Cade Coulter's Return. Lois Dyer Faye
she called. He didn’t turn, merely lifted a hand in response and kept walking. His tall, broad-shouldered figure was a dark silhouette against the paler gravel until the road curved to the left and Cade disappeared in the deeper shadow cast by the barn.
Mariah sighed unconsciously and entered the house. She’d spent only an hour or so in his company yet Cade Coulter made her foolish body respond with shivers and undeniable excitement.
Of all the men in the world, she thought, why him? He had every reason to resent her after Joseph had made her an heir. But Joseph had dreamed of having his sons back on the Triple C and she was committed to helping that dream come true, despite Cade’s suspicions as to her motives. Cade hadn’t actually accused her of scamming his father but his skepticism about her response as to why Joseph had left her the house had been clear.
Cade couldn’t be more wrong about her, she thought. She would never have tried to manipulate or harm Joseph—she owed him too much to ever betray him.
A few years earlier, she’d taken a break from college classes and set out on a driving tour through Montana. She didn’t know exactly where she caught the flu virus, but she’d become violently ill on the road and while trying to reach Indian Springs, had passed out, losing control of her car. The vehicle had ended up in the ditch just past the Triple C ranch turnoff and Joseph had taken her in. He’d called a doctor, then he and Pete had tended her until she recovered from a raging fever and gut-wrenching flu symptoms. A year later, when her apartment building in Indian Springs burned to the ground, the solitary rancher had offered her a home in a vacant cabin on the Triple C. The more time she spent with the quiet, sad man, the more she grew to like him and when he’d been diagnosed with cancer, there was no question that she’d care for him as if he were her own father.
She’d never expected payment for being kind to him. She’d often told him it was her privilege to ease his last days on earth. She had no other family and knowing Joseph felt a paternal affection for her warmed her heart and enriched her life.
No, she told herself with conviction, if Joseph hadn’t welcomed her into his life on the Triple C along with Pete and J.T., she would have been alone.
It was impossible to imagine Joseph harming his sons, yet Cade’s comments about his father had rang with truth.
If she accepted Cade’s damning statement, she felt disloyal to Joseph.
If she hadn’t dearly loved the old man, she thought, she’d pack her bags, turn over the house keys to Joseph’s oldest son, and move into town.
But she had loved Joseph. So she’d guard her tongue and swallow angry replies—at least until Cade had time to grow familiar with the workings of the Triple C.
She sighed and made her way to bed but sleep eluded her and she lay awake much too long, pondering and worrying about the changes that were sure to follow Cade’s return to the Triple C.
Chapter Three
After leaving Mariah at her cabin, Cade kept walking, past the bunkhouse to the barn. He’d been caught off guard by the urge to bend his head and taste her mouth. He hadn’t been tempted to act impulsively with a woman since he was a kid and he couldn’t help fantasizing about what she’d look like out of those snug, faded jeans.
He stopped to look in on Jiggs, entering the barn through a small door to the right of the bigger, wide-plank door. Overhead lights flashed on with the flick of the switch just inside the door and Jiggs lifted his muzzle from a water pail, nickering when he saw Cade.
“Hey, boy.” Cade ran a quick assessing gaze over the black’s quarters. Fresh straw bedding covered the floor of the box stall. The manger was filled with hay and Jiggs looked happy and content. He made a mental note to thank J.T. “Looks like the kid treated you right.”
Jiggs bobbed his head up and down before he nuzzled Cade’s jacket pocket.
“Sorry,” Cade told him. “No apples tonight. I forgot to buy any in town. I’ll get some tomorrow.”
Jiggs whuffed in disappointment. Cade chuckled and smoothed his palm down the black’s face and muzzle.
“You’re spoiled.” He patted the black’s strong neck and turned away. He looked back just before he snapped off the light and grinned at the horse’s disappointed expression.
Cade left the barn and crossed the ranch yard. He’d put off entering the house for as long as he could. Automatically, he scraped mud from his boots before going inside. He closed the door behind him, flipped the light switch on the wall to his right and halted, pausing to sweep the big main room with an assessing glance.
It looked the same. In fact, he thought, it was as if the house were frozen in time. The worn leather sofa and matching big chair with its ottoman were scuffed and worn but still solid and familiar. Above the huge fireplace, the heavy oak plank that his father had used to create the mantel still held a collection of framed photos and two glass oil lamps. Several stacks of magazines and books were neatly spaced atop the carved oak coffee table in front of the sofa. A small table with a lamp sat next to the cherrywood sewing rocker beside the hearth.
He crossed the room to the fireplace and with one hand, set the rocker moving gently back and forth. For a long moment, he stared at the four framed photographs before he picked up the largest, an 8 × 10 studio photo of his family. His mother’s green eyes glowed with the same happiness that curved her mouth in a smile. His father’s arm was slung over her shoulder, tucking her protectively against his side. Cade and his three brothers were little-boy stairsteps ranged in front of their parents. Melanie Coulter’s hand rested on Cade’s shoulder.
Cade could feel his mother’s warm, loving touch as if the Coulter family had posed for the portrait only yesterday. An old, familiar pain burned in his gut and he absentmindedly rubbed his chest, just to the left of center. When he realized what he was doing, he jerked his hand away and set the photo back on the mantel.
Maybe I’m not as immune to memories as I thought.
He rolled his shoulders, shrugging off the unwelcome introspection, and turned his back on the collection of photographs, striding across the room to enter the kitchen. Here, too, time seemed to have stood still. In the far corner, the heavy wooden chair with scarred legs was pushed neatly up to the long kitchen table. Cade remembered too well how his mother had loved the table and chairs, a gift from husband and sons for her birthday. After she died, the table had grown dusty and lost its polish, the chairs earning scars from her sons’ spurs knocking into the carved legs.
He shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of a chair, hooking his hat on the corner. He gave the room one last cursory survey, checked to make sure the coffee canister was nearly full in the cabinet above the coffeemaker next to the sink, and left the room.
Joseph Coulter’s office was just down the hall from the living room. Cade pushed open the door, flipped on the light switch and stepped inside.
The big desk faced the door. Cade walked across the room and behind it, pausing to scan the framed map of the Triple C and surrounding ranches that hung on the wall. The boundaries of the huge ranch were etched in solid black.
Cade was struck anew at his father’s obvious determination to hold the land. Given the financial straits the ranch was in, he knew Joseph must have been strapped for cash.
And judging by how little paint remained on the shabby buildings, he thought grimly, the Triple C had probably been running on short rations for a long time.
He dropped into the worn leather seat of the wooden swivel desk chair. The desktop was free of dust and a black accounting ledger was centered on the blotter. Three sharpened pencils, a blue ink pen, a red ink pen and a short ruler were tucked into a heavy pottery mug sitting to one side of the blotter.
Everything was clean and very neat. Cade guessed Mariah was probably responsible for the tidy house.
He flipped the ledger open to the latest entries, neat columns in red and