Page 8 of A Family Kind of Wedding (Forever Family 3)

“Thanks anyway. Too healthy for me. I think I’ll pass.” He grabbed a handful of peanuts and tossed them one by one into the air, catching them in his mouth—a trick he’d perfected before Katie had even entered grade school.

“Thanks for helping out,” she said over her shoulder.

“Any time.” He was out the door, and it slapped shut behind him. Katie rinsed her hands and dried them quickly. Since Josh was at soccer practice, there was just enough time for her to do some research for a story she was investigating—the biggest news story in Bittersweet in years. She found her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder as she breezed out the back door. Someone had to solve the mystery surrounding Isaac Wells’s disappearance, and she was determined to get the ball rolling. One way or another, her byline was going to be on the story when it broke.

* * *

Astride a tired, sorrel mare, Luke squinted against an ever-lowering sun. His bones ached from over six hours in the saddle, and sweat had collected on his back. Dust covered his hands and face, and all he wanted was a cool shower and a cold bottle of beer. As the horse eased down a steep cattle trail, Luke eyed the rough terrain of rocky cliffs, narrow ridges and scraggly stands of oak and madrona. The place wasn’t exactly Eden. Not by a long shot.

He’d spent the afternoon following deer and cattle trails that fanned across the hilly, sun-dried terrain. Thickets of scrawny trees offered some shade, but for the most part the earth was covered with brittle, bleached grass, rocks and a sprinkling of weeds. There wasn’t more than five acres of level land, and not much more of rolling hills. Most of the spread was mountain-goat country, with craggy hillsides, narrow ravines and a slash of a creek that zigzagged its way through the canyon floor.

But it was perfect for trail rides and the small cattle drives he planned to organize as part of the working dude ranch he envisioned. Better yet, the eastern flank of the spread abutted a huge parcel of national forest service land that was open for the type of backpacking, hunting or camping he was going to offer to his clients.

He frowned and wondered if, for the first time in his thirty-six years, he would finally find some peace of mind. “Not a prayer,” he said to the mare, a game little quarter horse who, he’d been told by Max Renfro, the onetime foreman of the place, was named Lizzy.

Especially not until he found Ralph’s grandson or granddaughter. If there was one. Just because Dave had mentioned ten years after the fact that he thought he might have fathered a kid didn’t necessarily mean it was true. Luke could be chasing after the gossamer fabric of an old man’s dreams—nothing more.

He clucked to the horse and nudged her sides. They started down the south

slope.

A glint of metal flashed in the distance.

“Whoa.”

From his vantage spot on the hill, he had a full view of the Isaac Wells place. It had been unoccupied since the old guy had disappeared, but it had attracted its share of curiosity seekers despite the lengths of yellow police tape that had been strung across the main gate. According to Max Renfro, the sheriff’s department was always having to run someone off the place.

Sure enough, there was a car in the drive—a convertible, he realized—and Luke felt an uneasy sensation stir in his gut. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a pair of binoculars.

Lifting the glasses to his eyes, he spied Katie Kinkaid, as big as life, climbing over the fence and ignoring not only the police tape but the No Trespassing sign posted on the gate.

Luke’s jaw grew hard as he watched her shade her eyes and peer into the windows of the dilapidated old house. Luke had never met Isaac Wells, but his mysterious disappearance a while back was well known. So what was Katie Kinkaid doing, nosing around the neglected spread?

“She’s a snoopy thing,” he remarked to the horse, then remembered that she was a reporter of some kind or other. She leaned over to look through one window as if she were trying to see beneath a half-lowered shade, and Luke’s gaze settled on her rear end, round and firm beneath her shorts. His mouth turned to sand, and he suddenly felt like a schoolboy for staring at her. Who cared if she was wandering around the abandoned farm? It wasn’t any of his business.

But the rumors he’d been hearing in the taverns and coffee shops—talk of possible kidnapping, burglary and murder—cut through his mind. What if Isaac Wells had been the victim of foul play? What if he’d been killed, and the murderer was still on the loose?

It’s not your problem, he told himself and decided he was only borrowing trouble. If there was a culprit involved in the Isaac Wells mystery, he was long gone. There probably wasn’t much danger anyway. The whole Isaac Wells mess was probably blown out of proportion, grist for the slow-turning gossip mill in this part of the country. He took one final look at the fiery redhead. She was standing now, one hip thrown out the way it had been earlier, and as she turned toward him, he noticed the now familiar pucker of her full lips, the arched eyebrows pulled together in concentration.

He swallowed hard as his gaze skated down the column of her throat to the gap between the lapels of her blouse, to the hint of cleavage he’d seen earlier. He gritted his teeth and looked away in disgust. He wasn’t used to the earthy pull of this woman, the desire that singed his mind every time he looked at her. “Come on,” he ground out, clucking to the horse and urging her back down the steep grade.

He couldn’t worry about Ms. Kinkaid or anyone else, for that matter. He’d learned long ago that he could only take care of himself.

At that particular thought, he scowled. Reaching flatter ground, he pressed his knees into Lizzy’s sweaty sides. Though she was tired, the mare responded, her strides stretching as they reached the lower hills where the grade was much gentler and the stables were in sight. Her ears pricked forward, and she let out a little nicker at the small herd that had gathered by the weathered fence.

“Yeah, and they miss you, too, Lizzy,” Luke said, already feeling at home on this dusty scrap of land. All of the outbuildings needed new roofs, the siding of each was crying out for gallons of paint, and there were few windows that didn’t require replacement of at least one new pane.

But he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to find out if Ralph’s son had fathered a child around here. It shouldn’t be too hard. He’d already started checking birth notices for ten and eleven years back. Tomorrow he’d drive to the county courthouse to check records there, and, of course, there was always local gossip—as good a place to start as any.

He cooled Lizzy down and stripped her of bridle and saddle, then set her free in the closest field. With an eager nicker, she joined the small herd gathered near a solitary pine tree. A few half-grown foals frolicked around their more sedate dams while a roan gelding rolled on the ground. His legs pawed the air madly, and he grunted in pleasure as brown clouds of dust enveloped his body. Luke smiled. All in all, the horses looked healthy and alert. Good stock. Ten head if you counted the two fillies and one colt.

The cattle were another story. They roamed the hillsides freely and were rangy and lean—not exactly prime beef. But they would do for what he had in mind.

His plan was to start renovations on the main house as soon as the building permits were approved by the county, work through the winter, then start advertising in January. In order to be in full operation this coming spring, he’d have to hire at least basic help—a cook and housekeeper, along with a few ranch hands and a part-time guide or two. Hopefully he’d have his first group of clients in by mid-May. He figured he’d run the first two years in the red, but after that, he hoped to turn a profit.

He had to. All his hopes and dreams were tied up in this old place, he thought with a humorless smile.

Years ago, he’d had other visions for his life. He’d thought he’d settle down and raise a family, save enough to buy his own place and live out the American Dream. But things hadn’t worked out the way he’d thought they would. His stomach clenched when he thought of his marriage. Hell, what a mess. Seven years of bad luck. Then the divorce. As bad as the marriage had been, the divorce had been even worse.

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