“I’d like to make a deal with you,” Scott said.

“How would you feel about watching Shelley for me during the weekdays, and in return I’ll work for you on the weekends and some evenings?”

As he expected, Melanie’s mouth dropped open and she stared as if he’d gone daft. He was hoping she’d look past his position as the forest ranger and see that they could help each other out.

“Why would you ask me to do this? I’m basically a stranger.”

“Karen told me you’re a good, hardworking woman. I already feel as if I’ve known you for years.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, but it was true. He felt more comfortable around Mel McAllister than around any woman he’d ever met.

“Well, I could sure use your help around this place.”

“So it’s a deal?”

“Okay.” She gave him a smile so bright he had to blink. It lit up her face and softened her eyes and he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

LEIGH BALE

is a multiple award-winning author of inspirational romance, her awards including the prestigious Golden Heart. She holds a B.A. in history with distinction and is a member of Phi Kappa Phi Honor Society. A member of Romance Writers of America, Leigh also belongs to the American Christian Fiction Writers and various chapters of RWA, including the Faith, Hope and Love chapter and the Golden Network. She is the mother of two wonderful adult children and lives in Nevada with her professor husband of twenty-nine years. When she isn’t writing, Leigh loves playing with her beautiful granddaughter, serving in her church congregation and researching another book. Visit her website at www.LeighBale.com.

The Forest Ranger’s Promise
Leigh Bale

www.millsandboon.co.uk

But I say unto you, love your enemies,

bless them that curse you, do good to them

that hate you, and pray for them which

despitefully use you and persecute you.

—Matthew 5:44

This book is dedicated to Dan Baird,

a genuine forest ranger and my hero.

Every child deserves a father like mine.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Thirty more minutes in the saddle and he could rest. Scott Ennison tightened his left hand around the reins, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The damp ground muffled the rhythmic beat of his horse’s hooves. He breathed deep of the crisp July air, catching the sweet scent of sage and rain. You couldn’t get this stunning beauty living in a city.

He looked up at the blue Wyoming sky and the jagged peaks of the Snyder Mountains. Farther out, a carpet of green pine led right down to the mouth of Game Creek where his truck awaited him. He’d be there soon and then on his way home. Shelley waited for him back in town, not at all happy that her daddy had left her with his office manager in a strange place. If only her mother were here. The divorce hadn’t been easy on Shelley, not with his career. Living in small, remote towns. Being a single father raising a ten-year-old daughter on his own. Working all the time. Both of them lonely for their own separate reasons. No wonder Shelley was angry and missed her mom. She deserved so much more.

He redirected his thoughts, inspecting the hillside to check for erosion. After being in these mountains three days, he’d finished looking over the area. Now he had to decide how to proceed with a watershed study.

The rain that day would have chilled him to the bone if not for the heavy, down-filled coat he wore over his ranger uniform. He shifted his body and fanned his wet slicker over his arms. Even in July, the high mountains could be cold, especially after a storm.

As he pushed the forest ranger’s hat back on his head, he scanned the thin trail ahead. It twined past several large, rotted tree trunks. A mass of pine needles, dried leaves and rotted bark lay in a pile next to the opening of one hollowed-out trunk. A large animal must have turned the tree over, grubbing for insects. He rode on, giving it no more thought.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught a flurry of movement and turned in the saddle. Two bear cubs dashed across the carpet of damp leaves and scurried up a tall aspen. Scott’s gelding jerked its head and jittered to one side.

A furious roar sounded from behind. Scott swiveled his head just as his horse bolted. The reins jerked from his fingers and he grabbed for something—anything—to keep from losing his seat. His fingers grasped empty air. He fell backward over the horse’s rump. The ground slammed up to meet him. He landed on his back, the air whooshing from his body. Pain exploded at the back of his head. He lay there for several moments, dazed and hurting, gasping for breath.

Panic pumped through his body and he came to his feet, staggered and fell again. Pain choked off his breath and his lungs ached. As if in slow motion, he watched his horse race down the hill like a shot from a pistol. No more than fifty feet away, a grizzly bear stood on her hind legs. Using the aspens as a gauge, Scott figured she must be at least seven feet tall and weigh five hundred pounds.

Death stared him in the eye and all he could think about was Shelley. If he didn’t make it home, she’d be all alone. No one to love and care for her. No one to keep her safe.

The bear’s angry roar echoed off the surrounding mountains. Afternoon sunlight glimmered off her coarse, silver coat. White tips gave her fur a grizzled appearance. Scott had committed the unpardonable sin of coming between a mother and her cubs.

White-hot terror coursed through his veins. A rush of adrenaline forced him to his feet, but his vision swam like fog. He had to move. Had to run! But his legs wobbled and wouldn’t obey his commands.

A shot rang out. Scott turned his head, trying to ignore the bolts of lightning tearing through his body with each movement. A woman sat atop her horse, the butt of a rifle braced against her right shoulder. He blinked, thinking he imagined her.

She cocked the rifle again and fired into the air. The bear screamed in fury. Scott flinched, his head pounding. He took a careful step in the woman’s direction, his arms wide as he prepared to run. His head kept spinning and he stumbled, fighting to keep his balance.

The bear growled, her long, sharp teeth and claws extended. Waves of alarm washed over Scott. Another shot rang out. He stared in morbid curiosity as the sow lowered to all fours and dashed across the trail to her cubs. Her speed and agility surprised him. She got her cubs down from the tree, then swatted at them, herding them up the hill away from Scott and the loud boom of the rifle. That suited him just fine. Being eaten by a bear wasn’t on his agenda today.

The cubs squawked in protest, but the sow growled and batted them, forcing them to continue up the mountain. Thankfully, her first priority was the safety of her cubs.

Scott faced the woman, shaking his head, trying to clear his blurry vision.

No, two horses and riders. A woman and girl. Where had they come from?

Scott’s knees buckled and he lay flat on his back, gazing up at the sky. A biting chill blanketed his body. He couldn’t fight it anymore. Something was wrong with him. He’d hit his head and couldn’t focus.

Closing his eyes, he let the darkness sweep him away.

“I think he’s dead, Mom.”

Melanie McAllister kicked her mare. The animal zipped forward across the sage-covered field to join her daughter at the slope of the mountain. Lucky for the man, she and Anne had been out looking for stray sheep when they saw the grizzly bear. Reticent to kill a mother with cubs, Melanie had fired into the air, praying the bear didn’t charge the man. She had never destroyed anything more than a bug and she didn’t want to shoot a full-grown grizzly bear. Since the animal was an endangered species, she could just imagine having to explain herself to a ranger.

“We’ll check him, Anne. You stay close in case that bear returns, okay?”

“Yes, Mom.”

The man’s horse disappeared down the mountain. Melanie caught a glimpse of the roan gelding and didn’t recognize the brand on the animal’s hindquarters. The rain that morning had softened the ground, so it’d be easy to track the horse, if they had time. Right now, she had to think about the man and Anne’s safety.

Anne had already hopped off her horse and knelt on the ground beside him.

“Wait, Anne! I told you to stay behind me.” Melanie slid from the saddle before her horse came to a halt.

The man lay upon the damp grass, his long legs sheathed in green denim. His chest moved slightly, indicating life. Thank goodness.

His felt hat lay several feet away…a ranger’s hat with a wide, flat brim. Melanie tensed, unable to deny her natural aversion to the Forest Service. Ranchers didn’t like rangers. They just didn’t, for lots of reasons. Mainly because the past few rangers stationed in Snyderville had rarely kept their promises and tended to tell the ranchers where and when to graze their livestock. Especially the last ranger, who’d practically been run out of town by an angry mob.

Melanie didn’t recognize this man. He must be new. The rain slicker over his coat kept him dry. With his eyes closed, he looked harmless enough. A lock of sand-colored hair covered his high forehead. Thick eyelashes lay closed against sun-bronzed cheeks. Stubble covered his lean jaw and blunt chin. A handsome face in a stubborn, rugged sort of way. Definitely not a man who sat in an office all day. But it wouldn’t matter if he was the best-looking man on earth. Not as long as he wore a green forest ranger’s patch on the left shoulder of his shirt. This man meant trouble for Melanie—plain and simple.

“Is he dead?” Anne poked his arm with one finger, winning a soft groan from the fallen man.

“He’s hurt.” Melanie knelt beside her daughter and searched him for injuries. When she touched the back of his head, her fingers came away bloody. “He must have hit his head when he fell from his horse. Help me roll him over.”

Anne grunted as she pushed against the man’s shoulder. A strand of auburn hair came free from her long ponytail. “He’s big and heavy.”

They got the stranger over on his side, so Melanie had better access to the gash in the back of his head. Without being asked, Anne ran to her horse and retrieved two bottles of water from her saddlebags. When she returned, Melanie popped the lid from one bottle, then removed the red-checkered kerchief she wore tied around her neck. She soaked it before cleaning the man’s wound.

“Is he gonna die?” Anne asked. Her eyes filled with sadness. At the age of eleven, she’d already lost her father, and Melanie hated that her child had to grow up too soon.

“I don’t think so, but he needs a doctor.” She wouldn’t lie to her daughter, even to protect her tender feelings. As sheep ranchers, they lived a hard life, surrounded by the death of some of their livestock every day, and Anne deserved the truth.

“Look, Mom. There’s grizzly track all over this place. You think those bears will come back?” Anne pointed at a perfect indentation of a large animal’s paw, the claws over three inches long.

Melanie sucked in a breath. “I hope they don’t until we’re gone.”

Alarms sounded inside her head and she glanced at her .270-caliber rifle before scanning the trees for movement. In all the years she’d been grazing sheep on this mountain, she’d only seen grizzlies from a distance. She’d seen the damage they did to her sheep close up. As soon as they got down off this mountain, she’d report the sighting to the Wyoming Game and Fish Department. They’d send in professional trappers to catch and release the bears to a higher elevation.

Night was coming on, black and bitter. How was she going to get the stranger back to town? She knew from past experience that her cell phone wouldn’t work here on the mountain, but she tried anyway. Flipping it open, she shook her head, wishing she could afford to invest in a satellite phone.

No reception. She and Anne were on their own.

She wouldn’t take a chance with her daughter. She’d lost Aaron eleven months earlier, and she couldn’t lose her little girl, too.

The man moved, lifting a hand to his face. “What happened?”

He rolled to his back, looking up at them, blinking his clear blue eyes in a daze. He tried to rise and she pressed her hand to his shoulder. “Just rest a moment and get your bearings.”

“My horse—?”

“We’ll find him for you,” Anne said.

The man closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “My head feels like it’s been split in two.”

Melanie didn’t laugh. Aaron had died from a similar accident, leaving her and Anne to fend for themselves with two bands of sheep. If only someone had been there to help Aaron, he might be alive now. That thought alone made her feel responsible for this man. He might have a wife and kids of his own and she was determined to do everything in her power to make sure that their father returned to them. “You hit a rock. You may have a concussion.”

The man braced his big hands on the ground and tried to sit up. Melanie and Anne both reached to help him.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. “My vision’s blurry.”

Melanie eyed him critically. “You sure you feel like sitting up?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes again, then opened them. “There, that’s better.”

“You got a name?” she asked.

He swallowed, as if he felt nauseated. “Ennison. Scott Ennison.”

Melanie froze. Her heart felt as though it dropped to her feet. She’d never met this man, but she’d heard plenty about him from the other ranchers in the area. Scott Ennison, the new forest ranger over the Snyder District. The bane of every rancher’s existence.

He wasn’t what she expected. Ranchers had called the last ranger Overbellie because he was bald and fat and rarely went out on the range to see what difficulties the ranchers might be dealing with. But this man looked lean and strong, with a full head of hair and startling blue eyes.

“You’re Ennison?” A look of repugnance crinkled Anne’s freckled nose.

“Yeah, who are you?”

The girl stood and backed away, her hands resting on her hips. Dressed in denim and scruffy work boots, she looked every inch like her father. “I’m Anne Marie McAllister and you killed my dad.”

Ennison blinked. “What?”

“Anne, don’t say that. Your father’s death was an accident. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Melanie said the words mechanically, trying to believe them herself. It’d been Aaron’s foul temper and drinking that had caused his death, not the forest ranger.

The girl’s eyes narrowed with loathing. “You’re good for nothing but causing us ranchers trouble.”

“Anne!”

“Well, it’s true.” The girl whirled around and ran to her horse, burying her cheek against the warm side of the animal’s shoulder.

Melanie stared after Anne, her heart aching. She understood her daughter’s animosity, but didn’t like Anne’s disrespect and hateful words. Anne was too young to hate anyone. How she wished Aaron hadn’t instilled a revulsion for rangers in their daughter.

Ennison’s brow crinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Melanie wasn’t about to explain. Not to this stranger. When she spoke, her voice sounded strained. “Do you think you can stand so we can get you on a horse? I think you need a doctor.”

“Yeah, if you can just help me get down to the mouth of Game Creek, I’ve got a truck and horse trailer there.”

“Okay.” She preferred returning to her sheep camp. Game Creek was much closer, but if she didn’t return, her herder might worry. As she helped Ennison stand, she noticed that Anne silently refused to lend a hand. Something inside Melanie hardened. She also felt angry, yet it wasn’t fair to blame this man for Aaron’s death. Between the last ranger’s dictatorial ways and Aaron’s drunken rages, her family had suffered greatly.

Gossips in Snyderville said the previous ranger had lost control over the grazing permittees in the area. Even his kids were getting beaten up at school. The Forest Service claimed that Scott Ennison was an experienced range man from another district where he’d handled serious grazing problems. Ennison also had a reputation for being hard-nosed, but fair.

Melanie would reserve judgment for now.

Since cattle and sheep men had a natural aversion to forest rangers, Melanie half wished she hadn’t been the one to discover him. What would the other ranchers say when they found out she’d helped him? How would she ever live it down?

The story of the Good Samaritan filled her mind, reminding her that she should love her enemy and turn the other cheek. But no matter how hard she tried, she still didn’t want to help this man.

Ennison walked steady, but once he sat in the saddle, he groaned and hung limp over the neck of Melanie’s horse. Prickles of alarm dotted Melanie’s flesh. What if he died? She didn’t want any accusations flung her way.

“You okay?” She stood beside her horse, looking up at the man’s pale face.

He straightened, his tall frame towering over her as he gave a weak smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m sure glad you showed up when you did. I think that mother grizzly had me on the menu for supper.”

She almost chuckled, but couldn’t bring herself to feel that comfortable around him. “I think it’s time we left this place.”

“I won’t argue with you on that score.”

She climbed up behind Anne on the girl’s horse. Fearing Ennison might fall off his mount, Melanie took the reins, ponying him along beside her as they headed down the trail. They rode slow and steady and she glanced over her shoulder often to make certain Ennison was okay. She kept her rifle close at hand, just in case she saw a bear. Aaron had taught her to shoot. She’d chased off coyotes from her band of sheep by firing into the air. Aaron told her that did little good because they’d just return to steal sheep later on. He wanted her to shoot to kill, but she just couldn’t, unless a person’s life was at stake. Just like that mother grizzly, Melanie would do anything to protect her child.

As darkness covered the mountain, Melanie asked Anne to dig two flashlights out of her saddlebag. Aiming the beams of light at the trail, she silently prayed they didn’t miss the turn leading to Game Creek.

Please, God, keep us safe tonight.

When they reached the camp, Melanie stared through the dark, just making out the Forest Service emblem with a lone pine tree on the side of Ennison’s pale green truck. She breathed a sigh of relief. His horse stood beside the truck, its head up with reins trailing as it nickered gently in greeting.

“You knucklehead. Why didn’t you take me with when you bolted?” Ennison asked the animal.

The horse just stared at them. Again, Melanie appreciated Ennison’s humor and would have laughed if he’d been any other man.

It took thirty minutes to get the three horses loaded and Ennison settled in the front seat. Thankfully, the trailer was big enough to hold all the horses. No way was she about to leave her precious animals on this mountain alone. Not with grizzly bears prowling around. She depended on her horses for her livelihood and couldn’t afford to buy new ones.

She and Anne climbed into the cab of the truck. The small overhead light came on. Ennison watched her quietly, his blue eyes clear and lucid. She didn’t know how she’d ever live it down with the other ranchers if the new ranger died while in her care. Likewise, she doubted they’d let her forget helping him. In this small community, everyone knew everyone else’s secrets.

“You know how to handle yourself with horses. You got those animals loaded in no time,” Ennison commented.

She ignored his praise and stretched out her hand. “I need the key.”

He reached inside his pants pocket and she heard the jingle as he placed some keys on her open palm. Anne sat hunched against Melanie’s side, her lips pinched as she stared straight ahead and refused to let any part of her leg touch the man.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Ennison said.

“It’s Mrs. McAllister.” Melanie inserted the key and started the ignition.

“You don’t have a first name?”

“Yes, I do.” She turned on the headlights and put the truck in gear.

“What is it?” he persisted.

She tossed an irritated glance his way, finding the gleam of his eyes unsettling. “Melanie, but my friends and family call me Mel. You can call me Mrs. McAllister.”

She pressed on the accelerator, going slow. The horses thumped around in back, gaining their balance as the trailer bounced gently over the narrow dirt road.

“Wait a minute. You’re Mel McAllister?” His eyes widened with surprise.

“That’s right.” She tried not to look at him, but found it difficult. Worrying about this man didn’t sit well with her. She’d be a Good Samaritan this time, but that didn’t mean she had to be friends.

“I recognize your name, but I thought you were a man.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Not hardly.”

“I can see that.”

Her cheeks heated up like road flares and she refused to look at him, grateful that the darkness hid her face.

“You’re a grazing permittee,” he said.

Her shoulders stiffened. “Unfortunately.”

“You don’t like grazing on the National Forest?”

“Of course I do. I just don’t like being told when, where and how to graze my sheep.”

She caught his nod of acquiescence. “I can understand your hostility, but believe me when I say I have nothing against grazing the land. It’s here for us all to use.” He sighed. “It’s the overgrazing that I object to. That kills the land and causes erosion. With a bit of structure and management, there are ways to find a happy middle ground.”

“Look, Mr. Ennison, my sheep aren’t going to cause any harm to your precious land. I’m smart enough to figure out that if we overgraze we won’t have enough quality feed for next year.”

“It’s not my land, Melanie. It belongs to everyone. I just want to help preserve it for future generations.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh, you can believe it. For every dollar generated by the use of our renewable natural resources, an income of ten dollars is generated somewhere else down the line.” His voice filled with conviction. “Ranchers, auctioneers, loggers, truckers, the butcher in the grocery store, the contractor who builds our homes and many more—they all make a living because of our national lands.”

She nodded. “I’m glad you understand that concept.”

“Of course I do. We can’t regrow an oil field, but we can regrow trees and raise more cows. Our renewable resources are highly important to our nation’s economy.” He smiled at her. “And, please, call me Scott.”

Strike one. How dare he be so informal with her? She bit her lip to keep from telling him what she really thought. Who did he think he was? She knew very well how important the forest lands were to her own livelihood. “So you’re not a preservationist?”

“I’m guided by the Multiple Use Sustained Yield Act, which tells me to take care of our land for use by the most people for as long as we can. Ranchers are an important part of that effort.”

“Well. I’m glad we got that straightened out. But I’ll have to watch and see if you act on your words.” His ideas made sense and mirrored her own beliefs, but she’d heard other rangers say one thing and do another often enough not to trust what he said.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Just give me time, Mrs. McAllister. I’ll show you I’m a man of my word.”

She hoped so, but she wasn’t certain she liked where this conversation was going. She could easily like this man, but she didn’t want to. “Maybe I should have left you for the grizzlies.”

He laughed, not seeming to be injured in the least by her harsh comment. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor. I think we’ll get along just fine.”

Was he daft? She had no intention of getting along with him. The sooner she got rid of him, the better.

“Don’t think I’m easy pickings just because I’m a woman,” she warned. “I know all the games you rangers play and I’m not falling for it ever again.”

“Again?”

He studied her with those piercing eyes and she realized she’d said too much. The last thing she wanted was a snoopy forest ranger asking her questions.

“No games, Melanie. I grew up on a ranch myself. I know how important the land is to grazing livestock.”

Hmm. Maybe so, but he was still a ranger and would undoubtedly do whatever his bureaucratic bosses told him to do. She’d learned the hard way not to trust a ranger and it wouldn’t happen again.

Chapter Two

It took an hour of slow driving to reach the main road. Melanie didn’t head for Snyderville even to drop off her horses. Fearing Scott might die of some brain trauma, she sped on by the exit to reach the freeway to Evanston.

“Where you going?” he asked as they passed the road sign pointing to Snyderville.

Headlights blared in their eyes and she blinked as a semi passed them on the dark road. “I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“That’s ninety miles away.”

“That’s right,” she said.

“There’s no need for that. I’m fine.”

“You may have a concussion and I won’t be responsible for your death.” She didn’t look at him, wishing she could remain neutral. Wishing she didn’t care. Her husband had always chided her for taking in strays. She never figured that might include an injured forest ranger.

Anne sagged against her in sleep, her bright head drooping to her chest. Melanie almost cringed when Scott reached over and settled the girl in a more comfortable position on the seat. His kindness annoyed Melanie and she didn’t know why. His actions seemed too fatherly and she bit her tongue to keep from asking if he had kids. The less she knew about him the better.

She stared at the empty road, watching the miles go by, trying not to think of the man in the seat next to her. He filled up the truck with his bigger-than-life presence, so different from the previous ranger. This man was just too…likable.

The clock on the dashboard showed eight minutes past midnight when she pulled into the emergency parking lot in Evanston. She took up four parking spaces with the truck and trailer. Without a word, she climbed out and reached back to awaken Anne.

“Come on, honey. You can rest inside.”

The girl stumbled out of the truck, almost knocking Melanie over. Scott startled her when he took Anne’s arm to help. How did he get over here so fast?

“Leave me alone.” The girl jerked away, her jaw hard with belligerence.

Scott drew back in surprise. “Sorry. I just wanted to help.”

Anne didn’t smile and neither did Melanie. Anne had a natural aversion to men. She’d loved her father, but she’d also learned not to trust him. One minute, Aaron was fun and filled with gruff compassion. Then he’d lose himself in a bottle and became a mean drunk. Melanie had tried to shield Anne from her father’s rages, but hadn’t completely succeeded. The worst part about it was that Melanie now felt relieved Aaron wasn’t around to hurt them anymore. She missed him even as she felt joy in his absence. How could a woman feel that way about her own husband? It just wasn’t right and she felt guilty about it.

“Anne, don’t be rude.” Melanie led her daughter toward the lights of the hospital with Scott by their side.

In the brightly lit entranceway, he ran a hand down the back of his neck and Melanie sensed his deep frustration. She felt a nibble of guilt for being so curt with him but didn’t dare let down her guard.

Inside, she sat with Anne on a blue sofa in the waiting room while he stepped up to the front reception counter. Like a mother hen, Melanie kept an eye on him, just in case he needed her. Whether she liked it or not, she was stuck in Evanston with no way home until Scott Ennison got checked out.

She wasn’t certain what she’d do if the doctor decided to keep Scott overnight. Maybe she could drive his truck back to Snyderville without him and contact his office in the morning. His people could come out to her ranch to retrieve his truck and horse.

A nurse handed a clipboard with paperwork to Scott and he quickly filled it out before reaching in his pocket for his wallet and insurance card. An orderly glanced at Melanie. “Would your wife like to come back with you to the examination room?”

Melanie almost choked. “I… I’m not his wife.”

“She’s just a friend.” Scott’s blue eyes rested on her like a leaden weight. His gaze challenged her, as if he waited for her to deny his claim of friendship. The corners of his mouth curved slightly with amusement.

Melanie bit her tongue to keep from saying something rude and completely ruining all the good values she’d tried to instill in her daughter.

“Sorry. My mistake,” the orderly said.

“Would you mind calling Karen Henderson?” Scott asked Melanie. “She’s my office manager. Let her know what happened, but tell her I’m okay. I don’t want to worry her.”

“Sure.” Melanie nodded and reached for her cell phone as Scott followed the orderly down the hall.

Melanie called information to get Karen Henderson’s number, then made the call, keeping it short and sweet. Karen answered in a groggy voice and Melanie felt embarrassed. She had obviously woken Karen up, but there was no way around it. She quickly explained the situation, then hung up.

Sighing with exhaustion, Melanie wrapped an arm around Anne. She snuggled the girl close, breathing in her sweet smell before she leaned her head back.

Melanie would check on the horses in a few minutes. Right now, she felt absolutely worn out, her eyes gritty with fatigue. At least she had a clear conscience. Good Samaritan or not, God expected nothing less.

“You heard the doctor. I’m gonna be fine. I just have a mild concussion and a broken finger.” Scott sat in the passenger seat, leaning his head back to rest while Melanie drove them home to Snyderville. He felt loopy from the pain medication, as if everything moved in slow motion.

Anne sat passed out between them, her small body hanging limp against her seat belt. Thick darkness covered the road, the headlights glinting off damp pavement as Melanie pulled onto the freeway.

Scott would have called his range assistant to come get him, but he figured by the time Jim got to Evanston, they could already be home. Instead, he’d woken up Karen again to let her know he’d be home by five in the morning. Until Scott could find another child care provider, Karen had agreed to take Shelley when he needed to work on the mountain. Something would need to change soon. Shelley was bored to tears, sitting all day in the office with a woman old enough to be her grandmother. No friends to play with. No mother to love her.

No wife to love him.

A sad melancholy settled over him. How he wished he could go back in time and change things. Shelley was the most important thing in his life and she was hurting. He’d have to find a better sitter on his next day off. That would go a long way toward mending Shelley’s broken heart.

He doubted his own heart could ever be fixed.

“The doctor said you need to stay awake for a few more hours. Do you have family at home to watch you, to make sure you’re okay?” Melanie asked.

No, but he didn’t want to tell Melanie that. He could tell that she didn’t want to be near him, but he knew she’d offer to stay with him if he needed her. He could hear the weariness in her voice and wouldn’t ask that from her. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Did you call your wife and tell her what happened?”

Her voice had a low, growly quality he liked. Not a girly, simpering voice like so many other women he knew. Her assumption that he was married amused him. “My daughter will take care of me.”

She flicked a glance of curiosity at him. “Is she old enough to watch you?”

He shrugged. “Probably not.”

“That’s just the point. You could be unconscious and unable to call for help. Who’s at home? Is your wife out of town?”

He liked the note of concern in her voice. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about him. But her reminder that he had no one except his daughter made him feel a tad grouchy and he didn’t understand why. “I’m divorced.”

Now why did he tell her that? It wasn’t her business. Must be the medication loosening his tongue.

“Oh. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He moved his left hand, careful not to jar the broken finger and bulky splint the nurse had put on for him. Melanie’s apology softened him as nothing else could. Over the past few years, it seemed he’d done all the apologizing. Now, he wanted to get on with life and forget his sadness. He’d resigned himself to raising Shelley and being alone. A ranger living in remote towns with few single women had little chance of developing much of a social life.

“It’s okay. I guess you could say I chose my career over the needs of my wife. Not many women like living in podunk towns without a decent grocery store and shopping.”

Once again, his tongue seemed to blurt out words before he could engage his brain. Melanie McAllister was much too easy to talk to.

Allison should be here now with him and Shelley. He’d begged his wife not to leave them. He’d even offered to change the career he dearly loved, although he had no idea what he’d do if he wasn’t a ranger. This life was all he knew.

No amount of pleading had changed Allison’s mind. She’d married a wealthy businessman less than four weeks after the divorce. All her trips to New York to visit her sister finally made sense. She’d been having an affair. When she’d claimed she’d never loved him, Scott wasn’t surprised. Even now, the pain of betrayal hurt so much he thought there must be blood on the floor.

When she’d demanded that he keep Shelley, Scott had been glad, but his heart ached for his little girl. She didn’t understand why Mom didn’t want her anymore. He’d clumsily tried to explain without hurting her feelings, but Shelley was too smart. Kids had an uncanny way of guessing the truth. She knew her mother didn’t want her. Had never really wanted either of them. And that’s what hurt most of all.

“I suppose you’re right,” Melanie conceded. “It can be a challenge living in an isolated town, but we’ve got the most beautiful sunsets you ever saw. And when I’m up on the mountain after a rainstorm, the wind whispers through the trees and everything is so green and smells so fragrant. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Warmth and pride infused her voice. She spoke on a sigh, her soft words sounding poetic. He couldn’t help wondering how different life might have been if his ex-wife had loved the great outdoors the way he did. They’d met and married fresh out of college, before he realized she hated country living. “It’s funny how things change.”

“Yes,” Melanie said. “And it’s funny how they stay the same, too.”

How true. Right now, he wished he could just find some normalcy for himself and Shelley, if only for a while. They’d both had far too much upheaval lately.

“If your daughter’s young, who’s watching her while you’re gone?” Melanie asked.

He explained about Karen. “Shelley’s a great kid, but she’s lonely. She misses her mom and her friends.”

“Don’t worry. There’re several women in town who run summer child care out of their homes to make extra money.”

“Yeah, for everyone except the new forest ranger.” He couldn’t keep the cynicism from his voice.

“I take it you’ve already asked them?”

“Yep, and each one said no.”

“Really?” Disbelief filled her voice.

He snorted. “Don’t look so surprised. One woman was polite, but I saw the anxiousness in her eyes when she found out who I was. The other two women bluntly told me they would never watch the forest ranger’s brat.”

She glanced at him, her eyes round with shock. “They actually said that?”

“Quote, unquote.” And where did that leave him and Shelley? He’d never leave her with people who might treat her badly. His child care predicament bordered on desperate.

“I’m sorry. That’s not very Christian-like.” Melanie’s mouth tensed as she gripped the steering wheel.

“Don’t worry about it. Even you’d rather be anywhere but here helping me.”

Her cheeks flamed with guilt. “Is it that obvious?”

“Like a fist punch to the nose.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” she admitted.

“I know. It’s just that Shelley misses her mom and still doesn’t understand why she has to live with me.” His voice softened. “She’s a lot like her mother. Prefers dresses to tromping around the mountains on a horse. But I love her so much. She’s all I have left.”

He heaved a deep sigh, then clamped his mouth closed. He must remember that this woman was a rancher and didn’t trust him. Yet.

“I’m sorry for your trouble.”

“Thanks. I just want to do a good job here,” he said. “My dad died when I was a senior in high school and Mom couldn’t keep the ranch going even with my help. We sold off our land and that’s when I decided to get a college education, so I could become a forest ranger and help other ranchers. I’m really not an ogre.”

She blinked, seeming to think this over.

“Can you recommend a child care provider until school starts up in the fall who won’t care what I do for a living?” he asked.

She hesitated, then shook her head, her long auburn hair falling softly around her shoulders. “Just the women you’ve already tried. I pretty much keep to myself out at Opal Ranch and don’t have time to mingle a lot with the townsfolk.”

Something in her tone warned that he’d pushed her out of her comfort zone. She stared straight ahead, a frown curling the corners of her mouth. She didn’t clarify, but he suspected there was a reason she didn’t associate with the people in town and he couldn’t help wondering why. For now, he decided to change the topic. “Opal Ranch is your home?”

“Yes, we’re fifteen miles outside of town.”

“How many bands of sheep are you running?”

“Two.”

“With about four thousand head?”

“Closer to three.” At his questioning look, she continued. “We’ve had some setbacks.”

“Such as?”

“Such as nosy forest rangers,” she retorted.

Wow! She was definitely harboring ill feelings toward the previous ranger. He could see he had his work cut out for him to resolve the anger issues in this town. Her clipped answers told him she didn’t want to talk, but he should know this information as the new ranger. “How many acres of grazing land do you own?”

“Enough.”

He smiled at the quirky way her full lips pursed together in disapproval. “I’m only trying to get to know your needs as one of the permittees. I just want to help.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

He dropped the smile from his face, realizing she was dead serious. “Absolutely not.”

“Good.” She jutted her chin. “We have ten acres of corrals, eighty acres of hay land and another seventy acres of dry pasture, along with lambing and shearing sheds.”

“Sounds like you have a busy operation.”

“It’s not a sideline, if that’s what you mean. Some people come out here from the city, setting up a hobby ranch so they can play with the sheep and cows. For my family, it’s our livelihood and our way of life. My family has owned Opal Ranch for generations. It would kill me to lose our land and—” She clamped her mouth closed, as if realizing she was telling him too much. “I understand.”

She glanced at him, a doubtful frown creasing her brows. “Do you really?”

“Yes, I do. Really. You don’t like me very much.” He shouldn’t have said that. He’d always been too direct. Allison never liked that aspect of his personality. He called things as he saw them, but Allison preferred to play silent, sulking games. He’d never known a person who could hold a grudge as long as Allison.

Melanie glanced at him, her green eyes shooting daggers. “If you were me, would you like the ranger very much?”

“Sure. I’m a nice guy and I’ve never done anything to hurt you.”

She took a deep, exasperated breath before letting it go. “Surely they told you the problems stirred up by the last ranger here in Snyderville?”

“They?” he asked.

“Yeah, your bosses. The people you work for. They must have told you about the trouble the last ranger caused.”

“Yes, that’s why they brought me in. To help smooth all of that over.”

She snorted. “And how do you intend to do that?”

“One permittee at a time. I thought I’d start with you.”

“No.” She shook her head, staring straight ahead.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I think that’s best,” she said.

“And yet you helped me.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” She tilted her head to look at him, her delicate features outlined in shadows. She seemed too dainty to be running a sheep ranch, and he got the impression she made up in spirit what she lacked in physical strength.

“Of course I would.” He met her eyes. “What did the other ranger do to upset you so much?”

“For one thing, he made a lot of promises he never kept.”

“I won’t do that. Not ever.” And he meant it.

“We’ll see.”

He sighed, realizing it would take time for him to prove himself.

She squirmed in her seat. “Look, can we change the subject?”

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

She didn’t bat an eye. “How old is your daughter?”

“Almost eleven.”

“My Anne is eleven.”

He peered through the darkness at the sleeping girl, finding her mouth open slightly as she breathed. She looked like a sweet child. A smaller version of Melanie, with a pert nose and cheeks sprinkled with freckles and auburn hair like her mom’s. “What grade is she in?”

“She’ll start sixth grade in the fall.”

“Shelley will be in the sixth grade, too. Maybe they can be friends.”

Melanie looked doubtful and then he remembered Anne’s accusation on the mountain. “Why does Anne blame me for her father’s death?”

Melanie sucked in a deep breath.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he added. “Is that getting back into a taboo subject?” He tried to tease her, to lighten things up a bit, but the look on her face told him it wasn’t working. He saw something in her eyes, something vulnerable and fearful. From the little he knew about this woman, he realized she’d been hurt and he sensed the pain went deeper than just the loss of her husband. What had happened to her?

She licked her top lip, seeming to choose her words carefully. “Let’s just say the last ranger wasn’t a nice man and let it go at that.”

Her revelation made Scott’s mind run rampant. He’d never met Ben Stimpson, but he’d heard that the man used some illegal threats to force the ranchers to do his bidding. Had Stimpson threatened Melanie?

Scott sensed a deep reticence in her words. Once her husband died, Ben could have helped Melanie and her daughter, making their lives much easier. Or he could have made things more difficult. Scott figured from Melanie’s comments that it had been the latter.

They didn’t speak much over the next few miles. When she pulled into Snyderville, he breathed a sigh of relief. One lonely streetlight guided their way down Main Street. The morning sun had just peeked over the eastern mountains and he was grateful they were all home safe.

Karen, her husband, Mike, and Scott’s range assistant, Jim Tippet, were all at his house to meet him. As Melanie pulled into the gravel driveway, they came outside fully dressed, Jim’s thinning hair sticking up in places.

“Thank goodness you’re home. Are you okay?” Karen asked as she rushed over to take Scott’s arm.

“I’m fine, thanks to Mrs. McAllister.” Scott smiled at Melanie, who stood back with her arms folded. Anne continued sleeping in the truck.

Jim looked at Melanie. “Good thing you were up on the mountain and found him when you did.”

A tight smile curved her lips. “I was glad to help.”

Yeah, right. Scott doubted her words, but he respected her for doing the right thing in spite of her dislike for him. Without her and Anne, he’d probably be dead now.

“Let me unload Tam and I’ll put him in the corral before I drive Mrs. McAllister home.” Jim went to retrieve Scott’s horse.

“I’ll help you,” Mike said.

As the two men rounded the back of the horse trailer, Scott looked at the Forest Service house, painted white with green trim. Someone had turned the porch light on. Even though he had kind people here to help, he felt overwhelmed by loneliness. “Where’s Shelley?”

“Inside sleeping. She doesn’t even know anything happened,” Karen said.

“Good. I didn’t want to frighten her.” No matter what, he wanted to protect his daughter and let her have as normal a childhood as possible.

“Let’s get you inside so you can rest,” Karen urged.

Scott reached out his hand to Melanie. “Thank you, Mrs. McAllister. I owe you.”

Melanie hesitated before shaking his hand. Her fingers felt chilled and delicate against his.

“You don’t owe me a thing,” she said.

Scott watched her return to the truck, sliding in beside her sleeping daughter. Injured and alone on the mountain without a horse, he could have died. He had Melanie to thank for his life. Right then, he decided he would do everything in his power to return the favor.

As Karen led him up the front steps to his house, he stared at the front door. Thinking about the big, empty rooms, he wished he didn’t have to go inside. If only he had someone to come home to each night besides Shelley. Someone who loved and cared for him as much as he cared for her.

Chapter Three

“Why do we have to come here, Dad? I wanna go home.” Shelley crinkled her nose with repugnance as Scott rapped his knuckles on the front door of the red-brick house.

White trim surrounded each sparkling window. The front porch circled the house, with white paint peeling along the slim columns supporting the second floor. The front gate stood ajar, sagging on its hinges. Cracked cement along the foundation showed a lack of care. Several boards hung loose on the toolshed at the back edge of the lawn. Everything looked tidy, but repair jobs had been ignored. It occurred to him that Melanie McAllister might need his help as much as he needed hers.

“Shell, I’ve already explained to you three times,” he told his daughter. “The people living here saved my life. The least we can do is thank them.”

The girl released an exaggerated sigh. “All right.”

Opal Ranch. Jim had told Scott that the ranch had been named for the white and gold mountains surrounding the valley. Poplars lined the long gravel driveway. Scott remembered Melanie talking about the beautiful sunsets and he could understand why she loved it here. As the summer breeze blew through the treetops, he envied the beauty and solitude of this place.

Shelley peered at the open fields of hay and alfalfa. Boredom crinkled her brow. She stood beside him wearing a short white skirt and sandals, her long, blond hair pulled back with a pink ribbon. Delicate and pretty as a picture.

She held a paper plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies covered with tin foil. Thinking it might be quality time together, he’d insisted that she help him make the cookies after he took two aspirin for his pounding headache. She’d sat on a kitchen stool and munched chocolate chips while he mixed the dough. No amount of cajoling could get her to help measure out the flour and eggs.

“Why couldn’t you just call to say thank you?” the girl complained.

“You wanted something to do. We’re doing something right now.” He forced a smile, her grumbling getting on his nerves. In addition to her pretty looks, she’d inherited her mother’s penchant for whining. He hoped to change that someday soon.

“Maybe no one’s home.” A hopeful lilt filled her voice.

“Maybe they’re working out back.” Scott peered at the rusty old truck sitting in the driveway. He let go of the screen door and it clapped closed. His booted heels pounded the wood as he walked the length of the porch. He ducked his head so he wouldn’t hit the hanging baskets of white petunias and blue lobelia. Several large clay pots filled with white, fragrant alyssum sat along the edge of the porch and he breathed in deeply. Having a background in botany, he was probably one of the few regular men in the world who knew these names.

He glanced around with interest. The green lawn showed impeccable grooming, with flower beds of tall hollyhocks. A vegetable garden of peas, lettuce and beets filled the backyard, guarded by a white picket fence. No tomato or pepper plants. Scott knew they wouldn’t grow well at this cooler elevation.

It seemed Melanie had a green thumb and he liked that for some odd reason.

Shelley followed him, hanging back as a black-and-white border collie with droopy ears trotted out of the barn. The animal gave one bark, then greeted them by sniffing their legs.

“Will he bite?” Shelley circled her dad, seeking protection.

“I don’t think so.” Scott leaned forward and put out his hand, letting the animal sniff him. Considering they were strangers, the dog seemed composed and gentle. Most likely one of Melanie’s sheepdogs, trained to be calm and not bark a lot.

“Hi there, fella. Where’s your master?” Scott scratched the dog’s ears.

“Probably in the barn,” Shelley said.

“Hello! Anyone here?” Scott stood at the back of the McAllisters’ house and shouted. He gazed at the variety of green fields, lean-to’s for working in the hot sun, barns, sheds and corrals filled with sheep. Low fences with tight rails and netting kept the sheep from squeezing through. A tractor, four-wheelers and other equipment sat parked neatly at the side of the garage. Melanie could be anywhere, even up on the mountain. He figured that since they’d been up all night at the hospital, she would have had a late start, like him, and stayed home to work today.

“Dad! Look at the babies,” Shelley exclaimed, pointing at a corral where approximately thirty small lambs scampered around, bawling for their mothers.

“Come on.” Scott stepped off the porch and headed across the road leading to the barn. The dog trotted beside them, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as it panted. The stench of animals filled the air.

“Yuck! It stinks here.” Shelley pinched her nose.

“Breathe through your mouth instead of your nose. You’ll get used to it,” Scott advised.

The girl gave him a look of incredulity, which he ignored. It had been tempting to leave Shelley with Karen today, but he knew they’d never become close that way. The sooner Shelley got used to living in Snyderville, the happier she’d be. Which would make him happy. He hoped.

At the corrals, Shelley stood on the bottom rail of the fence, holding the plate of cookies as she leaned over the top rail to peer at the little, fluffy lambs. He hoped she didn’t drop the plate.

“Oh, they’re so cute. Can we play with them?”

Scott chuckled. “I thought you didn’t want to come along. You thought this would be boring.”

She showed a grin of slightly crooked teeth. “That was before I knew we were gonna see sweet little babies.”

Victory! He’d finally found something she liked.

“Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s here. Maybe you can play with the lambs.” He inclined his head toward the barn.

The wide double doors stood open, the bright sunlight filtering inside. As Scott stepped into the shadows, he caught the pungent aroma of straw and animals. Dust motes floated in the air. Stalls lined one wall of the barn with a small tractor, shovels and other tools hanging neatly on hooks along the other wall. He heard voices coming from the opposite end of the barn.

“You think she’s too tender to ride?”

“Nah, she’ll be all right. Won’t you, girl?”

Scott followed the voices, hearing several muted clapping sounds, as if someone were patting a horse.

Conscious of Shelley hovering at his heels, he peered into a stall at the far end of the barn. An older man wearing a beat-up Stetson and a white, scruffy beard stood bent over a mare’s right front leg. The man held the animal’s hoof between his knees. Wearing baggy, faded blue jeans and old cowboy boots, he used a metal pick to clean dirt away from the sole of the horse’s hoof. He grunted as he fought to reach over his own rotund belly.

Melanie stood leaning against the stall, one booted foot raised and braced against the wooden wall behind her. Her forehead crinkled and her delicate jaw tensed as she watched the farrier work. Strands of auburn hair came free of her long braid, resting against her flushed cheeks. Even wearing blue jeans, she looked too feminine for such work, but Scott knew better. Life couldn’t be easy with her husband gone, but this woman had spunk and was sure of what she was doing. Scott couldn’t help admiring her.

“See here?” The farrier pointed at the hoof and Melanie lowered her foot as she leaned forward to see. “I’ll rasp the outside of the heel, but not the inside toe, which is much lower. I think once we get the heels lined up with the back of the frog, she’ll be in good shape for riding.”

Scott took a step and Melanie turned, her green eyes widening. His senses went into overdrive the moment she looked at him. Since when had he had such a reaction to a woman? Even Allison never made him feel warm and gushy inside. He rubbed one hand over his face, regaining his composure.

Her gaze lowered to his drab olive Forest Service shirt and the badge he wore on the flap of his left front shirt pocket. Her lips pursed together in annoyance. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder at the farrier, she pushed a curl of hair back behind her ear. “Mr. Ennison. This is a surprise.” She gestured nervously toward the bearded man. “Have you met Pete Longley? He’s a local rancher and the best farrier around Snyderville.”

“I’ve heard your name. Glad to meet you.” Scott extended his right hand.

Pete let go of the animal’s hoof and stood straight before clasping Scott’s hand. “Howdy.”

Melanie fidgeted with a bridle hanging on a hook by the stall gate. “Umm, Mr. Ennison’s the new ranger in town.”

“That so?” Pete let go of Scott’s hand a bit too abruptly and narrowed his gray eyes. He studied Scott for several moments before he turned and spat into the dirt. And just like that, Pete dismissed him.

The shaggy man didn’t say another word as he went back to his work on the horse, but his actions spoke volumes. Scott knew the drill and had become inured to this attitude. Pete didn’t respect him simply because he was the forest ranger. He’d find another opportunity to chat with the man later, but right now, he wanted to talk to Melanie.

“What did you want?” she asked.

Shelley peered around his back and Scott pulled his daughter forward. “I never really got to say thank you last night, so Shelley and I made cookies for you.”

Melanie crinkled her brow in confusion. Shelley held out the plate, a shy look on her face. Melanie flashed such a bright smile that Scott sucked back a startled breath and stared. Melanie bent slightly at the waist so she could look Shelley in the eye. “You made these cookies?”

“Yeah, Dad and me.” Shelley tossed a sheepish smile at her father as Melanie took the plate. He hoped that this was a step in the right direction. If Shelley saw how their offering pleased Melanie, perhaps she might learn something about service to others. Normally Scott would have settled for store-bought cookies, but he was trying to be both a mother and father to his daughter. Though Melanie seemed to hold animosity toward him, Scott felt relieved that she treated his daughter with kindness.

He noticed Pete casting speculative glances his way. In return, Melanie shifted her weight to block Pete’s view.

Scott could take a hint. Neither Melanie nor Pete wanted him here, but Scott had been selected for this job for a good reason. It’d take time, but he was determined to work with these ranchers and clean up the problems his predecessor had left in his wake.

“Thank you. I’m sure Anne will gobble them down. I’d better hide them until after dinner,” Melanie said.

“Who’s Anne?” Shelley asked.

“My daughter. She’s out in the sheds feeding the lambs. She’s just about your age.”

“I’m almost eleven.”

“Your dad told me. Anne just turned eleven last week.” Melanie pointed at the door. “You can go see the lambs if you like. They’re awfully sweet.”

Shelley’s face lit up with eagerness. “Can I, Dad?”

Thank goodness. He’d begun to wonder if she’d ever find anything pleasant about Snyderville.

“Sure, honey. Just be careful.”

Shelley trotted off, excited to play with the lambs. It’d be great if she made a new friend and took some interest in their new life here. Scott watched her go with mixed feelings. He hadn’t seen her this animated since they’d moved to Snyderville three weeks earlier. He’d never expected her to find such pleasure at the McAllister ranch. Considering how she could have reacted, Melanie had been surprisingly civil to his daughter and Scott appreciated it more than he could say.

“So did you need anything else?” Melanie asked, urging him toward the barn door.

Scott would have left, but he also had a job to do. He wasn’t about to let this woman rancher with a kind heart chase him off. Not until he won her over and found a way to help her with her grazing permits.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

They stepped outside and he enjoyed a breeze that cooled the sweat on his brow and neck. He felt incredibly lucky to be alive. Because of Melanie, he had a second chance at happiness. His experience with the grizzly had changed him somehow, renewing his appreciation for life. He didn’t want to take anything for granted, especially Shelley.

“What’s up?” Melanie asked, resting her hands on her slim hips. Sunlight glinted off her hair, showing deep highlights of brown, red and gold. Like fire on the mountain. He almost reached out to touch it.

“I’d like to make a personal business arrangement with you.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What kind of business arrangement?”

He indicated the picket fence with his chin. “I can see you need some help around this place and I need summer child care. How would you feel about watching Shelley for me during the weekdays and in return I’ll work for you on the weekends and some evenings?”

As he expected, her mouth dropped open and she stared as if he’d gone daft. She cleared her throat and studied the barn, thinking things over.

“Shelley’s a good girl,” he hurried on. “She wouldn’t be much trouble. In fact, she can help you with chores. And I’ve taught her to ride. She’d do fine, if you gave her a gentle horse.”

He was talking fast now, hoping she’d agree. Hoping she’d look past his position as the forest ranger and see that they could help each other out.

Melanie whirled around and looked him in the eye. “Why would you ask me to do this? I’m basically a stranger. You don’t really know me, yet you’re willing to leave your child with me?”

He nodded. “Karen told me you’re a good, hardworking woman. She said you’d take care of Shelley, but keep her busy so she didn’t have time to whine about how much she hates leaving her old friends.” He smiled. “Besides, any woman who would help me the way you did last night couldn’t be bad. I already feel as if I’ve known you for years.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, but it was true. He felt more comfortable around Mel McAllister than around any woman he’d ever met. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and she didn’t worry about mussing her long hair.

Karen had also told him that Melanie’s husband had been an alcoholic, which was one reason Opal Ranch wasn’t doing so well. When Scott heard this, he understood why Melanie didn’t mingle with the townsfolk much. When your husband was a drunk, you didn’t have many friends. Having grown up with an alcoholic father, Scott would never forget the drunken rages, financial destitution, teasing from other kids and feelings of fear and abandonment. Melanie had a good reason not to trust others.

Melanie chuckled, a low, raspy sound. “I take it Shelley’s not too pleased that her dad dragged her here to Snyderville?”

“Nope. Not pleased at all.” He smiled, feeling oddly happy to be talking to this woman. Being near her was the highlight of his day.

“Well, a friend might do my Anne some good, and I could sure use your help around this place.” She hesitated, wrapping her arms around her waist. The action made her seem vulnerable and he was struck by a sudden desire to protect her.

“So it’s a deal?” he urged.

“Okay, we’ll try it for one week. If the girls don’t get along or it’s not working out, you’ll have to take Shelley somewhere else. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She gave him a smile so bright he had to blink. It lit up her face and softened her eyes and he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

What was wrong with him?

He coughed and looked away. “Now that’s settled, I’ve got one more question for you.”

“Okay.” Her green eyes looked guarded.

“Anne said something yesterday that’s been bothering me.”

“What’s that?” Melanie prodded.

“She blamed me for her father’s death.”

Melanie rubbed her ear before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Please don’t hold that against her. She’s still hurting over her dad’s death and doesn’t trust men very much.”

“But why would she blame me?” Scott spoke gently, trying to be sensitive to their loss. Trying to understand.

“It was an accident. Ben Stimpson warned Aaron to move our sheep, but Aaron wouldn’t listen.”

“Ben Stimpson, the previous ranger?”

Melanie nodded. “I didn’t know until after the accident that Aaron was grazing illegally on the forest. He moved one of our bands of sheep onto the grazing allotment twenty days early and Stimpson told him to move them or he’d have them moved for us. Stimpson said he’d sell them to pay the fine.”

Scott would have done the same, after one fair warning with enough time to move the sheep. “So what happened?”

She shrugged one slim shoulder. “Aaron wasn’t in any shape to move the flock. He… He’d been ill and went out during a thunderstorm.”

From Melanie’s hesitation, Scott couldn’t help wondering if Aaron McAllister had been drunk that night.

“I begged him to wait until the next day when some of our men could have helped, but we couldn’t afford to pay another fine. He was angry and wouldn’t listen to reason. Our herder found him the next morning. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an accident.” Emotion thickened her words and she turned away, brushing at her eyes.

Scott longed to comfort her, but realized now wasn’t the time. Compassion settled in his chest. She’d obviously loved her husband and he couldn’t help wishing someone felt that way about him.

He shifted his weight and leaned against a fence post. “So now Anne blames the forest ranger—any forest ranger—for her dad’s death.”

Melanie’s mouth tightened, her eyes filled with sadness. “Yes. He died from a broken neck. His horse had a broken leg and had to be put down. We figure the animal stumbled or lightning spooked it. We’ll never know for sure.” She sighed heavily. “If Aaron had waited until morning, we would have had to pay a hefty fine…but he’d still be alive.”

“And what about Ben Stimpson?” He hated to push her, but longed to know exactly what the other ranger had done to spook her.

Her spine stiffened. “What about him?”

“Did he fine you for the sheep, even though your husband died trying to move them?”

Angry tears filled her eyes. “He was going to, but that’s when several men wearing ski masks paid him a visit in the middle of the night and threatened him. He and his family left town the next day.”

Something cold clutched at Scott’s heart. He figured Stimpson deserved to be chased out of town, but the thought of masked men coming to his house in the middle of the night and terrorizing Shelley didn’t sit well with him. “Who were the men?”

“I don’t know their identities, but as far as I’m concerned, they were my guardian angels.”

Her voice cracked and so did his heart. Scott sensed that she’d reached deep inside herself to tell him these things. Private feelings she probably hadn’t shared with many people. He wasn’t about to take her admissions lightly.

“I’m sorry, Melanie.” What else could he say? It wasn’t anyone’s fault Aaron died; it just happened. But that didn’t make Scott feel any better about the way Stimpson had treated the McAllisters.

“Anne’s just a child. One day, she’ll understand about her father,” Melanie explained.

Scott had doubts. “Traumatic events can scar children so they never forget. Shelley hasn’t said so, but I sense that she blames me for my divorce from her mom.”

He regretted his failings and wished more than anything that Shelley would forgive him.

Melanie gave a hoarse laugh. “It seems that you’re bearing the brunt of everyone’s blame these days.”

“I guess so.” He chuckled, the sound low and rumbly. Inside, he ached with regret.

“I didn’t mean to unload on you,” she confessed. “You’re the last person I should confide in.”

And yet, she had. Somehow it made him feel close to her, and he’d sworn never to get close to another woman again. Especially not a widowed rancher whose young daughter hated him.

Remembering his job and his purpose here in Snyderville, he stepped back. He must keep his relationship with Melanie McAllister completely professional. He had no room for friendship or romance in his life right now. He had to remember that.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” Anne eyed the strange girl as she stepped into the shadows of the lambing shed.

The black-and-white dog followed Shelley inside, and Anne pointed at the door while speaking in a stern tone. “Get out, Bob. You know you’re not supposed to be in the lambing sheds.”

Used to responding promptly to orders, Bob obeyed without even a whine.

Anne frowned when the girl didn’t turn and follow the dog out. “Who are you?”

“I’m Shelley. Your mom told me to come and help you feed the baby lambs.”

Anne stared at the girl’s long, bare legs, white sandals and blue-painted toenails. Maybe Mom would let her buy some blue nail polish the next time they went shopping in Evanston. All she had was pink and red. “You can’t feed lambs dressed like that.”

“Why not?” Shelley stepped backward into a pile of manure. Crinkling her nose with repugnance, she wiped her sandal off on a clean bed of straw before moving to stand over by the wall.

Anne shook her head in disgust, figuring she didn’t need to point out the obvious. “Where’d you come from?”

“My dad and I brought your mom a plate of chocolate chip cookies.”

That sounded nice. Cookies were okay with Anne. “Do you have sheep?”

Shelley shook her head. “No, but I have a cat named Wilson.”

Strange name for a cat. “Who’s your dad?”

“Scott Ennison.”

Anne scowled. She should have known. “You shouldn’t be back here.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause we’re enemies.”

Shelley’s eyes widened. “We are?”

“Yes. You’re Forest Service and I’m a rancher. Don’t you know anything?”

“I’m not Forest Service. I’m just a kid.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anne scoffed. “Your dad’s the ranger.”

“So? Can’t we still be friends?”

Anne glared at her. “Of course not.”

“Why not?”

Anne searched her mind for a valid reason that didn’t sound childish. She tried to remember why her dad hated forest rangers so much, but he’d never really told her his reasons. Just that they forced him to graze his sheep where he didn’t want to graze them. Anne had hated it when Dad drank from his bottle because he got even angrier at the ranger. One time she had even climbed up the cupboard and hidden Dad’s bottle so he wouldn’t drink anymore. When he found it missing, he’d blamed Mom and slapped her across the face. Mom must have known it had been Anne who had taken the bottle, but she never said a word. Mom’s face and lips had been swollen for a week, making Anne feel guilty. Even now, she missed Daddy more than she could say. If he’d just come back home, she’d promise never to hide his bottle again.

When she realized that Shelley was still waiting for an answer, Anne shoved away the painful memories and faced her nemesis. “Your dad bosses my mom around.”

“You’re a liar. My dad’s nice. He helps ranchers.”

Anne pursed her lips when she saw the ugly glare on the other girl’s face. She didn’t want to fight with this stranger. Mom would find out and then she’d be in big trouble. “We’ll see.”

Shelley shrugged, then bent over to pet the fluffy wool of a two-month-old lamb. The little animal hurried by to get at the stalls where Anne was setting up the feeder. Eight pens divided the shed. Anne set out bottles with rubber nipples on a feeding rack, then opened the gate and brought in seven little lambs one at a time. The babies nuzzled up to suckle. One zipped past Shelley, its tail wagging like a whirling dervish as it latched on to a bottle with ferocity. Shelley gave a startled yelp.

“You don’t need to be afraid of them. They’re just hungry,” Anne said. “Haven’t you ever petted a lamb before?”

“No. They’re so soft.” Shelley’s eyes gleamed with happiness as she rubbed a lamb’s velvety ears.

“What are you, a city kid or something?”

Shelley shrugged, looking out of place in her girly skirt. Anne couldn’t help envying the other girl’s creamy complexion and blond hair. She figured Craig Eardley would pay more attention to her if she had Shelley’s blue eyes. Instead, Anne had bright red hair she kept pulled back in a ponytail, green eyes and freckles all over her face, even on her forehead. She could kick the ball off the blacktop at school and run fast, but the boys never chased her during kissing tag. She figured they’d chase after Shelley, though.

“What are their names?” Shelley asked.

“You can’t name them,” Anne scolded. “Why not?”

“Because we sell and eat them. Sheep are a cash crop. Don’t you know anything?”

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Mom told Anne not to name the lambs so she wouldn’t be sad if one of them died or if they sold them, but Anne did it anyway. Just a few of her favorite lambs.

“You eat them?” Shelley’s blue eyes widened with horror.

Anne laughed. “Nah, not really. Mom says we don’t eat our sheep. We just raise them for wool.”

“Oh, okay.” Shelley smiled with relief, bending over to snuggle one sweet, fuzzy lamb.

Anne didn’t want to like this girl, but she couldn’t help it. Shelley didn’t know much, but she seemed to love the lambs as much as Anne did. Obviously, Shelley needed someone to teach her what to do on a sheep ranch.

“Where’re their mothers?” Shelley asked.

“They don’t have moms. These are dogie lambs. They’re orphans.”

“Doggie lambs?”

“No, you’re saying it wrong. They’re not doggie lambs, like Bob is a dog. You say it like dough. Dough-gie lambs.”

Shelley repeated the word perfectly.

“Yeah, that’s what orphans are called.”

“Oh, that’s so sad.” Shelley hugged the lamb again as it tugged on the bottle.

Anne waved a hand in the air. “They’re okay. We take good care of them. They’re already nibbling hay and alfalfa pellets. Soon, we’ll be taking them out to graze in the paddock.”

The hungry lamb jerked, knocking Shelley back into the straw. The girl laughed. “What happened to their moms?”

“Some died, but sometimes the ewe has twins or triplets and she can only take care of one or two of her babies when she goes up to the summer pasture to graze. So we bring the smaller baby here to tend.”

“Then not all the moms died?”

“Of course not, silly.” Anne snickered. “You really don’t know much.”

“Then I guess I’m a dogie lamb, too.”

Anne raised her brow. “What do you mean?”

“My mom isn’t dead, but she doesn’t want me. My dad doesn’t think I know, but I do.”

Shelley sounded like she was about to cry. Anne felt like crying, too, but refused to let it show. Even when Dad had been alive, she’d had an empty feeling inside all the time. Like he didn’t really love or want her. Like he preferred his bottle to her and Mom. But she’d always had Mom to love her. How horrible not to be wanted by your own mother. “What mom doesn’t want her kid?”

Shelley scuffed a sandaled foot against the rough lumber of the feeding stall. “Mine doesn’t. She got married to Malcolm Henley the third, and he doesn’t like kids, so I have to live with Dad. I heard them arguing about it late one night when I was supposed to be asleep.” A glimmer of a smile touched her lips. “Dad can’t cook much, but at least he wants me. He got this new transfer to Snyderville and I had to leave all my old friends behind.”

Anne thought this over for a moment, biting her lower lip. Shelley didn’t have any friends, just like her. During recess, the kids at school called her the town drunk’s daughter and she’d learned to play by herself. “Then that makes you half a dogie because you still have your dad. I guess I’m a half dogie, too. My daddy died, but I still have Mom and she loves me lots.”

Tears glistened in Shelley’s eyes. “My dad loves me, too. I’m sorry we’re both half dogies.”

“Me, too.”

And right then, Anne knew it wasn’t Shelley’s fault that her father was the forest ranger. They had a lot in common. It got so lonely here at the ranch with no one but Mom and an occasional work hand to talk to. The herders were always nice to her, but Mom never left her alone with them and they really didn’t have anything in common with her. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be a little bit nice to Shelley Ennison.

“Come on. I’ll show you how to feed the lambs. But next time you visit, you should wear blue jeans and boots.”

“I don’t have any boots.”

Anne shrugged. “Then just wear tennis shoes.”

She led Shelley into the next pen. Shelley held the bucket of milk while Anne used a funnel to fill seven bottles. Shelley seemed eager to help and Anne appreciated the company and the help with her chores. But she sure wished Shelley’s dad was a rancher instead of a ranger.

Chapter Four

“What happened?” Melanie ran across the gravel driveway toward the barn.

Anne and Shelley hobbled toward her. Shelley howled in pain, her bare legs streaming blood.

“Shelley! Are you okay?” Scott raced ahead, his face creased with concern.

“Shelley tripped and fell on a bale of barbed wire. It cut her legs up real bad.” Anne had one of Shelley’s arms draped across her shoulders as she helped the other girl limp to the house.

Without a word, Scott scooped Shelley into his strong arms, murmuring soothing words of comfort. Blood smeared his Forest Service shirt and name badge, but he couldn’t care less.

Melanie moved into action, scurrying to the back door of the house. “I’ve got a first aid kit. Bring her inside.”

Scott followed quickly and Anne held the door open while he stepped into the utility room.

“Sit there on one of the kitchen chairs,” Melanie called over her shoulder.

Scott stepped into the kitchen and sat cradling Shelley on his lap. The girl continued to sob while Melanie hurried into the bathroom, retrieved the hydrogen peroxide, salve and bandages, then returned and knelt beside the girl’s injured legs.

Shelley buried her tear-streaked face against her father’s chest. He rubbed her back, soothing her in low tones. Anne stood beside the door in her blue jeans and work boots, looking helpless.

Melanie smiled at the injured girl. “You’ll be okay, sweetheart. We’ll get this taken care of and you’ll be good as new. Did you like the dogie lambs?”

Shelley gave an almost inaudible nod. “Y-yes.”

“Did Anne show you how to feed them?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did they almost knock you off your feet with their exuberance?” Melanie kept up a steady stream of questions, trying to take Shelley’s mind off her injuries. It helped some as the girl’s tears faded to breathless hiccups.

While she cleansed the wounds, Melanie couldn’t help glancing up at Scott. She wasn’t used to tender displays of affection from a man. She’d grown up at Opal Ranch with a kind but gruff father whom she’d only seen cry the day they buried her mother five years earlier. Dad had died shortly afterward, leaving her and Aaron to run the ranch alone.

Although he’d worked hard when he was sober, Aaron never offered her any comfort, not even when she went into labor with Anne. He hadn’t cared for much except buying more booze. She sorely missed her mother’s compassion and gentle faith.

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