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Gripping the flashlight, she opened the door and stepped out into the misting rain. Wet grass brushed the legs of her jeans as she headed for a nearby clump of alder saplings. Nobody would be able to see her through the rainy darkness, but Rose’s innate sense of modesty would not allow her to squat in the open.
She had her jeans down and was nearly finished when the underbrush began to sway and crackle. Rose froze in terror as a huge shape loomed out of the night and came lumbering toward her, swinging its massive head.
Rose swallowed a scream, almost tumbling backward as the startled cow shied, wheeled, and trotted off in the opposite direction. Shaking, Rose picked up the flashlight she’d dropped, pulled up her jeans, and raced back to the camper. Safely inside, she dissolved in hysterical laughter. She’d been so scared—of a silly cow. If she was going to live out here, she would have to get used to such things. But she was going to need a good, stout fence to keep her planned garden safe.
Leaning out of the door, she brushed her teeth, then locked herself in, undressed, and climbed into bed. The day had been exhausting, but it had ended fine, she told herself. And tomorrow would be better.
Lulled by the light patter of rain, she pulled the quilt around her and began to drift. As she sank into sleep, the last image to fill her mind was the memory of Tanner’s gentle gray eyes.
* * *
At dawn, Tanner returned to the Prescott bunkhouse, cleaned up, and drove the back road to the Rimrock. With luck, he would find Bull Tyler at breakfast or chores and willing to talk. He had never met Bull, but he wanted to. He was curious about the man who’d already become a legend for his toughness and near-ruthless determination.
At least Rose hadn’t spoken too badly of him. And Bull had thought enough of her to return the title to her land. Tanner only hoped he could convince Bull how much she still needed his help.
The
Rimrock was smaller and less impressive than the Prescott spread. But the heart of the ranch had a clean, efficient look about it, the outbuildings solid and in good repair, the rambling wood and stone house designed to blend with the sweeping landscape. To the west, the towering escarpment rose against the sky. It was the kind of place a man could love and fight for, Tanner thought, a place that reflected its formidable owner.
As he pulled up to the house, two men came out onto the porch. The taller, older one Tanner recognized from the morning before, when the man came to the camper to call on Rose. He could only be Jasper Platt, the Rimrock’s longtime foreman. The other man, broad-chested and rock-solid, with dark hair showing gray and a challenging gaze, would be Bull Tyler.
They watched Tanner’s every move as he climbed out of the truck and approached the porch steps. Tanner had left his pistol in the truck—a wise decision, he decided. When facing this pair, any suggestion of a threat would be a bad idea.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Tanner paused, waiting for an invitation to join them. “I’m hoping you can spare me a few minutes. My name is—”
“I know who you are.” Bull’s voice and manner matched his nickname. “You’re Tanner McCade. You’re a TSCRA ranger, working undercover on the Prescott ranch. And I’m guessing that the two of us won’t need an introduction, either. So suppose you come on up and tell us your business. If Ferg is losing cattle for real this time, I’m all ears.”
“Evidently, he is losing cattle, and I’d appreciate your passing on anything you see or hear.” Tanner mounted the steps to the porch. “But that’s not why I’ve come this morning. I need to talk with you about Rose.”
“Is she all right?” Jasper Platt’s voice was sharp with concern.
“She’s fine, so far. But I’m worried about her, and you should be, too.”
Jasper stepped directly into his path. “If you don’t mind my asking, mister, what business do you have with our girl?”
“I’m her friend, that’s all,” Tanner said. “I helped her buy her truck, and I’ve stopped by the creek to check on her a couple of times. It strikes me that she’s taken on more than she can handle alone. That’s why I’m here.”
“We’re all concerned about Rose,” Bull said, opening the front door. “We were about to have breakfast. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that.” Tanner followed the two men inside, through an impressive great room with a tall stone fireplace and into a cozy kitchen with mismatched chairs around a well-used plank table. A plump, brunette woman gave Tanner a smile as she added an extra place setting and went back to cooking French toast. Jasper took a moment to introduce her as his sister, Bernice. “She’s the real boss of this place,” he said. “Get crosswise with her, and you don’t eat.”
Tanner took the seat he was offered and helped himself to some fresh coffee. “Thanks again,” he said. “It’s right neighborly of you to invite me in.”
“Just good timing.” Bull took his seat at the head of the table. “How much do you know about Rose?”
“Only what she’s told me. And what I’ve observed for myself. She’s pretty independent, isn’t she?”
“Independent?” Jasper snorted as he forked sausage onto his plate. “Rose Landro is the most mule-headed female on God’s green earth!”
“Maybe so,” Tanner said. “But stubbornness and grit won’t build her a cabin. And that rickety camper isn’t fit for a doghouse.”
“Rose is family to us,” Bull said. “We’ve offered her a place to stay. But she wants to live on her land. We’re hoping, when she sees how hard it is, that she’ll come to her senses and ask us for help.”
“And if she’s too proud to ask?” Tanner filled his plate with sausage, French toast, and potatoes.
“Rose is a grown woman,” Bull said. “I can’t force her to accept our help.”
“But you know, Tanner’s right,” Jasper said. “Rose could be in danger, out there alone in that old camper. What if she gets sick or hurt? What if some horny bastard takes a notion to go after her? If anything were to happen to that girl, I’d never forgive myself. And neither would you, Bull.”
