Prologue
Prologue
Anger and indignation filled her as she listened to the new hands talk about her as if she wasn’t there. She let go of the mare’s hoof and leaned against her as she took in their words. “Unable to handle the workload” and “too weak to keep up with a man.”
Her temper snapped as she stood, her eyes sending bolts of lightning into the stable hand who had decided she wasn’t fit to run the ranch. She walked slowly toward him, her fists balling at her sides as she approached. She didn’t say a word. None was needed. The set of her jaw, clenched teeth and fierce eyes said enough as she pulled back and plunged her fist into the man’s jaw. He flew backward, hit the side of the stall and slipped to the floor.
She wasn’t going to stand around and allow one of her own men to tell her she wasn’t good enough to run her own ranch. She stepped back into the stall she had been in, grabbed the reins of her mare, mounted her and flew out of the stable without looking back as the other hands helped the poor man to his feet. The fury in her heart and the throbbing pain in her hand drove her away from the stable and toward her sanctuary.
His shirt stuck to his back. The heat of the sun beat down on him as the wind blew dust into his face while he rode his black stallion along the property line. The horses were too busy grazing in the mid-afternoon heat to notice the men around them as they did their monthly head count.
Lucas took his hat off and wiped the sweat from his brow as he squinted and looked across the dry land toward the main house. He was home. After four years of working in the office in Billings, taking care of the business from there, he was back where he belonged.
He had sworn he wouldn’t come back and that he couldn’t work with the old man again, but she was the one who had reasoned with him, who had made him see that he was needed here, that this was where he belonged. Only his mother could convince him to return after the rift between him and his father. Only one reason had made him rethink his decision.
The old man was sick.
No, he thought. Dying.
After all these years, when he had believed for so long that the man was indestructible, his mother had told him his father was dying and needed him.
Nothing could have brought him back to the Circle M faster than hearing that Matthew Sterling was dying.
Lucas was all cowboy. His brown hair was streaked with bits of blond from the hours he put in every day riding beneath the harsh sun. His skin was well tanned and his hands were toughened from the hard labor of working the land. He had only been back home for a week, but he was already back in the swing of things.
His jeans were worn and could stand to be replaced, as could his broken-in boots. His shirt was wet along his chest and down the center of his back from hours of sweating in the sun. His black Stetson rested low on his brow, blocking the sun from his eyes and shadowing the deep blue beneath, adding an air of mystery to his already handsome features. His jaw was set as he scanned the horses, the routine of the ranch already set in his mind.
He had joined the hands that morning, feeding the animals and cleaning out the stalls. He was a firm believer that you didn’t ask a man to do a job if you were able to do it yourself. Lucas had hated being cooped up in that office pushing papers for the last four years. He loved being out on the land, riding his stallion, breaking the new horses and training them for the races, working the land.
That was what made the Circle M different from many of the ranches around the area. The owners worked the land with the rest of the ranch hands. His father had made sure he knew every aspect of running the ranch. He couldn’t turn the land over to Lucas without making sure he could handle it, from the books to the cattle to the racehorses. Lucas had proven he could handle it and more, but Matthew hadn’t been willing to let it go just yet. Lucas had spent four years in college, worked in Billings for the last four and was now back doing what he knew, what was in his blood and what he loved.
Thoughts of his father still running through his mind, he turned toward the neighboring ranch, McCabe’s Landing. The families had been feuding for thirty years or more, and he wondered if the feud was still going on. Never in his life had he met two more stubborn men than Matthew Sterling and Trent McCabe. They were made of the same cloth, which only provoked the altercations all the more.
He had heard of the brawls between the ranch hands, the horse thieves from each ranch, the cutting of property lines and cattle rustling. Some of the ranch hands who had been around for years would tell stories over the fire about the feud to the hands who had just signed on with the ranch.
He watched the hands pushing the herd on the other side of the property line to the west when his eyes narrowed at a sight that was unheard of on either of the ranches.
She leaned over the neck of the honey-colored mare as dirt was tossed up in a wake behind her. Her long blond hair flowed behind her as she rode her mare hard across the range. He could see she was heading north to the edge of the property, where the two ranches met. It was an area no one used and the herds stayed away from.
Turning his stallion, he was struck by her image. His heart pounded and his gut tightened as his eyes followed her until she disappeared into the trees. Curiosity getting the best of him, Lucas heeled his stallion and headed in her direction.
She was angry, tired and hot. She wanted time alone, away from the ranch hands, the cattle and the horses. She needed to relax.
Adeline McCabe had taken over McCabe’s Landing three months ago when her uncle decided he was tired and wanted to retire. Raising racehorses and cattle was a hard business. She hadn’t been brought up on the ranch, but she learned quickly and had been taking over the ranch bit by bit during the last year. The hardest part was getting the ranch hands to see her with any kind of authority. A woman’s place was in the kitchen, or barefoot and pregnant, as most of the hands had made clear to her. She knew she would have to dig in her heels for years before she could break the image they had in their heads.
Her uncle was as stubborn as they came and had made the decision that he wanted her to take over the ranch whether she wanted it or not. Fortunately, she wanted it. Trent McCabe had inherited McCabe’s Landing from his father and, with no children of his own, decided to turn it over to the only child in the family and the only member who wanted it—his sister’s daughter, Adeline.
She had grown up in the city, but the more she visited McCabe’s Landing, the more she felt that was where she belonged. As she took over, the men didn’t feel the same way about where she belonged. Every day she was up before dawn and in bed well after midnight. She worked the land alongside every one of the men during the day and worked the books every night. She hired new hands as she needed them and didn’t rely on a single one to back her up.
Hank Dedson, one of her uncle’s friends and one of the oldest hands on the ranch, had told her that the men wouldn’t take to a woman running a ranch. It would take longer days, harder work and a firmer hand for her to gain their loyalty. She was prepared for it and ready to face each and every one of them head-on.
She had more problems that morning than she wanted to deal with. She was missing twenty head of cattle, the plane she had purchased had broken down again, one of the mares had difficulty while giving birth before dawn and, on top of that, some of the hands were getting restless.
She was in need of a break after being told once again that a ranch was no place for a woman and that she should go home. She had punched the hand who muttered those words right before she jumped on Juliet, her mare, and raced for the pond at the edge of the property line.
That was her spot. Since she was a child, she had gone there for peace of mind, and that was where she would always find it.
She pulled her mare to a halt as she reached the clearing and dismounted, letting Juliet drink from the stream as she sat down, pulled off her hat and ran her sore hand through her hair. Taking over the ranch was harder than she thought it would be.
The question was—was she tough enough to stick it out?
Lucas stopped his stallion before coming into the clearing and waited in the distance as he watched her. She rubbed her hand and flexed her fingers as if trying to ease the pain. Whatever had happened before she came racing across the range, he had a feeling her sore hand had something to do with it.
He stayed on his side of the property line, behind the trees and out of her view, watching her bend down over the pond and splash cool water on her face.
“Luke... you’re toying with trouble if you’re thinking what I think you are,” Travis said as he rode up next to him.
Travis and Lucas had grown up together on the ranch. He was the ranch manager’s son and was now being groomed to take over the position when his father retired.
“Who is she?” Lucas asked, not taking his eyes off her.
“McCabe’s niece. You think Darlin’ Devil’s bad? She’s nothing next to that little filly. Nasty temper on that one,” Travis said as Lucas glanced at him.
“What’s she doing out here?” He was curious. In all the time he had spent on the ranch, he’d never seen her before.
“She runs the place now.” Travis shifted in the saddle. “Seems McCabe wanted to retire. Having no children of his own, she was the one he wanted to take over. She’s been running the place for about three months now. Having a hell of a time, too. Seems the men aren’t taking too kindly to a woman being in charge.”
“She’s definitely a woman.” Lucas’s lips curved as he went back to studying her while she attempted to calm herself.
Her fingers tangled in her long blond hair while she rested her forehead against her knees. Her hat had fallen to the ground beside her while she took several deep breaths. Her white cotton shirt was damp with sweat and had turned a shade of tan from the dust and grime. She cupped some of the cool water in her hands and ran it over her face. Her jeans were worn and faded as she brushed her wet hands over her thighs. Her skin was a golden tan, and her eyes were as blue as the sky as she looked up at the clouds and took a deep breath.
“She may look like a woman from here, but McCabe taught her to be as tough as any man. She wouldn’t think twice about belting you one, Luke. She’s been known to kick, bite and punch with the best.” Travis patted his shoulder. “Beauty and brawn are a dangerous combination, Luke. Come on. As nice as the view is, we’ve got work to get to.”
Lucas didn’t reply but simply nodded. He wanted to know more about her and about McCabe’s retirement. Something in her eyes held onto him, tugged at him. He turned back and looked at her once more before riding off. She was definitely someone he needed to know more about.
He was curious why the old man hadn’t simply put the ranch up for sale instead of risking it on someone who could possibly run it into the ground. He knew he could only get so much information from his own men, and he would make sure he paid the new owner of McCabe’s Landing a visit soon to get the rest of the story.
