Chapter One
“C’mon, Lightning. Faster.” Melody Bennett leaned forward and whipped the leather reins.
The chocolate-brown stallion switched from a controlled three-beat canter to a four-beat gallop. The muscles in his back flexed as he sped across the fertile, grassy pasture.
“That’s my boy.”
Lightning neighed and galloped even faster.
Her heart soared. She tightened her grip on the reins. The wind stung her cheeks and loosened strands of her curly blonde hair from her ponytail. The noon sun blazed hot in the clear August sky and prickled her skin. Why had she forgotten her hat?
After about a mile, she slowed him to an amble—the natural four-beat gait for the Rocky Mountain breed. She’d trained him since he was a colt, and though she cared and provided for many horses at Bennett Ranch, Lightning was her baby.
She snorted and stroked his thick, flaxen mane. Baby, indeed.
The sweet ten-year-old horse was one of the biggest horses on the ranch, weighing in at over a thousand pounds and reaching sixteen hands high, or approximately sixty-four inches.
She adored him, and besides, she would probably never have children of her own. Love, romance, and relationships—it wasn’t in the cards for her. She had a few close friends in her small community of Willow Creek, Montana, but why bother with lying, no-good men?
She pulled the reins and stopped the horse at the end of the pasture. The rich scent of evergreen wafted from the forest beyond the fence and tickled her nostrils. She tugged the reins again, and the horse turned to face the way they’d come. What a sight.
Forty-plus acres of low rolling hills spread before her. A white four-rail fence that she’d painted dozens of times encircled the property and divided the acreage into four ten-acre pastures. The stable, family house, and dormitory dotted the center like white stones among a field of brown and green. A long driveway cut between the front two pastures and opened onto the road that led to Willow Creek and the neighboring town of Livingston.
Four generations of her family had worked, cared for, and lived on Bennett Ranch. Her brothers, Dave and Steve, and their pregnant wives would ensure the family line continued.
Lord knew Melody wouldn’t, to her mother’s dismay.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. At least her father understood her need for independence and her cautious attitude toward men, but he was partially to blame for the latter. If she continued to follow her criteria to the letter, she would likely remain alone forever. Fine with her. She was better off single than trapped in a loveless marriage with an unfaithful husband.
She whipped the reins, and Lightning raced across the field. Her gut twisted with old hurt. Damn you, Max. Screw you, Harvey.
Her father had scared Max off years earlier, and now her mother was pushing Melody to give the cheating scumbag, Harvey, a second chance.
No way! Harvey was dead to her. If only the same rang true for Max Fortaine.
She’d given him her love, but after he abandoned her, she built a wall around her heart. Neither Harvey nor the others she’d dated after Max were up to par with her standards—a strict criterion she measured all her boyfriends with. Why were good cowboys so hard to find?
Lightning ambled across toward the homestead. A few other horses grazed in the pasture, and one of them neighed as Lightning hurried past.
After she steered him toward an open water trough, she slid from his back and dropped the heavy saddle and bridle on the ground. The horse drank from the clean water as she lifted his legs one at a time to check for possible injuries from the ride. Though she and the ranch hands inspected and cleaned the fields often, she never knew when or what kind of debris would scratch a horse’s leg or pierce the hoof.
Good. He was fine. She pressed a kiss to her faithful stallion’s nose, hoisted the gear to her side with one arm, and left him in the pasture. Avoiding the gate and the ranch hands working near it, she tossed the saddle and bridle over the fence that separated the rich field from a hard, sterile plot. Then she climbed over the sturdy rails and heaved the items back into her arms.
No one maintained the sacrifice area—the land that consisted of the stable, paddocks, and two houses—as they did the pastures. What was the point? The horses never grazed there.
Her mother, however, treated the flowers and rhododendrons around the main house like a precious foal.
Melody headed to Lightning’s individual paddock—a rectangular-shaped, fenced-in pen that led to his stable stall—and pressed her free hand to the ground. The dirt and top layer of sand was solid and hard. Good. The paddock bordered two others, and she checked the ground in those as well. Since she’d shoveled manure out of Lightning’s paddock and disposed of the wet bedding in his stall that morning, she hadn’t bothered to check the ground then.
She entered the stall through the Dutch door and blinked several times to adjust to the dim light. The pump system cranked from the lofty ceiling rafters and pushed out cool air. She lifted her ponytail from her sweaty nape to catch a breeze. Ooh, nice. The insulated metal roof repelled heat during the summer and retained it during winter. Good thing, too, for the horses and workers. She latched the door behind her and stored the gear on a shelf.
Her stomach rumbled. Served her right for skipping lunch. She dusted dirt from her jeans and grimaced. Okay, clean up first. Then eat.
In the washroom, she splashed cool water on her face and downed a mouthful. Blinking back the liquid clinging to her eyelids, she scrubbed her hands, arms, and face with a bar of soap. Suds stung her eyes, and she washed the lather away.
She left the room as voices echoed from the canteen across the hall.
“Miss Melody did what?”
She froze. Dread crept up her spine. Who was talking about her? Why couldn’t the ranch hands see her as one of the guys, as they did Dave and Steve? Even though she sometimes joined the workers for snacks or beer, they always tamed their raunchy mouths around her.
“I never thought she would do somethin’ like that,” a man stated in a gruff tone. “She’s weird around men when it comes to datin’ ’em.”
“That’s why.” Angus—she recognized that voice!
He’d worked on the ranch for over twenty years and was her father’s most trusted confidant. The tall, heavyset lead ranch hand oversaw productions whenever Wayne Bennett traveled for work, which was pretty dang often.
“Her daddy kicked that drifter off the ranch after he caught the man and his daughter naked in an empty paddock, covered in hay.”
Her cheeks warmed. Oh, God. Why in the world was Angus gossiping about her and Max? Run. She shouldn’t let the men know she was eavesdropping. Then again, she had nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone made mistakes. With a deep breath, she strode into the room.
Parry and Bart jumped from an old sofa. Their faces mottled red. They tugged their hats off their heads and glanced down at their worn boots.
Angus straightened from his lean against the wall. His thick chest heaved as he breathed.
Melody crossed her arms and scowled at Angus. “You’ve seen Max?”
He nodded, his cheeks flaming redder than his shock of auburn hair. “Early this morning in Bozeman, ma’am. He entered the blacksmith’s shop as I was leavin’. We talked a bit and that was it.”
She fisted her hands and dug her nails against her skin. He’d finally returned after ten long years. What the hell was she supposed to do now?
“What did you talk about?” She swallowed hard, leveling her shaky voice. “Why is he here?”
“Now, Miss Melody, I really shouldn’t—”
She bristled. “Don’t you Miss or ma’am me, Angus.” If the man was gonna gossip behind her back and treat her like the boss’s daughter, then she would act like the boss’s freaking daughter. “Tell me. You probably would have told them if I hadn’t interrupted.” She held out her arm toward the men who’d been working on the property for the past three years. “I’m more than happy to hear the rest of your little tale.”
He sighed. The creases bracketing his eyes deepened. “All right. Max bought the old Two-Step Ranch in Bozeman about six months ago. He only has two horses, but he wants to open the ranch by spring.”
Her heart lurched. Had Angus plunged his hand inside her chest and ripped out the thumping organ? She checked the floor for good measure. Nope. No blood or proof that the mere mention of Max Fortaine still had the power to yank the rug out from underneath her.
Angus shifted his feet, his boots clomping. “He plans to stop by Willow Creek sometime for unfinished business. Didn’t say what kind.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Easy, now. No crying. “Do my parents know about this?”
He rubbed his whiskered, sagging jowl. “Nah, I don’t think so. Max seemed upset that I saw him, like he doesn’t want anyone from around here to know he’s back.”
“Okay. Don’t tell my dad, at least not yet. I don’t want to hear one of his lectures.”
“I won’t, and you two won’t either.” He glared at the men across the room.
“Shucks, Angus. Of course not.” Parry scratched his scalp, ruffling his matted dark hair.
“My lips are sealed.” Bart bobbed his head at Angus and Melody.
Angus blushed again and met Melody’s gaze. “Sorry about my big mouth, ma’am. I can’t rein it in sometimes.”
A tight smile stretched her lips. Her father’s friend gossiped worse than most of the women she knew. Everyone would know about Maximilian Fortaine’s return within the week.
She left the canteen. Every fiber in her body demanded answers. She headed into the house, snuck past the living room where her mother and sisters-in-law were chatting, and grabbed her purse from her bedroom. Should she shower and change her clothes? Nah. If she procrastinated, she’d probably lose her nerve.
After she powered up her old silver truck, she hit the road to Bozeman.
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