career.
Jewel dumped the syringes in a bucket full of sterilizing fluid. “He’s taken.”
James shrugged as he stowed the coolers inside the barn’s cabinet. “Like all Lovelands, he can charm the birds from the trees, as Grandma would have said.”
“Example?” Jewel challenged.
James opened his mouth, then shut it.
“Exactly. We can’t blame the Lovelands for causing our feud anymore. Clyde Farthington killed Maggie Cade for her brooch and his jealousy over her secret love affair with Everett Loveland. Our ancestors jumped to the wrong conclusions when they found Everett beside Maggie’s body and hanged him without giving him a trial.”
“Cora’s Tear was still found on their land,” James insisted, referring to the priceless fifty-carat sapphire their ancestor had mined from the Yugo Gulch along with enough silver to buy their land and establish their ranch.
“Because Maggie hid it at her and Everett’s meeting spot so Clyde wouldn’t get his greedy hands on it, remember?” Jewel pulled off her gloves and washed her hands in a small stainless sink. “Besides, after Cole and Katlynn found Cora’s Tear, they returned it to Ma.”
“Fine,” James grumbled. “But what about Boyd and Ma?”
Jewel recoiled, drying her hands on a stiff brown paper towel. “You think Boyd only wants Ma for her money? That she has nothing else to offer? You married Sofia, and she had nothing.”
James took Jewel’s place at the sink. “That’s different.”
“Yeah, because at least Ma and Boyd were childhood sweethearts until her parents broke them up.” Jewel lobbed the balled-up towel into a large plastic trash barrel.
“And who’s going to pay for their monthlong honeymoon to Europe?” Without waiting for an answer, James forged on, soaping up his hands. “Ma.”
“What if she is paying?” Jewel leaned over to scratch a barn cat’s ears and imagined her mother at Loveland Hills, packing, laughing and talking with her new husband about how excited she was to be taking this trip tomorrow, the one she had dreamed about for a lifetime. “A woman can spend her money how she pleases.” Though why waste it on a honeymoon? Jewel would never be as happy as her mother was being married; she just wasn’t the girlie-wife type, as her father put it.
“I’m just saying.” James paused to grab a paper towel. “Going to watch Heath Loveland perform is one thing. Just don’t get romantically entangled like Ma. He’ll try to persuade you to change your mind about the easement, convince you not to fight their court case when it was a fair judgment.” James tossed away the paper towel and peered down at her. At six feet two inches, he had her by over a foot. “We’re fighting this lawsuit, no matter how Ma feels. This is Cade land. Defend it.
“Heath is nothing to me.” Though no denying, the deep blue of his eyes had rattled her last night. “And I’ve always defended our family and this ranch, which is why it’s time you made me range boss.”
“When I feel one of you has proven yourself, I’ll make the call.” James cranked the barn fans’ lever. They blew with a loud, buzzing roar. “Until then—”
“You’ll continue being a control freak who should delegate tasks to spend more time with your growing family?” Jewel’s balled hands landed on her hips.
James stared at her for a moment, then shook his head, smiling. “Now you sound like Sofia.”
She snorted. “Another woman you need to listen to more.”
James laughed. “You do beat all.”
“Just as long as I beat Justin.” Jewel crossed to pet her stallion’s broad black nose. “It’s still between us, right?”
James nodded.
“He’s already got extra work teaching ranching skills at Fresh Start,” Jewel said, mentioning the rehab facility run by Justin’s fiancée, former army chaplain Brielle Thompson. “But Cade Ranch...” She pointed at the rolling slopes leading up to Mount Sopris’s peak. “It’s all I have.”
James squinted at her. “Maybe that’s not a good thing.”
“I’m not cut out for marriage or a family like the rest of you.” Jewel buried her head in Bear’s warm, velvety neck.
“How do you know?”
She closed her eyes, shutting out the rising memories of her father’s criticism and dismissal. She didn’t measure up to what women...wives...mothers were supposed to be. “Promise you’ll decide who’s range boss by summer’s end.”
James considered her, then nodded slowly. “I can live with that.”
She blew out a relieved breath, pressed a quick kiss on Bear’s nose and headed for the calves. A sense of contentment stole through her as she assessed the injection and branding sites for irritation. This was her world...and for her, there was nothing else.
Now she only had to convince James by the end of the summer, and she’d have everything she ever wanted.
* * *
“GOOD EVENING, CARBONDALE. Temperatures today peaked at ninety-eight degrees with humidity at twelve percent. Severe drought conditions continue to expand across Colorado, and that means an elevated fire danger just about statewide,” announced a local weatherman.
Heath dropped the ice cream scooper in the carton to crank up the radio’s volume.
“A T-shaped swath of northern and central Colorado is listed as abnormally dry with record-breaking temperatures continuing into next week.”
Heath swore under his breath and his sister, Sierra, groaned. She finger-combed her long blond hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band. “We’ll be lucky if we get through this summer without a major forest fire.” As a wildlife veterinarian, weather extremes were her greatest fear.
“And without losing any cattle.” Heath plopped vanilla ice cream into a bowl and passed it to his adopted brother, Daryl, who drizzled fudge topping on it.
“We’ve got to keep the herd intact.” Daryl’s light blue eyes gleamed beneath black brows.
“How come, Pa?” Daryl’s eight-year-old daughter, Emma, twirled on the ranch house’s bare wood floor in stocking feet.
“Nothing for you to worry about, darlin’.” Daryl ruffled Emma’s fine blond hair. He, Sierra and Heath exchanged silent, anxious glances. Any cattle loss put them closer to foreclosure. “Want sprinkles?”
Emma jumped. “Yes! Can I have a lot?”
“You got it, honey.” Sierra held up two containers. “Chocolate or rainbow?”
“Rainbow.” Emma pointed to the colorful bow around the bun she’d worn to dance class. “I want to match like Grandma Joy.”
“Can I have chocolate?” Daryl’s six-year-old son, Noah, scooted
