gate swung open to give access. The lady gasped again and Ryan instantly understood why.
The sorrel horse with the distinctive white spot on his side standing near the crouched group surrounding the downed cowboy belonged to the crowd favorite.
His brother. Matt Montoya.
* * *
JUST WHEN ELLIE was beginning to think the dusty single-track road was never going to end, she rounded a corner and a rustic ranch spread out in front of her in postcardlike perfection. She pulled her leased Land Rover to a halt, taking in the large red barn and several smaller outbuildings on the edge of green fields. The single-story, shake-roofed house with a porch surrounding it on three sides nestled close to a stand of evergreen trees. Cows and horses grazed in the pastures and a pair of large birds flew in lazy circles over the pond at the edge of one of the fields.
Milo had bought the place eight months ago and since then had spent a grand total of one week there, shortly after the purchase, but didn’t seem to be able to stop talking about “his ranch” to anyone who would listen. Now Ellie understood why. It was gorgeous.
Gorgeous and really, really close.
After fifteen hours of travel Ellie was more than ready for a hot bath and a bed. Ten minutes later she parked at the end of the flagstone walk, not liking the fact that the place felt as deserted up close as it had appeared from a distance. Had Angela or Milo told the staff she’d be arriving? A question Ellie hadn’t thought to ask. Ellie, who always thought of everything.
She’d been rattled lately. Disorganized. Not herself.
Ellie rang the bell. After the second ring she knocked, then, after a suitable amount of time, tried the handle. Locked. Okay. She set down her handbag and stood for a moment, hands on hips, surveying the ranch, watching for some sign of movement around the barn and outbuildings. Nothing.
Great. Her feet hurt and the small of her back ached from sitting for too long and she wanted to get inside. Now.
She started walking around the house, her heels clunking hollowly on the wooden porch, looking for another way in and wondering if she was going to have to call Angela to get the number of the caretaker. She tried the side entrance, the back entrance, the sliding door. No luck. She’d just pulled her phone from her jacket pocket when she heard the sound of an engine.
Salvation.
Ellie rounded the corner of the house in time to see a woman with long dark hair scramble out of the open Jeep.
“Miss Bradworth?” she called as she strode up the walk, her long flannel shirt flapping loosely over very worn jeans.
“Hunter,” Ellie called back. “Mrs. Bradworth is my aunt.”
“Oh.” The woman quickly crossed the distance between them, taking the porch steps two at a time. “Sorry about the wait. I didn’t know you were coming until half an hour ago.”
“Really?” How was that possible?
The woman held out a wad of keys and then, after Ellie automatically took them, shoved her hands into her back pockets. “I was in town when Walt called and got here as quickly as I could. I hope you haven’t waited for too long.”
There was nothing about the woman’s tone that was impolite, but there was nothing that was particularly friendly, either. Ellie felt rather like an interloper. Well, she was an interloper related to the owner of this place.
“Thanks for hurrying,” Ellie said, holding out her free hand. “Ms....”
“Garcia. Jessie Garcia.” Jessie met her gaze directly as they shook hands and Ellie was struck by how really gorgeous the woman was, with high cheekbones and amazing dark eyes.
“I’m Ellison Hunter. Milo and Angela’s niece.”
“Will you be staying long?”
“My stay is open-ended.”
Jessie pulled her mouth into a polite smile, yet Ellie sensed she was not pleased with the answer. Why?
Probably because life was easier when the staff had the place to themselves.
“I hope you enjoy your time here,” Jessie said coolly.
“I’m sure I will.”
“There’s no fresh food in the house, but you should be able to find some things in the freezer and pantry.”
“Thanks.”
Jessie smiled slightly then started back down the steps.
“Excuse me,” Ellie called, waiting for the woman to turn back before she said, “How can I get hold of Mr. Feldman?”
“Walt?” A shadow crossed Jessie’s face. “It’s Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“It’s his day off.”
“I see. And after that?”
“I’ll have him give you a call. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
Ellie had the distinct impression that Jessie wanted to escape and was getting annoyed at the prolonged conversation, but her tone was courteous when she said, “Anything else?”
I want to meet with the staff.... But she’d pass that along through Mr. Feldman when they got a chance to talk. “Not right now.”
“Well, have a good one.”
The woman climbed into the Jeep. It coughed once, then the engine caught and roared to life. Jessie raised a hand then turned the Jeep into a tight U and sped back down the road in the direction from which she’d come.
Ellie held up the ring of nine keys, frowned a little and then picked one at random. Surprisingly, it slid into the lock and the mechanism clicked open. A bed and a bath awaited.
Maybe her luck was changing for the better.
CHAPTER TWO
RYAN HAD HAD his share of knocks in life, but he was having a hard time recalling a day where he’d had two big emotional wallops back-to-back like this.
Right now he had no idea where his father was, what he was doing or thinking or planning—although it had better not involve his mother—but he knew exactly where his brother was: lying in a hospital with a career-ending crushed leg. Ryan was more shaken by the accident than he wanted to admit.
For almost two decades, Matt had been his fiercest roping competition, and for fifteen of those years, he’d known they were half brothers, thanks to a painful heart-to-heart with his mother after that fistfight in the rodeo grounds’ john. That conversation had explained why Matt hated him so much—because he existed.
Well, Ryan was pissed at the situation himself. They shared a father, but Matt had been the son with a father in residence. Matt had been the son with the fancy horses and trucks and trailers. He’d enjoyed
