Free Reclaiming Nick by Susan May Warren

her around the property tomorrow.” He still wasn’t sure how he felt about her being here—at the very least he hoped to instill in her some good old-fashioned respect for the land. At best, he’d convince her that now was the time for her to tuck tail and run. But he didn’t mention that to Stef.
    “I’m hoping she’ll cook for roundup this Saturday. Let her earn her spurs.”
    “You’re really hoping this will work, aren’t you?” Nick couldn’t look at his sister, feeling suddenly like a traitor.
    “I’m really hoping we don’t lose this ranch.”
    “When you open a place to the public, you’re asking for trouble.”
    “She’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. No one is going to cause any trouble.”
    Nick sighed and ran his hands over the smooth leather chair. “Stefanie, do you have any idea why Dad would leave half our land to St. John? What did Cole do for him?”
    Stefanie looked away, into the fire. “I don’t know. But Cole and Maggy have helped us a lot over the past ten years. Please, please leave it alone.”
    “Maggy?” Nick felt a slow squeeze of dread inside. “Did she hire on?”
    Stefanie glanced at him. “No, she . . . oh, boy.” She blew out a breath. “I thought you knew. I thought I told you. . . .”
    Told me what? He didn’t like the look on her face. Nick swallowed. Shook his head. “Nope.”
    Stefanie didn’t meet his eyes. “Nick . . . Maggy is Cole’s wife.”

    A little leg cast wouldn’t keep Cole from driving his Ford. He waited until Maggy and CJ left to check the heifers this morning, then pried himself out of bed, wrestled on his sweatpants and an old flannel shirt, wedged his hat over his unruly hair, brushed his teeth, left the week-old growth of beard, and shoved his free foot into his boot.
    Just that activity caused him to nearly collapse in the entryway, breathing hard. A sheen of perspiration blanketed his brow. He tugged on his jacket. Please, Saul, be home. He hadn’t called theattorney, but with his office attached to his house, Saul Lovell kept casual round-the-clock hours.
    Besides, if Maggy caught him using the phone, she would think he was canceling the doctor’s appointment she’d made for him in Sheridan. The woman clearly didn’t trust him, the way she watched his every move, as if he were a heifer about to drop a calf.
    Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d foiled her plans. Like the ones to grow old together, passing the ranch on to a passel of kids. By marrying him, she’d sacrificed so much.
    Not anymore. He grabbed his crutches, wincing as pain shot through him. The door squeaked as he opened it, but he closed it behind him quietly and hobbled out to the truck. Glancing at the barn, he opened the door, tossed the crutches in the cab, then levered himself onto the bench seat. The truck smelled of dust, the residue of working in the field all day. He fired up the engine and threw the truck into reverse as Maggy came out of the barn. She stood there, hands on her hips, eyes blazing. He drove away without acknowledging her.
    Good thing they had only one vehicle. But with his luck, she’d probably saddle her horse and follow him into town.
    Or Pecos. Nick’s roping horse was faster. Sturdier. Better than Cole’s tired stock horses. Cole shook his head. Another reminder of the harsh truth. And Maggy’s sacrifices.
    He drove toward town, past the Silver Buckle and the Big K, cutting south at the Breckenridge place. Saul Lovell owned a section to the east, on which he’d run a fancy French breed of cattle called Salers. Although fewer head, their high birth rates and fatty, beefy bodies brought in more money per pound. Over the years, it had kept Saul’s ranch in the black. But with Saul’s sons now inSheridan and Denver pursuing their own lives, Saul had sold off most of his herd. At least he had his attorney shingle to hang on to. Not for the first time, Cole wished he’d gone to college and earned a degree to go