It’ll be someone from the ranch.”
She darted another glance at him. This time his eyes were shut, his head resting against the back of the seat. Even with that angry wound above his ear and a pale face, he still managed to look incredibly strong and handsome.
Unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, “You have a ranch?”
“It belongs to my family.”
“So you do ranch work along with being a detective for the sheriff’s office?”
“Since about ten years ago, I haven’t done much cowboy work. That’s when I started working as a deputy.”
He was telling her that he lived on the ranch but didn’t work there. How did that situation sit with the rest of his family? she wondered. And what kind of family did this man have? Did it include a wife and children? Somehow she didn’t think so. He didn’t have the look of a man who’d been roped and tied by a woman.
What the heck has come over you, Noelle? Whether this man, or any man, is married should mean nothing to you. You don’t want one in your life. He wouldn’t be worth the heartache.
Shutting her mind to the mocking voice in her head, she asked, “What did the doctor say about your injury? They kept you back there so long I thought you must’ve been going through brain surgery.”
“Sorry you had such a long wait. After the doc finally studied the scans of my head, he said I have a concussion. He prescribed something for the pain and ordered me to take it easy the next few days. And not to get another lick on the head. I told him I wouldn’t be riding Lonesome anytime soon.”
Lonesome. The horse’s name fit Noelle perfectly, she thought. Aloud she said, “I liked your paint. You wouldn’t think about selling him to me, would you?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him looking at her with comical surprise. “Are you kidding me?”
“I don’t do much kidding, Detective Calhoun.”
“My name is Evan. Call me that, will you?”
In her mind, she’d already been calling him Evan. But he hardly needed to know she’d been thinking about him in such a familiar way. “All right, Evan. Now what about the horse? While I was unsaddling him, I looked him over. He has big strong bones, great withers and a nice soft eye. The two of us have already decided we like each other.”
He studied her for a long, thoughtful moment before he finally replied, “I’ll have to ask my brother. He handles the ranch’s remuda.”
She frowned as she maneuvered the truck into the passing lane. “Your ranch has a remuda?”
“Why, yes. Every ranch has a remuda.”
She supposed he was technically right. Even a small spread like hers needed a horse. Only the word remuda meant a collective string of them. And her string consisted of three.
“Now that we’re talking about ranching,” he went on, “I’m still trying to figure out if I heard you right today. You work that place of yours all by yourself?”
“That’s right. I can’t afford help. And even if I could, I prefer doing things my own way and at my own pace.”
He lifted his head to look at her. Though she could see him only in her peripheral vision, the sight was enough to rattle her senses. Without even trying, he was one of the sexiest men she’d ever crossed paths with. Being confined in the truck cab with him reminded her just how long it had been since she’d felt a man’s arms around her.
“How do you manage it all alone?” he asked. “As we rode to your house, I spotted a fairly large herd of cattle.”
He sounded clearly astounded. Noelle figured the women in his life were probably a different breed from her. Most likely they were the soft, delicate sort who looked great in lingerie but acted helpless in a feedlot. Sometimes in the quiet darkness of the night, she wished she could be that woman, if only for an hour or two. But that wouldn’t pay the bills or put food on the table. She had to be strong and capable. Always.
“Only a hundred fifty head. Doesn’t take much work to feed that many cattle in the winter. In the summer, when grass is available, I can concentrate on other things. And when it comes time for branding and working, I call on the day hands who work over on the Double X.”
“Hmm. So how long have you had your place?”
Ever since her beloved aunt and uncle had died and her snake-in-the-grass ex had shown his true colors, she thought grimly. To Evan, she said, “Four years—give or take a few months. My aunt Geneva and uncle Rob willed it to me with the stipulation that I use it to produce livestock. And that I never sell the property.”
“You said ‘willed it.’ Did they die?”
She winced as a pain of regret traveled through her. “Together. In a car accident.”
“That’s too bad. They must’ve thought a lot of you.”
“They didn’t have any children, and the three of us were always close. To be honest, I was shocked when I found out they’d left the place to me. They owned a little ranch of their own in the Prescott area, but I had no idea they owned land here in Nevada.”
“So Prescott is where you’re from originally?”
“No. I lived in Phoenix. But I spent every summer and weekend I could with my aunt and uncle. That’s where I learned about horses and cattle. Uncle Rob had done that all his life. He taught me a lot.”
“I see. So you decided to take on the challenge of turning the land here in Nevada into something.”
Actually, she’d first thought of her move from Phoenix to Nevada as an escape, not a challenge. She’d wanted to get away from the crushing pain of her divorce and her clueless parents. But it hadn’t taken long for her to begin to see the property as the future instead of a refuge.
“Something like that,” she murmured.
He didn’t say anything more. After a few moments passed, she looked over to see he’d closed his eyes and was once again resting his head against the back of the seat. No doubt his injury was causing him some misery. Talking probably made it worse.
That was okay with her. She’d already shared more about herself with this man in the past few minutes than she’d ever told anyone. What in the heck was that about? Since her brother, Andy, was killed five years ago, looking at any person wearing a law-enforcement badge had left her cold. So why was she spilling her personal life to this one? It didn’t make sense. Except that he seemed different somehow from the cool, professional policemen who’d tried to explain away an eighteen-year-old’s death.
Doing her best to shove the confusing doubts and questions from her mind, she concentrated on the traffic and hoped Evan didn’t drift off to sleep before giving her directions to his home.
As if reading her thoughts, he suddenly spoke. “Before you get to the Washoe Lake turnoff, there’s a gravel road that goes west. Take it. Three miles in, you’ll see the entrance to the Silver Horn. Cross the cattle guard and stay on that road until you reach the ranch
