Midnight Snow Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Midnight Snow

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  A word about the author...

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Something you need here, Morgan?”

  Morgan jerked around, obviously not expecting anyone else to be on the property. It didn’t take him long to put on his slimy smile.

  “Trying to weasel your way into the old lady’s good graces, boy?”

  Jackson moved to stand between Morgan and the house. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “I’m just here helping a friend.”

  Morgan snorted at that, which pulled a few low chuckles from his boys.

  “Friend? Since when did you and the old lady become friends?”

  The front door to the house flew open with a crash. For half a second Jackson thought one of Morgan’s men had kicked in the door. But the sight before him made his heart stop.

  With her bright golden hair catching every ray of sunshine, and her knit top and faded denim clinging to her sweet curves, she looked like an avenging angel with a rifle in her hands.

  “Get the hell off my property!”

  Morgan’s mouth fell open, as did the others. Jackson forced himself to look away before he did something like let his tongue hang out.

  Midnight Snow

  by

  Jo Barrett

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Midnight Snow

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Jo Barrett

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Yellow Rose Edition, 2015

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0218-8

  Published in the United States of America

  Chapter One

  The rifle was cool to the touch, but her palms were sweating. If she could just keep her voice steady, Cramer Morgan would think twice before stepping foot on her grandmother’s front porch again.

  “Stop right there, Morgan. Don’t think I won’t shoot you just because you own the biggest ranch in the county.”

  He chuckled with that sickening snake-like grin of his. “Now Mrs. Hampton, you know I only want to talk.”

  Clare nudged aside the lace curtain in front of the open window with the barrel of her gun so he could see she wasn’t kidding but kept her face hidden. If the idiot wasn’t aware of her grandmother’s passing, she wasn’t about to enlighten him. The man probably didn’t even know she existed. Then again, only Sheriff Boyd and the town preacher were aware of Clare’s situation. It wasn’t like she went in to town often.

  “You can talk until you’re blue in the face,” she said, roughing her voice a bit to sound like Granny. Just thinking about her grandmother and how much she missed her put a lump of sawdust in her throat, so it wasn’t difficult to pull off. “I’m not selling one acre of this land. Now get the hell off my property.” Clare cocked the gun to make her point.

  Morgan held up his hands and started to back away. “Alright, I’m going. But I’m not giving up.”

  “If you step foot on my property one more time, I won’t warn you before I shoot.” And for good measure, she blew a hole in the porch floor beside his foot.

  Morgan jumped about three feet. “You crazy old woman!”

  “Get—off—my—property,” she said lowly, as she re-cocked the gun.

  The rancher didn’t hesitate this time, but in his haste he managed to step through one of the holes in the porch floor where it had rotted away. Cursing at the tear in his pants leg, he jerked free and hurried to his SUV parked in front of the farm house.

  “We’re not through, you crazy old bat!”

  She uncocked the gun and propped it against the wall beside the door, as she watched him drive off in a cloud of dust. “I just bet we aren’t.”

  Clare shook her head and sighed. He’d be back and she’d be ready, but she wasn’t going to give an inch. Cramer Morgan could offer her the moon, and she’d still tell him where to shove it. This was her home now, and she wasn’t about to let some narcissistic rancher in a suit get one tiny piece of it. Granny had turned him down over and over. And now that it was hers, she wasn’t about to go against her grandmother’s wishes.

  She flopped down on the thread worn couch and rested her head back, her eyes closed. Even if she wanted to sell the place, a thought that was almost painful, where would she go? She had no friends, no other family, she was alone in the world, and this old rundown ranch was the only place she’d ever been happy and safe.

  Her ex-boyfriend would never find her here. She doubted he had even bothered to look for her after she left in the middle of the night with nothing more than a small bag of clothes. And he didn’t know about her grandmother. They never really spoke about family. Come to think of it, he didn’t want to know about her past, didn’t want to know much of anything about her. He just wanted her on his arm, playing the role, and keeping her mouth shut.

  “How could I have been so stupid, Granny?” The empty room didn’t offer up an answer, but she didn’t need one. She’d let Mark charm her right out of her panties, and into a life she wouldn’t wish on a dog.

  She should’ve sensed something wrong about him from the beginning, but instead she let his flashy suits and so-called Hollywood friends blind her to the facts. Successful handsome men, who could have their pick of women, didn’t fall madly in love with overworked waitresses.

  Her hand went to the small scar at the edge of her temple where his ring had sliced her. She’d told herself a million times that he hadn’t meant to hurt her, he was just drunk. But the last time he struck her, he hadn’t been drunk, and he hadn’t stopped with one blow. She’d packed her things after he’d fallen asleep and crept out of the condo as silent as a mouse.

  But she wasn’t a mouse. She would protect herself from now on. No one would ever treat her like that again.

  She stood and looked out the window at the rolling land. “And no one is going to take away my home.”

  ****

  Jackson looked to the sky and closed his eyes, and let the sun warm his face. His horse knew the way, and he needed a rare moment of peace. His sister-in-law meant well, but if she didn’t quit trying to fix him up with one of her friends, he’d blow his top.

  But she didn’t deserve his anger. It wasn’t her fault that Brittany, the girl he’d intended to marry, had broken his heart. He still couldn’t believe she’d gone to Dallas for a girlfriend-getaway and never came back. She’d washed her hands of Wyoming and him with not so much as a goodbye.

  Titan whickered, bringing Jackson’s head down and his eyes open. Time to pay attention to his job, or his brother would be on him as well. Although Kyle managed the business side of the White Oak Ranch, half of it was still Jackson’s, and his job today was to ride the lines and
make sure all was as it should be.

  He spied something unusual and pulled up on Titan’s reins. Across the way, on the other side of the fence there was a scattering of cows grazing in Mrs. Hampton’s field. Knowing she didn’t have any cattle, he figured he’d best make sure they weren’t his.

  After riding the length of fencing on his land and finding no breaks, he doubled back to where the cattle were and figured they had to be Morgan’s. He rode down to an old gate Mr. Hampton and his father had put in when Jackson and Kyle were just a kids. The Hampton’s were a lot older than his parents, but his father and Mr. Hampton had been great friends.

  He climbed down from his horse and wrestled with the gate. It protested with a hearty groan as he wrenched it open. Far too many years had passed since he’d used it, and he felt guilty for not visiting Mrs. Hampton sooner. He’d always seen her as sort of an extra grandmother, and now with Mr. Hampton gone, she had to be a little lonely.

  After walking his horse through, he latched it back in place and headed across the field to ride the line. It wasn’t difficult to find the break in the fence bordering Morgan’s property. The wire wasn’t just down but rolled back. No doubt it was on purpose.

  He scratched his head at that, not sure he could believe Mrs. Hampton would allow Morgan grazing rights to her land. Not after she’d given him and his brother a thanks-but-no-thanks when they’d offered to buy the place the previous year.

  Still, if she was hurting for money…no, it didn’t make sense. She detested Morgan. If she really needed the money, she’d come to them first. Which meant that Morgan cut the line and rolled it back without her knowledge.

  He radioed back to the ranch and let them know what was going on, then pointed Titan toward Morgan’s place. Afterward, he would let Mrs. Hampton know what had happened and maybe visit for a spell.

  ****

  “Well, boy, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” Morgan asked, as he greeted Jackson on the front porch of his sprawling house.

  He’d never cared for the ridiculously large house, but Morgan wanted the world to think he was some sort of Wyoming tycoon. In reality, his spread was barely as large and successful as his own place, White Oak Ranch. Which was kind of a sore in Morgan’s side, so he had no doubt that their conversation would be anything but friendly.

  “I thought I’d let you know you’ve got a break in your line bordering the Hampton place. Some of your cattle have wondered over.”

  Morgan pushed his thumbs into his waistband, his eyes squinting just a bit. “Is that so? And you decided to be a good neighbor, is that it?”

  Although he’d expected the older man’s tone, it wasn’t easy keeping a civil tongue in his mouth. “Something like that.”

  “And how do you know I don’t have an agreement with old lady Hampton?”

  Jackson just shook his head. “You and I both know better.”

  Morgan cast him a crooked grin. “Fair enough.”

  Jackson mounted his horse. “I’ll be checking the lines again later today, Morgan. Just in case your men have any problems getting that wire back up.”

  Morgan’s grin fell away, and his look turned icy. “Be careful where you stick your nose, boy.”

  Without a word, Jackson headed toward the old farmhouse to check on Mrs. Hampton. Morgan had a scheme of some sorts in the works, and Mrs. Hampton was the target.

  ****

  “Mrs. Hampton? It’s Jackson Chase,” he said, as he knocked on the door.

  “Go away,” a voice said from behind the closed door. It didn’t sound like Mrs. Hampton, but then he’d not spoken with her for almost two years.

  “Ma’am, I came to tell you that you have a problem with your fencing.”

  She didn’t say anything, but the door opened just a crack. His quick smile fell at the sight of a rifle pointing at his chest.

  A scratchy voice asked, “What about it?”

  He snatched his hat off and held it in his hands, his thumb nervously stroking the brim while his gaze remained riveted on the barrel of the gun. Something was definitely different about the kindly old woman.

  “Um, there’s a break in the fence, ma’am, on Morgan’s side. I’ve already spoken to him about it. He should have his men on it shortly after they round up his cattle.”

  “Fine. You’ve delivered the message, now go away.”

  The door slammed closed, and Jackson took a slow deep breath. Something was off. Mrs. Hampton never spoke to him that way before. It could be she was a bit miffed that he’d not visited before, and he guessed he couldn’t blame her for that. Getting dumped by Brittany had taken a toll on everything, and he was ashamed of himself for letting it rule his life. He’d have to find a way to make things up to Mrs. Hampton.

  And yet, as he rode home, the sound of her voice haunted him. It was more than just being a little put out with him. Was she sick or in some sort of financial trouble? The place did look pretty run down. The porch was half rotten, and the barn was in need of repair. Even her little victory garden was a mess of weeds.

  The more he thought of it, the more he began to realize she’d acted a lot like he did after Brittany left. He’d wanted no one’s pity and no one’s help. But his family and friends had known it was his anger and fear pushing them away, so they just pushed back harder, reminding him of how much he was loved and needed.

  Maybe that was what Mrs. Hampton was going through. Maybe she needed someone to push back, and help her whether she wanted it or not.

  Chapter Two

  Jackson rode the fence line the following day and saw that Morgan’s men had fixed the fence, but the job was shoddy at best and not likely to stay up for more than a few days.

  Prepared for the possibility that it wouldn’t be fixed at all, he grabbed his pack of tools and made sure the fence would stand against the elements. Once done, he rode the remaining line and found nothing out of the ordinary but suspected Morgan wasn’t through with whatever he had planned.

  He rode home first and traded Titan for his truck before going over to Mrs. Hampton’s house. She might need him to run some errands for her in town or something, and this way he would have most of the tools he needed to fix a few things around her place.

  As he pulled up in front of the farm house, he paid closer attention to his surroundings. The ranch was more than a little run down. It didn’t look like anything had been done to the place in a couple of years, which wasn’t like Mrs. Hampton at all. She would hire hands to do things every now and then, to keep the ranch up. Something was wrong, he knew that now, and was determined to find out what.

  He braved her wrath again and knocked.

  “What do you want?” the voice yelled from the other side of the door.

  “I just wanted to let you know that the fence is fixed,” he said.

  There was no sound from inside. He waited for the door to open and a gun barrel to appear, but nothing happened. Taking a deep breath, he let his gaze travel the length of the porch. It had to be a financial situation, or she would have had it repaired. That had to be the reason, which meant she was about to get assistance whether she wanted it or not.

  “And I thought I’d do something about these bad boards here.”

  “Go away!”

  “No ma’am, I can’t do that.”

  “I don’t need your help,” Clare said through the door.

  She had watched him ride up on his horse the day before, figuring he was one of Morgan’s goons, and had grabbed her gun. She wasn’t taking any chances, but once he identified himself, she knew he was probably safe.

  Granny had spoken of the Chase boys on more than one occasion, and although Clare had never met them, she knew Granny had considered them to be “good folks,” as she liked to say. But Clare had been fooled before by handsome, seemingly nice guys, and let him know she wasn’t helpless by any means.

  She hadn’t been prepared for him to return, however, nor how her heart had done a little skip when she’d seem him step
out of the truck.

  “Ma’am, I can’t leave your porch this way in good conscience. You could be seriously hurt,” he said. “Now, I’m going to go in your barn over there and see what I can find to repair it. If you want to shoot me for trespassing, go ahead, but I’m not leaving until this is fixed.” With that, he crossed the yard.

  Stunned, her gun limp in her hands, Clare watched from her hiding place behind the curtains as his long powerful legs ate up the distance to the barn in a matter of seconds.

  Was it possible that he really didn’t want anything from her? All men weren’t unscrupulous. She knew she had just had some really bad luck with the opposite sex, but she couldn’t chance it.

  He reappeared with several boards tucked under one arm and made his way back to the porch. She eased closer to the window and watched him through the lace curtains, her head aching from the conundrum before her. What did he expect to get from her by doing this?

  He stripped out of his denim jacket, exposing a fit body beneath his cotton shirt, then set to work. Regardless of her appreciation of his form, she considered various motives, but nothing made any sense. With the exception of her grandparents, people didn’t generally do things like that without getting something out of it for themselves. And yet here he was, going about his work, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

  Was it possible? Could he just be there to help?

  She shook her head, sickened by how she’d let the past taint everything around her. Yes, there were evil people in the world, but there were good ones too. Maybe it was time to let go of her cynicism and move on. Granny would probably be feeding him cookies by now, she thought with a bittersweet smile.

  Later, while he made another trip to the barn, Clare snuck out onto the porch with a pitcher of water and a chicken salad sandwich. The man had to eat, and so far, he’d done exactly as he said he would. The least she could do was feed him, just as her grandmother would’ve wanted.

  She barely had time to duck back inside before he reappeared. Watching from her hiding place, she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him. No man should be that handsome when he smiled. Not even her ex was that good-looking.