After crossing the cow pen to a wide stock gate that opened into the pasture, she glanced over and saw Jeremy watching her, which sent a little rush of adrenaline through her. Turning back to the gate, she opened it wide and said to Diesel, "Okay boy. Bring them in."
Diesel immediately took off, but instead of chasing the cows, the cows grouped together in a herd, and when Dolly, the lead cow, took off after Diesel, the rest of the cows loped along behind like a swarm of bees following a queen. For a while Diesel led them on a merry chase, running first in one direction, then looping around and leading them in the opposite direction before running in a wide circle around the perimeter of the pasture and back to make a figure eight before heading straight through the open gate. Once the cows were in the pen, Billy closed the stock gate, and said to Diesel, "Good boy," and gave him a dried pig's ear.
After graining the cows, she joined Jeremy at the chutes. He'd already cut up a stack of boards that appeared to match the length of the boards he'd removed from the first chute, and he was in the process of nailing on the new boards. Stopping what he was doing as she approached, he stood, dropped his hammer into a leather loop on his tool belt, and draping his hands on his hips, said to her, "The dog is an interesting herder. Did you train him to lead the cows in?"
"No, he trained himself," Billy said. "It's the best way I know to exercise the stock. Some breeders hook their bulls up to walkers, but since I can't afford one, I just turn the bulls out into the pasture so they can graze and buck and play, and after a while, I tell Diesel to bring them in and that gets the job of exercising the bulls done without a whole lot of hassle. The bulls learned what the game was all about from watching the cows."
Jeremy eyed Diesel, who was crouched on his belly, chewing the last of the pig's ear, and said, "Did you find his dog tag? There's no record on file of a Rottweiler. If he strays off and starts running with livestock he could get himself shot."
"He never leaves here, and I'll find his tag," Billy said.
She picked up a board and handed it to Jeremy, who slipped the hammer from his belt, took the board from her, and crouched to continue. "So," he said, as he nailed the board to the chute frame, "how did you come to find this place? Matt Kincaid, the owner of the ranch where I live, said the property was abandoned a few years back. Word going around at the time was that it was a write-off for a mobster, and when the Feds caught up with him the IRS took the property for back taxes. A neighboring rancher wanted to buy the place but the property was tied up in court and he thought the family of the mobster might still own it and didn't want to get involved."
Billy felt another shot of adrenaline, but for a very different reason, as she primed herself for answering a barrage of questions about a background that didn't exist. She'd done it before, and it was getting easier now, but she still found herself stumbling some, like trying to explain how she came into possession of a ranch that could be exactly as Jeremy described. But Mario Moretti's tentacles spread out far and wide. He knew everybody and anybody who was in the mob. He knew their habits, and where they were, and what they did, and even how they thought, so if the place had been owned by a mobster, Moretti would have known.
Focusing on her practiced answer to the question, she said, "A friend who knew I was looking for a place where I could raise bucking bulls saw it on Craigslist and gave me the phone number. I was a little concerned about buying property that way, so I had a lawyer check over the papers to make sure it was legitimate, and it was." Handing Jeremy another board, she added, "Once the house is painted inside and out it will be a decent place to live."
Jeremy wasn't wearing his hat and it was the first time she'd noticed that he had nice hair, the kind of hair women would like to have, dark, and shiny, and just curly enough to hold a wave, the kind of hair that might feel nice running through fingers. Which was a reminder that a slew of buckle bunnies had probably done just that.
"You look pissed," Jeremy said. "Did I say something wrong?"
Billy realized she was frowning, but she found the thought of women running their fingers through Jeremy's hair disturbing, even though she had no intention of becoming involved with him. "I was thinking about what all it will take to get the house ready for painting."
Jeremy stood and looked toward the house. "It won't do any good to paint it if the roof leaks and rain runs down the inside walls. That roof is so old, it needs to be stripped to the rafters and sheathed with new plywood before reroofing."
Billy looked toward the house. "If I win the lottery I'll put it at the top of my list. Well, maybe below the foundation work needed on the barn, and buying more livestock panels so I can separate the bulls for feeding, and jacking up the front porch on the house so I can close it in for a mud room, and putting a new roof on that." She signed, just thinking of all that work.
Jeremy braced his hands on his hips, and continuing to stare at the house, he said, "I suppose I could strip off the worst of the old shingles on the main roof and patch it with new ones to get you through the winter, but next summer you'd better start thinking about a replacement. The barn's solid enough and would go another hundred years with some foundation work and a new roof, but if I owned the place I'd bulldoze the house and start over."
Billy looked at Jeremy with misgiving. Repairing the chutes, and replacing the wiring and adding a circuit box, and offering to strip off the old roof shingles and replace them with new… He seemed determined to stick around, and she wondered why. Paying the ten-dollar fee each, to ride a few bulls, was a lot cheaper than spending hours of his time making repairs to a place that wasn't even his, unless he thought it would get him a ride on Wild Card. "Once I sell a couple of young bulls I'll have the money to get a few things done around here," she said, "but if you want to climb up on the roof and patch it some, that's okay, as long as you understand that—"
"Wild Card is off limits," Jeremy added, with a droll grin.
Billy couldn't help taking note of the grin. It was kinda cute. Jeremy didn't have frown lines on his forehead or around his eyes, or scowl brackets around his mouth. His was the face of a happy man, a man who smiled a lot.
Taking another board off the pile, she handed it to him, while saying, "That's fine if you want to work with the bulls, but for liability reasons I'll need a bullfighter here when you do."
"Don't worry," Jeremy said, while taking the board, "My brother, Josh, looks for reasons to bullfight. He'll come anytime." As he was nailing on the board, which only took about three swings of the hammer per nail, his eyes were on his hammering, but Billy could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere, which he affirmed when he said, "So, you found this place on Craigslist. Where did you live before?"
Billy was tempted to change the subject, but decided to just be done with all the usual getting-to-know-you questions, and she was well prepared for this one. She'd rehearsed it many times, along with the questions that were sure to follow. "Aberdeen, South Dakota. Have you ever been there?" she asked, before continuing with the rest of the fabrication.
Jeremy shook his head. "I competed in the Black Hills Stock Show in Rapid City a couple of times, but that's about it for South Dakota."
"It's nice there," Billy said. "I was born and raised on a small cattle ranch near Aberdeen."
"And your parents are still there?" Jeremy asked.
"No, my mom died when I was a teen, and my father died a few months ago."
"I'm sorry about that," Jeremy said. "How did you get into raising bulls?"
Billy shrugged. "When I was growing up we went to rodeos and I was always fascinated by the bulls and decided I'd raise bucking bulls someday." At least that was true, but in another very different section of the country.
After hammering in another board, Jeremy said, "Since yours was a ranch family, you must have a slew of brothers and sisters. I'm guessing a couple of sisters and three brothers."
"No siblings," Billy replied. "I'm an only child." She felt a surge of anger, followed by a longin
g to go back to a time when things were as they were, not as she held them out to be…
"I have six siblings," Jeremy said. "A lot of times I used to wish I was an only child, but now I'm glad my wish didn't come true. It's good having a big family." Planting another board against the framework and holding it in place with the heel of his hand, while also holding the nail, he said, while hammering, "So, why did you decide to leave all your friends and family and move a thousand miles away from home?"
Billy knew it was an innocent question on Jeremy's part, but it made her choke up some. She looked over to find him watching, like he wanted more than just a quick answer. Like he wanted the truth. Which, of course, was her imagination. Often she'd find herself reading ulterior motives into people's reactions.
Reaching for another board, mainly to have a reason to look away from his probing gaze, she said, "I left because of the cold snowy winters. Here, it's drier, so I won't have to worry about animals being up to their bellies in muck."
Jeremy set the hammer aside and walked over to where she was standing, and placing his hand on her shoulder, he said, "You know what I think? I think you moved away from home and you miss your friends and family, and that old man you're taking care of is replacing what you left behind. You and Bill need to come to the Kincaid Ranch and meet Matt and Ruth and their daughter, Annie, who's married to my brother, Ryan. They have a son, Cody, and Josh is there with his wife, Genie, so there's a lot of family."
For some unaccountable reason, tears filled Billy's eyes. Disconcerted, she batted her eyelids while saying, "I need to let the young bulls out to exercise." But when she turned to go, she spotted a black SUV coming up the drive. It pulled to a halt in front of the office, and a tall, dark-haired man in his mid-forties stepped out. He raised his sunglasses slightly and looked around, and catching sight of her with Jeremy, made no move toward them. He was wearing his usual jeans and a black leather jacket that never laid flat because of the shoulder holster and semiautomatic pistol beneath it, and in his hand was a folder, so she knew Mario Moretti had arrived with the fabricated transportation certificates.
CHAPTER 4
"That man's here about maybe buying a bull," Billy explained to Jeremy.
Jeremy eyed the man who had just stepped out of the SUV. What came to mind was someone out of a James Bond movie, a man in control. Although the man wasn't looking directly at them, Jeremy could feel the eyes behind those dark glasses watching. He looked beyond the man and spotted Josh's truck coming up the drive. Josh pulled around the SUV and parked in front of the stock barn. When he got out and started toward them, Jeremy said to Billy, "Josh and I work well together so we should have the chutes finished in a couple of hours."
Before walking off, Billy said, "By the way, I found the folder with the transportation certificates for the stock so I'll be back to show them to you after that man leaves." She headed to where the guy was standing, but as she and Josh passed, they stopped momentarily, and from her gestures, Jeremy assumed she was thanking Josh for helping with the chutes.
After that she walked on, but as she approached the man with the dark glasses, he didn't smile, but instead, turned and opened the door and let himself into the office, like he'd done that before, and Billy followed behind and shut the door.
Josh was still looking back over his shoulder as he approached Jeremy, but then he turned to him and said, "Who the devil is that guy? He looks like a hit man, with the dark glasses and black leather jacket."
Jeremy eyed the closed door to the office. "Billy claims he's here about buying a bull."
Josh let out a short guffaw. "That SUV's shiny and new, like it's never seen a gravel road before, and the man looks like anything but a livestock breeder, though he could be an investor, but this isn't the kind of operation that would attract any serious investors unless it has something to do with that Little Yellow Jacket look-alike in the bull pen."
Jeremy glanced at the bull pen. He too had misgivings about what could be going on, but whatever it was, if it was something underhanded, he was willing to bet that Billy Fitzsimmons was an innocent victim.
"Did you get the report on the bull's brand yet?" Josh asked.
Jeremy shook his head. "I'll have it early next week."
"What will you do if it's a stolen bull?"
"Report it and let the authorities take over from there." Jeremy eyed the closed door to the office while envisioning Billy's face just before the man drove up. Her tear-filled eyes had not been those of a manipulative female. The tears were genuine, and he'd hit on what triggered them; leaving her home and family. Glancing around the place, and thinking it had to be lonely with no one but the old man for company, he said, "I want to bring Billy out to the ranch to meet Matt and Ruth and everyone else."
"Are you nuts?" Josh replied. "She could be involved in a stolen cattle ring."
"I won't bring her out until I'm convinced she's not," Jeremy replied, "but if everything checks out, I'll talk to Ruth about having her over for dinner, and the rest of you could come too. I'll foot the bill."
Josh looked at him in amusement. "As far back as I can remember you've never been a one-woman man, but hanging around to fix chutes for a woman and bringing her home to meet the family's the first sign of the old noose tightening."
"Weren't you listening?" Jeremy said. "I'm talking about bringing her to the Kincaid Ranch, not the Dancing Moon."
"I was listening," Josh said. "You're new at this so I'll explain how it works. First you repair the chutes, then you jack up the barn and square away the foundation, then you patch up the roof on the house, and the first night it rains, you stay over to make sure there aren't any leaks, and when you wake up in her bed the following morning the noose will be a little tighter, and the next thing you know you'll be bringing her home to Mama, and I'm not talking about Mama Ruth at the Kincaid, I'm talking about Mama at the Dancing Moon. You're half sunk already."
"No way," Jeremy said. "I'm doing what any man would do. The place is a mess, she and the old man are alone, and winter's coming." He hadn't really given much thought to winter coming before then, but eyeing the slope of the floor on the front porch, and the sad shape of the roof over it, the whole porch could fall off under a good snow. He'd bring some jacks over the next time he came and at least square the porch away, and maybe when he picked up the circuit box he'd buy a few sheets of plywood for the porch roof and a roll of building paper and few bundles of shingles and a couple of pressure-treated boards for bracing the joists under the porch floor…
Josh smiled. "Yeah, that noose is getting tighter. Meanwhile, we'd better get going on the chutes so you can take over fixing the rest of this place."
Although he hated to bring it up at the moment, because of the obvious implication, Jeremy said, as Josh was fastening his tool belt around his hips, "In return for replacing the old wires in the barn and putting in a circuit box, Billy's letting me ride her older bulls, except for Wild Card, and she wants a bullfighter here when I ride. Are you available?"
Josh looked at him with wry amusement. "Putting a circuit box in the barn in addition to fixing the chutes? Yep, that noose is tightening."
"Yes or no?" Jeremy asked, annoyed.
"I'll never turn down a chance to bullfight," Josh said. "When?"
"Maybe this afternoon. Did you bring your gear?"
"It's always in my truck. Do you have yours?"
Jeremy nodded. "The idea won't be to ride out the eight seconds but for me to dismount when the bulls kick high or spin fast."
"I know about training bulls," Josh said. "You forget I'm planning to go into the business as soon as the chutes and panels for the pens are in. The only reason I'm here today is because the chutes haven't been delivered, so you're on your own after this, which I assume is what you want."
"Okay, I admit Billy interests me," Jeremy said, "but that doesn't mean I won't hang out at the pub some." But as he said the words, it came to him that hanging out at the pub wasn't half as
exciting as rewiring an old barn, or squaring up a porch, or patching up a roof, or placing his hand on the shoulder of a woman who was getting him to do all those things just by looking at him, but looking at him in a different way than buckle bunnies looked at a man. Billy looked at him like she wanted him around for more than just a roll in the camper and the chance to add another championship buckle to her collection, which had him thinking that maybe the long-term alternative wasn't half bad...
Josh grabbed his toolbox. "I give you a month and you'll forget that the pub and all those hot little buckle bunnies exist," he said. "Trust me, I know. I'm just amused it's finally hitting you."
Jeremy said nothing because there could be some truth to what Josh was saying, but he didn't want to admit to Josh that he could be right. It was a twin-sibling pecking order thing. All their lives he'd been claiming top spot because he was first born by five minutes and he didn't want to give Josh the edge over him.
After a couple of hours, they'd replaced all the boards lining the walls of the four chutes, and all they had left to do was repair the gates. He'd brought along enough 2x4s, which he'd use to frame in the old gates after trimming them to size, along with four sets of heavy gauge, galvanized steel hinges to keep the gates square, but eventually Billy would have to invest in a couple of regulation steel bucking chutes with ball-bearing rollers and roller latches. It would be a sizeable investment, but the current chutes were has-beens from what must have been an arena for ranch rodeos a century ago, and they weren't suitable for weekly buckouts.
He did, however, decide to put off building the gates as an excuse to come back the following day, and maybe even get started jacking up the front porch and squaring it away, and after that he'd tear off the old porch roof and put on the plywood sheathing, for starters.
Bucking The Odds (Dancing Moon Ranch Book 9) Page 4