Diana Palmer Christmas Collection: The Rancher / Christmas Cowboy / A Man of Means / True Blue / Carrera's Bride / Will of Steel / Winter Roses

“We heard that you were in modeling…” Her voice trailed away as she saw the obvious long scar on the once-perfect cheek. “What happened?”

Dorie’s eyes were all but dead. “Not much. I decided that modeling wasn’t for me.” She laughed at some private joke. “I went back to school and completed a course in business. Now I work for a group of attorneys. I’m a stenographer.” Her gaze fell. “Jacobsville hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Jacobsville never changes,” Abby chuckled. “I find it comforting.” The laughter went out of her eyes. “We all heard about your father. I’m sorry. It must have been a blow.”

“He’d been in the nursing home near me for some time, but he always said he wanted to be buried here. That’s why I brought him home. I appreciated so many people coming to the funeral. It was kind.”

“I suppose you noticed one missing face in the crowd?” Abby asked carefully, because she knew how persistent Corrigan Hart had been in his pursuit of Dorie.

“Yes.” She twisted her purse in her hands. “Are they still making jokes about the Hart boys?”

“More than ever. There’s never been the slightest hint of gossip about any of them and a woman. I guess they’re all determined to die single. Especially Corrigan. He’s turned into a recluse. He stays out at the ranch all the time now. He’s never seen.”

“Why?”

Abby seemed evasive. “He doesn’t mix and nobody knows much about his life. Odd, isn’t it, in a town this small, where we mostly know each other’s business, that he isn’t talked about? But he stays out of sight and none of the other boys ever speak about him. He’s become the original local mystery.”

“Well, don’t look at me as if I’m the answer. He couldn’t get rid of me fast enough,” she said with a twinge of remaining bitterness.

“That’s what you think. He became a holy terror in the weeks after you left town. Nobody would go near him.”

“He only wanted me,” Dorie said doggedly.

Abby’s eyes narrowed. “And you were terrified of him,” she recalled. “Calhoun used to joke about it. You were such an innocent and Corrigan was a rounder. He said it was poetic justice that rakes got caught by innocents.”

“I remember Calhoun being a rake.”

“He was,” Abby recalled. “But not now. He’s reformed. He’s the greatest family man I could have imagined, a doting father and a wonderful husband.” She sobered. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you and Corrigan. If you hadn’t taken off like that, I think he might have decided that he couldn’t live without you.”

“God forbid,” she laughed, her eyes quick and nervous. “He wasn’t a marrying man. He said so, frequently. And I was raised…well, you know how Dad was. Ministers have a decidedly conventional outlook on life.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t had such a bad time of it,” she lied, grateful that her old friend couldn’t read minds. She smiled. “I like New York.”

“Do you have anyone there?”

“You mean a boyfriend, or what do they call it, a significant other?” she murmured. “No. I…don’t have much to do with men.”

There was a strangely haunted look about her that Abby quickly dispelled with an offer of coffee and a sandwich in the local café.

“Yes, thanks, I’m not hungry but I’d love some hot chocolate.”

“Great!” Abby said. “I’ve got an hour to kill before I have to pick my two oldest boys up at school and the youngest from kindergarten. I’ll enjoy your company.”

The café was all but empty. It was a slow day, and except for a disgruntled looking cowboy sitting alone at a corner table, it was deserted.

Barbara, the owner, took their orders with a grin. “Nice to have pleasant company,” she said, glaring toward the cowboy in the corner. “He brought a little black cloud in with him, and it’s growing.” She leaned closer. “He’s one of the Hart employees,” she whispered. “Or, he was until this morning. It seems that Corrigan fired him.”

The sound of the man’s name was enough to make Dorie’s heart race, even after so many years. But she steeled herself not to let it show. She had nothing left to offer Corrigan, even if he was still interested in her. And that was a laugh. If he’d cared even a little, he’d have come to New York looking for her all those years ago.

“Fired him?” Abby glanced at the man and scowled. “But that’s Buck Wyley,” she protested. “He’s the Harts’ foreman. He’s been with them since they came here.”

“He made a remark Corrigan didn’t like. He got knocked on his pants for his trouble and summarily fired.” Barbara shrugged. “The Harts are all hightempered, but until now I always thought Corrigan was fair. What sort of boss fires a man with Christmas only three weeks away?”

“Ebenezer Scrooge?” Abby ventured dryly.

“Buck said he cut another cowboy’s wages to the bone for leaving a gate open.” She shook her head. “Funny, we’ve heard almost nothing about Corrigan for years, and all of a sudden he comes back into the light like a smoldering madman.”

“So I noticed,” Abby said.

Barbara wiped her hands on a dishcloth. “I don’t know what happened to set him off after so many years. The other brothers have been more visible lately, but not Corrigan. I’d wondered if he’d moved away for a while. Nobody even spoke of him.” She glanced at Dorie with curious eyes. “You’re Dorothy Wayne, aren’t you?” she asked then, smiling. “I thought I recognized you. Sorry about your pa.”

“Thanks,” Dorie said automatically. She noticed how Barbara’s eyes went to the thin scar on her cheek and flitted quickly away.

“I’ll get your order.”

Barbara went back behind the counter and Abby’s puzzled gaze went to the corner.

“Having a bad day, Buck?” she called.

He sipped black coffee. “It couldn’t get much worse, Mrs. Ballenger,” he replied in a deep, pleasant tone. “I don’t suppose Calhoun and Justin are hiring out at the feedlot?”

“They’d hire you in a minute, and you know it,” Abby told him. She smiled. “Why don’t you go out there and…”

“Oh, the devil!” Buck muttered, his black eyes flashing. He got to his feet and stood there, vibrating, as a tall, lean figure came through the open door.

Dorie actually caught her breath. The tall man was familiar to her, even after all those years. Dressed in tight jeans, with hand-tooled boots and a chambray shirt and a neat, spotless white Stetson atop his black hair, he looked formidable, even with the cane he was using for support.

He didn’t look at the table where Dorie was sitting, which was on the other side of the café from Buck.

“You fired me,” Buck snapped at him. “What do you want, another punch at me? This time, you’ll get it back in spades, gimpy leg or not!”

Corrigan Hart just stared at the man, his pale eyes like chrome sparkling in sunlight.

“Those purebred Angus we got from Montana are coming in by truck this morning,” he said. “You’re the only one who knows how to use the master program for the computerized herd records.”

“And you need me,” Buck agreed with a cold smile. “For how long?”

“Two weeks,” came the curt reply. “You’ll work that long for your severance pay. If you’re still of a mind to quit.”

“Quit, hell!” Buck shot back, astonished. “You fired me!”

“I did not!” the older man replied curtly. “I said you could mind your own damned business or get out.”

Buck’s head turned and he stared at the other man for a minute. “If I come back, you’d better keep your fists to yourself from now on,” he said shortly.

The other man didn’t blink. “You know why you got hit.”