The Man From Montana

The Man From Montana
Mary J. Forbes

“Am I a cowboy now?” Charlie asked.

Ash ruffled the kid’s hair, then pushed off the bed. “You’re a novice cowboy. How’s that?”

“That means beginner?”

“Right. Smart boy.”

“Sometimes I’m not.” He ducked his head.

“Well, that’s why you’re seven. You still have a lot of growing to do.”

“Mom says so, too.”

“I’d listen to your mom.”

“And you.” The boy’s smile healed a spot in Ash’s heart.

“On this ranch, that’s a given. Your mom in her room?”

“Uh-uh. She’s right behind you.”

Ash struggled around. Rachel leaned in the doorway, hands tucked under her arms. Defensive and a little wary. He’d done that. Kissing her had not been clever. But he couldn’t stay away. One look from those blue cat eyes, one word from that expressive mouth, and he was as lost as her son was with his boots on the wrong feet….

Dear Reader,

As a child growing up on a large farm, I adored the freedom country life grants—its wonderful clear-lined skies, the big-mooned harvest nights, and winter days cold enough to make your cheeks ache. And in the midst of this pristine beauty were the animals: horses, cows, dogs, cats—creatures with personalities all their own.

We always had a herd of horses running in the pasture and, throughout the summer, cattle grazing on leased land. Each season brought about specific events. February and March meant calving season and watchful nights. Summer meant haying. And fall signified harvest and the time to “bring the cows home” again. Winter, of course, lent to slower and colder days, but certainly not without chores!

Is it any wonder that a story about a cowboy would evolve in my mind?

While Ash and Rachel and the journey they undertake are entirely fictional, the magic of hearing coyotes yap deep in the night and feeling the sting of winter winds against the skin are experiences of the heart.

May you enjoy this tale about a stoic rancher from Montana and the woman who breaks past the fences he’s erected around his life.

Mary J. Forbes

The Man from Montana

Mary J. Forbes

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

MARY J. FORBES

grew up on a farm amidst horses, cattle, crisp hay and broad blue skies. As a child, she drew and wrote of her surroundings, and in sixth grade composed her first story about a little lame pony. Years later, she worked as an accountant, then as a reporter-photographer for a small-town newspaper, before attaining an honors degree in education to become a teacher. She has also written and published short fiction stories.

A romantic by nature, Mary loves walking along the ocean shoreline, sitting by the fire on snowy or rainy evenings and two-stepping around the dance floor to a good country song—all with her own real-life hero, of course. Mary would love to hear from her readers at www.maryjforbes.com.

To my editor, Stacy Boyd—

for believing in me

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

She could smell the story. Feel it in her veins.

A hot, pulsing thing that would procure the career she’d vied for these past ten years.

Will you finally be proud, Daddy? Will you think my journalistic skills are comparable to Mama’s?

God, she hoped so.

At the crossroads Old Joe the baker had described, Rachel Brant stopped her rusty Sunburst and scanned the three desolate directions vanishing into the rolling Montana countryside: ahead toward the south, left going east, right westward-ho. Each road as long and gray as the next. Each banked in dirty plowed snow and flanked by fields covered in icy white quilts.

The Flying Bar T lay west, toward the Rocky Mountains.