* * *
It wasn’t until the end of the day, after Taggart and Matthew had ridden back into the ranch yard, that Tag had a chance to stop by Blake’s office.
Since he’d started working at Three Rivers, which had been about three weeks ago, he’d only been in the ranch manager’s office a handful of times. He was already learning that his secretary, Flo, a redhead in her late sixties, had a louder bark than she did bite, and that Matthew and Holt were two of her pets.
Now, as Taggart stepped into the outer office where her desk was located at one end of the long room, the secretary peered over the tops of her bifocals at him.
“Hello, Tag. How’s it going today?”
He took a moment to walk over to the woman’s desk. So far he’d never seen the work space anywhere close to being tidy. Papers and envelopes, manila folders, and all types of pens and pencils were scattered across the desktop, along with several coffee mugs. Among the jumble was an up-to-date computer and monitor, but so far he had yet to see her using it.
“Busy. Very busy,” he told her. “What about you?”
“It never lets up. And at this time of the year Holt gives me the task of filling out all the registration papers for the new foals.” Tapping a pencil against the desktop, she regarded him with a thoughtful gaze. “Are you enjoying Three Rivers Ranch so far?”
“I am. The Hollisters are good people.”
“You got that right,” she said, then sighed. “I miss the heck out of Matthew, but he just had to go and get himself married. Good for him, but just terrible for my heart.”
She laughed then and Taggart chuckled with her.
“I hope you’re not thinking about getting married yet, Tag. I’m beginning to like you and I’d hate to see you go, too.”
Him married? Before his mind could scoff away that idea, Emily-Ann was pushing her way into his thoughts. Not that she’d ever been that far away. All day long she’d been lurking at the edges of his mind, making it hard for him to focus.
“Rest easy, Flo. I don’t have any kind of plans for matrimony. And even if I did, I wouldn’t leave Three Rivers.”
He was about to ask her if Blake was still in his office when a door leading into the man’s private office opened and Blake stuck his head around the wooden panel.
“Flo, is—” He paused as he spotted Taggart standing in front of the secretary’s desk. “Tag! I didn’t know you were here. Did you stop by to see me or Flo?”
Taggart grinned at the secretary. “Well, Flo is much prettier than you. But I’m not sure she wants to talk about cows.”
Flo batted a dismissive hand at the two men. “You two go talk about cows. I have work to do.”
Blake motioned for Taggart to join him and he followed the ranch manager into his private office.
The room was furnished with plush leather furniture and decorated with all sorts of photos taken from different sections of the ranch. Some of them depicted huge herds of horses, while others were images of cattle grazing on desert mountain slopes and along the river’s edge.
“Would you like some coffee? It’s only two hours old,” Blake said with a chuckle. “But I can have Jazelle bring us some fresh.”
“Don’t bother with that. I’m fine.” He started toward one of the wooden chairs in front of Blake’s desk, but detoured at the last moment when one particular photo on the wall caught his eye. It was a picture of a very old cabin shrouded by cottonwoods, pines and blooming sagebrush. “This is neat. I’m guessing it must be on the ranch somewhere.”
“It’s the original Three Rivers Ranch house. That’s where my great great grandparents lived when they first arrived in Yavapai County.”
Taggart was amazed. All along he’d assumed that the Hollisters had always had wealth. Obviously this photo proved that theory wrong.
“Are you saying the ranch started like this and grew into what it is today? That’s incredible, Blake.” He turned away from the photo to see Blake was sitting in the executive chair behind his desk. The wan smile on his tired face held a touch of pride.
“I agree. Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that the ranch wasn’t always like this.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Actually, I think my great great grandfather came to Arizona planning to find a fortune in gold. But he didn’t take to mining and soon figured out he could make money by raising beef to feed all the miners and people who’d flooded in to the area in search of wealth. And as it turned out, he figured right. The gold ran out, but the need for beef still remains.”
Taggart sank into one of the chairs and propped his ankles out in front of him. He’d had a long day and it wasn’t over yet. But when he listened to Blake talk about his ancestors and the beginning of the ranch, he realized that he’d become a part of something bigger than he could’ve ever imagined. It was a heady feeling for the little boy who’d once worn hand-me-down clothes and helped his mother stuff rags around the window facings to keep the dust and cold wind from blowing into their house.
“The man obviously had a vision,” Taggart remarked.
“Yeah. And sometimes not following the crowd takes courage,” Blake said, then lifted a brow in his direction. “But you didn’t come by to talk about the history of the Hollisters and Three Rivers. What’s on your mind?”
“Bulls. And calves,” he said bluntly. “Chandler had to perform another C-section this morning. The fourth one out of that particular head of heifers. I understand that four is a mighty small number when you’re dealing with thousands, but the way I see it, each cow and calf is important.”
“Damn right each one is important.” He swiped a hand over his face. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Chandler today. Is the cow/calf pair okay?”
Taggart nodded. “The cow is in fine shape. The calf is a little weak, but he’s coming around. I have Flip and Jerry caring for him.”
Blake’s brows pulled together in a frown. “And that’s two men you could use elsewhere.”
“I’m not concerned about being shorthanded.”
“Then you’re worried that more C-sections are going to be needed.” He rose from the chair and walked over to a small table holding a coffee maker and all the fixings. After he poured himself a cup of the black liquid, he carried it over to a long leather couch and sank onto the end cushion. “Last year I took a chance and put Rambler—that’s the bull on Juniper Flats—on that particular herd of heifers. Every rancher wants big healthy calves and I was hoping there wouldn’t be problems. Looks like I made the wrong choice.”
“I wouldn’t say you made the wrong choice,” Taggart reasoned. “A man has to take chances if he ever expects to get what he wants.”
Grimacing, Blake sipped the coffee. “True. But in this case it looks like I need to make another choice.”
Taggart shifted uncomfortably on the chair. “I’d like to make a suggestion. That we move the bull that’s presently on the Buzzard Gap range to the heifers’ pasture. His size would be much more compatible. I think it would cut down on the number of difficult births.”
Blake leveled a knowing look at him. “You’ve been talking to Chandler about this.”
“Only this morning when he was finishing up the surgery. But if you’re thinking I’m here to be Doc’s voice, you’re wrong. I’m speaking for the welfare of the heifers and babies.”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Tag, Mom and I hired you because of your experience and knowledge. We value and welcome your opinion.”
While Blake leaned back against the couch and thoughtfully considered the situation, Taggart rubbed a hand against the stubble on his jaw. His face hadn’t seen a razor since last night, before he’d picked up Emily-Ann. But he’d never liked shaving and avoided the task as long as he could. If he looked grungy now, he doubted the ranch manager cared.
“All right, Tag, I’m going to go along with your suggestion. Even thou
gh part of the breeding season has already taken place, it might save us problems on down the line.”
More relieved than he cared to admit, Taggart thanked him and the two men went on to discuss how and when to move the bulls. Once everything was decided, Taggart stood.
“I’ve taken up enough of your time,” Taggart told him, then glanced at his watch. “You’ve probably missed dinner with your family.”
Blake chuckled. “The twins are always waiting to join me, so their daddy never eats alone,” he said. “And speaking of dinners, how did yours go with Emily-Ann last night?”
With everything Blake had to deal with, Taggart hadn’t expected Blake to remember about the date with Emily-Ann, much less ask about it.
“It was good. I enjoyed it and I think she did, too.”
Blake nodded with approval. “Glad to hear it. She deserves a nice guy like you.”
She certainly deserved a nice guy, Taggart silently agreed. But he could hardly put himself in that category. Not when half of his thoughts about Emily-Ann were far from nice. In fact, they were downright naughty.
Clearing his throat, Taggart said, “Emily-Ann deserves the best. But I—I’m not really in the market for anything serious.”
Crossing his arms across his chest, he studied Taggart for a long moment. “Dear God, don’t tell me you’re like Holt used to be.”
“How’s that?” Taggart asked.
Blake snorted. “Too many women and not enough time. That was Holt’s motto—until he met Isabelle. I didn’t know a man could be that transformed until I saw it with my own eyes.”
Taggart was as far from a womanizer as a man could get. And he sure couldn’t picture himself as a husband or daddy. Not now. With a shake of his head, he said, “I don’t think I need to be transformed. Not like Holt.”
Laughing, Blake shooed him toward the door. “You must be tired. Get on out of here.”
Taggart left the office and as he shut the door behind him, he saw Flo still working diligently over a ledger book. Did people still use those things? Apparently, she did.
Not bothering to glance up, Flo said, “I heard laughter. You must have said something really funny to make Blake laugh.”
“Just a little something about my love life, Flo.”
That brought her head up and as she stared at him with her mouth open, Taggart hurried out of the office.
Chapter Six
“Oh, look at that yellow-print dress! It’s adorable!” Camille exclaimed as she and Emily-Ann paused on the sidewalk to peer in the plate glass window of Cactus and Candles Boutique. “You would look great in it!”
Emily-Ann groaned. “I don’t have the waistline for that. But you do.”
“Don’t be silly. You have curves from here to yonder and the belt at the waistline will show them off. Now me, I have no waist at all right now.”
“Well, not at the moment,” Emily-Ann told her as she eyed Camille’s very pregnant belly. “But you’ll have one soon. Come on, let’s go in and you buy the dress for yourself. It’ll look great with a pair of cowboy boots.”
Laughing, Camille grabbed her by the hand and the two women went into the little boutique.
An hour later, they came out with Emily-Ann carrying two sacks filled with dresses, shoes and fashion jewelry.
“You shouldn’t have bought these things for me,” Emily-Ann continued to argue as she loaded the items into the back seat of Camille’s truck. “I thought we came out this afternoon to spend time together, not your money.”
“Oh, pooh, I didn’t spend that much. And if I can’t buy my friend something once in a while, then what good is having money?” Camille said as she slipped behind the steering wheel. “Besides, do you know how often I go shopping for girly things?”
“I doubt very often,” Emily-Ann said as she climbed into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. “From what you say, you’re usually at the diner, or working on the baby’s nursery. And what about that sweet little tot you’re carrying? There’s a children’s store on the next block. It has all sorts of clothing and toys and baby furniture. Let’s go in there and I’ll pick out something for him.”
“Whoa, did you say him?”
Emily-Ann grinned. “I did. A boy is what I think it’s going to be. Why? Do you or Matthew want a girl?”
Smiling, Camille reversed the truck onto the street. “Well, I think a girl would be nice. After all, I have four brothers and only one sister. As for Matthew, it doesn’t matter to him. I think he’s already got it in his head that we’re going to have a dozen babies.”
“Uh, that might be kind of hard on you, don’t you think?”
Camille laughed. “Well, twelve was kind of an exaggeration on my part. But I know he wants at least two or three children and so do I.”
Emily-Ann looked over at her friend. “I can’t imagine how you must feel, Camille. To have Matthew love you like he does and to know you’re going to have his baby. You must feel like you’re floating on a cloud or something.”
Spotting the sign of the children’s store hanging beneath the awning over the sidewalk, Emily-Ann pointed to an empty parking spot. “There’s the store. Pull in here.”
Camille parked the truck, but kept the motor and the air-conditioning running as she turned on the seat to look at Emily-Ann. “Before we go in I want to say something about your floating-on-a-cloud idea. Marriage isn’t a big party where everything is fun and perfect.”
Emily-Ann grimaced. “I might be scatterbrained at times, but I have sense enough to know that nothing in life is perfect. Including people and marriages. God knows I had to watch Mom suffer through years of a worthless husband. But you’re very happy, Camille. And you do have a man who loves you.”
“You’re right on both counts. But that doesn’t mean every day is smooth sailing. I’m busy trying to keep the diner a profit, while planning for the baby. And Matthew is working long hours to build up Red Bluff. But,” she added with a dreamy grin, “we’re doing it all together. And that makes everything worthwhile.”
Shaking her head, she said, “If you’re trying to give me marriage advice, Camille, you’re wasting your time. It’s going to take more than your bridal bouquet to find me a good man. It’ll take a miracle.”
Camille reached over and pressed Emily-Ann’s hand between both of hers. “This life I have with Matthew—that’s what I want for you, Emmie. To have someone who loves you. Someone you can share the good and bad times with. I know it will happen for you if you just let it.”
The image of Taggart’s handsome face suddenly floated to the front of Emily-Ann’s mind, yet to imagine a man such as him loving her, sharing his life with her seemed impossible.
Three days had passed since he’d taken her to Jose’s for dinner and she’d not seen or heard from him even once. But that discouraging fact wasn’t enough to get the man’s kiss out of her mind. And he had kissed her. Oh yes. The memory of when they’d stood beneath the Joshua tree and he’d pulled her into his arms was still achingly fresh in her mind. But apparently it had been a forgettable moment for him. Otherwise, he would have surely contacted her by now.
Determined not to let Taggart O’Brien ruin this evening with her friend, she purposely put on a cheery face. Not for anything did she want Camille to guess that she was pining foolishly over something she couldn’t have.
“I’ll try to let it happen. And maybe one day it will. Right now I’m just thrilled for you,” she said, then tugged on her hand. “Now come on. Let’s go buy the kid something he can have fun with later on.”
Camille laughed. “You’re saying he again. I might as well give up and accept the fact that we’re going to have a son. That’s what TooTall has been saying all along anyway. And you can’t argue with that guy’s predictions.”
“Oh yes. TooTall is the mystic Yavapai. The one who kept telling Matth
ew he was going to marry you.” She thoughtfully tapped a finger against her chin. “Wonder what kind of prediction he’d make for me?”
“Hmm. Probably that once you become a nurse you’re going to fall in love and marry a handsome doctor.”
Emily-Ann burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t take a doctor if you handed him to me on a silver platter. If he wasn’t working, he’d always have his patients on his mind. Just give me a good ole Joe. Preferably, one with a heart.”
Rolling her eyes, Camille cut the motor and reached for her handbag. “You know what’s wrong with you, Emmie? When it comes to men you’re just too picky.”
Laughing again, Emily-Ann opened the truck door. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find junior a pair of miniature chaps like his daddy wears.”
* * *
By the time Taggart left Hollister Animal Clinic and pulled into Emily-Ann’s driveway, it was nearing eight thirty. He doubted she would be in bed at such an early hour, but he also realized it was rather late to make an unexpected visit. But three days had passed since their date and he’d waffled about contacting her. If she slammed the door in his face, he couldn’t blame her.
A short moment after he knocked on the door, he saw the flutter of a curtain at the window, then the rattle of the doorknob.
“Tag!” she exclaimed, as she pulled the door wide. “Is something wrong at the ranch?”
Bemused, he asked, “You think something has to be wrong for me to drop by and say hello?”
She hesitated for only a second. “Well—uh—no. I’m just surprised to see you, that’s all. Please come in.”
He stepped into the room and waited for her to deal with the door before he spoke. “I apologize for coming by so late. I did try to call you a couple of times, but the signal on my phone kept failing. I had to bring a mare to Doc’s clinic this evening and I just got away from there.”
The Texan Tries Again (Men 0f The West Book 44) Page 8