B00DVWSNZ8 EBOK

by Jeffrey, Anna

  "Then a little extra pay should be welcome. Do you have any questions?"

  "I do have one. If I decline, what happens? Would you then put your daughter in the job?"

  J.D. adjusted his silver glasses. A solemn, direct look came from his brown eyes. "No, Brady. I would not. My daughter has a place in the bigger picture when the time comes, but not as the general manager. I'd have to look for someone outside of Willard County."

  Whoa! Brady would bet the job he had just been offered that Jude had no idea her father planned on hiring an outsider to manage the Circle C. But the set of J.D.'s mouth and the look in his eye told Brady that was exactly what he would do. A man didn't oversee an empire for all the years J. D. Strayhorn had without the ability to make tough calls.

  Still, Brady hesitated, trying to muddle his way through what Jude had told him and what J.D. had just done. He would never make a decision about something like this without thinking about the ramifications of his accepting. "My problem is time,” he said. “And speaking of time…” He rose from his chair. He had to escape so he could think and digest what had just happened. "How about I give you an answer by the end of the week?"

  "Great." J.D. pushed back from his desk, stood and put out his right hand. "Just give me the word and we'll sit down over a drink and talk money."

  "Great," Brady echoed, shaking hands. He moved toward the office door, still reeling.

  "While you're thinking about it," J.D. said, "I'd like for you to keep in mind I'm not talking about a temporary arrangement.”

  Brady stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Yes, sir?”

  “After a reasonable trial period,” J.D. said, “if it works out and if we can come to an agreement where you're satisfied, I'd expect it to be long-term. If I invest in a man, I want him to make an investment, too."

  "Yes, sir, I understand," Brady said, opening the door, his head in a whirl.

  J.D. followed him out to the hallway and they strolled toward the back door together. Jude hadn't been kidding about her dad’s approach to life. The preceding conversation had sent reservations and caution and worry careening through Brady's mind. "Beautiful art," he said casually, taking in the paintings on every wall.

  "Besides my cigars, it's my one guilty pleasure. My vice, you could say. Most of my social activity consists of shopping for art." He bent and delicately dusted something off a frame with his fingertips. "I gave up on courting women a long time ago."

  Brady left the ranch house at a clip, eager for the privacy of his truck cab. As he drove away from the ranch, he pored over every word that had passed between himself and J.D.. His circling thoughts settled on J. D. Strayhorn, the man. He remembered him from his boyhood days as somebody who was always busy, who walked in quick steps everywhere he went, a man who rarely smiled and had little to say. Brady couldn't fault him for the latter. He was a man of few words himself.

  Now, looking at J.D. through the prism of adult eyes, Brady saw him as not much different today than he had been twenty years ago. He came across as a cordial enough guy, but also one distant son of a bitch.

  If he didn't want his daughter running the ranch, why hadn't he anointed his nephew Cable? Brady knew Jake had no interest, but no one, not even Jake, seemed to know if Cable was interested.

  Not once since the day Brady had been hired had J.D. mentioned Cable or Jake or Brady's association with them twenty-something years back. Brady had brought up Jake and Cable a couple of times in conversation, but J.D. had glided right past the subject of his two nephews as if they didn't exist.

  While in Weatherford with his mom over the weekend, Brady had even discussed J.D.’s unwillingness to acknowledge his nephews. She had reminded him of the details of the affair between J.D.'s wife and brother and the car accident that had killed them both. Was that incident at the root of J.D.'s attitude, even his very personality?

  Punctuating everything that had just happened in the past hour was a tiny voice in the back of Brady's mind. It told him that after what had happened between him and Jude, he should have turned down J.D.’s offer on the spot. He shouldn't even consider taking it. That lost weekend was bound to come back to haunt him.

  But at the moment, ego and temptation were the more powerful drivers. For a man who loved the outdoors and good cattle and smart horses, being a general manager of one of the largest and most successful ranches in Texas was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He couldn't discount the money, either. Without a doubt, the job came with a six-digit salary.

  His most nagging concern was Judith Ann. Was him becoming the general manager the best and surest way for her to see some of her own wishes for the ranch fulfilled?

  Chapter 17

  As much as Jude loved teaching at the high school, she loved her students. Preparing for the launch of the school year suddenly had her busier than she had been all summer. With the sports teams beginning tryouts a couple of weeks before classes started, she was forced to juggle riding Brady's horses and working with Sal with her obligations at the high school. She had little time to stew over Brady's social life.

  She worked with Sal in the big corral on Saturday. The mare had become easier to catch and was more responsive to commands, though she suffered occasional lapses and reverted to her wilder instincts. Because it was the weekend, Jude had wondered whether Brady would stop to see how the mare was improving, but he didn't show. Nor did she see him when she worked with Sal on Sunday afternoon.

  On Monday, the workouts with the prospective volleyball and basketball players lasted into the afternoon. All week, she had arrived home well after supper and ended up eating in the kitchen while Irene cleaned. Wanting to reach the ranch house in time to eat with Daddy and Grandpa, she decided to pass on riding Brady's horses.

  Daddy met her at the back door and told her he and Grandpa had been missing her at the evening meal. She hurried upstairs and showered off the day's dust and heat. She dressed in a full floral-print skirt made of floaty fabric and a simple aqua T-shirt. She had bought it especially to wear with a gorgeous necklace made of cat's-eye stones, mother-of-pearl beads and a huge turquoise cabochon. It was an artist's original she had purchased during her last trip to Santa Fe. She was too late getting downstairs to meet Daddy in his office for a drink.

  She, Daddy and Grandpa took their seats at the table and dined on fried quail with cream gravy and mashed potatoes. Toward the end of supper, Grandpa asked Daddy, "Did young Fallon give you an answer?"

  Jude's attention perked up and she leveled a look across the table at her father. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and turned his head toward Grandpa, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "He came and talked to me today. We're going to start on Monday with him spending days with me."

  What were they talking about? Jude watched as Grandpa busied himself pushing peas onto his knife.

  "I hope you know what you're doing, Jasper," he said.

  "I have a lot of confidence. The more I see him with the hands, the more I like him. He's a quiet guy. Doesn't say much. Doesn't throw his weight around. When he does talk, he's usually got something to say. He's got leadership skills, too. Can make decisions. No longer than he's been here, the men already look up to him. He gives off an air of trust. I'm impressed."

  Jude's fork stopped, suspended over her plate. What were they talking about?

  "And what about his place?" Grandpa asked.

  Daddy shrugged. "He'll have a little more money to spend on it."

  "But will he have the time? I'm sure I don't have to remind you, Jasper, that this ranch requires your attention daily, seven days a week. The hands might take days off, but you don't."

  "I know, Dad. It's just a trial for a few months. Fallon understands that."

  Jude's felt as if the hair had risen on her scalp. A knot so large she couldn't swallow another bite of food formed in her stomach. She laid her fork on her plate with a clunk. "What are you two talking about?"

  Her father looked across the table at her, his express
ion unsmiling. "I was going to tell you, Jude, but we didn't get a chance to talk before supper." He put down his fork and dabbed at his lips with his napkin. He spoke without looking at her. "I'm giving Brady Fallon a trial as a general manager."

  Jude's jaw dropped. Her heartbeat thudded and the very air whooshed from her lungs. "But you—you can't."

  "Jude, listen—"

  "No. I won't listen. If this ranch requires an additional manager, it should be me."

  "Jude, we've talked about this many times. You can't manage the hands. It would just be too hard for a woman."

  "You don't know that. The LO is owned by a woman. And she runs it herself. And she—she works alongside the hands."

  Her pulse was swishing in her ears so loudly, she felt as if she were screaming from the bottom of an empty well.

  "And look at her," Daddy said. "She looks more male than female. Caring for livestock is a physical outdoor job. The years of hard work in the sun and weather have taken their toll on Louelle, Jude. Even on her health. She's had no life. She's had to work twice as hard as the hands just to hang on to their respect."

  A memory of the last time she had seen Margie Wallace alive flew into Jude's mind. Her skin had been tanned to nut-brown and as wrinkled as badly treated leather. She had dressed in men's clothes and, like Louelle Squires, looked more male than female. Jude's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She searched for a rebuttal, but her brain felt as if it had frozen.

  "But there's more to it than that," Daddy said, leaning forward, as if pushing his face closer would strengthen his argument. "Ranching's a precarious business these days. Every time we turn around, there are new regulations. Or some new radical group wants to put us out of business. We just aren't making the profit we used to."

  "But—but we could be. If you and Grandpa weren't so old-fashioned. If you'd listen to some of my ideas and—"

  "Jude. We've talked about this."

  "Our ways have come from practice over time, Judith Ann," Grandpa put in. "They work as well as any can. Your daddy's seen to that. Change only for its own sake is too costly."

  "We can't afford to experiment," Daddy added.

  "Experiment!" Her eyes bugged. "What do you think you'll be doing with Brady Fallon?"

  She held her father's gaze, waiting for a reason, an excuse, anything, but he only looked at her.

  "I've lived here my whole life,” she cried. “I know every inch of every acre, every section. I know the animals. I've organized my very existence around the management of this place. I've dedicated myself to its future. I've made sacrifices. You can't do this."

  "Judith Ann, remember yourself," her grandfather said. "We're at the supper table."

  Jude glared at her grandfather. Her heart was pounding and she realized her voice had become strident. She reined in her frustration and tried to compose herself. Hysterics would gain her no ground with two men who thought women weren’t quite bright. But she was shaking and unsteady. "And—and what about Cable? If you need another management person, why wouldn't you bring him home?"

  "We talked to Cable months back," Grandpa said.

  Jude stared at her grandfather, blinking. Daddy hadn't told her he was even considering giving up management of the ranch, had never told her that her grandfather had contacted her cousin Cable. Of course Grandpa, and probably Daddy, too, had talked to Cable. He was, after all, male.

  "He's happy where he is," her father said. "He's got his hands full with his rope-manufacturing company. He isn't interested in coming back here."

  "But Jake—"

  "What about Jake?" her father said coldly, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

  Grandpa cleared his throat and signaled Irene to refill his water glass.

  Indeed, what about Jake? Jake had made it clear in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in associating with his grandfather or his only living uncle, but he might be happy Brady Fallon had been chosen to ramrod the Circle C.

  Jude was out of words. Nothing she said would matter, anyway. "This is insane," she cried. She threw her napkin on her plate and jerked away from the table.

  She charged up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. Inside her room, she paced, breathing deeply, seeking to calm the pounding in her chest. She would leave here. She would not, could not, stay where she wasn't wanted. Or appreciated. She would leave. She should have done it already.

  She went into the bathroom and pulled a clean washcloth from its rack, drenched it with cold water and pressed it to her face. Her cheeks were on fire. She sank to the vanity chair, waiting for her pulse rate to slow and her thoughts to organize.

  After a few minutes, she returned to the bedroom just in time to hear boot steps in the hall. It would be her father. She couldn't remember the last time he had been to her room, but she was sure her outburst had upset him.

  Three light raps.

  Don't open the door, a childish part of her said. You're upset. Let him be upset, too.

  But she couldn't shut out her only parent. She drew a shaky breath and opened the door.

  "Hey, punkin, can I come in?"

  She threw a palm in the air and jammed the opposite fist against her hip. "You know, Daddy, I really hate that name. I've asked you a hundred times to please not call me that. I'm not ten years old. If you want to talk to me, the least you could do is call me by my name."

  He came in and carefully closed the door behind him, a hangdog look about him. In case he intended to hug her or try to cajole her out of her anger, she stepped out of his reach. He walked over to an antique fainting couch that occupied a corner of the room and sat down. He looked up at her and patted the seat beside him.

  "I'm not in the mood to sit down," she said, crossing her arms under her breasts. "Or to talk. You're wasting your time coming up here."

  She moved to one of the three tall windows and pulled aside the filmy ivory lace that covered it, turning her back on him. She stared out at the garden and trees beyond. Tiny white lights—fairy lights—hung in the trees like stars in the twilight. She had put them there herself one Christmas break when she was home from college. Doing it had taken her days. At her father's instruction, Irene's husband had maintained them ever since.

  "You know something, Daddy? I should've never come back here after school. I could've gone on to vet school. Or gone to Dallas or Houston or even back East and worked in research. I came back because I thought I was needed. And I thought the Circle C was my future."

  "Jude, it would break my heart to see you leave here." His voice came to her softly, laced with sincerity. "This is your home. And you're the best thing I have to show for my time on this earth."

  She couldn't doubt he loved her. She huffed. "If that's true, why treat me badly?"

  "I thought you liked Brady Fallon. I thought that's why you were working his horses for him."

  "This has nothing to do with Brady Fallon." She turned to face him. He was leaning forward, looking up at her, his forearms propped on his thighs. "Why don't you get it?" she said tersely. "Why don't you understand that I'm an extremely capable, well-educated adult? That I happen to be female doesn't take away from that fact. I can run this ranch."

  "I don't doubt your capabilities for a minute," he replied sharply. "Do you think I'd turn management of our bull herd over to you if I doubted your ability? Do you think I don't know how challenging it is to buy and sell and maneuver three hundred bulls? Your knowledge has improved the quality of our calves immensely. And they get better every year. Don't think I don't know why the packers want Circle C steers before any other and why they pay more. My confidence in you isn't the issue."

  "It's exactly the issue."

  He sighed and straightened, bracing his palms on his thighs. "Most women want to get married and have their own families. That's what Grandpa and I both want for you. What chance do you think you'd have to do that if you were trying to ride herd on all of this?" He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "I'm not complaining a
bout it, because I love it. It's my life. But, Jude, keeping the Circle C afloat is an all-consuming job."

  Jude knew the hours he worked and had marveled for years at all he dealt with single-handedly. Daily, even after he came in from outside, he spent hours in his office. She relented and sat down beside him, but refused to look at him.

  His arm came around her. He gripped her shoulder and pulled her against his side, surrounding her with the scent of cigars and whiskey, the scent of familiarity and home. But she wasn't ready to surrender her anger. And his words didn't heal the slash he had made on her heart. She leaned away from him, but he didn't let go.

  "Don't be mad at me, sweetheart," he said. "I'm trying to do what's best for everybody. You've seen how your grandpa's slipping. I'm more than a little worried about him. I'm going to have to help him more, which is why I felt a need to bring in another man."

  At the mention of the word "man," Jude’s mouth quirked.

  "You could help Grandpa, too, you know. Learn the ins and outs of the ranch's finances. That's important, Jude."

  Jude knew that. But that facet of the ranch's operation had always belonged to Grandpa. Sometimes he spent entire days on the phone with bankers and investment types or with the accountant in Lubbock. Strayhorn Corp had investments in many venues other than West Texas land and cattle.

  As if he knew what she was thinking, her father added, "You know, we haven't been as lucky as some of the other West Texas stock growers. Without oil, the management of outside investment is just as important as taking good care of our land and our livestock."

  Jude was well aware oil had not been discovered on the Circle C land. At one point years ago, a push had been made to find the elusive black gold and thirty wells had been drilled. Thirty dry holes. Nowadays, the science of oil exploration had vastly improved and wildcatting was not a shot in the dark based on luck. Scientists could know what was under the surface and where. But until recently, the oil market had been so stagnant and government regulation so inhibiting, no exploration projects had even been considered.