stumbled into the kitchen as Mariah was sipping tea and eating oatmeal. He served himself a bowl and stared at it bleakly. He showed an equal lack of interest in the eggs and whole-grain toast that Grams put on the table. Mariah knew from the light under his door last night that he’d been up late studying. He needed to get more sleep, but it was hypocritical to urge him to get good grades and then interfere with his studies.
“I saw you take food to Caitlin O’Donnell,” she said to her grandfather.
“The purple streaks in her hair are a nice touch, but she’s death on a stick gussied up in so much black. I’ll have to teach her to have fun.” Granddad rubbed his palms together and Mariah figured he was the one who would enjoy himself the most. Benjamin Weston was a kid at heart.
“You won’t have a chance—you aren’t the O’Donnells’ wrangler,” she said edgily. But it wasn’t her grandfather who aggravated her; it was the thought of Jacob O’Donnell believing he could dump his daughter’s problems on someone else. No one at the U-2 had time to babysit an unruly, privileged teen. “I don’t want any of us to get involved. Her father didn’t go into details, but apparently she has issues to resolve. We need to let him deal with them.”
“Teaching her to have fun won’t do any harm.”
“For heaven’s sake, Reid and Mariah have enough to handle without your interfering, Benjamin,” Grams scolded, sitting down with the rest of them.
“Guess you’ll have to keep me busy.”
Mariah knew they’d clasped hands underneath the table. Above all, Granddad was a romantic. However hectic things might be, late every afternoon he and her grandmother strolled up the shallow valley, arm in arm, as if they were still a courting couple. That was how Mariah wanted things to be with Luke, a closeness that just kept growing.
Elizabeth poured milk into her tea. “What about Caitlin’s mom? She should be here if her child is in trouble.”
“She wasn’t mentioned, but I feel sorry for anyone married to that guy,” Mariah said. “I bet they’re divorced.”
“Mmm, not necessarily. He’s quite attractive.”
“And rich. Shame on you, Grams,” Mariah teased. “What will Granddad think?”
“That I’m a normal, red-blooded woman who can appreciate a hunk from a purely aesthetic point of view.”
Granddad chuckled. “And fortunately I’m so handsome I don’t have to worry.”
Mariah ate her last bite of oatmeal and dropped the spoon in the bowl. It was time to start the day, one she hoped would turn out better than the previous...especially when it came to Jacob O’Donnell. She’d made a resolution to treat him the same as any other guest, no matter how much he annoyed her. The trick would be keeping that resolution.
Reid headed to the barn while Mariah and her grandfather went down to the mess tent where the wranglers were gathered for coffee. She loved seeing Granddad transform from cheerful jokester to tough-but-fair ranch boss. He didn’t know a ledger sheet from a gum wrapper, but he understood the practical end of ranching like nobody else. Ben Weston was close to a legend in Montana. She was trying to learn as much as possible from him before he retired.
“Hey, Mariah,” whispered a voice as she entered the tent. It was Caitlin O’Donnell.
“Go on,” she told her grandfather, who smiled at the teen.
Mariah looked back at Caitlin. “You’re up early. Is something wrong?” The first slivers of sunlight were barely visible on the eastern horizon.
“Um, yeah.” The agitated girl shifted from one foot to the other. “There’s an animal in my dad’s side of the tent. A really big animal. I think it’s a wolf and he’s snoring. He must have come in for the steak Mr. Weston gave me. I put the plate by the bed ’cause Dad was already asleep. Omigod, he’s dead and it’s my fault because I didn’t wake him up.”
Mariah hesitated.
She fully intended to make Jacob O’Donnell deal with his own daughter, only some things were ranch business, not personal. “I bet it’s just Pip.”
“Pip?” Caitlin trailed after her.
“Our dog—part Alaskan malamute and part mystery mutt. He’s a mooch and a thief, with a snore that raises the rafters, but harmless aside from that.”
They crept up to the tent.
“Pip, get out here,” Mariah whispered.
Pip’s distinctive snore continued unabated.
She gave Caitlin a sideways glance. “Go get some sausages from the cook in the black cowboy hat. Tell him they’re for Pip.”
The teen took off for the cooking area at a run. Mariah thought her reaction showed how much she loved her dad, though she’d probably deny it. In less than three minutes, Caitlin was back with a bowl of grilled sausages.
“Want a sausage, Pip?” Mariah asked softly.
Pip made a slurping sound. Within two seconds, he appeared through the tent flap, a happy, overgrown goof of a dog.
Caitlin released a tiny shriek and then clapped her palms to her mouth.
“Here you are, you old bandit,” Mariah said, setting the bowl in front of the animal. Pip inhaled every scrap. She scratched behind his ears and his tail wagged, merrily unrepentant at being caught where he wasn’t allowed. They’d tried to get him to understand that some people were nervous around dogs, but he couldn’t be convinced.
Everybody was Pip’s friend.
“He woke up because you asked if he wanted sausage?” Caitlin breathed, extending a cautious hand. Pip darted over, delighted to get attention from anyone willing to offer it—men, women, young, old, city dweller or country lover. He was a very democratic canine. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Mariah straightened. “If I tried getting him out any other way, it would wake everyone up.”
“Is he the reason we shouldn’t keep food in the tents?”
“One of them. We also get mice and ants and squirrels, among other beasties. Go on,” she said, motioning toward the mess tent. “You can meet whoever’s awake and let your dad get more sleep.”
* * *
JACOB STARED at the dark roof of the tent as Kittie’s and Mariah’s voices faded. It was almost like hearing his daughter the way she used to be—normal and well-adjusted.
He stretched. After midnight he’d woken up and checked on Kittie, eaten the corn bread he’d found on a plate of food by the bed and crawled into his sleeping bag. Later the dog woke him up again, but he’d been too exhausted to care. The animal was wearing a collar—what harm could it do?
Reaching over, he switched on the battery lamp. The remains of a steak, beans and coleslaw were scattered across his silk shirt. It seemed symbolic of his relationship with Kittie—an utter disaster.
“Argh.”
