A Wife in Wyoming (2 page)

“Of course not.” Ford stared up at the Wyoming stars, the familiar constellations in their early-summer formations, twinkling like far-off candles against the black velvet sky. “I'll keep it in mind, if I decide to shift gears.” He let a silence fill with the sounds of nearby crickets and the whisper of the wind. “Everything going all right on the Circle M?”

The boss didn't answer right away. “With ranching, there's always something going wrong,” he said at last. “Cattle prices are down, the grass-fed market demand is slow. Winter lasted longer than usual, so we're late moving herds into the higher pastures. The Forest Service has limited the parcels we can use, which means fattening up these early steers is gonna be harder.” He blew a rueful snort. “Same stuff, different day.”

“Well, my investments are sound, the dividends are high and we've got a solid buffer in place. If you have cash flow problems, just let me know.”

“Sure.” Wyatt's hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Mostly, we're just glad to have you here, Ford. Thanks for making the effort.”

“The Marshalls stick together,” Ford told him, meeting his brother's dark gaze with his own. “I wouldn't be anywhere else.”

* * *

F
ROM
HER
PLACE
in the church choir, Caroline Donnelly noticed the new arrival as soon as he entered the building on Sunday morning. He was tall and broad-shouldered like all the Marshall brothers, but Ford was the one blond in the bunch, his hair still the bright, sleek gold color he'd inherited from his dad.

Mr. Marshall had been her father's business manager as far back as Caroline could remember. She'd known him as the smiling man who kept a bowl of hard candy on his desk and always let her have a piece when she came by.

“Sweets for the sweet,” he would say and wink at her.

The Marshall boys had never come with their dad to the Donnelly ranch—her dad had strict rules about who she could play with—but she'd gone to school with the oldest three. Because he was five years behind her, she hadn't seen much of Dylan, but there was always talk in town about the latest stunt the youngest Marshall had pulled.

Ford, however, hadn't been one for pulling stunts. Even before they lost their parents, he'd been the serious Marshall, the driven, studious one. He seemed the same now, with his expensive haircut and his designer jacket worn over a pair of jeans.

Actually, he looked even better now—like every woman's fantasy of a cleaned-up cowboy with lots of money. It was all pretty much make-believe, but oh, so nice to dream about. His successful law career was a claim to fame as far as the citizens of Bisons Creek were concerned.

“Psst. Caroline!” Beth Forbes, the woman next to her, tugged on her sleeve. “Time to start!”

Caroline stood up belatedly and opened her choir book. Thank goodness she knew the opening song by heart, since she was on the wrong page. Those Marshall boys had always distracted her from what she was supposed to be doing. Especially Ford.

She tried to concentrate during the service, but she found her gaze straying to his face too often for her own comfort. They'd been in the same grade and some of the same courses—English, history, math. He hadn't grabbed attention by clowning around or disrupting class, the way other boys did. But none of the troublemakers bothered him or tried to goad him into acting out. Something about Ford kept everybody at a distance.

Listening with half an ear to Garrett's sermon, Caroline recalled the day Ford had returned to school after his dad died. Mr. Marshall hadn't worked at the Donnelly ranch for a couple of years by then, but she'd wanted to say something since he'd been a big part of her life. So she'd stopped at Ford's locker just before lunch.

“I'm sorry about your dad,” she'd said, meaning every word. “He was kind to me when I was little.”

Ford had slammed his locker shut, making her jump. He'd turned in her direction, but his dark blue eyes looked right through her. After a moment, he nodded and then walked away.

She'd been too spooked to speak to him again.

Not today, though. Today she would talk to him and make sure he listened, because what she had to say was important. Not just to her—though the work she was trying to do had cost her dearly—but to the whole community of Bisons Creek.

Butterflies flitted around in her stomach as she thought about talking with Ford. She'd been nervous enough when she'd expected to have to consult with Wyatt, but Garrett had told her that Ford was running the ranch this summer and that he was the one she'd have to convince. At least she'd have Garrett to back her up. Ford couldn't walk away from the two of them.

She hoped.

As usual, Dylan fell asleep during his brother's sermon, but today Ford elbowed him awake for the final hymn. In the choir room afterward, Caroline shelved her folder and spent a minute at the mirror to add a swipe of lipstick to her mouth and make sure her hair was okay. She put a hand on her stomach and drew a deep breath—the butterflies had taken up kickboxing.

Finally she went to the social hall, where refreshments were provided, giving members a chance to greet each other and chat over cookies and lemonade or coffee. Garrett had promised that he would make sure Ford stayed.

And there he was, surrounded by folks who hadn't seen him since the last time he was home at Christmas, all of them asking about his glamorous San Francisco law practice and how Wyatt was doing. Dylan hosted his own fan club, composed of the single women from eighteen to thirty who wanted to be flirted with. The youngest Marshall was only too happy to oblige.

Caroline wolfed down three sugar cookies and a glass of lemonade before the crowd thinned enough that she stood a chance of getting through. As soon as she stepped into the circle, Ford glanced her way. His eyes narrowed slightly before refocusing on the face of the person talking to him. He smiled at the woman—such a nice smile, but one he used so rarely. And never with her.

If it were up to me
, Caroline thought,
I'd make him laugh at least three times a day.

Maybe, if the project she wanted his help on got going, she might get the chance!

Finally, with most of the congregation out of the way, she moved close enough to say, “Hello, Ford.” She breathed deep and held out her hand. “Welcome home.”

For a second—just an instant—he hesitated. Then his hand took hers, and his eyes brightened. “Hello there, Caroline. Good to see you. It's been a long time.”

The warmth of his skin against hers was nearly as distracting as the smile. “Fifteen years, believe it or not, since graduation. I hear you've done magnificent things in San Francisco.”

“I do my job. What have you been up to?”

Garrett stepped up beside his brother. “Caroline runs the Department of Family Services in Bisons Creek. She's working with the area's disadvantaged families.”

“Really?” Ford lifted a disbelieving eyebrow.

Caroline nodded. “Really,” she said, and at that moment realized they were still holding hands. She slid hers quickly out of his grasp. “I majored in psychology, got my master's degree in social work and was with the department in Casper for four years before moving back here. There are people in trouble in this area, just like anywhere else, especially the teenagers. High school is a lot more dangerous now than when we were there.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, which only made his shoulders broader. “So I understand. Garrett said you have a project you want to talk to me about.”

“I do.” She glanced around and noticed the volunteers were cleaning up the refreshment table. “Now might not be the best time, though. Could you meet me in town for lunch tomorrow?”

He glanced at Garrett. “I'm here to take on some of the work Wyatt can't get to. I expect I'll be in the saddle all day tomorrow. What about right now? Kate's Café is still open on Sundays, right?”

“I've got some sick parishioners to visit,” Garrett said. “I can't take a break for lunch today.”

Caroline hesitated. She'd expected to have Garrett's support when she explained her plan. Would she be as persuasive by herself?

Ford read her indecision. “If you're busy, maybe later in the week...?”

“No, not at all.” She would do this and do it well, for the kids. “Right now is perfect. Shall we meet there in about ten minutes?”

Dylan sauntered up. “Hey, Miss Caroline. You are looking especially fine today.”

She gave him the big smile he deserved. “Thank you so much, sleepyhead.”

He flushed and pushed his dark hair back off his face. “Stayed up till dawn working on a piece. Then somebody stomps in at seven and drags me out of bed to feed horses.” His gaze went to Ford. “So I'm a little short on shut-eye.” He yawned for emphasis. “Going home to bed.”

Ford propped his hands on his hips. “That leaves me without a ride.”

Caroline swallowed hard. “No problem. We can go to the café in my truck. I'll run you home after.”

His gaze, meeting hers, was hard to read. “Great. I'm interested to hear what you have to say.” He stepped forward and pressed the tips of his fingers against her shoulder blade. “Shall we?”

They got a few interested stares from lingering church members as she led the way to her truck. Caroline wanted to yell, “Just business!” at them but restrained herself. She wondered if Ford would prefer that she had.

She unlocked the truck from a distance with the electronic key and was surprised when he followed her to the driver's side to open the door.

“Th-thanks,” she said, after climbing in with as much grace as she could manage in a dress.

“You're welcome.” He shut the door, came around the back and swung into the passenger seat with a cowboy's smooth control.

“You're still at home in a truck, I see.” She let her gaze brush over him as she turned her head to reverse out of the parking space. “Do you drive one in San Francisco?”

“I've got a Mercedes for town. The clients prefer it.”

“Do they know your ranch background at the law office?”

“My partners are aware. I have some pictures in my office, but most people don't notice. They're concerned with their own issues, not mine.”

“Not like Bisons Creek, where everybody wants to hear your business?”

“Not remotely like Bisons Creek, which has its good and bad points.”

The drive to Kate's Café took all of three minutes. Caroline parked in a spot the next block up—one of the five blocks that made up Main Street—because the lot around the restaurant was full. They didn't talk as they walked to the café, but the never-ending Wyoming wind blew her hair in all directions.

Caroline sighed. She would be giving an important presentation to the most intelligent, educated and sophisticated man she knew in front of at least half of the town's citizens, and she'd look as if she'd walked through a tornado. Great.

Ford held the door open for her again when they reached the café. The bell on the handle rang as he came through behind her, and every face in the building turned in their direction. Caroline kept her smile in place and scanned the suddenly silent crowd for a table.

“Here ya go, son.” Marvin Harris stood up from the table in the front corner. “The missus and I are done. You're welcome to sit here.”

“Thanks, Mr. Harris.” Ford shook the older man's hand and his wife's. “Good to see you, Mrs. Harris. How are those grandsons of yours? I hear they're real firecrackers.”

“You got that right.” Mr. Harris chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Caught them one day trying to fly out of the hay loft with a pair of wings they'd made out of cardboard. Lucky they didn't break their darn fool necks!” He turned to Caroline. “Hello, Missy. How's your mama these days?”

“Just fine, Mr. Harris, thank you.” At least, she hoped so. She hadn't visited with her mom in almost a month.

Mrs. Harris walked up to Ford and patted his arm. “It's about time you finished with this San Francisco foolishness, boy, and came back home where you belong. Get yourself a wife and some kids and settle down.” As she left, she gave Caroline a wink that Ford would surely notice. “You two have a nice afternoon.”

Just kill me now
, Caroline said to herself.
It can only get worse from here.

Chapter Two

By the time Ford had pulled out Caroline's chair and then settled into his own, one of the waitresses had come to clean the table. “Thanks, Angie.”

Caroline said the same thing at the same moment. Their gazes met and held before sliding apart.

“How's school?” Ford asked the waitress.

“Good.” The college sophomore gave him a grin. “I made the rodeo team. Cool, huh?”

He nodded. “As long as you remember to study for classes.”

Angie stuck her tongue out at him and turned to Caroline. “You rode for the University of Wyoming team, didn't you, Caroline?”

Caroline brushed her hair behind her shoulders. “For three years. I dropped out my senior year—too busy.”

The waitress sighed. “I'll never be too busy for rodeo. I'm hoping to go pro when I graduate.” She loaded up plates and glasses on one arm. “What can I get you two to drink?”

Caroline asked for water, Ford ordered a soda and Angie went on her way, which left them facing each other across the table. “Glad to be back in town?” Caroline asked him.

He gave a rueful smile. “Something of a challenge, I admit. The locals are ready to plan your life out for you, aren't they?”

“Oh, yes. Not to mention telling you exactly what you did wrong in the past.”

“But surely you don't hear that often. You were everybody's favorite rodeo queen.”

She rolled her eyes and frowned. “Hardly.”

“Oh, definitely. That's how I remember you—prom queen, homecoming queen, rodeo queen.” Her expression didn't lighten. “You won all the votes, every time.” For good reason, since she'd been the prettiest girl in the school.

Not to mention the daughter of one of the richest ranchers in Johnson County. “Is your mother doing well? Your brother still riding bulls?” He wouldn't bring up her dad. They were likely to have very different perspectives on George Donnelly.

She met his gaze, and he was surprised to see sadness in her eyes. “I haven't talked to Reid for...a while. My mom says he's doing okay, but will be retiring from the rodeo pretty soon to come back and work on the ranch with Daddy.”

“That'll be...interesting.” As much as he enjoyed working with his own family, Ford didn't envy Caroline's brother a life with his father as his boss. His own dad had spent ten faithful years working at the Donnelly ranch and, from what Ford remembered, George Donnelly had been a tough taskmaster.

He also remembered how, just months after his mom's death, Donnelly had fired his dad without a second thought. The resulting downward spiral had cost him and his brothers their remaining parent. Though Donnelly couldn't logically be held responsible for his dad becoming an alcoholic and killing himself in a car accident two years later, his indifference certainly hadn't improved the situation.

But the Marshall boys had turned out just fine without anybody's help. Wyatt's strong hand and determination had seen them through. In the end, the only people you could rely on were your family.

“Working with my dad is a challenge,” Caroline said, in an unexpected echo of Ford's thoughts. “I'm not sure Reid will stick it out. He can be pretty volatile himself.”

Angie reappeared with their drinks. “What can I get y'all to eat? Chicken fried steak is the special today,” she announced. “Comes with mashed potatoes, green beans and Kate's homemade rolls.”

“Sounds great,” he and Caroline said in unison. Again.

“That'll be two.” Angie wrote on her notepad. “Back in a bit.”

When Ford looked over at Caroline, she had set her forearms on the edge of the table and leaned a little toward him. He gathered they were about to get down to business.

“We're here,” she started, “because I want to tell you what I'm planning. This is a project Garrett and I are very excited about, and I think the Circle M Ranch would be the perfect setting to use.” Her expressive face wore the prize-winning smile he'd never forgotten.

Ford drew a breath and relaxed into his chair. “Okay, I'm ready. Go for it.”

She talked without stopping for at least fifteen minutes while Angie delivered their plates and refilled his drink, while he ate and Caroline took a bite here and there. Ford listened and didn't interrupt—she was clearly in the moment and very prepared with numbers and details, genuinely committed to her plan. Only when she actually finished and sat silent for almost a minute did he try to get a word in edgewise.

“You've worked hard on this.”

She nodded, chewing a bite of her steak.

“And you're really driven to succeed with it.”

Another even more vigorous nod of her head.

“So let me go over what I've understood from your presentation. You want to start up a summer program for at-risk teenagers—the ones who have gotten into trouble at school, or with the law, or who have problems at home, like documented abuse. Not hardened criminals, but kids who still could be rescued and sent in a different, safer direction.”

“That's right.” She took a sip of water. “I've screened all the children I work with very carefully to identify the right kids for the group. I don't want to put anybody at risk. I just want to give them a different experience, a chance to see that they can succeed in life.”

“Right. And the kids in your program will reside at the Circle M, where they would be expected to learn how to do ranch work—riding, herding, roping, feeding, treating...whatever is on the schedule for me and my brothers to do, the kids would also do.”

“Yes. I know they would have a learning curve—none of them have a ranching background.”

“So they would have to learn how to ride, and ride pretty well. They'd have only a couple of weeks to acquire the kind of skills it takes a ranch hand several years to master.”

“You would be doing the main part of the work, but you'd be doing it anyway, so it's not a loss for you.”

“As long as they didn't do anything dumb and hurt themselves.”

“Well—”

“But you're expecting us to be there to protect them and see that they don't get injured, along with doing our own work.”

“I know it's asking something extra, but I'll be there, too, so I could do a lot of the supervision and help out—I was a pretty good roper in my day.”

“Sure. And you were a champion rider. I get that. What about the legal liabilities? Will the parents sign a waiver and a consent form, just in case something does happen?”

“People stay at working guest ranches all the time, Ford. They agree to hold the owner and the ranch workers blameless in case of injuries or...or death...if something happens. We would cover the Circle M and the Marshalls the same way. The parents would agree to it. And we'd have a medical consent form in case we needed care fast.”

“There is no fast medical care in Bisons Creek.”

“Ah, but there you're wrong. We have a doctor coming to town this summer, and she'll be opening her own clinic. If something happened, we'd be just a few minutes away.”

“Progress is wonderful,” he said drily. “So these kids, who aren't the most upstanding citizens, are going to live and work at the ranch for three months, with access to our animals, our equipment, tools and house. We're supposed to trust they won't do any damage or take anything. We have computers, you know. Cell phones. TVs and radios and audio equipment. There's beer in the fridge, whiskey in the sideboard. But you believe your kids will be immune to the temptations.”

Caroline was quiet for a moment, staring down at the table in front of her. Then she looked up at him. “I have to be honest—three of the boys were caught stealing candy from a gas station a few weeks ago. The manager took them to court, for their own good, he said.”

Ford sat up straight in his chair. “And you want to bring them into our home?”

“They're boys, Ford. Little more than children. The judge was going to sentence them to community service all summer, but I persuaded her to let me try this program. I want to show these kids where choosing the right side can take you. I think they will be immune because bad behavior will carry penalties.”

“What kind of penalties?”

“If they fail this program, they return to the court system and end up with a juvenile record. They don't deserve that. They're not bad. Just confused.”

He blew out a deep breath, just as Angie sidled up to their table. “Dessert?”

Caroline shook her head. “I couldn't possibly.”

But Ford nodded. “Kate's apple pie? With ice cream?”

“Coming up.”

He'd welcomed the interruption, though it only delayed the inevitable. He wasn't a man who went around kicking puppies. But right now he felt like one.

Propping his elbows on the table, he captured Caroline's gaze with his. “Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do. I served several internships in family law, dealing with these kinds of kids. I mentored them. I wrote briefs for their court appearances. I investigated their home lives, their schools, their friends. Do you know what I saw?”

“What?”

“Nine out of ten didn't give a damn about what we were doing for them. And the ones who did couldn't escape, even if they wanted to. I don't think I caused meaningful change for a single kid I worked with.”

Caroline clasped her hands together on the table. “That's terribly sad. But does it mean you stop trying?”

He wasn't getting through to her. “Why are you so determined to implement this plan? What do you hope to gain?”

Her chin lifted, and a stubborn light came into her eyes. “Why are you so opposed to it?”

Ford shook his head. “You first.”

She blew out a short breath. “I honestly believe that everybody deserves a chance to succeed, regardless of their income, their family situation, their history. Kids in particular ought to be offered options for a better life. What I hope to gain is a better place to live for all of us.”

“So you're basically trying to save the world?” He meant it as a joke, to ease the tension.

Caroline didn't smile. “Somebody needs to. Why not me...and the Marshall brothers?”

“Because some people can't be saved.” Ford folded his arms across his chest. “No matter what you do for them, they break the rules out of self-interest and simple, downright meanness. In the process, they often hurt the people around them, including the ones trying to help them.”

“These are kids, Ford. They're not old enough for meanness.”

“This is my family, Caroline. This is our home, which I spend my life working to protect. You may believe a signature on a release form reduces our liability. As an attorney, I can tell you that lawsuits are easy to file and hard to evade. An injured kid could cost us thousands, even hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe cost us the ranch itself. More important, our reputations are vulnerable in this situation. One of those kids could claim they were molested on the ranch, and all of us would become suspect. Frankly, I've come too far in my professional and personal life to take that risk lightly. My brothers are good men—I would hate for them to deal with that kind of public harassment. You wouldn't be immune, either. Your job—your whole life—could be ruined because of a teenager's whim.”

She didn't flinch. “I think it's worth taking the chance.”

“I disagree.”

“You're saying no.” Her face was pale, her big eyes wider than ever and, as he watched, they started to shine with unshed tears.

He let his arms relax, resting his fingertips on the table. “I'm really sorry, Caroline. I understand what this means to you, what you hope it might mean to the kids. But I'm saying—”

Angie slid a saucer laden with pie and a huge scoop of ice cream across the table in front of him. “Jerk,” she said before walking away.

He used his index finger to move the scoop of ice cream from the table back on top of the pie. “What I'm saying is that I'll vote no when the time comes.”

Caroline frowned. “Vote?”

“That's how the Marshalls make decisions.” Ford pushed the plate away. He'd lost his appetite. “Everybody gets a vote on something that affects the ranch as a whole. Like this program of yours.”

“What do you do if there's a tie?”

“Wyatt's the boss, so he gets an extra vote if he wants one.”

Hope replaced despair in Caroline's pretty face. “So even if your vote is against me, there's still a chance that the Marshalls as a family would agree?”

Ford sat forward, resting his arms on the table. “My vote isn't against you.”

There wasn't anything about Caroline to vote against, that he could see. The tousled mahogany hair, the rosy cheeks and shining eyes, the way a lightweight yellow dress set off her curvy figure and slender legs... No, not a single thing to object to, in his opinion. “I don't consider your plan to be in our best interest. That's all.”

“Wyatt may think differently. Garrett certainly does. What happens then?”

“I guess you go forward with your project.”

“But you'd still oppose me?”

“If the family votes yes, I'll cooperate.”

She shook her head. “Spoken like a lawyer. I'll just have to hope that Wyatt and Dylan are willing to take a chance on my kids.”

“We'll talk it over and let you know as soon as we've reached a decision.”

She gave him a bright smile. “Then I guess the faster I get you home, the faster I'll hear the answer.”

Which gave him a fair idea of where he stood as far as Caroline Donnelly was concerned.

* * *

T
HOUGH
SHE
'
D
GROWN
UP
practically next door to the Marshall brothers, Caroline had never been to the Circle M Ranch. Yet here she was on a Sunday afternoon, driving Ford Marshall home. He looked relaxed enough in the passenger seat, but he seemed to fill up the space around her, which made getting a decent breath difficult. When she tried, his scent teased her nose with hints of pine and grass edged with an exotic tang she couldn't name.