Excerpt from CIRCLE STAR
The boy sprawled over the dusty gravel slope, propped up on one elbow. As he shifted his weight, power rippled along his arm and the muscles that broadened his chest. He glanced at the girl a few paces away, wondering if she’d noticed the changes in his body – the strength – the deepening of voice – the stubble on his upper lip.
She sat very still, her chin resting on her drawn-up knees. Her eyes carried a dreamy look, but they were locked on the rushing water of the river that flowed swiftly after the spring floods.
The boy’s brows drew together. She wasn’t even looking at him. He’d never figured out if she truly ignored him, or just pretended to.
He allowed his gaze a furtive roam. The girl’s body was changing, too. A soft curve had swelled on her bosom, and her hips had flared out, so that the denim workman’s pants she wore around the ranch stretched taut over her buttocks.
On Sundays, her father allowed the boy to join them for dinner at the big house. He’d seen the girl in a form-fitting dress, her hair in an upsweep, instead of the single heavy braid that hung down her back. It had given him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, just like looking at her did now.
A few days ago, her father had said something to him about leaving the bunkhouse, where he slept with the other ranch hands, and moving into the small room by the kitchen. It was used for storage now, but it could be cleared out for him. Since Mrs. Talbot had left Circle Star to live back in
The boy’s frown deepened. He didn’t understand how married folks could live with half the continent between them. It was 1883, and people were free to do what they wanted. Why didn’t they just plain divorce, if they could no longer bear to be in the same place? His own folks had lived together, and died together, leaving him to fend for himself at eleven, with nothing but a horse, a saddle, a Winchester rifle, and a pair of Colt revolvers to his name.
For two long years he’d drifted, sleeping rough, scraping a meal anyhow he could.
Then Mr. Talbot had caught him living in a line shack on the eastern corner of Circle Star. Instead of an earful of curses and a kick up his backside, the boy had been given a job. He worked hard. He knew he earned his keep. The toughest part was the newspapers and books Mr. Talbot made him read in the evenings, and quizzed him about in the mornings, to make sure he hadn’t skipped pages.
He didn’t care, though. For the boy, living on Circle Star was as though he’d died and gone to heaven.
He shifted again, his frustration rising as the girl’s eyes stayed stubbornly on the whirling water. She always appeared when he was least expecting it. She’d suddenly be there, leaning against the side of the corral as he worked to break a wild mustang. Reeking with sweat, caked in dirt from the battle with the horse, he’d keep his distance. Or, she would lazily stroll over when he fished by the river, and silently sit down, just like she was doing now.
The only time she saw him properly was at Sunday dinner. Then he wore clean clothes and slicked his unruly sandy hair down with water. He still remembered how he’d blushed the first time he’d walked into the cool dining room, and had felt her eyes linger on him.
“One day, I’m going to have a ranch of my own,” he declared to her now, as much to break the silence as to inform her of the fact.
“And how would you achieve that?” she murmured, still not looking at him.
“I don’t know.” He already regretted the bold statement. “I’ll find a way.” He knew the words rang hollow, but deep down he believed them. One day he would.
“I’m going to own Circle Star,” the girl said. “I’m going inherit it when my father dies.”
“A woman can’t run a ranch.”
“I will,” she told him flatly. “Just wait and see.”
He glanced up. She was no longer hugging her knees, but had turned towards him. The way she leaned over, one hand propped along the ground, made her breasts jut against the shirtwaist blouse. She challenged him with a defiant look. He’d noticed the color of her eyes the first time he’d spoken to her, a clear sage green with a dark rim around the iris. From that moment on, every time he heard the name Circle Star, he remembered those eyes.
“If I married you, I’d own Circle Star.” The boy froze in horror as he heard his words. They seemed to come out of nowhere. It wasn’t something he was planning to do, and even if he did, he certainly wouldn’t announce his intention out loud.
“What makes you think I’d agree to marry you?” The girl leaned closer. Her eyes narrowed, in anger or against the sun, he couldn’t tell which. A ripple of wind teased the dark tendrils that had broken loose from her braid.
A sudden flame of desire burst through him. The emotion had festered inside him for two years while he’d watched her turn from a gangly child into a slim girl, at the same time as he matured from a boy into a man. “This,” he said hoarsely, reaching out for her.
The nape of her neck felt soft under his fingers as he slipped a hand under her braid and pulled her close. Her arm skittered along the ground. She toppled into him, her breasts flattening against the hard muscles on his chest, and he anchored her on top of him with a fierce hold. His mouth crushed against hers, stifling her cry of surprise.
He’d known hunger and thirst, but they meant nothing compared to the yearning now soaring inside him. His loins went hard with a fury that matched the surge of blood through his veins. His heartbeat drummed in his ears, while his lips feasted on her flesh.
It took a few moments before his senses stilled enough for him to pull back a little, and pay proper attention to the girl. She lay on top of him, her legs tangled with his. Her panting breath brushed a damp lick of heat along his cheek. “This,” he repeated softly into her ear.
She stirred, her body tensing against his. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around her. She had been clinging to his shoulders, but now her hands pushed instead, and her motion grew into a struggle. “Let me go,” she told him, her voice a husky whisper.
“No,” he said. “Never.” And he meant it. He’d marry her. She would be his, and so would Circle Star, although the ranch didn’t really matter, not when he held the girl’s warm and pulsing body against his.
“Let me go,” she said again, anger sharpening her voice.
“Why?” he demanded. “Don’t you like being kissed?”
She twisted out of his grasp, and he chose to let her go. As she struggled up, her braid dragged down and scraped across his burning mouth. “My mother says ranch hands are not for me,” she warned him primly. “I’m going away to school, and I’m going to be a lady.”
“A lady?” He frowned at her. “A lot of good that will do when running a ranch.”
He could see hesitation pass like a cloud over her face. Wanting to press his advantage, he leapt up and reached for her again. He settled his hands on her hips and pulled her close, the hardness in his groin straining against her soft mound. Of its own volition, one of his calloused hands crept up and curled over a breast.
A fiery blush covered her cheeks when she felt his touch and realized what he was doing. “Let me go,” she rasped. When he didn’t, she lashed out at him, flailing with both hands.
Startled, he released her. She lowered her arms and glared at him, her breasts rising and falling with urgent gasps of breath. A battle between fear and shame and excitement raged in the green eyes widened into dark pools. He wanted to say he was sorry, to explain he hadn’t meant to offend or frighten her. Just as he was about to speak, she whirled around and fled up the riverbank.
“I’m going to tell my father,” she yelled over her shoulder as she raced away from him. “I’m going tell him what you did, and he’ll throw you off Circle Star.”
“No he won’t,” he shouted after her, although she was already out of sight. “He won’t,” the boy muttered to himself, standing rooted, his lungs heaving, his hands knotted into fists.
But he probably would, if she told him. Mr. Talbot was a hot tempered man, and a stickler for family values. It was out of respect for his benefactor that the boy declined to join the other riders when they trooped into the whorehouse on trips to
He dragged the toe of his boot on the gravel ground, listening to the noise it made. He might just as well pack up for the day. He needed something more than fishing to push the gnawing worry out of his mind. There was a new stallion Mr. Talbot had bought from a breeder in
* * * *
The boy soothed the quivering horse, gentling his hands over a flank. He murmured soft words, without stopping to consider their meaning. He should have been like that with the girl. Cosseted and calmed her, instead of just letting his lust and need loose on her. He wanted to find her, but he didn’t know how to go about it. He’d never been inside the big house uninvited, although he knew where her room was. He’d spent enough restless nights gazing up at her window, until the lamp fluttered out, and the window turned into a forbidding dark square.
Tomorrow he would know. It was Sunday, his day to join the girl and her father for dinner. If she’d told, the storm would have raged by then. Of that, he could be certain. If he got invited as usual, she hadn’t told.
Behind him, someone called his name. The boy whirled around. Pete Jackson, the foreman of Circle Star, was striding up. A small wiry man with legs bowed from a lifetime in the saddle, he made haste across the sun-baked yard. “The boss wants to see you,” the foreman grunted. “In the library. I’ll take the horse.” He scaled the fence into the corral and eased closer, until he could reach for the reins.
“Did he say why?” Fear clutched at the boy’s insides as he thought how he’d betrayed the trust that had been put in him.
The foreman reached up to the bridle, moving with caution, preoccupied with the horse, which had grown restless again. Prancing and whinnying, the stallion shied away from both of them. “No,” he said, distracted by the task of soothing the animal. “The girl was with him. All he said was that he wants to talk to you. He seemed about to explode. You know how he gets when he’s mad about something.”
The boy asked no more questions. Rushing the fence, he flung himself over the top and hurried back to the stables.
The saddle resting on the beam by the entrance was his, as was the bay gelding he rode each day. Mr. Talbot had agreed to sell the horse to him, taking a dollar out of his weekly pay. He expected a balance was left owing, but that didn’t matter too much. He was no horse thief, but he could accept remaining in debt to a man who had volunteered a loan. One day he would pay back every cent, with interest.
Quick and silent, he saddled the bay and walked out to the yard, where he left the horse tied in the shade of the cottonwood tree while he slunk over to the bunkhouse. His bed was at the far end, on the left by the window. Sunlight filtered in, exposing the dust dancing in the air, and the dirt caked on the floor.
He fastened his gun belt, checking that the two Colt Peacemakers rested secure in their holsters. For riding, he preferred not to tie the leather thongs around his thighs. The scabbard for the
He didn’t have room for everything in his saddlebags. After a brief reflection, he left the suit behind, folded into a bundle under the bedclothes. That way, it wouldn’t get dirty on the floor, or alert anyone too soon to his escape.
The books he took with him. The prospect of no longer having them suddenly made reading appear a pleasant pastime, rather than the chore he’d regarded it up to now. Draping the saddlebags over his arm, he strode to the door and swept his gaze over the yard. No movement broke the quiet. Saturday was the day for the men to ride out to
The boy strolled out, putting on a casual show, in case someone was watching. The gelding greeted him with a soft nickering sound, butting its head against his shoulder as he walked up. He took a few seconds to croon to the animal. Then, with an economical motion, he vaulted into the saddle and was on his way.
Where to, he didn’t know.
As the house grew distant behind him, he wondered if he should have stayed, tried to weather it out. With a defeated shrug of his shoulders, he dismissed the thought. This way was better. He could hold on to the good memories, without letting them be ruined by a furious dismissal from the man he worshipped, or by hearing the girl spell out her complaints.
There was nothing for him at Circle Star. He’d forget Susanna Talbot, just as he was sure she’d forget him. Gritting his teeth, Connor McGregor urged the gelding into a canter and leaned low over the neck of the horse, feeling the hot
Chapter One
Susanna Talbot shifted her buttocks on the hard seat of the buggy, trying to find a way to soften the battering against her rear. A wry smile twisted her lips as she recalled the words of her best friend Claire. “Of course you get sore from riding,” Claire had blurted out. “You have such a bony ass.” Then Claire had grinned her infectious grin, and both girls had ridden on, stifling their mirth, delighted in the knowledge that their mothers would be scandalized if they overheard the exchange.
But now Claire was far away, and so was
Circle Star.
Susanna closed her eyes and let her mind transport her back in time. She could hear the noises, the thundering hooves of the cattle, the whinnying of the horses. The cry of a lonely coyote at night. And inside the house, the clanking of boot heels against tile in the hall, the booming voice of her father.
Her father.
A groan escaped from her throat. Quickly, Susanna opened her eyes and glanced at the driver, but fortunately he appeared not to have heard. She blinked back a tear. Her heart ached at how she’d drifted apart from her father, never once visiting, and now with his sudden death the chance to make amends was lost forever. With a resolute frown, Susanna tightened her mouth.
Grief would find a time and place, and that wasn’t now.
If she wanted to make a success of her plan to run Circle Star, she couldn’t afford to show weakness. The men had to perceive her as a competent businesswoman. The fact that at twenty-six she was already considered a spinster ought to help. Susanna hoped the advantage of her age wouldn’t be outweighed by her slim build, and a feminine face with full lips that trembled when she was upset.
She would just have to toughen up.
The buggy rattled along the dirt road that ran arrow-straight through the fields of towering cacti. Susanna tugged a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and tied it over her mouth. A layer of dust already covered her elegant clothes, and she could feel grit scraping in her teeth. Despite the discomfort, she was glad that Pete Jackson, the foreman of Circle Star, had sent the open buggy for her. Her eyes darted over the landscape, drinking in the magic of the barren land she realized she’d never stopped missing.
She recalled those last terrible days with her father, before she’d left for school.
“Don’t go,” he father said. “Your life’s here at Circle Star.”
“I must go,” she insisted. “Mother says I need to go, so that I can be a lady.”
They ended up arguing over it, scowling at each other across the big desk in the library, her father’s infamous temper barely restrained. Then, with a sudden change of mood, he announced he had something important to discuss. “I’m putting Connor McGregor in my will,” he informed her. “He’ll share Circle Star with you.”
The words hit like a fist in her gut, making her breath catch and her heart hammer. Earlier that day Connor had grabbed her and kissed her by the river, and even now, thirteen years later, she could still remember her violent reaction to his touch. She’d been kissed since then, several times, but none of those kisses had rocked her the same way.
That was why none of those other kisses had ever led to marriage, much to her mother’s disappointment.
Thirteen years ago, her father had summoned Pete Jackson to fetch Connor, so that he could explain his intentions to the boy. Only Connor couldn’t be found. The foreman swore he’d passed on the message. Instead of coming into the library as instructed, Connor had packed his meager belongings and ridden off Circle Star.
Her father had been puzzled, then worried, and finally distraught. “Something’s happened to the boy,” he had declared, his face dark with concern. “He’d never just leave like that.”
But Susanna knew.
I’ll tell my father, and he’ll throw you off Circle Star. She’d screamed those words, and Connor had believed her. She had caused his flight. It had never been her intention to tell her father. And then she’d been too afraid to explain that Connor had run off because of something she’d said. Her father would have blamed her.
And, if truth be told, she’d been jealous. Her father fussed over Connor as though the boy was some long-lost son. Just because she was a girl, Susanna was pushed into the background. Part of her was glad when Connor disappeared. Now she would be important to her father again, and she wouldn’t have to share Circle Star when her father died.
But she didn’t become important to her father again. She was away at school. Her father wrote to her, but as often as not his letters would be about his efforts to track down Connor and find out what had happened to him. He never did manage to trace the boy, and Susanna never confessed to her part in Connor’s disappearance.
Then it became clear that her mother wouldn’t return from
She had always belonged at Circle Star.
* * * *
Two hours later, Susanna sat in the oak paneled library to receive the hastily summoned lawyer. She recognized Mr. Catterill, who’d dealt with her father, although it surprised her to discover the man was still alive. He’d appeared ancient when she was a child. Now he merely appeared old. Everything was relative, Susanna accepted with a quiet sigh.
“Thank you for coming out to Circle Star.” She rose from behind the massive mahogany desk and offered her hand.
“It’s the least I could do. I knew you’d be tired after the long journey.” The lawyer briefly clasped her fingers. “My condolences.”
Susanna nodded. “I don’t really know what happened. I understand it was sudden.”
“A seizure. Your father always worked too hard. They were enlarging a well at the north ridge. The heat and the physical strain defeated him.”
Susanna could almost see him, a giant of a man, wielding a shovel, grunting with effort, unwilling to accept the limitations of his body. “That’s the way he would have liked to go,” she said softly.
“But not quite yet,” Mr. Catterill suggested with arching brows.
Despite her anguish, Susanna felt the corners of her mouth curve up. “Thank you for saying that. I’m trying not to wallow in grief.”
“You’re entitled to some grieving.”
“But not to as much as I would if I had lived here with him.”
The lawyer cleared his throat, and it wasn’t lost on Susanna that he said nothing to contradict her. She had expected such reactions. People saw her as a stranger now, someone who chose to leave Circle Star all those years ago. She would have to work hard to be accepted again, but that didn’t worry her. She had plenty of determination mixed with her soft nature.
Sitting down, Susanna gestured at the chair in front of the desk. “I’d like to get on with it. Please don’t think I’m hasty in wanting to find out the facts. I simply think I’ll manage better if I keep my thoughts occupied.”
The lawyer settled opposite her and propped his briefcase on the floor by his feet. Leaning down, he extracted a few sheets of paper. “It’s very simple,” he said as he straightened. “Except for a few small legacies, you are the sole beneficiary in your father’s will.”
Susanna released the breath she’d been holding. “Is it a new will?”
Mr. Catterill contemplated her before he spoke. It was a peculiar look, one that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. “No, it’s not,” the lawyer said. “It’s an old will, made just before you left Circle Star.”
“But ….” Susanna stopped and pressed her lips together, then forced her expression to relax. “Please, carry on.”
“You will inherit Circle Star, on the condition that you marry Connor McGregor. If you don’t marry him, the ranch will be sold and the proceeds put in trust for you and any children you may have.”
“What?” Her heart started to pound with such ferocity it seemed to be trying to break out of her chest.
“Unless you marry Connor McGregor, Circle Star must be sold.”
“I understood that. But … he hasn’t been heard from in years. He could be dead. He could already be married to someone else.”
The lawyer shrugged. “When your father made the will, Connor McGregor was living on Circle Star. When circumstances changed, your father never got around to making a new will.”
“He should have,” Susanna cried out. Then she realized how callous her words must have sounded. She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I mean, it’s totally impractical ….” Her voice drifted away.
“I kept reminding him, but he thought there was plenty of time.”
“He never really stopped hoping, did he?” Susanna fixed her eyes on Mr. Catterill, knowing her lips were about to start trembling. “He always thought that one day Connor would come back, and then the sun would shine again.” Her hands twisted apart and clenched into fists. “Well, he didn’t come back. I could have been here, but I was only a girl, which just wasn’t good enough.”
“Miss Talbot.” The lawyer’s voice turned cool. “You father insisted on this clause for your own protection.”
“My protection?!”
“Yes. It’s a hard country. Too often, the law fails to do its job. Your father felt it would be unsafe for a single woman to operate a ranch. If you weren’t married, he wished for Circle Star to be sold.”
Susanna glared at the lawyer across the table. “He also wished to pick out a husband.”
Mr. Catterill shrugged again, and the gesture conveyed no apology. “He felt Connor McGregor was the right man to offer you that protection.”
Susanna stood up so suddenly her chair screeched against the plank floor. Her skirts and petticoats flapped against her legs as she paced the room. “What do we do now?”
“You have three months to find Connor McGregor and marry him. After that, Circle Star will be sold in a public auction to the highest bidder.”
She halted, facing the lawyer. “Until then, I can stay?”
“You can stay, but you cannot dispose of any assets that belong to the ranch.”
Susanna thanked him and bid him good-bye. When the door closed behind the lawyer, she sank in the seat and buried her face in her hands.
For thirteen years, she’d struggled to forget Connor McGregor, knowing he’d hate her now, that he’d never forgive her for being cast out of Circle Star. How could her father do this to her? How could he force her to open ancient wounds?
She had to remain strong. Finally she was back where she belonged, and she’d find a way to stay. Susanna stared ahead, determination stamped on her face as she reviewed the possibilities in her mind.
* * * *
Sitting behind the big mahogany desk in the library, Susanna doodled on a notepad. Her first task was to go through the books and understand her financial situation. Her father had considered accounting a suitable task for a girl, allowing her to help when he paid the bills. With a careful hand, she had noted down the amounts in the big leather-bound ledgers. It was a long time ago, but she remembered, and she knew what to look for.
She turned to the last completed page and inspected the totals at the end of each column. The ranch prospered. It would give her a good living, if she was able to stay. She had liquid funds, too, enough for what she needed to achieve in the next three months.
Idly leafing back the pages, she scanned entries in the neat columns and studied the explanations on the left. Her brow furrowed, and her finger traced across a line, just to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake. With a sinking feeling, she examined page after page.
It was no mistake. Susanna leaned back in the leather chair and lowered her hands into her lap, expelling a long sigh.
Her father had supported their life in
There was no choice. She had to find a way to hold on to the ranch and the income it generated. If the ranch was sold and the money placed into trust as stipulated in her father’s will, she doubted the interest from the trust would be enough to support her and her mother.
Susanna fisted her hands in her lap. A moment later, with a slap of the pen against the pad, she got up and left the room. She would unpack while she devised a plan. Doing something practical would soothe her nerves and make her mind more agile.
Gathering her skirts, she scaled the stairs. The house was none too clean. She had discovered the reason when she interrogated Carmen, the sturdy woman around forty who had welcomed her at the door with Pete Jackson when she arrived in the buggy earlier that day.
The housekeeper who had followed her mother from
Carmen seemed both willing and capable, but she had her hands full with feeding thirty hungry men. Cleaning took second place. Susanna entered her father’s bedroom and lifted the cover on the big canopied bed. Musty air billowed at her. She crossed the landing into her old room and found her two trunks already hauled up. She strode to the bedside and repeated her inspection. This time the smell was fresh, with a hint of something floral. She made a note in her mind to thank Carmen later.
Kneeling on the ground next to the trunks, Susanna twisted the locks open. A frown lined her face as she surveyed the contents. A few books and ornaments rested on top. The rest of the space brimmed with toilet articles and clothing.
Fine gowns in silk and velvet, which she now knew had been bought with money sent by her father. Her mother had never told her how much their comfortable lifestyle depended on his generosity. Susanna had always assumed her mother possessed some wealth of her own, and over the years she’d never expressed gratitude to her father. How could she have? She hadn’t known she was receiving gifts from him, since her mother had hidden the truth from her.
It hurt to know that even as an adult she’d been used in the tug-of-war between her parents.
Her mouth tightened. Who was she going to be from now on? The Susanna Talbot who grew up on Circle Star? Or the Susanna Talbot who went to
The thought of
Still chuckling softly, Susanna scrambled to her feet and rushed to the rosewood armoire in the corner of the room. Inside, she found her old shirtwaist blouses and the rough denim pants she used to wear around the ranch before she went off to boarding school. She kicked off her slippers and bent to tug on the pants beneath her hems. They still fit, although a little tight around the hips. She hurried to shed her skirt and layers of petticoats and her embroidered blouse. The old shirtwaist blouse fit, too, although with the same tightness over the bust as the pants displayed over the buttocks.
All the more for them to ogle at, Susanna thought with unaccustomed ferocity. Then, before her courage failed, she ran to her father’s room and picked up his gun belt from the bedside table. It was too long, but if she took off one of the holsters and wore the belt high up, fastening it in the furthest notch, she could wrap it twice around her waist. She’d see a shoemaker in
Last, she picked up one of her father’s guns and checked it. It was loaded. She thumbed back the hammer, finding it a little stiff. Susanna raised her arm. “Boom,” she whispered, looking down the barrel, taking aim at the oil lamp on the wall.
With a smile of satisfaction, Susanna brought the hammer down to secure the weapon. She rotated the belt around her waist, until the remaining holster lay positioned over her right hip. She gingerly slipped the Smith and Wesson inside and took a few small steps to test its weight.
Connor had worn Colts. It pleased her to know she had something different. As soon as she could, she’d ride out to the desert to practice. Her father had taught her well, and since shooting at a target was intuitive, she had no doubt her skills remained.
Her steps thudding softly over the floorboards, she returned to her room and searched in the armoire, until she found the snakeskin boots which had been a gift from her father on her thirteenth birthday. Carefully, she tried them on. Thank heavens they didn’t pinch. She kicked her feet into the boots, and stomped noisily down the stairs.
She’d been right. The practical chores had soothed her mind and helped her to analyze the problem. There was a solution, an easy one, provided she could find someone trustworthy to help her.
“Where’s Pete Jackson?” she called out to Carmen, who was up to her elbows in flour in the kitchen.
“Seńor Jackson is at the stable,” Carmen replied, twisting the dough with strong hands. Then she raised her gaze. “Madre mia,” she breathed. A trace of flour streaked her ample bosom as she skimmed a hasty sign of the cross.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Susanna offered Carmen a broad smile, lifting her arms and performing a slow turn.
Carmen shook her head and babbled away in Spanish.
“Slower,” Susanna ordered. “It’s a long time since I last spoke Spanish.”
She listened carefully as Carmen repeated.
“No,” she replied in the end. “I won’t get arrested, but I have a good mind to cause a riot. See you later.” She spun with a neat pirouette over her heels, deciding the dance lessons at boarding school had been some use after all. Then she stalked out through the door and went looking for Pete Jackson.
She found two ranch hands loitering in the stable yard. “Howdy,” Susanna said, and realized she’d forgotten about a hat.
The burly men stared at her. She stifled her laughter, thinking she could toss a silver dollar into their open mouths. “I’m Susanna Talbot,” she said, just to make sure they understood. “I’m your new boss.”
“Howdy, Miss Talbot,” said the taller man, the first one to recover. The shorter man echoed him a second later.
Before she had time to ask for Pete Jackson, the foreman strode out of the stables. “Miss Susanna?” he blurted out, blinking in the bright sunlight, his wiry body stiffening as he hesitated over how to react.
“I need to talk to you,” Susanna told him. “Are you free now?”
“Sure.” Pete nodded at her, pausing to give instructions to the two ranch hands. “That’s quite an outfit,” he commented as he caught up alongside her.
“Do you disapprove?” Susanna gave him a sidelong glance. Their relationship had once been close, but that was a long time ago, and in different circumstances. She wondered if the mutual trust remained.
“Practical,” Pete said, but he couldn’t hide the sly look, or the amusement in his gruff voice.
A smile tugged at her mouth. “Is that all you have to say?”
Pete’s narrow face cracked into a grin. “You gonna ride into town in that getup?”
“That’s the plan.”
“A bloody riot,” he said. “Them pants is tight to bursting.”
Heat flared into her cheeks. “That’s not intentional. I’ll get a bigger pair in
“And the point is?”
“The point is that I mean business,” Susanna said firmly. “And you can’t wear a gun belt with a dress.”
Pete shook his head. “You father will turn in his grave.”
“The exercise will do him good.”
She’d forgotten how Pete laughed, throwing his head back and making a wheezing sound, like a hyena. Susanna averted her face to wipe away a tear.
God, it felt so good to be home.
In the library, she made a show of propping her boots on the desk, crossed at the ankles, just like her father used to do. “Pete, how would you like to own Circle Star?”
“Eh?”
“Don’t play dumb – you must know about my father’s will?”
Pete’s expression grew cautious. “As much as I’d like to marry you, Miss Susanna, I’m not Connor McGregor.”
Susanna grimaced at him. “So my father did tell you about the condition in his will?”
The foreman replied with an uncomfortable shrug. “It’s no good out here for a woman alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have you.” Susanna pulled her feet off the table and leaned forward. “Connor’s gone. He’s been gone for thirteen years. We won’t find him. Circle Star is going to be sold in a public auction. I want you to bid for it.”
Pete cast her a puzzled frown. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
“That’s just it,” Susanna explained, her words tumbling out. “You don’t need to. I’ll lend you the money. The same money that I get from selling the ranch.” She gestured, moving her hands between them. “You bid for the ranch. The money would come to me as payment to purchase the ranch. I’ll give that same money back to you as a loan. The whole transaction is on paper, although I’ll need to find enough cash to pay the administrative costs. There’ll be auctioneer’s fees and such.”
Pete rubbed his nose, still looking puzzled, so Susanna pulled out a notepad and took him through it slowly, drawing a diagram to show how the money would change hands on paper but not in reality.
“You sure are smart,” Pete said. “Making all that money out of nothing.”
“Pete,” she scolded him. “It’s not money out of nothing. It’s the value of the ranch. You’ll be the legal owner, but you’ll owe back to me what the ranch is worth.”
The foreman shook his head. “Why don’t you just sell out and go back to
Susanna dropped her gaze to the notepad in front of her. “I should never have left. I always missed the ranch and my father. Now he’s dead, and there’s nothing I can do to show my love for him, apart from protecting Circle Star. Protecting his legacy.” She raised her eyes and gave Pete a solemn look. She had decided not to tell anyone she also needed the ranch to provide for her mother from the income it generated. It would weaken her position if people knew.
“What about your mother?” Pete asked. “You’ll miss her.”
“I’m a grown woman of twenty-six,” Susanna said, her tone firm. “It’s time I had my own life. It’s not easy back East either, getting to my age and being unmarried. The ranch will give me a position in the community, a purpose in life. In
Pete gave a hesitant nod. “All right. I’ll bid for you. What happens then? Will you buy the ranch back from me?”
Susanna dragged the pen along the page. “Might be better not to. As you said, it’s not easy for a woman alone. We could keep Circle Star in your name until you die, and then you could leave it to me in your will. Maybe by then, times will have changed.”
Pete chuckled. “Or you might have found yourself a husband.”
The pen rustled against the paper as Susanna gripped it hard. “Don’t count on that.”
After Pete was gone, Susanna remained at the desk, staring at diagram on the pad in front of her. She’d expected Pete would understand, but he didn’t, no more than her mother had understood all those times when Susanna had refused to marry one of the men who’d proposed to her.
She had never wanted to marry anyone other than Connor, but he had ridden into the desert thirteen years ago, full of hate for her.