“Four-wheel, horseback or both?” Gabe asked.
“Both. We’ll meet you there.”
He assumed by we she meant her father, Enrico and any available Small Change hands.
“I’ll call your father’s cell when we’re close.” He had Theo McGraw’s phone number, in case of an emergency, and Theo his.
“Call me,” Reese told him.
“You’re coming?”
“On my way now.” She didn’t wait for his response and disconnected.
Was she now? Gabe experienced a rush of anticipation. Passing his mother on his way out, he quickly filled her in on the problem and where he was going.
“Don’t rush, I’ll hold supper,” she promised.
He kissed her cheek before racing from the house to the horse stable, all the while mentally composing a to-do list. He’d send Violet and one of the hands by road in two of their four-wheel-drive quads. He’d go by horseback along with...
He spotted Cole, who’d been repairing a leak in the automatic watering system. Evidently, he was done, for he emerged from one of the stalls, toolbox in hand.
Gabe made a decision. “Where’s Josh?”
“He’s saddling up to ride out and tend the heifer with the skin lesions.”
“Good. We’re going in the same direction. You saddle up, too.”
Cole’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”
For a fraction of a second, Gabe saw his father in Cole’s face, and his gut tightened. It was less his features and more his expression.
How could that be? Cole had left the valley when he was five, never seeing their father again. Were things like expressions inherited?
Gabe cleared his throat. “We have a break in the fence on the west side of section nine. Our cattle are getting mixed in with those from the Small Change. I’m sending Violet by road. The three of us will ride out.”
“I’ll get Josh.” Cole set the toolbox by the tack room door.
“Meet you at the gate.”
Cole hurried off.
Gabe grabbed a halter from the tack room wall and headed straight to Bonita’s stall. He’d need a horse with good cow sense for this job. Leading her to the hitching rail outside the tack room, he saddled and bridled her.
While he worked, he thought about Cole. His brother hadn’t asked a lot of questions. Instead, he’d immediately set off in search of Josh. It was the kind of response Gabe would have expected from anyone who worked for him. The kind of response he’d expect from someone who understood the necessity of responding quickly in a crisis.
Okay, he’d give Cole credit for that, too. The real challenge, though, would come in an hour when they were separating the cattle and herding theirs back through the hole in the fence. He would see how well his brothers applied their rodeo skills to a real-life roundup.
Ten minutes later, the three of them were riding the back trail to section nine, the same trail he’d ridden the day he had found Reese trying to free her father’s horse trapped in the sinkhole. In the distance, Violet and Joey, a young hand who’d started working for Dos Estrellas this past summer, drove off in the Polaris quads. Twin plumes of dust rose from the rear wheels.
Before leaving, Violet had loaded the necessary tools and materials for repairing the fence into a crate strapped to the back of her quad. Maintaining the condition of the fences was her job, and Gabe had heard her disappointment with herself when they talked.
Once they arrived in section nine, separating the cattle wouldn’t be hard. Each one was marked with an identifying ear tag. In case there was a question, Violet carried the log with her.
The actual rounding up of the cattle would be done with both vehicles and horses. The quads could cover more ground at a faster rate while the horses could turn on a dime and maneuver in between cattle, cutting one out from the group and moving it in the desired direction.
If all went well, they’d be done by dark, three hours from now, and Gabe would be twenty minutes late for dinner at most. His brothers, too, as his mother insisted they share meals together despite the continued awkwardness.
“How far is it?” Josh asked. He kept pace easily with Gabe.
“Two miles.”
They pushed their horses along, alternating between a fast walk and a trot, depending on the terrain. They didn’t lope, not wanting to tire out their mounts. The wind increased the farther away from the ranch they traveled, making Gabe appreciate his heavy coat. Cole lifted the collar around his neck and fastened the snap.
Talk was at a minimum. Over the next rise, they reached the boundary of section six, part of the land designated to Cara’s mustang sanctuary.
A herd of orphaned yearlings, grazing peacefully a half mile away, raised their heads and whinnied. The next instant, they galloped eagerly toward Gabe and his brothers. Over a dozen in all, they formed a small stampede, coming to a lumbering halt and walking the last hundred yards to the fence where they stood bunched together, staring.
Neither Josh’s nor Cole’s horses reacted much, which was a good sign. They might indeed do well with the cattle despite seldom being ridden outside the rodeo arena.
Gabe and his brothers arrived at section nine. Violet and Joey had beaten them to the site of the broken fence, along with Reese, Enrico and two other hands from the Small Change. Theo McGraw, Gabe noticed, was absent. Strange. The man diligently watched the goings-on at his ranch like a hungry hawk.
About twenty head of cattle were being kept clustered together on the Dos Estrellas side of the fence. Twice that many were on the Small Change side. Violet threaded her way through the nervous cattle on foot, verifying the ear tags. She spotted Gabe and motioned to him.
He waved in return, but didn’t ride over. He had seen Reese. She sat astride her father’s horse, wind tossing the hair peeking out from beneath her cowboy hat.
She made a striking picture, and Gabe wanted a closer look. To get there, he had to ride through the hole in the fence. Violet hailed him before he made it.
“Gabe, we have a couple injured heifers here. You should have a look.”
Work came first, he thought with more than a little disappointment and reluctantly turned Bonita around.
* * *
GABE AND COLE pushed the last Dos Estrellas calf through the hole in the fence and onto ranch property. Bawling loudly, the calf ran to join its mother and the rest of the herd meandering down the hillside and the long stretch of flat land ahead. In just over two hours they’d finished dividing the cattle and treating the two heifers with nasty lacerations on their legs. His brothers had performed well, demonstrating skill and taking instruction without complaint.
They weren’t the only ones. Reese, too, had done her share. She was a competent horsewoman, and years away from her father’s ranch hadn’t affected her abilities. She was Theo McGraw’s daughter, all right. Born into the life.
Except, she hadn’t chosen it and, instead, worked in a bank, which also suited her.
Watching her dismount and help Violet with the fence repair, he decided he liked her better in jeans and boots than slacks and dress shoes, though she certainly wore the business attire well. Maybe he liked her in anything.
“Gabe, can you lend us a hand?” Violet shouted. She and Reese were struggling with the posthole digger.
He was more than happy to oblige and pushed Bonita ahead, ignoring Josh’s questioning look and Cole’s dubious one. Dismounting, he dropped the reins to the ground, confident Bonita would stand obediently. She didn’t disappoint him and, lowering her head, nuzzled at the sparse tufts of grass.
Therein was the problem. If not for grass being in short supply, the cattle wouldn’t have gone searching for, as the saying went, greener pastures.
He would need to talk to his brothers about supplemental feed. And soon.
>
Reese handed the posthole digger to Gabe. Their gazes connected briefly, and a lovely smile touched her lips, mesmerizing him and reminding him of Thanksgiving when he’d tasted—
Reluctantly, he looked away. He didn’t allow his eyes to linger, not with Violet standing right there. His livestock foreman wasn’t blind or stupid.
Holding the posthole digger with both hands, he raised it level with his head, then drove it forcefully into the ground. The shovel blades hit with a solid thunk. Squeezing the two handles together, he lifted the posthole digger and deposited the dirt into a nearby pile started by Violet and Reese.
They’d been right to request his help; the ground was dry and hard.
“I heard from Banner Hay Sales today,” Reese said. “One of their clients backed out, leaving them with ten semitrucks of hay for sale. They offered me a deal.”
She named the price, and Gabe paused momentarily in his digging. Winter was a bad time of year to buy hay, prices were typically high. While still costly, the price Reese quoted was good. Better than good. And wasn’t he thinking of talking to his brothers about supplemental feed?
“We can’t afford ten trucks.”
Thwank! The sound the shovel blades made when they hit the ground echoed inside Gabe’s chest.
“I thought we could split the purchase,” Reese said. “Five trucks each.”
He sensed Violet’s impatience. She knew how important it was they have enough feed to survive the winter. Five truckloads wouldn’t last them through more than a couple of weeks, but it might make all the difference.
Thwank! Another shovelful of dirt was added to the growing pile.
“We’d have to borrow from the line of credit.”
“Yes.” Reese adjusted her leather gloves.
“You’d approve the draw?”
“I wouldn’t have mentioned the hay purchase otherwise.”
Gabe slammed the posthole digger into the ground again, with such force, the shovel blades clanged loudly.
Reese was doing her job, seeing to the financial security of Dos Estrellas, of which the line of credit was a part. Yet, it galled Gabe. She wouldn’t give him the money for buying more cattle, a practically guaranteed way of growing the herd. She would, however, authorize a draw to purchase hay, something that was her idea.
“How long do I have to decide?” he asked.
Confusion flashed in her eyes. She had assumed he’d readily agree. “Banner gave us until tomorrow. They have other buyers,” she added.
Her comment struck Gabe as a threat rather than an incentive. If he were to decline, Dos Estrellas alone would suffer. The Small Change could easily afford five truckloads of hay. They could afford all ten trucks.
Violet’s stare burned into Gabe.
“I’ll let you know,” he said.
“We can’t wait,” Reese protested.
Thwank! “You said I have until tomorrow.”
She expelled a long breath. “Fine. Ten o’clock is our deadline. You should probably discuss this with your brothers.”
That irked Gabe more than her blatant power struggle. Without a word, he handed Violet the posthole digger, which she carried to the quad and secured to the crate with a pair of bungee cords.
“We don’t have to do this,” Reese told Gabe when they were alone.
“Do what?”
“Fight.”
“I’m not fighting with you.”
“Proving who’s in charge, then.”
“You said it. Not me.”
She groaned. “Think about what your father would have done. We both know he’d buy the hay.”
“And you can predict his behavior because the two of you were so close.”
“I told you before, I barely spoke to him. But I did live next door to him for years and listened to my father talk about him all my life. Your father was smart, and he put the herd first. The entire ranch.”
Gabe didn’t need a talking-to. Not from Reese and not with their employees and his brothers in the nearby vicinity. He knew buying the hay was a good decision. And if he’d used the line of credit to purchase additional cattle, the hay would have depleted the line faster. What he resented was Reese calling the shots and reminding him he had to confer with his brothers. He should be the one making the decisions. No one else.
Picking up the fence post, he slammed it into the hole he’d dug. “Hold this,” he ordered.
Reese grabbed the top of the post and kept it steady while he filled the opening with dirt and packed it down. By the time he finished, Violet had returned. Using a pair of pliers, she reattached the barbed wire to the post. When the fence was secure, Gabe started for his horse.
Reese appeared beside him. “Gabe.”
“Is there something else?”
She hesitated, peering over his shoulder as if making sure they weren’t being overheard. “I don’t want it to be like this between us.”
“You can’t have it both ways.” He didn’t slow his pace to accommodate her shorter strides. “We’re either friends—more than friends—or you’re the trustee of my father’s estate and the one running Dos Estrellas.”
“Not running the ranch. I simply oversee the finances.”
“There’s a fine line. Especially since you’re the one authorizing the purchases.”
“We need to get along.”
“Then quit kissing me,” he snapped.
“You made the first move!”
“You’re right. My fault.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Several seconds passed, silent except for the sound of her soft panting and the crunch of their boots on the rocky ground.
She gave in first. “Don’t let your personal feelings regarding me interfere with you making the best decision for the ranch.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Gabe reached Bonita’s side. The mare hadn’t moved but a few feet. Patting her neck, he lifted the reins over her head and mounted.
Gabe rode off with his brothers, following in the wake of Violet and Joey on the quads. His last sight was of Enrico joining Reese before he helped her crawl through the fence and onto Small Change land.
“You two have a fight?” Cole asked. He sat easy in the saddle, not showing the least sign of fatigue despite putting in a full day. Josh, neither.
They were good workers. Gabe would give them that.
“Banner Hay Sales has ten semitruck loads of hay for sale at a fair price,” he said, hating he was doing exactly as Reese had suggested. “Reese will authorize a draw from the line of credit if we want to buy it.”
We. There it was again.
“Aren’t we going to need hay?” Josh asked matter-of-factly. He clearly hadn’t let Reese’s position as trustee get under his skin.
They rode three abreast down the hillside. In the distance, the cattle they’d driven from the Small Change grazed on the sparse grass. By nightfall, they would join the main herd.
“Yeah, we’ll need it,” Gabe agreed with his brother.
“You tell her yes?”
“Said I’d—we’d—decide and call her in the morning.”
“Why wait?”
Gabe pulled his horse up short. His brothers did the same.
“If we buy the hay, we’re going to have to commit to maintaining the herd through the winter.” Like their father’s plan called for. “Find a means to purchase more supplemental hay. Not sell off stock.”
“Didn’t we already decide?” Josh asked.
“It’s another debt. We’d have to make monthly interest payments.”
“What’s the weather forecast?” Cole asked.
“No rain for at least two weeks.”
“Then we don’t have a choice.”
Cole’s sudden change of heart made Gabe wary. “All you want is to sell the ranch.”
“You and Josh won’t agree to that, which leaves me stuck here.”
“Not a good enough answer.”
“What do you want from me?” Cole’s voice carried an unmistakable edge.
“One year.” Gabe couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. All he’d wanted since his brothers first arrived at Mustang Valley was for them to leave. “We agree right here and now to give it our best effort. Grow the herd and pay off as many of Dad’s medical bills as we can. Plus the interest on the line of credit. At the end of one year, we can discuss selling the ranch.”
“You’d agree to sell?” Cole eyed him suspiciously.
“Yes.”
“And if we aren’t in a position to sell?”
“We will be, as long as we work our tails off.”
Cole looked to Josh, and his brother nodded. “All right. One year.”
Gabe held out his hand to Cole, who shook it. He then did the same with Josh.
“How ’bout that.” Cole grinned.
No doubt he was happy. He saw himself getting a bundle for his share of the ranch at the end of a year. Josh, too, would have more than enough to take care of his children.
Gabe pushed Bonita ahead. He was okay with his brothers believing they were going to get out from under the burden of Dos Estrellas. In reality, he had every intention of being that buyer for the ranch and much sooner than a year. To accomplish his goal, he’d need to play by Reese’s rules.
The thought left a bad taste in his mouth.
Chapter Eight
Gabe dragged the last box of Christmas lights across the attic floor to the edge of the opening. He carefully lowered himself down the ladder one step at a time. When his shoulders were level with the opening, he grabbed the box of lights and carried them down to the garage floor.
Thank goodness this was a once-a-year job. Twice a year, if he counted a month from now when he’d be carting the half dozen boxes of lights back up to the attic.
His mother was getting a head start this year. Thanksgiving was just ten days ago. Usually, she waited until closer to Christmas to start decorating the house. Not decorating last year—his father had been too sick—made her want to go all-out this season.
Her Holiday Rancher Page 10