“If it isn’t me, then what is it?” Kittie insisted.
“Just take my word, it isn’t personal.” He hung the pitchfork on the wall and dusted his hands. The kid might not be so odd if her hair wasn’t so weird. And he should be polite—it was what his mom and dad would have expected. “I’m going to see that cow you brought in. You can come if you want.”
Kittie bobbed her head eagerly. “Mariah says she’ll be all right.”
“She ought to be. My sister has a knack with hurt animals.”
“My dad thinks she’s hot,” Kittie said matter-of-factly as she tagged along. “I can tell from the way he checked her out yesterday. He thinks I don’t notice that stuff, but I do.”
Reid didn’t break step. O’Donnell wouldn’t get anywhere with Mariah—the night before he’d overheard his sister telling Grams that he was an obnoxious jerk who thought his money was better than anyone else’s. At any rate, Mariah didn’t go for men wanting a vacation fling. Short-timers were a regular feature at the ranch; they could try hitting on her, but they never got out of the gate.
“Are breasts really that important to guys?” Kittie asked.
That stopped Reid in his tracks. He stared at her, nonplussed. “What?”
“I mean, nobody will date me unless I have bigger boobs. Isn’t that right?”
She looked so miserable that he was doubly at a loss for words. “Uh...well...uh...different guys like different stuff. We’re not all the same.”
It was a lame thing to say and Kittie obviously agreed. “Oh, sure. Some guys prefer brains and personality.”
Reid could have told her she wasn’t doing any better in the brains and personality department, but she’d probably try to scratch his eyes out. He could take her down easily, except Granddad would kick his butt for fighting with a girl and her dad would only make things harder for Mariah.
“You’ve just got to grow...er...up more,” he mumbled, wishing he was on another planet. “You could be like your mom. Do you know when she got...bigger?”
“Not really. She was awful pretty, though, and Dad says I’m like her.” Yet Kittie’s face became glummer. “I don’t know much about my mom ’cept she first got sick in high school. Real sick. They tried to make her better, only it didn’t work or stay that way or something.” All at once Kittie seemed alarmed. “Please don’t tell my dad.”
“About what?” Reid couldn’t think of anything he’d want to tell Kittie’s father, especially about her questions. Honestly, asking how he felt about breasts? The brat didn’t have a lick of sense.
“Nothing. N-nothing I said.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
He headed again for the corral where they’d put the mother and calf. It was in the rear of the far barn where she wouldn’t be upset by too much activity. Range cattle had little contact with humans and didn’t take kindly to being penned at the best of times. True to form, the mother cow grunted and moved in front of her baby, stamping the ground in warning.
Reid ran a practiced gaze over her and the feed box. Her muzzle was wet, so she’d obviously drunk some water. And a portion of the feed had been eaten. Not bad after getting roped, stitched, dosed and confined.
“How is she?” Kittie rested her arms on the top fence rail, the same as him, but she had to stretch to do it.
“Not bad, considering.”
“What would have happened if we never found her?”
Reid thought of the animals they lost each year. Life was hard on the range; he couldn’t sugarcoat it. “Could have died. The baby is too young to survive on its own, and the mother’s wound was infected. But even if you hadn’t located them, someone else would probably have come along.”
Footsteps came from behind them and Reid grimaced at the sight of Kittie’s father. “Mr. O’Donnell.”
“Hello, Reid. I haven’t seen much of you since we got here.” There was a faint emphasis on the I and a hidden query whether another O’Donnell had seen him before now.
Reid tipped his hat back. As if he’d be interested in a city runt with an attitude. “Stands to reason—I’ve been busy and I’m not your wrangler.”
“That sounds like something your sister would say.”
“Yup. Some things run in families.”
O’Donnell flicked a look at Kittie, whose attention was no longer on the mother cow and her calf. “I guess.”
“Dad, am I really, truly like Mom?” Kittie asked intently.
A smile softened O’Donnell’s expression. “Really and truly, sweetheart. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
“I... Whatever.” Kittie pressed her lips together and turned back to the corral.
“I’ve got work to do,” Reid said, deciding it was time to escape. “Don’t stay long, and don’t get near the mama or her baby. It’ll make them nervous.” With a curt nod to Jacob O’Donnell, he strode away.
All in all, he felt kind of sorry for Kittie. Her dad was rich, so she had plenty of money, but apparently her mom was dead, and he knew exactly how that felt.
Lousy.
CHAPTER FOUR
LATE IN THE EVENING Mariah reviewed and accepted four reservations for July and added them to the chart where she tracked which wrangler was assigned to each group of visitors.
She leaned back in the office chair and rotated her shoulders to loosen her tight muscles. The gray tiger-striped cat on her lap protested the movement before settling down again. Squash was a fine old fellow, preferring long naps these days to terrorizing mice the way he used to when he was younger.
The U-2 was now fully booked for June, mostly booked for July and had more than half their openings taken for August—recent good news on the economic front had bumped their bookings considerably. Regular, middle-class people hesitated to go on vacations when the economy was bad. The ranch didn’t get many guests with Jacob O’Donnell’s wealth—the whole sleeping-in-a-tent thing generally turned them off.
Hmm.
What should she do about the O’Donnell family?
Jacob was different from their other guests in more ways than just the generous size of his bank account. He wasn’t curious about ranching or the stuff that brought most people to Montana, yet he and his daughter were staying for several weeks. The only thing recommending him was the way he sat a horse. It might have been years since he’d ridden, but he seemed at ease in the saddle.
Years...
A wicked grin crossed Mariah’s face. She didn’t care how great Jacob O’Donnell was on a horse—he was going to wake up in the morning with the biggest case of sore butt ever. It was inevitable. You didn’t ride for the first time in ages and get away unscathed. The interesting part would be whether he pretended it was all right or asked Grams for liniment and aspirin to relieve the aches and pains.
She was betting his pride would win.
“It wasn’t nice to tell Mr. O’Donnell that he’d have an aching bum tomorrow,” she whispered to the fur ball curled up on her thighs. “Not nice at all.”
Squash gazed at Mariah drowsily. He was accustomed to having conversations with her in the middle of the night. She’d adopted him from one of the barn cat’s litters when she was thirteen—he’d listened to the highs and lows of her high-school years, sulked when she was away at school and was the confidant she had needed when her parents died. She’d told Squash the things she couldn’t tell anybody, even Luke. Squash didn’t judge; he just purred and blinked at her.
“I’m usually much nicer to our guests. And I bet now he’ll feel that he has to prove something by being an iron man.”
Or maybe not.
It probably didn’t matter to rich men what “the help” thought of them, and that was what she and her wranglers were to Jacob O’Donnell...the hired hands who were supp
osed to shut up and obey his commands.
Ha.
A lot of visitors came to the U-2 again and again because they loved the ranch. Some of them had to save awhile for their vacations, but they arrived excited to be there once more. It was why Mariah had begun offering a 10 percent discount for return visits, and she wouldn’t let a spoiled entrepreneur with a chip on his shoulder ruin anyone else’s trip.
The computer pinged, alerting her that she had an email waiting. She toggled to the message program and saw it was from Luke.
Still mad at me? Up late with a mare dropping a foal. Thinking of you and wondering if you are awake. Love, L.
Mariah smiled and typed a reply.
Not mad. Trying to decide what to do with Jacob O’Donnell and his daughter. He’s impossible. At least he didn’t go out of his way at dinner to annoy me. M.
Yet she wavered as the cursor hovered over the send button on the computer monitor.... Maybe she shouldn’t say anything about Jacob O’Donnell. She deleted the note and started again.
No, not mad anymore. Was it Little Foot having her foal? I’m juggling reservations and the schedule. Got a few days’ work for two of your cowhands in the second week of June, if you can spare them. M.
She reread the text and sent it. That was much better. When the U-2 was heavily booked, they hired additional wranglers from neighboring ranches, sometimes the ranchers themselves when things were slow. Ranching had its lean years and the extra income could come in handy. She didn’t go to Luke very often, since he was primarily a cow and horse breeder and didn’t have the same financial ups and downs as some of the other ranches—he shipped prize-bull semen all over the world and got paid extremely well for it.
Another message came right back.
Yeah, it was Little Foot. You can have Pedro and Tommy in June. They’re best with people. Call me if you’re not too tired. Love, L.
Mariah lifted the phone and dialed.
“I hope this is an obscene caller,” Luke said when he answered.
“I don’t have the energy to be obscene.”
“Me, either. Little Foot had me worried at the end.”
“You should have let me know. I would have come over.”
“By the time it seemed there might be a problem, it was too late to get you here.” Dull thuds sounded through the line and she figured Luke had pulled off his boots and thrown them across the room. “She’s a small mare and it was her first, but Dr. Crandall thought I could handle it. He wasn’t able to come when Little Foot went into labor—he was working on a German shepherd that someone brought into the clinic. She was found on the highway. I’ll bet some damned fool didn’t tie her properly in their truck and she either jumped or was thrown out when they were screaming down the road.”
“That’s awful.” It infuriated Mariah when she saw kids or dogs in an open pickup. Luke felt the same—they’d seen it turn out badly too often.
“I guess she was pretty busted up, but Doc thinks she has a chance. Anyhow, it was a really big colt. I don’t know where Little Foot was hiding so much baby.”
Having assisted at births where the foal seemed impossibly large, Mariah chuckled in sympathy. Most of her experience with animals came from years of ranch life and tagging after the local veterinarian. In college it was often a question of associating technical terms with something she already knew, which enabled her to carry a heavier course load than her fellow students. Back then she’d been in a hurry to get through school so she could take over for Dr. Crandall; now he had to find another vet to buy the practice. Mariah minded Dr. Crandall being unable to retire almost as much as she missed being a veterinarian herself—Doc couldn’t keep working forever.
She shifted and Squash dug the tips of his claws into her skin as a warning to stay put. “Tell me about the new arrival. I remember you bred Little Foot later than usual last year.”
“He’s exactly what I was hoping for—a chestnut, same as Little Foot, with her sleek, clean lines. Look, I gotta grab a shower and hit the sack. I just wanted to hear your voice before going to bed.”
The comment surprised her. It wasn’t like Luke to be sentimental.
“Oh, okay. Sleep well.”
“You, too.”
Mariah hung up and put her cat on the floor so she could do a walk-through in the guest area. She’d intended to get down there earlier—someone else had mentioned the noise from Susan and Chad’s tent, saying the newlyweds were “enthusiastic about their honeymooning.” It was said with a grin, but Mariah didn’t want the situation to escalate again.
Outside, the stars blazed across the sky and she walked in their faint glimmer to the slope opposite the house, Pip at her heels. Things seemed fairly peaceful. Susan and Chad were in a tent set apart from the main group—they were whispering and smothering a laugh as she passed, but it wasn’t too loud.
It would be noisier when more kids were visiting the ranch after school got out for summer vacation. Nobody could chatter like two girls making friends.
A guest, Judy Hartner, mumbled “Hi” to Mariah as she stumbled toward the restroom wearing flip-flops and a jacket over her pajamas.
Pip’s eyes pricked forward when he saw a light shining from one side of the O’Donnells’ tent. She could see the wheels turning in his mind...the hope of another midnight snack. He let out a yip and whined.
“No,” she breathed.
She slapped her thigh to get Pip’s attention and he followed her to the barn. The cowhands made rounds to check on the animals, but it didn’t hurt to check on them herself. Most of the horses were asleep and didn’t stir as she switched on the lights and looked into each stall; they were used to familiar people coming in at night. But Shadow peered out the moment he caught her scent.
“Hello, boy.”
He nudged her shoulder and she rubbed his velvety black nose. Extending his neck over the stable door, he sniffed her pocket with unerring accuracy.
Mariah laughed. “Okay, okay.” She took out the carrot she’d brought from the house and he crunched it down. “You are one pampered pony.”
“Pony?” said a voice.
Startled, Mariah spun, her heart pounding. His tail wagging furiously, Pip dashed to greet Jacob. This was the human being who’d provided him, however unwittingly, with a steak dinner. Without much effort, Jacob could be a friend for life, yet he didn’t pet Pip or even greet him.
Pip cocked his head, puzzled. “Rrrrffff.”
“Just a minute, boy,” he murmured. “I’m a little stiff.” He bent and gave Pip a slow stroke on his shoulders. The canine wriggled with delight.
Mariah raised her eyebrows. So Jacob was acknowledging he hadn’t escaped the day unscathed. Of course, he might be sorry he’d said anything in the morning...but he was going to be sorry, period. She knew what happened when you went riding after a long absence.
“I don’t suppose your grandmother has a hot tub filled with that liniment you referred to this morning,” Jacob said, straightening. “I’d like to spend the rest of the night in it. And maybe tomorrow.”
The corner of her mouth twitched—she hadn’t expected him to have a sense of humor. “No, but an economy tube is available. I’ll unlock the dispensary for you. It doesn’t require an M.D. to hand out, though Grams prefers to manage first-aid services herself.”
“Don’t bother for tonight. I’ll survive...barely,” he added in a droll tone. “By the way, was your grandmother responsible for laundering my shirt after Pip used it as a doggy bowl? I threw it away, but found it in my tent this evening. My dry cleaner would claim it was impossible to get those grease stains out, and it looks perfect.”
“Possibly. Grams has many talents.” Mariah motioned at Pip to come to her. Some people didn’t like dogs—especially large ones—and there was definitely a lot of Pip to go around. “I w
as doing a quick patrol and saw your lantern was on. Are you having trouble dropping off after drinking all that coffee, or did Pip wake you up?”
“I drank the coffee for a reason. I’m reading contracts coming up for renewal in November and December.”
Contracts?
Naturally. What else?
He’d acted aloof and bored at the informal after-dinner social hour. Activity in the fresh air sent most of their visitors to bed by nine or ten, but first they mingled—singing or chatting or playing games in the mess tent. Jacob hadn’t participated; instead, he’d sat in the back, radiating tension, drinking regular coffee instead of decaf.
On the flip side, while Caitlin hadn’t been the soul of the party, she had played a game of checkers with Burt and gobbled down two servings of peach cobbler, topped by chocolate cake with ice cream and a glass of milk. Whatever was bothering her, it wasn’t her appetite. Since getting to the U-2, she’d eaten the same as any other teenager with a bottomless pit in place of a stomach.
“I see.”
She’d tried not to sound critical, but Jacob looked defensive. “I waited until Kittie was asleep before starting. And you’re working, too. How long a day does that make for you?”
“Summer is hectic. It’s a family business. We all work.”
“You have employees. Ever consider delegating?”
Delegating? Mariah pressed her lips together. She didn’t need management advice from a city-dwelling, money-obsessed workaholic. Delegation was fine, but everyone on the ranch had duties that kept them busy. As the business manager, she took care of odd tasks such as walking through the U-2’s tent town to see if the newlyweds were engaging in noisy sex and disturbing anyone.
“We get by,” she said finally.
The Ranch Solution Page 6