if the other person was somewhat agreeable.
Mentally, she cataloged the things she’d learned about Drake Carson.
He was in charge of the ranch, which spanned thousands of acres and was home to lots of cattle and horses, as well as wildlife. The Carsons had very deep roots in Bliss County, Wyoming, going back several generations. He loved the outdoors, and he was good with animals, particularly horses.
He was, in fact, a true cowboy.
He was also on the quiet side, solitary by nature, slow to anger—but when he did get mad, he could be formidable. At thirty-two, Drake had never been married; he was college-educated, and once he’d gotten his degree—land management and animal husbandry—he’d come straight back to the ranch, having no desire to live anywhere else. He worked from sunrise to sunset and often longer.
Harry, the Carsons’ housekeeper, whose real name was Harriet Armstrong, had dished up some sort of heavenly pie when Luce had arrived at the main ranch house fairly early in the day. As soon as Harry understood who Luce was and why she was there, she’d proceeded to spill information about Drake at a steady clip.
Luce had encountered Mace Carson, Drake’s younger brother, very briefly, when he’d come in from the family vineyard expressly for a piece of pie. Harry had introduced them and explained Luce’s mission—i.e., to gather material for her dissertation and interview Drake in depth, thus getting the rancher’s perspective.
Mace had smiled slightly and shaken his head in response to Harry’s briefing. “I’m glad you’re here, Ms. Hale, but I’m afraid my brother isn’t going to be a whole lot of use as a research subject. He’s into his work and not much else, and he doesn’t like to be distracted from whatever he’s got scheduled for the day. Makes him testy.”
A quick glance in Harry’s direction had confirmed the sinking sensation Mace’s words produced. The older woman had given a small, reluctant nod of agreement.
Well, Luce thought now, standing face-to-horse with Drake, they’d certainly known what they were talking about, Mace and Harry both.
Drake was definitely testy.
He stared grimly into the rainy distance for a long moment, then muttered, “As if that damn stallion wasn’t enough to get under my hide like a nasty itch.”
“Cheer up,” Luce said. She loved a challenge. “I’m here to help.”
Drake gave her a long, level look. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” he asked very slowly, and without a hint of humor. He flung out his free hand, making his point, the reins resting easily in the other one. “My problems are over.”
“Didn’t you say you were leaving?” Luce asked.
He opened his mouth, closed it again, evidently reconsidering whatever he’d been about to say. Finally, with a hoarse note in his voice, he went on. “I planned to,” he said. “But if I did, you’d be out here alone.” He looked around. “Where’s your horse? You won’t be getting close to those critters again today. The stallion will see to that.”
Luce’s interest was genuine. “You sound as if you know him pretty well.”
“We understand each other, all right,” Drake said. “We should. We’ve been playing this game for a while now.”
That was going in her notes.
She shook her head in belated answer to his question about her means of transportation. “I don’t have a horse,” she explained. “I parked my car at your place and hiked out here.”
The day had been breathtakingly beautiful, before the clouds lowered and thickened and began dumping rain. She’d hiked in all the western states and in Europe, and this was some gorgeous country. The Grand Tetons were just that. Grand.
“The house is a long way from here. You came all this way on foot?” Drake frowned at her. “Did my mother know you were crazy when she agreed to let you do your study here?”
“I actually enjoy hiking. A little rain doesn’t bother me. I’ll take a hot shower when I get back to the house, change clothes and—”
“When you get back to the house?” he repeated warily. “You’re staying there?”
This was where she could tell him that Blythe Carson was an old friend of her mother’s, and she’d already been installed in one of the guest rooms, but she decided not to mention that just yet, in case he thought she was taking advantage. She was determined not to inconvenience the family, and if she felt she was imposing, she would move to a hotel. She’d planned to do just that, actually, but Blythe, hospitable woman that she was, wouldn’t hear of it. Lord knew there was plenty of room, she’d said, and it wouldn’t make any sense to drive back and forth from town when Luce’s work was right here on the ranch.
“You live in a beautiful house, by the way,” she said, trying to smooth things over a little. “Not what I expected to find out here in the wide-open spaces. All those chandeliers and oil paintings and gorgeous antiques.” Was she jabbering? Yes. She definitely was, and she couldn’t seem to stop. “I mean, it’s hardly the Ponderosa.” She beamed a smile at Drake. “I was planning to check into a hotel, or pitch a tent at one of the campgrounds, but your mother wanted no part of that idea, so...well, here I am.” Why couldn’t she just shut up? “My room has a fabulous view. It’ll be incredible, waking up to those mountains every morning.”
Drake, understandably, was still a few beats behind, and little wonder, the way she’d been prattling. “You’re staying with us?”
Hadn’t she just said that?
She smiled her most ingenuous smile. “How else can I observe you in your native habitat?” The truth was, she intended to camp at least part of the time, provided the weather improved, simply because she wanted to enjoy the outdoors.
Drake himself was one of the reasons she’d chosen the area for her research work, but he didn’t know that. He was well respected, a rancher’s rancher, with a reputation for hard work, integrity and intelligence.
She’d known, even before Harry filled her in on the more personal aspects of Drake’s life, that he was an animal advocate, as well as a prominent rancher, that he’d minored in ecology. She’d first seen his name in print when she was still an undergrad, just a quote in an article, expressing his belief that running a large cattle operation could and should be done without endangering wildlife or the environment. Knowing that her mother and Blythe Carson were close had been a deciding factor, too, of course—a way of gaining access.
She allowed herself a few minutes to study the man. He sat his horse confidently, relaxed and comfortable in the saddle, the reins loosely held. The well-trained animal stood there calmly, clipping grass but not moving otherwise during their discussion.
Drake broke into her reverie by saying, “Guess I’d better take you back before something happens to you.” He leaned toward her, reaching down. “Climb on.”
She looked at the proffered hand and bit her lip, hesitant to explain that, despite her consuming interest in horses, she wasn’t an experienced rider—the last time she’d been in the saddle, at summer camp when she was twelve, something had spooked her mount. She’d been thrown, breaking her collarbone and her right arm, and nearly trampled in the process.
Passion for horses or not, she was anything but confident.
She couldn’t tell him that, not after the exchange they’d just had. He would no doubt laugh or make some cutting remark, or both, and her pride smarted at the very idea.
Besides, she wouldn’t be holding the reins, handling the huge gelding; Drake would. And there was no denying the difficulties the weather presented, in terms of trailing the stallion and his mares from place to place.
She’d gotten some great footage during the afternoon, though, and made some useful notes, which meant the day wasn’t a total loss.
“My