Courtship In Granite Ridge

For the past ten years, since he’d left his hometown, the Gazette had followed him across the country: Oklahoma, New Mexico, Washington and now back to Texas. The only time he hadn’t received the paper was during his stint in Venezuela. The rig he’d been working on there had been too remote to receive mail with any dependability, so he’d let it lapse those months, then immediately started it up again when he’d returned to the States. Whether for some morbid kind of punishment—a reminder of all the things he could never have, that he never did have—simple curiosity or just plain habit, he didn’t know or care.

Thankful that Digger was busy harassing Pete Walker for his lack of attendance at the last town meeting, Slater scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes and turned his attention back to the front page of his paper. The top stories of the past week were Mary Lou Hebbit’s—assisted by her husband, Bobby Joe Hebbit—giving birth to twin girls in the flatbed of a hay truck, and the Hackett brothers’ assigned twenty hours’ community service for being drunk and disorderly.

Slater seemed to recall a few nights that he’d spent with Bobby and Billy Hackett himself. The brothers had played in the bars as hard as they’d worked on their daddy’s farm, but always showed up for church on Sundays and were the first to volunteer for the town’s annual Ladies’ Auxiliary carnival and auction. If anyone needed to “git himself a woman,” Slater thought with a smile, it was definitely those boys.

He skimmed the city council and agriculture reports, then paused at the wedding section, which had one entry: Millie Johnson and Todd Overby were engaged and getting married in two weeks. Millie and Todd? Slater shook his head as he took a sip of coffee. They’d practically been babies when he’d left. How could they be old enough to get married?

With a sigh, he moved on to the obituaries, thankful at least, that column was empty. He took another sip of coffee and started to fold the paper when the bottom of the last page, an assortment of classified ads and personals, caught his attention.

Wanted: One Husband. Not too old. Must like kids. List good qualities. Call Kasey at the Double D Ranch—555-4832 or send picture to 684 Marva Lane, Granite Ridge, TX.

He nearly choked. Coffee sloshed over the sides of his cup as he slammed it down.

Kasey...as in Kasey Donovan?

He shook off the coffee he’d spilled onto his paper and looked at the ad again. Good God! He had read it right. It was Kasey.

Kasey Donovan had been his sister Jeanie’s best friend since they’d been six. They’d been inseparable. Kasey, with her wild red hair, vibrant green eyes and a ready-to-take-on-the-world attitude, had been a sharp contrast to Jeanie’s silky blond hair, pale blue eyes and quiet acceptance of whatever life dealt her. Which, Slater thought with a tightening in his gut, had been one lousy hand after another. She’d learned young that life wasn’t fair. They both had.

He missed her. God, how he missed her.

He let the pain roll through him, then shook it off and stared at the newspaper again. Kasey Donovan. With her bright laugh and enthusiasm for life, she emerged from a dark past like a rainbow after the storm.

He’d lost track of her after he’d left Granite Ridge, though he had read that after she’d graduated high school she’d married some hotshot journalist and moved to New York. Obviously if she was looking for a husband, that hadn’t worked out. Then four years later her mother had died after a long illness, six months after that, her father from a heart attack. Slater had been in Venezuela at the time and hadn’t heard until he’d gotten back to the States. By the time he’d called, the phone had been disconnected.

The Donovans had been like some kind of a TV family. Always there for each other, loving...accepting. Mrs. Donovan had been the mother Jeanie had lost when she was two, and, Slater recalled with a smile, Mr. and Mrs. Donovan had both treated him as a son, too. Kasey’s mother would always insist he stay for dinner every time he came to pick up Jeanie, then afterward Mr. Donovan would discuss the latest issue of Rancher’s Digest over a cup of strong black coffee, asking Slater his opinion or advice on horse breeding.

Something Slater’s own father had never done.

The Donovans had been Slater’s only regret when he’d left Granite Ridge. His only regret even still.

And now Kasey was advertising for a husband?

He shook his head at the thought. Kasey. His little Kasey. He’d taught her how to ride a bike, helped her with her science homework. At fifteen she’d been all arms and legs and a mouthful of braces. At seventeen, when he’d left, she’d emerged a young woman with curves that had every male drooling and every female turning a lovely shade of green.

And now, here he was, ten years later.

And here was Kasey.

Obviously she was in a serious situation if she was advertising for a husband. But whatever her problem might be, there had to be another solution than marrying a stranger.

“Slater!” Digger’s loud exclamation from the other side of the diner brought Slater’s head up. “Jack Slater, from the Bar S. That was that big rancher’s name.”

Slater’s back stiffened at the name he hadn’t said in ten years.

Coffeepot in hand, Digger moved beside the booth and refilled Slater’s cup. “Hey, he must be a kin of yours. Brother, maybe? Cousin?”

Digger had a hold of the bone now, and Slater knew the old man wouldn’t let go. So let him have it What difference did it make?

“Father,” Slater said evenly, and took a sip of coffee.

“No kidding.” Digger whistled. “And all this time we thought you had no family.”

I don’t, Slater thought. Not with Jack Slater, anyway.

Ignoring Digger’s rattling on about fathers and sons, Slater stared at Kasey’s ad again. Jeanie’s death had been as hard on Kasey as it had him. He’d walked out on her ten years ago and let her down. He had an opportunity to make up for that now.

Right or wrong, mistake or not, he was going back. Even if it meant he’d have to see Jack Slater again.

Something very strange was going on.

It wasn’t just the stares she’d gotten at the market in town, Kasey thought as she pulled her pickup off the main road and headed down the gravel drive that led to her house. There’d been sidelong glances and raised eyebrows, too. And Kasey would swear that June Bindermeyer had actually snickered when she’d bagged the groceries.

Very strange.

What could have happened in the two weeks she and her sons had been gone? She’d taken the last of the boys’ summer vacation and gone to Dallas to look for a broodmare, the first of what she hoped would eventually be a full stable of quarter horses. She’d looked at a dozen mares in the first three days and had finally settled on a beautiful sorrel from the Circle Q named Miss Lucy. The animal was more than Kasey could afford, but one look and she was lost. She’d bought her and made arrangements for her to be delivered in a few days, then immediately placed an ad for a stud in several papers, including the Granite Ridge Gazette.

But placing an ad for a stud was no reason for anyone to look at her oddly, Kasey thought with a frown. This was horse country. Still, at the post office when she’d picked up the bag with her mail and papers, disapproval had been plainly etched on Mildred Macklin’s face. And was it Kasey’s imagination, or had Mildred actually slammed her window shut when Steven, Mildred’s son, had come over to say hello?

Very, very strange.

Shaking her head, Kasey shut off the engine and looked down at her sleeping sons. Cody, her eight-year-old, and Troy, almost seven, were slumped into each other, making it hard to tell where Cody’s thick, dark hair stopped and Troy’s wavy auburn hair started. It had been a long, busy two weeks for them. After the horse business was taken care of, they’d gone to the amusement park in Arlington, the rodeo in Dallas and the water park outside of Fort Worth.

It didn’t matter to her that she couldn’t afford it. Her sons deserved a family vacation, a real family vacation, not an assignment that their father dragged them along on, then left them all in a hotel while he went off to do his research.

Cody sat up abruptly, realizing the car had stopped. “Are we home?” he asked, blinking several times.

Home. They’d only moved here from New York two months ago, and the word home had never had a nicer sound. She smiled and combed her fingers through his hair. “We are.”

Cody realized at the moment that his younger brother was sleeping on him. “Get off me,” he said, shoving Troy away.

Troy rubbed at his eyes and yawned. “We home?”

“Mom,” Cody whined in disgust. “Troy drooled on me.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“You’re a moron.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too. Idiot, idiot.”

“That’s enough.” Kasey helped both boys out of the truck and sent them each a sharp look. Ah, yes, home, she thought with a sigh. Back to normal.