by Diana Palmer
“I’ll have to think about it,” she told him, nodding. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, either.
He pursed his lips. “You know, we’re looking at other land in the area, too. You might get left out in the cold if we find someone who’s more enthusiastic about the price we’re offering.”
Maddie didn’t like threats. Even nice ones, that came with soft words and smiles.
“Whatever,” she said. She smiled again. “I did say I’d have to think about it.”
His smile faded, and his eyes narrowed. “You have a prime location here, only one close neighbor and a nearby interstate. I really want this place. I want it a lot.”
“Listen, I hate being pressured...!”
He held up both hands. “Okay! But you think about it. You think hard.” His expression became dangerous-looking. “We know how to deal with reluctant buyers. That’s not a threat, it’s just a statement. Here’s my card.”
She took it gingerly, as if she thought it had germs.
He made a huffing sound and climbed back into his fantastically expensive foreign car. He roared out of the driveway, scattering chickens.
She glared after it. No more eggs for two more days, she thought irritably. She’d rather starve than sell the ranch. But money was getting very tight. The drought was going to be a major hit to their poor finances, she thought dismally.
“Miss Maddie, you got that rooster locked up?” Ben called at the fence, interrupting her depressing reverie.
She turned. “Yes, Ben, he’s restrained.” She laughed.
“Thanks.” He grimaced. “Going to feed the livestock and I’d just as soon not be mauled in the process.”
“I know.” She glanced at the wire door behind which Pumpkin was calling to the hens in that odd tone that roosters used when there was some special treat on the ground for them. It was actually a handful of mealworms that Maddie had tossed in the henhouse to keep him occupied while she locked him in.
Two of the hens went running to the door.
“He’s lying,” Maddie told them solemnly. “He’s already eaten the mealworms, he just wants out.”
“Cort left town, you hear?” Ben asked.
Her heart jumped. “Where did he go?” she asked miserably, waiting to hear that he’d flown to Italy to see Odalie.
“Wyoming, one of his cowboys said, to see his sister.”
“Oh.”
“Mooning over that Odalie girl, I guess,” he muttered. “She said she hated men who smelled like cattle. I guess she hates her dad, then, because he made his fortune on the Big Spur raising cattle, and he still does!”
“She’s just been spoiled,” Maddie said quietly.
Ben glanced at her irritably. “She was mean to you when you were in school. Your dad actually went to the school to get it stopped. He went to see Cole Everett about it, too, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” She flushed. She didn’t like remembering that situation, although Odalie had quickly stopped victimizing her after her father got involved.
“Had a nasty attitude, that one,” Ben muttered. “Looked down her nose at every other girl and most of the boys. Thought she was too good to live in a hick town in Texas.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s going to come a cropper one day, you mark my words. What’s that quote, ‘pride goeth after a fall’? And she’s got a lot farther to fall than some women.”
“There’s another quote, something about love your enemies?” she teased.
“Yes, well, she’s given a lot of people reason to put that one into practice.”
Maddie grimaced. “It must be nice, to have beauty and talent. I’d settle for one or the other myself.” She laughed.
“You ought to be selling them little fairy statues you make,” he advised. “Prettiest little things I ever saw. That one you sent my granddaughter for her birthday sits in the living room, because her mother loves to look at it. One of her friends has an art gallery in San Antonio. She said,” he emphasized, “that you could make a fortune with those things.”
Maddie flushed. “Wow.”
“Not that those pretty drawings are bad, either. Sold one to Shelby Brannt, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She’d loved the idea of Cort having to see her artwork every day, because she knew that Shelby had mounted it on a wall in the dining room of her home. But he probably never even looked at it. Though cultured, Cort had little use for art or sculpture. Unless it was a sculpture of one of the ranch’s prize bulls. They had one done in bronze. It sat on the mantel in the living room of the Brannt home.
“Ought to paint that rooster while he’s still alive,” Ben said darkly.
“Ben!”
He held up both hands. “Didn’t say I was going to hurt him.”
“Okay.”
“But somebody else might.” He pursed his lips. “You know, he could be the victim of a terrible traffic accident one day. He loves to run down that dirt road in front of the house.”
“You bite your tongue,” she admonished.
“Spoilsport.”
“That visitor who came the other day, that developer, you see him again?” Ben asked curiously.
“No, but he left his name.” She pulled his business card out of her pocket and held it up. “He’s from Las Vegas. He wants to build a hotel and amusement park complex right here.” She looked around wistfully. “Offered me a million dollars. Gosh, what I could do with that!”
“You could sell and throw away everything your family worked for here?” Ben asked sadly. “My great-grandfather started working here with your great-grandfather. Our families have been together all that time.” He sighed. “Guess I could learn to use a computer and make a killing with a dot-com business,” he mused facetiously.
“Aw, Ben,” she said gently. “I don’t want to sell up. I was just thinking out loud.” She smiled, and this time it was genuine. “I’d put a lot of people out of work, and God knows what I’d do with all the animals who live here.”
“Especially them fancy breeding bulls and cows,” he replied. “Cort Brannt would love to get his hands on them. He’s always over here buying our calves.”
“So he is.”
Ben hesitated. “Heard something about that developer, that Archie Lawson fellow.”
“You did? What?”
“Just gossip, mind.”
“So? Tell me!” she prodded.
He made a face. “Well, he wanted a piece of land over around Cheyenne, on the interstate. The owner wouldn’t sell. So cattle started dying of mysterious causes. So did the owner’s dog, a big border collie he’d had for years. He hired a private investigator, and had the dog autopsied. It was poison. They could never prove it was Lawson, but they were pretty sure of it. See, he has a background in chemistry. Used to work at a big government lab, they say, before he started buying and selling land.”
Her heart stopped. “Oh, dear.” She bit her lip. “He said something about knowing how to force deals...”
“I’ll get a couple of my pals to keep an eye on the cattle in the outer pastures,” Ben said. “I’ll tell them to shoot first and ask questions later if they see anybody prowling around here.”
“Thanks, Ben,” she said heavily. “Good heavens, as if we don’t already have enough trouble here with no rain, for God knows how long.”
“Everybody’s praying for it.” He cocked his head. “I know a Cheyenne medicine man. Been friends for a couple of years. They say he can make rain.”
“Well!” She hesitated. “What does he charge?”
“He doesn’t. He says he has these abilities that God gave him, and if he ever takes money for it, he’ll lose it. Seems to believe it, and I hear he’s made rain at least twice in the area. If things go from bad to worse, maybe we should talk to him.”
She grinned. “Let’s talk to him.”
He chuckled. “I’ll give him a call later.”
Her eyebrows arched. “He has a telephone?”
“Miss Maddie,” he scoffed, �
�do you think Native American people still live in teepees and wear headdresses?”
She flushed. “Of course not,” she lied.
“He lives in a house just like ours, he wears jeans and T-shirts mostly and he’s got a degree in anthropology. When he’s not fossicking, they say he goes overseas with a group of mercs from Texas for top secret operations.”
She was fascinated. “Really!”
“He’s something of a local celebrity on the rez. He lives there.”
“Could you call him and ask him to come over when he has time?”
He laughed. “I’ll do that tonight.”
“Even if he can’t make rain, I’d love to meet him,” she said. “He sounds very interesting.”
“Take my word for it, he is. Doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s worth hearing. Well, I’ll get back to work.”
“Thanks, Ben.”
He smiled. “My pleasure. And don’t let that developer bully you,” he said firmly. “Maybe you need to talk to Cort’s dad and tell him what’s going on. He’s not going to like that, about the development. It’s too close to his barns. In these hard times, even the Brannts couldn’t afford to build new ones with all that high tech they use.”
“Got a point. I’ll talk to him.”
Maddie went back to the house. She put the feed basket absently on the kitchen counter, mentally reviewing all the things she had planned for the week. She missed Cort already. But at least it meant the rooster was likely to stay at home. He only went over to the Brannt ranch when Cort was in residence, to attack him.
“Better wash those eggs and put them in the refrigerator,” Great-Aunt Sadie advised. “They’re the ones for the restaurant, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Old Mr. Bailey said his customers have been raving about the taste of his egg omelets lately.” She laughed. “I’ll have to give my girls a treat for that.”
Great-Aunt Sadie was frowning. “Maddie, did you ever look up the law about selling raw products?”
Maddie shook her head. “I meant to. But I’m sure it’s not illegal to sell eggs. My mother did it for years before she died....”
“That was a long time ago, honey. Don’t you remember that raid a few years ago on those poor farmers who were selling raw milk?” She made a face. “What sort of country do we live in? Sending an armed raid team after helpless farmers for selling milk!”
Maddie felt uneasy. “I’d forgotten that.”
“I hadn’t. In my day we had homemade butter and we could drink all the raw milk we wanted—didn’t have all this fancy stuff a hundred years ago and it seems to me people were a whole lot healthier.”
“You weren’t here a hundred years ago,” Maddie pointed out with a grin. “Anyway, the government’s not going to come out here and attack me for selling a few eggs!”
She did look on the internet for the law pertaining to egg production and found that she was in compliance. In fact, there were even places in the country licensed to sell raw milk. She’d have to tell Great-Aunt Sadie about that, she mused. Apparently armed teams weren’t raiding farms out west.
* * *
MEANWHILE, A DAY later, she did call King Brannt. She was hesitant about it. Not only was he Cort’s father, he had a reputation in the county for being one tough customer, and difficult to get along with. He had a fiery temper that he wasn’t shy about using. But the developer’s determination to get the Lane ranch could have repercussions. A lot of them.
She picked up the phone and dialed the ranch.
The housekeeper answered.
“Could I speak to King Brannt, please?” she asked. “It’s Maddie Lane.”
There was a skirl of laughter. “Yes, you’ve got a rooster named Pumpkin.”
Maddie laughed. “Is he famous?”
“He is around here,” the woman said. “Cort isn’t laughing, but the rest of us are. Imagine having a personal devil in the form of a little red rooster! We’ve been teasing Cort that he must have done something terrible that we don’t know about.”
Maddie sighed. “I’m afraid Pumpkin has it in for Cort. See, he picked him up by the feet and showed him to my girls, my hens, I mean, and hurt his pride. That was when he started looking for Cort.”
“Oh, I see. It’s vengeance.” She laughed again. “Nice talking to you, I’ll go get Mr. Brannt. Take just a minute...”
Maddie held on. Her gaze fell on one of her little fairy statues. It was delicate and beautiful; the tiny face perfect, lovely, with sculpted long blond hair, sitting on a stone with a butterfly in its hand. It was a new piece, one she’d just finished with the plastic sculpture mix that was the best on the market. Her egg money paid for the materials. She loved the little things and could never bear to sell one. But she did wonder if there was a market for such a specialized piece.
“Brannt,” a deep voice said curtly.
She almost jumped. “Mr. Brannt? It’s... I mean I’m Maddie Lane. I live on the little ranch next door to yours,” she faltered.
“Hi, Maddie,” he said, and his voice lost its curt edge and was pleasant. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got sort of a situation over here. I wanted to tell you about it.”
“What’s wrong? Can we help?”
“That’s so nice of you.” She didn’t add that she’d been told some very scary things about his temper. “It’s this developer. He’s from Las Vegas...”
“Yes. Archie Lawson. I had him investigated.”
“He’s trying to get me to sell my ranch to him. I don’t want to. This ranch has been in my family for generations. But he’s very pushy and he made some threats.”
“He’s carried them out in the past,” King said, very curtly. “But you can be sure I’m not going to let him hurt you or your cattle herd. I’ll put on extra patrols on the land boundary we share, and station men at the cabin out there. We use it for roundup, but it’s been vacant for a week or so. I’ll make sure someone’s there at all times, and we’ll hook up cameras around your cattle herd and monitor them constantly.”
“You’d do that for me?” she faltered. “Cameras. It’s so expensive.” She knew, because in desperation she’d looked at them and been shocked at the prices for even a cheap system.
“I’d do that for you,” he replied. “You have one of the finest breeding herds I know of, which is why we buy so many of your young bulls.”
“Why, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You see, it’s looking out for our interests as well as yours. I can’t have a complex so close to my barns, or my purebred herd. The noise of construction would be bad enough, but the constant traffic would injure production.”
“Yes, I know what you mean.”
“Besides that, Lawson is unscrupulous. He’s got his fingers in lots of dirty pies. He’s had several brushes with the law, too.”
“I’m not surprised. He was a little scary.”
“Don’t you worry. If he comes back and makes any threat at all, you call over here. If you can’t find me, talk to Cort. He’ll take care of it.”
She hesitated. “Actually Cort isn’t speaking to me right now.”
There was a pause. “Because of the rooster?” His voice was almost smiling.
“Actually because I made a nasty crack about Odalie Everett,” she confessed heavily. “I didn’t mean to. He made me mad. I guess he was justified to complain. Pumpkin is really mean to him.”
“So I heard. That rooster has had brushes with several of our cowboys.” She could tell that he was trying not to laugh.
“The man who sold him to me said he was real gentle and wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s sort of true. I’ve never seen Pumpkin hurt a fly.” She laughed. “Just people.”
“You need a gentle rooster, especially if you’re going to be selling eggs and baby chicks.”
“The baby chick operation is down the road, but I’m doing well with my egg business.”
“Glad to hear it. Our housekeeper wants to get on
your customer list, by the way.”
“I’ll talk to her, and thanks!”
He chuckled. “My pleasure.”
“If Mr. Lawson comes back, I’ll let you know.”
“Please do. The man is trouble.”
“I know. Thanks again, Mr. Brannt. I feel better now.”
“Your dad was a friend of mine,” he said quietly. “I miss him. I know you do, too.”
“I miss him a lot,” she said. “But Great-Aunt Sadie and I are coping. It’s just this ranching thing,” she added miserably. “Dad was good at it, he had charts in the barn, he knew which traits to breed for, all that technical stuff. He taught me well, but I’m not as good as he was at it. Not at all. I like to paint and sculpt.” She hesitated. “Creative people shouldn’t have to breed cattle!” she burst out.
He laughed. “I hear you. Listen, suppose I send Cort over there to help you with the genetics? He’s even better at it than I am. And I’m good. No conceit, just fact.”
She laughed, too. “You really are. We read about your bulls in the cattle journals.” She paused. “I don’t think Cort would come.”
“He’ll come.” He sounded certain of it. “He needs something to take his mind off that woman. She’s a sweet girl, in her way, but she’s got some serious growing up to do. She thinks the world revolves around her. It doesn’t.”
“She’s just been a little spoiled, I think.” She tried to be gracious.
“Rotten,” he replied. “My kids never were.”
“You and Mrs. Brannt did a great job with yours. And John Everett is a really nice man. So the Everetts did a great job there, too.” She didn’t mention the second Everett son, Tanner. The Everetts never spoke about him. Neither did anyone else. He was something of a mystery man. But gossip was that he and his dad didn’t get along.
“They did a great job on John, for sure.” He let out a breath. “I just wish Cort would wake up. Odalie is never going to settle in a small community. She’s meant for high society and big cities. Cort would die in a high-rise apartment. He’s got too much country in him, although he’d jump at the chance if Odalie would offer him one. Just between us,” he added quietly, “I hope she doesn’t. If she makes it in opera, and I think she can, what would Cort do with himself while she trained and performed? He’d be bored out of his mind. He doesn’t even like opera. He likes country-western.”