The Rancher's Homecoming. Anna Stewart J.
She raced over and smacked Clyde into Chance’s hand.
“Your daddy’s a smart man,” Katie agreed. “Now hold on! Good girl, Hip.” Katie raced after Rosie when the four-year-old made a beeline for the horse as fast as her little legs would carry her. The horse dropped its head and let out a chuff, as Hip placed herself in front of Rosie. “Good girl, Hip.” Katie gave the dog a good pat. “Let’s get the introductions out of the way. Rosie, this is Hip. Short for Hippolyta. Hold out your hand, Rosie. Let her smell you so she can remember you’re a friend.”
“’Kay.” Fearless Rosie stuck her hand out right under the dog’s nose. Hip gave a good sniff, then angled to shove her nose up under Rosie’s hand as if demanding a pet. “Rosie, Hip. Hip, Rosie.”
“Her nose is cold.” Rosie’s eyes went wide.
“There you go. You’re friends, now,” Katie laughed.
“Hippo!” Rosie threw her arms up and lunged in for a hug.
“No!”
Chance nearly dove through the fence as Katie lunged for Rosie, but Hip let out what Chance could only describe as a sigh and let Rosie wrap her arms around her neck and squeezed.
Hand against her heart, Katie held her other palm out to Chance. “It’s okay. Whew.” That she appeared so relieved was more concerning to Chance than he liked. “You surprise me, girl.” She crouched and looked her dog directly in the eye. She sank her hand into Hip’s fur and rubbed. “I thought you didn’t like being called Hippo.”
Chance heard the dog growl in the back of her throat.
“Rosie, come here, please.” Katie pulled her away from the dog and motioned for Hip to stay. The dog blinked big black eyes at them as if to ask where they were going. “Say ‘Hippo’ again, please, Rosie.”
“Hippo!” Rosie giggled as Hip dropped to the ground and stuck her butt in the air, wagging her tail back and forth.
“Chance, would you try, please?”
“Uh, sure.” Chance cleared his throat. “Hippo.”
Hip shot back up, stood on all fours at attention and barked, then growled.
“Unbelievable.” Katie chuckled and shook her head. “First she gets herself a goat boyfriend, now this. Okay, Rosie, I guess for you only, it’s...um, you know.”
“Hippo!” Rosie doubled over with laughter as the dog came over and jumped into her arms to lick her face. “Doggie kisses!”
“They are the best kisses,” Katie assured her. “You still up for that ride?”
“Yes.” Rosie gripped the dog’s fur in her hand and looked up at her aunt with such admiration Chance’s chest constricted.
“We need a few bits of information before you go climbing up there. Riding a horse isn’t just for fun. It’s also a responsibility.” She looked over her shoulder at Chance. “We’ll meet you back at the house in a little bit. I need to go check on the ranch hands fixing fence line out along the south pasture. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
Chance nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” Feeling as if he was leaving his heart in the pasture, he forced himself to return to the minivan. Seconds later, he started the vehicle and stared down the road. Before he changed his mind, he floored it and shot forward under the Blackwell Family Ranch sign. And headed down the road to home.
* * *
CHANCE BLACKWELL HAD come home to Falcon Creek.
Katie checked her saddle, cinching the stirrups, and stalled as her mind raced in time to her pulse. Life hadn’t always been kind since he’d been gone, but the years looked good on him. The boyish good looks that had girls spinning in their saddles had transformed into solid, handsome features. Along with his charm, he had a complete arsenal of weapons to use in all that show-business stuff of his.
Of all the brothers, Chance had always stood out with his too-long dark hair and equally dark eyes that she suspected saw more than most. He hadn’t been as rough-and-tumble as the other boys, who’d teased Chance that he’d been switched at birth, given his less than enthusiastic proclivities toward anything ranch-related.
Technically Chance was still her brother-in-law, meaning she shouldn’t be noticing the way his jeans fit or the way his blue button-down shirt molded over a toned torso and arms. All she should care about was the love and pride that shone in his eyes whenever he looked at his little girl. She attributed the fluttering in her chest and knots in her belly to the continued stress over being caught between the brothers and their grandfather, Big E, who was pulling so many strings he may as well start a new career as a puppet master.
She should know. Big E had been pulling her strings for the past six months. Dread tightened her throat. If she wasn’t careful, one of those strings was going to snap. And Katie was going to find herself pitched out of the Blackwell Ranch—and family—forever.
Which was why it was far less stressful to think about Chance Blackwell. She was banking on the fact that his good memories of the ranch would outweigh the bad and he’d side with the brothers who wanted to keep the place. Not only because she couldn’t imagine this place not being owned by a Blackwell, but also because she needed this job. She was this close to officially being named foreman. Her father had lived his entire life on this ranch. Moving him now, when he had so little time left, would break both their hearts. And send Lochlan Montgomery into his grave.
Of course, she and the ranch would be in a better position if Big E had given her any control over the ranch’s finances. But no, the old coot couldn’t imagine a woman running his family ranch, which was ironic since that’s exactly what had been going on for the past two and a half years, as controlling every aspect of the business fell in line with his plans to get his grandsons back where he wanted them.
When it came to manipulation, there were few who excelled more than Elias Blackwell.
And no one else excelled at unnerving Montgomery women more than Big E’s grandson Chance.
Given how unsettling the idea of Chance returning had been, she thought she was managing pretty well so far. Of course, she’d been working overtime to make certain her father didn’t hear the rumors. The last thing she needed was to have Lochlan diving even further into a whiskey bottle in the hopes of drowning the never-forgotten resentment over the fact that his older daughter had chosen Chance over her family.
Seeing Chance in person again after all these years sent a tidal wave of memories and emotions sweeping through Katie. She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled against the pulls of happiness, grief and hope. She’d talked to him over the years, of course. Sometimes every day when Maura had been sick, then less frequently as Chance had settled into life as a widower and single father. Communication soon dwindled to text messages and photo exchanges, an occasional phone call with her niece, who had quite a lot to say for a four-year-old. And Katie hung on to every word as if they were priceless pearls.
“Aunt Katie, are we going to ride?”
Katie looked down at little Rosie, who was running her tiny hands down Starlight’s flank just as Katie had taught her. The second she’d seen Rosie her heart had nearly exploded in her chest. As much as she’d dreamed of holding Maura’s little girl, those dreams hadn’t come close to the reality. It hadn’t taken more than ten seconds to realize that Rosamund Maura Blackwell had Katie wrapped around every finger Rosie possessed. And she always would.
The determined expression on Rosie’s freckled face told Katie two things: one, Rosie was indeed her mother’s daughter, and two, Chance Blackwell had both his hands full. “We are indeed.” Katie bent down and gripped Rosie around the waist. She’d been teaching kids to ride since she was ten, but she couldn’t recall any lesson feeling quite this personal before. “You remember everything I told you?”
“Uh-huh.” Rosie nodded so hard her curls bounced. She gasped as Katie lifted