After The Lights Go Out

By Barbara Kaye

HOSPITALITY – TEXAS STYLE!

Crystal Creek...where power and influence live in the land, and in the hands of one family determined to nourish old Texas fortunes and to forge new Texas futures.

TROUBLE'S BREWIN'

Jealousy was the last thing Scott Harris expected to feel. Especially over an employee. But one of he guests at the Hole in the Wall Dude Ranch is showing an unusual interest in his ranch manager, Valerie Drayton, and Scott doesn't like it one bit. Trouble is, Val seems determined to stick to Scott's own rule – no fraternizing with the boss.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460819449

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

SCOTT HARRIS STOOD in the center of the lodge’s lobby and slowly pivoted, a satisfied smile on his face. After six months of the hardest physical work he had ever done in his life, he now had all this.

All this was the culmination of a dream. The Hole in the Wall Dude Ranch was going to knock everybody’s socks off. The lodge, spanking new, had purposely been built to look rustic. The lobby was dominated by a massive native-stone fireplace. Two leather sofas faced each other on either side of it, and a Navaho rug lay on the floor between them. Groupings of leather chairs were scattered around the room, and game tables stood in front of the huge picture window. There was Western paraphernalia scattered about—a steer head stared down from the mantel, and Western art adorned the walls.

The rusticity was all for show. The lodge was chock-full of every modern convenience, and the dozen double and four single guest rooms upstairs were the latest word in comfort. At any given time, the Hole in the Wall could play host to twenty-eight people in the lodge, more in the family cottages out back, and Scott figured if he could keep paying guests booked at eighty-percent capacity during the spring, summer and fall, he might turn a tidy profit. Everything was working out better than he had dared hope. He’d finally appeased his neighbor, Carolyn Townsend, and convinced her that the exotic animals wouldn’t be hunted nor would they threaten the health of her cattle, so as opening day loomed, he couldn’t have been more pleased.

He crossed the foyer, went through the dining room, then through the gleaming, restaurant-size kitchen and out the back door. It was mid-May, and the weather had been cooperating beautifully. The extended forecast called for more of the same—fair and mild. Abundant spring rains—including a torrential storm several days ago—had turned the Hill Country of Central Texas into a verdant paradise. Perhaps Providence was smiling down on his dream.

The entire building was encircled by a covered veranda. Here on the rear portion a dozen cowhide chairs were propped against the wall. From this spot parents could watch their children in the pool, which was only a short distance away. Scott’s boot heels tapped out a staccato rhythm as he crossed the porch and descended the steps.

The sound brought a grin to his ruggedly handsome face. Until six months ago he had never worn cowboy boots, jeans and a Stetson on a regular basis, but he’d surmised that guests at a dude ranch would expect the owner to be a cowboy. Scott wasn’t, not by a long shot, but he could sit a horse well, and he had real cowboys to take care of the stock, the roping, the trail rides, the campfire cookouts and the like. And he was even beginning to be comfortable with the clothes.

He was by profession an attorney, but the lucrative Austin practice that had made him, if not wealthy then extremely well-off, was a thing of the past. During the past twelve years he had seen more meanness, avarice and heartbreak than most people would see in several lifetimes, and he had finally fled in horror, fearing he was becoming cynical and jaded. Here at the Hole in the Wall, families would come together for a good time, not shatter asunder.

Scott’s eyes took in everything at once. It had been a very long time since he’d loved a place. In the distance, the ranch buildings seemed to be dozing in the late-afternoon sun. Guests would expect a ranch to have corrals, a barn and stable and a bunkhouse, and the Hole in the Wall had them all. It also had riding trails and hiking trails, picnic tables around a huge barbecue pit, six family-size guest cottages and another one for his manager. Another small building adjacent to the lodge housed the custom boot-making enterprise run by Serena Davis and Cal McKinney.

On beyond it all, far out of sight of the lodge, was the area reserved for the exotic game he had imported. Blackbuck antelope from India, wild Corsican rams, East African oryx and axis deer were some of the species that roamed the two-hundred-acre preserve. Guests would be invited to participate in photo safaris. Closer in, nestled in the trees that partially obscured them from the rest of the compound, were the four tennis courts, with their bright light. Scott had briefly considered doing away with the courts altogether, feeling they didn’t really belong in the rustic surroundings, but then he’d decided that a guest ranch would have to have them. A young pro named Mark Whatley had been hired to give lessons four days a week. Val had assured him the courts weren’t a jarring note, and Scott had learned to trust her judgment completely.

His gaze wandered toward his manager’s cottage. He wondered where Val was. She had been all over the place all day, issuing orders in that sweet, soft drawl of hers, but he hadn’t seen her in a couple of hours.

As if on cue, the door to the cottage opened, and Valerie Drayton stepped out. Seeing him, she waved and headed in his direction. She seemed to lope rather than walk, as though she was imbued with enormous unused energy, and she truly was the hardest-working person Scott had ever known. She had been with him a month now, and he had no idea how he’d managed without her.

Scott had interviewed half a dozen people for the job of general manager before he’d received her résumé. She had answered his ad in a farm-and-ranching publication. He had read all the dry statistics—thirty-two years old, five foot seven, auburn hair, green eyes, single. She had never done anything but ranch work, and for the past three years she had been assistant manager of a dude ranch near Bandera. She knew her way around livestock, had excellent organizational skills and was accustomed to handling a payroll. On paper, Valerie Drayton had sounded too good to be true.

In person, she was that and more. Scott smiled as he recalled their first interview. She had been enthusiastic about the concept of the ranch and had made several suggestions he had since put into practice. Perhaps it was that very enthusiasm that had prompted him to hire her on the spot, one of the wisest decisions he’d ever made.

Val had turned out to be something of a jack-of-all-trades. She worked well with people, knowing instinctively when to lavish praise and when to employ a little subtle arm-twisting. Qualities like that simply didn’t show up on a résumé.

And nothing in her résumé had told him of her full-breasted, sleek-as-a-colt figure that filled out a pair of jeans about as well as any he’d ever seen. Her appearance alone was an asset because people were naturally attracted to her. Though Scott hadn’t particularly thought about having a woman manager, he now thought of his hiring her as a stroke of genius.

Good evening, boss, she called as she neared. Doesn’t everything look great?

That it does, with many thanks and a tip of the hat to you.

Her face flushed slightly. I’ve loved every minute of it. Are you getting excited?

You bet.

I thought I’d check on the upstairs guest rooms one last time, just to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. And there are a few things in my office that need attention.

Scott shook his head. Val, you must be dead on your feet. I know how tired I am, and a slip of a thing like you…

Hey!

Scott chuckled and drew himself up to his full six-foot height. Sorry. To me, you’re a slip of a thing. I know you can work circles around anyone on the place, me included, but enough’s enough. I think we’re both entitled to an evening off. I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t go into my office all evening, and you won’t go into yours.

Okay, it’s a deal.

How about coming inside and having a drink with me? Then Carla can fix us something to eat. Okay?

Valerie hesitated, but only for a few seconds. That sounds wonderful, Scott. Thanks.

He took her by the arm, and together they climbed the steps.

JEFF HARRIS TAPPED a toe on his pickup’s brake as he approached the boundaries of Crystal Creek. Apprehension churned inside him. He’d never found asking for help easy, and asking for his brother’s help promised to be excruciating. But he had no choice. He had exhausted all other resources.

As he drove into the small community he glanced around without much interest. He guessed he was about forty miles west of Austin, out in the boondocks for sure. What had prompted Scott to pick this place? he wondered. He’d always pegged his brother for a city man.

Crystal Creek was a nice little town, he supposed, if one liked nice little towns. Jeff didn’t particularly, nor did he particularly like big towns. He never allowed himself to get attached to places…or to much of anything, for that matter.

An intense growling in his stomach reminded him how long it had been since he last ate. Facing Scott on an empty stomach wasn’t appealing, so he began looking for a place to get a meal. He finally saw something—the Longhorn Motel and Coffee Shop. It had been his experience that motel coffee shops were pretty good bets when one was in unfamiliar territory. He parked in front of the establishment, went inside and took a stool at the counter. Within a minute a pretty brown-haired waitress had placed a menu, silverware and a glass of water in front of him.

Hello, she said. Do you need a few minutes to decide what you want?

No, just bring me chicken fry with gravy on the side.

The waitress turned and called the order through the serving window, then again faced Scott. Something to drink?

Ice tea, I guess.

While she filled a tall glass with ice, she said, You’re not from around here, are you?

No.

Just passing through?

No, I have a brother living in the area. I came to see him. Can you tell me how to get to the Hole in the Wall Dude Ranch? He owns it.

Scott’s your brother?

Yeah. You know him?

Oh, almost everybody knows Scott. We’re all excited about that place he’s opening. It promises to be a real boon for this town. She set the glass of tea in front of him. Funny. Scott was in here yesterday and didn’t say a word about expecting a visit from his brother. By the way, my name’s Nora Jones.

Hi, Nora. Jeff Harris. And Scott’s not expecting me.

Ah, she said with a smile. You’re going to surprise him.

Jeff chuckled quietly and stared at the wall over Nora’s shoulder. Yeah, I guess I am. I figure it’s going to be quite a surprise, all right.

TWO VODKA AND TONICS had left Valerie feeling more relaxed than she liked to be around Scott. It was too easy to dwell on her boss in anything but an employer-employee manner. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t be indifferent to Scott Harris. When she had arrived at the Hole in the Wall for her interview with him, he had almost taken her breath away. Tall, ruggedly handsome and impeccably mannered, he was unlike any rancher she had ever known. In fact, he wasn’t like any man she had ever known.

Of course she had later learned that he was about as much a rancher as she was a Rhodes scholar. But then, the Hole in the Wall wasn’t a working ranch. It was a place for city dudes to come and play at ranching, a far cry from what she was used to. Even though the place near Bandera had taken in guests, cattle had been the serious business there. Here it was a sideline, just part of the big show.

Another drink? Scott asked.

No, thanks. I’m not used to much alcohol.

They were seated in the lobby, Val on one sofa and Scott across from her on the other. He looked completely relaxed and happy, unusually so, for he was by nature a serious, rather reserved man. Val was accustomed to the casual untidiness of working cowboys, so Scott’s suave sophistication was new to her. Sometimes when she looked at him if she was sure he didn’t know he was being watched, she would somewhat wistfully wish she had the luxury of regarding him as simply an interesting man who had entered her life, someone she wanted to know better.

But that was impossible because he was her employer and she wanted to keep this job. He had made it very clear from the beginning that he expected them to maintain a strictly professional posture with the hired help and with each other. But that wasn’t the sole reason Val kept her distance from the most attractive man she had ever met. Scott was dating Beverly Townsend, Crystal Creek’s reigning goddess, and Val harbored no illusions about her ability to compete. Beverly had everything she herself lacked—stunning beauty, money, a solid family and a college education.

Did you hire that man who applied for a job this morning? she asked. What was his name…Harte?

Scott nodded. Luke Harte, and, no, I didn’t hire him.

We really need another hand. Why not?

I thought he’d worked for J. T. McKinney for a while, but J.T. wasn’t on the list of Harte’s references. I wondered why, so I called J.T.

And?

He says he never hired Luke. The man has a reputation for being lazy and more interested in women and hell-raising than in getting a day’s work done.

Well, we certainly don’t need someone like that around here.

My thought exactly.

Mr. McKinney’s the man who had the heart attack about the time I got here, right?

Right.

How’s he doing?

He says he’s doing great, and Carolyn says the same thing.

Scott looked up to see Fiona Daly, one of the housemaids, standing timidly in the foyer. Yes, Fee.

Carla says you can have dinner whenever you like.

Thanks. He quizzed Val with a raised eyebrow. When she nodded, he turned back to the maid. Tell her we’ll have it now, he said, and Fee left.

The big dining room could seat forty people at two enormous tables. Another half-dozen tables for four stood in front of the big windows. The room was the size of a small restaurant, and its walls were papered with photographs and newspaper clippings about the citizens of Crystal Creek, another of Val’s ideas.

In spite of its size, the dining room had a homey feeling to it, as did most of the rooms in the lodge. One of the tables in front of the windows had been set for two. Scott and Val had no sooner sat down than the kitchen door flew open, and Carla Moreno came out of her bailiwick, carrying two plates laden with food. While they ate, Scott and Val discussed every aspect of the Hole in the Wall operation, trying to decide if there was something they’d overlooked.

There wasn’t, Val was sure of it, but they went over everything again. Guests would check in by noon Monday and out by noon Saturday. Stays of one or two nights were not encouraged; this wasn’t a hotel. Then the staff, both household and the cowhands, could have Saturday afternoon till Sunday night free. So could Val and Scott.

Huge ranch-style breakfasts would be served; there would be box lunches for those who wanted them, and at night family-style meals would be served in this cavernous dining room. On Friday nights, weather permitting, an outdoor barbecue would be held; if rain threatened, a lavish buffet would be served in the lodge instead. Scott and Val had gone over the arrangements again and again, with each other and with the staff, and yet Val was certain there would be glitches that neither of them had foreseen.

They talked through the meal and were still talking when Carla served dessert and coffee. They didn’t often dine together, but when they did, they discussed business and only business, so Val knew very little about Scott. He was as handsome as Adonis and drove a sleek black Lincoln that fit his newly acquired cattleman persona like a glove. He was in his mid-thirties and had never been married. He had given up an Austin law practice to build the Hole in the Wall. His father had died some years ago, and his mother lived in a town house in Austin. He had a brother whom he seldom spoke of, but from a word dropped here and there, Val assumed the brother was something of a black sheep, in Scott’s estimation, at least.

Those little tidbits of information were the sum total of her knowledge about the man. And she guessed he knew even less about her—just the dry, pertinent facts on her résumé. He’d never asked her many questions, so she supposed he simply wasn’t the curious type. Or maybe he wasn’t interested in her personal life. He was very business-oriented.

Now think, Val…have we covered everything?

I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of something we’ve missed, but I haven’t found anything. But things can look perfect on paper and still fall apart when you start applying them to people.

Scott nodded thoughtfully. Yeah. Well, as long as nothing major goes awry, I guess we’re okay. We’ll learn.

At that moment the doorbell rang. Scott frowned and waited for someone to answer it. A second or two passed, then he stood up. I guess Carla and Fee can’t hear the bell. I’ll get it. He strode out of the dining room, across the foyer and threw open the door.

The sight that greeted him nearly floored him. He blinked once to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. The last