“I lived here. I earned several certificates in viticulture in summer courses in California. When my aunt died last winter I took over the place.”

“You’ve changed your name, and you keep a low profile. What are you hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding. I needed a fresh start after the accident. I didn’t want to be with people who suffered loss and pain because of me. I have no intention of reconnecting with my past or the people I’d known a dozen years ago.”

“Then why not leave? Your aunt is dead.” He nodded toward the new construction. “Looks like you’re putting down roots.”

“It was my aunt’s dream to make wine, and so we cleared ground for a winery and tasting room this past winter. She’d been suffering from cancer, but we thought she had it licked, and clearing the land was our way of celebrating.” Her voice hitched. “And then she suffered an unexpected heart attack at the hospital during routine tests and died.”

“Again, why stay here?”

“This is my home. Bonneville is as much a part of me as I am of it.”

“What do you do here?”

She arched a brow. “You want a rundown?”

“I’d also like a tour of the place.”

“You’ll have to come back another time for the tour, Ranger Bragg. I’ve a horse farrier arriving in about five minutes.”

With or without an excuse, he’d return to Bonneville. “That’s five minutes for a quick overview.”

She shook her head. “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll show it to you. You want to listen to my phone messages in case Rory called me more than I admitted? Want to check my boots for dirt or look in the barn for rope?”

He smiled. “We’ll keep it simple today. Tell me about Bonneville.”

Her lips flattened. “The new tasting room is behind me, but it’s not furnished yet and there’s little to see. The winery won’t be finished until December.”

“Show me all your trucks.”

She cocked a brow but didn’t miss a beat. “You see the one there. It’s ten years old. I use it for general transportation. I’ve three other trucks, but they’re out with the morning crew who are weeding. They break at lunch. If you come back at noon, I can arrange a viewing.”

Pushy and hard-edged, she didn’t resemble the kid in the photograph. Hard not to have sympathy for that kid; however, the woman was a ballbuster.

In no rush, he walked over to the dark pickup and using his phone he photographed each tire. “What if I want the trucks brought in earlier.”

Her gaze narrowed, and he sensed she was gauging if this was worth a fight. “It’ll cost me money to bring in the crew and have them sit while you do whatever it is you do. The crew will be in at noon. I run on a tight budget, Ranger Bragg.”

He didn’t care about her bottom line or her crew. But before he could rebut, a truck pulling a large horse trailer rolled up the hill toward them. Dust billowed around the wheels and coated the already grimy truck with more grime.

Greer shot him a glance. “Give me a minute.”

“Sure.”

She tossed him a wary gaze and headed for the truck.

There was no middle ground for Greer Templeton. Hot or cold. Sad or angry. She acted stunned by the news of Rory’s death, but then she could be one hell of a guilty-as-sin actress.

Chapter Five

Tuesday, June 3, 7 A.M.

Greer could barely breathe as she put one foot in front of the other and walked toward the truck hauling the horse trailer. The Ranger had remained behind but his gaze trailed her like a hungry wolf. Those eyes. Gray. Hard. Penetrating. In those eyes, she’d seen that he’d tried and convicted her like all the others had done over the years.

Her aunt had told her time after time she’d needed to forgive herself. Live your life. Find a man. Have sex. Smile more.

Doubtful a smile would have swayed Bragg. His six-foot-three-inch height and broad shoulders radiated substantial power and a total absence of tenderness. His warrior energy didn’t threaten danger but promised it.

Smile. Don’t let him see you sweat.

Right.

She’d tried smiling after the accident, hoping to soothe her parents’ grief, neighbors’ questioning stares, and finally the judge’s final opinion. But smiling hadn’t worked. No matter how nice she was or how much she tried to atone for her sins, no one ever looked at her the same again.

And so she’d stopped smiling, choosing instead to come out swinging. Might as well cut to the chase, air the suspicions, and accept the inevitable rejection.

She nodded to the farrier. “Mac, thanks for driving up here today. I know we’re a bit out of your way.”

White hair and a handlebar mustache accentuated the farrier’s tanned, deeply wrinkled skin weathered by sixty-plus years of harsh Texas sun. He wore a long-sleeved cotton shirt, jeans, and a battered cowboy hat. “For the life of me I don’t know why you want to get into the horse business, Ms. Templeton. You’ll be tossing good money after bad feeding these old nags. I don’t want to think about the vet bill.”

“Oh, so that’s why they were free?” She might not smile, but she could still tease.

Muttering, he climbed out of the truck. “The fella that gave you these horses is doing a jig right now. You’ve saved him the cost of burying these old gals in the next year or so.”

Mac unlatched the back door and standing in the trailer were two old mares, both sway back with knobby knees. One was a brown-and-white dapple and the other black except for a patch of white on her nose. The dapple was still and quiet, but the black horse swished her tail, as if to tell Greer she didn’t appreciate the change in routine or the journey.

“I’ve a temporary corral set up for them next to the main house. Got a man coming today to work on expanding it so these gals should be sitting pretty by the end of the week.”

He pulled out the ramp, opened the door, and led the dapple out. Her ears twitched as she glared at Greer. Whereas Greer didn’t have much interest in people, her heart always went out to animals. They were all about the here and now, and if you were good to them, they loved you with no reservations.

“Hey, old lady. How you doing?” She rubbed the horse’s snout. The other horse stomped its foot. “Your friend has a bit of attitude.”

“A bad attitude,” Mac said as he led the black horse out. “She’ll kick and bite if you don’t keep an eye on her.”

Kind of like me. “Did the farmer send feed like he promised?”

“In the back of the truck.” He handed the reins of the second horse to Greer.

The black horse snorted.

Greer couldn’t resist a smile. “Don’t worry, old lady, we’re gonna do just fine. I bet before summer’s end the vineyard guests will be spoiling you rotten.”

Like any vineyard, Bonneville’s survival depended on many factors beyond growing grapes. One of the reasons she’d built the tasting room was to earn income from hosting weddings, festivals, and tastings. It was about marketing. It would be a year or two before she held actual Bonneville wine tastings, but the facility itself was already booked for several events this fall. Perhaps the horse rescue would also add a hook that would draw customers.

She met Mac’s gaze as he came around toward her. “Do I owe you any money?”

“Nope, the seller paid all as agreed. But if you change your mind right now, I’d run these two back to where they came from, and you can just forget all this foolishness.”

The dapple horse nudged her shoulder and snorted. The black horse ignored her. “No, the girls are staying with me.”

Laughing, he shook his head. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She rubbed the dapple on the snout. “I’ve been duly warned.”

“Well, I always did like your aunt Lydia. She was good to me, always treated me with respect. Was real sorry to hear she passed this winter. Always good and fair.” He cleared his throat as if emotion got the better of him.