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Synopsis
Wild at Heart . . . Jake Conway is good with his hands. A veterinarian known for his gentle touch, he's also the most eligible bachelor in Wyoming. But like any wild animal, Jake longs to roam free . . . until a sultry redhead with a smile from here to heaven turns up in town. When her estranged father dies, Meg Stanford inherits his rustic ranch-and all the painful memories that come with it. She's determined to settle the estate and face down the ghosts of her past. But a series of midnight break-ins have Meg running from the ranch-and into the arms of the sexy cowboy next door. As their passion grows hotter, the attacks grow bolder. Can Jake keep her safe, or will he lose the only woman he's ever loved?
Release date: February 26, 2013
Publisher: Forever
Print pages: 448
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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Jake
R. C. Ryan
“There’s plenty of hot cowboys, action, and romance in this heady mix of a series that will leave you breathless.”
—Parkersburg News and Sentinel (WV)
“A powerfully emotional tale that will connect with readers…Love a feel-good cowboy romance with a touch of suspense? Then
pick up Josh.”
—RomRevToday.com
“This story is action-packed and fast moving. Just when you think it’s safe, it isn’t…a good solid story with fantastic characters
and an interesting story line…Another really good romance with enough suspense to keep you waiting to see what will happen
next.”
—NightOwlReviews.com
“Ryan takes readers to Big Sky country in a big way with her vivid visual dialogue as she gives us a touching love story with
a mystery subplot. The characters, some good and one evil, will stay with you long after the book is closed.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Quinn is a satisfying read. R. C. Ryan is an accomplished and experienced storyteller. And if you enjoy contemporary cowboys in
a similar vein to Linda Lael Miller, you’ll enjoy this.”
—GoodReads.com
“Engaging…Ryan paints a picturesque image of the rugged landscape and the boisterous, loving, close-knit Conway family.”
—Publishers Weekly
“I thoroughly enjoyed reading about the Conway family and their ranch…a wonderful introduction to a new trilogy that looks
to be unique and full of surprises.”
—NightOwlReviews.com
“The child adds a lovely emotional element to the story, the secondary romance is enjoyable, and all loose ends are nicely
tied up.”
—RT Book Reviews
“[The Montana Trilogy] is a good series of hunky cowboys and nail-biting mystery. Zane and Riley have great chemistry and
are a read that you can’t put down.”
—Parkersburg News and Sentinel (WV)
“These not-to-be-missed books are guaranteed to warm your heart!”
—FreshFiction.com
“Wonderful romantic suspense tale starring a courageous heroine who is a lioness protecting her cub and a reluctant knight
in shining armor…a terrific taut thriller.”
—GenreGoRoundReviews.blogspot.com
“5 Stars! Watching this wild rebel and independent woman attempt to coexist was so much fun…The author, R. C. Ryan, delivers
an ongoing, tantalizing mystery suspense with heartwarming romance. Sinfully yummy!”
—HuntressReviews.com
“Ryan’s amazing genius at creating characters with heartfelt emotions, wit, and passion is awe-inspiring. I can’t wait until
Montana Glory comes out…so that I can revisit the McCord family!”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“The series continues to intrigue, and each page brings you closer to finding the treasure. Another terrific story from R. C.
Ryan.”
—SingleTitles.com
“[A] wonderful series…The characters are extremely well developed…I couldn’t put this book down. I can’t wait until Zane’s
story comes out.”
—NightOwlReviews.com
“A captivating start to a new series.”
—BookPage
“Heart-melting sensuality…this engaging story skillfully refreshes a classic trilogy pattern and sets the stage for the stories
to come.”
—Library Journal
“Fabulous…a well-written story with fully developed characters that I easily came to care for.”
—HuntressReviews.com
“A fresh, entertaining tale that will keep you wanting to read more…We only get tantalizing hints of Wyatt and Zane, but I
can’t wait to read their stories.”
—RomRevToday.com
Prologue
Conway ranch—The Devil’s WildernessWyoming—1982
Quinn. Josh.” Big Jim Conway’s voice had his two grandsons looking up from their chores in the barn.
“Yes, sir?” Quinn paused, and the hose in his hand continued spilling water across the floor of the barn.
“Watch what you’re doing there, boyo.”
“Oh.” The boy turned off the spigot and dropped the hose. “Sorry.”
“Where’s your little brother?”
“Don’t know.” Quinn glanced guiltily toward his brother Josh, and the two boys waited for the explosion they knew would follow
that admission. Since the day their mother, Seraphine, had vanished without a trace two years earlier, they had been charged
with keeping a close eye on seven-year-old Jake. Not an easy job on a ranch this huge, especially since their youngest brother
had a habit of wandering off to find all sorts of mischief.
“Sorry, Big Jim.” The boys never called their grandfather by anything other than that. There were no warm, fuzzy nicknames
for this tough rancher, even by the youngest members of his family. “Last I saw Jake, he was out behind the barn.”
The old man walked away, muttering in frustration. A search of the area behind the barns came up empty, and Big Jim climbed
the hill to the spot where a gleaming headstone stood, with five smaller stones forming a semicircle around it.
As was his custom, the old man lay a gnarled hand on the headstone that marked the resting place of his wife, Clementine,
who had borne him six sons, five of whom had died in infancy. “I swear, Clemmy, that boy will be the death of me. He’s too
damned independent for his own good. Do you have any idea where he’s gone this time?”
As if in answer a small head popped up from the far side of the hill. Jake was carrying something in his arms that appeared
to weigh more than he did.
“What’s that you’ve got there, boyo?” As the boy drew closer Big Jim’s jaw dropped. “Is that what I think it is?”
“It’s a cougar, Big Jim. He’s just a little one, and he’s hurting.”
The old man’s growl was a combination of rage and fear. “Put that critter down before he devours you.”
The boy merely continued toward his grandfather. “I can help him, Big Jim.”
“I said put him down.”
The boy halted, then knelt in the grass before depositing the animal gently on the ground.
The old man ventured close enough to see that the young cougar was bloody and mangled, but still alive. “Looks like he tangled
with something big and ornery. Probably a mother bear, and the bear won.”
“His ma was dead.”
“You know that for a fact?”
The boy nodded. “Looks like she fought hard to save him. He was lying beside her, licking her face. Can I take him to the
barn and doctor him?”
“Listen to me, boyo.” The old man’s voice lowered, hoping to soften the blow. “It’s a fine thing you want to do. But this
is a wild critter. He may be too weak to keep you from doctoring him now, but if he should survive, once he’s well and strong,
he’ll do what wild things do. He’ll try to kill you. It’s his nature.”
Jake turned those wide, trusting eyes on his grandfather. “I know, Big Jim. But I still have to try to help. Look at him.
He’s hurting something bad. And he doesn’t have a ma either.”
And he doesn’t have a ma either.
The little boy’s words were a knife to Big Jim’s heart. How could he possibly refuse a motherless boy’s request to help a
motherless creature? Besides, there would be plenty of time for the lad to learn that nature could be cruel as well as beautiful.
“All right, boyo. I’ll help you build a cage and lend a hand with the doctoring. But you’re not to forget that he’s a wild
thing that sees other creatures as food. As soon as he’s strong enough, he’ll bite the hand that doctors him.”
“I won’t forget, Big Jim.” With great tenderness the boy lifted the heavy animal.
“Let me give you a hand with him.”
As the older man reached out, Jake shook his head. “I can do it.”
He carried the big cat toward the barn. Inside, he applied ointment to the worst of the bite marks, and then went in search
of Ela, an Arapaho woman who cooked for their family and had been with them since Big Jim’s wife, Clementine, had died some
thirty years earlier.
Ela showed Jake how to use a needle and some fine thread to close the gaping wounds and stem the bleeding until they could
heal.
For the next week Jake slept in the barn beside the cage his grandfather had made, and he even took his meals there, hand-feeding
the cougar and applying ointment whenever its curious tongue weakened the stitches and opened another wound. Jake’s father,
grandfather, and brothers reported hearing the lad talking to the animal late into the night.
A week later, when the young cougar had passed through the crisis and began to grow restless, Jake persuaded his grandfather
to load the cage into the jaws of their front-end loader and drive it out to the range, near where the animal had been found.
Once there, they deposited the cage on the ground and then sat trying to figure out how to open it without risking their own
safety.
“I’ll just lift up the door,” Jake said calmly.
“Like hell you will, boyo.” The old man shook a finger in his face. “You’ll stay up here on this machine with me, and we’ll
figure out a way to snag the door with a rope and hook.”
While his grandfather was pondering the situation, Jake jumped to the ground, walked to the front of the cage, and lifted
the door before stepping back.
For a moment the cougar stared at the boy, and then at the man, who was swearing a blue streak.
With a last look at the boy, the cougar calmly stepped out into freedom, before sprinting off.
Big Jim hurried to stand beside his grandson as the cougar made a great leap onto a rock ledge, where it lay panting in the
afternoon sunshine.
Before they could turn away, the cougar lifted a paw and began licking it. It seemed, to the old man, that the animal wasn’t
so much grooming itself as waving to the one who’d saved his life.
Or maybe, the old man thought, he was merely getting a bit dotty in his old age. After all, this predator would probably thank
them by killing off more of their cattle.
Still, he’d swear that young cat was smiling and purring. And all because an innocent lad with a passion for healing couldn’t
bear to see another living creature suffer.
Chapter One
Paintbrush, Wyoming—Present Day
Thanks, Jake.” The grizzled rancher pumped Jake Conway’s hand hard enough to have him wincing. “Figured old Scout here had
seen his last sunset. I tried every home remedy I could think of.” The old man grinned. “Hated having to give in and pay a
vet. You know how it is.”
Jake nodded in understanding. Every rancher in these parts knew how to birth a calf, treat a lame horse, and cure the hundred-and-one
things that could go wrong with ranch animals. A veterinarian was called only in extreme circumstances, or when an animal
had to be put down and its owner couldn’t bear to do the deed.
“Looks like I’d better start calling you Doc.” The old rancher winked at his teenage granddaughter, who was practically swooning
over the handsome young veterinarian as though he were a Greek god.
His wife, standing beside their daughter, thrust a covered plate into Jake’s hands. “Brownies,” the older woman said with
a shy smile. “Our Tina here baked them herself.”
“Thank you, Anna. And thank you, Tina. How’d you know about my sweet tooth?” Jake turned that famous Conway smile on both
females, who audibly sighed.
The old rancher couldn’t suppress a grin. The women in his household were all smitten with Cole Conway’s youngest son. Word
in the tiny town of Paintbrush was that Jake Conway had the same effect on every female there from sixteen to sixty. It had
been that way since Jake was twelve or thirteen, and still trailing his older brothers around town wearing a sweaty T-shirt,
dusty denims, and one of his grandfather’s cast-off frayed, wide-brimmed cowboy hats. As he’d matured, he’d grown into a tall,
muscled cowboy, whose rugged good looks were enhanced by a spill of curly black hair always in need of a trim, and devilish
blue eyes that sparkled with unmistakable humor. A big part of his charm was that good-natured, roguish smile. Women just gravitated to him like bees to honey.
“I guess what I’ve heard around town is the truth. You’re some kind of miracle worker.”
“Not me. I’ve got miracle drugs.” Jake smiled and patted his pocket before tucking away the syringe and vial. “Just doing
my job, Will.”
“The way I see it, thanks to that fancy vet school in Michigan, you’re doing it even better’n old Doc Hunger did. And that’s
saying something.”
Jake couldn’t hide his pleasure at the compliment. It meant the world to him that the ranchers accepted him without question.
Not an easy task when they still thought of the youngest Conway son as a lightweight compared to his father, grandfather,
and two older brothers.
At his truck, the two men shook hands again before Jake climbed inside and started toward home.
As he drove along the dusty road he played back his phone messages. One from Phoebe, their housekeeper, reminding him that
Ela was baking her famous corn bread to go with the ham she’d put in the oven, and he’d better not be late.
His mouth was watering as he played the second message, this one from his brother Quinn, reminding him of dinner Saturday
night as a surprise for his wife’s birthday, and that if Cheyenne had so much as an inkling of what was planned, he’d know
it was all Jake’s fault for having a big mouth.
Jake was still grinning as the third message began. A woman’s breathy voice, sounding either stressed or annoyed.
“This is Meg Stanford. I’ve just arrived at my father’s ranch to dispose of his estate, and there’s a colt out in the barn
that appears to be lame. I’m not sure there’s anything you can do for it, but I’d like you to…” The voice paused for so long,
Jake thought the call may have been interrupted. But then the message continued. “…do whatever it is you do with animals that
are beyond help.”
Unsure of what he’d heard, he played the message a second time before dismissing all thought of Ela’s corn bread and ham from
his mind. He made a sharp U-turn and headed toward the Stanford ranch.
As he drew near, it occurred to Jake that though Porter Stanford had been his family’s nearest neighbor, he’d never before
set foot on the property. He and his brothers had been warned when they were just boys that they were to stay clear of the
rancher, whose volatile temper was well-known around these parts.
In the town of Paintbrush gossip spread quicker than a prairie fire, and the juicy tales about Porter Stanford before his
sudden death days ago had all been negative. Folks around these parts just shook their heads over his hair-trigger temper,
the hellish life his two ex-wives had endured at his hands, all of which they’d been eager to share with anyone who would
listen, and of the fact that his third wife had been young enough to be his granddaughter. She’d died two years ago of a brain
hemorrhage, leaving Porter with a young son.
Jake wondered about the woman claiming to be Porter’s daughter. He could vaguely recall hearing about a wild child who matched
her father in looks and temperament. But that was years ago, before Porter’s very public first divorce, when she and her mother,
Virginia, had taken themselves off to parts unknown.
Jake turned his truck onto the lane that led to the rustic ranch house. Nestled on a bluff, the house overlooked some of the
richest grazing land in the territory. Now in early spring, the land was just turning green and was dotted with buds of Indian
paintbrush and towering cottonwood. No wonder Porter Stanford had thought of himself as a king and all of Wyoming as his fiefdom.
Maybe, Jake thought with sudden insight, that was another reason why Stanford had a particular dislike of the Conway family.
Not only were they his nearest neighbors, but they owned all the land around him, leaving him unable to expand his kingdom.
Jake followed the curving driveway to the back door of the house and stepped out of his truck. A sleek, candy-apple-red rental
car was parked beside the porch.
He climbed the wide porch steps and knocked.
A sexy female voice called, “Come in.”
He stepped into a kitchen offering a spectacular view of the Tetons in the distance. Finding no one there, he stepped through
the open doorway into a massive great room, where a woman was walking toward him, carrying a cardboard box that was bigger
than she.
“Hello.” Though he couldn’t see the face, the view from the waist down was enticing. A tiny waist and long, long legs encased
in narrow denims.
“Oh. Hello. If you want to take a look at the farm implements, you may as well start tagging the things out in the second
barn.”
“You’re planning an auction?”
She peered around the box. “Aren’t you from the auction house?”
“No. Sorry. I’m the vet. Here. Let me help you.” He took the box from her hands. “Where do you want this?”
“The kitchen table will be fine.” She led the way and Jake followed.
As he set down the heavy box he shot her a grin. “What’ve you got in there? A safe?”
She sighed. “Sorry. I should have warned you. I found several locked metal boxes in an upstairs room and thought I’d bring
them down before opening them to see what’s inside.” She offered her hand. “I’m Meg Stanford.”
Jake accepted her handshake and took the moment to study her. She had her father’s fiery red hair, pulled back into a ponytail,
and green eyes the color of prairie grass.
“Jake Conway.” He was fascinated by her lips. Soft, pursed lips that, though bare of makeup, were absolutely enticing. “I’m
sorry about your loss.”
“Thank you.” She spoke the words in a flat, unemotional tone. “You said you were the vet. I was expecting Dr. Hunger.”
“He retired. His service directs his calls to me.”
“I see.” She nodded toward the door. “I’ll take you to the barn.”
Jake trailed behind her, enjoying the view of her trim backside in the shiny, new denims. They were so crisp they looked as
though they’d just come off a store rack, as did the cotton shirt buttoned clear to her throat and tucked precisely into the
waistband.
He glanced at her feet. Even the sneakers were brand-new, though they wouldn’t remain that way once she stepped into the barn.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since this morning.”
“Where are you from?”
She paused, her hand on the barn door. “Washington.”
“As in Spokane?”
She smiled. “As in D.C.”
“You’re a long way from home. What do you do there?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
His smile deepened. “That explains the new duds. I’d never mistake you for a rancher.”
That brought a smile, transforming her face from pretty to gorgeous. “My usual wardrobe runs to tailored suits and heels.
I figured I’d need something more practical for the week I plan on being here.”
“A week?”
She nodded. “My vacation time. Not exactly the way I’d hoped to be spending it. I haven’t been back to this place since I
was a kid. I honestly never expected to see it again.”
She lowered her voice. “As you can imagine, I’ve forgotten more than I can remember about ranch animals. The colt has a pronounced
limp. I thought I’d ask a vet to take a look and advise me as to the best way to…deal with it.” Her voice lowered to a near-whisper,
as though she were sharing state secrets. “If you have to euthanize the colt, I’d appreciate it if you would take it with
you rather than do it here. There’s the boy…” When she faltered, Jake waited until she composed herself. “My father’s sudden
death wasn’t my only surprise. I’ve learned that I have a half brother. I’m not sure of his birthday, but I’m guessing he’s
about seven. I suspect that he was alone here when our father had his heart attack. That may be why he doesn’t speak—at least
not to me. But he seems really attached to the colt. That’s why…” She looked at the ground. “…I’d rather not add to the boy’s
suffering.”
“All right.” Jake nodded toward the door. “Let’s have a look.”
She opened the barn door and led the way to a stall. As Jake’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see the colt lying in
the straw, its head cradled in the lap of a blond, shaggy-haired boy in dirty denims and an even dirtier T-shirt.
Meg’s tone was cautious. “Cory, this is Dr. Conway. I asked him to take a look at your colt.”
“Hey, Cory.” Jake knelt beside the boy and ran a hand gently over the colt’s forelock. “Does your horse have a name?”
The boy merely stared at him.
“Can your horse stand?”
Cory shuffled out from under the horse’s head and got to his feet before tugging gently on the animal’s mane.
The colt scrambled to its feet.
Jake pointed toward the door. “Would you mind leading him outside?”
Without a word the boy led the horse out into the sunshine, with Jake and Meg following.
The animal’s limp, Jake noted, was pronounced.
He watched as the boy led the colt in a wide circle. When they were close, Jake ran a hand along the animal’s neck. “He’s
a real beauty.”
The faintest flicker of a smile touched the boy’s eyes before he looked away.
“Has he always had this limp, or is it a recent injury?”
The boy shrugged.
Jake decided to try again. “Was he born with this problem, Cory?”
The boy shook his head.
“So, this happened recently?”
“Yeah.” The boy sighed, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
“Okay. It’s a start.” Relieved that the boy could speak, Jake glanced toward Meg.
She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the slight trembling, and he thought for a moment she might cry in relief. Instead
he saw her suck in a quick breath and compose herself.
Jake bent to the animal’s leg and began gently probing. When he touched one particular spot the colt flattened its ears and
sidestepped.
“Tender. Did your horse take a fall?”
The boy shook his head. “No.”
“Was he hit by something?”
The boy shrugged his thin shoulders.
“Maybe by a stone thrown by a truck?”
Seeing that the boy didn’t intend to reply, he added, “Maybe he was attacked by a flying saucer?”
That had Cory smiling before he ducked his head.
Jake glanced at Meg, who stood with her arms crossed, watching the interaction between the two with quiet intensity.
“All right. Let’s try something else. Walk him again, Cory.”
As the boy did so, Jake moved along beside the colt and probed not only the leg but the animal’s underbelly as he took each
step.
When he straightened, Meg asked in a low voice, “Will you be able to take him with you?”
Jake shrugged. “I’d like to try treating him here.”
“Treating? I thought…” She looked at Cory, then away before whispering, “I thought vets had to put down a horse when it was
lame.”
“I guess that was the treatment of choice back when women didn’t have the vote, and ranchers chewed tobacco and played poker
in the town saloon. Nowadays, ma’am,” he added in his best drawl, “you wouldn’t believe the miracle drugs we have.”
She had a rich, throaty laugh. “I guess I deserved that. All right, Dr. Conway. I’ll leave you to your patient. I have work
to do in the house.”
When she walked away Jake watched until she’d climbed the steps. Turning, he saw the boy staring at him.
He winked. “You’ve got a pretty sister, Cory.”
The boy hung his head and absently patted the colt.
Jake touched a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about the loss of your dad.”
Cory glanced up at him. There was an eager, almost hungry look in his eyes. “Did you know him?”
Jake shook his head. “Not really. I knew who he was, and saw him in town a time or two, but other than that, he was a stranger.
I guess he kept to himself a lot.”
The eager look in the boy’s eyes was gone in the instant before he looked away. “Yeah.”
After a pronounced silence, Jake sighed. “While you take this little guy back to the stall, I’ll get my bag of tricks.”
He walked away and retrieved his supplies from his truck. Spying the plate of brownies, he took them along.
In the barn he took his time, examining the colt while trying to find ways to engage the boy in conversation.
“How old are you, Cory?”
“Seven.” His gaze followed every movement of Jake’s fingers as he touched and probed the colt’s leg.
“That would make you a second grader?”
The boy shrugged. “Don’t go to school.”
“Yeah. I never did either, when I was your age. Too far to town.” He looked over. “So, you’re homeschooled. Did your dad teach
you?”
Another shrug. “Now that I can read, I get the lessons out of books and do my class assignments online.”
“Who checks your homework?”
“I scan it and send it to the teacher assigned to me.”
“Did anybody live here on the ranch with you and your dad?”
“Yancy. But he doesn’t live with us. He stays in the bunkhouse.”
Jake heard the warmth in the boy’s tone and nodded. He’d heard that Yancy Jessup had taken over some of the ranch duties after
Porter’s young wife died. Yancy was one of the last of a dying breed. A cowboy with no desire to own his own spread. An old
man who preferred living in a bunkhouse with other cowboys. A drifter who loved tending other rancher’s herds, until the itch
to move on became too great. Yancy Jessup had worked ranches all over Montana and Wyoming, and his work was universally praised.
Nobody had ever had a bad word to say about him.
“I suppose Yancy’s up in the hills with the herd?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know about your dad?”
The boy looked stricken, and Jake realized that the cowboy had no idea that his boss had passed away.
Jake pulled out his cell phone. “Give me his number and I’ll see that your sister calls him as soon as I’m finished here.”
As Cory spoke the numbers, Jake programmed them into his phone. “I’d call Yancy myself, but I think this call should come
from a family member.” He looked over. “Do you have a cell phone?”
Cory nodded.
“Good. While I’m thinking about it, why don’t I give you my number? That way, if you need me, just call.”
He spoke the numbers and watched as Cory punched them into his phone.
“Now give me yours.” Jake added the numbers as Cory said them aloud.
For the next hour, while Cory soothed the colt, Jake applied ointment and wrapped the injured leg. When he was finished, he
closed his bag and got to his feet.
“That’s the best I can do for now. I’ll look in on him tomorrow and see if he’s improving.”
The boy kept an arm around the colt’s neck. “His name is Shadow.”
Jake paused. “That’s a good name. And you’re a good friend to Shadow, Cory. I can see that he trusts you. Now I’d better report
to your sister.” He offered his hand. “Thanks for your help.”
The boy looked surprised before giving him an awkward handshake.
Jake pointed to the plate of brownies. “I’ll leave
—Parkersburg News and Sentinel (WV)
“A powerfully emotional tale that will connect with readers…Love a feel-good cowboy romance with a touch of suspense? Then
pick up Josh.”
—RomRevToday.com
“This story is action-packed and fast moving. Just when you think it’s safe, it isn’t…a good solid story with fantastic characters
and an interesting story line…Another really good romance with enough suspense to keep you waiting to see what will happen
next.”
—NightOwlReviews.com
“Ryan takes readers to Big Sky country in a big way with her vivid visual dialogue as she gives us a touching love story with
a mystery subplot. The characters, some good and one evil, will stay with you long after the book is closed.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Quinn is a satisfying read. R. C. Ryan is an accomplished and experienced storyteller. And if you enjoy contemporary cowboys in
a similar vein to Linda Lael Miller, you’ll enjoy this.”
—GoodReads.com
“Engaging…Ryan paints a picturesque image of the rugged landscape and the boisterous, loving, close-knit Conway family.”
—Publishers Weekly
“I thoroughly enjoyed reading about the Conway family and their ranch…a wonderful introduction to a new trilogy that looks
to be unique and full of surprises.”
—NightOwlReviews.com
“The child adds a lovely emotional element to the story, the secondary romance is enjoyable, and all loose ends are nicely
tied up.”
—RT Book Reviews
“[The Montana Trilogy] is a good series of hunky cowboys and nail-biting mystery. Zane and Riley have great chemistry and
are a read that you can’t put down.”
—Parkersburg News and Sentinel (WV)
“These not-to-be-missed books are guaranteed to warm your heart!”
—FreshFiction.com
“Wonderful romantic suspense tale starring a courageous heroine who is a lioness protecting her cub and a reluctant knight
in shining armor…a terrific taut thriller.”
—GenreGoRoundReviews.blogspot.com
“5 Stars! Watching this wild rebel and independent woman attempt to coexist was so much fun…The author, R. C. Ryan, delivers
an ongoing, tantalizing mystery suspense with heartwarming romance. Sinfully yummy!”
—HuntressReviews.com
“Ryan’s amazing genius at creating characters with heartfelt emotions, wit, and passion is awe-inspiring. I can’t wait until
Montana Glory comes out…so that I can revisit the McCord family!”
—TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“The series continues to intrigue, and each page brings you closer to finding the treasure. Another terrific story from R. C.
Ryan.”
—SingleTitles.com
“[A] wonderful series…The characters are extremely well developed…I couldn’t put this book down. I can’t wait until Zane’s
story comes out.”
—NightOwlReviews.com
“A captivating start to a new series.”
—BookPage
“Heart-melting sensuality…this engaging story skillfully refreshes a classic trilogy pattern and sets the stage for the stories
to come.”
—Library Journal
“Fabulous…a well-written story with fully developed characters that I easily came to care for.”
—HuntressReviews.com
“A fresh, entertaining tale that will keep you wanting to read more…We only get tantalizing hints of Wyatt and Zane, but I
can’t wait to read their stories.”
—RomRevToday.com
Prologue
Conway ranch—The Devil’s WildernessWyoming—1982
Quinn. Josh.” Big Jim Conway’s voice had his two grandsons looking up from their chores in the barn.
“Yes, sir?” Quinn paused, and the hose in his hand continued spilling water across the floor of the barn.
“Watch what you’re doing there, boyo.”
“Oh.” The boy turned off the spigot and dropped the hose. “Sorry.”
“Where’s your little brother?”
“Don’t know.” Quinn glanced guiltily toward his brother Josh, and the two boys waited for the explosion they knew would follow
that admission. Since the day their mother, Seraphine, had vanished without a trace two years earlier, they had been charged
with keeping a close eye on seven-year-old Jake. Not an easy job on a ranch this huge, especially since their youngest brother
had a habit of wandering off to find all sorts of mischief.
“Sorry, Big Jim.” The boys never called their grandfather by anything other than that. There were no warm, fuzzy nicknames
for this tough rancher, even by the youngest members of his family. “Last I saw Jake, he was out behind the barn.”
The old man walked away, muttering in frustration. A search of the area behind the barns came up empty, and Big Jim climbed
the hill to the spot where a gleaming headstone stood, with five smaller stones forming a semicircle around it.
As was his custom, the old man lay a gnarled hand on the headstone that marked the resting place of his wife, Clementine,
who had borne him six sons, five of whom had died in infancy. “I swear, Clemmy, that boy will be the death of me. He’s too
damned independent for his own good. Do you have any idea where he’s gone this time?”
As if in answer a small head popped up from the far side of the hill. Jake was carrying something in his arms that appeared
to weigh more than he did.
“What’s that you’ve got there, boyo?” As the boy drew closer Big Jim’s jaw dropped. “Is that what I think it is?”
“It’s a cougar, Big Jim. He’s just a little one, and he’s hurting.”
The old man’s growl was a combination of rage and fear. “Put that critter down before he devours you.”
The boy merely continued toward his grandfather. “I can help him, Big Jim.”
“I said put him down.”
The boy halted, then knelt in the grass before depositing the animal gently on the ground.
The old man ventured close enough to see that the young cougar was bloody and mangled, but still alive. “Looks like he tangled
with something big and ornery. Probably a mother bear, and the bear won.”
“His ma was dead.”
“You know that for a fact?”
The boy nodded. “Looks like she fought hard to save him. He was lying beside her, licking her face. Can I take him to the
barn and doctor him?”
“Listen to me, boyo.” The old man’s voice lowered, hoping to soften the blow. “It’s a fine thing you want to do. But this
is a wild critter. He may be too weak to keep you from doctoring him now, but if he should survive, once he’s well and strong,
he’ll do what wild things do. He’ll try to kill you. It’s his nature.”
Jake turned those wide, trusting eyes on his grandfather. “I know, Big Jim. But I still have to try to help. Look at him.
He’s hurting something bad. And he doesn’t have a ma either.”
And he doesn’t have a ma either.
The little boy’s words were a knife to Big Jim’s heart. How could he possibly refuse a motherless boy’s request to help a
motherless creature? Besides, there would be plenty of time for the lad to learn that nature could be cruel as well as beautiful.
“All right, boyo. I’ll help you build a cage and lend a hand with the doctoring. But you’re not to forget that he’s a wild
thing that sees other creatures as food. As soon as he’s strong enough, he’ll bite the hand that doctors him.”
“I won’t forget, Big Jim.” With great tenderness the boy lifted the heavy animal.
“Let me give you a hand with him.”
As the older man reached out, Jake shook his head. “I can do it.”
He carried the big cat toward the barn. Inside, he applied ointment to the worst of the bite marks, and then went in search
of Ela, an Arapaho woman who cooked for their family and had been with them since Big Jim’s wife, Clementine, had died some
thirty years earlier.
Ela showed Jake how to use a needle and some fine thread to close the gaping wounds and stem the bleeding until they could
heal.
For the next week Jake slept in the barn beside the cage his grandfather had made, and he even took his meals there, hand-feeding
the cougar and applying ointment whenever its curious tongue weakened the stitches and opened another wound. Jake’s father,
grandfather, and brothers reported hearing the lad talking to the animal late into the night.
A week later, when the young cougar had passed through the crisis and began to grow restless, Jake persuaded his grandfather
to load the cage into the jaws of their front-end loader and drive it out to the range, near where the animal had been found.
Once there, they deposited the cage on the ground and then sat trying to figure out how to open it without risking their own
safety.
“I’ll just lift up the door,” Jake said calmly.
“Like hell you will, boyo.” The old man shook a finger in his face. “You’ll stay up here on this machine with me, and we’ll
figure out a way to snag the door with a rope and hook.”
While his grandfather was pondering the situation, Jake jumped to the ground, walked to the front of the cage, and lifted
the door before stepping back.
For a moment the cougar stared at the boy, and then at the man, who was swearing a blue streak.
With a last look at the boy, the cougar calmly stepped out into freedom, before sprinting off.
Big Jim hurried to stand beside his grandson as the cougar made a great leap onto a rock ledge, where it lay panting in the
afternoon sunshine.
Before they could turn away, the cougar lifted a paw and began licking it. It seemed, to the old man, that the animal wasn’t
so much grooming itself as waving to the one who’d saved his life.
Or maybe, the old man thought, he was merely getting a bit dotty in his old age. After all, this predator would probably thank
them by killing off more of their cattle.
Still, he’d swear that young cat was smiling and purring. And all because an innocent lad with a passion for healing couldn’t
bear to see another living creature suffer.
Chapter One
Paintbrush, Wyoming—Present Day
Thanks, Jake.” The grizzled rancher pumped Jake Conway’s hand hard enough to have him wincing. “Figured old Scout here had
seen his last sunset. I tried every home remedy I could think of.” The old man grinned. “Hated having to give in and pay a
vet. You know how it is.”
Jake nodded in understanding. Every rancher in these parts knew how to birth a calf, treat a lame horse, and cure the hundred-and-one
things that could go wrong with ranch animals. A veterinarian was called only in extreme circumstances, or when an animal
had to be put down and its owner couldn’t bear to do the deed.
“Looks like I’d better start calling you Doc.” The old rancher winked at his teenage granddaughter, who was practically swooning
over the handsome young veterinarian as though he were a Greek god.
His wife, standing beside their daughter, thrust a covered plate into Jake’s hands. “Brownies,” the older woman said with
a shy smile. “Our Tina here baked them herself.”
“Thank you, Anna. And thank you, Tina. How’d you know about my sweet tooth?” Jake turned that famous Conway smile on both
females, who audibly sighed.
The old rancher couldn’t suppress a grin. The women in his household were all smitten with Cole Conway’s youngest son. Word
in the tiny town of Paintbrush was that Jake Conway had the same effect on every female there from sixteen to sixty. It had
been that way since Jake was twelve or thirteen, and still trailing his older brothers around town wearing a sweaty T-shirt,
dusty denims, and one of his grandfather’s cast-off frayed, wide-brimmed cowboy hats. As he’d matured, he’d grown into a tall,
muscled cowboy, whose rugged good looks were enhanced by a spill of curly black hair always in need of a trim, and devilish
blue eyes that sparkled with unmistakable humor. A big part of his charm was that good-natured, roguish smile. Women just gravitated to him like bees to honey.
“I guess what I’ve heard around town is the truth. You’re some kind of miracle worker.”
“Not me. I’ve got miracle drugs.” Jake smiled and patted his pocket before tucking away the syringe and vial. “Just doing
my job, Will.”
“The way I see it, thanks to that fancy vet school in Michigan, you’re doing it even better’n old Doc Hunger did. And that’s
saying something.”
Jake couldn’t hide his pleasure at the compliment. It meant the world to him that the ranchers accepted him without question.
Not an easy task when they still thought of the youngest Conway son as a lightweight compared to his father, grandfather,
and two older brothers.
At his truck, the two men shook hands again before Jake climbed inside and started toward home.
As he drove along the dusty road he played back his phone messages. One from Phoebe, their housekeeper, reminding him that
Ela was baking her famous corn bread to go with the ham she’d put in the oven, and he’d better not be late.
His mouth was watering as he played the second message, this one from his brother Quinn, reminding him of dinner Saturday
night as a surprise for his wife’s birthday, and that if Cheyenne had so much as an inkling of what was planned, he’d know
it was all Jake’s fault for having a big mouth.
Jake was still grinning as the third message began. A woman’s breathy voice, sounding either stressed or annoyed.
“This is Meg Stanford. I’ve just arrived at my father’s ranch to dispose of his estate, and there’s a colt out in the barn
that appears to be lame. I’m not sure there’s anything you can do for it, but I’d like you to…” The voice paused for so long,
Jake thought the call may have been interrupted. But then the message continued. “…do whatever it is you do with animals that
are beyond help.”
Unsure of what he’d heard, he played the message a second time before dismissing all thought of Ela’s corn bread and ham from
his mind. He made a sharp U-turn and headed toward the Stanford ranch.
As he drew near, it occurred to Jake that though Porter Stanford had been his family’s nearest neighbor, he’d never before
set foot on the property. He and his brothers had been warned when they were just boys that they were to stay clear of the
rancher, whose volatile temper was well-known around these parts.
In the town of Paintbrush gossip spread quicker than a prairie fire, and the juicy tales about Porter Stanford before his
sudden death days ago had all been negative. Folks around these parts just shook their heads over his hair-trigger temper,
the hellish life his two ex-wives had endured at his hands, all of which they’d been eager to share with anyone who would
listen, and of the fact that his third wife had been young enough to be his granddaughter. She’d died two years ago of a brain
hemorrhage, leaving Porter with a young son.
Jake wondered about the woman claiming to be Porter’s daughter. He could vaguely recall hearing about a wild child who matched
her father in looks and temperament. But that was years ago, before Porter’s very public first divorce, when she and her mother,
Virginia, had taken themselves off to parts unknown.
Jake turned his truck onto the lane that led to the rustic ranch house. Nestled on a bluff, the house overlooked some of the
richest grazing land in the territory. Now in early spring, the land was just turning green and was dotted with buds of Indian
paintbrush and towering cottonwood. No wonder Porter Stanford had thought of himself as a king and all of Wyoming as his fiefdom.
Maybe, Jake thought with sudden insight, that was another reason why Stanford had a particular dislike of the Conway family.
Not only were they his nearest neighbors, but they owned all the land around him, leaving him unable to expand his kingdom.
Jake followed the curving driveway to the back door of the house and stepped out of his truck. A sleek, candy-apple-red rental
car was parked beside the porch.
He climbed the wide porch steps and knocked.
A sexy female voice called, “Come in.”
He stepped into a kitchen offering a spectacular view of the Tetons in the distance. Finding no one there, he stepped through
the open doorway into a massive great room, where a woman was walking toward him, carrying a cardboard box that was bigger
than she.
“Hello.” Though he couldn’t see the face, the view from the waist down was enticing. A tiny waist and long, long legs encased
in narrow denims.
“Oh. Hello. If you want to take a look at the farm implements, you may as well start tagging the things out in the second
barn.”
“You’re planning an auction?”
She peered around the box. “Aren’t you from the auction house?”
“No. Sorry. I’m the vet. Here. Let me help you.” He took the box from her hands. “Where do you want this?”
“The kitchen table will be fine.” She led the way and Jake followed.
As he set down the heavy box he shot her a grin. “What’ve you got in there? A safe?”
She sighed. “Sorry. I should have warned you. I found several locked metal boxes in an upstairs room and thought I’d bring
them down before opening them to see what’s inside.” She offered her hand. “I’m Meg Stanford.”
Jake accepted her handshake and took the moment to study her. She had her father’s fiery red hair, pulled back into a ponytail,
and green eyes the color of prairie grass.
“Jake Conway.” He was fascinated by her lips. Soft, pursed lips that, though bare of makeup, were absolutely enticing. “I’m
sorry about your loss.”
“Thank you.” She spoke the words in a flat, unemotional tone. “You said you were the vet. I was expecting Dr. Hunger.”
“He retired. His service directs his calls to me.”
“I see.” She nodded toward the door. “I’ll take you to the barn.”
Jake trailed behind her, enjoying the view of her trim backside in the shiny, new denims. They were so crisp they looked as
though they’d just come off a store rack, as did the cotton shirt buttoned clear to her throat and tucked precisely into the
waistband.
He glanced at her feet. Even the sneakers were brand-new, though they wouldn’t remain that way once she stepped into the barn.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since this morning.”
“Where are you from?”
She paused, her hand on the barn door. “Washington.”
“As in Spokane?”
She smiled. “As in D.C.”
“You’re a long way from home. What do you do there?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
His smile deepened. “That explains the new duds. I’d never mistake you for a rancher.”
That brought a smile, transforming her face from pretty to gorgeous. “My usual wardrobe runs to tailored suits and heels.
I figured I’d need something more practical for the week I plan on being here.”
“A week?”
She nodded. “My vacation time. Not exactly the way I’d hoped to be spending it. I haven’t been back to this place since I
was a kid. I honestly never expected to see it again.”
She lowered her voice. “As you can imagine, I’ve forgotten more than I can remember about ranch animals. The colt has a pronounced
limp. I thought I’d ask a vet to take a look and advise me as to the best way to…deal with it.” Her voice lowered to a near-whisper,
as though she were sharing state secrets. “If you have to euthanize the colt, I’d appreciate it if you would take it with
you rather than do it here. There’s the boy…” When she faltered, Jake waited until she composed herself. “My father’s sudden
death wasn’t my only surprise. I’ve learned that I have a half brother. I’m not sure of his birthday, but I’m guessing he’s
about seven. I suspect that he was alone here when our father had his heart attack. That may be why he doesn’t speak—at least
not to me. But he seems really attached to the colt. That’s why…” She looked at the ground. “…I’d rather not add to the boy’s
suffering.”
“All right.” Jake nodded toward the door. “Let’s have a look.”
She opened the barn door and led the way to a stall. As Jake’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could see the colt lying in
the straw, its head cradled in the lap of a blond, shaggy-haired boy in dirty denims and an even dirtier T-shirt.
Meg’s tone was cautious. “Cory, this is Dr. Conway. I asked him to take a look at your colt.”
“Hey, Cory.” Jake knelt beside the boy and ran a hand gently over the colt’s forelock. “Does your horse have a name?”
The boy merely stared at him.
“Can your horse stand?”
Cory shuffled out from under the horse’s head and got to his feet before tugging gently on the animal’s mane.
The colt scrambled to its feet.
Jake pointed toward the door. “Would you mind leading him outside?”
Without a word the boy led the horse out into the sunshine, with Jake and Meg following.
The animal’s limp, Jake noted, was pronounced.
He watched as the boy led the colt in a wide circle. When they were close, Jake ran a hand along the animal’s neck. “He’s
a real beauty.”
The faintest flicker of a smile touched the boy’s eyes before he looked away.
“Has he always had this limp, or is it a recent injury?”
The boy shrugged.
Jake decided to try again. “Was he born with this problem, Cory?”
The boy shook his head.
“So, this happened recently?”
“Yeah.” The boy sighed, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
“Okay. It’s a start.” Relieved that the boy could speak, Jake glanced toward Meg.
She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the slight trembling, and he thought for a moment she might cry in relief. Instead
he saw her suck in a quick breath and compose herself.
Jake bent to the animal’s leg and began gently probing. When he touched one particular spot the colt flattened its ears and
sidestepped.
“Tender. Did your horse take a fall?”
The boy shook his head. “No.”
“Was he hit by something?”
The boy shrugged his thin shoulders.
“Maybe by a stone thrown by a truck?”
Seeing that the boy didn’t intend to reply, he added, “Maybe he was attacked by a flying saucer?”
That had Cory smiling before he ducked his head.
Jake glanced at Meg, who stood with her arms crossed, watching the interaction between the two with quiet intensity.
“All right. Let’s try something else. Walk him again, Cory.”
As the boy did so, Jake moved along beside the colt and probed not only the leg but the animal’s underbelly as he took each
step.
When he straightened, Meg asked in a low voice, “Will you be able to take him with you?”
Jake shrugged. “I’d like to try treating him here.”
“Treating? I thought…” She looked at Cory, then away before whispering, “I thought vets had to put down a horse when it was
lame.”
“I guess that was the treatment of choice back when women didn’t have the vote, and ranchers chewed tobacco and played poker
in the town saloon. Nowadays, ma’am,” he added in his best drawl, “you wouldn’t believe the miracle drugs we have.”
She had a rich, throaty laugh. “I guess I deserved that. All right, Dr. Conway. I’ll leave you to your patient. I have work
to do in the house.”
When she walked away Jake watched until she’d climbed the steps. Turning, he saw the boy staring at him.
He winked. “You’ve got a pretty sister, Cory.”
The boy hung his head and absently patted the colt.
Jake touched a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about the loss of your dad.”
Cory glanced up at him. There was an eager, almost hungry look in his eyes. “Did you know him?”
Jake shook his head. “Not really. I knew who he was, and saw him in town a time or two, but other than that, he was a stranger.
I guess he kept to himself a lot.”
The eager look in the boy’s eyes was gone in the instant before he looked away. “Yeah.”
After a pronounced silence, Jake sighed. “While you take this little guy back to the stall, I’ll get my bag of tricks.”
He walked away and retrieved his supplies from his truck. Spying the plate of brownies, he took them along.
In the barn he took his time, examining the colt while trying to find ways to engage the boy in conversation.
“How old are you, Cory?”
“Seven.” His gaze followed every movement of Jake’s fingers as he touched and probed the colt’s leg.
“That would make you a second grader?”
The boy shrugged. “Don’t go to school.”
“Yeah. I never did either, when I was your age. Too far to town.” He looked over. “So, you’re homeschooled. Did your dad teach
you?”
Another shrug. “Now that I can read, I get the lessons out of books and do my class assignments online.”
“Who checks your homework?”
“I scan it and send it to the teacher assigned to me.”
“Did anybody live here on the ranch with you and your dad?”
“Yancy. But he doesn’t live with us. He stays in the bunkhouse.”
Jake heard the warmth in the boy’s tone and nodded. He’d heard that Yancy Jessup had taken over some of the ranch duties after
Porter’s young wife died. Yancy was one of the last of a dying breed. A cowboy with no desire to own his own spread. An old
man who preferred living in a bunkhouse with other cowboys. A drifter who loved tending other rancher’s herds, until the itch
to move on became too great. Yancy Jessup had worked ranches all over Montana and Wyoming, and his work was universally praised.
Nobody had ever had a bad word to say about him.
“I suppose Yancy’s up in the hills with the herd?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know about your dad?”
The boy looked stricken, and Jake realized that the cowboy had no idea that his boss had passed away.
Jake pulled out his cell phone. “Give me his number and I’ll see that your sister calls him as soon as I’m finished here.”
As Cory spoke the numbers, Jake programmed them into his phone. “I’d call Yancy myself, but I think this call should come
from a family member.” He looked over. “Do you have a cell phone?”
Cory nodded.
“Good. While I’m thinking about it, why don’t I give you my number? That way, if you need me, just call.”
He spoke the numbers and watched as Cory punched them into his phone.
“Now give me yours.” Jake added the numbers as Cory said them aloud.
For the next hour, while Cory soothed the colt, Jake applied ointment and wrapped the injured leg. When he was finished, he
closed his bag and got to his feet.
“That’s the best I can do for now. I’ll look in on him tomorrow and see if he’s improving.”
The boy kept an arm around the colt’s neck. “His name is Shadow.”
Jake paused. “That’s a good name. And you’re a good friend to Shadow, Cory. I can see that he trusts you. Now I’d better report
to your sister.” He offered his hand. “Thanks for your help.”
The boy looked surprised before giving him an awkward handshake.
Jake pointed to the plate of brownies. “I’ll leave
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