Ghost mountain ranch, p.1
Ghost Mountain Ranch, page 1
Ghost Mountain Ranch
Jan Scarbrough
Saddle Horse Press, LLC
Copyright © 2023 Jan Scarbrough
Scarbrough, Jan
Ghost Mountain Ranch
Media > Books > Fiction > Romance Novels
Category/Tags: romance, contemporary, western romance novels, second chance at love, rancher romance, Montana, family, later in life, mystery, cowboys, radical resistance group, cowboy mystery, ghosts of the past
Digital ISBN: 978-1-7343714-7-5
1st Digital release: January, 2023
Edited By: Karen Block
Cover Design By: The Killion Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
This edition is published by agreement with Saddle Horse Press LLC, PO Box 221543, Louisville, KY 40252.
Contents
Introduction
Darby
Jan Scarbrough
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Slade
Jan Scarbrougn
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Kelsey
Jan Scarbrough
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Dawsons of Montana
The Bluegrass Reunion Series
Kentucky Blue Bloods-Chapter One
About the Author
Thank you!
Introduction
Darby
Thirty years ago, torn by shock and guilt over the death of her mother, Darby York fled the dude ranch where she’d grown up in Montana. In her new life in the bluegrass of Kentucky, she’d become a horse groom, an artist, married a wealthy Thoroughbred owner, raised twins, and been widowed. But now, with word her father is growing feeble, Darby has to finally face the truth: no matter how far you run, the past has a way of catching up. Her father hadn’t been the only man Darby had left behind. Would the boyfriend she’d abandoned still be there?
Hank Slade, wrangler at Ghost Mountain Ranch, has never stopped carrying the torch for Darby. Her vibrant red hair may be tinged with gray now, but the natural, unsophisticated look about her remains—a look that speaks of home and comfort to Hank. But is he willing to risk his heart with Darby again?
What is the truth behind the death of Darby’s mother? When the past once again intrudes on the present, will Darby do what she’s always done—what her mother did—and run away? Grief and secrets had torn Darby and Hank apart once. Given a second chance at love, will the revelation of more shocking secrets from the past destroy their hopes for the future?
* * *
Slade
Slade Heston has been around horses his whole life. But growing up as a “rich” boy in Kentucky Bluegrass country is nothing like spending the summer as a hired hand at a Montana dude ranch with his mother, Darby, and the grandfather he never knew. A Western saddle, complete with saddlebags, doesn’t make him a genuine cowboy. Unlike his twin sister, with her perfectly planned life, Slade’s still trying to figure it all out. What he never expected was his attraction to a pretty visiting writer.
The white-capped mountains of Ghost Mountain Ranch are a far cry from the urban cityscape of Chicago where reporter Laurie Chastain comes from. She’s supposed to write stories to encourage more guests to visit the dude ranch, but Laurie has secret reasons of her own for taking the demeaning job in this godforsaken land. Had her grandfather really been a bomb-builder for a radical resistance group in the 1970s? What did the mysterious leader of the group have to do with it? Laurie’s only clue has led her to Ghost Mountain. She can’t afford the distraction of a broad-shouldered and entirely too-sexy man in a cowboy hat.
Someone knows the truth about the part Ghost Mountain Ranch played in Laurie’s life, and the terrible consequences of that past. But when the ghosts of the past threaten the lives of the living, will their growing attraction be enough to protect Slade and Laurie?
Slade’s always kept his feelings closed off, but can he open his heart to love under the wide-open skies of Montana before it’s too late?
* * *
Kelsey
Kelsey Heston is more than just a pretty face. There’s a whip-smart brain behind those model-beautiful looks. She’s been running the family’s Kentucky horse farm, but now plans to use those brains to improve the tourist trade at her grandfather’s Montana dude ranch. But tangled accounting books aren’t the only complication Kelsey has to deal with. What is her old college sweetheart, Max Lee, doing here? The man who’d broken her heart when he’d put family duty before her. Had Kelsey made a mistake coming to Ghost Mountain Ranch?
Chicago lawyer Max Lee has always done what was expected of him. He’d gone to law school, worked at the same firm as his father, and married the law partner’s daughter, just as it had been planned since their childhood. His only aberration had been his beautiful college sweetheart, the girl he’d dropped to follow his family expectations. But after the sudden death of Max’s wife, his father-in-law makes one more request of Max: go to Ghost Mountain Ranch to find his long-lost sister. But his search for one woman turns up another he’d never expected to see again, maybe the only woman he’d ever truly loved.
But something dark is happening at Ghost Mountain Ranch, where the past is reaching out in dangerous ways to haunt the living. Max is not only stirring up old feelings in Kelsey, but old secrets of the ranch’s inhabitants. Secrets someone might be willing to kill to keep. Can they finally lay the old ghosts to rest, or will the echoes of a decades-old murder destroy their second chance at love?
Darby
Jan Scarbrough
Copyright © 2020 Jan Scarbrough
Scarbrough, Jan
Darby
Media > Books > Fiction > Romance Novels
Category/Tags: western romance novels, second chance at love romance, contemporary romance, rancher romance, Montana, family, later in life
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9992474-5-7
1st Digital release: June, 2020
Edited By: Karen Block
Cover Design By: The Killion Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
This edition is published by agreement with Saddle Horse Press, PO Box 221543, Louisville, KY 40252.
Created with Vellum
Chapter One
February 1971
He was dead.
She ran her index-finger over the black ink newsprint, reading slowly. The police officer had been on duty near the window. When the bomb blew, inch-long, industrial fence staples shattered the window and pierced the man’s neck. He was dead by the time the ambulance arrived.
It had been raining that night. Steady and cold. She’d huddled in the driver’s seat parked down the street. Placing one hand on her pregnant belly and the other clutching the pendant around her neck, she had told herself she was still good for something—smart en
“Let’s go, honey,” he’d said when he jumped in the passenger side.
She’d driven away slowly so not to draw attention.
Over the past month, she’d made Molotov cocktails for them. She’d filled glass bottles with gasoline, inserted a cloth into each mouth to be lit by a firecracker. The members who were not hampered by the extra weight of pregnancy had tossed the firebombs setting an army recruitment office on fire and torching a tree in the police chief’s front lawn. They’d called it a success, but last night, they’d upped the game.
And now a man was dead.
But they had wanted to kill more of them. The bomb detonated fifteen minutes early. If not, it would have exploded during shift change. More would have died. As it was, they’d made an important statement. They were revolutionaries.
Last night’s action had showed the others, the intellectual snobs who had purged them from the original group. They weren’t good enough for the main faction—too undependable, not brave enough, too weak. But they had showed them. They would read about their success in the newspaper and hear about it on the radio. Those snobs would know they hadn’t been the ones to strike first for the Movement. They had. The People, the outcasts, the ones who didn’t count. Power to the People!
They called themselves The People because they were a family—men and women—held together by love and sex, a commitment not only to the revolution, but to themselves. Some of them already had children. Just like she would have soon, a new life to grow up in a new country. They had gone underground, living under assumed identities. Who would question a man walking down the street with his pregnant wife? Who would think a family with children was out to change the world?
That’s what set them apart from the others—being a family. Loving each other. They were loyal to themselves first and then to the cause. They’d all been screwed by society. When they succeeded, things would change. The streets would run with blood like it had in Cuba. No longer would America be a place for the rich. The little man would have his say and his woman would be right by his side.
If it took the death of a policeman, so be it.
Chapter Two
February 2019
The Heston Breeding Farm
Near Lexington, Kentucky
The female reporter was too near, peering over Darby’s left shoulder, judging each brush stroke. “You’re quite good.”
Darby York angled her body, subconsciously to shield her work from prying eyes. An oil painting of a mare and foal took shape on the canvas in front of her. She clutched a collection of long brushes in her left hand, each tipped with its separate color combination, and with her right hand, she stroked the canvas with a dab of burnt sienna.
“What is your name again?” Darby had age on this young woman. She wasn’t going to let herself be intimidated.
“Laurel Chastain. Most people call me Laurie.”
“Well, Laurie, oddly enough, I’ve had quite a bit of success here in Kentucky and among a certain horsey-set nationwide.”
“You must so love what you do,” Laurie said, “especially in this beautiful place.”
“It’s my passion.” A solitary passion between her and the subject on canvas—an oil painting of a Thoroughbred or an American Saddlebred horse that comprised most of her commissions. In fact, the whole creative process was relaxing, meditative. Yet, it was more than a passion. It was Darby’s life. “I always sketched. My husband encouraged me to do more. Col sent me to art classes. He supported me. In fact, he built this studio for me almost twenty years ago when my small children got on my nerves so badly, I couldn’t concentrate in the house. Now I regret separating myself from the children, but at the time I needed the quiet, the space.”
In fact, Colton Heston always had more faith in Darby’s ability than she did. “You’ve got a gift, darling,” he’d say. “You should be proud of it. Exhibit your work.”
But Darby had always demurred. She didn’t quite believe in her talent. Even now. Even after agreeing to this interview with a magazine reporter.
Laurie turned away from the easel and canvas to survey the framed oils and watercolors hanging on the walls of the one-room studio. “And I understand your husband was twenty years your senior.”
Although winter sunshine streamed through the studio window, throwing points of light across the hardwood floor, and a cheery fire blazed in the stone fireplace, Darby felt cold. Her sanctuary had been violated. Her life. She swallowed hard and studied the reporter.
“Twenty-four years my senior to be exact,” Darby said using a sarcastic inflection. Col had understood her. Her husband had loved her more deeply than she’d deserved. For that Darby was thankful—for that and so much more.
Laurie glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “That’s right.”
Why did Darby feel the woman had done her research a little too well? Maybe some sixth sense told her. Or maybe she was too sensitive about criticism as her daughter Kelsey often pointed out.
“Why horses?” The questions continued. “Aside from the fact your husband has owned winning racehorses and you live on a horse farm in Kentucky.”
“I grew up with horses, back in Montana.” Darby removed her glasses from the bridge of her nose and twisted to get a better view of the reporter. “I never get tired of painting them. There’s something about the touch, the smell, the feel of a horse that tells me I belong with them. Almost like my lifeline. I was so lucky to marry a man who had the same horse enthusiasm.”
“A man who made it possible for you to follow your dream.” Laurie’s words seemed an indictment more than a statement.
“Well, yes.” That was a funny way of putting things. Strange funny. Darby had never thought of her life in that way. It didn’t seem to her as if her dreams had come true. Far from it, she felt she had only coped in the best way she could.
“So, do you paint from photos all the time? You have perfect subjects outside your back door.”
Darby’s tension eased a bit. Maybe Laurie really was interested in her art, not her life. “Sketching live subjects and then balancing the sketches with a photograph or two seems to work well for me. I draw with pencil, then do preliminary paintings in watercolor to get to know my subject before I even put oil paint on canvas.”
Laurie nodded and wandered to the back of the studio. Ten paintings of various sizes stood propped on easels. These were the painting for Darby’s upcoming show called “Women with Horses.”
The reporter studied the oils for a moment, then asked the obvious, “Why women and horses?”
“Why not?” The answer was flippant, but the subject seemed a no-brainer to Darby. “For centuries, women have loved horses. It seems a natural combination for a woman painter to explore.”
