Luke's Proposal

“Our families have fought over ownership of the homestead for more than eighty years. Now you’re volunteering to sign over 2500 acres of prime land to a McCloud?” Skepticism tinged his deep voice.

“Yes.”

He studied her, his gaze fastened on hers as he lifted the bottle and drank, the muscles of his throat moving rhythmically. Rachel refused to look away, despite the instant, vivid memory of that sensual, hard mouth on hers. If she was to have any hope of convincing him to agree to a business relationship, she couldn’t let him know he still made her knees weak. She’d never been able to forget the kiss they’d shared when she was seventeen. She’d avoided him ever since. She’d been kissed by other men since. Why hadn’t she forgotten the taste and feel of his mouth on hers?

He lowered the bottle. “I can’t believe your uncle knows you’re doing this.”

“He doesn’t,” Rachel said flatly. “And though he’s bound to find out sooner or later, I’d prefer to delay that moment as long as possible.”

“If he doesn’t know, how can he sign off on the deed?”

“My mother will sign. She has control of the property.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed over her, his expression sharpening. “Your grandfather left the McCloud homestead to his dead son’s widow and not to Harlan?”

“Yes.” Rachel refused to elaborate further.

“Your mother moved away from the ranch years ago. I thought she and Marcus were estranged.”

His blue stare was unreadable. Rachel had the uneasy feeling he was weighing each word she said. She was an intensely private person, as was her mother, and they’d agreed to keep the difficulties and disagreements they’d had with Marcus, Harlan and Lonnie within the family. How much did she have to tell Luke to convince him that her mother had the authority to sign the deed and give him the land?

“My mother wanted my brother and me to grow up on the ranch, but when Zach was gone and I left for college, she moved into the house in town she inherited from her parents. She’s involved in many community projects and it’s more convenient for her to live in Wolf Creek rather than twenty miles away on the ranch.”

Rachel knew he wasn’t completely satisfied with her carefully worded explanation. She felt her face heat as he studied her.

“Why don’t you just sell the land to me outright? It might take a few weeks for me to get the cash, but the money would be a sure thing. No matter how good your horse is, racing quarter horses is always a gamble.”

“We considered that,” she admitted, pausing to glance over her shoulder at the bar, buying time to steady her nerves. The waitress looked distinctly unfriendly, but Rachel lifted her hand to beckon her anyway. The woman ignored her, purposely turning her attention to a cowboy seated on a bar stool, and Rachel turned back to Luke. She’d anticipated this question. But, the necessity of telling him a half-truth went against every principle she held dear. The whole truth, however, that the will had said her mother could only accept one dollar from him in return for the property deed, would destroy any hope of his agreeing to train Ransom’s Mist. And Luke and Ransom’s Mist were the only chance she had to guarantee that the inheritance left to her mother, Zach and herself wasn’t lost forever.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, glancing past her to the waitress.

“No. I’ve changed my mind.” She drew a deep breath, calmer now, and continued. “Mom and I don’t want to give up any more acres than are absolutely necessary. We want to hold the sections that Granddad left us individually and combine them with the land he left to my brother, Zach. He loves ranching and he loves the land.”

“Then why isn’t he the one talking to me?”

“Because we can’t reach him.” She thrust her fingers through her hair, tucking the long fall behind her ear. “He’s overseas at the moment.”

“Hmm.” Luke’s eyes narrowed. The nervous gesture was the first indication she was anything other than cool and in control. She hadn’t once mentioned her cousin Lonnie. Smart woman, he thought. This conversation would have been over if she’d told him Lonnie was the family member she wanted to join forces with. “I had a cousin in the military,” he commented, watching her. “In an emergency the family could always reach him through his commanding officer.”

Rachel held his stare. “Zach’s not military anymore. He left Special Forces to become a munitions consultant with a private company a couple of years ago. Contacting him is difficult at times, if not impossible. His employer wouldn’t even tell us what country he’s in right now.”

“I see.” Luke wondered just what kind of black ops mission Rachel’s brother was involved in. “How do you think he’ll feel about you trading the homestead to a McCloud?”

“He’ll understand we have to give up a small part of our inheritance to save the rest.”

Luke doubted Zach Kerrigan would understand or agree with the women’s decision, but he let Rachel’s assertion pass. “It would be a lot easier if you’d just sell me the land outright,” he said. “Or sell the whole damn place. My dad would buy it.”

“No.” Her jaw firmed, her expression stubborn. “Kerrigans have lived on the Bar K since we homesteaded there in the late 1800s. We won’t sell. Not unless there’s no other possible choice.”

Luke could understand her position. McCloud ancestors had settled in the basin the same year the Kerrigans arrived. No McCloud would willingly sell, either.

Which made him question even more why she was willing to trade land for his expertise with horses. Especially this particular piece of land.

“Why do I have the feeling there’s more to this than you’re telling me,” he mused, not really expecting an answer. But the swift lowering of her lashes and the tightening of her grip on the leather straps of her bag told him he was right. What was she hiding? Something about the land—or something about the horse? “Suppose you tell me exactly what the problem is with your horse.”

“He’s three years old and he’s never been ridden.”

“And,” Luke prompted when she stopped speaking.

“And he won’t let anyone close enough to break him.”

“That’s not unusual. I’m guessing you have reason to believe no trainer can saddle-break him. So cut to the chase and tell me what happened to him.”

“When he was a yearling, he was caught in a barbed wire fence.” Rachel didn’t react to his muttered curse. “By the time my uncle and the hired hand found him, he was down and wrapped in the fence. They had to cut the wire to get him on his feet, and his hide and legs were torn and bleeding in a dozen places. The vet said that given the amount of damage, he’d probably been on the ground and thrashing for some time before he was discovered.”

“What the hell was a quarter horse with his bloodline doing in an enclosure fenced with barb wire?”

“Harlan was having the metal fences in the horse enclosure painted so he turned Ransom out into the cattle pasture north of the house.”

“Huh.” Luke’s disgust for Harlan’s carelessness with a horse as valuable as Ransom must have been written on his face because Rachel stiffened and appeared to steel herself to continue.

“It gets worse.”

“Worse?”

“Six months later my uncle hired Troy Armstrong to break Ransom.”

Luke swore under his breath.

“Troy had him saddled and bridled when Ransom bucked him off and escaped.”

“He knocked down the metal corral fencing? Or he went over the top?”

Rachel shook her head. “No metal fencing. He wasn’t in the breaking pen—Troy used the snubbing post in an old wood corral. Ransom went crazy and kicked the half-rotted poles loose, then he crashed through them.”

Luke tamped down anger at the trainer’s failure to foresee the potentially dangerous situation, and managed to speak without snarling. “How much damage did he do?”

“None to himself but he pretty much wiped out the corral fence. That wasn’t a big loss because Harlan rarely uses it, but it was a week before my uncle and Troy could get close enough to rope Ransom and bring him in. He ran loose with the saddle twisted and the reins dangling all that time. When they had him in the breaking pen, it took a long time before they could get him to stand still and allow them close enough to strip the gear off. Ever since, he’s been totally unpredictable. He wouldn’t let Troy near him. When Troy tried to rope Ransom again to saddle him, Ransom pinned his ears back, bared his teeth and chased him out of the breaking pen.”

“Smart horse,” Luke commented. “Armstrong is an idiot.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that assessment,” she said with feeling. “Afterward, Harlan turned Ransom loose with the cattle in the open pasture and let him run. He’s been there ever since and no one’s tried to handle him.”

“Why didn’t Harlan hire another trainer?”

Rachel glanced around the bar. Luke let the small silence stretch, waiting for her answer but suspecting what it would be.

“I think my uncle decided Ransom wasn’t worth the effort.”