CHAPTER THREE

J ENNY SAT WITH S UMMER AT A TABLE IN THE SALOON, EATING A Miner's Burger and Fire-in-the-Hole Fries, the specialty of the house, along with a cup of Smelter Soup.

The bar menu was limited—just burgers, sandwiches, salads, and pizza, which came frozen, but, with a few extras, actually tasted very good. There were miscellaneous appetizers, like fried mozzarella, onion rings, and chicken wings. Just enough to keep the customers happy.

It was the bar that made most of the money.

"So how's everything going?" Summer asked. She'd been living in Jerome since her mother bought the Butterfly Boutique ten years ago, and the two had moved into an apartment upstairs.

"This business is never easy," Jenny said. "But I'm dealing. It's harder now that Uncle Charlie's gone and I'm on my own."

Summer picked up a fry, dabbed it in a blob of ketchup, and popped it into her mouth. "At least you have your brother." She ate another fry. "He looks great, by the way. What's he doing these days?"

Jenny smiled. "Dylan always looks good, and if that's a subtle way of asking if he's seeing anyone, the answer is no one serious. Not that I know of, at any rate."

"Think there's any chance he would ever ask me out?"

"I don't know. I think he'd like you if he got to know you, but he's stubborn. He'd be pissed if I tried to interfere in his love life."

Summer sighed, and both of them dug into their burgers. Jenny was sipping a Diet Coke when she spotted someone pushing through the old batwing doors at the entrance.

"Speaking of good-looking," Summer said, "check out the guy who just walked in."

Jenny's attention fixed on the door. The man was at least six-three, with a pair of biceps bulging from the sleeves of a black T-shirt snug enough to reveal a set of shoulders any linebacker would envy and a heavily muscled chest.

"That's Cain Barrett," Jenny said. "He's the new owner of the Grandview Hotel."

"I've heard about him, but I've never seen him. Wow." She sighed. "Just wow."

Jenny smiled. "Can't argue with that."

"I heard he's doing a major remodel over there."

Jenny nodded and sipped her Coke. "Dylan said he went to Mingus High School, same as I did, but he was older. He dropped out for a couple of years, came back and graduated, then left town. I guess he was just too far ahead for me to remember him."

Dylan had also told her the men in the Barrett family had been miners since the early nineteen hundreds. Rumor was, they were ruffians, outlaws, and criminals. Dylan said Cain had been extremely poor as a kid, but apparently that had changed. Cain Barrett was now the owner of Barrett Enterprises, a company worth millions.

The Grandview remodel was well underway when Cain had begun showing up in the bar. Occasionally, he would come in with the job foreman or one of the guys on the construction crew. Once in a while, he came alone and sat at the bar. One of the locals told her he had dated an army of glamorous women, but he had never married.

"Oh, my God," Summer hissed. "He's coming over here."

Jenny sat up a little straighter, wishing she weren't wearing the red bandana that tied up her hair in a ponytail. Not that she was interested. After her cheating husband and her ugly divorce, men were off-limits.

"Ms. Spencer," Cain said in a deep, masculine voice as he stopped next to their table. "It's good to see you."

"You as well, Mr. Barrett."

"It's just Cain. I thought we'd settled that the last time I was in here."

Her cheeks warmed. She didn't really know him that well, but he was a good customer, and if that was the way he wanted it . . .

"All right . . . Cain. This is my friend, Summer Hayes. She and her mother own the Butterfly Boutique just down the street."

Cain smiled. "Nice to meet you, Summer." He had a solid jaw, dark brown hair, and gold-rimmed dark eyes.

"I'd like to speak to you for a moment when you're finished," he said. "I have a business proposition for you."

Summer surged to her feet. "I was just getting ready to leave." Though half her burger and fries remained on her plate, she nearly knocked her chair over trying to escape.

"I'll buy next time," Summer added. "Nice to meet you—"

"Cain," he reminded her, and Summer's face flamed.

"Cain," she repeated.

"You as well, Summer."

With a last glance at Jenny, Summer turned and hurried out of the bar. Jenny forced herself to relax as Cain pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" she asked.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"So what can I do for you . . . Cain?"

"I need to hire a consultant to help me finish the hotel. I'm interested in hearing suggestions that could make the place run better. I figure you've been managing this place for a while—"

"Actually, I own the Copper Star. I've been working here off and on since I was a kid. Now I own the property."

He looked chagrined. "My mistake. I should have done a little more research. I thought Charles Spencer was the owner."

"Uncle Charlie recently passed. He left the Star to me."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. I miss him every day."

Cain just nodded. "Being the owner/operator, you clearly know how to run the business, which gives me an even better reason to hire you."

Jenny frowned. "Surely you can find someone a lot more qualified than I am to give you advice on how to run your hotel."

"Maybe. But I'd have to bring them in from Phoenix, find a place to put them up until we open, and take the risk they know what they're doing. Add to that, Jerome is a specialized clientele, a mix of locals and tourists. A tiny community that's extremely self-sufficient. You're accepted here, and you understand the mix."

Jenny considered the offer. She knew how to run the Star, but this was different. The old Grandview Hotel had dozens of rooms, plus a bar and a restaurant. She wasn't sure she could handle the job.

On the other hand, she could certainly use the money. Uncle Charlie had run up a debt on the business she was still paying off, and there was a second loan to cover the construction on the newly opened wing.

"I'd have to hire someone to fill in for me while I'm over at the Grandview," she said. "How long would you need me?"

"Until the hotel is finished—at least a few weeks, maybe longer. But it would only be part-time, which should allow you to handle things here as well."

At least the place was close by. She would still be driving the eight miles to and from her small house in Cottonwood, but she was used to that. "What sort of money are we talking about?"

Cain named a sum that made her head swim. Maybe she had misunderstood. "Are you . . . are you sure?"

"If it isn't enough—"

"No! That . . . that isn't what I meant. I meant are you certain you want to take that kind of risk on an unknown commodity like me?"

He smiled, and a soft flutter rose in her stomach. "I like the way this place operates," he said. "I like that the locals come here as well as the tourists. That means you're doing a good job. It also means you're an accepted part of the community. That's what I want for the Grandview."

"You were raised in Jerome. You'll be accepted as a local."

Cain shook his head. "I've never been accepted. But that's a story for another time. Do you want the job or not?"

She had offended him. She hadn't meant to do that. "Would it be all right if I took a look at the hotel before I give you an answer? It's been closed for three years. I'd like to see what I'm getting into."

Cain relaxed. "Good idea. I should have thought of it myself. I'm liking this idea better and better. Do you have time to go now, or should I come back for you later?"

"I'm afraid I can't go today. Tomorrow would work."

"All right. What time shall I pick you up?"

"We've got a shift change at five. I usually take a break about then."

Cain nodded. "Fine. I'll be here tomorrow at five."

"It's only up the hill," Jenny said. "I'll just walk."

Something that might have been irritation—or maybe it was amusement—touched his lips. Clearly Cain Barrett wasn't used to someone else calling the shots. Jenny wondered if taking the job would be a mistake.

Cain shoved his big frame up from the chair, and Jenny stood up, too. She hadn't realized how much he would tower over her. She thought of Richard, but his abuse was mental, not physical.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at five." Cain turned and strode across the room. Liking the view, Jenny watched until he disappeared out the door.

* * *

The afternoon was coming to an end. Cain pulled his silver Dodge Ram 2500 diesel out of the parking lot of the Grandview Hotel, his most recent acquisition.

His grandmother was ailing. Nell Barrett had been in an assisted-living facility in Prescott for the last five years. Cain had always taken care of her needs, but her fondest wish was to return to Jerome, the place she had been born, the place she had lived with her late husband for forty-five years.

But Nell needed twenty-four-hour care. Which was the reason Cain had purchased the Grandview. For the last eight months, he'd had a construction crew remodeling the old hotel, turning it into what he hoped would be a profitable business and, more important, a place for his grandmother to spend the last years of her life.

As far as Cain was concerned, he owed Nell Barrett everything. He'd been four years old when his father had abandoned the family. A year later, his mother had dumped him with his grandmother and disappeared, too. It was Nell who had raised him, fed and clothed him, done her best to turn him into a decent human being.

He owed her for making him the man he had become and for everything he had accomplished. She wanted to spend her last years in Jerome.

By God, Cain would see that she got her wish.

He slowed the pickup to take the steep curve in front of him. There were thousand-foot drops off the edge of the narrow road. The drive wasn't for the faint of heart.

Jerome sat at a 5,600-feet elevation. There were two ways in and out: one off Highway 17 or the shorter route back to his ranch, along a formidable switchback through the national forest.

The remnants of Jerome perched on the steep side of a mountain, its precarious location alone making the place a tourist attraction.

Added to that was its violent, yet interesting history as a Wild West town—the murders, the shoot-outs, the gruesome fires that had burned the place down again and again and taken countless lives. Shifting soils, a result of the eighty-eight miles of mine tunnels, had killed thousands of miners and collapsed whole portions of the city.

His grandmother loved Jerome, with its colorful residents and western history, but the place held few good memories for Cain. Too much bad had happened. Too many gruesome deaths. Too many ghosts.

He smiled at that. He'd been around the town since he was a kid, but he'd never seen a spirit. Maybe you had to be a believer.

Whatever the truth, the Grandview was famously known as one of the town's most haunted places. The Copper Star was another.

The thought reminded him of the woman who ran the saloon, Jenny Spencer. Cain remembered Jenny from high school. Petite and always smiling, she was popular with the kids in school. He'd noticed her one day when one of the football jocks had been picking on a boy named Felipe, a Latino kid about half the guy's size.

Jenny had gotten right in the jock's face and warned him he'd better back off or else. The jock and his buddies had laughed their asses off, but they'd left Jenny and the kid alone.

She'd only been a freshman, way too young for him. He'd been a real bad boy in those days, hung out with an ugly crowd, but he never would have hurt an innocent young girl.

Jenny was no longer a kid. With her curly brown hair and big green eyes, she was even prettier than she had been in school. Her figure had matured from girl to woman, which made him think about her in a way he hadn't back then. She still had that girl-next-door appearance, and she still intrigued him.

Cain was now a respectable citizen, and after her divorce, Jenny was available. He wanted to find out more about her than the gossip he had heard, to satisfy his curiosity if nothing else.

He was meeting her at five o'clock tomorrow. Meeting her, not picking her up. The feisty young woman she had been before was still there.

Cain smiled.

It was an hour later that he arrived at his destination, the Cross Bar Ranch, the sixteen-hundred-acre property he had purchased two years ago. He owned a house in Scottsdale, not far from Barrett Enterprises, and a condo in Vegas, but the ranch felt like home, the first real one he'd ever had.

White fences surrounded the main house, as well as the barns, alfalfa fields, and pastures where a herd of purebred Black Angus cattle grazed. Turning into the fence-lined lane that led to the sprawling single-story, Spanish-style home, Cain spotted a white sheriff's SUV with gold lettering on the side parked out front.

Deputy Sheriff Hank Landry stood on the front porch talking to his housekeeper, Maria Delgado, a short woman, twenty pounds overweight, with straight black hair worn in a single long braid. She did the housework and cooked for him, but returned to her husband at night. Cain was fortunate to have her.

Maria pointed the deputy in Cain's direction and closed the front door, leaving the situation to him.

"Deputy Landry," Cain said as he climbed down from the truck. "I hope you've brought good news." Landry was lean, in his early fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair. He was relatively new to the area, having worked in the Sheriff's Department for less than six months.

"Just wanted you to know we did as you asked," Landry said. "Took a couple of deputies and went out to have another look at the pasture where you said the horse went missing."

"And?"

"It's rained since you first reported the incident. Any vehicle tracks were washed away. The department has put out a bulletin on the theft, but so far nothing useful's been reported."

"That's too bad. Looks like you wasted a trip."

"Didn't want you to think we weren't doing our job."

"Of course not," Cain said, with a hint of sarcasm the deputy missed. He wasn't happy with the effort the Sheriff's Department had put out so far. Or maybe it was just Landry, who was in charge of the district.

"I'll let you know if anything breaks on the case," the deputy said.

"I'd appreciate it." Cain watched as Landry turned and headed for his SUV.

So far he wasn't a fan. Their conversation had left him exactly where he'd been before. Minus a half-million-dollar championship cutting-horse stallion that had disappeared without a trace.

The horse belonged to him, and Cain kept what was his. It was time he did a little investigating of his own.