The Rancher’s Redemption: Book 3 in The Return of the Blackwell Brothers series
His family committed a terrible wrong. Ben Blackwell wants to make it right.
The last time Ben saw Rachel Thompson was when her best friend left him at the altar. Now Rachel’s suing the Blackwells over river water rights. Rachel’s a triple threat—rancher, fellow attorney and single mom—and Ben’s plan to win in court hits a snag when mutual attraction blooms. If he divulges a long-held secret, will his family forgive him? Will Rachel?
Excerpt:
Never look back.
That’s what Ben Blackwell’s grandfather, Big E, always said.
Back when they used to talk. Back before Big E eloped with Ben’s fiancée. Back before Ben left trail dust and boots and Montana for New York City.
And now, Ben was doing more than looking back, he’d gone back. Back home to the Blackwell Ranch in Montana, which used to be a cattle ranch, but was now also a dude ranch.
“Big E wants us to call it a guest ranch,” his grandfather’s housekeeper had corrected Ben when he’d muttered something about dudes at breakfast.
Ben got out of his Mercedes and buttoned his suit jacket. Frank Gardner quit sweeping the Brewster Ranch Supply porch to get a good look at the city slicker. Annie Harper slammed too hard on her truck brakes as she pulled up to the stop sign, gaze ping-ponging between Ben and the intersection. Rachel Thompson opened the door to her law office, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him.
“Welcome home,” Ben muttered, walking around a knee-high weed bending over the sidewalk leading to Rachel’s steps.
“Late, as usual.” Rachel disappeared inside her office, which used to be the insurance building where Big E did business. The other interior office door was closed.
Ben followed Rachel inside, noting the dust and vacancy at the receptionist’s desk, the jarring faux zebra waiting room theme, and the echo of his footsteps in a near-empty building. He could relate. Lately, he’d felt empty too. “Are you a one-person show? I thought the name of the law firm was Calder & Associates.”
“Joe Calder died last spring.” Rachel settled behind a large oak desk with a clean blotter and two neat, low stacks of paper, all the signs of a struggling lawyer with too few clients. “Joe left me the practice.”
Looked like he hadn’t done her any favors.
Ben dusted off the seat of a chair across from her before he sat down, but his gaze never really left Rachel.
They’d known each other since kindergarten, both raised as ranch kids on bordering properties. He’d targeted her in dodgeball in the fifth grade because she wasn’t much of an athlete beyond being able to ride. She’d asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance in the seventh grade, but they’d both been awkward about it, because what did you do with the opposite sex when you were thirteen anyway? He’d dated her best friend, Zoe Petit, in high school.
Back in the day, Rachel and Zoe were always over-dressed and over-critical of their peers. Not that Ben had minded them being high maintenance when he was younger, since they’d maintained a watchful eye on his back, which was more than he could say about his own family. When Ben and Zoe got engaged, Rachel was supposed to be their maid of honor, standing up at the altar, smiling serenely and holding Zoe’s bouquet while the preacher said his words. Instead, Rachel had stood up to Ben with a barely contained smile, and told him Zoe had run off with a wealthier Blackwell–Ben’s grandfather.
Today, Rachel wasn’t so put-together. She’d straightened her hair, but missed a long blond lock on the side. The eyeliner beneath her left eye was heavier than the line beneath her right. And the pink blouse beneath her navy suit jacket was wrinkled with a stain near the neckline. He wasn’t so principled that he didn’t take a little pleasure in seeing how far the mighty had fallen.
“Lookin’ good, Rach.” He gave her a peacemaking smile and reached across the desk to shake her hand. Behind her on the credenza was a picture of a baby, a cute one as babies went. Round face, big blue eyes, a thatch of blond hair. “Is that another one of your sister’s babies?”
“Still the charmer, I see.” Rachel’s fingers were small and cold. They convulsed around Ben’s hand before she drew back, rubbing her palm over her skirt as if he had germs.
No surprise there. The Blackwells and the Thompsons were about as friendly as the Hatfields and the McCoys.
Ben flattened his smile out of existence. Best get to the point. “I hear there’s an issue over water rights.” That’s why he’d returned to Falcon Creek. At his brother’s urging, not his grandfather’s. Big E had apparently gone on walkabout in his thirty-foot mobile home and wasn’t taking calls. Ben and Big E had negotiated the water rights out from under the Double T eight years ago, a slick piece of legal wrangling that should be iron-clad.
“The Double T has decided it’s time to revisit your rights.” Rachel opened a thin manila folder. “I’ve done some research with the water district and it appears the Blackwell Ranch hasn’t been using their allotment of water, which–as you know–means the claimant with secondary rights can divert river water. And the ranch with second rights–as you know–is the Double T.”
She’d done research? Ben was surprised, but not worried. This was Rachel Thompson. She used to copy off his test in Mrs. Whitecloud’s science class. He’d practiced law in New York City. Rachel had only ever practiced in Falcon Creek. And she thought she could break the deal Ben had drawn up? Not on her best day.
“Send your information to the ranch and we’ll talk,” he said.
“I’ll give you the stats the water district provided me and a new contract.” She handed him a thin manilla folder.
“Why do we need a new contract if it involves river rights and not the aquifer?” The existing contract covered rights to the underground water reservoir, not Falcon Creek. If this meeting had been held in New York, Ben would’ve suspected he was being set up. But this was Falcon Creek and Rachel Thompson. “Aquifer water rights aren’t under discussion.”
Her smile contradicted the wrinkled blouse and frizzy lock of hair. “We’d like to bring them into the conversation.”
She couldn’t. Not without the proper legal documentation. And Ben knew there was no way she could get her hands on that piece of paper. Big E may be the worst grandparent on the planet, but he was one of the best businessmen Ben knew. The proof Rachel needed to revert the underground water rights was in Big E’s safe.
He’d tell Ethan this was nothing serious. He’d be home in New York by next weekend.
And he’d never look back.
The Story Behind the Story
When I first had the idea of writing a multi-author continuity for Harlequin, I gather my writing friends together and we brainstormed ideas. But I always knew I wanted to write about a cowboy turned New Yorker who had done someone wrong back home in Falcon Creek. Ben Blackwell has some explaining to do! Along with some groveling. And perhaps to realize he was with the wrong girl all those years ago.
I used to own a horse. Misty was young (only 7) when I got her. She was as gentle as a kitten when I was on the ground, but she really needed to run once you climbed into the saddle. I ate dirt more that first summer than I had ever done before. Every horse I write has a little bit of Misty. And you’ll notice that I often have my riders take a tumble.
Learn More About The Blackwell Series HERE.
