Her Holiday Rancher. Cathy Mcdavid

Her Holiday Rancher - Cathy Mcdavid


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the archway and around the corner. It was between Josh Dempsey and his brother Cole.

      “What am I going to do with one-third of the ranch?” Cole demanded irritably. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything that belonged to him.”

      “Let’s get our copy of the will and read through it,” Josh suggested. “The terms may not be ironclad.”

      “You heard what the attorney said.”

      Cole had understood correctly. The will was ironclad. August had been thorough, perhaps anticipating a conflict.

      “Maybe we can contest it.”

      “And where are we going to find the money for that?” Cole scoffed. “Getting custody of your kids drained your bank account.”

      Reese recalled reading the background information Hector had provided on the Dempsey brothers. According to the report, Josh was locked in a bitter legal battle with his ex-wife over custody of their two young children.

      “Take it easy, Cole. My financial problems aren’t what’s making you mad.”

      “You’re right. I don’t want to be here, and I’m sorry we came.”

      “Give it another day or two. We’ll figure out a way to get your money.”

      “Our money, you mean. Don’t forget, brother, you want your share as badly as I want mine. Attorneys aren’t cheap.”

      Reese retreated, concerned by what she’d heard. Growing up in Mustang Valley, she knew about August’s first family and that there was no love lost between him and his sons. But he must have wanted to make amends. Why else would he have modified his will six months ago? Obviously, his two sons didn’t appreciate the gesture.

      Should she tell Gabe? Was it her place? No, probably not. But nothing stopped her from dropping a hint or two about his brothers’ intentions.

      He hadn’t left the corner. Seeing his hard expression, Reese had second thoughts. Perhaps she should speak to Hector instead. Though what could he do? The same as her, alert Gabe, who’d likely be more receptive to the family attorney than her.

      She wavered, still debating and well aware she was drawing attention to herself. A moment later, she headed straight for Gabe.

      He didn’t so much as blink at her approach. The guy had nerves of steel.

      “I wanted to thank you again for helping me yesterday,” she said.

      “How’s the horse?”

      “Fine. A bit sore, but otherwise unharmed. The vet prescribed pain relievers, an anti-inflammatory and a week’s rest.” She mentioned the vet’s visit strictly to let Gabe know she wasn’t lax when it came to the well-being of the McGraw horses.

      “You were lucky.”

      “I was.” She hoped he noted the sincerity she was trying to convey. “I can’t imagine what I would have done if you hadn’t come riding by.”

      “Gone for help,” he said matter-of-factly.

      “And might not have made it back in time to save General.”

      “I disagree. You’re a resourceful woman, Reese.”

      “How would you know? We’re not exactly friends.”

      Except he’d witnessed one of the worst moments in her life and had treated her secret like it was his own, telling no one. Did that give them some sort of bond?

      “It shows.” He angled his head in a way managing to be both confident and boyishly charming.

      “I’m not that capable.”

      “No? You’re the trustee of my father’s estate. If you ask me, that’s pretty resourceful.”

      Ah. There they were. The knives. And here she’d assumed they might have a normal conversation. “Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with your father’s decision.”

      “Other than you returned to Mustang Valley and took a job at the bank a few weeks before he revised his will.”

      She stiffened. “A coincidence.”

      “Right.”

      “I can count on one hand the number of times I spoke to your father. The last was when he came into the bank and met with Walt, the manager. For the record, I wasn’t in the meeting.”

      “Yet you were named as trustee.”

      “The bank was. I’m performing the duties because I’m assistant manager.” Not entirely true, but Reese wasn’t ready to reveal any private agreements between August and the bank.

      “Does your father know?”

      Reese stood straighter. “He doesn’t.”

      “But he will soon enough.”

      “Gabe, I didn’t strike up a conversation with you to bicker.”

      “Then why?”

      There it was again, that flash of heat in his eyes. Darn him and darn her susceptibility.

      “How well do you know your brothers?”

      Her question elicited a sharp laugh.

      “Have you had a chance to talk with them these last few days?”

      “I’ve had the chance. Not the inclination.” He studied her intently.

      Reese resisted his close scrutiny. “I sense an animosity from them.”

      “No kidding.” Gabe’s tone rang with sarcasm.

      “I’m serious. Josh and Cole appear to be...unhappy with the terms of the will.”

      “They aren’t alone.”

      “I think Cole is only after money.”

      “What are you after?”

      This wasn’t going how Reese had hoped. She considered a different approach when Gabe’s glance suddenly cut to the left.

      “Quiet,” he murmured and visibly tensed.

      Reese peered over her shoulder. Josh and Cole weren’t three feet away. Both wore suspicious expressions. How much, if anything, had they heard?

      Gathering her wits, she said, “There you are. I was telling Gabe, the four of us need to schedule a meeting to review the financial records and discuss your father’s plan for the ranch.”

      “We were about to suggest the same thing.” Josh looked to his brother. “We have some questions.”

      “What kind of questions?” Gabe demanded, his jaw tightening.

      Placing herself between the three men, Reese plastered a smile on her face. “How’s tomorrow afternoon at the ranch? Say, two o’clock?”

      Gabe watched Reese bid goodbye to his mother and Hector, fetch her coat and purse from the back of a dining room chair and leave by the front door.

      A moment later, when no one was looking, he followed her, catching up as she reached her parked car in the driveway.

      “Reese.”

      She stopped and turned, her car key clutched in her fingers. “Oh, did I forget something?”

      “You by chance have a second?”

      “Sure.”

      She looked anything but sure. A second later, she popped the locks on her Honda sedan. Opening the car door, she deposited her purse on the passenger seat, then waited.

      “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were the trustee?” he asked.


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