The Rancher's Conditions

by R. S. Chapman

  Layne thought for a moment. Why the hell couldn’t she have explained that from the start? “How soon are you getting married? How much time do we have?”

  “Well, there’s no set date yet. In fact,” the woman added with a wicked grin, “he doesn’t know he’s getting married.”

  Interesting. “I guess I don’t understand. He’s getting married, but doesn’t know it yet?”

  Joyce Callaway nodded with a smile. “No clue. No clue whatsoever.”

  “Oh. Um, this is probably something he’ll want to know before the occasion.” This is a new one, Layne thought, weird but interesting as hell. “How, and when, is he going to find out?”

  “I’ve yet to decide that, but the thing is, I want you to see that the kid stays where she is, and does not become a part of our family.”

  Wow, this lady is a winner. “Okay then, let’s see what we can do,” Layne said slowly, reaching for the pad and pencil. She was finding it impossible to like this woman. “Where is the child now?”

  “With a grandmother.”

  Layne nodded. “Okay, so a grandmother has the child. Where are they physically? Do you know where they live?”

  “I’m not sure. Somewhere in Louisiana, I believe.”

  Glad we got that pinpointed. “And I understand that we’re talking about a girl?”

  “Yes, a girl.”

  “Parents divorced?” Layne questioned, still busy writing.

  “Dead.”

  Layne put the pencil down. These one-word answers could take all day, but were starting to sound familiar. “Let’s take this from the beginning, Ms. Callaway. Why don’t you tell me a little history about the situation? The girl’s parents are deceased, and presently she’s living with a grandmother?”

  “Yes, the dead husband’s mother.”

  Five words. An improvement. “Okay. From the beginning now?”

  “This is all confidential, right?”

  “Nothing goes beyond this office, yes,” Layne replied, although she was going to love sharing this conversation with Barb. After all, she was within the confines of the office . . .

  That seemed to satisfy her. “Well,” Callaway continued, squirming around in the chair and smoothing her dress to make herself comfortable, “the parents were killed in an automobile accident, with no will or next of kin, other than the mother of the husband and the brother of the wife. The grandmother just took the child.”

  This was sounding strangely familiar, but Layne continued. “There was no court order?”

  Callaway shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. I think she just took her from the hospital after she recovered from her injuries in the accident. The brother, my future husband, was single. Well, he still is, so he just let it go. I mean, what was he going to do with a little three-year-old?” She paused, frowning. “Who wants her? Who needs her?”

  “How old is the child now?”

  “About six, I suppose. Anyway,” Callaway continued, seemingly irked by Layne’s interruptions, “now he seems to think he wants to have the kid. Wants her to live with him, with us. He wants to bring the kid up, things like that. I don’t want a kid around unless it’s a kid of my own, and that’s all there is to it.”

  What a bitch. “So, where do I come in? What would you like me to do?”

  “Well, he’s. . .”

  “By he, you mean your husband-to-be?”

  “Of course, my husband-to-be. To continue,” Calloway said with a slight roll of her eyes, “he says that if he has to, he’ll go to court to get her.” Callaway looked hard at Layne. “This is where you come in. I want you to stop that. If he goes to court, I’ll pay you to represent the old lady, so she wins the case and keeps the kid. And obviously, my future husband cannot know I have anything to do with this.”

  Layne took a short moment to finish scribbling a few notes. “Okay,” she said, tapping the pencil on the pad. She hoped against hope that she was wrong, but things were starting to add up and fall into place. “Let’s get some names here. The grandmother?”

  “I have no idea.”

  That helps. “The deceased parents?”

  “I think, but I’m not sure, could it be Reed?”

  “I don’t know. I’m asking you,” Layne replied, fighting to avoid rolling her eyes, but pleased that she got in something.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Reed. Let’s go with Reed, but I’ll find out for sure and let you know.”

  “Okay. And . . . your husband to be, his name?” Layne held her breath, knowing what Calloway’s reply would be.

  “Rivers. Erik Rivers, you may have heard of him. He’s very well known in Texas. Well, everywhere, actually.”

  Layne sent her pencil rolling off the desk as a surprising jolt flashed through her. Even though her premonitions were correct, the realization that Erik Rivers was going to marry this woman stunned her completely.

  “Yes,” Layne finally managed, fighting to control the surprising wave of emotion welling up inside her. “I’ve heard of him. I mean, who hasn’t?” She tried to block the images of him rolling through her jumbled mind, but it was no use. She could not. Erik had been in and out of her thoughts occasionally in the past six weeks, but that was all. They’d had no relationship. Besides, she totally, absolutely totally, disliked the man. So why should she feel this way?

  “Once we’re married, the first thing I’m going to do,” Callaway vowed, “is get rid of that farm. The entire place smells like cows and cow poop.”

  “I guess it’s called a ranch, here in Texas,” Layne replied with a forced smile. “And ranches have cows.” Oh, she loved getting that one in!

  “Whatever. Farm, ranch, what’s the difference? It’s no place for a lady. Certainly no place for me. We’re going to move into San Antonio. I’ve found a realtor who knows of a beautiful house that will be coming up for sale sometime soon. I’ve seen it, and I’m going to remodel an entire bedroom into my closet, my very own closet for my very own new things. My man is very, very rich.” She smiled wickedly. “And I’m surely going to help him spend our money!”

  “Oh.” Layne nodded, trying to control her emotions. “Does your man know about this? Selling that ranch may prove difficult and take some time.”

  “No, he doesn’t know about it yet, but he certainly will. I’ll have my ways of persuading him.”

  Marrying this Callaway person? He was just too intelligent for that. He had to be! “If he wants a prenup, you’d better let me see it before you sign anything,” Layne said. It was something she had to say. Erik needed to be protected, whether she disliked him or not. On the other hand, she could not fathom Erik marrying someone like this.

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m sure I can talk him out of anything like a prenup. He’ll be wrapped around my little finger,” Callaway said, holding up a pinky finger. She stood and brushed imaginary lint from her dress. “Is that all the information you need?”

  “It’s a good start,” Layne replied, “but I’ll need a retainer in order to go ahead with this. Two thousand dollars to begin with.” She hoped this would be a deal-breaker, but Callaway opened her purse and wrote a check to her.

  “Thank you,” Layne said, taking the check and placing it on her desk. “I’ll keep you informed as we go along.” She watched Callaway open the door to leave, then quickly asked another question. She just had to. “Are you, um, living with him now? I should know if I need to contact you.”

  “No, not yet,” the woman said. “So far we haven’t even slept together, but believe me, when we do, there will be no contraception. And it sure won’t be The Amateur Hour,” she smiled, closing the door behind her.

  That was certainly a mental picture worth blotting out. Layne watched as the door closed and realized she still had the surprising emptiness in her hear
t. What was she thinking? What was going on? She disliked this man beyond words and what he’d planned to do to her. And yet the heartache was real, definitely real.

  Chapter 5

  Layne realized there was nothing to do until Rivers brought his petition to court, if in fact he did bring it, and she’d certainly keep an eye on the court’s docket. Plus, with a couple friends in the Wellington practice, she’d ask to be notified of any developments in that regard.

  But in the meantime, as soon as she got confirmation from Callaway as to the grandmother’s name, she could begin tracking her whereabouts. Her daily work schedule would not be affected by a few well-placed telephone calls and a bit of digging into the Texas statues concerning grandparents’ custody rights. She was aware that the Texas ‘Best Interest of the Child’ guidelines fully supported a grandparent’s rights for visitation and custody, and fully acknowledged the ability for grandparents to provide a positive and stable environment. This was as good a starting point as any.

  Finally, with a tired sigh, Layne pushed away from her desk and went to the bookshelf. She studied their meager library, perusing what few books they had before choosing one and returning to the desk. She opened the book and stared at it sightlessly, her thoughts preoccupied with images of Erik Rivers and the woman he appeared doomed to marry . . .

  ~ ~ ~

  “And that’s what the conversation was about,” Layne told Barb as they sat in their neighborhood restaurant, picking at their salads. She told her the entire story of Callaway’s desire to stop the child from joining their family, once she married Rivers. She included the fact that Rivers had no idea he was going to marry this woman, which in itself was an interesting topic of their conversation.

  “He has no idea?” Barb repeated in surprise.

  “Apparently not. According to Callaway, it’s merely a matter of time. She said he’s wrapped around her little finger. And worst of all, she thinks she can talk him out of a prenup. That would be total disaster for him.”

  “I truly find it difficult to picture Erik Rivers wrapped around anybody’s little finger,” Barb said before pausing for a brief moment. “How, um, how do you feel about this? His marrying her?”

  “I have no feelings. None whatsoever. He can do what he wants.”

  Barb balanced a forkful of salad as she gazed hard and long at Layne. “You’re my roommate, my business partner, and most of all, my best friend, so cut the shit. I’ll ask again. How do you feel?”

  Layne returned Barb’s gaze for a moment. “Oh crap. I don’t know. The last time I saw him, I thoroughly did not like him, close to hate, I suppose. I threatened to have him arrested for kidnapping. How, and why, do I feel this way now?”

  “Maybe it’s because we don’t miss someone until we lose them?”

  “I surely do not miss my cheating fiancé.”

  “But you do feel something for Rivers.” A statement, not a question.

  “I don’t know,” Layne replied. “Maybe it’s jealousy, but I think it’s mostly concern.”

  “Well, if it’s jealousy, then you do care. If it’s concern, then you also care,” Barb argued.

  Layne played with her salad for a moment, and once it was rearranged to her liking, she looked up at Barb. “I’ll pay you twenty dollars if you stop with the questions and advice.” Layne sorted through her purse and pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill and put it on the table.

  Barb ignored the bill, but did change the subject. “Okay, I’m done. The county fair starts tomorrow. Wanna go?”

  Layne agreed immediately. She loved fairs, roaming through the midway, watching barkers hawking their wares. She loved tasting whatever samples there were to sample, but she especially loved the scary thrill of fast and high rides. The Ferris wheel was her favorite high ride. She could gaze out over the entire countryside, while her favorite thrill ride always had been the roller coaster. Oh yes, she’d be at the fair!

  “Absolutely!” she replied, picking up the twenty from the table and placing it back into her purse. “The whole damn weekend.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Friday afternoon, when their workday ended, Layne and Barb hurried to their apartment before quickly sorting through the closets and changing into comfortable clothes and walking shoes. Full of excitement, they were off to the fair.

  ~ ~ ~

  Their first stop, as they roamed the busy midway, was for food. Layne got a pure Chicago hot dog, heaped high with sauerkraut and relish, while Barb settled for a slice of pizza from a familiar local vendor.

  “Love this pizza,” she said with a mouthful between bites. “His place used to be my favorite hangout.”

  Hotdog and pizza slice in hand, they continued roaming the midway until they reached the grandstand area. Barb read the billboard list of activities. “There’s a horse show starting in about ten minutes, and after that, a band’s gonna be playing.” She turned to Layne. “Are you interested?”

  “Sure, whatever.” Layne nodded, much aware of Barb’s interest in anything with a cowboy attached. She seriously needed a boyfriend. “Let’s go get some good seats down in front.”

  Since the stands were just starting to fill, they had their choice of seats, choosing to sit as close to the track as possible. Cowboys and their mounts were gathered in the infield, getting ready and lining up for the parade. A pure white mare, mounted with a saddle of inlaid silver and hand-tooled leather, stood ready at the front of the assembling horses and their riders. This was immediately Layne’s favorite, and she kept her eyes on it, wherever it went. It was a beautiful horse.

  One by one, the cowboys were mounting their horses, and it wasn’t long before she saw a cowboy walking straight to the white horse and swinging effortlessly into the saddle. How she wished she could swing into a saddle like that.

  “As soon as I get rich and famous,” Layne said, turning to Barb, “I’ve decided I’ll was going to have a horse - my very own horse. The horse is going to be the easy part. The rich and famous part, maybe not . . .”

  She was intently watching the prancing horse when her eyes widened in recognition. The rider had taken off his hat to wipe away the perspiration, and by doing so, Erik River’s head was totally exposed!

  Layne’s gaze did not leave him. Her eyes could not leave his face. It had been a while, almost two months, since she’d last seen him, and he was even better looking than she remembered. A strange, deep yearning washed through her as she watched his every move, controlling the horse with gentle leg pressure. She had no reason to have a yearning. What was the matter with her?

  Barb sat with an amused expression, watching Layne focus in on Erik. “Looks good, huh?” she commented.

  “What?” Layne answered absentmindedly, fixated on Erik.

  “Looks good, doesn’t he?” Barb repeated.

  “Who?”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Layne!” Barb shot back in exasperation. “You know who. The guy you’re drooling over right now. That’s who.”

  “It’s the horse, Einstein. I love that horse!”

  Barb just shrugged and smiled. “Whatever.”

  Layne’s eyes remained glued on Erik as the cowboys paraded past the grandstands, but finally, when the show was over, in order not to trip or walk into someone as they left, she had to tear away. Her thoughts were now refreshed with a new image of him, and she was happy to settle for that. But why, she did not know . . .

  Back through the midway, they stopped again for another hotdog and slice of pizza that they nibbled as they roamed the grounds. “Finally!” Layne exclaimed, nodding to the rides. “The rides!” Ahead of them was the Ferris wheel, and beyond that, the roller coaster, both looming high in the sky.

  “What should we do first?” She turned to Barb, whose eyes were big as saucers, gazing upon the mighty structures. “The Ferris wheel
or the roller coaster?”

  “You’re kidding, of course,” Barb replied, gazing up at the tall structures. “Do you honestly, in your wildest dreams, think I’m getting on or in one, or close to, those death rides?”

  “Oh, come on,” Layne pleaded, “they’re just rides. Perfectly safe. Don’t make me go alone. Please?”

  “You’re afraid, too?” Barb joked mirthlessly, her gaze still locked high in the sky at the highest point of the ride.

  “No, I’m not afraid. I just want company. I want your company. You should experience these rides, Barb, you’ll be a better person for doing it.”

  “On the other hand, I will experience still being alive for not doing it. I think I’ll go that route.” Barb pointed to where the Ferris wheel ride loaded and the riders got off. “I’ll be close by, if you live through it.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Erik and Phil, his ranch foreman, walked down the midway, remnants of hot dogs firmly in hand.

  “Should’ve got more relish,” Phil said, turning the wiener-filled bun to examine it. “They never put enough on these damn things!”

  After Phil’s complaint, Erik examined his. “Well, I sure got my money’s worth in mustard.” He turned to his foreman. “Do I have any on my chin? It’s all over my hand.”

  “Nope, you’re okay.”

  Erik wiped his chin, just in case, and that was when he saw Layne walking to the Ferris wheel ticket booth. As he watched, an idea struck. If he approached just right, he could work his way closer without being seen and get into the same chair. It had to be at the very last possible moment, to be locked into the seat and the chair seconds away from starting its climb to the top. She’d have no way of escape and would be forced to hear his apology.