The Ranch Solution

by Julianna Morris

  Yet even more disconcerting was seeing himself from Mariah’s point of view...the obsessed businessman, with no high goals aside from making money.

  He hadn’t always been that way. Once he’d had dreams and ideals he couldn’t wait to make come true.

  * * *

  “I CANNOT BELIEVE he did that,” Mariah stormed as she put everything away in the office. She located another fax, one adding to a prior message about food allergies, under the books Jacob had piled on the floor and slapped it on the desk for review.

  The majority of their reservations were handled over the internet, but some people didn’t use the Net or didn’t trust putting personal information online, so they preferred fax or phone. No doubt Jacob had also tied up the phone line so nobody could have gotten through to the answering machine while he conducted his important business. The local phone company kept promising to invest in the technology for electronic voice mail, but in the meantime, everybody around Buckeye was using more old-fashioned ways of recording messages.

  “I should have locked the house when I went to the clinic, but it didn’t occur to me that someone would come in here,” Grams said with a frown. As a doctor, she was fierce on confidentiality. “You know, I was starting to like Mr. O’Donnell. I’m very disappointed in him.”

  Mariah was disappointed in Jacob, too, for a variety of reasons. Maybe she was naive, but a pretty nice class of people usually came to the U-2 for their vacations...people who wouldn’t dream of intruding the way he had.

  The phone rang and Mariah picked it up. It was Amy from the travel agency; she’d spoken with a couple of travelers who’d tried to reach the ranch directly. Nothing pressing, just guests double-checking their reservations. As she hung up, Mariah realized that Grams had stepped out to the patio and was talking to someone in low tones.

  She continued tidying and checking to be sure nothing else had gotten lost. The space was small, but it worked well if everything was kept in its proper place. She’d considered using one of the larger rooms in the house, but this was the office her parents had set up when they’d started the ranch vacation business. And it had exterior access for the rare occasions a visitor came up to the house.

  “Mariah?”

  It was Jacob, standing at the open door.

  “What?”

  “I forgot to leave money to pay for my calls. Several were overseas and they’ll be expensive.” He gave her an envelope. “This should cover it, but if not, you can bill me when you receive the charges from the phone company.”

  “Whatever.” She threw it into the petty-cash box.

  “I know you’re still angry...”

  Mariah gave him a withering look.

  “But I want to apologize. I didn’t properly before, and I am sorry.”

  He seemed sincere, and it was remotely possible that her temper had gotten the best of her.

  It wasn’t easy to stay calm these days. Her life had gotten radically turned upside down that week, and Jacob’s presence wasn’t making it easier to handle.

  Aside from his daughter, the man didn’t seem concerned about other people in the least, and he certainly didn’t have an interest in the land or animals. He was probably a decent employer, but not because his employees were individuals with needs and lives of their own—it was just good business. But for her, ranching was a way of life that the Westons had chosen for generations, and their neighbors and cowhands were like extended family. How could she be so unsettled by someone who didn’t care about the things that mattered most to her, much less understand why they were important?

  As for that brief instant when she’d tripped and he’d caught her... Mariah swallowed. However much she tried to ignore it, the heat between them crackled with an intensity she’d never felt.

  “Fine. You’ve apologized,” she said. “I thought you wanted to see Caitlin when she got back.”

  “I saw her. She went to groom Blue.”

  Mariah lifted an eyebrow at his dour tone, though she didn’t know if it was because Caitlin had reacted poorly to him or the reminder that his daughter was combing and brushing an animal that outweighed her by a thousand pounds.

  “Burt says she’s very thorough. He thinks the responsibility has been good for her,” Mariah couldn’t resist adding, though it might be the same as throwing a lighted match on gasoline.

  Jacob made an exasperated sound. “I’m no longer uptight about her working with the horses. Well...not much.”

  “Glad to hear it. Well, you’d better head over for dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Cardoza are assigned to help with the meal tonight and they’re cooking a specialty from their restaurant in San Diego.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Believe it or not, we have a kitchen here at the house, with a stove and everything. I usually don’t eat a full meal at the mess tent.” She didn’t add that when Grams worked at the clinic in Buckeye, they usually did eat with the guests.

  “But you don’t cook.”

  Mariah was surprised he’d remembered. Of course, he hadn’t built a global company by being forgetful.

  “I may be down later, but Grams always stocks food in the fridge. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

  * * *

  GIGGLING, KITTIE AND SHAYLA raced to the showers once they were done with their chores. The McFees’ wrangler had made sure they were currying the horses properly, and now that she understood how important grooming was to Blue’s health, Kittie didn’t mind that the ranch hands regularly checked to make sure she was doing everything right. Besides, it was like gym class—you didn’t get perfect at something without practicing and having someone teach you. As for Emily, she was doing really well; the wranglers said she was gaining weight and getting playful with the other cows. And she ran over as soon as she saw Kittie, crying and wanting attention.

  Almost everyone had gone to the mess tent, so they didn’t have company in the bathroom. Kittie dried off and shimmied into clean jeans and a T-shirt, trying not to look at herself in the mirror. She’d never done laundry in Seattle and the things she’d washed at the ranch had come out of the machine blotchy. She couldn’t wait to talk to Mariah about helping her get new clothes. She sure wasn’t going to the dance if she had to wear one of her faded shirts or the crap her dad had bought.

  Shayla tucked her top into her jeans. “Ready?”

  “Uh-huh. Let’s go. I’m starving.”

  “Me, too.”

  At the mess tent, they got into line at the food table and Kittie’s stomach rumbled as she sniffed the delicious smells. The U-2 always served steak and barbecued chicken with beans and all, but they also had special dishes every night, and some for people who didn’t eat meat. Today the special dish was enchiladas with carne adovada and rice, covered with tons of melted cheddar. Her mouth watered.

  “Do you like spicy food?” asked Mr. Cardoza as he served Shayla. “We made it mild, but you can use the fresh salsa if you want it hotter.”

  “Yes, sir,” Shayla assured him. “I like it spicy.”

  “Me, too,” Kittie chimed in and stuck her plate out. Their different housekeepers had cooked various kinds of foods, but Kittie loooved cheese, so Mexican and Italian were her favorites. She sat with the McFees and dug into the food; everything tasted yummier in Montana.

  A few minutes later Mariah arrived and looked pissed when she saw Kittie’s dad.

  Kittie’s heart fell.

  Jeez. Why couldn’t he stop making Mariah mad?

  “You seem to be off your tucker,” said Mrs. McFee. “Are you all right?”

  Kittie remembered Shayla saying that tucker was food in Australia. “No, I’m fine.” She began eating again, though it didn’t taste quite as yummy.

  Mariah left as dessert was being put out and Kittie followed her outside. It migh
t already be too late to ask. The next dance was in two days and Mariah always had lots to do.

  “Uh...Mariah,” she called, running after her.

  Mariah turned around. “Yes?”

  “I wanted to...er...see if you would...” Kittie bit her lip. “That is, I don’t think the boys here like my clothes. I thought...well, I hoped that if you weren’t too mad at my dad, you might take me to buy some outfits that Montana guys prefer so I can be a real cowgirl. Before the dance on Saturday, if you have time. Just us, not my dad.”

  Mariah didn’t say anything at first, then she nodded. “I’d be happy to, but I’ll have to get your father’s permission.”

  “Can you just say we’re going shopping?” Kittie asked anxiously. “Not the junk about guys in Montana. Dad won’t let me date or anything. He wants me to die a virgin.”

  “Oh.” Mariah rubbed her mouth. “Sure, I can do that.”

  “Thanks, Mariah! I need new things anyhow—the clothes I brought got ruined when I washed them. See?” She tugged on her faded black T-shirt. “At home the housekeeper does the laundry, so I don’t know how to do it right. I put something in that was supposed to get things extra clean, but they came out this way and smell like a swimming pool.”

  “It must have been bleach for whites. When you do it again, try cold water and something that says ‘color-safe bleach.’”

  “Okay.”

  Kittie could have asked Shayla or Mrs. McFee what to do with the laundry, but she thought she’d sound dumb or bigheaded, since most people didn’t have housekeepers. Besides, Kittie figured Mariah was used to people not knowing how to do stuff on the ranch.

  Mariah waved toward the mess tent. “Shall we see if your father will give his permission?”

  “Are you sure it isn’t too much trouble? I mean, I know you got a lot to do.”

  A funny expression crossed Mariah’s face, but she shook her head. “No, it’s not too much trouble.”

  * * *

  MARIAH TRIED TO STAY composed as she returned to the mess tent with Caitlin. She hadn’t been able to turn down the teenager’s request. In Caitlin’s shoes she wouldn’t have gone to her father for help with clothes, either—no one could have accused Sam Weston of being a fashionista.

  The cleanup crew was working on the dishes in the outdoor kitchen, and everybody else was settling into their evening activities—games, singing and friendly chit-chat over coffee and dessert. A number of the wranglers hung around the mess tent rather than going to the bunkhouse, so it tended to stay cheerfully noisy until hard work and fresh air caught up with visitors and employees alike.

  Jacob sat to one side as usual, looking vaguely out of place, the ubiquitous cup of coffee in his hand. His cell phone Bluetooth device wasn’t in his ear—it was likely burning a hole in his pocket.

  “I’m gonna wait with Shayla,” Caitlin said hurriedly. “Maybe he’ll let me go if it’s just you asking.”

  She bolted away and Mariah wrinkled her nose. Caitlin being there probably wouldn’t make any difference. Jacob was so protective he might not allow anyone to take his daughter into town regardless.

  “Caitlin wanted a favor, so I need to speak with you,” she said as she approached Jacob.

  He tensed. “What favor?”

  “We should take a walk and discuss it,” Mariah suggested, conscious of the teenager’s hopeful gaze from the opposite side of the tent. She’d hate to disappoint Caitlin, but the decision was entirely up to Jacob and she didn’t want to get into an argument with him in front of everybody.

  “Sure.”

  Outside she went up the shallow valley to the open country beyond. The setting sun cast a golden light across the landscape and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, though Mariah still wished for some rain. It wasn’t a bad drought year yet, but she preferred the grass to be greener this early in the season so they didn’t have to worry as much about fire.

  “This is nice,” Jacob said approvingly when she stopped.

  “Oh...yes.” With a start, Mariah saw that she’d taken him to her favorite spot in Montana—the crest of a small hill, topped by a single tall ponderosa pine. From there she could sit and look at the land for miles in every direction.

  “It’s hard to imagine,” he murmured finally.

  “Imagine what?”

  “That buffalo used to roam by the millions on the Great Plains. As a kid I was fascinated when we visited Yellowstone National Park and saw one. They looked so primitive, as if they could have strolled off a cave painting. And huge—the ranger said a charging buffalo could bash in the side of our car.”

  “They’re amazing,” Mariah agreed. It was strange that they were both intrigued by the massive animals.

  She sat down cross-legged and breathed in the wild scents of grass and flowers and the cool breeze. Jacob dropped down next her, too close for comfort.

  A hundred and forty years ago, Mariah’s ancestors left the security of their homes in the East and drove covered wagons into the northern territories. Catherine Heider Weston was expecting her first child, and her husband had treated her with unusual care; instead of walking by the wagon like so many wives and daughters, she rode in a cushioned chair. And a month after arriving on the land where Mariah now sat, Catherine safely gave birth to a son who was christened Matthew Thomas.

  More children were born and baptized. A cemetery was consecrated. The original ranch house burned and was rebuilt. The second one burned as well, years later, and the family stubbornly built again. You had to be stubborn to survive on the land; it didn’t let you be anything else.

  The sun had dropped lower and color streaked up from the horizon—the land was so broad and wide that the sky felt bigger. She could breathe in a place like this. It wasn’t loud with cars and televisions and people blasting their stereos. She’d practically gone crazy in college when a neighbor played music endlessly, the thump, thump, thump of the bass rubbing like itching powder on her senses.

  What was wrong with silence—were people afraid of being alone with their thoughts?

  Yet it wasn’t silent, even here.

  The breeze ruffled the grass, and birds called through the evening air. And there was Jacob beside her; Mariah was aware of each tiny sound he made, from the intake of his breath to the rustle of his clothing.

  “Were there buffalo in the area when your family came here?” Jacob asked.

  The question startled Mariah. It was almost as if he’d read her mind about the past.

  “A few. But the bison herds were mostly wiped out by the time Catherine and Timothy Weston homesteaded here in the 1870s. Catherine was a wagon maker’s daughter. They both died on the ranch in their nineties.”

  Jacob plucked a blade of grass and twisted it in his fingers. “Have you ever looked into stocking bison on the U-2? I understand there’s a market for buffalo meat.”

  “Maybe someday. I like the idea of keeping a breeding herd, since they were nearly driven extinct by hunters, though not as a commercial venture.” Mariah shifted. “Anyway, Jacob, the favor that Caitlin wanted...she had some difficulty with her clothes when she washed them. Bleach got in and now they’re discolored. She’d like me to take her into Buckeye to do some shopping.” It was part of the truth, but she kept the teenager’s other comments private.

  “I already bought her clothes in town. She refuses to wear them.”

  “You know kids—they like to pick their own gear. I don’t mind taking her, but I told her we’d need your consent.”

  Resignation filled his face. “She doesn’t want me to go.”

  “Uh, well, it’s kind of a feminine thing, shopping for clothes. My dad was terrific, but he would have been useless in a women’s clothing store. You don’t have to worry—the Buckeye Booteek doesn’t stock anything risqué. We don’t get enough tourists w
anting to buy that sort of thing, being off the main highway.”

  Jacob moved restlessly. “What if I take you both into town and stay in the car while you shop?”

  What if I tell you to go jump yourself? Mariah thought crossly. If he didn’t trust her to drive his kid five miles, he should just say so.

  “I don’t think that’s what she had in mind.”

  “I wouldn’t be in the store with you, and that way I could simply come in and pay for everything when you were done. It would be less complicated dealing with the bill.”

  “But she’d still feel as if you were keeping an eye on her. If that’s what you want to do, then you tell Caitlin. Have fun.”

  Mariah got up and started back to the ranch center without waiting to see if he followed. Jacob couldn’t get lost; the lights and peaks of the buildings were visible from their vantage point.

  “Hey,” he said and grabbed her arm and swung her around. “I blew it again, didn’t I? I’m sorry. It must have sounded as if I don’t think you’re a safe driver.”

  “I don’t object to you being concerned. I object to you making up excuses,” she hissed. The imprint of his hand on her skin sent a hot sensation straight to her abdomen. Damn. She’d heard that heightened emotion led to heightened sexual response; it must be true. He’d ticked her off more than once today.

  “I’m sorry. It is hard for me to let Kittie go with someone I don’t know that well,” he said. “Or anyone, for that matter. How about a compromise? Take the Mercedes—it’s one of those models that are built like a tank—and I’ll work with Burt while you’re gone.”

  Mariah counted to five, trying to get hold of her temper. “All right, but she’s hoping to fit in a bit more around here, like a cowgirl, and it would be easier to do that in my truck. Mercedes aren’t seen around these parts too often—they smack of city snobs without country sense.”

  A muscle twitched in Jacob’s jaw. “Then take your truck.”

  He remained silent, and when they entered the mess tent, he immediately went to get a cup of coffee. Mariah was certain that one of these days he was going to have a heart attack from all the stress and caffeine and long work hours. If he was bucking to leave his daughter an orphan, he was going about it the right way.