Sagebrush Cinderella

SAGEBRUSH CINDERELLA

Copyright, Louise Crawford and Ramona Butler, 2011

Smashwords Edition ISBN 978-1-4661-6756-8

Cover art by Jiselle Crawford

For other books by Crawford and/or Butler: http://www.LouiseCrawfordbooks.com or http://www.LFCrawford.com or http://www.RamonaButler.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted to any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, 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.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

Chapter One

What the heck? Those aren’t-

Gawking at the dust cloud ahead -- and the tall lumbering animal caught in the middle -- Zack Daniels missed the curve in the narrow, two-lane road, careened off the asphalt and sank hubcap deep in the sandy shoulder, startled but unhurt.

A camel? Not bloody likely! He jumped from the truck and stared in disbelief at the long-legged, ungainly beast strutting inside the fence that marked the edge of the best rangeland in Nevada, Daniels land, his land. Cattle land.

A mirage? He scrubbed tired eyes with his knuckles, then looked again.

Nope, still there. Maybe it was an escapee from the camels brought in each year for the Crazy Critters races in Virginia City. But way out here?

This wasn't the welcoming committee he’d envisioned, not by a long shot. Almost home after a seemingly endless drive from Colorado, he half expected the grotesque creature to disappear with each blink of his eyelids. Instead, he watched it swagger out of sight. Everything else looked familiar, the sharp rise of the Pine Nut Mountains, the sparkle of spring run-off in the nearby Carson River, the distant peaks of the Sierra Nevada -- everything except that shaggy, humped beast.

Digging the truck out of the sand pit took twenty minutes and left Zack sweat-drenched and irritable and still reeling from the unexpected glimpse of that camel. It made a mockery of his triumphant return from college.

Sheepskin diploma in hand, rewarding position secured, his engagement to Yvonne still too new to seem real, he anticipated that Clay, his older brother, would be suitably impressed. Zack Daniels, the wildcard in the family, had done good, and was now ready to settle into matrimony and a corporate environment.

Savoring the thought of his brother’s surprise, he swung through the gate of the ranch. A tan mailbox, shaped like a one-humped, four-legged sand dune, brought him up short. Zack cranked the wheel, scraped past, and shook his head. Another camel mirage?

No, a quirk of brain drain, that's all.

Or perhaps he'd pulled into the wrong gravel driveway.

But a second mailbox, standard rural design of gunmetal gray, the Daniels name lettered in black, stood sedately next to the first, looking embarrassed to be there.

He hadn’t come home this whole last year -- too much happening in his final year at college. Now, uneasiness filled him. He swung his gaze from the ridiculous mailbox to the sprawling ranch house, to the new outbuildings beyond. Nothing here looked the same. New pens. New corrals. Shock ran through him as he spied a second awkward, galumphing, one-humped creature lazing in the latter.

Two camels! He hadn't been hallucinating. Clay must have lost his ever-lovin’ mi–

Zack stomped on his brake as the biggest, big-horned, short-legged mountain he'd ever seen trotted into the road directly in front of him.

A water buffalo? In Nevada? Sweet jumpin’ jackrabbits, what next? It wasn’t his brother who’d lost his mind, it was Zack Daniels, Stagecoach’s newest candidate for a strait-jacket.

Heart thumping like he’d run a marathon, Zack shook his head to erase the sight. It didn’t waver. The animal thudded out of sight as a black horse flashed by in hot pursuit, churning up a cyclone of dust, obscuring the rider.

*****

On horseback, riding at a full gallop, her long hair blowing in her face, Joy Littlebear spared the dusty pickup only a glance, concentrating instead on her escapee -- the stubborn beast! A person would think that with a name like Daisy, the water buffalo would be sweet-tempered and easy to handle.

Wrong! Dear ol' Daisy had just trampled another fence, the second this week. The big klutz was playing fast and loose with Joy’s non-existent profit margin. The animal waddled along at a determined trot, a gait so laughable Joy couldn’t sum up any real anger.

She swung her rope, the loop snaking out and dropping around Daisy’s heavy horns. Right on the money. Now if she could keep the big moocher moving in the right direction, back toward her newly battered pen.

Over her shoulder, Joy saw the driver of the pickup jump from the cab, but the swirl of dirt blocked her view. Poor guy. A water buffalo wasn't exactly the kind of animal folks expected to encounter on the high desert. Maybe she should stop, go back and--

No, with a ton of water buffalo on the end of her rope, she’d best just keep moving. She’d go by the house later and apologize. She’d planned to drop by the main house anyway because Zack was due-

Oh no! Had that been Zack?

She glanced back once again, saw a shock of dark hair and the confident cowboy gait she’d recognize anywhere. He was striding toward the front door, muttering to himself.

Well, she’d wanted to make an impression. Guess she’d done that, all right.

*****

Camels? A water Buffalo? Outbuildings painted up like oversized Dalmatians? Zack halted, then turned in a full circle as he took in the whole panorama. What the hell had happened to the ranch he remembered? This had to be a nightmare. Or maybe, as he'd thought earlier, he truly was at the wrong place -- no matter what the mailbox said.

But the house was the one he remembered. Home. He’d seen it built, board by board, stone by stone, even helped a bit. Of course, Clay had suffered a whole slew of flat tires because of all the nails kid brother Zack dribbled in the driveway.

He was still gaping at the other changes when the front door swung open. Hey there, Zack. You’re early. Clay tromped down the steps of the front porch, his face splashed with a broad grin. That, too, was new, a nice change. Marriage obviously agreed with him. We didn’t expect you until supper time, boy.

You know me, Lead Foot Daniels. I would've been here sooner but there was this old couple broke down outside of Winnemucca. Took me a few minutes to get them back on the road, Zack said, still a bit dazed by his brain’s rapid zigzag between the familiar and the drastically different. The ancient Jeep with its faded paint job, parked next to Clay’s new truck, fell into the familiar category. It belonged to their nearest neighbors, the Littlebears. Hey, is Rafe here? He hadn’t seen his high school buddy in over a year.

Rafe? Oh, because of the Jeep. No, not yet, but he hasn’t forgotten your homecoming. He’ll be here as soon as he can shake loose from L.A. Don’t hold your breath, though, he’s busier than ants at a picnic these days. Seems stuntmen are in high demand.

With all the action movies being made it was a wonder Rafe wasn’t dead or crippled by now, Zack thought, looking forward to seeing his buddy. So, how come the Jeep's here? You buy the old dinosaur for LoriAnn?

No way. An uncharacteristic chuckle preceded his next words. She drives the Caddy.

Before meeting LoriAnn, the Cadillac had been Clay's pride and joy, always parked in the garage and kept shining like new. But as Zack was well aware, LoriAnn had displaced that chunk of mere machinery in Clay's heart, bumped the classy vehicle way down the ladder of his affection.

Zack forgot what they were talking about -- blind-sided by a distant glimpse of a trim, feminine form atop a sleek stallion. Who the heck is that?

His brother's quick bark of laughter could probably be heard all the way to Carson City. Close your mouth, son, you’ll catch flies. That’s Joy Littlebear.

You’ve got to be joking. Zack couldn’t stop staring, Joy Littlebear had shadowed him since she was old enough to walk, driven him crazy all through school, always a pest.

His breath hitched as he watched her race through the open gate, twist in the saddle, lean down and flip the latch. With long, lustrous, midnight hair and supple curves, this grown-up Joy had everything it took to make a fellow sit up and take notice.

Look but don’t touch, Daniels. This fellow is promised, he reminded himself. Newly engaged. Which was the reason for this trip to Nevada -- to make the important announcement to his brother.

Clay was still grinning as he led the way into the house. You’re not the only one who sprouted and matured, little brother.

Thirty minutes later, showered and changed into well-worn jeans, Zack stood in the center of his old room, suitcase on the bed, open but only half-emptied. The rest of his unpacking could wait. He needed to walk the land, feast his eyes on Daniels cattle -- true cattle, not those godawful, smelly camels. Where had those two ugly beasts come from anyway?

And the more disquieting question, what were they doing on the 3-D?

And what about that darn water buffalo? Must be a fence down somewhere. But who in this neck of thirsty western Nevada was crazy enough to have a water buffalo? He’d have to check around, get those animals off Daniels land and back to wherever they belonged -- cause they sure as heck didn’t belong here.

So explain the mailbox, his inner voice nagged.

Unable to come up with any rational explanation, he headed outside, pausing to glance into the living room. The massive river-rock fireplace had a charred log on the grate and several new photographs -- from Clay and LoriAnn’s wedding -- on the mantel. There were women’s magazines, a skein of baby blue yarn, and a delicate-looking teacup on the new coffee table, a lacy-looking afghan tossed over the back of his favorite chair.

Sheesh. He was almost afraid to check out the rest of the place. He’d expected that wonderfully warm feeling of coming home, but instead he felt out of place and out of sync.

And rankled.

So many changes. Too many to take in all at once.

He tromped through the kitchen and out the back door. The place looked deserted, not a wrangler in sight. No wonder there was a fence down and strange animals wandering the place.

What’s the scowl for? Clay called, stepping from the barn, his tone light.

Just trying to take in the changes, Zack muttered, somewhat irked by his brother’s good humor. Serious as a big city judge in the past, Clay looked way too relaxed, his new laid-back attitude no doubt due to LoriAnn, his beautiful wife, who suddenly appeared behind him, looking rumpled and just-kissed, her green eyes dreamy, bits of straw caught in her wild red hair.

Zack’s gaze dropped to her basketball stomach. Sheesh, Clay had said she was pregnant -- but not that pregnant.

It’s a boy, Clay boasted, sounding proud and well-satisfied.

A big boy, LoriAnn added with a warm chuckle. For a moment the two seemed to forget Zack's presence, their eyes only for each other. He felt a stab of envy, and thought of telling Clay right then about Yvonne, the engagement, and his soon-to-be executive standing with Worldwide Mining. But the barnyard didn't seem quite the right place -- Yvonne and barnyards simply didn't go together. He would wait, break out a bottle of champagne and make the announcement with all the pomp and ceremony it deserved.