The Texas Rancher's Return

by Allie Pleiter

  An earthquake. That ought to do it. Just send a small earthquake about 1:00 p.m., Lord, so I can call this whole circus to a halt. Gunner settled his hat on his head, muttering about pushy little girls and stubborn old women. Tornado, thunderstorm—I ain’t picky, Lord. Just get me out of this.

  Chapter Three

  “Why do they call it the Blue Thorn Ranch?” Audie piped up from the backseat as Brooke pulled her little car up to the gate that marked the ranch’s entrance. A tall framework of timbers with BT at the center stood over a metal gate that joined two stretches of sturdy metal fencing.

  “Every member of the Buckton family has bright blue eyes,” Brooke answered. “But I don’t know about the thorn part—we’ll have to ask.” Brooke punched a button on the keypad mounted by the drive, announced herself and the gates slid open along the fence line. A wide-open landscape lay before them, mounds of grass stretching between clusters of trees. Ahead and to the left, the stone house and a series of outbuildings and barns formed the family compound.

  “Look.” Brooke pointed to three bison enjoying the shade of a large tree.

  “I see them!” Audie cheered. “Wow, they are big.”

  Audie began scribbling in a small notebook, a tiny pink-hued reporter hungry for her story. Even if she had her reservations, Brooke couldn’t have denied her daughter this field trip for all the world. Besides, she reasoned with herself, if Buckton was really as grumpy as her earlier encounter led her to believe, at least the grandmother sounded friendly. Adele Buckton was something of a legend in these parts, one of the old-school ranching families with ties to the land that went back something like four generations. In its heyday, Blue Thorn Ranch had been twice its current size and home to some of the state’s prize cattle. Adele Buckton’s social and philanthropic standing still cast a shadow that was long and wide, even in the woman’s advancing years.

  The ranch clearly had seen better days, with some of its former grandeur showing signs of wear and tear, but everything was solidly durable and clearly built to last. Some ranches were all about the flash—big showy things with massive houses to match. This place seemed... Authentic was the word that came to mind. Sturdy, sensible, determined to stick out the tough times—that was how the place felt as Brooke turned her car up the path toward the house. She looked forward to meeting Adele Buckton.

  “I hope Daisy’s feeling friendly today,” Audie said, reaching into her pink gingham backpack. “I brought her some Goldfish just in case she’s hungry.” She produced a baggie of the snack crackers, holding it high so Brooke could see it in the rearview mirror.

  Brooke pictured the reaction that would get from Buckton—and it wasn’t a charmed smile. “I’m not so sure bison go for Goldfish, honey. Maybe your first question to Mr. Buckton should be to ask what she likes to eat.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one.” Audie scribbled a note to herself, tongue sticking out in eight-year-old journalistic integrity. “But it’s only three index cards and a diorama, so I don’t think I’ll need to know much.”

  The main house was made of tan stone, wrapped with a huge front porch stretching on either side of a big front door. Dormer windows peeked from the second story, and a pair of ancient trees threw dappled shadows onto the front lawn. A picnic table was set with a blue gingham tablecloth and a tin pitcher of wildflowers. The place gave off all the welcome Gunner’s tone had not.

  This visit was a risk, but Brooke couldn’t ever resist a chance to indulge Audie’s curiosity. Her daughter’s inquisitive nature and bold personality were so very much like her daddy’s that it never failed to raise a lump in Brooke’s throat. So what if it meant pressing a favor from a grump like Gunner Buckton?

  He came out onto the house’s wide front porch, his steps the lazy saunter Brooke associated with all Texas cowboys. A big man, he seemed to tower over his grandmother as she came out beside him, leaning heavily on a blond wood cane with a silver handle.

  Getting out of the car, Brooke took the walk up to the porch to take in the man she’d only briefly met yesterday. Gunner’s bright blue eyes were just like the older woman’s, now that she could clearly see his face rather than squinting up at him as she had yesterday. Mr. Markham had indeed told her about the family trait of turquoise eyes—all the Buckton children and grandchildren had them. The grandmother’s were warm, friendly and sparkling. Gunner’s were cool, clear and intense. The kind of eyes you couldn’t stop looking at even though they made you uneasy.

  As they reached the porch, Brooke found herself meeting the man’s gaze with a friendly “let’s just all try to get along” expression.

  “Afternoon,” he said in a dry tone that translated roughly to I know that you know that I don’t want to do this.

  Audie, as she always did, plowed full speed ahead. “Hi there. I’m Audie Calder, and I’m here to interview Daisy.” She waltzed herself right up the pair of low stairs to Mrs. Buckton—smart choice, Brooke mused to herself—and extended a hand.

  “And so you are.” Adele Buckton’s face broke into a broad smile. “I am so very pleased to meet you, young lady. I like a gal who goes at her research with gusto.”

  Brooke walked up to Gunner and said quietly, “Thanks for this, but I do remember you saying Daisy could be irritable. Are you sure this will be okay?”

  Gunner pushed his hat back on his head. “For any other animal I’d say maybe it would be a problem. We do have plenty of bison who don’t much take to folks. Only, I think Daisy will be okay. And whatever questions Daisy fails to answer—” his eyes took on just a sliver of a cordiality “—Gran and I can fill in the blanks.”

  “Can I get my picture with her? For the report?” Audie asked.

  “I think we can manage that,” Mrs. Buckton replied. “And when we’re done, you just happened to come on a day when I made cookies.”

  Gunner raised one eyebrow in a suspicious glance at his grandmother that told Brooke just how much of a “coincidence” that really was.

  “Thank you,” Brooke offered again, meaning it. “I know you’re busy and...”

  “Nothin’ to it.” Gunner cut her off. “We’re all about community awareness out here.” The words sounded recited, as if he didn’t really mean them.

  “Really?” she replied. “I didn’t take you as the kind to welcome visitors.”

  “I’m not the kind to welcome DelTex, if that’s what you mean.”

  Brooke stood as tall as she could. “I’m not here from DelTex, Mr. Buckton. I’m just a mom with a little girl who wants to do a school report.”

  Gunner pushed out a breath. “Well, in that case, more people need to understand how important the bison are and value them. The bison—and all of us—need the land to thrive. That’s something people need to understand.”

  “Especially third graders,” Audie offered.

  “And maybe a few big companies I could name,” Gunner added in low tones.

  Brooke squared her shoulders, trying not to feel small against the man’s broad stance. Having met the grandmother, she noted his features took on an odd duality—so like Mrs. Buckton’s and yet with such a different attitude. “How about,” she said as quietly as she could, “we agree to leave the politics out of this and just let a little girl write a report?”

  He shot her a dubious look, crossing his lean arms over his broad chest as Mrs. Buckton took Audie’s hand and they stepped down off the porch to walk toward a series of outbuildings. “Is that even possible?” he said the moment the pair was out of earshot.

  “Do you really think I set this up as some kind of stunt for work? That I’d use my own daughter to weasel my way onto your land?”

  His resulting expression told her that was exactly what Gunner Buckton thought. “You work for DelTex.”

  “Look, your family may have a file inches thick and a long, thorny—” she us
ed the word on purpose “—history with my boss, but I assure you, I haven’t studied it. That’s not even my department, and at this moment it’s definitely not my concern. This is about Mrs. Cleydon’s third-grade class and nothing else. If you want to blame someone for setting the whole thing in motion, blame Daisy.”

  “Daisy did what bison do. You’re the one who sicced your daughter on my grandma.”

  Brooke put her hand to her forehead. “She said she needed to learn about buffalo and I’d run into a buffalo...bison,” she corrected when his eyes narrowed, “just hours earlier. Any parent would have done the same thing.”

  “Would any parent have let her daughter do the asking so that I’d look like a heel if I said no?”

  He had her there. Brooke knew letting Audie make the call worked in her favor. But the truth was Audie was fearless and wanted to make the call. Brooke hadn’t talked Audie into anything, but she was guilty of knowing that putting Audie on the phone increased her chances of success. Really, was that so awful if it made today’s visit possible?

  An argument wouldn’t help Audie get her interview, so Brooke squelched her frustration at Gunner and let out a long, slow exhale. “Are you going to let Audie meet Daisy? Because if you’re not, then I think it’s best I go get her now. But,” she added with an effort to keep the edge out of her voice, “I’d really appreciate if you would.”

  Gunner exhaled himself, although it sounded far too much like a hiss through his teeth. “No, I’ll do it. I’d never hear the end of it from Gran if I didn’t.” He turned to look at her. “I have your word this isn’t a setup?”

  It was common knowledge that there was no love lost between the Bucktons and Mr. Markham, but it was a little chilling to see how deep the enmity ran. Brooke wasn’t fool enough to miss that her boss had his share of critics—every successful man did—but she couldn’t shake the way this man’s glare settled in the pit of her stomach. “I promise you this is just what it seems—a little girl doing a project for school. One she’s really excited about.”

  Brooke lowered her voice and swallowed her pride. “Since my husband died, things have been a bit on the tight side, and I don’t get to pull off many amazing-mom moments. I’d be grateful if we could make this one stick.”

  A squeal, followed by peals of little-girl-and-old-lady laughter, came from the barn. “Okay,” Gunner said. He gave her a look just a few notches softer than his previous glare. “For science and all.”

  “For science,” she echoed as they stepped off the porch in unison. And not-so-amazing single moms everywhere, she added silently.

  * * *

  Audie looked shocked once they turned the corner to the small fenced-in yard where Daisy was currently being held to keep her wandering tendencies in check. “Mr. Buckton, she’s peeling!”

  Gunner had to laugh at that. Daisy’s coat was sloughing off in big batches, but he’d never thought of it as peeling before. “Well, actually, she’s just losing her winter coat. It’s called molting.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “I suppose it itches. She and the other bison rub up against things to help the old hair come off.”

  Audie cocked her head to one side, braids bobbing. “Doesn’t she need her hair?”

  “Yes, but not that hair. It’s too thick for spring.” Okay, so maybe he was enjoying this a tiny bit. Still, he wasn’t going to give Brooke Calder the satisfaction of letting it show. He pointed to Daisy as she stood on the far side of the pen. “Daisy has lots of different kinds of hair on her body, which she uses in lots of different ways.” Audie stood on the fence rails, her tiny shoulders coming up to Gunner’s chest as he pointed out parts of the animal. “The big long eyelashes keep the dust out of her eyes so she can see. And even though she’s molting out of her winter layer now, she still has her undercoat—that’s the thick fuzzy part underneath that keeps her cool in the summer and warm in the winter.”

  Audie turned to look at Gunner, wobbling enough on the fence to make Brooke send a protective arm out around her daughter. As she stood on Audie’s other side, Gunner noticed that Brooke wasn’t much taller than her boosted-up daughter. She might barely meet his shoulder if she stood on tiptoe. Her hair was a creamy honey-blond—much lighter than the dark brown of her daughter’s braids, but they looked a lot alike. Except for the eyes—the eyes were totally different. Audie had big brown eyes, whereas Brooke’s were a compelling hazel-green. If DelTex had handpicked her to appeal to him, they’d done their homework. She wasn’t one of those fussy, bottle-blonde women many men liked; he preferred her down-home, sensible kind of cute. Had he met her under other circumstances, if she worked anywhere but where she worked, he would definitely have taken an interest. As it was, cute enemies were still enemies. And kids? Not really his thing.

  “Do you ever have to cut her hair to get it out of her way?” Audie’s wide eyes brought his attention back to the lesson at hand.

  “No. Even when she isn’t molting, she rubs up against trees and even some special brushes we set out. So it’s more like she combs it out herself. She needs her coat—we wouldn’t want to take it away from her. But the parts she’s done with can be used in plenty of different ways. The long beard hairs under her chin? Fishermen tell me they make the best flies for fishing. And some people make yarn from the hair she sheds.” He was glad Audie kept asking about the fur. It was a safer topic than...

  “Mackenzie’s Diner by our house sells bison burgers.” Audie wrinkled up her nose in thought as she ventured onto the one topic Gunner had hoped to avoid.

  He felt his stomach drop a few inches and caught Brooke’s panicked eyes over her daughter’s head. He shot a look to Gran, who didn’t seem at all inclined to take this one for him. This was why he didn’t do field trips. There was no safe way to explain slaughter—even carefully humane slaughter—to someone in pigtails with a pink gingham backpack. He ran a hand over his chin, scrambling for an answer. “Yes, people eat bison meat.” He dearly hoped the simple truth would settle the matter, but he highly doubted Brooke Calder’s superinquisitive daughter would let it go at that.

  She didn’t. “Do you?”

  It was dumb to think the subject wouldn’t come up—most people in this small town of Martins Gap knew Blue Thorn for the quality of its meat. If he did his job right, all of Austin would know soon, as well. There seemed no point in lying. “I do. It’s very tasty.”

  “And it’s all kind of good for you, too.” Now Gran piped up. Thanks for all the help here, Gran. “Have you ever tasted it?”

  “No. But I’ve seen chickens and I eat them. Seen cows and eaten them, too. I had beef tacos last night. Every Friday’s Tacos for Two night.”

  Brooke went pink, and Gunner tried unsuccessfully to swallow his laugh. “No foolin’?” Then, because it felt safe to do so, he added, “We’re not fixing to eat Daisy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “We’re careful to take care of the mamas and their babies here,” Gran added.

  That seemed to settle the subject to Audie’s satisfaction. “That’s good,” the little girl said, and Gunner felt the same relief he could see in Brooke’s eyes.

  “Bison have families, just like people,” Gran went on. “We keep family groups together because it makes the bison happy.”

  “Where’s your list of questions for Daisy?” Brooke asked, clearly eager to change the subject.

  “Right here.” Audie popped down off the fence and zipped open her backpack to pull out a purple glitter notebook. Really, it was hard to get more “little girl” than a purple glitter notebook—except for the pink polka-dot pencil that emerged from the backpack immediately behind the notebook. Gunner suppressed a cringe worthy of a third-grade boy’s distaste for “cooties.”

  “Can I talk to her? Up close?”

  More parental land mines. Brooke seemed to be remembering that
Daisy was as large as her car, her hand going reflexively to Audie’s shoulder. There wasn’t much to worry about, provided Audie listened to directions, but even Gunner’s limited experience with youngsters told him “listening to directions” didn’t top the list of their skill sets. He sent Brooke a “let me handle this” glance over Audie’s head just before squatting down in front of the girl. “Well, now, that depends on you.” He made his voice friendly but serious. “Daisy’s a very big animal. And she’s easily upset, being so close to her time and all. She’s not like a dog or a cat or even a horse who’s really used to folks being around. Can you understand that?”

  Audie nodded just as seriously. “Oh, I can. Yessir.” Brooke looked slightly less alarmed, and Gran smiled.

  “She may not be in much of a mood to chat, so I’ve asked my friend Billy to come along. Daisy does most of her talking to Billy.” He felt ridiculous saying that, all the more because it was true as far as he knew. “He can help with the answers you can’t get from Daisy or me or Gran.”

  This didn’t seem to faze Audie at all. “Three people and a bison. This’ll be the best report ever.”

  Gunner wasn’t sure how true that was, but at least this “interview” wasn’t feeling like the intolerable chore he’d imagined it to be this morning. “We’ll do our best.” He straightened back up as he saw Billy bringing Daisy closer. No matter what, Gunner would keep a sturdy fence between the thousand-pound beast and the bitty Calder women. As a bottle-raised orphan whose parents had been humans rather than bison, Daisy was by far one of the friendliest bison the Blue Thorn had ever seen—but animals were still animals.