A Silver Lining Read Free Page A

running a ranch."
    "Learn it."
    "It would take a lifetime to learn it."
    "So? I doubt you have anywhere you gotta be."
    That brought her up short, as if he had slapped her in the face. Truthfully, no, she had nowhere to go and nothing to hold her.
    "From the looks of ya,” he continued, “you need some meat on your bones, you need to learn how to dress like a lady, and you need a bath ‘cuz you stink of cigarettes. And I oughta know."
    It took a moment for the words to sink in, because Heather wouldn't believe what she heard.
    "Listen, old man,” she said as she rose from the chair. She put her hands on her hips. “I don't know who you think you are, but I have no problem driving away and never looking back."
    Lincoln Hart's washed-out eyes narrowed on her. Once upon a time they would have frozen a man in his tracks, but all they did now was waver in long-lost intensity.
    "You've got a hard look in your eyes,” he finally said, perhaps a bit sadly.
    "What do you want, old man? For me to spout some bullshit that life is hard? Of course it is. And the only way to stay alive is through cash. So, if you're done criticizing my wardrobe and hygiene, then I think—"
    "You stay for a month, I'll pay you.” He interrupted without a hint of emotion.
    Heather cocked her head. “How much?"
    "Five hundred."
    Heather snorted. “A thousand."
    "For one thousand dollars, I expect you to learn five things about this ranch."
    "Five things? Like what?"
    "I'm not gonna hold your hand, girl. Figure it out. Those are my terms."
    Heather thought quickly. She could use the money, and she could use a roof over her head for the next month. Hell, she could use the money selling this place would bring her. How hard would it be to learn five things about a ranch?
    "You're on, old man,” she said. “I expect cash."
    "Most women do."
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Chapter Three
    Heather decided if this was to be a popularity contest where the cowboys were deciding the winner of the ranch, then she had it won hands down. After moving her suitcase and various boxes into the room that Mabel showed her to, Heather sat down on the feather-tick mattress to plan out her strategy.
    It was clear the old man wanted to give her the ranch. While she didn't think he needed to justify his final decision to the workers, she recognized that she didn't have all the facts. Clearly Tristan Rogers was a man to be reckoned with. Twenty years ago he had a forceful presence about him that even a naive girl could recognize, and the years only enhanced that budding promise.
    Of course she remembered when her Uncle Avery had died. Her mother had called her up to let her know that Avery, only forty, had broken his neck in an auto accident on the ranch. It had been raining heavily, there had been a mudslide, and the truck had rolled. Tristan's uncle, Simon, had also been in that accident, and when the news had come, he had gone to Hart Ranch to help her grandfather.
    He had never left.
    But whether Tristan Rogers knew it or not, she wasn't about to let go of her inheritance without a fight.
    Heather reached for a cigarette and lit one, taking a deep drag and holding it in her lungs for a moment before releasing it. Thoughts of Tristan made her jumpy, on edge. Over the years he had crept into her mind whenever her mother or father would mention Hart Ranch, or when the vacation album had been out. Of course, once her father had walked out on them, those fond reminiscences had disappeared altogether.
    The past can't be undone, and the sins can't be erased.
    Heather shook her head and deliberately steered her mind away from that door in her memory. It had been locked years ago for a reason. After another drag on her cigarette, she looked for a place to smash it out, finally opening her half-filled water bottle to throw it in. She swished the water around to make sure the fire was out and then sat the bottle on her nightstand.
    A popularity contest would be no problem at all. She