Courtship, Montana Style. Charlotte Maclay

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СКАЧАТЬ why simply moving into an apartment of her own wouldn’t do, although she could easily afford to live on her own because of the trust fund her grandmother had left her. She needed to be far away from her family. And Vernon. In an entirely different state where she’d avoid any chance they’d find her, confront her, and she’d bow to their will once again.

      In her heart, she knew starting a new life was the best thing she could do for her daughter.

      Reading down the page, her gaze landed on a quote in bold type from Walker Oakes, the rancher in question. “We’re pretty self-sufficient here on the ranch, but with this many teenage boys it would sure be nice to have a housekeeper.”

      A housekeeper.

      That wasn’t such a hard job. Not that Elizabeth had any experience to qualify her for that kind of employment. But how difficult could it be to dust and vacuum and put a load of wash on? Surely a college graduate who spoke Italian, German and French with some fluency could handle the job with a minimum of effort.

      With a mental stiffening of her spine, she glanced one more time at the article, folded the magazine and tucked it beside Suzanne in the car seat. That’s where she and her baby would go, to Montana, as unlikely a place as she could imagine. No one in her world would come looking for her there, certainly not on a remote ranch where she’d be an anonymous housekeeper.

      If that other bride had found the courage to walk out on her wedding day, Elizabeth could drum up enough spunk to leave now before it was too late—and escape the confrontations she so dreaded.

      For Suzanne’s sake, she could do it because she couldn’t imagine raising her child in a household where her father ignored her.

      As her own father had been indifferent to her.

      The only remaining problem was to avoid leaving a trail that would lead Vernon or her family to her secret hideaway in Montana before she reached her decisions. To make her admittedly impetuous scheme work, she’d have to be resourceful—and lucky.

      She’d also have to lie convincingly, another talent she lacked. For the sake of Suzanne’s future, she’d damn well learn! This was no time to let her well-developed conscience get the upper hand.

      This cowboy’s ranch was going to be a refuge for both her and her baby. Meanwhile, she’d pretend to be someone she wasn’t—a strong, determined woman who could handle a dust mop as well as the next woman. If her acting was good enough, maybe she’d actually become that confident person.

      A half hour later, with her wedding gown in the trunk of her BMW and Suzanne still dozing comfortably in her car seat, Elizabeth drove to her bank to make a substantial withdrawal. Later she’d call her mother to assure her that she was safe—and ask her to cancel the wedding. Speaking to her on the phone would be much easier than in person.

      Worst case, she could hang up and turn off her cell phone.

      STEPPING UP ONTO THE BACK porch of his ranch house, Walker Oakes slapped his Stetson against his thigh and stomped his boots. Dust billowed up like a miniature tornado.

      By June the rangeland in this part of northern Montana should have been boot deep with nutritious grass for his cattle to graze. Instead a cold, dry winter had led into an even dryer spring, stunting the grass, leaving barely enough for the prairie dogs to nibble on. The lightest breeze stirred up a dust devil. Riding herd on his cattle meant eating dirt from dawn to dusk.

      Muttering a curse under his breath, he went into the house and hooked his hat on a peg in the mudroom.

      The well-equipped kitchen was huge with a table big enough to seat a dozen people when stretched to its limit. This time of year it only had to handle five: himself, the three boys currently in his foster care and Speed Pendrix, his foreman, the slowest talking, slowest moving man north or south of the Missouri River. A man Walker Oakes would trust with his life, and had more than once.

      Walker needed to know the going price for beef cattle so he headed for his office to check online. Unless they got rain and got it damn soon, he was going to have to cull his herd, getting rid of cows that hadn’t produced a calf this spring. He might even have to sell off some of the yearlings at half the price he’d be able to get after a summer’s grazing fattened them up. Sometimes to save a ranch a man had to walk a tight-rope, making tough decisions.

      As he walked through the living room with its big rock fireplace and heavy, overstuffed furniture, he heard a car approaching the ranch house. He glanced outside as it stopped in front.

      Most of his Grass Valley neighbors came to visit via the back door. None that he could think of drove a fancy silver-blue BMW that looked near new. Like him, pickups were more their style.

      Curious, he opened the door, shoved open the screen and stepped outside into the warmth of late afternoon.

      The young woman who exited the BMW was a sweet little filly with flaxen hair she had pulled into some kind of a twist at the back of her head. So slender a good wind would blow her over, he wondered if, like his cows, she wasn’t getting enough feed lately. Still, she moved with the grace of a dancer and was a mighty pretty sight after riding herd all day on cows and all night on adolescent boys filled with a combination of rebellion and hormones they didn’t know how to tame. And the way she filled out a pair of city slicker blue jeans was something to write home about.

      He stepped off the porch at the same time Bandit, a black-and-white mostly Border collie rounded the corner and took up a position beside him, tail wagging watchfully.

      “Can I help you, miss?” Walker asked. No doubt he’d have to direct her where she had intended to be, which surely wasn’t at the Double O Ranch.

      Standing in full sunlight, the stranger shaded her eyes with her hand. “I’m looking for Walker Oakes.”

      That was a surprise. She wasn’t lost after all, though she didn’t look like she belonged anywhere more Western than a dude ranch. “You found him.”

      “Oh, good. I’m, uh, Lizzie Thomas. I’m here about the job.”

      Job? He hired extra hands during roundup and hay-harvest time, but none that looked like this woman.

      He walked toward the stranger so he wouldn’t have to yell—and so he could get a better look at her. Dutifully Bandit remained at his heel.

      As he drew closer, Walker decided his visitor was worth more than a second look. She had the face of a Greek goddess with high cheekbones, slightly pouty lips and a complexion no rancher’s wife could ever achieve, however many gallons of skin cream she applied.

      “Sorry. You must have the wrong place. I’m not hiring right now.” Not extra cowhands or a woman with pure, unadulterated sex appeal.

      “Unless you’ve already filled the position…” Turning, she opened the BMW’s back door. A moment later, she produced a baby’s car seat—

      Walker’s eyes widened.

      —with the baby included.

      “I’d like to apply to be your housekeeper.”

      “Housekeep—?” He choked, feeling as off balance as though someone had slipped him a rogue bronc when he wasn’t looking. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

      Bandit СКАЧАТЬ