An Unlikely Rancher

by Roz Denny Fox

He loaded Beezer and drove out, still contemplating why that was, when he’d sworn to himself and everyone he knew that he was going to remain a bachelor forever.

  Forcing his mind to other things, he mulled over what Barney had said. Instead of going to the airpark straightaway, he detoured to the VA clinic.

  Parking, he clipped on Beezer’s leash and got out. The closer he got to the door the more hyper he felt. Entering the familiar space he watched the hustle and bustle of lab-coated doctors and uniformed nurses going in and out of examining rooms. His throat closed and he dropped Beezer’s leash. Consumed by jitters, he backed out the door as another patient walked in.

  Catching his breath, he rescued Beezer.

  “Okay,” he said as he returned the dog to his seat. “I need to read up on white-coat syndrome.”

  Driving to the airpark, he’d calmed down by the time he got there and unlocked his office.

  The fax from his insurance agent had arrived. Kicking back, he returned the calls on his answering machine—inquiries asking about lessons.

  “I still have work to do on my runways,” he told both callers, but he invited them to the air show.

  Antsy again, he left the office and wandered through the hangars. It wasn’t until he stared up at one of his planes that he admitted he’d put off firing up his computer.

  He was afraid if it turned out he didn’t have white-coat syndrome that whatever did ail him would ground him for good.

  But he’d never been a coward, so he went back to the office. After Beezer flopped down at his feet, he started a search and got deep into reading about white-coat hypertension.

  The recommendation to live with it wasn’t an option. His flight physical had to be signed by an FAA-approved MD.

  So he typed in alternatives to blood-pressure medicine. Voilà! There were holistic remedies. He wrote down one, hoping it was available without driving to Albuquerque.

  “If this works I owe Barney a high five and a six-pack.”

  Flynn left his office when he heard the deep drone of a B-17 overhead. It was the first of the historic fleet to arrive. A thrill shot through him.

  Even as he watched the big plane circle twice before setting down on his longest runway, a van pulled in. Its side panels bore the logo of the foundation that owned the planes. A tall, lanky man stepped out.

  “Hi. I’m looking for Flynn Sutton.”

  “You found him.”

  “Ah, good. I’m Russell Tolliver.”

  The men shook hands.

  “You have a sweet facility. No mountains. No close power lines. Lots of parking. Perfect site for our show. My brother, Hank, is bringing in the flying fortress. Would you like a close-up before we head back to Albuquerque to ferry in the Liberator?”

  Flynn grinned. “Like a kid wants into a candy store.” He put Beezer back into the office to the dog’s displeasure, then fell in beside the other man.

  The sun had begun to set before three strangers who needed nothing in common but the love of planes quit talking about a flagship of the WWII Strategic Bombing Fleet. By then Flynn had sat as a bombardier would have and stood in the spot of a waist gunner.

  “Watching you land, I couldn’t help thinking those pilots were sitting ducks compared to the F-15s I flew,” Flynn remarked on the walk back.

  “Maybe so,” Hank Tolliver said, waiting for his brother to unlock the van. “I think of the people below seeing thirty or so of those babies ready to drop their payload.”

  “For sure. I can’t wait to see the other planes. Are you the only pilot ferrying them?”

  “No. Tomorrow I’ll drop off a list of our crew.” Russell glanced back at the plane, a dark silhouette in the fading light. “What’s your security?”

  Flynn gave a start. “The sheriff said he’d handle it. I’ll give him a call and make sure he has someone canvassing the area.” His thoughts went to his tires.

  When the others left, he phoned Sheriff Denton immediately. It was only after he hung up that he realized he hadn’t mentioned the latest vandalism at the ranch. Should he have? He chewed that over as he and Beezer headed home.

  He dismissed the thought as he turned down Jenna’s lane. Light shone from her kitchen windows. Unlike his hesitancy to go right in the other time he’d showed up late, he used his key. As before, Jenna sat alone at the kitchen table.

  She raised her head and smiled.

  Flynn returned her smile.

  This homey contentment was something he hadn’t let himself want. Hadn’t realized he needed.

  “The coffee’s fresh,” Jenna said. “If you didn’t eat I can warm up some leftover tuna noodle casserole.”

  “Don’t get up. I’ll fix a plate. Where’s Andee?” he asked, noticing Beezer padding aimlessly, whining.

  “I wore her out today. She met some kids her age at the library and we all ended up at the elementary school’s swings. Andee practically fell asleep in her plate.”

  The dog figured out on his own where to find Andee. They heard him pad through the living room, woof and then the creak of the bed under his weight.

  They traded smiles while Flynn spooned out some of the casserole.

  “What do you think of the city’s offer for your hou—uh, my house?” Jenna asked.

  “I didn’t look at it.”

  “It seems all right. I checked comparisons on a housing website. Considering it needs a five-to eight-thousand-dollar AC, I guess the offer is in line.”

  “Dayton Hines said he can get them an AC wholesale. You could counter upward.” Flynn removed his steaming plate from the microwave, poured coffee and sat next to her. He thought it was telling that she didn’t shy away. “Did they break out a price for your furnishings?”

  She nodded. “For as fast as they put this together, everything seems in order.”

  “But...?”

  “Because they did it so quickly, am I being hustled?”

  Flynn swallowed a bite, then said, “You said the price looks fair. Bud Rhodes wrote the contract. He knows our real-estate market. The mayor and others just want the homeless to quit camping in the city park.”

  “So do the mothers I met today. They’re uneasy. They say families no longer picnic at the park. Of course, no one lets their kids go there to play. But they sure were excited about the carnival coming to town.”

  “And the first historic plane landed at my airfield today. It’s a beauty.”

  “So soon? Aren’t there two weeks to Pancho Villa Days?”

  “A week and a half.” Flynn touched her arm. “I learned about alternative therapies for white-coat syndrome from Barney today. I’m going to buy fruit powder tomorrow and start taking it.”

  “Fruit powder, huh?”

  “I mean, what do I have to lose?”

  “Do you have to fly to teach?”

  He chuckled and gestured with his fork. “Would you take flying lessons from someone who couldn’t demonstrate how?”

  “I wouldn’t take flying lessons period. I moved here to get away from air bases and naval air stations.”

  “Ouch! Where does that leave me?”

  She studied him with a troubled expression and he felt a chill.

  “You’re an enigma, Flynn. Don’t get me wrong...I like that you’re here. I feel safe. I like how you admitted to changing your mind about Don Winkleman. It was big of you. Andee’s crazy about you and I’m...torn,” she said carefully. “I feel things I shouldn’t.”

  “Shh.” Flynn held a finger to her lips. “You’re making it too hard. I’m not asking you to suddenly love airplanes.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Listen, I’m signing it as is,” she declared, pulling away from his touch.

  Flynn watched her gather the papers and leave the kitchen.

 
CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JENNA WOKE EARLY and once again felt buoyed by hope and promise. She had money from the sale of the chicks to bank, and if the city bought the house, she could quit worrying about the AC. If and when the sale came to fruition, she’d owe Flynn for suggesting she cut her losses on the second property.

  Flynn had played a large part in that. Who was she kidding? He’d played a large part in her life recently.

  She fairly danced into the kitchen to flip on the coffeemaker and begin her chores for the day.

  Admitting out loud to having feelings for him she didn’t think she should feel had actually opened her mind to thinking she might be ready for a relationship. This morning in the warm light of day, it didn’t seem wrong to risk her heart again.

  Neither one of them had been looking to meet a significant someone. Oh, but perhaps she’d read too much into what she saw as progress between them. As Flynn suggested last night, maybe she was thinking too much, making them...this...difficult. Melody always told her she overthought things.

  There was no denying how glad she’d been that Andee’s call to thank her aunt yesterday had gone to voice mail. Andee wouldn’t have held back about not only her broken arm but also Beezer and Flynn.

  Hopefully, by the time Mel slowed down enough for them to talk in person, Jenna would be more comfortable explaining Flynn and his dog’s arrival in their lives.

  For the time being, though, she had other thoughts to occupy her. Jenna poured a mug of coffee and went out to gather eggs.

  She’d put half in refrigeration and half in the incubators, she decided. Egg production had been up the past few gatherings in spite of earlier disruptions to the birds.

  This morning as she watched some of the hens fluff out their feathers to shade the chicks Barney had turned into the pens, Jenna was glad she hadn’t sold Don Winkleman all of the babies.

  Who would’ve thought from their inauspicious beginning that they’d end up having good business dealings?

  Since he swore he hadn’t opened the gates and freed her birds—and she believed him—then who had?

  Being targeted for sabotage left her feeling uneasy and vulnerable. And jumpy, being out here alone with the birds.

  With the last eggs stored, Jenna locked the sheds and retrieved her now-cold coffee. Before she returned to the house for a warm-up, she walked to the end of the pens and theorized how best to extend them to house alpacas.

  She had the land to build out in a straight line. But it would be cozier and easier to care for the birds and animals if she added on at a right angle.

  At Peggy’s alpaca farm she’d had some beautiful old shade trees. All Jenna currently had on her property were creosote bushes, a few honey mesquite and sundry cacti like yucca. On the drive in from the East, she’d seen fields of chili peppers and some orchards of pecans. Come to think of it, big old pecan trees may have been what Peggy Johnson had. But buying trees of any size would cost more than new pens. Since she planned to live here a long time, she could plant smaller trees. Until they grew she’d still need to install canvas ramadas.

  She turned back to the house with a clearer idea of an end result.

  Steps away from the house, she saw Flynn come out onto the porch. His sun-kissed blond hair still looked damp. But he always looked so put-together even when he wore an olive-green flight suit, as he did today.

  Flynn did his own laundry; she’d seen his flight suits and shirts hanging in the laundry room. Andrew had always sent everything he owned to the dry cleaner’s. Her friends on base used to think she was lucky. Many of them hated to iron the requisite creases in their husband’s uniforms.

  Somehow, seeing Flynn’s things hanging in her laundry room evoked a sense of domestic bliss.

  “Hey, there, I was just coming to find you,” he called, stopping at the edge of the porch. “Andee’s up. I helped her finish dressing. But she wants ribbons in her hair. That is above my pay grade,” he said, laughing.

  “I thought I’d get through chores before she woke up. You should have yelled for me.” Jenna drew even with him.

  “Why? Since her arm is in a cast, it seemed a logical request.”

  “But she’s my responsibility.” Jenna saw Flynn’s gaze lower to her mouth, which caused her to get weak in the knees.

  They stood for a few seconds locked in awareness, until Jenna sucked in a sharp breath and Flynn hurriedly opened the door to let her pass.

  Beezer charged out of the laundry room yipping.

  “Hi, Mommy,” Andee called, dripping milk off the spoon she waved through the air. Jenna thought it was almost funny how quickly the momentary flame of passion was extinguished by the ordinary world.

  “I want ribbons in my hair like Keisha had yesterday.”

  Jenna stopped in the process of adding hot coffee to her mug. “Honey, we don’t have that many ribbons. And I don’t have Mrs. Taylor’s talent to give you so many tiny braids.”

  “But her hair looked like a rainbow of ribbons.”

  Jenna smiled. “Next time we see them, you’ll have to tell her mom that.”

  “Can we all play at the school again today?”

  “Not today. I have several errands to run. Maybe next week after your story hour.”

  “Can I still have ribbons today?”

  Jenna met Flynn’s eyes over top of Andee’s head. She couldn’t resist rolling her eyes.

  “I have to go. You ladies enjoy your day.” Flynn refilled his travel mug with coffee and tapped Jenna’s nose on his way to the door.

  “What?” she teased. “You don’t want to stick around and learn how to braid hair and tie ribbons? Mouse,” she accused as Flynn collected Beezer.

  Tossing back his head, Flynn gave a hearty laugh.

  It had been years since she and Andrew had bantered like this. Certainly not the last three years, she thought with sadness.

  By then Flynn and his dog were outside and he’d closed the screen door. Then he stuck his head back into the kitchen. “If you ladies are going to get all gussied up, that calls for dinner out. I owe you one. Shall we try again? Meet at the café. Six o’clock?”

  “What’s gussied?” Andee asked.

  “Prettied up,” Flynn supplied.

  “Yeah, Mommy. Let’s. I have a dress that is pink like my boots.”

  “How can I say no to that?” Jenna said softly.

  Stepping all the way inside, Flynn dropped a kiss on top of Andee’s head and then did the same to Jenna, making her feel diminutive next to his superior height, and cherished, too. So much so that she dusted a finger across the dimple in his chin.

  Teasingly he nibbled her finger. Or it may have been a kiss, Jenna thought after he disappeared again. She heard him whistling as he trod lightly down the steps. Happiness pulsed through her.

  The feeling stuck with her while she ate toast and yogurt. And while she divided Andee’s hair and wove two neat braids, which she tied off with pink satin ribbons.

  Barney arrived and Jenna left Andee playing with her dollhouse. “After you’re done seeding the empty pen, would you be able to go price the materials we’d need for three new pens? Could you and I build a setup like the one that’s already here? Or do I need to pay a fence company for labor, too?”

  “I’d like to help you save money, and they do rent posthole diggers. But a lot of this ground is like cement. I’m not a young dude any longer,” he said as if it pained him to admit it.

  “So would you be able to find a couple of quotes for labor? If their fees are by the hour or a flat charge?”

  “Sure. I’ll see if they’ll give you a discount if they bid the whole job from delivery to setting posts, stretching wire, on through hanging gates. I can muscle them a little.”

  Jenna tried to scrutinize him from a salesman�
�s perspective. He was a big man with a lived-in face. Sometimes, like today, he was clean-shaven except for a droopy mustache. Other times he didn’t shave at all. His longish graying hair, the part not covered by a skull-tied bandanna, looked brassy in the sunlight. The total package put Jenna to mind of Hulk Hogan. She could well imagine a stranger thinking he was the type to use muscle.

  “Don’t act too tough. I doubt there are a lot of fence companies in the vicinity. We don’t want them turning us down. In fact, if you think it’s a good deal, have them call me. I want to get this done as soon as possible.”

  “Hard hit as the local economy’s been, there’s no danger of anyone refusing a job.”

  A big hawk careened overhead. Ostrich hens scuttled around until all of the baby chicks were shielded. The males strutted back and forth until the predator left.

  Jenna slowly let out her breath. Her chicks were safe. But the hawk was beautiful. She hoped he found a field mouse. She parted from Barney and went in to do a load of laundry before rounding up Andee to head off on errands.

  She sat in the car when it dawned on her that she should have asked Flynn if he’d like her to pick up the fruit powder he wanted to try to lower his blood pressure. Their small town might not have it, and her first stop was at her bank in the larger city of Las Cruces.

  Digging out her cell, she punched in Flynn’s number. He answered on the first ring. “Hi, it’s Jenna. I’m off to my new bank and wondered if you’d like me to see if I can find a health-food store that carries the fruit powder you told me about last evening.”

  “That’d be great if it doesn’t put you out. I may not be able to get away. The air-show folks brought in two more planes. The crew wants to meet, so we’ll all know the schedule for refueling, how many passengers fit in each plane, and so everyone has the rules for safety. They brought their own rope fencing to cordon off the planes, but I’ll help them set up observation areas.”

  “You sound excited.”

  “I am. I’ve visited a couple of air museums. I’ve never seen takeoffs or landings of historic planes. And to actually get to fly in one or take the throttle of one is a rare treat.”