well, I don’t, either. So that puts us on equal footing.”
If possible, her heart leaped into an even faster gait. “I suppose I could think about it,” she hedged. “And you could give me a call.”
“Great!” He dropped her hand and pulled a smartphone from his pocket. “Give me your number. Or are you in the book?”
“No landline.” She gave him the number. “That’s my cell. And I can’t answer during working hours.”
“Don’t worry,” he said with a grin. “I’ll call at a respectable time. And soon.”
Completely flustered now, she tugged the strap of her handbag higher onto her shoulder. “I really have to run, Blake. Goodbye.”
Stepping around him, she practically ran into the bank building. But as soon as she reached the lobby, she paused and looked through the darkened plateglass wall overlooking the street.
Blake’s tall, commanding figure was sauntering toward a black pickup truck covered with gray dust. As she watched him climb into the vehicle, then back it into the street, she decided she didn’t have anything to worry about. Blake would never call her. In fact, before the day was over, she’d bet he would delete her number from his phone and forget all about her.
And that was the way she wanted it, she thought as she continued through the lobby and straight to the nearest teller. She wasn’t about to let Blake Hollister, or any man, start filling her head or her heart with romantic dreams.
No. She had more important things to do. Like raising her son. And trying to forget that she was responsible for her husband’s death.
“What are we doing here, Joe?” Blake asked cynically as he and his younger brother trudged through a narrow gulch filled with rocks and sage. “I mean, we come out here every couple of weeks and poke around like a pair of old prospectors looking for gold. And we have about as much chance of finding anything as those dream chasers did a hundred and fifty years ago.”
“We’re not looking for gold, Blake,” Joseph bluntly reminded him. “We’re looking for some sort of clue to solve our father’s death.”
“Just because Holt found our dad’s spur rowel here in this same gulch back in February, doesn’t mean we’ll find anything else,” Blake reasoned. “Besides, I’ve been thinking. Dad could have already been hanging from the stirrup when Major Bob galloped through this gulch and the rowel was raked off by a rock or bush. Whatever caused him to lose his seat in the saddle could’ve happened a long way from here.”
“That’s true,” Joseph replied. “But I don’t think so. I think he met someone here in the gulch or at the well pump. It’s only about twenty yards from here.”
Joseph had worked as a deputy sheriff for Yavapai County for more than ten years and his mind operated in a different way than Blake’s.
Straightening away from the gravel bed where he’d been searching, Blake tugged his straw cowboy hat lower over his forehead. Midafternoon in Arizona was usually hot at this time of year and today was no exception. Even with his eyes shaded by a pair of dark aviator glasses and the brim of his cowboy hat, the brightness of the sun caused him to squint as he looked across the rocky slope to where his brother stood.
“It’s been five years, Joe. Maybe it’s time we gave up.”
Joseph stared at him for a long, awkward moment, then walked over to him. “I can’t believe you’re saying that. What the hell is wrong with you? Everybody knows Major Bob didn’t spook or buck. You could set off a firecracker under that horse and he’d just stand there with a sleepy look on his face. You and I both know someone killed Dad and tried to make it look like an accident.”
“Yeah,” Blake mumbled. “But after all these years, Joe, how can we ever find enough evidence for the law to make an arrest?”
“We found the rowel. We know Dad was here on this part of the ranch even though he’d told the ranch hands that day he’d be riding a good five miles west of the ranch house. If we can find the reason why he wound up here instead, we’ll figure things out.” Joseph reached for Blake’s shoulder and gave it an encouraging shake. “Come on, brother. You’ve always stuck with me on this. Don’t start losing faith now.”
Blake tried to smile—something he admittedly didn’t do very often. It wasn’t that he was a grouch or a negative person. It was just that smiling and laughing felt awkward to him. His family often called him the judge. They didn’t understand that ever since Joel had died, the heavy weight of running this seven-hundred-thousand-acre ranch had landed squarely on his shoulders. Not only did the family’s financial security depend on Three Rivers’s solvency, but there was also the family legacy to continue. Hollisters of past generations had first built Three Rivers back in 1847. It was Blake’s job to see the ranch remained sound well into the next generation. With that kind of responsibility, he didn’t have much urge to laugh or smile.
“I’m not losing faith, Joe. I only wish some sort of definite clue would turn up. And I—” He paused, his gaze scanning the rocky terrain dotted with thorny chaparral, chollas and the occasional mesquite tree. “When I look around this place, I start imagining Dad and what he must have gone through that day. I wonder if he was fighting for his life. Or did someone ambush him from behind and he never knew what hit him? The questions stab me right in the heart.”
“I feel the same way, Blake. Everyone in the family wonders about those things. Especially Mom.”
Blake released a heavy breath. “She rarely mentions Dad’s death. She only talks about СКАЧАТЬ