Chapter Two

      Tyler Hunt, whistling a tune that was stuck in his head, looked up from unloading bags of grain when he heard the approach of a vehicle. An airport shuttle van rambled down the road, carrying, no doubt, either a Boston attorney named Red Sanders or a doctor by the name of Rob Marquis. Everyone else had already arrived.

      The Hunt ranch was a working operation covering thousands of acres of land. Anyone who signed up for the biyearly cattle drive had to be willing to work because what went on here was the real deal. Cows and their calves had to be herded from the winter pastures in the basin up to the high mountain pastures for summer grazing; greenhorns and pros worked together to make it happen.

      The shuttle stopped in the big parking area and a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache and brand-new buckskin chaps climbed out of the back. Hard to tell which he was, a doctor or a lawyer. As the driver retrieved his suitcase, the man looked around with a big grin on his ruddy face. Tyler smiled; enthusiasm always boded well.

      A slam of the door up at the house announced Tyler’s mother, Rose Hunt, had also witnessed the arrival and taken time from stocking the chuck wagon to play hostess. A tiny dynamo of a woman who Tyler knew was as tough as the earth she tended, twice as strong as she looked and four times as softhearted, she walked out to the van with a little less enthusiasm than usual, exchanged pleasantries with the driver and picked up the newcomer’s suitcase as the van took off back toward town.

      Tyler heard the name Sanders float across the yard—the guy in the chaps had to be the lawyer—as John Smyth, another guest who had arrived earlier in the day, came out of the house. He took the suitcase from Tyler’s mother, who seemed reluctant to release it. As Smyth turned to the lawyer, Rose took off toward the house. It apparently didn’t occur to Red to tote his own bag. Couldn’t help but wonder how a guy like that was going to handle herding cattle without someone holding his hand, but you never knew.

      Smyth was a strapping, tall man in his late thirties with dark eyes, a quick wit and helpful disposition. He’d been here only a few hours, but Tyler had spotted him everywhere, talking to everyone, listening with the kind of concentration that encouraged people to open up. He seemed particularly interested in the workings of the ranch and appeared to be a natural when it came to riding and roping.

      Tyler kept at the grain, whistling as he worked. There were a good dozen sacks left to unload and tote inside the barn. Rose would make the lawyer feel at home, serve him up something cold to drink, introduce him to the others, get him started with orientation. Then later Tyler would make a grand entrance and give a little pep talk.

      Another vehicle caught his attention. This one was familiar, too, as it was the farrier’s big white rig. Tyler had been expecting him for hours and was relieved he’d made it. One of the horses they used to pull the chuck wagon had thrown a shoe the day before, so Lenny had had to make an unscheduled visit three weeks earlier than usual. Tyler threw a sack down on top of the others and jumped out of the truck.

      At six foot two inches and muscled from thirty-four years of ranch life, Tyler was a formidable man in his own right, but the farrier always made him feel like a dwarf. What everyone who met Lenny soon recognized, however, was that he had the disposition of a sweet kid. The horses loved him.

      The truck stopped close by and Lenny launched his six-foot-six-inch, 250-pound frame from the cab. “Sorry I’m late,” he bellowed in a deep voice that lived up to the packaging. “Got tied up over at Hidden Hollow. So, you’re having trouble with Ned?”

      Tyler explained about the thrown shoe.

      “I’ll get started on him. The rest of your string isn’t due for reshoeing for almost a month. Long as I’m here, you want me to check ’em out? I’m not due at the Blister Ranch till tomorrow morning.”

      “Sure,” Tyler said, taking off his hat and wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “You’re welcome to spend the night. We can offer you a bed and a decent dinner.”

      “No need. You know me, I’m like a turtle, carry my little home on my back.” With this he gestured at the dusty camper on the rear of his truck. Tyler wasn’t altogether sure Lenny could stand up straight in the thing. Behind the truck he pulled a big trailer that he called his office. It was filled with supplies and equipment as Lenny went from ranch to ranch on a six-week cycle keeping the horses’ hooves in top condition.

      “Suit yourself,” Tyler said, pulling his hat back on his head. “Tell me if you need anything.”

      “I’ll just get started and, you know, let you two talk,” Lenny said, his voice lower.

      Tyler’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Let who talk?”

      Lenny looked back at his truck and made a little motion with his fingers. The passenger door squeaked open. The glare on the windshield had obscured the fact that Lenny had a passenger.

      “I ran across her in town,” Lenny said under his breath. “Because I was coming out here anyway—well, I’ll just go see about Ned.” He made a point of walking toward the horse barn without looking back.

      Tyler’s jaw literally dropped as a woman appeared.

      Julie?

      For what felt like a month, they just stared at each other, he frozen to the ground, she half in and half out of the truck. He took in her sheath of glossy black hair, her deep brown eyes, the elegant features of her face. A year had passed since he’d last seen her, but right that second, it seemed like a lifetime or maybe even someone else’s lifetime.

      “What do you want?” he finally managed to say in a voice he didn’t even recognize. It was hard to sound normal when there was a knife twisting in his heart.

      That unfroze her. “Well, hello to you, too.” She slammed the truck door and leaned back against it, arms held across her chest, chin up.

      She’d always been on the tall, slender side, but she was really thin now, too much so. She was also beat up on her face and what he could see of her arms, like she’d been in a fight. There was something else—a furtive look, a jumpiness he’d never witnessed in her before.

      Had she left him to get tangled up with some kind of vicious jerk? That was the exciting new life she’d dreamed about? The wonderful world of domestic abuse?

      “I need to talk to you,” she said with a defiant tone to her voice. Or maybe it wasn’t defiance. Maybe it was nerves.

      “I know I haven’t signed the divorce papers,” he told her. “I will, though. Been busy.”

      “It’s not about that.”

      He turned his back on her and returned to his truck. With one leap he was in the bed again, hefting sacks of grain, moving faster now, fired up with nerves.

      She followed him and then stopped. Standing a few feet away, she murmured, “It wasn’t easy coming back here, you know.”

      “Then why did you?”

      It took her a moment to answer and when she did, her voice shook. “Tyler, I’ve messed everything up.”

      He glanced at her, hoping the look in his eyes communicated the fact that he thought she was an expert at messing things up and he wasn’t interested in it anymore. When she started