“Two weeks! Hell, Blake, that’s a long time for me to stay down at Red Bluff.”
Saddle leather creaked as Matthew Waggoner twisted around to look at Blake Hollister, his boss and manager of Three Rivers Ranch.
With a grunt of amusement, Blake leaned forward and fondly stroked the neck of the bay horse he was riding. “What’s the matter? Afraid this place will fall apart without you?”
Matthew stared out at the herd of cattle grazing on tuffs of grass hidden among the thorny cacti and chaparral. The Arizona landscape was rough and rugged, especially in this area of the seventy-thousand-acre ranch. And with each day taking them nearer the end of October, the grass was getting as scarce as hens’ teeth.
“Three Rivers would never miss me.”
A moment passed in silence, and in the distance a coyote let out a lonesome howl, signaling that twilight was falling on the jagged peaks and deep arroyos cut by centuries of flash floods.
“No. After having you around for fourteen years, we’d never realize you were gone.” He muttered a curse. “Don’t give me that bull, Matthew. You know why I’m sending you to Red Bluff. I can’t trust anyone with the job but you.”
The Hollisters’ second ranch was located in the southern part of the state, near the tiny town of Dragoon. Although at thirty-five-thousand acres, Red Bluff was only half the size of Three Rivers, it was blessed with sheltered green valleys where mama cows and calves could graze during the deepest part of winter. Each October, they shipped a large herd of cattle to Red Bluff, so this was nothing new for Matthew. Except that normally, he finished the job in two days. Not two weeks.
Lifting his hat a few inches from his head, Matthew raked fingers through the blond curls flattened to his scalp. “Are you sending the same five men with me that went last year?” he asked.
“Yes, plus one more. Scott is going along, too.”
Matthew jammed the hat back down on his head and drew in a deep breath. “Guess that means we’d better take another cot for the bunk house. There’s hardly enough room for five beds, but we’ll jam another one in there somehow.”
“Forget about an extra cot,” Blake said. “I’ve already told Camille that you’ll be staying in the big house with her.”
Stunned, Matthew swung his head toward the other man. “You did what?”
“You heard me. You’ll be staying in the ranch house. There’s plenty of room and my sister won’t bother you.”
Bother him! Camille Hollister had bothered him ever since she’d grown into a woman more than ten years ago. But Blake hardly needed to know that bit of private information.
“I’ve always stayed in the bunkhouse with the men,” Matthew reasoned. “I don’t want to set myself apart from them.”
Blake said, “You’re the foreman and their boss. And they see you as such. Besides, you’re the only man I’d trust in the house with Camille.”
Careful to hide his reluctance, he said, “I don’t expect your sister is going to appreciate this setup.”
“Camille doesn’t own or run Red Bluff Ranch. She’s simply staying there until—” He broke off, a sour grimace on his face. “She gets that damned head of hers on straight,” he said sourly.
Camille had left for Red Bluff more than two years ago, and since that time she’d not been back once to Three Rivers. The whole family believed she was still pining for the no-account bastard who’d broken their engagement. As for Matthew, he refrained from expressing any sort of opinion as to why the youngest member of the Hollister family had chosen to stay away. He only knew it was going to be worse than awkward sharing the ranch house with her.
“She’s been down there a long time,” Matthew said. “I expect by now she’s thinking straight.”
“Then why the hell doesn’t she come home?” Blake asked, directing the question as much to himself as to Matthew. “It’s no wonder that Mom is in such a dark state of mind. And Camille could do plenty to make it better for her, but no, she’s too busy thinking about herself.”
Matthew inwardly winced. It wasn’t often that Blake voiced such strong opinions about his siblings. Usually, he was very easygoing and especially forgiving. This ire directed at Camille was unlike him. But the weight the man carried on his shoulders as manager of Three Rivers was far more than Matthew could begin to bear.
“You think that’s what your sister is doing?” Matthew asked.
“I don’t know. I’m tired of trying to figure her out.” He reined his horse in the direction of the ranch house. “Let’s go. It’s going to be dark before we get back to the ranch yard.”
Matthew guided the buckskin
