Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler (18 page)

“I’ve got him in sight,” Ryan said, and after he hung up, he went over and pounded his fist on the realtor’s desk. “Yes, what
is
the Collins guest ranch worth? Fifty pounds of horse supplement?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” McGrath said stiffly.

“But you
do
know about the bags of salt that
are in your plane, don’t you?”

Bree placed her hand on his arm, her eyes wide. “Ryan, what bags of salt?”

“The bags of salt he dumped into his crop duster to spray out over our right end field.” Ryan glared at the man in front of him, hoping to intimidate him. “Were you working alone? Or did you and Owens hash out the plan together?”

The realtor didn’t deny the accusations but smiled,
a malicious, wicked smile. Then he handed Ryan a business card and said, “Let me know when you’re ready to sell.”

“Why you—­” Ryan reached out a hand to grab the guy by the throat, but then the door opened and a man he recognized as one of the local outdoor outfitters walked in. Probably the guy who supplied the realtor with traps.

“Excuse me, but you’ll have to leave,” McGrath said, pulling
back. “I have another client.”

Ryan did not want to go anywhere, but the outdoor outfitter looked as if he was already sizing him up in case there was a fight. No doubt this guy would take the realtor’s side. Ryan wouldn’t have had a problem with that, except his top concern was for Bree. He needed to make sure she was safe.
Outside the building.

He ground his teeth together as he led
Bree back to his truck. He hoped to lock her inside, then go back into the realtor’s office to deal with the two men, but instead of getting in, she took his hand and pulled him down the sidewalk toward the gazebo in the riverfront park.

“You’re as wired as a porcupine on six cups of coffee,” Bree teased, her voice soft as she leaned against him. “Tell me about your fields.”

A
S
R
YAN DROVE
her back to her family’s guest ranch, Bree sat close to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. He kept one hand on the steering wheel, his other on her knee.

Bree smiled, her head replaying their afternoon talking in the gazebo. The sun had been shining, the river beside them had been softly gurgling, and the words that had poured forth from Ryan’s heart had never been so encouraging. At
least she could now tell Luke why Dean had been in their stable the night of the dance. The Tanners had been keeping their eye on Mr. Owens as well as the three women from Iridescent Beauty. Because they cared about her. Because
Ryan
cared about her.

When Bree heard about the crop duster and the Tanners’ ruined fields, her heart went out to him. She knew how costly the damage from something
like that could be. If the same had happened to her family, they’d be devastated both financially and emotionally. Her knee-­jerk reaction was to wrap an arm around his shoulders to offer comfort, but the move surprised him, and the look he gave her in return surprised her.

He needed her as much as Cody. He trusted her. Respected her. Wanted her.
Adored
her.

She’d sucked in her breath,
her heart hammering in her ears, and trembled as his head drew closer and closer to her own. His arms came around her, locking her in an embrace, and the warmth of his touch made all the worries she carried inside her disappear. Then he laid a light kiss on the top of her brow, another on the bridge of her nose, and a third on her cheek. She tilted her head back slightly to raise her mouth toward
his, closed her eyes, and . . . waited, wanting this kiss more than she’d
ever
wanted any other kiss.

“Ask me,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and stared at him, wondering what he meant, wondering why he’d stopped, wondering why . . . then she recalled their earlier conversation and smiled. “Kiss me?”

His mouth captured hers and the rest of the afternoon spun away into a joyous
cyclone of oblivion that, even now, left her emotions spinning and her equilibrium unbalanced. All she knew was that she wished the day didn’t have to end, wished Ryan never had to take her home, wished he’d never leave her side again.

The sight of a group of ­people crowded around the outside of Cabin 12 snapped her back to reality. She exchanged a quick glance with Ryan, then as soon as
they parked, they jumped out of the truck and hurried over to see what was going on.

Delaney, Meghan, Ma, Grandma, and a few guests were chattering back and forth. Josh Tanner was also there, ready to pick up Rebecca for their date, but the cosmetic exec and her two friends were nowhere in sight.

“The women think there’s a cat in their cabin,” he explained. “They’re trying to get it out.”

“Make way,” Nora said, running between them. “I’ve got a broom to scoot it out from under the bed. Nadine, open the door and—­”

“Got it!” her sister yelled.

The twins ran inside and a few seconds later Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca ran out, screeching and screaming, and bursting into hysterics.

“It ran in the bathroom while I was trying to put on my makeup,” Rebecca exclaimed. “And
I’m allergic to cat hair.”

“You aren’t sneezing,” Chelsea said, her eyes wide from the excitement. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“I love kitties,” Katelyn crooned, turning toward Bree. “Do you think after they catch it I can take the cat home?”

Another set of shrieks nearly shook the cabin, bloodcurdling shrieks that told Bree something was dreadfully wrong. She lunged forward, but Ryan
shot out an arm to stop her.

“Let me,” he said, and ran toward the open door.

Before he could enter, Nora and Nadine ran out. Both girls continued to shriek as they covered their eyes with their hands, and after one whiff of the strong, putrid, one-­of-­a-­kind odor, Bree knew why.

“Skunk!”
she shouted, warning everyone else to get back as the black and white animal darted from the
door of the cabin to the brush beneath the trees.

“But I’ve never seen a skunk with long legs like that,” Chelsea said, holding her nose.

“When have
you
ever seen a skunk?” Rebecca demanded.

Katelyn put her hands on her hips. “We all know what a skunk looks like, but this one didn’t have a white stripe down its back. It had white patches all over it like my neighbor’s cat back in L.A.”

“It’s a western spotted skunk,” Delaney told them. “Their hair can have different patterns.”

“We’ve been sprayed!” the twins wailed together.

Nora’s eyes teared. “What do we do?”

“Someone help us,” Nadine cried. Then the teen let out another scream. “Oh, no! I think I broke another nail!”

Ma gasped. “Should we bathe them in tomato juice?”

“Or lemon juice?” Bree suggested.

“Leave them to me,” Grandma said, stepping toward them. “The only thing that will take the stink off them is my special formula of vinegar, baking soda, and homemade dish detergent.”

“They can’t bathe in the house,” Ma protested.

Grandma agreed. “Ryan, Bree, can you two bring over one of the metal troughs from the outdoor paddock and fill it with water?”

They hurried to do what
they could to help, and when they returned, Josh had something to show them. “I found it near the cabin,” Josh said, exchanging a look with his brother.

Bree studied the object Josh held in his hands. “A syringe?”

“A tranq dart,” Ryan informed her. “The kind an outdoor outfitter might use to tranquilize an animal to transport it in a cage to a different location.”

“An outdoor outfitter
like the realtor’s friend?” she gasped. “You think they put the skunk in our guests’ cabin on purpose?”

Josh nodded. “The women went to visit their neighbors in the cabin next to them and when they came back the door was closed.”

Bree glanced at Cabin 12 and wrinkled her nose at the smell, ready to gag. “Why would they do that?”

“Uh . . . Bree?” Chelsea asked, a worried look on her
face. “Where are we going to stay?”

Chapter Twelve

B
REE’S STOMACH LURCHED.
She’d checked in several new guests that morning and all the other cabins were full. She’d just got her own bedroom back, but even if she were to offer it up, the room only had one bed and they needed three.

This was exactly what the Owenses wanted, and she was more sure than ever before that Mr. Owens and the realtor had joined forces
to team up against her.

But what could she do? Kick the guests out of another cabin so the cosmetic execs would agree to stay? Offer them a tent? Dread crept up her spine and threatened defeat.

If only someone,
other
than the Owenses, could offer them the use of a spare cabin. Sammy Jo was a good friend and had an old hunting cabin on her property next door, but ever since Bree could remember,
Sammy Jo’s father had been in a hateful feud with her parents. No, Mr. Macpherson would
never
allow the Collinses to use their cabin no matter how much his defiant daughter begged him.

“I guess we could stay at the Owens’ guest ranch,” Chelsea told Katelyn and Rebecca.

“No! Wait—­” Bree looked at Ryan. “Do you think they could finish out their stay in the cabin on the edge of
your
property?”

The Tanners kept a furnished cabin ready for whenever one of them needed time away from the rest of the family. Bree’s grandma had told her it had been built for Ryan’s parents after they married, but when his grandparents passed away, the growing Tanner family left the cabin behind and took up residence in the main house.

Ryan looked at Josh, who shook his head. “We don’t rent out to guests.”

“We might be able to make an exception,” Ryan told him.

“My family will pay you,” Bree offered, her stomach churning more from anxiety than the penetrating skunk smell. “I don’t know how, but we’ll pay you.”

Rebecca’s face broke into a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “Josh, sweetie,
we’d
be willing to pay you—­for the chance to stay at a real working cattle ranch and be able to
see you and your brothers in action.”

Chelsea nodded, and Katelyn said, “Real cowboys!”

Ryan jabbed his brother in the ribs. “We
could
use a little extra money right now to help cover the expense of the hay.”

“But what about our clothes?” Rebecca asked, glancing down at the yellow polka dot dress she’d donned for her date. “All of our stuff is now drenched in that stench!”

“You
can go shopping again,” Bree promised. “We’ll pay. And . . . you
love
shopping.”

Each of their faces brightened and they sounded like the twins when they responded, “Yes, we
do
!”

W
HILE
J
OSH LEFT
to take Rebecca to the rodeo, Ryan called his father and other two brothers to gain permission for the CEOs to rent their cabin. Bree hopped back and forth from one foot to the other, as if tiptoeing
on eggshells, as she waited for him to give her a definitive answer.

“Well?” she asked when he put away his phone.

“There are some conditions,” he warned her.

Bree nodded. “Okay. What are they?”

“First, the women have to stay away from the cattle. And by stay away, I mean back fifty yards behind a fence. We can’t have anyone getting hurt.”

“That’s understandable,” she consented.

“Second,” Ryan continued, “don’t expect my family to entertain them. During the day you bring them over here to your place for the daily activities.”

Bree nodded. “Of course.”

“And third, you must go out with me on a real date.”

“Is that a personal stipulation?” she teased.

“No,” Ryan said, and gave her a rueful grin. “Believe me, my whole family is behind this.”

Bree laughed.
“Tell them yes to all three. But I’d like to choose where we go.”

He shook his head. “Not part of the deal.”

“What is?” she asked, pursing her lips in mock annoyance.

“Kissing,” he told her. “Lots and lots of kissing.”

R
YAN FOLLOWED
B
REE,
Luke, and Delaney into the Collinses’ living room and wondered if Bree would sit in the love seat beside him, or on the larger couch with her
brother and sister. She chose to remain neutral by sitting in a chair between them.

“It will only take me a minute to hook up the camera cord to the TV,” Delaney said, fiddling with the wiring. “Then we should have a clear view of what got recorded.”

Judging from the time Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca said they left the cabin and returned, it was possible there had been an hour window
between six and seven o’clock that might have captured whoever was responsible for putting the skunk in the women’s cabin.

The sound came on first, the distant neigh of a horse from the stable. Then a picture came into view, an image of the front porch of Cabin 12 and a strip of land along the right-­hand side.

“Can you fast-­forward?” Ryan asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Delaney
pushed a button on the remote and the time clock on the image raced like the numbers on a gas pump, but the image stayed the same. Then something moved.

Bree scooted forward to the edge of her seat. “Wait! Go back!”

Delaney rewound a few seconds, then pushed play. Nothing. Then a second later, a black wire box swung across the corner of the video.

“There,” Luke said, pointing. “Did
you see that? It looked like a cage to me.”

“What we need is something concrete to link us to the person who did it,” Ryan told him. “So far all we keep coming up with is speculation.”

“Something concrete—­like
that
?” Bree asked, smiling.

Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes. Directly in front of them, Shane McGrath popped into view carrying a western spotted skunk in a trapper’s cage. The
skunk’s leg twitched once, but other than that, the animal appeared to be asleep. Glancing around, the realtor stepped onto the cabin’s porch, opened the door, which had been left unlocked, and went inside.

“He’s the realtor who wants us to sell our property,” Delaney exclaimed.

Luke scowled. “We could get him for criminal trespassing.”

“And malicious mischief,” Bree affirmed. “Look,
there he is. He’s coming out of the cabin—­and the cage is empty.”

Ryan rose from his seat and took a step closer, watching the cage swing back and forth as the realtor hurried away. “And
that’s
when the dart fell out between the bars. Why he had it in there, I don’t know.”

“Maybe he thought he could give the skunk a second dose if it woke up too early,” Delaney mused.

“If he’s the
one who salted your fields and put the skunk in our guest cabin, then Shane McGrath is after both of us,” Bree said, also standing. “I’d bet he put the supplement in the stable, too.”

“But why?” Delaney asked. “For money? A hefty commission when we agree to sell?”

“What if the Owenses paid him?” Bree asked. “We still don’t have any evidence against Owens. How can we make the realtor talk?”

“Blackmail him?” Luke suggested.

“That will only get
us
in trouble,” Bree warned him.

Ryan took out his cell phone. “She’s right. As much as I’d like to go after the guy myself, we have to let the sheriff deal with him. And if Shane McGrath is working with Owens, he’ll ’fess up to clear his own name.”

T
HE SHERIFF TOOK
the video to the district court and a few days later Ryan and
Bree received word that Shane McGrath had been arrested. They still waited to hear what the guy had to say, but in the meantime, Saturday arrived and Aunt Mary waited for
them
at the Fox Creek Halter Show.

“How’s Boots?” Cody asked as they loaded the mare and filly into the trailer.

Ryan watched Bree’s face light up as she glanced at his son. “He’s getting big. I’ll bring him over to visit
the next time I come over.”

“My puppies are getting big, too,” Cody said, following at her heels. “Dad let me keep two. I named them Oreo and Lucky. We found homes for the rest of them.”

“Three went to Aunt Mary’s neighbors,” Ryan added. “She said she would have kept one herself if . . . her health wasn’t failing.”

Ryan’s father had left earlier to pick up his aunt and drive her to
the fairgrounds. She met them by the arena gate with their competitor number.

“My, oh, my, don’t you look sharp,” Aunt Mary crooned when she saw Cody wearing the clean boots, jeans, jacket, and cowboy hat he usually reserved for church on Sunday. “You look just like your father.”

“Very handsome,” Bree agreed, smiling at Cody and then at
him
.

He knew how important this event was to
both Cody and his aunt, but Ryan couldn’t help but wish it was already over. He had a date with Bree later that night, and every smile, every glance, she threw his way only ramped up his anticipation.

However, a short while later, as Ryan watched the other horses and their handlers perform, his brow began to sweat and he wished the show was over for a different reason. He’d been informed his
aunt wouldn’t be the one holding the mare’s reins at the edge of the arena while Bree went through the course with the filly.

He
would.

Aunt Mary felt weak and needed to sit in the stands with his father. And although the mare had allowed Ryan to draw close enough to practice groundwork over the last few days, Bree had always been by his side. He’d never been alone with the mare since
the day she bit him.

“You’ll do fine,” Bree said, smiling. “I’ll only be in front of the judges for a few minutes.”

“A few minutes is all it takes for—­”

“Angel to sink her teeth in your arm?” Bree asked.

Ryan had thought of that but shook his head. “For her to act out and make the filly nervous.”

“I think you’re the one who’s nervous,” Bree teased. “Smile. Hum a tune. Convince
Angel that you’re someone she wants to be around.”

“Yeah,” he said, and grinned. “I’ve heard that before.”

“And if all else fails, you can use some of that Tanner charm,” Bree assured him. Then she squatted down to look Cody in the eye. “Remember, I’m counting on you to pay attention to Morning Glory’s every move, no matter how small, so if she makes a mistake, we’ll know what to work
on for next time.”

“Don’t worry, Bree,” Cody said, giving her a big thumbs-­up as he climbed into a seat beside Aunt Mary in the stands above them. “I know we’ll win.”

It was clear Bree’s confidence had rubbed off on his son. Ryan wished he had some. The mare’s eyes widened as their number was called and Bree and the filly walked farther away.

He drew a slow, steady stream of air into
his lungs to steady his breathing. If he remained calm, so would the horse.
He hoped.

“Don’t you dare block my view,” his aunt scolded. “Curl your toes in the tips of your boots and bite down on your tongue. That’s what I always do when my stomach’s having fits.”

“I’m fine,” Ryan said, but he did as she said nonetheless.

Bree stood to Morning Glory’s left and waited her turn by the
orange cone nearest Ryan’s end of the oval arena. They’d spent all morning brushing and grooming the filly until there wasn’t one stray hair or speck of dirt on her bay coat. A large part of the score was all about appearance. Another portion focused on performance.

Bree, lead rope in hand, walked beside the filly in a straight line toward the judge. Morning Glory did a little prance to the
right, but it just tightened her body and made her look better. Especially since the horses in the show were judged on their soundness, muscling, and balance.

Next Bree “set up” the filly to be assessed at a standstill. Ryan held his breath, wondering if Morning Glory would stand perfectly square on all four feet. She did, and he let out a sigh of relief, but then he glanced at the mare beside
him and realized he hadn’t kept his breathing steady. As a result, Angel tossed her head. Let out a low snort. Shifted her feet.

Ryan feared the mare would pin back her ears and bare her teeth, but then he stroked his hand through the horse’s mane and murmured, “Look at our gals out there, Angel. Aren’t they doing great? A few minutes more and it will all be over.”

“They’re beautiful,”
Aunt Mary said in a loud whisper from the seats above.

Even more beautiful was the fact the mare relaxed. So did Ryan. He uncurled his toes and stood, captivated, watching as the judge circled the pair in the middle of the arena with his clipboard and made a few notes.

Bree turned Morning Glory around and they both trotted side by side away from the judge so the filly could be evaluated
on her movement, then the performance was over and they came back through the gate. Morning Glory let out a happy little whinny when she rejoined her mother, and Cody jumped down from his seat in the stands to wrap Bree in a quick hug.

“You were awesome,” his son told her.

Bree gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Cody’s face beamed. “Hey, Aunt
Mary, if we win the trophy, who gets to keep it, you or me?”

“Why,
you
, of course,” Aunt Mary replied.

Bree agreed, and when she turned toward Ryan, she nodded toward the mare and smiled. “You did great.”

Ryan grinned. “So did you. I never doubted you for a minute.”

“Neither did I,” Aunt Mary told her. “Thank you for all your help, Bree. You’ve made such a difference . . . for
all of us.”

A faint blush colored Bree’s cheeks. “But I really didn’t—­”

“Hush,” his aunt scolded. “And say, ‘Yes.’ ”

Bree hesitated and frowned.
“Yes?”

“Good girl,” Aunt Mary said with a nod. “You just agreed to give my filly a good home at your ranch as soon as she’s weaned.”

Bree gasped. “You’re giving me Morning Glory?”

“I won’t take her back,” Aunt Mary warned. “You
said yes and she’s now yours.”

Ryan grinned. “If I were you I wouldn’t argue with her.”

Bree clapped her hands together and laughed. Then she threw her arms around Aunt Mary and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I have a new horse!”