The Rancher

by Julia Justiss

  “Or twisted barbed,” he said with a grin.

  “Don’t mess with a tired woman,” she warned and finished off the water. “Have half-a-dozen babies to visit today. I’d like to get to it so I can get home, clean up, and get something to eat. This fence-mending is hard work. I’m almost hungry enough to eat one of the fence posts.”

  “A little hard on the digestion. Let’s head out. Why don’t we take my truck, since the supplies are already loaded? We can stop back to pick yours up after we finish.”

  “Agreed,” Harrison said and walked around to climb up on the passenger side.

  Working as the well-oiled team they’d become, they were able to complete the tagging in little over an hour. Harrison sighed with relief when Duncan pulled his vehicle up beside her truck.

  “Will you be offended if I don’t invite you in for wine and a chat tonight?” she asked as she climbed down. “Right now, all I want is to gobble something out of the fridge, then get a hot bath, a glass of wine, and crash.”

  “Not offended. Disappointed, maybe,” Duncan said as he walked over to open the truck door for her, “but better disappointed than suffering the ego-deflating possibility that you might fall asleep while in my scintillating company.”

  “Smart man,” she said as she climbed up, then closed the door and leaned out the open window. “I’ll start a little earlier tomorrow, just in case.”

  “I’ll keep the gear in my truck and meet you at the barn tomorrow to pick up more. By the way, how many breaks did you have to fix?”

  “About a dozen.”

  Duncan frowned again. “That does seem like a lot. Were the fences stretched, or broken clean through?”

  “Some stretched, some broken.”

  “Was the wire on the broken ones jagged on the ends?”

  Harrison thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. I just noticed it was broken and needed to be fixed. Why?”

  “It does seem like an awful lot of breaks all at once.”

  “I sure thought so. It’s been almost that bad every day this week.” She let out a tired laugh. “If it weren’t so Machiavellian, I’d almost think someone was doing it on purpose. Like Marshall Thomason, hoping to discourage me from staying with the ranch. He made a big point of telling me what hard work it was going to be to run it.”

  “It is hard work, but usually it’s manageable.”

  “Do you think he’d do something like that?”

  Duncan shook his head. “Not the Golden Boy himself. But if he thought you could be discouraged into giving up on the ranch, he might hire someone to do it.”

  “Wow. I really threw that out just as a joke. You think it’s possible?”

  “Probably not. But if you come across more broken fences tomorrow, don’t fix the top wires. I’d like to have a look at them. Now you need to get home. Don’t want you saying I’ve worn you to a nub.”

  As he told her that, he took her hand from the doorframe and raised it to his lips. “Rest well, Cowgirl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With that, he tipped his hat, walked back to his truck, and hopped in. After giving her a wave, he backed the truck and drove off.

  Harrison sat immobile for a few minutes longer, tired . . . but with her knuckles tingling in the wake of his unexpected kiss.

  He really was a gallant, old-fashioned gentleman. Which made him way, way too appealing.

  Despite the common sense that told her to go slow, her battered heart warmed under his gentle care like a night-frozen stream melting in the dawn sun. She’d better be careful or, common sense or not, she’d find herself falling for another handsome, charismatic man. A kind, dependable, honest, and sympathetic handsome, charismatic man. A dependable, honest and sympathetic man who revved up a sensual response she would have bet she was too tired to feel, just by kissing her hand.

  If he’d kissed her on the mouth, she might not have sent him home.

  Dependable, handsome, honest, and arousing . . . What a deadly combination, she thought as she put the truck in gear and drove to the ranch.

  If she was so vulnerable to being won over by warm, loyal, affectionate support, maybe she’d better stave off disaster and get herself a dog.

  *

  Meanwhile, after stopping home to clean up and change into fresh clothes, Duncan drove into town to the Whiskey River Diner. He’d been craving that burger he’d planned on getting when he suggested that he and Harrison dine there together. And, second only to Martha at the drugstore, the good old boys who hung out at the diner, chatting over lunch or dinner, were as reliable a source of what was going on around town as the “personals” column in the Whiskey River Review.

  If there were any outsiders drifting around—Duncan couldn’t imagine that any local resident would agree to sabotage another rancher’s fences, no matter what inducement Marshall Thomason offered—one of the old boys at the diner would probably have seen them.

  A half hour later, Duncan parked his truck outside the diner and walked in. As he expected, a group of “the guys” sat at their usual corner booth, chatting over chicken-fried steak, grilled chicken platters, and sweet tea.

  One of the group, Bob Hensen, a now-retired rancher who’d been a good friend of his father’s, looked up as he entered and waved. “Duncan, how are you? Staying to eat or just getting takeout?”

  “Staying. About tired of my own company at dinner.”

  “Come join us then!”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  He continued up to the counter, placed and paid for his order, and then walked over to the corner booth. The four other ranchers who sat with Bob, most of them also retired, moved over to make room for him.

  “How goes the calving on the Triple A?” Bob asked after Duncan sat down.

  “Good so far. Pretty good weight on all the calves, only one mama that had difficulty, and no losses. How is it going on the Double H?”

  “Good as well. I’ve been helping Roddy out now that it’s gotten really busy. But we’ve passed the halfway point, I think. Should finish up in two weeks or so.”

  Duncan nodded. “We’re at about the same point. Mr. Miller, how’s your son doing on the Bar M?”

  For the next hour, Duncan listened in companionable silence as the men discussed the progress of calving on their respective ranches, griped about the low price of beef and the high price of feed, and debated the merits of pooling some cash to have the local Rancher’s Association buy an ultrasound machine that could be used to pregnancy-test their cows more quickly and accurately.

  Not until he’d polished off his quarter-pound “all the way” burger, an order of curly fries, and most of a large sweet tea, did the talk turn back to him.

  “Hear you’ve been helping out Harrison Scott’s daughter while Juan Cortez is laid up,” Tom said.

  He’d already expected that if he came here, he’d get quizzed about Harrison. As long as he kept his answers casual and matter-of-fact, he shouldn’t excite too many rumors.

  “I am,” he replied. “I saw her out mending fences one morning after Juan hurt his back. She asked if I could suggest somebody else to help her out until he recovered. If I could have thought of anyone with experience who wasn’t already working, I would have sent him over. As it is, I’ve had to get Ralph to do more on the Triple A to get the time to help her, but with her in a bind, I didn’t feel I could refuse. Not after she’d just lost her Daddy. Those calves were going to drop and need tagging and tending whether she was prepared to do it or not.”

  “Right neighborly of you,” Tom said.

  “Heard you took her dancing too,” Bob said, his tone deceptively casual.

  “She’s like her Daddy—a hard worker who doesn’t take much time off. I thought she needed to get out at least for one night, get her mind off missing him and all the work she had to get done. Which leads me to ask, do any of you know of anyone who could take over for me to help her out? Some newcomer, maybe? Hopefully an experienced cattle hand. She said Juan’s
back is being real slow to heal. Calving’s almost done, but there will be hay to cut soon and then the branding and vaccinating.”

  The men looked at each other, murmuring and shaking their heads. Tom, though, said, “I don’t know of any experienced ranch hands, but I have seen a couple of guys in a pickup driving around town. Didn’t recognize them or the pickup. Thought I saw it parked by the road out along the way to the Scott place.”

  “If you see them again, would you stop them and see who they are? Maybe quiz them to see how much they know, if they tell you they’ve done any ranching?”

  “Most likely just some tourists riding around, looking for property to buy,” Bob said.

  “Probably right,” Duncan agreed. “But if any of you do see them again, would you stop them and ask?”

  “Sure thing,” Tom said. “I’ll talk to my son and a couple of our hands too. Maybe we can get a group of guys to rotate helping Miss Scott out for the branding and calving, give you a break.”

  Not at all what he wanted, but he wasn’t going to light any fires of romantic speculation by telling them that. “I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”

  “Is she going to stay and run the ranch then?” Bob asked. “We heard she had some . . . trouble in Dallas, and didn’t plan to go back there, but her Daddy always said she was a whiz at accounting. I’m sure there’s lots of firms in Austin or San Antonio that would hire her.”

  “I don’t know,” Duncan answered honestly. “She says she’s enjoying running the ranch, but she hasn’t been doing it long enough to know for sure yet whether she’ll stay for good.”

  “Yes, she’s not seen a drought summer when the creeks dry up and the calves won’t put on weight and everyone needs to buy hay when there’s none to be had and the price of beef plummets because too many ranchers have to sell off early,” Tom said wryly.

  “Exactly,” Bob said. “Ranching’s not for the fainthearted.”

  “We all hope we don’t get a summer like that!” Duncan said as the other ranchers nodded their agreement.

  “Marshall Thomason would be happy to have one like that,” Bob said with a frown. “If he and his Daddy had their way, there wouldn’t be a ranch left anywhere around Whiskey River. Ever since they bought up that land out past the airport, they’ve been hounding the ranchers hereabouts who’re running with the slimmest profits, trying to persuade them to sell off their land. And just how would they know who’s close to being in financial trouble? Must be in cahoots with those bankers.”

  If there were any group ranchers viewed with suspicion, it was the big banks in San Antonio from whom they were sometimes forced to get loans.

  While the other ranchers chimed in their approval, Duncan stood up. “I best be going. Good to see all of you.”

  “Not going to stay for a Kodak bar or a banana split?” Bob said.

  “Better not. Don’t want to ruin my girlish figure,” Duncan said.

  “Don’t worry about mine any longer,” Bob said, patting his ample belly as the other men chuckled.

  “I’ll let you know if I see or hear anything of those strangers again,” Tom said.

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it. Great hamburger, as always,” Duncan called to the waitress. “See you all around.”

  He walked back to his truck, thinking it had been a successful foray into town. He’d gotten his burger, defused, he hoped, most of the curiosity about his association with Harrison and learned that there had been some strangers driving around.

  If the strangers stayed in town, Tom wouldn’t be the only one out looking for them. As far-fetched as it was to imagine Marshall Thomason would hire someone to do malicious mischief on Harrison’s ranch to encourage her to sell, he couldn’t quite erase the suspicion from his mind.

  Especially after the other ranchers confirmed that Thomason and his father were pressing hard to get more of the local landowners to sell. He’d take a look at those broken fence wires himself tomorrow.

  Before he could climb into his truck, a feminine voice called, “Duncan McAllister, have you gone deaf?”

  He turned around to see Brie Connolly on the covered portico outside the diner, smiling at him. He’d really like to give her a wave, hop in his truck, and drive away, but Brie had been one of the accommodating ladies he’d not only taken to dinner, but, at her invitation, to bed afterward.

  She’d be offended if he didn’t at least talk to her. So he smiled, waved, and walked back up to meet her. “Hi, Brie! How’s it going?” he said, leaning over to kiss the cheek she offered him.

  “You sure were distracted! Had to practically holler at you to catch your attention.”

  “Long day. Just filled up on the diner’s ‘Rancher’s Burger Special,’ so add a food coma on top of being tired. What are you up to?”

  “Picking up my truck from the square. Momma and I went to the outlets for some shopping and then came back for dinner at Baron’s. My, what good steaks they have!”

  “Supplied by your friendly local ranchers.”

  “Haven’t seen much of my favorite friendly local rancher lately,” she said, giving him a speculative look from under her long lashes.

  “It’s calving season. You grew up on a ranch, you know the drill. Long, long days, grabbing dinner and falling asleep in your chair, then starting again at dawn the next day.”

  She nodded. “I do know. Which is why I told Daddy I was not interested in running any part of the ranch for him! Brad and the boys are welcome to it. I much prefer a nice nine-to-five job underwriting loans at the bank.”

  “And the bank likes having you. A smart, pretty lady on staff lures the locals into keeping their business here instead of going to one of the big banks in San Antonio.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she said, giving him a dimpled smile and another glance that was definitely come-hither. “Sure you’re tired? We could go to Booze’s for a nightcap and then maybe figure out an even nicer way to end the evening. We did have a good time together, didn’t we?”

  “We did. And I’m mighty tempted. If anyone could bring a half-dead man back to life, it would be you. But those calves tomorrow won’t wait.”

  She wrinkled her nose, clearly miffed at having her invitation rebuffed. “I suppose not. But calving season’s almost over, isn’t it? Give me a call sometime.”

  “I will. And after being ungentlemanly enough to turn down your offer, I can at least walk you over to Booze’s. If you want me to.”

  She gave him another enticing smile. “I guess I’ll let you. Even though you did disappoint me, I’d be silly not to accept the escort of the handsomest man in town.”

  “Don’t let Brice hear you say that. He might take out that big Ranger 45 and shoot me.”

  She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. While they walked across the square, he asked after her family, then got her to tell him about her work at the bank and her plans to renovate the house outside town she’d just bought.

  A few minutes later, they halted in front of Booze’s. The watering hole, a Texas historical landmark building that had been the original site of the mercantile run by the town’s founder, “Booze” Kelly, drew a nightly crowd of locals who stopped by after work or dinner to have a drink or a casual meal, meet friends, and hang out.

  “Looks like a congenial crowd,” Duncan said, scanning the group through the glass door. “Isn’t that your friend Sarah?”

  “Yes, it is,” Brie said, brightening. Though Duncan suspected her increased enthusiasm was more the result of spotting highly eligible bachelor Marshall Thomason by the bar than knowing that her friend waited inside.

  “I’ll leave you in good hands then. Have fun, Brie,” he said.

  “Call me, now,” she ordered, blowing him a kiss before turning to walk into the bar.

  “Whatever the pretty lady says.”

  Duncan stood for a moment, watching her walk in and head right for Thomason, though she must have called a greeting to her friend too, as the woman glanced up at her
and waved.

  After he got a good look at the next set of broken fence wire on the Scott place, he might be wanting to have a chat with Thomason himself.

  It struck him as he walked back to his truck that, although Brie was exactly the kind of woman he’d looked to date post-Julie Ann—blonde, curvaceous, bubbly, and ready for a good time with no strings attached—he’d felt no inclination to respond to her thinly veiled invitation.

  Well, maybe a little. But though his body might crave what she offered, he didn’t have any desire right now to go through the ritual of chat, flattery, dinner, and alcohol that led to a night of casual sex.

  More than that, he realized with a jolt, he didn’t want to jeopardize the relationship developing between him and Harrison by indulging in a fling with a woman he liked but would never be serious about.

  There was no hope for him then. He really was falling for Harrison.

  Maybe it was time to ramp up the romancing and find out if she could fall for him—before his own feelings got any deeper.

  Chapter Twelve

  Two days later, Harrison spent another long, tiring morning out in the pastures, finding this time not just a handful of fences that needed mending, but a brush-clogged section of a spring that fed into the main creek that traversed the ranch.

  She’d first seen it when she drove around looking for new calves and had mentally marked the place to return and tend to after she finished her rounds. Not until she drove back later and almost got the truck stuck in a bog did she discover the flow had not just been blocked, but that its stream had been diverted to form a growing pond in a low spot in the pasture adjoining the clogged section.

  Figuring that the brush must have been washed down by the previous night’s heavy thunderstorm, she set about clearing it out. Which turned out to be a lot more difficult and time-consuming than she’d expected.

  The branches and debris had collected at the mouth of a section just before the stream narrowed to plunge down a steep incline. Wading through the ankle-deep pond beside the diverted stream and then climbing down to grab a handful of the brush snagged between the rocks and other branches, then climbing back out again without falling in the mud, or falling into the stream, had proved challenging and exhausting. By the time she finally pried out enough of the branches and stems to get the water flowing downstream again, she was muddy where she wasn’t wet, and exhausted in the bargain.