The Ranch Solution

by Julianna Morris

  Gingerly, she took the knife and locked it in the storage cabinet.

  “I saw Caitlin and Burt at the corral, combing Blue,” she said. “She’s very fond of him.”

  “Which one, Blue or Burt?”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “Blue. I wouldn’t know how she feels about Burt. Children connect well with horses—they’re sensitive, intelligent animals. What’s more, they’re usually eager to please.”

  “Unlike teenagers.”

  Mariah shook her head at Jacob’s droll tone. They had nothing in common, but if he got the pompous stick out from up his butt and let go of his preoccupation with money and the bottom line, he might be tolerable on a short-term basis.

  “You used to be a teenager yourself,” she pointed out. “And don’t tell me you were an angel.”

  “Far from an angel. I was an expert in getting myself in hot water. For example, there was the weekend I rebuilt the engine on my dad’s car when he was away from home on a business trip. I was twelve and already planning to be an engineer, so I redesigned the fuel system. Unfortunately, I bypassed the catalytic converter, in addition to making some other miscalculations.”

  Mariah whistled. She wasn’t a mechanic, but she was pretty sure the catalytic converter was important. “The car didn’t start?”

  “It never ran again, and the repairs would have cost twice what it was worth. Dad sold it to a junkyard and suggested I go into an engineering specialty that didn’t involve cars—he didn’t think Detroit was ready for me.”

  She laughed, yet it wasn’t so much what he’d said that touched her as the vision of a much younger version of Jacob O’Donnell making mistakes and being teased by his father. He obviously hadn’t grown up with money if his parents had owned a car not worth fixing.

  “What area of engineering did you choose, or did you major in something else after totaling your dad’s ride?”

  “I have a doctorate in aeronautical and astronautical engineering,” Jacob said. “I wanted to build planes that were faster and safer than anything ever conceived.... I even flirted with the thought of working for NASA on the space shuttle.”

  “No cars, then.”

  “Yeah, that made Dad happy.”

  They walked outside and he stood watching his daughter in the corral. Caitlin was grooming her father’s horse under Burt’s supervision, giggling as Blue whinnied and nosed her neck for attention. The horse had quickly grown attached to the rebellious teen, almost as if he knew they’d be riding together for several weeks.

  Mariah expected Jacob to say something else about Kittie’s safety, but other than his mouth tightening, he didn’t react. Maybe he realized it had all been said yesterday when they’d “discussed” his daughter learning how to curry Blue. He’d likely envisioned broken bones in his daughter’s feet from getting stepped on, crushed ribs from being thrown against a stable wall or fence and a range of other unlikely injuries. He’d actually called Caitlin’s doctor in Seattle to be reassured that her vaccinations were up-to-date after someone told him horses were associated with tetanus.

  Mariah couldn’t promise that nothing would happen when Caitlin picked up a currycomb and brush, but nobody was suggesting she groom a bucking bronco. The horses used by the U-2 guests were carefully selected for their gentle temperaments.

  “So international business mogul is a long way from aeronautical engineering,” Mariah said as a distraction. “What happened?”

  A spasm of pain crossed Jacob’s face. “Anna.”

  “Anna?” she asked tentatively. She’d speculated that Jacob was divorced, but that was all it was, a guess.

  “Kittie’s mother.”

  Without another word he turned and strode back into the barn, leaving more questions than he’d answered.

  * * *

  IN THE QUIET of the barn, Jacob drew a deep breath. Thinking about Anna had erased the lingering imprint of Mariah’s touch, but before that it was as if static electricity had brushed his skin. He had no doubt she’d meant it innocently, simply taking the knife to put away safely, yet he’d remained conscious of the sensation for the rest of their conversation.

  Disgusted with himself, Jacob pulled the note from Carolyn Barrett from his pocket and read it again.

  Dearest Jacob,

  Thank you for letting us know where you’ll be staying.

  I’m sending the antique locket Anna used to wear when she was a girl. You may remember she wore it on her wedding day—it was her “something old.” I ran across the necklace in the safe last year and thought we’d give it to Kittie when the time seemed right, but perhaps you’ll have a better idea of when that should be.

  I wish we knew how to help Kittie, but I’m sure you’ll do everything possible to get her through this troubling period. Please tell us if there’s something we can do, as well.

  You are so very dear to us, Jacob. I don’t think we’ve expressed how grateful we are for the happiness you gave Anna. We wouldn’t have made it without you, though I fear we’ve been too set in our ways to be the best grandparents.

  Our warmest love to you both.

  Carolyn

  Anna had been the light of Carolyn and Richard’s lives, but they’d rarely spoken of her since her death. When Jacob had first read the letter, the references to Anna had shaken him. Now something new was bothering him—the note didn’t have Carolyn’s usual reserve. Was there something he should know? The Barretts weren’t elderly, but they also weren’t exactly young.

  Taking out his phone, he dialed his in-laws’ number.

  “Hello, this is Jacob O’Donnell,” he said when the butler answered. “Are Richard or Carolyn at home?”

  “Indeed, sir. I’ll let Mr. Barrett know you are waiting on the line.”

  A short while later, Richard greeted him. They spoke about trivialities for a few minutes before Jacob cleared his throat.

  “Richard, I received a package from Carolyn today. Is everything all right? The note didn’t sound like her.”

  “Oh, yes, no need to worry. A friend had a minor stroke on Monday and it was one of life’s wake-up calls—a reminder that we should say important things to the people who matter to us. Not that it comes easily—at heart we’re just transplanted New Englanders, crusty on the outside and soft as pudding underneath. Carolyn tried to let her pudding side show when she wrote that note to you.”

  “You’re certain that’s all it is?” While Jacob had always been fond of his in-laws, he was surprised by the urgency he felt.

  “Very certain. We should be around for many more years. You’ll be quite tired of us by the time we go.”

  “We’ve tolerated you so far.”

  Richard chuckled and they chatted awhile longer. The conversation was relaxed enough that Jacob was no longer worried by the time he said goodbye. At the best of times the Barretts were difficult to fathom. He didn’t think they meant to be inscrutable, but they came from a rarified stratum of old money and strict propriety that was hard to get past. On top of which, there was the New England crustiness his father-in-law liked to joke about.

  Before returning to his tent, Jacob collected the second package, which he’d left on a bale of hay. Another contract was in the envelope, along with a memo from Gretchen, giving him a status report and letting him know that a spare battery for his laptop and accessories for his smartphone had been shipped and would be delivered directly to the U-2. Provided his phone had a sufficiently strong signal, he would be able to use it as a modem on his computer.

  “Stay in Montana. I get more done when you’re away,” she’d written at the end of her message. Gretchen might be the only employee in the company who would dare to make a comment like that, but she knew she was indispensable. And she probably did get more done when he wasn’t jogging her elbow.

  Jacob
leafed through the dreary contract; his legal staff had made notes regarding the updates they’d made. He’d look it over after Kittie was asleep. Yet he scowled at the thought of another night reading paperwork and tossed it into the storage trunk by the bed. It would have to wait till tomorrow—tonight he planned to sleep. He was so shy on rest that surely not even the silence would keep him awake.

  * * *

  HOW COULD YOU HAVE told Jacob O’Donnell about Dad and the hospital? Mariah scolded herself as she washed pots and pans that evening. The dinner crew hadn’t needed help, but scrubbing the heavy cookware was cathartic and she’d needed to burn up the frustration she was feeling. Normally she headed for one of the barns to find a task that would keep her mind and body busy when she felt this way, but Reid and the ranch hands had said the horse stalls were already shoveled out for the day.

  Idiot, she added to the litany in her brain.

  People on vacation did not want to hear anyone else’s troubles. They wanted to relax and forget the outside world existed. It was a basic rule she’d followed faithfully—after all, she had Grams and Granddad and Aunt Lettie if she needed someone to talk to or just listen. Then there was Squash, who purred and didn’t offer opinions.

  And Luke, Mariah amended quickly.

  But not Jacob. He was a passing fixture on the ranch. And though he was staying longer than most of their guests, that didn’t mean she shouldn’t follow her rules with him. Yet so far she’d done a lousy job of dealing with Jacob.

  “Hey, take it easy, you’re rubbing a hole in my favorite pot,” Reggie complained. “You’ve scrubbed the bottom so thin I can see daylight through it.”

  “That’s utterly ridic...” Mariah stopped and swallowed her reply. Honestly, where was her sense of humor? She rinsed the pot and gave it to Reggie. “I think you rescued it in time, but don’t tell the cast-iron skillets it’s your favorite, or they’ll get jealous.”

  “If you won’t tell, I won’t. Now scat.”

  “Scat? Some people think I’m in charge around here.”

  “Not in my chuck wagon.”

  Mariah grinned and discarded the rubber gloves she was using. She suspected that old-time chuck-wagon cooks had often gotten away with outrageous behavior—possibly measured by how skilled they were at filling stomachs with tasty food. Reggie would have gotten away with murder. What was more, he took his ever-changing crew of helpers in stride and the guests liked his good-hearted bossiness.

  “Why don’t you take the night off?” Granddad said quietly as she went into the mess tent where the usual games and music had begun. Some of the chess sets and checkerboards had been around since her father was a boy.

  “Me? No, I’m fine. Why is everyone is chasing me away tonight?”

  “Because you got a burr under your saddle, and don’t tell me different.”

  Burr under her saddle?

  Mariah had heard the turn of phrase a thousand times, yet it reminded her of Jacob O’Donnell’s accusations.

  “Granddad, do you think we ham it up for the tourists, putting on a show of ranch life that isn’t entirely real?”

  He regarded her with blank astonishment. “Why would you question such a thing?”

  “No reason. That is, not a good reason. It was something a guest said today. As a family we don’t regularly eat the way Reggie cooks—chili and barbecued steak and fried potatoes and such. Do you know how much sausage and bacon he goes through in a week? Not to mention butter, eggs, cheese and cooking oil. A heart doctor would be horrified.”

  Granddad snorted. “We don’t eat the way my mama cooked because your grandmother won’t let us. It isn’t everybody who has an M.D. presiding over the home kitchen. Besides, you both insisted that Reggie include vegetarian and other choices for the ‘health conscious.’ And he does, but a whole lot of it goes to the hogs.”

  True enough, but the U-2’s guest menu always had a traditional Western theme: lots of meat—especially beef as they were on a cattle ranch—with corn bread and biscuits and beans at every hot meal. Granted, it was also the kind of food they could produce easily in volume, which was why chuck-wagon cooks had fed cowboys that way for generations.

  Granddad put his hand on her shoulder. “Mariah, the way I see it, we’re cooking for company. You don’t feed company everyday fare. You feed them what they’ll enjoy. We just have more company than most.”

  He was right; it was what their guests expected and enjoyed. Even their so-called health-conscious visitors often ate steak and biscuits and bypassed the healthier dishes.

  As for the rest of what went on...they weren’t making up stories or pretending something wasn’t what it was; while they made adjustments for greenhorns, they were definitely a working ranch. The U-2 raised cattle for the market and didn’t pretend otherwise—their herds weren’t just for show the way some guests assumed.

  “You know, I think I will take the night off,” she said.

  “Excellent. We don’t have to be here all the time. Anyhow, the wranglers can take care of most everything, and if there’s a problem, they know where to find us.”

  Mariah wandered toward the Big Barn. She remembered how excited she was when it was being built after years of searching for old chestnut planks. Her parents had originally wanted to build it all out of chestnut, but they weren’t willing to dismantle working barns to do it. And in the end, they’d decided the mixture of new and historic wood worked best.

  The sun was low in the western sky and Mariah crouched by the cornerstone, tracing the words on the brass plate affixed to it.

  Dedicated to the past and future. May they be bridged with more laughter than tears.

  Laughter and tears.

  With a feeling of melancholy chasing her heels, Mariah walked inside and sat by one of the hay bales, using it as a backrest. It was sweetly fragrant, and she wondered how Luke had found the time to bring it over to the U-2. Taking that horse ride together the other day had been an indulgence in such an active season of the year.

  Pip padded up and lay by Mariah with a quiet wumpf.

  “Hello, boy. Did Granddad send you?”

  He put his head on her thigh as she stroked him.

  She closed her eyes and listened with her heart, more than her ears. Sometimes she did seem to hear whispers from the past, yet it wasn’t an ancient memory she heard now; it was footsteps crossing the threshold.

  “Do you need something, Jacob?” she asked.

  “Your back was to the door. How did you know it was me?”

  “I’d claim to be fey like my great-great-grandmother, but it would annoy you.”

  Warmer tendrils of air brushed against her cheek as he got down next to her. “Do you think you’re fey?”

  Mariah looked at him. “I think the world is more than what we can see and hear and touch, but the truth is that I knew it was you from the way you walk—straight, single-minded, placing your feet firmly.”

  “I can deal with that.”

  Jacob fell silent. Though she hated to admit it, somehow he’d gone from being a guest to something more, though she couldn’t have defined what that meant. She didn’t even want to. The awareness darting through her body was undeniable and she couldn’t recall ever feeling the same sharp, intense ache for Luke. That was the most disturbing part of it. What was wrong with her? She was supposed to marry Luke; they’d been planning it for years.

  The rays of light from the sun grew longer and the shadows deepened as they sat, each lost in their thoughts.

  “Anna was my wife,” Jacob said finally, as if just finishing their earlier conversation. “And I worry about Kittie having fanciful beliefs because she used to fantasize about her mother. You see, Anna...Anna died when Kittie was two.”

  Mariah’s stomach tightened; it was hard enough to have your life torn apart as an
adult. But for such a young child?

  “That must have been awful.”

  “There aren’t any words.” Jacob pulled a piece of hay from a bale and rolled it between his fingers. “She was diagnosed with a heart condition too late to do anything about it. A transplant was the only option, but she had a rare blood type, and a donor heart is one of the few things her parents’ money couldn’t buy. Kittie has the same blood type,” he added. “Travel is an issue since she may not be able to get a transfusion if it’s needed. You must think I’m crazy to be concerned about that, living out here the way you do.”

  Mariah shivered. A situation you might philosophically risk for yourself loomed much larger when it was someone you loved. “It isn’t crazy. We’re lucky to have two doctors in the family for emergencies, but there are many ranches located an hour or more from medical care. It’s a trade-off for having this life.”

  Jacob hiked his eyebrows. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it seems as if you accept a lot of trade-offs.”

  He was right, and one of them was the influx of visitors each summer. Yet in some ways Mariah didn’t mind—she’d met people from around the globe. While it would be wonderful to ride fence lines for a day without thinking about the demands of strangers, it was never dull with so many guests at the ranch. And by the time she was truly weary of it, fall arrived and they had peace.

  Jacob was actually the first guest she regretted; his presence had become far too personal for comfort.

  “We get more than we give up.” She was used to people who thought the U-2 was a nice place to visit and the last place they’d want to live, yet the open land was as necessary to her as breathing. That was what she had to keep in mind whenever Jacob got to her.

  “I can’t claim to understand,” he murmured. “I grew up in a small town and couldn’t wait to get to the city. You might like it—Seattle has an energy that’s really exciting.”

  “Naw, I can’t imagine living anywhere but Montana. We have energy here, too—it’s called weather and cattle prices. One minute the prices are up, the next they’re sliding into the basement.”