Mountain Heiress

She knew almost nothing about him but suspected there were interesting stories about how the former rodeo star became the owner of a successful horse ranch. Now wasn’t the time to push for details, but she was curious.

When they pulled up in front of the house, she saw that Charlotte had been busy in her absence. She’d moved the suitcases and boxes from the back of Gabby’s car to the front porch of the house, and she’d gotten dressed. In her jeans and puffy vest with her long hair tied back and a navy blue Denver Broncos baseball cap on her head, she looked like a teenager—a teenage boy. When it came to clothing, Charlotte was definitely the “before” version—sorely in need of a makeover.

She tromped through the mud to Gabby’s side of the truck and yanked the door open. “I’m sorry.”

Gabby noticed the red splotch on the side of her face where she’d hit her with the pepper spray. “I’m sorry, too.”

When she climbed down from the cab of the truck, Gabby couldn’t help but notice Charlotte’s discomfort. The thin girl shifted her weight back and forth. Her eyes were downcast. Her arms folded around her middle, and her shoulders hunched as though she was expecting to be beaten. This behavior wasn’t the way to make friends. Gabby’s second lesson—after she showed Charlotte the wonders of moisturizing—would be on how to meet people without curling into a ball of nervousness.

“Come here.” Gabby pulled her close and gave her a hug. “I truly, deeply appreciate everything you did for my great-aunt.”

“You got it backward,” Charlotte said. “Michelle took me in and gave me a place to live.”

“And you cared for her. All I know from the lawyer was that she died from heart failure. Was she in the hospital?”

“Only once.”

Charlotte tried to pull away, but Gabby held her. “Can you tell me about it? What did the doctors say?”

“They put in a stent.” Her voice was a little shaky. “They found other medical problems. With her lungs and her liver. The doctors said she didn’t have long to live. They wanted her to stay at the hospital and rest, but...” Her voice trailed off into silence.

“I didn’t know my aunt well,” Gabby said, “but I know she made her own choices and lived her life the way she wanted. I expect she chose the way she wanted to die.”

“At home.” A sob trembled through Charlotte’s narrow shoulders. “As soon as she could walk, she got out of that hospital bed and hired a nurse to come back to the Roost with us and take care of her medication.”

“You did everything you could to help.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Charlotte collapsed against her. Though her body was wrenched with powerful emotion, she didn’t make a sound. Her silent tears touched Gabby’s heart. This poor girl had no support system whatsoever. There had been times in Gabby’s life when she’d felt alone and bereft of family, but her experience was nothing compared to Charlotte’s abject loneliness.

Gently, Gabby stroked her back. The girl was so thin that her ribs stuck out. She felt as delicate as a baby bird. Looking past Charlotte’s shoulder, Gabby saw Zach watching them from the porch. His expression was oddly gentle, and he almost seemed to be smiling.

“It’s okay,” Gabby murmured. “We’re going to take care of each other. Do you think you can stay here with me?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said quickly. She broke away from the hug, sniffled and looked Gabby in the eye. “I’m really glad I didn’t shoot you.”

It went without saying that Gabby was also happy about that outcome. “We need to talk about that gun.”

With her sleeve, Charlotte wiped the moisture from her cheeks in a gesture that couldn’t have been less feminine. “I need the rifle. There are these guys who are trying to break into the house. Treasure hunters.”

“But I’m here now,” Gabby said. “Nobody will try to break in with both of us here.”

“What if they do?”

“We call the police.”

“It’ll take them at least a half hour to get here.”

She hadn’t thought of the timing. Living at the end of a rutted road without street signs was different than being in Brooklyn. “I don’t like guns.”

“Because you don’t know how to use them,” Zach said. “If you’re going to live here, you need to learn how to defend yourself and your property.”

“Zach can show you,” Charlotte said. “He’s a really good teacher. Maybe tomorrow you can have a lesson.”

“Great,” she muttered. “Until then, can we at least put the gun away somewhere? Leaving it on the stair landing seems dangerous.”

“Yes, it does.” Zach gave Charlotte a puzzled look. “Have you got an explanation?”

“I couldn’t sleep, and I was going upstairs and then back downstairs. If I was all the way down in the kitchen, my rifle wasn’t going to do me much good if it was up in my bedroom closet. So I left it in the middle.”

“You know better,” he said. “You don’t leave a loaded weapon out where anybody could pick it up and use it.”

She scowled. “I know.”

“Gabby could have stumbled over the rifle and caused an accident.”

“I get it.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It’s lucky that both Gabby and me are going to be staying here. If you put the two of us together, you have one smart person.”

Before Gabby could object to being labeled as Tweedle-Dee to Charlotte’s Tweedle-Dum, she heard a confirming woof. On the porch, sitting beside her pile of belongings, was a black-and-white dog with pointed ears. One eye was blue and the other brown. The dog seemed to be grinning at them. “Daphne?”

“What’s she doing here?” Zach asked.

Charlotte went to the dog and scratched behind her ears. “Right after Gabby took off, Daphne showed up and started following me. She hasn’t let me out of her sight. It feels like she’s herding me.”

“Keeping you safe.” Zach looked over his shoulder, scanning the darkness that surrounded the house. “Daphne senses things we don’t see.”

A psychic collie? Gabby would have laughed if she hadn’t felt a prickling on the back of her neck. She didn’t want to think about the coyotes and other possible dangers that Daphne might be seeing with her two-colored eyes.

* * *

ABOUT A MILE from the front porch of the Roost, a man in black crouched beside a fence post and peered through the night vision scope mounted on his rifle. He wanted a better look at the new girl. In spite of the three times magnification, he couldn’t make out details at this distance. She was taller than average and kind of clumsy in the way she walked. And she was a hugger. When she’d wrapped her arms around Charlotte, a flicker of envy had gone through him. He’d been keeping an eye on sweet little Charlotte for the past month and had developed an interest in her, even though the girl was as plain as a female sage grouse.

Having another person at the Roost would make his search more complicated, and time was running out. He needed a new tactic, needed to be smarter. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected that Michelle had hidden what he was looking for. At this point, he didn’t care as much about the money as he did about the potential prison time. He wouldn’t let himself be locked away. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. His knit cap was itchy on his ears. He wasn’t going to let anyone take away the expensive goodies he’d been buying for himself. He’d taken the risk and deserved those things.

Had that old bitch Michelle told Charlotte where she’d hidden her secrets? Had she left instructions for the new girl?

He shifted his scope and focused on Zach Sheffield. If the neighbor decided to get involved with these women, it was going to be trouble. Zach liked to pretend that he was upright and honest—a rodeo hero and a role model. But there was a time, not so very long ago, when he’d been desperate and angry, prone to lashing out first and asking questions later.

As the man in black watched, his finger twitched on the trigger. Life would be easier if he eliminated these obstacles. Pop, pop, pop. Three shots. Three dead bodies. Sheriff Burton would never figure out who did it.

Chapter Four

The next morning when Gabby awoke, sunshine was pouring through the two bedroom windows, assaulting her with blinding force. With a groan, she curled into a fetal position and covered her face with one of the down pillows on her queen-size bed. What was the deal with the light in Colorado? Either it was pitch-dark or glaring like a laser.

“Nature,” she grumbled into her pillow.

These annoying variances in the weather were natural phenomena—something you had to live with when you were in the mountains. In the city, the temperature wasn’t consistent, but you didn’t have to deal with the ups and downs. Life could be arranged to minimize your time outdoors. You could stay inside for days and survive by ordering pizza and Chinese, two options that probably weren’t available at the Roost. No Chinese? It took a moment for that loss to sink into her early morning consciousness. No crispy egg rolls. No General Tso’s chicken.