Chapter One
Death never cameat convenient times. Landon Wyle had already spread himself thin taking care of his own cattle, and now that his neighbor, Cal Benton, had passed away, Landon would most likely have to help out with his cattle as well. Landon owed him that much. The man had been a surrogate grandfather to him for as long as he could remember.
Landon drove his pickup truck to the front of Cal’s house. No, Landon realized with a pinch of pain; he had to stop thinking of it as Cal’s place. This house and the Coyote Glen Ranch belonged to the Bentons now. That would take some getting used to.
Landon sat in the truck for a moment, going over what he needed to say to Jeff Benton, Cal’s son. A few years ago, two of the Wyles’s wells had gone dry, effectively cutting their water by a third. Some ill-thought-out state regulations made it illegal to drill new wells, so Cal had given them access to his front two wells. In exchange, the Wyles had baled his alfalfa for him all year.
Hopefully, the Bentons would consent to some sort of an agreement regarding the wells. The Wyles needed that water.
It felt almost wrong to talk business to people who were grieving, but matters needed to be settled. Landon pulled himself from his truck and strode toward the door.
Cal’s dog, a black and white border collie named Missy, trotted up to greet him. The dog was all tail wags and bounce. Probably glad to see a familiar face. Landon petted her and gave her an extra few moments of scratching behind the ears. The poor thing must have no idea where Cal had gone or why he hadn’t come back. She used to follow him around like a shadow.
Missy accompanied Landon across the porch to the doorstep. He wondered if Cal’s family was letting the dog inside at all. Some folks thought dogs belonged outside. Landon gave her one more scratch before knocking.
After a few moments, the door swung open, revealing a woman with long strawberry blond hair and pale green eyes. A pair of black jeans and an emerald green top hugged her curves. Kate Benton had turned into a beautiful woman. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised. When he’d last seen her at her grandmother’s funeral six years ago, she’d been a pretty sixteen-year-old girl—the sort that gave off the impression of a fawn, doe-eyed and innocent.
“Kitty?” The nickname hardly seemed to fit her anymore. “Well, you’ve grown up.”
“So they tell me.” Her expression was reserved. Too distant. She either didn’t recognize him or she was still holding a grudge from the last time she’d stayed with her grandparents.
He held out a hand to shake hers. “In case you don’t remember me, I’m Landon from the Wyle Away ranch.”
She gave him her hand with a wry smile. “I know who you are. You haven’t changed that much.”
So, the grudge then. Good thing his business would be with her father and not her.
Missy circled Kitty’s legs, asking for attention. She patted the dog but kept her gaze on Landon. “What can I do for you, Mr. Wyle?”
He wasMr. Wylenow. Apparently spending summers as neighbors while she stayed on her grandparent’s ranch wasn’t enough to put them on a first-name basis.
“Call me Landon.” He couldn’t help but add, “I’m sure it’s nicer than some of the names you’ve called me.”
The phrase earned him a real smile. “If you only knew.”
“I can imagine.”
She didn’t invite him in, just politely regarded him. But then, he’d never told her why he was standing on her doorstep. “I came to offer my condolences and see if there’s anything my family can do for yours.”
Her gaze flicked to his ring finger. Probably wondering if he was volunteering a wife’s help. “Your family?”
“My brothers, I mean.” He wasn’t married. Too busy for that. “Preston is a senior in high school. Dillon lives nearby.” Dillon worked as a bank manager in Bisbee—something Landon only forgave him for because he came home on the weekends to do the Wyle Away’s books. “And Jaxon and his daughter live with me at the ranch.”
Kitty’s eyebrows lifted. “Jaxon is married?”
Did he detect disappointment in her question or only surprise? She’d had a thing for Jaxon back when she was fifteen.
“No,” Landon said slowly, unsure of how much of Jaxon’s past to reveal. “He’s single. Things didn’t work out with his daughter’s mother.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Landon had completely forgotten his rehearsed speech. He found himself staring at Kitty and thinking about those long-ago summers when she’d stayed here.
“It’s nice of you to offer your help.” She opened the door further. “Why don’t you come in.”
Well, that was some progress. He took off his hat and stepped into the home that was as familiar as his own. Changes were already present. None of Cal’s boots littered the entryway. The usual clutter of spare gloves and miscellaneous paperwork on the coffee table had been cleared off.
He followed Kitty into the living room and sat down. Missy positioned herself by his feet and then nudged his hand with her nose, a request for petting. Kitty sat on the couch across from him, tucking her bare gold-painted toes beneath her. The paint matched her manicured fingernails.