Montana Hearts. Charlotte Carter
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needed that energy today to work off the adrenaline and distress that flooded her veins and her heart.
She’d walked past buildings constructed in the early 1900s with the brick facades and actual hitching posts left over from an earlier era, making the town look like a set from an old Western movie. Kurt Ryder, with his long legs and masculine swagger, fit like a well-cast actor in this setting.
He still fit into the scene now that horses had been replaced by battered pickups with large dogs standing guard in the beds of the trucks or tied up to the fenders.
He wasn’t going to hire her as a housekeeper. She’d seen rejection in his golden-brown eyes and the surprised arch of his brows.
Probably for the best, she thought as she had stood staring off into space, trying to quell her sense of failure. Admittedly, she wasn’t the greatest housekeeper in the world. Or cook, for that matter.
She never should have told him she had planned to stay around for a couple of days. He wasn’t going to call. She’d been foolish to even consider coming here.
There was no reason for her to stay.
No way for her to help the family who had lost so much.
On a weekday afternoon, no one seemed in a rush in Sweet Grass Valley. Traffic through town was light. The lush scent of sage and grass on surrounding open rangeland drifted on the air along with the smell of hay stacked in the backs of passing trucks.
Zoe Ryder had walked down this sidewalk, past the bakery, dress shop, grocery store and the one-screen movie theater across the way, probably greeting the proprietors by their first names. She’d been a part of this community in a way that Sarah had never been a part of Seattle.
Did the people miss her? Had Zoe left a hole in their lives as she had in those who had loved her?
It felt strange to envy someone who was dead. But Sarah did, at some cavernous level she hadn’t realized existed in her soul.
Please, Lord, help those who loved Zoe and miss her to find peace within Your loving embrace.
Sarah had seen a decent-looking motel about twenty miles back in Shelby, on the highway the way she’d come. She’d stay there tonight and then head home to Seattle tomorrow.
As she got into her car, her cell phone rang.
She froze, momentarily paralyzed. It could be her friend who was waiting on the results of her CPA exam and handling Sarah’s accounting business while she was out of town. A simple business question she could answer.
Or it could be…
With a shaking hand, Sarah flipped open the phone. She didn’t recognize the number.
Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry. “Sarah Barkley,” she answered.
“Ms. Barkley, this is Kurt Ryder. If you’re still interested in the housekeeper job, I’d like to talk to you.”
“Yes…” Her voice caught. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, I’m still interested.”
“Good. I think it would be best if you came here, to the ranch. Then you’d know what you’re getting into.”
That sounded a bit ominous, as though she’d agreed to work for the local ax murderer. “I can come there.”
She propped the phone against her shoulder and searched for a notepad and pen in her purse while he gave her directions to the ranch.
When he finished, she closed the phone and took a deep breath. Her insides quivered with a combination of excitement and trepidation. Second thoughts assailed her like the bugs that had spattered her windshield on the highway.
This is what she wanted. This is why she had come to Sweet Grass Valley. To help those who had given so much.
As instructed, she took Second Street north out of town. Residences on modest lots quickly gave way to open prairie. Scattered clusters of cattle grazed on rolling hillsides and horses stood head-to-tail in pairs beneath shade trees, switching flies with their tails. A gentle breeze rippled the fields of tall grass like waves on a summer-green ocean.
Soon she spotted her destination. She turned off the road to drive under the arched entrance of the Rocking R Ranch. In the distance, a two-story house appeared through the rising waves of heat. Several outbuildings were also visible including a large red barn and a corral. The Rocking R appeared to be a profitable enterprise.
In front of the house, a white gazebo sat in the middle of a lawn surrounded by flower beds that had been left untended for some length of time. Weeds had invaded the plots where rosebushes and irises had gone scraggly. Sarah suspected Zoe had kept her garden a showpiece. Since her death, the family had let the beauty wither away.
A porch with two wicker rocking chairs and a cedar porch swing stretched the width of the house on the western side. She imagined sitting there at the end of a day, drinking iced tea and watching the sun set behind the distant mountains.
A black-and-white dog wandered out of the barn and barked at her.
As soon as Sarah came to a stop, the front door of the house opened. Kurt waited for her on the porch, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, his legs wide apart. The cuffs of his blue work shirt were rolled to his elbows, revealing muscular arms lightly covered in dusky hair.
The dog had kept track of her as far as the corner of the house, where he stood guard.
“Thanks for coming,” Kurt said as she reached the porch steps.
“You have an amazing place here. How much of this land do you own?”
“About all you can see plus a little bit more.” She sensed he wasn’t bragging. He was simply stating a fact.
Sarah’s small cottage on a city lot didn’t bear comparison.
“Come on in. Beth’s fixing some iced tea. I wanted you to meet my kids.”
He held the screen door open for her. As she passed him, she suddenly realized how tall Kurt was. He stood well over six feet. At five foot four, she barely came up to his chin.
She stepped inside and caught the faint scent of lemony furniture polish.
The Western decor was immediately obvious, maple furniture with floral print upholstery. A large fireplace made of river rocks bisected one wall, a variety of riding trophies displayed on the oak mantel. The opposite wall contained family photographs, grandparents and probably great-grandparents in old black-and-white shots, the history of the Rocking R Ranch down through the decades. In the center of the collage stood Kurt and his beautiful blonde bride, Zoe.
With a lump in her throat, Sarah quickly looked away. Guilt burrowed like a garden gopher into her midsection, as though she were responsible for stealing Zoe’s life. Not just exercising her heart.
Sarah struggled to regain her composure.
Kurt introduced his son, Toby.
She extended her hand to the boy, the resemblance to his father striking. “I guess some of those trophies are yours.”
“Yep.” Dressed like his father in jeans and a work shirt, he shook her hand firmly. “Calf roping for ten and under.”
“Congratulations.” She felt overdressed wearing slacks and a fussy cotton blouse when the uniform of the day seemed to favor jeans.
“Have a seat, Ms. Barkley.” When she sat down on the chintz-covered couch, Kurt said, “How is it you happen to be in Sweet Grass Valley?”
“I’m on vacation, taking some time off to see the countryside.” She wondered what he would say if she told him the truth. How she had ferreted out the death of his wife. And why.
Sitting in the adjacent armchair, Kurt appeared to consider her answer. “Did you lose you job or quit?”
She smiled, realizing he thought she was an employee of her company.