A Promise to Keep Read online

  But there they’d been. Heads of purple and red barely hanging on in the constant breeze tugging at them.

  He’d brought up water that day. Tamped down the roots again. Added a little more soil and moved some rocks to provide some protection from the wind.

  Since there hadn’t been any rain, he’d done the same thing every day. And now the wildflowers were taking over all on their own. No longer in need of protection from the wind. Riotous, colorful weeds that would go to seed and sprout up again thicker than ever, finding life among the granite, in a cycle that Jed hoped would never end.

  “She came back, Otis.” He squinted into the sun, looking down at the creek-side meadow where most of the cows were contained. Babies were dropping regularly, keeping him even busier than usual. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any orphans this season. It was a first, though Jed was too practical to expect the luck to continue. “That company of hers still wants your land.” He wasn’t going to think about anything else where she was concerned. Definitely not the fact that aside from Tanya, April was the only woman he’d ever wanted in his bed come morning.

  And even though he’d fallen into the habit of talking more to Otis now that he was gone than he ever had when he was alive, there was no way Jed would share the fact that, out of all the women he’d been with since his wife died, being with April was the only time he hadn’t had a single thought about his past at all.

  He pinched his nose to rid himself of the thought.

  “Not sure she’s gonna get a deal, though,” he finally continued aloud. “Snead’s already bragging in town that he’s got a mining company lined up. You always told me you never wanted to see mining on your mountain.”

  Jed had heard the cousin showed up a week after Otis died. He wasn’t inclined to think much of the guy. He’d never tried to see Otis in the five years Jed had known him. But then Jed supposed he wasn’t really in a position to judge another man’s character when his own hadn’t been anything to write home about.

  “Court’s sending someone up here from an auction house over in Braden,” he went on. “Make an assessment of the place. Your stuff’ll go to auction and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. If you’ve got any power on that side where you’re at, it would be helpful if you produced that will you claimed you had. And if it was just a line of bull, then nudge April to the head of the line where Snead’s concerned. Otherwise, God knows what’s going to happen to this place.” A small grave on a high ridge above a few weather-beaten shacks would be easily forgotten.

  The sound of a vehicle carried up to the ridge and Jed reluctantly stood. Otis hadn’t had much in the way of possessions. But Jed still didn’t look forward to a stranger picking and poking through, deciding what sort of value any of it might bring.

  He leaned over and tugged a flower away from the marker and tossed it aside. The breeze caught it and carried it over the side of the ridge. “See you tomorrow, old man.”

  His daily treks up and down the ridge had worn down the long grass even more, making the narrow path easily noticeable from the cabin. When he reached Rufus where he’d left him, ground-tied halfway up, he could see a white sedan parked down at the roadblock. He muttered a curse as he grabbed the reins and swung up in the saddle. He clucked softly and the horse agreeably plodded the rest of the way down.

  He was pulling off the saddle when he heard the footsteps on the rocky road. He finished with the horse and headed over to the cabin to find the visitor already poking around inside.

  Where was Samson when he needed him? Jed deliberately let the wind slam the door shut just to watch the guy jump.

  The skinny man quickly set down Otis’s vintage radio. “I didn’t realize someone was here.”

  The guy had a ferret face. No chin. Thin lips mostly hidden by a mustache straight out of the ’70s, and a green suit to match. “I didn’t realize the auction house sent people who don’t know how to knock.”

  “Auction house.” The guy looked like he’d been born with a sneer on his face. “Nothing here worth anything. Always heard Otis was a cheap bastard.”

  “Let me guess.” Jed’s voice went flat. “You’re Snead. Hate to tell you, pal, but you haven’t inherited this place yet.”

  “Matter of time.” Snead headed toward the hallway but Jed stepped in his way.

  “Until then, you’re trespassing.”

  Snead was nearly as tall as Jed, but about fifty pounds lighter. His mustache curled. “You’re the help, I suppose.”

  “I’ll take being the help over being a relative who only comes out of the woodwork when there’s a little money to be had.”

  “Little money.” Snead laughed. “You’re as stupid as Otis was if you think that small.”

  Jed grabbed the man’s arm and pushed him toward the door.

  “Hey!” Snead tried shaking him off. “This is assault.”

  “Trespassing,” Jed reminded. He yanked open the door.

  “Oh!” April stood on the other side, her blue eyes wide. Samson was sitting there beside her, looking like some damn lapdog, flapping his tail against the wood deck. “I was just, ah, just going to knock.” She took in Snead and the handful of skinny arm that Jed held.

  Some things were inevitable. Her meeting Otis’s cousin was one of them. “Snead here was just leaving,” Jed said.

  Her quick gaze ran over Otis’s presumed heir. “Mr. Snead. I just left a message for you at the motel. I’m April Reed.” She whipped out a business card so fast that Jed nearly missed it. “Stanton Development.”

  “Save the business meeting for another time,” he advised, and pushed Snead past her. “Preferably when he’s not trespassing.” He frog-marched the intruder down the steps, ignoring the man’s cursing and pitiful attempts to wrestle free.

  Samson finally seemed to remember he didn’t like strangers and circled around them, teeth baring as he growled around Snead’s legs.

  Snead kicked out at the dog and missed. “Keep that dog away from me!”

  “That’s what happens when you trespass. And try to kick him again and see what I do.”

  “First thing I’m going to do is fire your ass,” Snead threatened. “Then we’ll see who’s trespassing.”

  Jed didn’t release the man until he was within spitting distance of the boulders on the road. “Don’t come back until then,” he suggested. “Otherwise, the next time I’ll give you the Otis treatment and fill you up with birdshot.”

  Snead had the good sense, at least, not to press his luck. He scurried around the wood barriers, further cementing the whole ferret similarity.

  Between April’s red car and Otis’s old pickup, Snead would have a helluva time maneuvering his car to point down the road.

  Jed wasn’t sure he cared if the guy went off the edge in the process or not.

  He left him to it and whistled to the dog. Samson wagged his tail and shot off ahead of him, back up to the cabin.

  When he got there, April was sitting on one of the deck steps the same way she’d done the first time she’d come to see Otis. Only this time her long legs weren’t encased in denim and sexy boots. They were bare beneath the hem of the flowered dress she wore. Long and sleek. Toned.

  She had a little scar on her right knee. Earned in a bicycle tumble when she was twelve. He knew the shape of it. Knew the taste of it.

  The night before, her dress had sported red flowers.

  Today’s version was splashed with yellow.

  And it annoyed the hell out of him that all he could think was how easy it would be to push his hands beneath that loose fabric and explore the beauty beneath.

  Because one night with her hadn’t been nearly enough.

  She’d made it clear she wasn’t thinking along those lines at all, but even if she were, what good would it do?

  She was lovely and ambitious and young and could s
wing the world by the tail if she wanted.

  What did he have to offer?

  Not one damn thing.

  He had less now than he’d had when he’d fallen for Tanya.

  His mood darkened. “Surprised you’re not chasing him down to pitch your offer.” He stepped around April and the dog who’d made himself right at home at the base of her feet. “Or is that the reason you’re up here in the first place? You heard he was coming here?”

  She followed him inside and Jed was surprised that Samson didn’t come in right on her heels since the dog seemed so enamored.

  “No, I didn’t know he was up here.” She sounded impatient.

  “Then what do you want?”

  She seemed to deliberately relax. Her eyes half closed for a moment. He heard her breathing. Saw her shoulders wriggle slightly. Saw the edge of lace peek out briefly where the scooped neckline of her dress rested against her breasts.

  Then she spread her palms. “I heard about the auction company,” she finally said, sounding carefully calm. “You mentioned it at dinner last night. My grandmother told me about it this morning.”

  “So?”

  Her hands lowered. Smoothed down the sides of her dress. “So I...I thought you might want some help.”

  “With what? Watching a stranger decide if this—” he lifted an ashtray that could have been an antique or a dime store castoff for all he knew “—is worth being auctioned off or if it should hit the trash pile? Yeah, that’s a task sure to wear out anyone.”

  She looked pained. “God forbid if I suggested that you might need a friend. Moral support.”

  He dropped the ashtray back onto the dusty table. “Nobody came for moral support when my wife died.” He blamed his admission on her blue eyes. Because looking into them was like looking off the side of Rambling Mountain into clear, perfect sky.

  He’d gotten over the desire to step off that side a long time ago.

  Falling into that abyss of blue looking back at him felt nearly as dangerous.

  He was familiar enough with the art of a one-night stand. He’d had enough of them since Tanya. But April Reed, for all her blitheness about sleeping with him, didn’t strike him as the type.

  “How did she die?”

  His jaw felt tight. “Why?”

  “You keep bringing her up. Usually a mark of someone who needs to talk about something.”

  “I don’t need to talk about her. It’s just this—” he gestured sharply “—this time of year. Otis. All of it.”

  Feeling hemmed in, he went out onto the porch.

  April followed. “Maybe you do need to talk,” she suggested quietly. “Bottling things up only makes it worse.”

  “You’re an expert on it, are you?”

  Her vibrant hair blew across her face in a sudden gust that also tugged dangerously at the hem of her lightweight dress. “Don’t have to be an expert to understand a basic principle.” When she finished gathering her hair in one hand, he could see her eyes had darkened. “It’s not good to bottle up any kind of emotion.”

  “What’re you bottling?”

  Her gaze shifted. “Besides frustration with Otis and his will or nonwill?” She shrugged and let go of her hair to hold her dress down around her thighs instead.

  He clenched his teeth and looked away, only to spot another newcomer heading up the road. This one was a woman with gray sausage curls, toting a satchel in one hand and pulling a rolling case behind her on the uneven ground.

  “Perfect,” he muttered, and whistled for Samson. The dog veered, chasing back behind the house.

  The woman had spotted him and was waving the bag. “Mr. Dalloway?”

  He heaved a sigh and lifted his hand.

  “Oh goodness.” She was wheezing a little as she drew nearer to the house. “Didn’t think I was ever going to make it up here. I’m Eleanor with—” she paused to yank her rolling case over a bump “—with Braden Auction House. I’m sorry I’m running late for our appointment.” She yanked at her case again. “Another accident on that cursed highway from Braden.”

  As much as he wasn’t looking forward to this, he still went down to help her with her load.

  “Oh, thank you.” She gratefully passed over the handle for the rolling case. “That highway is nearly as bad as the road you’ve got coming up here.” She clucked her tongue. “Felt my life passing on a few of those turns, I don’t mind telling you.”

  He didn’t bother trying to roll the case over the rocky path. He just picked it up and carried it under one arm while he took Eleanor’s elbow with his other hand. “Watch the steps,” he warned. “Have a few bad boards.”

  “Thank you, dear.” She patted his hand with hers. “So nice to meet a gentleman.”

  He nearly choked and glanced down the mountain toward the meadow. He’d give his right arm to be down checking the mamas rather than up here dealing with the auction house. He’d already been down to the meadow once that morning just after dawn, checking the pregnant cows. It was a trip he was able to make more than once a day, now that he didn’t have to stick so close to the cabin for Otis’s sake.

  Otis was gone. But his calf crop was better than it had ever been. Only Otis would have appreciated the irony of that.

  Jed automatically guided Eleanor past the deck board that was splintered all the way through.

  “Oh.” Eleanor had obviously spotted April standing near the door of the cabin. “You must be Mrs. Dalloway. I’m—”

  April’s eyes were wide as they caught his and a blush bloomed on her cheeks. “No, I’m...I’m just a friend.”

  “Ah, well.” Eleanor straightened her shoulders and inhaled deeply. “Friends are a welcome thing, too, at times like these.” She thrust out her hand. “Eleanor with Braden Auction House.”

  “April Reed.”

  “Any relation to Morton Reed?”

  April shook her head. “Um, no. Sorry.”

  “Well, don’t be,” Eleanor assured. “Pharmacist over in Braden. Died last year. Donated his estate to an ostrich farm out west somewhere even though he had an ex-wife, two grown children and seven grandchildren.” She shook her head, clearly thinking the matter unfathomable as she stepped past April through the door.

  Jed followed her, setting the case on the brick hearth surrounding the cold woodstove. He was achingly aware of April coming inside, too.

  “Thank you, dear.” Eleanor opened the bag she’d been carrying and began pulling out ragged-looking catalogs and pads. “I assume you’ve been in communication with the administrator assigned to Mr. Lambert’s estate?”

  Jed nodded, impatient to just get on with it. “Guy named Pastore. Told me to keep running things and submit all the ranch records to him until he notifies me otherwise. I sent the ledgers to him already. Otis never trusted computers. Had me recording everything by hand.” Now Jed had to send weekly reports to the guy, which necessitated a trip to the post office in town since the mail carriers wouldn’t come up the mountain.

  “Yes. Mr. Pastore informs me you’ve been living here on the property, as well.” She glanced up, obviously waiting for confirmation.

  He nodded. “I use the bunkhouse out back.” He slid a look toward April but she was busy adjusting the old radio on the mantel.

  “Sure, sure.” Eleanor began pulling items out of the rolling case, including a laptop computer that she set out and fired up. “What I have found to be easiest is to walk through the property with you and you can identify anything that isn’t part of the estate. After that, I’ll just get down to things.

  “If you’re comfortable leaving me to my work, then feel free to go about doing whatever you need to be doing. If you prefer staying, that’s quite all right, too.” Her comfortable smile took in both Jed and April. “I can do my part either way. Right now, I’m just getting an inventory prepared for the c
ourt. If we get to the point of actually going to auction, I’ll make a note of items that are likely to be worth the effort.”

  “If you do have an auction, how does that work?”

  Eleanor looked at April, who’d asked the question, but in Jed’s estimation now looked as though she regretted it, considering the way her lips were pressed together and color rode her cheekbones.

  “When it’s possible, we tend to have auctions right on the property, but considering the difficulty getting up here and everything, whatever ends up going to auction would need to be transported down the mountain. Either to a place here in town or to the auction house in Braden.” Eleanor’s eyes shifted back to Jed. “But until the court weighs in, we’re merely gathering information. Any other questions so far?”

  Jed shook his head.

  “All right then.” Her look was kind. “Tasks like this are never easy. My method is to just jump right in. If you need to stop at any time—”

  “I’m fine,” he cut her off. “And the only stuff that wouldn’t be included is in the bunkhouse out back. Maybe a couple things in the kitchen.”

  “Well, then. That makes it simple.”

  “You want to start here or—” He broke off because she was nodding those tight curls.

  “That’ll be fine. Are there bedrooms?”

  “Just one.” He gestured toward the short hallway. “Everything in this place was Otis’s.” There was nothing about the woman that set off alarms the way Snead had. “Give a yell if you need help with anything.”

  Eleanor gathered up her computer and a notepad and headed off only to return moments later with a stack of library books in her hands. “Judging by the cards inside, these are a tad bit overdue.”

  Jed grimaced. He hadn’t thought about the books in several weeks. Not the ones he’d gotten for Otis—who’d had a liking for mysteries old or new—or the histories that were sitting in his own bunkhouse. He took the stack from her. “Thanks. I’ll take care of them.”

  She smiled and disappeared back down the hall again.

  April’s gaze skittered away from his. Her hands fluttered toward the books he held. “I can drop them off at the library if you want. I’ll need to go into Weaver later anyway.”