Maddie Inherits a Cowboy

Madeline was tough. She had generations of Yankee blood flowing through her veins. But over those generations, the Yankees had become accustomed to showering whenever they pleased and lighting rooms with a flip of a switch. She was slightly ashamed for needing those things when she prided herself on being up to any challenge, but it was the twenty-first century. Native American tribes at the bottom of the Grand Canyon had electricity and internet.

She’d certainly be talking to Ty about the power situation. Why didn’t the ranch have solar power? Or wind generators instead of these diesel monstrosities? Cost was undoubtedly an issue, but had he even looked into it before spending so much money on the ranch? Was he unaware of the benefits of twenty-four-hour electricity?

If Madeline had been able to see, she would have made a note.

A melancholy moan from somewhere outside the double-wide brought Madeline upright in her sleeping bag, hands clutched to her chest. Her eyes, which had been drifting shut, were now wide-open as she stared into the darkness, listening.

What on earth…?

The plaintive bawl came again, sending a shiver up her spine before she realized the sound had to be coming from…a cow? Of course. Ranch. Cow.

That sound was nothing like a moo. Not even close, but it had to be a cow.

Madeline slowly settled back down into the bag, her heart still beating a little faster. The house was cooling off at warp speed now that the heat source was gone, so she pulled the soft nylon up to her cheekbones and thought about putting on her ski hat. She’d have to see about getting wood.

Or go home.

The thought shot from out of nowhere and Madeline quickly dismissed it. She’d made plans and she was following through. Besides, her lawyer was glad to have her on the other side of the country and not calling every day with a new angle of attack for her defense.

She flopped over and pulled the bag up over her head, risking a headache from lack of fresh air, but her nose was getting cold.

Toughen up.

If Skip could handle living this way, then so could she…. Although when they were kids, Skip’s idea of a good time was camping in the swampy area behind the house and coming back cold, wet, dirty and tired. She’d preferred to curl up with a book and lose herself in another world while the rain beat on the windows.

The thought of being out in the rain, battling the elements, had never appealed to her, just as living in the middle of nowhere didn’t appeal. She had a fiscal responsibility, however, to herself and to her grandmother, so she would muscle through the unexpected physical discomfort and learn something about this ranch she owned half of.

She’d also…hopefully…keep her mind occupied and stop driving herself crazy with what-ifs about her career.

TY WOKE UP SHORTLY BEFORE dawn. He stared into the darkness for a moment, letting his eyes adjust, before rolling onto his back and flopping an arm over his face. He felt like shit. The cold hopelessness that had engulfed him for so many months after the accident was back. In spades.

No. He was wrong. It wasn’t the same. There was a sense of foreboding mixed in with the usual guilt and darkness. Ty ran a hand over the back of his neck, which was about as stiff as it had been for two weeks after the wreck, when he hadn’t been able to turn his head.

Damn it, Skip, I’m sorry. I know you were fond of her, but I just can’t warm up to your sister.

Alvin poked his cold nose against Ty’s shoulder and he automatically ruffled the dog’s silky fur before shoving the blankets aside and getting out of bed. He shivered as he walked naked into the kitchen to turn on the generator and get some heat flowing. He went to the door and let Alvin out, realizing only as he was shutting it that perhaps he shouldn’t do that naked anymore—at least not while Madeline was on the property. Not that she could see much at that distance, but no sense taking chances or prompting complaints.

How long was she going to stay? For real, that was, after she became acquainted with the actuality of life on Lone Summit Ranch. Days, he hoped. He should be so lucky.

The smartest thing for him to do would be to give her whatever information she needed. Answer her questions, weather her insults, show her whatever she wanted to see and do it ASAP. Starting this morning. Then maybe she’d leave.

That was the plan, anyway, but after eating a quick breakfast of coffee and toast with peanut butter, he couldn’t bring himself to knock on Madeline’s door and ask her when she wanted to go over whatever it was she wanted to go over. Instead he walked past the doublewide to the barn, where he started the tractor. Once it was running and he was ready to pull out and drive to the hay shed, he turned on her generator, holding his breath as always. The ancient machine coughed and chugged, then took hold.

Duty done, he adjusted the scarf around his neck and pulled his earflaps down, then climbed into the driver’s seat. Alvin was already waiting on the empty flatbed trailer. He gave two barks, his way of communicating approval that at long last they were starting the real work of the day. As Ty put the tractor in gear, the little collie braced himself, his sharp gaze darting here and there as he guarded his trailer against any marauders that might try to hitch a ride.

MADELINE’S EYES FLASHED open as the overhead lights came on. Normally she never slept this late—it was almost 8:00 a.m. eastern standard time—but she hadn’t fallen asleep until very, very late. In fact, she’d resigned herself to staring up at the dark ceiling, her nose getting colder as the temperature steadily dropped, and wondering if Skip had truly enjoyed living this way or had been too proud to admit he’d made a mistake.

Somewhere along the line, she’d fallen asleep.

She sat up and then immediately snuggled back into the sleeping bag. The room was even more frigid than when she’d fallen asleep, but the furnace had come on with the power. She would let the heat blow for a few minutes.

Or a few hours.

Madeline compromised and climbed out of the bag ten minutes later and put on her coat. She hurried to the bathroom and shut the door to trap the heat flowing up through the vents. Blessed warmth.

Having no idea how long the electricity would be on—something else to discuss with Ty—she cranked on the shower, grimacing slightly as the water ran rusty. It cleared after a few minutes and she climbed under the wonderfully strong spray, letting it beat on her shoulders and back, warming her.

Madeline stood under the shower until the water started to cool—something she rarely did, but she had a slightly larger water tank back home. She stepped out into the saunalike environment she’d created, cleared the condensation off the mirror with her washcloth, then prepared for the daily battle with the blow-dryer and flatiron.

Once that was done, she would brew a thermos of instant coffee, then sit down with her laptop and write up a plan of attack for the morning and afternoon. She’d spend the evening working on her great-grandmother’s memoir, with a flashlight if necessary.

First on the list—set up a meeting with Ty. She hoped today he was in a mood to cooperate.

Second—a trip back down the mountain. She wanted to talk to Connor, both to touch base and to vent about the state of this alleged ranch, her uncertainties concerning Ty. She needed a sounding board. Someone she could trust.

THE MORNING WAS NOT going well. Fair or not, Ty blamed Madeline. If she hadn’t come to the ranch, he would have been able to concentrate. He wouldn’t have hit the pothole under the snow, shifting his load of hay so that he caught a bale on the gatepost as he drove through.

After he’d restacked the hay, Alvin held the cows off while Ty opened the second gate, the one leading to the cattle pasture, and drove the tractor through. The dog leaped back onto his trailer and Ty started feeding without incident, Alvin happily snapping and barking at the cows to keep them from pulling bales off one side of the trailer while Ty dropped hay off the other. But while Ty usually found a temporary sense of peace in the simple act of feeding, today a dark cloud hung over him.

Were these his only choices in life? To be depressed or to be angry?

Hell of a way to live.

Man up. Madeline was Skip’s sister. His inherited business partner. He had to do his duty and be civil. She was here for answers he owed her, to clear up suspicions that, while insulting and rather tactlessly voiced, were justified. For all she knew, he was a guy who’d taken advantage of her brother.

Would he be able to convince her otherwise?

Was he even going to try? And if he did, would she listen, or was she one of those people who, once her mind was made up, refused to change it? Skip had told him more than once about her stubbornness.

Ty had become grimly comfortable about how he dealt with his guilt. He didn’t need Madeline here, stir ring the pot. Mainly because he didn’t know if he had it in him to come up with yet another coping mechanism.

He dumped one more bale, then got on the tractor to move to the next spot, stringing the cattle out so they had room to eat.

He drove on a few yards, then stopped when he saw a yellowish-brown mound next to the frozen creek. His rotten morning continued.

It’d been easy to blame Madeline for his bad mood and lack of concentration, but it was kind of hard to blame her for the cow lying in the willows. Ty stopped the tractor and left Alvin to keep the cows from destroying the stack of hay on the trailer.

This was one of his feistier cows, but she simply turned her head and blinked when he approached. And then he saw the dead calf. A preemie, but a big one.

“Come on, girl,” he muttered, reaching out to give her a couple pats on her shoulder. She didn’t react. He nudged her with his knee, carefully, since he’d had recurring problems with the joint since the accident, but again, no response.

Shit.

Ty dug under the layers of clothing he wore, pulled his cell out of his pocket and hit lucky number three with his gloved thumb. You know you’re a rancher when you have the vet on speed dial.

“Hey,” he said when Sam Hyatt answered. The crackling connection told Ty the vet was in his truck, probably on the edge of the service area. “Ty Hopewell.” His breath crystallized as he spoke. “Any chance you can make it up to my place this morning? I have a cow down. She’s just aborted a big preemie. Calving paralysis, I’m guessing.”

The best Sam could do was noon, since he was more than a hundred miles away, en route to another emergency call.