The Rancher Meets His Match

by Patricia McLinn

  “I—I’ve got to go, Dax.”

  She dropped into the driver’s seat with more speed than grace. Closing the car door gave her only an illusion of protection from her desires. An illusion that shattered when Dax leaned into the open window frame.

  “Hannah, I’ll be on my best behavior tomorrow. You won’t have anything to worry about from me.”

  She mumbled something he must have taken as acceptance, and maybe that was how she’d meant it. All she knew for sure was what worried her wasn’t his behavior, but hers.

  * * * *

  If June hadn’t been sitting on the Westons’ screened porch talking with Irene when Hannah returned from a visit to Boone and Cambria’s house Friday morning, she would have sought her out.

  “Hi, June. How are you?”

  “Doing fine, Hannah.”

  “Good. Irene, Cambria asked me to bring these—” Hannah put down a stack of place mats and napkins “—back to you. The new ones she ordered arrived yesterday.”

  “Thank you, dear. That’s nice of you. You weren’t up there long.”

  “I hoped to get Boone’s decision on two projects before I leave. But he wants to finish some things on the house. He says they’re running out of time before they head back to North Carolina. But I don’t know, I just don’t think he wants to work.”

  “Boone has loosened up a good bit since he first came to us,” Irene said with a satisfied smile. “But maybe he thinks you’re the best one to make the choices. He trusts your decisions, you should know that, Hannah.”

  “You sound like Boone.” Hannah tried to sound peeved, but didn’t succeed. She turned from Irene’s knowing eyes. “So, what brings you out here, June?”

  “I’m campaigning for Cully.”

  “I wouldn’t think you’d need to stop here—it seems to me all the Westons are solidly behind him.”

  “That’s true, but Irene makes the best coffee around, and I couldn’t resist. Besides, I wanted to talk to you.”

  Hannah’s smile faded.

  Irene stood and exchanged goodbyes with June. “I’ll leave you two alone, then. There’s a cake waiting for me to make it for the hospital auxiliary’s booth tonight.”

  Hannah took the chair across from June. “I’m so sorry about what happened last night. If I had known—”

  She batted the air with one hand to wave off Hannah’s apology. “Mama and I did know. Like she told you last night, we both had a good idea how Dax would react. Actually, he reacted better than I expected. That must be your influence.”

  A knot clenched in her diaphragm—disappointment that June wasn’t right, hope that maybe she could be and fear that maybe she would be, all tied together with that dangerous notion of changing someone.

  “Not my influence, June. I have no influence over Dax. If Dax acted any different, he did it for Will. Because he didn’t want to make things awkward for Will in front of Theresa.”

  “Well, I won’t argue with you about you being able to change his course—even though you’re wrong—but it’s sure he doesn’t want to hurt Will. I wish the big ox gave half a thought to not hurting himself,” she added under her breath. “There’s an expression I remember my father using when I was a girl about being between grass and hay that pretty much describes where Will is.”

  “Between grass and hay,” Hannah repeated. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Cattle feed on grass all summer and into the fall. But when the weather gets cold and the snow and ice is covering up the grass, a rancher switches his herd to hay. You don’t want to do it too early, because hay’s expensive and you don’t know how long and how tough a winter’s ahead. You don’t want to use up your supply early and have nothing later. But you don’t want to wait too long, either, because if the cows aren’t getting enough grass, they’ll get weak and be more likely to sicken and die.

  “It’s an awkward time—touchy, if you know what I mean. And how a rancher handles it has a lot to do with how his herd turns out. I’ve often thought it was a good way to describe when a boy’s turning into a man, or a girl turning into a woman. You don’t want to push it too early, but holding it back too long’s a promise of trouble, too. And each one’s different, like every fall’s different.

  “I figure Will’s stepping into that range between grass and hay.”

  “I think you’re right. He’s so grown-up in some ways and—”

  “Grass green in others,” June finished with a wry smile. “But you’ve helped.”

  “I haven’t done much.”

  “You’ve done a lot, though I’ll give you that some of what’s helped Will is you just being here. Or more like, you being here for Dax to be interested in.”

  “To pretend to be interested in.”

  June snorted. “He’s interested all right. He just doesn’t know what to do with the notion.”

  He knew what to do. He knew much too well for Hannah’s peace of mind. The problem was, he didn’t want the same thing Hannah wanted—or would want if things were different.

  She wanted someone to be her partner. Someone to share the concerns and joys. Someone to rely on and be relied on by. Someone to watch the stars with. It should have made her laugh—she wanted what Mandy always talked about.

  Dax didn’t.

  Dax didn’t? Why didn’t that sound right? He said he didn’t. And most times he acted as if he didn’t.

  To give him full credit, he never pretended he wanted the emotional closeness she craved when it would have gotten him something he clearly did want—such as her in bed. She’d known a lot of men who would have done that in a heartbeat. Not Dax. He was always scrupulously honest. So, when that longing she saw in him surfaced at odd little times, there must be some reason he kept pushing it down.

  Why would someone do that? Because they thought that what they wanted would be denied them? So they avoided the disappointment and pain by not trying? Maybe. Or maybe this was all wishful thinking on her part.

  The realizations that she had been silent for a long time and that June was watching her closely hit simultaneously.

  “Sorry, I lost track.”

  “Uh-huh.” June sounded oddly satisfied. “I should be on my way anyhow, rounding up a few more votes for Cully before I call it quits today. But before I go, there’s another side to that saying.”

  “Saying? Oh, the one about Will—between grass and hay.”

  “Yep. The other side’s between hay and grass. It means the hard times. The times when a real hard winter’s used up every bit of hay you put up and before nature’s brought along the grass to where the cattle can graze. It’s a scary time. Everything can go, all your work, all your planning, all your heart. Those times between hay and grass are when you try to get by and hope for the best. You have to hold on, be patient and believe. Yeah, mostly, you have to believe.”

  For no reason she could express, Hannah felt the hot press of unshed tears in her eyes.

  June nodded, as if Hannah had said something. “That’s right. That’s where Dax is. Been there a long time. He’s still holding on, but that’s about it. He’s never been much of one to believe, and believing’s the hardest part.”

  Long after June continued on her way, Hannah sat on the porch, staring toward the mountains, thinking.

  And believing’s the hardest part.

  * * * *

  “Howya doin’, Dax?”

  The greeting stopped Dax and Hannah as they strolled among the booths selling baked goods, trying to decide whether to have cupcakes offered by the First United Church of Bardville or cookies made by the high school athletic boosters or a slice of cake baked by a certain volunteer for the hospital auxiliary. The decision on dessert had lost a great deal of urgency since they’d filled up on the 4H Club’s chili.

  Hannah saw a man in a brown law enforcement uniform with gray hair showing beneath his hat and a comfortable paunch showing above his belt. The woman at his side had short, graying curls and a warm
smile amid a fan of lines.

  “Hello, Sheriff, Rita. Hannah, this is Tom Milano, Sheriff of Shakespeare County, and Rita Campbell.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Hannah. I work at Jessa’s shop, and I’ve heard so much about you,” Rita said.

  “And I’m the man Cully Grainger’s going to replace, soon as he gets himself elected, so I can retire in peace and Rita and I can get married and go have some fun.”

  Hannah offered congratulations on his impending retirement and their upcoming wedding. Rita talked a little of the wedding, while the sheriff and Dax discussed the election. Then, as the conversation wrapped up and the other couple prepared to move on, Sheriff Milano gave Hannah a friendly wink as they shook hands farewell.

  “Sure is nice to meet the woman who got Dax Randall into the corral.”

  Hannah’s hand, suddenly numb, slid out of his meaty grip. “No. You don’t understand—”

  The sheriff didn’t seem to notice her protest. Dax must have heard what he’d said—he had a sort of frozen expression on his face, like someone listening to important news being broadcast on the radio, still uncertain how it would turn out.

  “And don’t forget the fifty-fifty drawing,” the unheeding sheriff continued. “I’m banking on being lucky in love carrying over to all kinds of luck, no matter what that old saying is—and so should you, Dax.”

  The gray-haired sheriff chuckled and squeezed Rita’s shoulders. But still, Dax didn’t correct the older man. Instead, he gave a casual wave as they walked off with smiles.

  “Dax, I think your friends have the wrong impression.”

  “Hmm?” He sounded distracted.

  “They seem to think—They don’t know I’m leaving.”

  “Yeah.” He looped his arm casually across her back, curving his hand around her waist. “Well, they’ll figure out soon enough they were wrong. No sense making ’em uncomfortable now.”

  He was absolutely right. When she left and didn’t return, anyone who thought that something special was going on between her and Dax would eventually figure out they were wrong. That could lead to some awkward questions down the line. But since Dax—the one who’d get those questions, while she was back home in North Carolina with no one asking questions—appeared unfazed by the prospect, why should she be?

  “I’d almost forgotten about the fifty-fifty,” he said. “You know what that is?”

  “No.”

  “People buy chances and half the money goes into a pot. Winner of the drawing gets the pot, and the other half of the money goes to whoever’s running the fifty-fifty. C’mon, let’s go get some chances before they call Will and me to rope. I’m feeling lucky.”

  And he put his arm around her shoulders for all the world like the sheriff had done with his fiancée.

  * * * *

  That set the tone for the evening. It was as if Dax had decided to ignore anything but this moment. And she gladly went along.

  Watching him and Will compete against other amateurs in the local rodeo challenged her nerves to the maximum. It was thrilling and exhilarating. She thanked God that Dax didn’t compete in what he called the rough stock events. Watching Will get jounced, jolted and rattled on the backs of horses and bulls had her wishing she hadn’t eaten that spicy chili. But at least he was young and limber and likely to heal fast.

  Of course, she didn’t tell Dax that. Especially not when she caught a glint of longing in his eyes as he stood on the fence rails helping Will get settled on one or another peevish animal.

  But to see Dax and Will roping together . . . ah, that was a basketball slam dunk, a tennis ace, a golf hole-in-one and a football touchdown bomb all rolled into one. Fluid motion. Control. Timing.

  The chute would open, releasing a hard-charging steer, and the horses on each side would spring forward. Dax would swing his rope first, looping it over the head of the steer, and when Strider pulled up, Dax would tighten the rope and swing the steer’s hindquarters around. Will, already swinging his rope, would let loose with a loop that somehow went under the animal and caught its hind feet.

  They were a team. First, last and always. Her heart seemed to swell as they accepted the award for second place, standing side by side looking so much alike. She and Theresa clapped so hard their palms turned red.

  “You should have gotten first place,” Hannah said, as they came up the final bleacher steps to where she and Theresa sat. “You two were much more fluid and you worked together better than that other team.”

  “No style points given in team roping,” Dax said, but he looked pleased. “The header from that team was on the pro circuit until year before last.”

  “I spent way too much time building a loop on the first go-round,” Will said.

  Dax shook his head. “Better to take your time there, than waste a loop and risk going out.”

  “Especially with that steer hornswoggling like that,” said Theresa. “And when you threw it, I could hear that rope sing all the way up here.”

  “What’s the matter, Hannah?” Dax grinned at her, and for that moment nothing was the matter in the entire world. “You look confused.”

  “Most of the time y’all speak English, but this is not one of those times.”

  “Y’all,” Dax murmured, and their eyes locked in another smile.

  “Sorry, Hannah. But I did try to explain it to you,” Theresa reminded her.

  “Yes, but that wasn’t English, either. Header, heeler, loops, rodeo as a verb and hornswoggling. My head’s spinning.”

  “Hornswoggling’s when a steer gets dodgy, tries to throw off the rope after it’s been put on him.”

  “Dodgy? What does that mean?”

  “Tell you what, Will,” Dax proposed as he stood. “You stay here and answer Hannah’s question, and Theresa and I’ll go down and get us all something to drink.”

  Will didn’t argue, which didn’t surprise Hannah, but did please her.

  “It’s okay, Will, you don’t have to explain it all to me,” she reassured him as they watched the crowd around the concession stand absorb Dax and Theresa. “I understood enough to enjoy what I saw—and to yell like crazy.”

  He looked at her from under the brim of his hat. “It was kind of nice having somebody cheering for us.”

  “I enjoyed cheering for the two best ropers out there.” The best looking, too, but she kept that to herself. “Theresa cheered, too.”

  “I know, but . . .” He lowered his head so nothing was visible of his face except the jaw so like his father’s. It tightened before he spoke again. “I never had like a mom to cheer for me before.”

  Fragments of phrases piled up at the tip of her tongue. Oh, Will, you sweet boy . . . any woman with an ounce of sense would be proud to be your mother . . . I am so honored . . . You really like me? She rejected them all in the second of silence before he spoke again.

  “You know she left when I was a baby.”

  “Yes.”

  “She didn’t even wait until I was weaned. Cows do better than that with their calves.”

  Oh, Will. Her heart constricted painfully, bringing hot tears to her eyes.

  “Dad doesn’t think I know about that. But I do. And I know she went off with some guy from Texas. Guess she didn’t want to stick around and take care of a kid when she could go back to the city.”

  “Will,” she said as gently as she could, “that was her problem, and her loss. You’re a terrific kid—a terrific person.”

  He shrugged and gave a bob of his head that she translated as skepticism. He found something of great interest in the direction of the mountains visible above the grandstand as he asked, “You’re really leaving Monday?”

  “Yes.” What choice did she have?

  “He likes you.” No doubt who he was.

  “I like him, too.” She swallowed the understatement. “We’ve had a good time.”

  “No, I mean he really likes you. He watches you when he doesn’t think anybody’s noticing and—and he smiles
more when you’re around.”

  “Does he?” She heard the wistfulness in her voice and had to blink to keep it from being joined by tears. “Knowing you and your father has made this trip truly special for me. But now it’s time for me to leave.”

  “I guess that’s what women do—they leave.”

  If he’d put all the power of his broadening shoulders and work-muscled arm behind a punch to her stomach it wouldn’t have hit her as hard.

  “Oh, Will.”

  He shrugged. “My mother did it. Grandma did it when Dad was a kid. And now you are, too. Guess that’s just what happens.”

  “No, Will, that isn’t just what happens. I don’t know why your mother left, except it had to be something inside her, not anything to do with you or your dad. And with your grandmother, I’m sure it’s not because she didn’t love him—or doesn’t love him now. It’s much more complex than that, and it’s something I hope they’ll work out soon. For both their sakes. As for me, your father and I have known from the start that I’d be leaving this Monday. Sometimes, with grown-ups, that’s the way it’s meant to be. That’s the way they want it.”

  He leveled at her a devastatingly disbelieving look.

  “Sure.”

  He might have said more if Dax and Theresa hadn’t returned then, but he’d said enough. He thought she’d handed him a line of bull.

  And he was right.

  Because she didn’t want to leave.

  * * * *

  Saturday afternoon, she, Dax and Will watched the pro rodeo. Will left before the last events to walk to June’s house where he would change into the good clothes he’d left there earlier in the day.

  Hannah and Dax stayed at the fairgrounds, with plans first to see off Will on his big evening and then to meet up with the Westons, Jessa and Cully for dinner and the fireworks.

  They had continued the attitude started yesterday. By tacit agreement, they didn’t refer to departure or their agreement to keep things platonic or the decidedly unplatonic end of their date a week ago. Even though the same heat hummed along through her blood at every touch, accidental or not.