To Trust a Rancher Read online

  Discover the Made in Montana miniseries—where all your cowboy dreams come true!

  Seven years ago, a vicious lie drove Becca Hartman to run away from Blackfoot Falls, Montana, with her best friend, Amy. Now the truth has finally brought Becca home...with Amy’s little boy in tow. Becca’s raised Noah as her own, so watching Noah meet his family—including Becca’s old crush, rancher Ryder Mitchell—is terrifying. If Ryder finds out that Noah is his nephew, will he take the boy away?

  Ryder wants to blame Becca for his sister’s wild behavior. Yet as he spends time with the loving single mom and her son, he realizes she might be someone he could love...if he can ever learn to trust her again.

  “Look, if you’d just tell me the truth, maybe I can help.”

  Becca blinked, then looked at her fingers curling over his hand, her fingernails digging into his palm. Her eyes widened a fraction. Oh, yeah, she was rattled.

  Straightening her spine, Becca slowly withdrew her hand. “I’ve told you the truth. I can’t help it if you choose not to believe me.”

  “Fair enough. But now I’ve got another problem. Going by what you just told me, I have to believe you know exactly where Amy is, you know what kind of trouble she’s in, and yet you left her behind to fend for herself.”

  Becca’s faint smile was tinged with bitterness. “You obviously don’t know your sister very well.”

  “How could I? She was still a kid when you dragged her to LA.”

  The smile vanished. Her eyes filled with disbelief as her lips parted. After several moments of charged silence, Becca pushed back her chair and stood. “Well, I believe we’ve said all there is to say, so if you’ll excuse me...”

  Her expression startled him. She wasn’t just angry. Becca looked hurt. He saw her hand tremble slightly. No. No way. He wouldn’t feel sorry for her.

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to Blackfoot Falls in beautiful northwest Montana! I’m about to introduce you to a local couple that returning readers haven’t met before. Ryder has been too busy expanding the family ranch, and Becca left seven years ago, never considering that she could go home again. But now she has, along with her four-year-old son, Noah, and a secret that will change their lives forever.

  For everyone who’s been following the Made in Montana series and hanging out with me and the townsfolk for the past five years, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This makes book nineteen, and it’s with profound sadness that I’m saying goodbye to the town and all its quirky characters. It’s no wonder Ryder and Becca’s book gave me a few pauses. But ultimately, how Becca and Ryder came to love each other was a journey that kept surprising me, and I couldn’t rest until they got the happy ending they deserved.

  Thank you all. I hope you find this story as satisfying an end to the series as it’s been for me.

  All my best,

  Debbi

  TO TRUST A RANCHER

  Debbi Rawlins

  Debbi Rawlins grew up on the island of Oahu in Hawaii, but always loved Western movies and books. When she was twelve she spent the summer on the Big Island of Hawaii, and had the dubious honor of being thrown off her first horse. A year later, minutes before a parade started down her street, she managed to find the most skittish horse in the lineup and...you can probably guess the rest.

  These days, sixty-five-plus books later, she lives on four acres in gorgeous rural Utah surrounded by dogs, cats, goats, chickens and free-range cattle who just love taking down her fence every couple years.

  Books by Debbi Rawlins

  Harlequin Western Romance

  Made in Montana

  Stealing the Cowboy’s Heart

  Her Cowboy Reunion

  Harlequin Blaze

  Made in Montana

  Alone with You

  Need You Now

  Behind Closed Doors

  Anywhere with You

  Come On Over

  This Kiss

  Come Closer, Cowboy

  Wild for You

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Her Cowboy’s Triplets by Sasha Summers

  Chapter One

  Becca Hartman’s heart pounded. Today was the start of a new phase of her life. One where she’d have the time to give her son dinner and put him to bed every night, instead of just checking in on him after he was already asleep. It felt like the best gift she’d ever been given, and she didn’t want to screw it up.

  She checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to remember the last time she’d worn a dress. The second it hit her, she wished she hadn’t tried so hard. It had been her grandfather’s funeral. Two years ago. She’d rushed back to Montana but had almost missed the service. Grams had taken one look at her and cried for an hour straight.

  Oh, God, Becca couldn’t think about that now. She smoothed a wrinkle on the blue dress, then dabbed on some lip gloss. Satisfied that she looked presentable for the first day in her brand-new position, she went to the kitchen.

  Noah sat at the table in his booster seat, making designs in his cinnamon-topped oatmeal.

  “Hey, sweetie. What do you think about you and me celebrating my promotion tonight?” Becca opened the fridge and brought out the orange juice. “Pizza sound good to you?”

  He was too quiet.

  Reaching into the cupboard for a glass, she glanced over her shoulder. “Noah? Did you hear me?”

  Making a face, he stuck the wrong side of his spoon into the cereal.

  “What’s wrong? You love oatmeal.”

  “I want bananas.”

  “I’ll pick some up after work,” she said. “For now, you eat it like that, okay?”

  From the window, she saw Isabella coming up the crumbling cement walkway, sidestepping the neighbor kid’s rusty bike. The relief that swept Becca was more proof she was far too anxious over her new job. The woman hadn’t been even a minute late in the four years she’d been watching Noah.

  “Mommy?”

  Becca turned a smile on him.

  A glob of oatmeal hit her chin. She gasped, looked down and watched the goop slide down the front of her dress.

  Noah broke into peals of laughter.

  People always said the twos were terrible. Yeah, well, four was no picnic either.

  Although, as a rule, Noah was a very sweet little boy. It was usually after he’d spent time with Amy that he acted out like this. She spoiled him terribly, all because she felt guilty for abandoning him. And then, consistent with their longtime friendship, Becca was left to clean up the mess.

  “Noah?” She grabbed a paper towel. “Why did you do that?” She heard Is
abella’s quick knock, then the door squeaked open, but Becca kept her eyes on him as she dampened the towel. “Noah? Answer me.”

  He bowed his head and shrugged his thin shoulders.

  Isabella quietly set her tote aside. Becca sure hoped the woman knew a trick to get the stain out, or she would have to wear the only other dress she owned. The black one, stuffed far, far back in her closet.

  Her stomach rebelled at the thought.

  “I’m sorry,” Noah mumbled.

  “You must never do that again. Do you understand?” Becca waited for his nod. “Now, aren’t you going to say hello to Señora Rios?”

  He looked up with a tentative smile. “Hola, Señora Rios.”

  Señora came out garbled, and Becca had to stifle a grin.

  Isabella ruffled his hair. “Mmm, I smell cinnamon,” she said. “Better hurry up and eat your oatmeal before I do.”

  Noah giggled and shoveled a big spoonful into his mouth.

  “They’re making you wear dresses now?” Isabella joined Becca at the sink and took the paper towel from her.

  “No one said I had to.” Becca gladly handed over the task before she made a mess. “I’ve never worked in an office before so I thought I’d go all out for my first day.” She worried her lip. “Pants better be okay. I can’t afford to buy new clothes.”

  “I bet my daughter has some things that would fit you, if you don’t mind secondhand.”

  Becca smiled. If she did, she wouldn’t have a couch or a dresser, or much of anything, really. “You don’t mean Lydia...”

  Nodding, Isabella used a tiny drop of dish detergent to rub out the cinnamon smudge below Becca’s collarbone. “Sure I do. What’s she going to do with a closet full of size sixes?”

  “She’d be crazy to give up anything.” Becca guessed most of it was designer stuff. “She’ll lose the pregnancy weight.”

  “No, she won’t. And now she’s pregnant again.”

  “Well, you must be thrilled. Another grandchild for you to spoil.”

  Isabella snorted but couldn’t help looking pleased. “There you go, good as new,” she said, stepping back and inspecting her handiwork. “Don’t worry if you have to stay late. Just call and I’ll feed him his dinner.”

  “Thank you. I’ll try not to be past five thirty, and I can always call Amy to come over...” Becca trailed off as she looked into Isabella’s kind, knowing eyes. Amy was about as reliable as a broken watch.

  “I pray for her,” Isabella said, lowering her voice and glancing at Noah. “Maybe one day she’ll surprise you.”

  Becca nodded. No prayers had helped so far, just like no amount of Becca’s determination had managed to bring Amy to her senses. First, it had been Derek who’d gotten his hooks into her, and later, so had the drugs. But Isabella was a devout, churchgoing woman, and who knew, maybe her prayers carried more weight.

  Noah slammed down his empty cup. “More milk.”

  Becca gave him a warning look. “Is that how you ask?”

  “Please.”

  “And no more slamming your cup,” Becca said, turning toward the fridge.

  Isabella had already opened the door. “Go. Don’t miss your bus. I’ll take care of Mr. Cranky Pants,” she said, the last of it loud enough for Noah to hear. It always made him laugh.

  “What would I do without you?” Becca asked, giving the woman a quick hug.

  “You’d do just fine.” She smiled and patted Becca’s cheek. “That little boy is very lucky he has you.”

  Becca was the lucky one, she thought as she stepped back to let Isabella pour his milk. Isabella had been a social worker and was at the hospital the day Noah was born, had been there when Amy had asked Becca to take care of him. Isabella was the only other person who knew about their complicated situation, but even she didn’t know everything.

  With his dark hair and blue eyes, Noah didn’t resemble Amy or Derek, and sometimes it was very easy for Becca to forget that he didn’t belong to her. She had no parental rights whatsoever, but Noah was hers in every other sense.

  It hadn’t been Amy who’d changed his first diaper or stayed up all night with him when he was sick. It had been Becca. From day one, she’d bought his crib and bottles and pretty much everything else he’d needed. Not easy on a waitress’s tips. But she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

  As for Derek, he hadn’t once acknowledged the child, which was a true blessing. The guy was scum. An abuser. And every time Becca pictured her beautiful, bright-eyed friend the day she and Amy had left Montana for the neon lights of LA, Becca wanted to cry.

  Amy was a mere shell of the person she used to be. Her skin was sallow, her green eyes dull and lifeless, and it seemed she could only muster a smile for Noah these days. Every time he asked Amy about the bruises and she made up a different excuse, it broke Becca’s heart.

  Ironic, really, that Amy had fled Blackfoot Falls to escape her abusers and then run straight into the arms of an even more sadistic man. Actually, it wasn’t ironic. Becca knew better because of all the reading she’d done and the pamphlets she’d collected. It was a vicious cycle—one only Amy could break, if and when she was ready.

  The knowledge didn’t make Becca feel any less responsible. After all, she’d helped Amy get to LA.

  She hurried to the bathroom for a tissue and to check her makeup. Getting emotional wouldn’t do her any good. This promotion was a big break for her. The money, the hours, everything was finally falling into place. In a year, two tops, she hoped to have saved enough to get them out of this crappy neighborhood.

  After grabbing her purse off the dresser, she stuck her head into the kitchen. Isabella was standing at the sink, humming, looking like a ray of sunshine in one of her flowery handmade dresses. Noah was still eating, his head bent over his bowl, as he intermittently hummed a few bars along with Isabella.

  He looked happy.

  Seeing him like that was all it took to brighten her day. She couldn’t possibly love him more if he were her own child. But he wasn’t, and she hoped with all her heart the day never came that she’d be forced to give him up.

  Which could happen if Amy ever got clean... Though of course that was what Becca wanted for her friend. She did. Anyway, Amy would never keep them apart.

  * * *

  RYDER MITCHELL SAT in the dirt in the middle of the corral, waving the dust away from his face, ignoring the hooting and hollering of the three troublemakers who’d convinced him to show Toby the finer points of breaking a horse—one that was supposed to be used to a saddle.

  “Hey, boss, let me give you a hand.”

  Ryder ignored that, too...until he heard the applause and realized Lance was being a smartass. The other two hired men, Toby and Bear, were leaning against the corral railing with him, still laughing.

  “Yeah, that’s right, keep it up. Better hope some other sucker springs for your beer.”

  That wiped the smirks off their faces.

  “Oh, come on now, we’re just having some fun,” Lance grumbled.

  “Not all of us,” Ryder muttered and pushed to his feet.

  Shaking his head, Wiley snatched Ryder’s dusty Stetson off the ground and handed it to him. “You ain’t hurt, are you?” the foreman asked in a quiet voice.

  Ryder shook his head. “Just my pride.”

  “Sure you didn’t break your check-writing hand with that stupid stunt?” Wiley asked, loud enough for the horses in the pasture to hear him.

  Wiley ignored the kid as he glanced toward the house. “Does Gail have their paychecks? I can go get them from her. Unless they’re still in your office.”

  The bunkhouse door slammed, giving Ryder a few moments to think it over. Otis, who did the cooking for the men, hobbled outside, using his arm to block the late-afternoon sun as he joined the other men at the railing.

 
Ryder looked back at Wiley. The poor guy had developed a thing for Ryder’s mother. Gail didn’t have a clue, and he doubted Wiley would ever act on his feelings. The man had been a friend to Ryder’s father until he’d died three years ago, and Wiley had started working for the family long before that.

  In his mid-fifties now, he had some gray at his temples and in his sideburns. But he was as lean and muscled as any of the younger men who worked under him. He was also honest and hardworking. Gail could do a lot worse...once she finished grieving. It sure would help if his flaky sister called more often. Better yet, Amy needed to pay their mom a damn visit once in a while.

  It was coming up on Thanksgiving—maybe she’d surprise them. Yeah, he wouldn’t take a dollar bet on that happening.

  “I’m not sure where I left the payroll,” Ryder said finally. “If you don’t mind, check with her.”

  “No problem.” Wiley took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair as he headed toward the house.

  The truth was, Ryder didn’t know how he’d feel if the two of them ever got together. He wanted to see his mom happy again, though. And if Wiley could bring a sparkle back to her eyes, well, who was Ryder to judge?

  Hell, he had no business having an opinion, period. He hadn’t been able to make his own marriage work. Clearly, he was better at ranching.

  He looked around, filled with a bone-deep sense of satisfaction. The main barn had been completely overhauled, and next, he planned to reinforce and repaint the barn behind the stable, which now had a new roof. As did both the calving and equipment sheds.

  Over the winter, they’d have to move the north fence line since he’d just bought another seven hundred acres from Alvin Medina. By staying focused and investing well, Ryder had the cash to get a good deal. And he still had enough money to do more remodeling in the house.

  So far, he’d made the kitchen and family room easier to navigate now that his mom used a cane and sometimes a walker. She’d always enjoyed cooking, up until the day his dad had passed. Since then, she’d lost interest in most of her hobbies. But now, with all her new, high-end appliances, she’d been trying out different recipes like she used to.