Her Man On Three Rivers Ranch. Stella BagwellЧитать онлайн книгу.
a secretary to the superintendent at St. Francis Academy. A private school over on South Saguaro.”
“You said earlier that you liked your job. Have you been there long?”
Had he always been this tall and dark? This strong and broad-shouldered? Everything about him seemed magnified ten times over since she’d last seen him. But then a man could change greatly in a matter of a few years, she thought. Her late husband was proof of that.
She answered, “Almost three years. I went to work there shortly after I returned to Wickenburg. Juggling my job and caring for my dad wasn’t easy, but I managed.”
“School will be out soon,” he remarked. “Will you have to work during the summer?”
“Only for half of each workday. I’m looking forward to having the extra time to do things with Nick. He wants to go camping.”
“Most little boys do. My brothers and I used to put up a tent out behind the cattle barn and pretend we were miles away on some lonesome mesa. That way we had to worry and watch for coyotes and mountain lions. Sometimes that was hard to do, though, when a pen of weanling calves was bawling right next to us.”
Katherine chuckled. “No doubt it was still an adventure for you. I’m not sure Nick is ready to sleep out in the backyard on his own, though.”
His smile knowing, he glanced at her. “I have an idea it’s more like his mother isn’t ready for Nick to sleep outdoors.”
She sighed. “I confess. I have sheltered him somewhat,” she admitted. “It would be different if he had siblings. But that never happened.”
Katherine had no idea why she’d added that last bit of information. Blake wasn’t interested in her past family life. He was simply carrying on a polite conversation. He didn’t care that all of her hopes and dreams for a big family had vanished as Cliff had turned away from her and buried himself in his job.
“Well, at least you have one child,” he said. “That’s more than I have.”
She started to ask him if he still hoped to have a family someday, but a quick glance ahead told her they’d reached the bank building. Which was probably a good thing. She didn’t need to know about Blake’s wants or wishes. It was none of her business whether he had a special woman in his life now, or even if he was looking to find one. Money in the bank and a closet full of fine clothes didn’t change the fact that her maiden name was Anderson.
“Here we are,” she said in an overly bright voice. “Thanks again for the coffee, Blake. And please tell your family hello for me. Especially your gracious mother.”
He released his hold on her arm, but instead of stepping away, he reached for her hand and lifted it to the middle of his chest. “I’d really like it, Katherine, if you’d come out and have dinner with me at Three Rivers.”
Was he serious? Her gaze roamed his face as she tried to figure out the motive behind his invitation. Was he simply being polite? She couldn’t think of any other reason.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose on your family.”
He frowned. “Don’t be silly. They’d all be glad to see you. But if you’d rather, we could go somewhere else for dinner.”
Totally bemused now, she looked around her, then back at him. “Are you asking me for a date, Blake?”
Her question caused his square jaw to turn a shade darker. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Why? Is there anything wrong in that?”
Only that she was the daughter of one of the town’s worst drunks. It didn’t matter that Avery Anderson was dead and gone now. That didn’t change the fact of Katherine’s upbringing.
Stuttering, she tried to give him a reasonable answer. “Uh, well, it’s just that I—Dating is something I don’t do. I mean, not very often.”
“Then you need to let me change that.”
Her heart was suddenly tripping over itself. Blake Hollister wanted to take her on a date! If such a thing had happened twelve years ago, she would’ve fallen over in a dead faint. And she was darned close to it now.
“I don’t—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “You’ve already said you don’t date very often. Well, I don’t, either. So that puts us on equal footing.”
If possible, her heart leaped into an even faster gait. “I suppose I could think about it,” she hedged. “And you could give me a call.”
“Great!” He dropped her hand and pulled a smartphone from his pocket. “Give me your number. Or are you in the book?”
“No landline.” She gave him the number. “That’s my cell. And I can’t answer during working hours.”
“Don’t worry,” he said with a grin. “I’ll call at a respectable time. And soon.”
Completely flustered now, she tugged the strap of her handbag higher onto her shoulder. “I really have to run, Blake. Goodbye.”
Stepping around him, she practically ran into the bank building. But as soon as she reached the lobby, she paused and looked through the darkened plateglass wall overlooking the street.
Blake’s tall, commanding figure was sauntering toward a black pickup truck covered with gray dust. As she watched him climb into the vehicle, then back it into the street, she decided she didn’t have anything to worry about. Blake would never call her. In fact, before the day was over, she’d bet he would delete her number from his phone and forget all about her.
And that was the way she wanted it, she thought as she continued through the lobby and straight to the nearest teller. She wasn’t about to let Blake Hollister, or any man, start filling her head or her heart with romantic dreams.
No. She had more important things to do. Like raising her son. And trying to forget that she was responsible for her husband’s death.
“What are we doing here, Joe?” Blake asked cynically as he and his younger brother trudged through a narrow gulch filled with rocks and sage. “I mean, we come out here every couple of weeks and poke around like a pair of old prospectors looking for gold. And we have about as much chance of finding anything as those dream chasers did a hundred and fifty years ago.”
“We’re not looking for gold, Blake,” Joseph bluntly reminded him. “We’re looking for some sort of clue to solve our father’s death.”
“Just because Holt found our dad’s spur rowel here in this same gulch back in February, doesn’t mean we’ll find anything else,” Blake reasoned. “Besides, I’ve been thinking. Dad could have already been hanging from the stirrup when Major Bob galloped through this gulch and the rowel was raked off by a rock or bush. Whatever caused him to lose his seat in the saddle could’ve happened a long way from here.”
“That’s true,” Joseph replied. “But I don’t think so. I think he met someone here in the gulch or at the well pump. It’s only about twenty yards from here.”
Joseph had worked as a deputy sheriff for Yavapai County for more than ten years and his mind operated in a different way than Blake’s.
Straightening away from the gravel bed where he’d been searching, Blake tugged his straw cowboy hat lower over his forehead. Midafternoon in Arizona was usually hot at this time of year and today was no exception. Even with his eyes shaded by a pair of dark aviator glasses and the brim of his cowboy hat, the brightness of the sun caused him to squint as he looked across the rocky slope to where his brother stood.
“It’s been five years, Joe. Maybe it’s time we gave up.”
Joseph stared at him for a long, awkward moment, then