'I'm sure if she says she's one of our guests, she is. Where else could she have come from?'
Exactly, J.T. thought. How many times had he speculated on that very same question?
'I'm just glad she wasn't harmed in that nasty storm,' Hugh said, concern evident in his voice.
'She's just fine,' J.T. reassured him. 'So don't worry about her.'
There was a pause on Hugh's end of the line, then, 'If the bridge is out, how the hell did she get on Rafferty property?'
'She crossed the bridge before it was damaged.'
Hugh swore. 'No kidding?'
'That's what she claims.'
Hugh released an abrupt laugh. 'Stranger things have happened. In this business you learn to expect the unexpected.'
Randal moved toward J.T.'s desk, fury contorting his features. 'I called and they confirmed that she's not a guest!' he said in a burst of anger. 'She's a fraud, I'm telling you.'
J.T. stared at Randal. The injustice and rage in Randal's gaze spurred him to follow up on his cousin's accusation, if only to appease Randal. Caitlan's chin had lifted indignantly at Randal's slur, which gave J.T. a slight reassurance that her claim was fact, not fiction. Still, a sense of suspicion lingered.
'Hugh, Randal called earlier and talked to the registration clerk. Jason told him there wasn't a Caitlan Daniels registered there.'
'With the computers being down, there's no way to know that for certain,' Hugh replied. 'Jason's a new guy, and everything's been so hectic around here. One little sleet storm and everything falls to sh-'
'Thanks for your help, Hugh,' J.T. interrupted the man's tirade, more concerned with Randal's increasing temper.
'It won't be a problem if she stays at the ranch until everything gets halfway back to normal, will it?' Hugh asked hopefully. 'We're looking into chartering a helicopter to transport food and supplies in and out, but until the bridge is repaired, the fewer people I have here to get in the way, the better.'
'It's not a problem, Hugh. We'll keep in touch.'
J.T. hung up the phone and looked at Randal. 'The computers at Parson's are down, but Hugh seems to think she's more than likely a guest there.' What other explanation could there be?
'She's lying!' Randal said through gritted teeth.
J.T. glanced at Caitlan, searching for the perfidious woman Randal claimed her to be. All he saw was the caring woman who'd saved him from death. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly tired of doubting her motives. 'Caitlan's given me no reason to believe she's lying.'
Randal's nostrils flared; then he spun around and glared at Caitlan. Without a word he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. J.T. winced as the sharp sound reverberated through his aching head like a cannon shot.
'I'm sorry.' Caitlan's soft voice drifted over J.T. like a balm. 'I didn't mean to cause trouble.'
J.T. released a long, controlled breath. 'No, I should be the one apologizing. I don't know what Randal's problem is.' Letting loose a dry laugh, he plowed his fingers through his hair in an agitated movement. 'Hell, who am I foolin'? I know exactly what his problem is. Too much booze and too many obligations and debts dumped on him by his old man. I guess I'd be pretty strung out if I were in his shoes.'
'He's had a rough life?'
'Yeah, you could say that.'
'Want to talk about it?' Her silky voice could have coaxed a confession from the devil himself.
Dropping into his leather chair, J.T. scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. He figured he owed Caitlan the truth after everything Randal had put her through in the short time she'd been at the ranch. Maybe if he explained, she'd better understand his cousin's resentment and bitterness. And maybe if he talked to Caitlan he could work out some of his own frustration over the situation. 'You sure you wanna hear this?'
An encouraging smile on her lips, she lowered herself into the chair in front of his desk. 'I've been told I'm a good listener.'
And that's exactly what he needed right now, besides an aspirin for the splitting headache spawned by Randal's abuse with the door. J.T. leaned back in his chair. 'My Uncle Boyd, Randal's father, never did care for ranching life. He was always looking for an easy investment. When some guy from town offered him a copper mine sure to produce millions, Uncle Boyd sold his portion of this ranch to my father, Jared.'
'How long ago was that?'
J.T. thought for a moment, a little surprised to realize just how long ago the trouble had actually started. 'About fourteen years ago.' He pressed his index finger to the throb in his temple and the pain eased.
'So what happened?' she asked, genuine interest in her voice.
'Uncle Boyd sank every penny he had into his mine, but he couldn't produce enough copper to stay afloat. The mine played out after a few years, and Uncle Boyd lost everything.'
'Everything?'
'Yep. His house, his truck, his wife-'
'His wife?' She frowned, her smooth brows furrowing over violet eyes. 'Did she die?'
'No. Aunt Gina left Uncle Boyd after he went bankrupt.'
Caitlan straightened in her chair, contempt flaring in her gaze. 'She should have stayed by his side-'
'She probably would have if Uncle Boyd hadn't been abusing her.'
Caitlan sucked in an audible breath. The spark in her eyes mellowed to sympathy. 'That's horrible. Why would he do such a thing?'
'My best guess would be so he'd feel like a man. After Uncle Boyd lost everything he had no choice but to tuck his tail between his legs, swallow his pride, and come to work for my father on a ranch that had once been half his. He was hard to get along with, always drunk and taking his anger out on the livestock and anything and anyone who'd take it.'
'And your father allowed him to continue working on the ranch?'
J.T. picked up a gold-plated letter opener from his desk and slid his fingers along the smooth surface, remembering all the tension and arguments between his father and Uncle Boyd, and his dad's answer when J.T. had asked him a question similar to Caitlan's. Jared had slapped him on the back and looked him straight in the eye, saying, 'You never turn your back on family, son. Someday it might be you who needs a helping hand.'
Tossing the letter opener back onto the blotter, he met Caitlan's inquisitive gaze. 'Uncle Boyd was family, Caitlan. My father's brother. He had no one and nowhere to go. The Raffertys are a loyal bunch. We take care of our own. I guess that's why I put up with Randal.'
Caitlan rubbed her thumb along the leather arm of her chair, head tilted curiously to the side. 'But what does Randal have to be so angry about?'
J.T. smiled sadly. 'When my father died two years ago I inherited the ranch. Rightfully, half should have belonged to Randal, but since Uncle Boyd sold his half to my father, Randal got nothing. Two months ago my uncle committed suicide and left Randal a mountain of debts as his inheritance. I really can't blame Randal for being resentful. Uncle Boyd wasn't the easiest man to live with, and he never should have sold his portion of the ranch to invest in something as chancy as a copper mine.
'The least I can do is try and help Randal out. I pay him well as a hand, he has his own cabin to live in, and I'm helping to pay off his father's debts. I'm hoping in time he'll come around. Things have been difficult for Randal since Uncle Boyd died.'
A hint of a smile touched the comers of Caitlan's mouth. 'You mean Randal used to be a nice guy?'
J.T. chuckled, unable to miss the dry humor in Caitlan's tone. 'Not in the traditional sense. He's always been short-tempered and extremely competitive, especially with me.' He shrugged. 'I've grown used to it.'
'He's lucky to have you for a cousin. I don't think anyone else would put up with his temper.'
'Like I said, he's family. I'll do what I can to help him.' J.T. sat up, deciding he'd revealed enough family secrets for one evening. Putting away the ledger, he shuffled some papers on his desk into a neat pile. He hadn't meant to go on and on, but Caitlan had been so easy to talk to. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such an unreserved conversation with a woman, without the pretense of something more.
He glanced up and found her studying him intently. Growing increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he asked, 'What's the matter?'
