The Rancher's Prospect. Callie Endicott

was a wily old coot. Walt had planned ahead, hired Tara and made sure she knew he was the one writing her paychecks. Josh couldn’t help wondering why. There were qualified secretaries and accountants in Schuyler that Walt could have employed. Of course it was doubtful that any of them looked like Tara—so what was the possibility that his grandfather had been bowled over by a young woman’s beauty? Not in an inappropriate way, but the way an old man appreciates the reminders of youth and a young man’s vigor.

      Josh didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. Of one thing he was sure—Walt was a stiff-necked pain in the ass and couldn’t let go of controlling the ranch, but he was honorable. And on that, Josh trusted they had a small amount of common ground.

      * * *

      CARL STANFIELD PULLED to a stop at the light and waved at Emmett Foster as he crossed in front of the sheriff’s cruiser. Emmett was around sixty and ornery as sin, but Carl liked him. It was hard not to like most of the people in Schuyler. That wasn’t to say his job was heaven on earth. No job—and no town—was perfect. But on average, it was considerably calmer in Schuyler than in St. Louis, where he’d worked for a good deal of his career.

      St. Louis was a great place, but it was still a city. And after being a homicide detective for a decade, few things surprised Carl anymore—he’d pretty much seen the worst.

      But in Schuyler he saw a lot of the best. Of course, he also had to deal with the occasional cattle theft. Then there was the time he’d arrested a guy for a DUI because he was drunk while riding a horse. Not that a DUI while riding a horse would hold up in court—officially the charge was drunk and disorderly—but folks in Schuyler loved the story.

      After parking at the medical center, Carl went inside.

      “Hi, Karen,” he greeted the receptionist. “It isn’t an emergency, but does Lauren have a minute?”

      “I’ll check when she’s finished with her patient.”

      “Great.”

      Unable to relax, Carl stood at the window watching the traffic pass in the street. He’d been in Schuyler for over two years and it was working out well.

      Now he wanted to get his personal life on track. When he’d lived in St. Louis, the idea of settling down had held little appeal. The divorce rate among cops was disturbingly high, but things seemed different in Schuyler. A small town sheriff surely had a better shot at a successful marriage than a homicide detective working all hours of the day and night. Besides, the town felt like a good place to settle down and raise a family.

      Not that Schuyler didn’t have its pitfalls. The area had quite a history of ranch rivalries and family loyalties, which was why the county supervisors had decided to look for law enforcement from outside the area. For the same reason, Carl had realized it might be best to date women who were relatively new to town...such as Lauren. Well, Lauren was the only one he’d dated, but there was something special about her.

      “Carl?” Karen said, breaking into his thoughts.

      He swung around. “Yes?”

      “Why don’t you wait in Lauren’s office?”

      “Sure.”

      That was better. He’d rather not talk to Lauren in front of the waiting patients, and particularly not in front of Karen after their recent encounter at Ryan’s Roadhouse. She and her boyfriend had just broken up and she’d had more than her share of booze, though to her credit she’d given her car keys to the bartender the minute she ordered her first Long Island iced tea. Somehow she’d consumed five of them and had still been sitting upright.

      Poor kid. She’d cried on his shoulder and asked what was wrong with her...following the question with a passionate kiss. Carl had declined the overture and made sure she got home safely. He doubted she remembered much about the evening and would rather keep it that way.

      Karen gestured to the door on her left. “Go ahead. Room ten.”

      Carl spotted Lauren at a computer station as he turned the corner. She was entering information, only looking up when a patient approached her with a question. As she talked to the man and his child, her face lit with the smile that had drawn Carl from the first time they’d met.

      Smiling himself, he stepped into her office.

      He’d liked Lauren from their initial meeting at the Hawkins wedding and had been pleased when she decided to move to Schuyler. As the story went, a few days after the wedding she’d called the clinic to see if a job was available. A month later she was living in Schuyler. It was easy to imagine how delighted the clinic had been to hire a PA who didn’t have to be convinced that moving to a remote town, two hours from a commercial airport, wasn’t a fate worse than death.

      Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t changed her mind once she’d arrived and faced the prospect of a long Montana winter. Could that be part of the reason she’d started putting him off...uncertainty she wanted to stay, after all?

      Carl was annoyed at himself for making excuses for her refusals; he didn’t suffer from a lack of confidence, but Lauren’s absence of enthusiasm had tweaked his ego, especially since his instincts said that she liked him.

      Restless, he got to his feet again. The office suited Lauren—well organized with personal touches that made it inviting without being unprofessional. On the bookshelves were a few photos of an older man and woman—presumably her adoptive parents—along with one that appeared to be a selfie of her and Tara Livingston in Paris, the Eiffel Tower behind them.

      Just then the door opened behind him, and he turned around. It was Lauren.

      “Hi, Carl,” she said as she came into the room. “Karen mentioned you needed to see me. Is there a problem?”

      “Not at all. I was driving past and wanted to touch base with you about tomorrow evening. We’ve tried some places here, so how about going to Windy Bluffs for dinner? There’s a steak house, an Italian place, Mexican and Chinese. The Chinese place isn’t as good as it could be, but it’s edible. Does one of them sound okay to you?”

      “All of them, I guess.”

      “Do you have a favorite?”

      “Uh...usually Chinese,” she told him, looking nervous. “But if it isn’t that good, maybe it would be best to go elsewhere. How about the...um, Mexican restaurant?”

      “Fabulous,” he answered, pleased. Deep inside he’d wondered if she would say she didn’t want to go out with him again after all. “Maybe after dinner we could see a movie, or perhaps take a walk along the river.”

      “Either would be nice. The trail beside the water is pretty, though I’m uncomfortable going there alone.”

      “It isn’t a good idea to go into isolated areas by yourself,” Carl agreed. “Let’s see what appeals once we finish dinner. Okay?”

      “Sure.”

      “I won’t keep you—I know how busy this place is. How about tomorrow at five?”

      “Sure.”

      “Sounds like a plan.”

      Carl walked out, refraining from whistling. She hadn’t canceled and seemed to be okay with his suggestions for the following evening.

      Eating in Windy Bluffs had been his top choice, since he preferred going someplace where fewer people knew them. He had yet to eat a meal out in Schuyler without townspeople stopping to chat. As a rule he welcomed it, since law enforcement in a small community was partly about building relationships. But it had made his first dates with Lauren awkward to have so many interruptions.

      Carl let loose a whistle as he climbed into his cruiser. Life in Schuyler was good.

      * * *

      LAUREN’S HAND SHOOK as she picked up the chart for her last patient of the day. When Carl had asked what restaurant she preferred, she’d forced herself to say something