The Arizona Lawman. Stella Bagwell

Does your ranch boundary touch mine?”

      “Only for a short distance. On the east side. You see, our ranch covers about seventy thousand acres.”

      A number that made her one thousand acres seem minuscule, Tessa thought. “I see. So that makes us neighbors.”

      His thick, dark brows lifted ever so slightly. “So it seems. That is, if you’re planning on sticking around.”

      She drew in a long breath and let it out. “I’ve not made any definite plans yet. This inheritance has all happened so suddenly and—unexpectedly.”

      “Well, I’m sure you have a family back in Nevada to consider first.”

      Except for the Calhouns, she’d been without a family ever since her mother had died. But she was far too emotionally weary to go into that part of her life now. Especially with this Arizona lawman.

      “I do have people back there. But no husband or children. I’m only twenty-four,” she said, as if that explained everything.

      Up until now, the sporadic sound of a two-way radio could be heard through the open window of his SUV, but he’d basically ignored the crackly exchange. However, his trained ear must have caught something in the dispatcher’s words that called for his attention because he suddenly rose to his feet.

      “Sorry,” he said. “I need to answer that call.”

      He quickly strode off to the vehicle and Tessa used the moment to climb the remaining steps and cross a small yard with fresh-cut grass and a bed full of yellow and purple irises. At the front door, she fished a key from the pocket on her jeans and let herself into the house.

      A small entryway with two long windows and a lone potted cactus led into a spacious living room furnished with a mixture of comfortable furniture, a TV and several table lamps. Paintings and enlarged photos of area landscapes decorated the cream-colored walls, while rugs woven in colorful southwestern designs were scattered over the hardwood floor. Along the front wall, heavy beige drapes covered the windows and blocked out most of the waning sunlight.

      Everything about the room felt warm and welcoming, as if it had been waiting for her to walk in and make herself at home. The odd sensation left goose bumps on her arms and she tried to rub them away as she walked over to a big brown recliner. The soft leather was slightly faded on the headrest and she wondered if this had been the retired sheriff’s favorite chair. Had he sat here watching TV or reading? Or simply dreaming about life?

      Oh, God, why did it matter so much to her? Why did questions about her mysterious benefactor keep pushing and prodding her?

      Her fingers were trailing thoughtfully over the worn headrest when Deputy Hollister stepped into the room.

      His boots thumped against the hardwood floor and from the corner of her eye, Tessa watched him move around the shadowy space, his keen gaze surveying the surroundings as though it were a crime scene.

      “Everything looks just like it did when Ray was here. I imagine Sam has been keeping it all cleaned and dusted. That’s Samuel Leman,” he explained. “He’s worked for Ray for more years than I can remember.”

      Tessa had imagined she’d be exploring the house on her own. The last thing she’d been expecting was to have a sexy deputy give her a guided tour. Especially one that appeared to have been well acquainted with the late sheriff.

      “I see. Does Samuel live here on the property?”

      His gaze landed on her and, without even realizing what she was doing, she pulled her hands away from the recliner and stuffed them into the back pockets of her jeans.

      “No. After Ray died, he moved to a little house about three or four miles from here. You passed it on the way. A peach-colored stucco with a bunch of goats out back.”

      Yes, she vaguely recalled the place.

      “Most folks around here assumed Ray left his place to Sam,” he continued. “After all, he was the one who hung around and took care of him after his lungs quit working.”

      Was this man implying she didn’t deserve the place? The notion disturbed her on many levels.

      Moving away from the chair, she started toward a wide, arched opening. “Look, Deputy Hollister, you can be frank with me. I’m quite certain that you, and everyone else who knew Ray Maddox, isn’t going to understand his last wishes. How could they? I don’t understand them myself. And I’m certainly not thinking I deserved everything the man had worked for in his life. But that’s the way he wanted it. Not me.”

      The deputy followed her into a breezeway and Tessa paused, uncertain as to which direction she wanted to go first. Certainly not to the bedrooms. Not with this man right on her heels.

      He said, “I didn’t mean to sound like I’m accusing you, Ms. Parker. Or that I thought you were undeserving. It’s just that Sam was such a loyal employee for many long years.”

      She let out a long breath. “Then I can only hope that Mr. Maddox left his employee something. As for me—” She broke off and lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I have just as many questions about all of this as you probably do.”

      He opened his mouth as though to say something but must have decided against it. After a pause, he gestured to a pair of swinging doors off to their left.

      “The kitchen is over there. The bedrooms and a study are to the right.”

      Tessa headed to the kitchen and since he’d taken it upon himself to join her, she decided Deputy Hollister clearly wasn’t in a hurry to get home. Or perhaps he felt it was his duty to make sure she was safe and sound before he left the premises.

      “This is beautiful.” She walked over to the left side of the room where a large bay window created a breakfast nook. Beyond the paned glass was an incredible view of distant jagged mountains and rocky bluffs. Closer to the ranch house, the desert slopes were filled with sage, saguaro and blooming yucca.

      Another wave of emotion caused her voice to quaver. “Is this my land?”

      “Most of it. Your boundary stops before it reaches the mountains. The most productive grazing area runs to the east toward Three Rivers,” he explained. “Before Ray became ill, he ran about fifty to a hundred head of cattle. After it became impossible for him to care for the herd, he sold out. I can tell you, giving up his cattle and horses hurt him about as much as the lung disease.”

      “I believe that. I live on a large ranch in Nevada. I see firsthand how much the livestock means to everyone who cares for them.”

      She glanced over her shoulder to see he was studying her with an air of faint surprise.

      “So you’re used to living in the country.”

      “Absolutely. This place is closer to a town than what I’m accustomed to.” She turned and walked over to a long row of varnished pine cabinets. Another wide window sat over a double porcelain sink. After turning on the water to make sure it was in working order, she gazed out at the small backyard shaded by two huge Joshua trees. It was a cozy area with a small rock patio furnished with a pair of red motel chairs and a tiny white table for drinks.

      “It’s fifteen miles from here to town,” he informed her.

      The skeptical sound in his voice put a faint smile on her face. “Yes, I know. The Silver Horn is double that amount of miles from Carson City.”

      “The Silver Horn,” he repeated thoughtfully. “I think I’ve heard of that ranch.”

      “The Calhouns own it. Bart and Orin Calhoun.”

      “I’m not familiar with—uh—” Deep thought put a crease between his brows and then he snapped his fingers with recognition. “Now I remember. My brother Holt purchased a broodmare from that ranch about four years ago. She’s been a dandy.”

      “The Calhouns are known more for their quality horses than anything,” she told him.