a list, then went to the sink and turned the tap. Nothing.
So she wouldn’t be cleaning and she wouldn’t have heat until Ty got around to turning on the power. Perhaps Mr. Hopewell needed a nudge. Madeline had no intention of disturbing him any more than she had to during her stay, but she also had no intention of freezing to death.
She stepped outside, debating whether it was warmer inside or outside, then followed Ty’s tracks to the barn.
When she opened the door, Ty looked up from the contraption he was working on. He had a smudge of oil across his cheek and he seemed none too happy to see her. Or maybe he was ticked off at the machine…which was probably the generator.
Madeline had a feeling it was.
Ty shifted his scowl back to the machine. “It hasn’t been started in a while.”
“Will it start?” Because if not, she was on her way back down the mountain to the little town at the bottom. Except that she hadn’t seen anyplace to stay there.
“Hope so.”
“Does it have fuel?” Madeline asked.
No answer this time, so she concluded it was a stupid question. But she’d also learned during the course of her academic career at the university never to overlook the obvious.
Ty replaced the metal cover and tightened a wing nut. He put his finger on a toggle switch next to a gauge, then paused a second.
Madeline thought he was probably praying it wouldn’t start, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He flipped the switch and the machine began to shake as it chugged to life. And then the chug turned into a roar and the shaking turned into a steady vibration. Madeline automatically placed her hands over her ears and retreated out of the building. Ty followed, closing the door behind him and muting the sound. A little.
“Loud,” Madeline said as she dropped her hands.
“Welcome to life on a generator.” He started for Skip’s house and she followed. He stepped inside and went to the hallway, where he opened the furnace door and started banging around. A few seconds later a blast of heat shot out of the register next to Madeline. She stepped on top of it, sighing as the warmth blew up her pant legs.
“How about the water?”
“I’ll turn it on and get the hot-water heater going. Then…you’re on your own, although I have no idea what you’re going to do.”
“I’m going to clean this place up tonight, and tomorrow we’re going to meet.”
“What if it doesn’t work into my schedule?”
“Then you’d better fit me in, unless you do have something to hide.” Madeline said it without thinking, then instantly regretted it when Ty slowly turned back to her.
“You’re not much like your brother, are you?” Madeline opened her mouth to reply but before she could say anything, Ty added, “I never saw Skip go for the jugular like you do.”
She was not going for the jugular. She was being truthful.
“Maybe if Skip had been more like me, he wouldn’t have been in business with you and he wouldn’t…” Her voice trailed off. Ty swallowed—she saw his Adam’s apple move—then left the house without another word.
Madeline stared at the door. She wasn’t sure what exactly had gotten into her, but was beginning to suspect, now that she’d met Ty, that she still wanted to blame him for Skip’s death.
SHE WASN’T THE LEAST BIT like her brother in temperament or in coloring, true, but there were similarities. Facial expressions, the cadence of her speech, the faint accent.
Except, regardless of what she said, Ty was right. She did go for the jugular. She pinpointed his weakest point and then thrust in the knife. She’d done it twice now—stabs at his honesty and stabs at his integrity. He had no doubt she’d twist the knife, too, if he gave her the chance. She looked the type, all high-and-mighty and so sure she was right.
Alvin followed him to the house, then glanced up at him when Ty opened the door.
“Yeah, you’re sleeping inside.”
Alvin preferred to sleep outside, but Ty wanted the company tonight. His house was equipped with a cabin kit, a switch inside for his generator, which was newer, quieter, more fuel efficient than the one powering Skip’s place.
It rumbled to life in its shed behind his house and the lights came on. Ty went over to his desk and turned on the computer. He had to turn down that specialty-foods company toeing into the organic market. He wouldn’t be able to supply as much beef as they wanted. Because of the demand for hormone-free, antibiotic-free beef—despite a market recession—he was actually doing all right. But he wasn’t able to supply volume. Yet. That’s why the money went into his herd, equipment and ranch improvements. He needed to expand. Skip’s idea, really. Skip had been a financial whiz kid and a good business partner.
Madeline, not so much.
But she was fully within her rights being here, taking a look at the property, living in Skip’s house. Hell, she could live there forever. But Ty was within his rights not to work on that damned antique generator when it went down. That was her concern.
Ty pulled a cast-iron pan out from under the stove and flicked on a burner, trying not to look out the window at the lights in Skip’s house. Lights that hadn’t been on for almost two years. If he’d known how all this was going to work out, he would have bought two cows, ten acres and continued to work at the feedlot.
IT TOOK ALMOST AN HOUR for the hot-water tank to do its job. Madeline was too impatient to wait, so she started cleaning with paper towels and water, pretty much making mud on the silty counters during her first swipes, and then after rinsing the thankfully strong paper towels, eventually getting the surfaces clean.
Once the counters were done, Madeline regarded the floors, also silt-covered. When she’d first set foot in the house, she’d wondered why there was no carpeting. She didn’t wonder anymore. Carpet would be a commando dust trap, even with a supervacuum.
Right now she wished she had a SuperVac. Or a broom.
Madeline pressed a hand to her forehead, then went to the counter where her cell phone was plugged in, for all the good it would do. She turned it on and found that it was still searching for a signal. Crap. She knew there’d been a signal at the turnoff for Lone Sum Road, because she’d talked to her grandmother, fending off questions about why she wasn’t finishing the semester at the college. Eileen knew about Dr. Jensen, but Madeline hadn’t yet broken the news that she, too, was under investigation. Connor and her cousins were under strict orders not to let it slip. Madeline didn’t want her grandmother worrying about her, so she’d intimated that she had a grad student who needed teaching experience, thus freeing her to take care of business at the ranch. Eileen had more questions, but fortunately Madeline lost the signal as she started up Lone Sum Road. It had been a good thing, too, since the last few miles had required all of her attention.
She turned off the phone, set it back on the counter. Apparently if she wanted to make a call to Connor for moral support, she was going to have to drive to the bottom of the mountain to do it. Not tonight. She walked over to where her suitcases sat on
