A Wife in Wyoming. Lynnette Kent

Teasing was a way of life with the Marshall boys—at the least sign of weakness, they would rib him without mercy.

      He wasn’t sure he could defend himself. Because, as pretty as she had been in high school—and he well remembered lying in the dark in the room he’d shared with Wyatt, thinking about the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts and the cute round butt she got from being a damn fine barrel racer—Caroline Donnelly was a hell of a beautiful woman now.

      The years had refined the elegant bone structure of her face, setting her eyes deeper, sculpting her lips into a delicious smile. Because she didn’t ride as much, her legs were long and slim, shown to advantage by the short skirt of the dress she’d worn today. He’d had to get out of the truck and walk away before she saw how he felt about her. How he’d always felt.

      Not that Caroline would consider dating him, even though he wasn’t one of “those poor Marshall boys” now. Her boyfriends in high school had been the “cool” guys, the ones with nice cars, stylish clothes and plenty of money to spend on their girlfriends. He’d watched them all from a distance, overheard details about the parties, the skiing trips and concerts and vacations. He knew, because his dad talked about it, how fancy the Donnelly house was, how the barn had heated water dispensers in the stalls and, incredibly, a swimming tank for the horses.

      His dad also described life for Caroline and her brother Reid—expensive ponies to ride and train on, handmade saddles and custom bridles and boots, clothes that never seemed to get worn twice. Their vehicles, in high school, were pricey pickup trucks with all the latest gadgets. Nothing was too good for the Donnelly kids.

      Ford had made money over the years, but there was still a big gap between his family’s status and hers. George Donnelly had earned his fortune by producing world-class quarter horses. He and his family socialized with the governors of Wyoming and Texas as well as princes of countries in the Middle East. The Circle M Ranch sold grass-fed, all-natural beef in a few Western states—not the same scale at all. And Ford’s own luxuries—the Mercedes, good suits, a nice apartment—did not compare to the Donnelly empire.

      Caroline attracted him, distracted him and reminded him of the part of his life where the Marshall brothers counted for next to nothing. A part he would prefer to forget.

      So he would be happy if she stayed away from the Circle M. Her plan was too big, anyway, too demanding, too risky. He’d come home to take care of his brothers and do some relaxing of his own before getting back to the career he’d worked so hard to build. End of story.

      Feeling better for having sorted out his problems, Ford reached the house and climbed the porch steps.

      As the screen door fell shut behind him, his youngest brother walked into the living room with a sandwich in one hand and a soda in the other.

      “So what’s this I hear about teenagers staying at the ranch for the summer?” Dylan dropped down onto the couch. “Are we going to have extra hands this year?”

      “Not if I can help it.” Ford sat in the recliner near the fireplace and put up the footrest. “Caroline gave me the hard sell at lunch, but I told her this isn’t a good time for us to be experimenting with a summer camp at the Circle M.”

      “I’d be hard put not to buy whatever that woman had to offer. She’s a beauty, and a sweetheart, besides.”

      Ford unclenched his jaw. “You two would make a great couple.”

      Dylan grinned at him. “Thought that would get to you. You looked pretty starstruck when she walked over this morning.”

      “Eat your lunch. I’m taking a nap.” He closed his eyes, hoping his little brother would get the message and drop the subject.

      “Not that I want a bunch of kids hanging around,” Dylan continued. “I’ve got a show coming up and the work’s not half-finished. Playing babysitter doesn’t fit into my plan for this summer at all.” When Ford didn’t answer, he went on. “But if Garrett is on Caroline’s side, then it comes down to the boss’s opinion, I guess. What do you think Wyatt will say?”

      “About what?” Wyatt stood in the doorway to the back of the house.

      Ford sat up again. “You don’t have your brace on. You’re not supposed to walk around like that.”

      “Yeah, well.” He made a rude hand gesture, which dismissed the doctor’s orders. “What’s this I’m supposed to have an opinion about?”

      Honey sidled around Wyatt and came over to the recliner to get her shoulders and ears scratched. Ford obliged and then got to his feet. “I’ll explain after we get you tacked up, so to speak. I’ll fetch the saddle.”

      Just as he’d finished strapping on the brace, Garrett showed up. “I’m starving—nobody offered to feed their preacher this afternoon. Did you leave the fixings out, Dylan?”

      Wyatt snorted. “When does he ever put them away?”

      “Just thinking somebody else might be hungry,” Dylan said nonchalantly. “Saving them some trouble.”

      “Yeah, right.” Wyatt took the recliner across from the one Ford had claimed. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

      “I’ll let Garrett explain. I don’t want to bias the jury.”

      “That’s lawyer-talk for...?”

      “Garrett supports the idea. He’ll give you the official sales pitch.”

      Bearing a plate with a sandwich and a glass of milk, the man in question sat in the rocking chair, which was the only piece of furniture they’d brought from their childhood house.

      “It was my idea, actually. Caroline was talking about trying to find something for the kids to do over the summer, to keep them out of trouble. And I suggested using the Circle M as a place for them to hang out, to learn and mature.” Between bites and gulps, he outlined the proposal with almost as much enthusiasm and optimism as Caroline had shown.

      Ford had to admit he’d enjoyed the explanation a lot more when he was listening to her, watching the shine in her eyes, the tilt of her head when she’d smiled—yet another reason he wanted the entire idea to go away. Next summer, when he wasn’t around, they could work on this project. Wyatt could handle Caroline and her teenagers.

      Maybe Wyatt would fall for Caroline. Or maybe Garrett already had, and that was why he was pushing the plan.

      “Ford, I can tell by your face that you’re not in favor of this program.” Wyatt stroked Honey’s head where it rested on his knee. “What are the arguments against the idea?” His mouth twisted with pain. “Wait a minute. I feel like I’m falling backward, trying to sit in this chair. Garrett, let me have the rocker.” He struggled to stand up as the brace kept his spine straight and prevented any twisting or bending between his neck and his hips. “Thanks.”

      Honey looked at the new arrangement and opted to stay where she was with a different knee under her chin.

      “Yeah, what are the arguments?” Garrett said. “I’m seeing only good things—the chance to help some kids to lead better lives and bring in extra hands for all the work around here. Where’s the downside?”

      Ford went through his objections yet again. “The legal liability is a big problem. If one of those kids gets hurt—the way you are, for instance, and you’ve been riding practically you’re whole life—then I don’t care what form the parents have signed, they’re going to come at us with a costly lawsuit.”

      “Spoken like a true legal eagle.” Garrett had moved into his usual defensive position, sitting forward in the chair with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands gripped together. “Not everybody is so sue-crazy.”

      Relaxed in the recliner, Ford kept his hands loose, his expression neutral. “Both you and Caroline have mentioned that these kids come from families with financial problems. Wave a hundred thousand dollars in their faces and see what kind of crazy