Lincoln Cain, a man who’d spent two years in prison for attempted robbery, had become a mega-successful entrepreneur. Linc had turned his life around and was now co-owner of Texas American Enterprises, a billion-dollar corporation.
His brother’s success had motivated Josh to rethink his own potential. It made him believe he could make a better life for himself.
Over that summer, he’d set some goals, met them, set new goals and achieved those, too. The summer after graduation, his mom, a smoker, had died of lung cancer, which had sent him into a tailspin for a while, but at least she was finally free of the drunken wife-beater who had been Josh and Linc’s dad.
Josh had put himself through community college, then enlisted in the marines. He’d gone on to become a special operations sniper, but the smartest thing he’d done was invest in his brother’s company.
Every extra dime he earned, every penny he could get his hands on, went into Tex/Am stock. Being in Afghanistan made saving easy. The stock he bought went up, split, went up, split, and went up again.
Josh wasn’t the multimillionaire his brother was, but he wasn’t poor, either. Buying the ranch had set him back a little, but the mortgage was the only money he owed. He still had plenty in the bank, enough to live the way he wanted and make the ranch a success.
The trick was finding decent help. He had a couple of good wranglers, but there were other jobs he needed them to do. He’d keep looking. He had a couple of ideas that might pan out. The hands lived in town. He had moved the double-wide he’d been living in onto the Iron River Ranch, but it was empty now that he’d moved into the remodeled house.
He’d decided to put an ad in the newspaper offering the use of the trailer along with the job. Might get someone more reliable.
In the meantime, he had plenty of work to do.
Josh grabbed a shovel and a wheelbarrow and headed for the horse barn.
* * *
Tory drove the old blue Chevy Malibu along the two-lane road. Up ahead, a sign hung above a narrow dirt track running off to the west,IRON RIVER RANCH.
“Are we there yet, Mama?” Ivy had asked at least a dozen times since they’d left the Walmart parking lot in Iron Springs. The ten-mile drive didn’t take long, but to a four-year-old who’d been in the car for days, they couldn’t reach their destination soon enough.
“We’re very close, sweetheart. This is the turn, right here.” Tory checked the gas gauge as the wheels left the pavement and started rumbling over the bumpy dirt road. Less than an eighth of a tank. She hoped the ranch wasn’t much farther.
More than that, she prayed the job hadn’t already been filled.
She sighed as the aging Malibu rolled along. She was basically in bumfrick Egypt, ten miles north of Nowhere Springs, almost out of gas, with twenty-three dollars and thirty-three cents in her wallet.
Last night, without enough money for a hotel room and afraid to use her credit cards for fear Damon would somehow track her, they’d slept in the car in the Walmart parking lot. As soon as the McDonald’s was open, she had pulled through the drive-thru and bought a cheap breakfast, then started driving out to the ranch to somehow convince the owner to hire a woman with a daughter and no actual ranching experience.
She thought of the ad in the paper she had spotted last night on the counter in the Iron Springs Café. If she somehow managed to get the job, it would be perfect. Besides a steady paycheck and the ranch being way off the grid, the position included the use of a double-wide trailer.
After being on the road for the past three weeks, living out of hotel rooms and suitcases, the trailer sounded like a palace.
Ivy pointed toward the cluster of buildings up ahead: a couple of barns, several fenced training arenas, and a two-story home with dormer windows and a covered porch running the length out in front. A double-wide sat fifty yards away.
Vast stretches of open green pastureland surrounded the complex, where horses and cattle grazed, and there were ponds and woodlands in the distance, a few dense clusters of trees.
The Chevy bumped over the last patch of road, pulled up in front of the house, and Tory quickly turned off the engine. No use wasting what little gas she had left.
“Mama, there’s a man over there by the barn.”
Her gaze swung in that direction. There was, indeed, a man. The noisy buzz of a saw covered the sound of their arrival, giving her time to assess him.
Shirtless, he was working with his back to them, broad, tanned, and muscled above a narrow waist that disappeared into a pair of faded jeans. The jeans hugged a round behind and long, powerful legs.
He was tall, she saw when he straightened away from his work and walked into the barn, with medium brown hair cut short. She got her first look at his face when he walked back out: handsome, with masculine features, at least three days’ growth of whiskers along a solid jaw. The front of him was just as impressive as the back, a broad chest with solid pecs, muscular biceps, and six-pack abs.
Unease filtered through her. This was a strong, powerful male. She knew firsthand what a man like that could do to a woman.
Tory shoved the notion away. Not all men were like Damon. Before she’d met him, she had been married to a good and decent man, the father of her child. Jamie Bradford, her high school sweetheart, was one of the gentlest people she’d ever known. Her father had been a good man, before he’d fallen in love with his secretary and divorced her mother, leaving the two of them alone.
Tory took a courage-building breath. “Stay here, sweetheart.” Cracking open the car door, she slid out from behind the wheel. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Everything’s going to be okay.”
She hoped.
