The Missing Heir

Settling himself on the rail beside her, he forced his attention to the girl, who was riding what he realized was a truly magnificent Arabian gelding. Yasmin, who looked to be no older than six, handled the horse as though born in the saddle. If Ms. Crowley had trained the girl—her daughter?—then she was to be complimented on her teaching ability.

“You were almost perfect today,” Marigold told Yasmin when she dismounted and started to lead the Arabian toward the stables. “Stan’ll help you take care of Sheik. Then there’s milk and cookies in the kitchen while you wait for your mother to pick you up.”

Not her child, then, Russ thought. He jumped down from the rail and held a hand toward Marigold, but she smiled and slid off without his assistance. Were her eyes really the color of sherry or was he imagining it?

“So you came about the ad,” she said.

“I did.”

“Lucy’s in the far paddock. This way.”

Russ followed her, trying not to notice the enticing sway of her jean-clad butt. What the hell was wrong with him today? He could take or leave any woman, and this one was certainly off-limits. He lengthened his stride until he walked even with her.

“Lucy’s sort of stubborn, but a real sweetie,” Marigold said. “And smart. She learned the name I gave her in no time.”

“You changed her name?”

Marigold favored him with another smile. “She was an estray, as we call them in Nevada, so I didn’t know her name. I don’t think she ever ran with a wild mustang herd, but she sure isn’t from around here, because I placed an ad last year after she wandered by, and no one ever claimed her. I’d like to keep her.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, she’s expensive to feed and I really have no use for a draft horse.”

He liked her friendliness and the candid way she spoke. Plus that sexy voice… Enough! He needed to remember why he was here.

“I’m Russ Simon,” he said, “and I breed and raise draft horses for leasing.”

“My name’s Mari,” she told him. “Mari— Crowley.”

Had she hesitated briefly before saying her last name or had he imagined it?

“And there,” she added, stopping to point, “is Lucy.”

Russ wrenched his gaze from her and looked at the big mare in the field they’d come to.

“She’s a dapple-gray, as you can see,” Mari said, opening the gate.

Russ stared at the mare. It wasn’t possible. He headed for the horse, unable to believe his eyes. After reaching Lucy, he crooned softly to her while he closely examined her color. “She’s a Blue,” he said finally.

Mari blinked. A Blue? What was he talking about? “Lucy looks gray to me.”

He smiled at her and she blinked again. It hadn’t escaped her that Russ was one of the best-looking men she’d ever met, with the most fascinating green eyes. As if that weren’t enough, his smile was devastating. Plus, his jeans and shirt emphasized all the right places.

“I raise Blues,” he told her. “The color distinction is subtle, but it’s there.”

Mari shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I’ve been told the Blues descended from chargers used for jousting in the days of knights and fair maidens.” He sketched a bow. “Were I a knight I’d ask for a token from you to wear.”

Russ Simon was a charmer, and to her sorrow, she’d learned all about his type two years ago. She’d do well to keep that in mind. Trying to deflect the warmth seeping through her from his admiring gaze, she said, “I’ve often wondered where the knights put those tokens, considering they were pretty well encased in armor. Are you interested in Lucy?”

“Definitely. Just let me take a closer look to see if I can figure out her age.”

“From her teeth and the way she kicks up her heels when she feels like it, I’d say she’s no more than five or six, so she’d make a good broodmare for you.”

He nodded, his attention fixed on Lucy. By the time he finished his inspection of the mare, she was obviously entranced with him. No wonder, the way he stroked her in all the places a horse enjoyed, while he crooned softly to her. Mari couldn’t clamp down on her imagination quickly enough to prevent her from wondering if he knew how to caress a woman in the same loving way.

Gritting her teeth, she forced her mind back to viewing him as a possible buyer rather than a possible lover—that she didn’t need. What she did need desperately, was to sell Lucy before she ran out of money to feed her.

“I’ll buy her,” he said. “Name your price.”

“I intended to ask five hundred.”

“Out of the question. Lucy’s worth at least a thousand. I’d consider her a bargain at that. If you’ll keep her here for a while, I’ll throw in three hundred more for board while I arrange to have her shipped to Michigan.”

Mari did her best to conceal her surprised elation. “That seems more than fair. I’ll be glad to board her until you’re ready.”

Russ glanced at the ridge of mountains to the west and took a deep breath. “That’s sage I smell along with the lilacs, right?” At her nod, he added, “Do you happen to know if there’s any land for sale around here? I came to Nevada to look for a place to start a second horse farm.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, staring at the Sierras instead.

“Actually, there’s an old ranch for sale just a few miles down the road from here.”

He swung around to focus on her, those green eyes catching her gaze so that she couldn’t move. Why was she so attracted to this man? Especially since she knew better than to get involved with another charmer.

“I’d ride over to look at that ranch if I had a horse a bit smaller than Lucy,” he told her.

He did have a car, after all. She meant to agree that Lucy certainly wasn’t a riding horse, and leave it at that, but what emerged was, “I’ve got other horses besides Lucy. We could both saddle up. That way I can show you where the ranch is.”

As he took her up on her offer, she told herself her impulsiveness didn’t matter, since nothing would come of this anyway, considering how little time she had left before she had to leave Nevada. Actually, she had a dozen things to do before evening, but somehow she wanted to prolong her time with Lucy’s new owner.

“We’ll settle up first,” he told her, and so she led him into the house.

Yasmin was gone. Mari shook her head; she hadn’t even heard Linnea Zohir, a friend and neighbor, drive in to pick up her daughter. Willa Hawkins, though, was in the kitchen, and she eyed Russ assessingly. Aware that the old woman suspected he might be a boyfriend instead of a horse buyer, Mari straightened her out during the introductions since Willa, who’d moved to Nevada from New York two years ago, tended to be outspoken.

“So you bought Lucy,” Willa said to him.

“’Tis high time someone did. Mari takes in every stray that comes along.”

And can’t afford to. Willa didn’t say the words, but Mari heard them just the same.

“Willa lives between here and the ranch you’ll be looking at,” Mari said to Russ.

“When I ain’t fixing food for the Crowleys,” Willa added. “Mari’s uncle Stan is working on being the worst cook in Nevada, and she’s too dang busy with all the ranch chores. So you’re going to take a gander at the Curwith place, are you? Needs a mite of work, I’d say.”

Later, the settling up done and the horses saddled—Mari had given him a horse named The Captain, while she rode her favorite mare, Tennille—she and Russ rode side by side along the verge of the secondary road in companionable silence for a time. Even though she was acutely aware of him, at the same time she couldn’t remember when she’d felt so comfortable with a man who was a relative stranger. Quite possibly because he, too, was a horse person. Either you were or you weren’t.

“So you live in Michigan,” she said after a time.

“Near Lake Huron,” he confirmed, glancing at her. “Great area, but I can see Nevada has its own charm.”

He meant the mountains and the climate, she told herself firmly. His words had nothing to do with her. Even if they did, she couldn’t afford to be interested. Not just because of where and what she was headed for this evening, but also because she wasn’t ready to trust any man.

As Willa had advised after that fiasco with Danny Boy, “Best you take a recess from men while you sort out what you learned about them from him. Get things straight in your head afore you let another of them make-believe cowboys come snaking around. You gotta be sure you’ve figured out how to separate the poisonous ones from the harmless.” Since she raised rattlers to milk their venom, Willa knew what she was talking about, whether she meant men or snakes.