The Rancher's Conditions

by R. S. Chapman

  It was eight o’clock and the Wellington Law office was already humming when her intercom summoned Layne to Wellington’s office. “I understand Mr. Rivers made a few special conditions for you before he’d agree to re-issue the check. How are things going with that?” he asked without preamble. “Are you cooperating?”

  “I beg your pardon. Cooperating? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Wellington’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘What the hell does that mean?’ Didn’t you hear? River’s little game is over, although as we speak, he is yet to know it. This is my letter of resignation.” She smiled, laying her resignation gently upon his desk. “I quit. Can’t say it has been fun, Mr. Wellington.” She turned to leave, then stopped to face him. “And you owe me two weeks salary.” She walked out and met Barb halfway down the hall.

  “How’d it go?” Barb asked. “Any problems?”

  “Not that I know of. I got in a couple of good barbs, and I think he’s possibly in shock. He did a lot of gasping.”

  “Well, I’m next,” Barb said. “This could very well kill the bastard. Keep your fingers crossed.”

  ~ ~ ~

  With the resignations behind them, and after the first leisurely lunch they’d shared since they’d been together in Wellington’s practice, Barb went to her appointment with a realtor to inspect several prospective office sites.

  While she was doing this, Layne drove out to Rivers End Ranch. She was driving slowly, filled with excitement and angst. Excitement at the thought of looking him in the eye and telling him to go straight to hell with his childish game. Angst at the thought of . . . of what? Was she going to miss him? She shook her head at the thought, sweeping away the mental image of him in his workout attire. But that wasn’t the entire picture. From all she’d heard about him, Erik Rivers was actually a nice person, other than his control issues. And, after all, she was the one who brought this fiasco on by tearing up his damn check!

  Layne found her mind a scramble of confusing emotions as she pulled into the parking area in front of the lodge and after several nerve-steadying breaths, walked to the entryway and rapped the heavy knocker.

  The massive door swung open, and the friendly housekeeper greeted Layne. “Yes, Miss Martin?” she questioned, smiling a wide, toothy smile.

  “Is . . . Mr. Rivers in?” Layne asked.

  “I think he’s out by the corral, with the boys,” the woman said with a nod toward the outside, “workin’ a couple’a ponies.” She walked with Layne through the entryway. “Go down that way,” she said, pointing toward an unknown building. “You’ll find ’em somewhere down there.”

  Layne walked away in the general direction of her pointed finger. “Workin’ a couple’a ponies,” Layne mimicked to herself. “Gotta learn the language . . .” Well, maybe not, she realized. She’d never be coming back, that was for damn sure. She found Erik where the housekeeper thought she’d find him. He was kneeling on the ground, talking to a dusty cowboy, who by the looks of the group of cowboys laughing as they stood around him, had just been thrown from a horse.

  Erik turned and followed the appreciative stares of the cowboys, who were now gazing in open-mouthed admiration as Layne walked up to them. He handed the rope he was holding to a cowboy and slowly walked toward Layne. She was sure his slow, steady gait was merely another sign of his cockiness and imagined power over her. Or to impress the wranglers . . .

  “Hi,” he smiled, stopping close in front of her.

  “Hi,” she replied coolly in return. If he thought his closeness was going to bother her, he was mistaken. She firmly stood her ground. Well okay, she did take a short step back . . .

  Erik looked at her with a puzzled expression. “What brings me the pleasure of your company this fine day?”

  “I give myself the pleasure of giving you my answer this fine day. From the other day? Remember?”

  “Of course I remember. So, have you come to your senses? We’ll start doing things my way? No battles?”

  “Yes, I certainly have,” Layne replied with an amused grin. “I’ve finally come to my senses.” Oh God, she could hardly wait!

  “So we can get together tonight then?”

  Layne continued staring at him with a cool, amused smirk.

  “Well?” he added somewhat impatiently.

  “Well,” she started slowly, preparing to relish every word, “today is a delightful day. Possibly my best ever.”

  “And just why would that be?” Erik asked condescendingly.

  “Because this morning I resigned my job. I am no longer with Wellington’s Law firm.”

  It took a short moment for her words to register. “What? Why?”

  “Just make an attempt at listening for a change. Be quiet and allow me to continue.”

  Shocked at her proclamations, Erik shut up.

  “I’m nowhere near finished with the explanation of my finest day ever, so listen. It concerns you and my roommate, Barb,” she continued. “You met her, remember? At the gym? Well, we had the first leisurely lunch we’ve had together since we’ve been working for Wellington. And as we speak, Barb is looking at office space with a realtor. And, as we speak, you and I,” she said, pointing to her chest, and then poking into his, “it gives me the utmost pleasure —and oh, how I mean the utmost - to inform you that I’m out of your silly little game. Forever. I quit. No check, no park, no job. And that means I never have to see you again. Anywhere, anytime, Wellness Center included.” She turned to walk away, then stopped. “One thing, Mr. Rivers, and I really mean this, I hope things work out with your niece, but keep in mind her best interests, not yours. As self-centered as you are, that may be a difficult task, but try.”

  Erik watched her walk away with long, purposeful strides, accentuated by a hop and a skip or two. “Layne, wait. Please!” he called, running to catch up. He grabbed her arm, stopping her and turning her to face him. “Please, we have to talk.”

  She tore out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me!” she spat, pushing against his chest and walking away again. “We have nothing, absolutely nothing, to talk about,” she shot over her shoulder, starting up the trail to her car.

  Erik caught up again and matched her stride for stride to her car. He leaned against the driver’s door, blocking her from opening it.

  “Get away from my car,” she ordered angrily, but to no avail. Erik remained steadfast, blocking the door. “If you refuse to allow me to leave these premises, that’s kidnapping, and I sure as hell will press charges! Now get away from my car!”

  Erik stood his ground. “I have things to say, Layne,” he said. “You’ve got to give me a chance. We’ve got to talk.”

  “It’s Miss Martin. My friends call me Layne. This is the last time I’m going to have to tell you, thank God. I have nothing to say to you, and strange as it may seem, you have nothing of any interest whatsoever to say to me. And I repeat, you’re kidnapping me.”

  “Oh, come on, I am not kidnapping you. Besides, even if I was, there are no witnesses.”

  Layne nodded to the gawking group of cowboys who’d followed them up the trail and were gathered around, a short distance away, enjoying every word of the loud confrontation. “No witnesses?” she shot back. “Now let me go!”

  The sight of the cowboys made Erik step away from the car door and allow Layne to get in. He tapped lightly on the window, signaling her to lower it. She refused, so he spoke anyway. “Even the worst attorney in the world would allow the accused to speak in his defense. Why won’t you talk to me?”

  “If you have anything to say to me, hire a lawyer,” she spit out as she started the car and drove away.

  As he watched the car leave, Erik turned to the group of cowboys. “Okay,” he said, “the show’s over. Get back to work.”


  As the group dispersed, still laughing, Erik’s thoughts returned to Layne. He glanced up the road, seeing only the cloud of dust she left behind. How could he have handled things so badly? So asinine? So absolutely, so completely childish? Why couldn’t he have been honest with her, and told her the truth? Yes, he wanted to meet her, but approaching a woman in the gym usually was taken as an unwanted, unwelcome advance. Erik also realized there were reasons he hadn’t seen her before. He went to the Wellness Center only during the slow seasons at the ranch, and the other possible reason, he now knew, was because she only recently moved to the area.

  But he certainly did notice her. How could anyone not? And another nice thing, it was readily apparent that she knew nothing about him. He had become somewhat wary of women approaching him, possibly seeing dollar signs. Lately this had merely become a fact of life. But, even after starting to get to know him, Layne was not impressed in any way.

  He watched as the cloud of dust finally dissipated, then walked slowly back to the cowboys, ready for the ribbing he was about to take. He saw the cowboys as equals, even though they certainly did not. They all, to a man, thought of him as fair, loyal, and surely not in any way above doing the same work he expected from them, no matter how hard, dirty, or dangerous.

  Well, he mused, you’ve blown it! Somehow he had to get Layne to listen. He had to explain that he truly admired her, and really only wanted to get to know her.

  ~ ~ ~

  The office was starting to come together. Barb and the realtor found a five-room office in a recently constructed commercial strip mall, perfect for the two of them. There was a small records area adjacent to Layne and Barb’s private spaces, and with the two extra rooms, one was used as a reception area, while the other would be available should they decide to bring another woman into the practice.

  Wellington’s office had a large law library, so while they worked for him, they had no need of their own private supply, sparse as it was. Now they combined the few books and legal materials they had between them and placed them on a newly painted bookshelf found in a used furniture store.

  The furniture store was proving to be a godsend, and the grizzled old proprietor was a helpful godsend too. He, along with Layne and Barb, searched through the dusty, dark corners and basement of the store, unearthing dusty, hidden treasures.

  Husky men carried in desks and chairs, filing cabinets, and reception furniture. Office equipment and supplies were in place, pictures and diplomas were hung, the newspapers were notified, and the office was clean, neat, and professional. Layne and Barb were ready to go.

  It had been at least three weeks since the women quit the Wellington practice, and of course, the same amount of time since Layne last saw Erik Rivers. He had not even been in the gym, she was sure of that, since she was always on the lookout for him to avoid any possible confrontation.

  One morning in the Wellness Center, as she and Barb pedaled away on their stationary bicycles, Layne was washed with a feeling she’d not experienced before. In her usual morning survey of the gym, on the lookout for Erik, she found herself disappointed at not seeing him! Disappointed. What the hell? She stopped her pedaling and got off the machine.

  “What’s going on?” Barb panted from the bike beside her.

  “Got a leg cramp,” Layne lied. “Gotta walk it off.” She took the towel off the handlebars and wiped her face and neck, then after her usual quick check for watching male eyes, wiped down her front between her breasts. Her halter was soaked dark.

  “A cramp?” Barb exclaimed. “You never get those. What’s the matter, not enough water?”

  Layne realized there was no reason to keep anything from Barb. After all, they were roommates and law practice partners. “I gotta walk it off in the weight room, then in the spinning room, then anywhere else he may be,” she confessed.

  “Rivers?”

  “Yeah.” Layne nodded. “Who else?”

  “Aha!” Barb smiled. “Good luck.”

  “I’m not sure I want good luck,” she confessed. “I just . . . I just . . . oh hell, I don’t know what I want. What the hell would I say to him anyway?”

  “You could say you miss him,” Barb offered quietly.

  “You’re kidding, of course.” Layne smiled back.

  “Then why are you looking for him, with the very obvious hope of finding him?”

  Layne stopped. “I don’t know,” she replied, getting back on the bike. “I really don’t know.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The new practice was going better than either Layne or Barb had anticipated. No, they were not swamped with clients, but they had enough work to keep them busy, pay the rent and bills, and put some money into their bank accounts.

  One rainy morning as Layne gazed out her office window, watching the rivulets of water run down the pane, a thought breezed through her mind. Would this rain improve the hay crop of River’s ranch? Where the hell did that come from, she wondered, backing away from the window.

  It was now close to six weeks since last she saw Erik Rivers. He floated in and out of her thoughts, not too often, but enough to make her wonder what would have happened if she’d gone along with his plan. Her indentured servitude would be almost over by now. She knew from the newspapers and television that the park had been saved from the developers, thanks largely to a very large donation from him. Apparently, she realized, he’d changed his mind about withholding a new check, or was that his plan from the beginning? She told herself she didn’t know and she didn’t care.

  She returned to her cluttered desk, hoping to restore some semblance of order, when the ring of the desk telephone startled her. She grabbed a pencil and picked up the phone. She answered, then listened for a moment or two as she jotted notes. “Okay,” she finally said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Thank you for your confidence in me.”

  She began delving through the mess on the desk, knowing the job would more than likely take a good part of the morning.

  ~ ~ ~

  Layne and Barb were finishing their salads when Barb gazed around the room and said, “This is a nice little place. I’m glad it’s so close.”

  The little neighborhood café was only a few short blocks away, and when their schedules allowed it, they could look forward to and enjoy an unhurried lunch, which had been virtually impossible in Wellington’s office.

  “I got a strange call this morning,” Layne said, picking through the last of her salad. “A woman called for an appointment. She sounded young and quite sophisticated, but didn’t say exactly why she wanted to see me.”

  “Well, surprises are usually welcome.”

  “Sure hope so. At any rate, I’ll find out tomorrow.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Layne sat at her desk, rearranging the papers for the umpteenth time. She wanted the desk neat and clean, but with a busy look, a good first impression for whomever this woman was. She glanced at the wall clock, another delicious find in a dark corner of the furniture store, and realized she had another fifteen minutes to wait. Somehow her caseload had its share of divorces, a thing she did not like to see. She’d always felt that this was preying upon people’s unhappiness or mistakes, whatever. She never could figure out how a couple who started their lives together, so totally in love, could wind up hating one another, or at the very least, wound up thoroughly wanting to get away from the situation they found themselves in.

  She poured her mug half full of coffee and took a bitter sip as she returned to her desk to wait. She was into her third sip of the less-than-perfect morning’s coffee when the door cracked open and a head peeked in.

  “Miss Martin?” the woman asked.

  “Yes. Please come in,” Layne replied, setting the mug down as she stood to greet the new client. The door opened and an obviously bottle-bleached blonde came in. She offered her hand, as
if expecting it to be kissed.

  “I’m Joyce Callaway,” she announced, glancing distastefully throughout the room, possibly looking for signs of contagion or suddenly wondering why on earth she chose this particular practice.

  “Layne Martin,” Layne introduced herself, grasping her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss . . . Is it Miss?”

  “Ms., actually,” she replied, emphasizing the Ms., “but only for a while longer.”

  “I see,” Layne said. “Anyway, what brings you here today? How can I be of service?”

  “Well,” Callaway started, “the problem is, I’m going to marry a man who wants a child.”

  “Um, a child?” That’s a problem? “What are your concerns about this, Ms. Callaway?”

  “I don’t want the child.”

  “Are you opposed to either of you using contraception?”

  “That’s not the problem. I just don’t want the child.”

  “So you’re pregnant now?” Layne ventured.

  “No, of course not.”

  Layne tried sorting through the confusion. Finally it dawned on her. “You don’t want the child, or you don’t want a child?” Layne asked.

  “I don’t want the child.”

  Okay, finally! “So, there already is a child that you don’t want?”

  “Yes. There already is a child that I don’t want!” Callaway replied, as if patiently explaining something to a grade-school child.

  Layne smothered a flash of anger. “Why don’t we sit down, Ms. Callaway?” Layne said, nodding to the comfortable chairs in the room. “We can discuss this in comfort.”

  Callaway inspected the chair closely before brushing away imaginary crumbs. “The problem is,” she continued, sitting once the cleanliness of the chair met with her approval, “he has a niece that he wants to take custody of. I don’t want the child to interfere with our marriage, our life together. She’s going to be a burden that I don’t want and we don’t need.”