bedroom, but Tara had wanted her own place. Lauren Spencer might be her twin, but she was still a stranger, and Tara wasn’t ready to live with another stranger. Her entire childhood had been spent living with strangers, being shuttled from one foster home to another.
The trip went well, albeit with a few layovers and transfers, but Tara was used to travel and made the connections to Helena without a problem.
“Tara,” called a voice as she arrived at the baggage claim area after landing. It was her sister, smiling tentatively, and their alikeness surprised Tara all over again. They had the same long blond hair, the same blue eyes with tiny flecks of gold, and the same height and build.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said. “I have to get a rental car, anyway.”
“I caught a ride with someone so we could travel back together—I couldn’t let you fly in without being met.”
“That’s nice.” Tara was far more accustomed to disembarking alone than she was to having someone greet her. Still, it was a nice gesture from her sister, and the effort was appreciated.
“Is this all you brought?” Lauren asked, looking at Tara’s two bags when they arrived on the carousel.
“I mailed a few boxes, but I travel light. I’ll buy anything the apartment lacks and leave it behind when I go.”
“Hopefully the apartment will be all right. It’s just a block from where I live and fully furnished the way you wanted, but the landlord said he’d understand if you decide to find somewhere else. He was surprised you didn’t want to choose your own place.”
“I’m used to it,” Tara explained. “The company I work for makes my living arrangements, which saves time. Besides, I’m not fussy. It’s just a place to sleep.”
After picking up the vehicle she’d reserved, Tara set the GPS and headed for Schuyler, a small town a couple of hours away.
“How was the flight?” Lauren asked after they’d passed the Helena city limits.
“I slept part of the way, which made it shorter.”
“Even so, you must be exhausted. The jet lag got me pretty bad when I flew back to California after visiting you in Paris.”
“Right. I’ll probably go to bed almost as soon as we get to the apartment.”
It was a good excuse to cut the day short. They ate supper on the way, and there was a second hug after they arrived at the furnished apartment, which was much nicer than Tara had expected in a small town in the wilds of Montana.
“I’ll come to the clinic tomorrow and take you out to lunch,” Tara promised. She didn’t want things to be uncomfortable with Lauren, but she didn’t know how else to act. Her twin was obviously better with people than she’d ever learned to be.
Lauren brightened. “That would be great.”
So Tara had the evening to regroup and unpack her bags, and she could sleep late the next morning. She reminded herself that nobody could expect to build a sisterly relationship overnight. After all, anybody who believed twins automatically connected had never spent more than thirty years apart from their sibling.
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN the order was canceled?” Josh barked into the phone. “I was expecting it to arrive this week. I’ve got heifers ready to breed.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. McGregor, but that’s what our records say,” explained the woman on the other end of the line. “We received a call that you didn’t need it.”
“Who called?” Josh demanded, though he was certain who was responsible.
“Walt Nelson is the name on my form. He had the purchase order number as confirmation.”
“Thank you,” Josh said crisply. “In the future, please note that I’m the only one who can cancel orders.”
“Very well.”
He slammed down the receiver and strode out to the yard where his grandfather was sitting.
“Why did you cancel my order from the Double J Ranch?” he asked.
Walt set his jaw. “Because we don’t need any frozen bull semen. Especially from Texas.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Texas,” Josh returned, trying not to lose his temper. Grandpa was an old-school rancher and had never forgotten the remark from a visiting Texan about Montana’s “little ole cows.” He’d never forgiven it, either. Josh supposed it hadn’t helped when he’d taken a job in the Lone Star state. Fifteen years ago, he’d tried working on the Boxing N during first his summer break in college but had been treated like a peon with no horse sense. Things weren’t much better now.
“Huh.” Walt crossed his arms over his chest. “They might have done mail-order breeding at that fancy-dancy ranch where you worked down there, but my cattle are already first-rate. If we want to vary it up, we make arrangements with our neighbors.”
Why couldn’t he understand? Josh wanted to produce top-grade organic beef. He had started the process of getting the Boxing N’s grazing land certified as pesticide-free, but even in the parts of the ranch that couldn’t be certified, he wanted to improve the stock. And borrowing a bull from a neighbor’s ranch wasn’t the improvement he had in mind. The Double J Ranch had prize-winning bull semen for sale, and it was exactly the upgrade he wanted.
Of course...he could go to his brother. Jackson’s breeding program was well-known, but Josh didn’t want to slide in on his family’s coattails. It already felt as if he was behind the curve since Grandpa had delayed his retirement so long.
The thought sent a mix of sorrow and guilt through Josh.
Twenty-five years ago, Grandpa Walt and his brother had made plans for the futures of their respective ranches. Since Mitch was older and didn’t have children and Walt had two grandsons, Jackson and Josh, they agreed that Mitch would retire and give his ranch to his great-nephew once Jackson got out of college. Walt, in turn, would give the Boxing N spread to his younger grandson, Josh. Except Walt Nelson hadn’t retired when Josh graduated college, he’d kept working...until the accident.
“I have a plan for the Boxing N, and bull semen from the Double J is part of it,” Josh said as calmly as possible. In the four months since Grandpa had given him the ranch, he’d danced around, trying to be considerate and respectful, but the situation was wearing on him.
“Fancy-dancy nonsense,” Walt proclaimed. “That isn’t the way we do things here.” He stood. “I’m going to see how Grasshopper is doing. It’s her first foal.”
As Walt Nelson limped toward the foaling barn, Josh held back a howl of frustration. Grandpa couldn’t let go of being boss, but you couldn’t have two bosses on a ranch, especially two with such dissimilar ideas.
Perhaps it harked back to the old rivalry between the Nelsons, Josh’s mother’s family, and the McGregors, his father’s. It hadn’t been a blood feud, but it was fierce nonetheless, and it must have been a terrible blow to Walt when his only child fell in love with someone from the enemy camp. Walt still didn’t really approve of the McGregors.
Needing space, Josh went to the barn, saddled Lightfoot and rode toward the north section of the ranch.
His frustration doubled when he saw slack wire on a fence. One of the ranch hands should have found the problem and taken care of it, but they were confused about whose orders to follow, who was doing what and when to do it. And they were also shorthanded since several men had quit, telling Josh that they’d return once Walt was out of the picture. Between the two problems, things were getting missed.
Taking the tools from his saddlebag, Josh began repairing the fence. Grappling with wire was preferable to the tug-of-war he was having with his grandfather. He would have used his trust fund to buy a different ranch years ago if he’d known everything would turn out this