“Well, Adam is the best cutter trainer in these parts. He is worth his weight in gold. George is the foreman who oversees the property. The others are all just regular hands that help care for the animals, except for Jake who keeps the equipment, jeeps, and cars running. During the spring, we will hire on a few part-timers when the breeding and foaling season begins. We usually let ’em go in October. But most return each year. Your daddy rewards hard work.”
“They are at the same time?”
Oh, boy. She doesn’t even know that? Travis coughed into his fist. Breeding was how the Bar-M made its money. As uncomfortable as it was to explain it to her, he plowed forward. “Yes’m. Mares are long-day breeders, meaning they go into estrus when the sunlight hours begin to lengthen. A mare is in gestation about 340 days or eleven months. So if she…well, becomes pregnant in May, she will give birth in late March or early April the next year. Mares shouldn’t be bred until they are three years old, even though they can after the first cycle soon after they are one. So we have to keep the young mares away from the stallions. Your daddy doesn’t like to breed them too soon after they birth either, but waits past one foal heat cycle, which happens within about a week or two after the birth. Sometimes, the stallions don’t want to give them that long, if you get my meaning.”
Her cheeks turned to a pale rose.
Travis shifted his weight. “Each mare is different. Some won’t cycle as long as they are nursing. We keep all the cycles and gestations on spreadsheets. The vet gets a copy as well. I’m happy to email it to you. Then you can better see why we need the extra hands and when.”
“Um, okay. Thanks. We’ll go over the payroll later.” She wiggled in her chair and grabbed another invoice. “So tell me the difference between a colt and a gelding and why the vet bills for the latter would be so much higher.” She raised her finger. “And don’t you dare laugh.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Well. A gelding has been, um…neutered, so perhaps the cost of the castration and post op care?” His cheeks warmed this time, and he sucked in a breath to hide that fact.
She shot him a sympathetic grin. “Okay, so why would an equine ranch castrate the male horses? Daddy always said this place was all about breeding.”
He shuffled his stance. “Genetics are no guarantee. If they turn out to be of poor quality, the…um, surgery makes them calmer and more trainable as a workhorse. Like my horse, Chester. Geldings also make better ropers. So do mares. They don’t spook as much around cattle. We can still turn a pretty good profit with them if they can be trained right.”
“And cutters?”
“No, ma’am. A good cutter can almost sense what a calf or sheep is going to do. That’s a rare trait. So you don’t want to…well, not breed them.” He shifted his focus to the painting behind her. “Selling an award-winning cutter’s sperm is a big money-maker these days. We can ship all over the country. However, your daddy always tries to persuade the owner to allow the mare to come for a visit. He prefers doing things nature’s way over artificial insemination. And of course, there are incidences when mares turn into excellent cutters as well, so we want to breed them often as it is safe to do so.”
“And your job is to…?”
“Oversee the breeding process. I’m the stallion manager as well as employee manager. I get seven percent of the profits on each successful breed as a bonus.”
“Oh. I see.” She cleared her throat and took another sip of her coffee. “Yuck. It’s cold. I’m going for another cup. You?”
“I’d appreciate it. Black is fine.”
“Be right back.”
As her shapely legs waltzed from the room Travis pulled his collar from his neck and moved further from the fireplace. It had suddenly become quite warm in that den.
* * *
They huddled over the desk, engrossed in the shared task, until the clock struck twelve. She raised her hands over her head and yawned. “I’m toast. Let’s pick this up tomorrow after supper.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He rose and pulled out her chair.
She gave him a small smile. “Travis. What time to you normally rise?”
“Five, or thereabouts. Why?”
She leaned against the desk. “Then I will meet you at five-fifteen and you can walk me through the morning stable routine.”
“Yes’m.” He stifled the urge to yawn himself.
“I’ve kept you too long. Sorry.”
He waved it away. “Can’t be helped. Your first instinct was right. These books look fishy.”
Sarah pushed off and sighed. “Yes, they do. Well, goodnight, then. Or should I say, good morning. Lock up when you leave, please.”
After she left the room, he shoveled soot over the last few embers in the fireplace. Then he sat on the leather couch and stared at the grate. Boy, had he pegged her wrong. No longer a spoiled, lanky girl, she had blossomed into a strong, intelligent, and cunning woman. The evening spent in close proximity to her actually had been pleasant. Like a dry sponge, she’d absorbed his knowledge and asked a myriad of logical questions, turning the facts this way and that until her brain comprehended them. She caught on quick, too.
His conscious tickled him. Watch yourself, Travis. She’s still sporting that rock on her left hand.
He blinked. Where did that come from? As far as he knew, she wasn’t even a believer anymore, even though she’d been raised in the faith. He rose off the sofa and went through the house as soft-footed as possible, checking all the windows and doors before slipping out the back. His boots crunched the pea gravel along the path to the bunkhouse where he’d lived since he turned eighteen. The screened door’s springs screeched as he entered.
Manny rustled in the top bunk. “Where you been?”
“Just teaching Sarah the ropes.”
Manny swung his feet down. “Say what?”
Travis chuckled. “All business, son. Trust me. Nothin’ more.”
The teen slid back under his covers. “Sure. If you say so.”
As he jerked off his boots, Travis reassured himself that’s all it was.
* * *
Sarah lay on her back, the quilt tucked to her chin. She listened to Travis’ footfalls as he secured the house. A tiny part of her heart wanted to hear them climb the stairs so his strong arms could hold her until she cried herself to sleep. The Bar-M proved more than she could handle and, in the darkness of her own room, she finally admitted it with a quivering lower lip. But she shook the fear away.
That’s stupid talk. He is a hick. You despise hicks. And you will pull this off. You will save this ranch. It’s not only your daddy’s livelihood, but yours and all the workers’ and their families are at stake. She rolled onto her side and drew her knees to her chest. She’d have to find a way to make Tucker understand. No way could she walk away and allow her granddaddy’s legacy to crumble. Her family’s reputation mattered in the community.
She would have to lean on the ranch manger. She appreciated that he squelched any eye rolls when she asked stupid questions. Instead, he thought about the best way to answer so she’d understand. The man obviously had smarts when it came to the animals, but…
But what? Tonight, she’d learned Travis had a keen business sense and his loyalty to her daddy remained paramount. He obviously believed in hard work and demonstrated a great deal of intelligence under that West Texas drawl and swagger. If he’d gone to college, he’d probably have graduated with honors as well. Not his fault he never achieved more than a high school education. He never had her advantages.
She closed her eyes and pictured his chiseled cheeks against the soft glow of the fireplace in the cozy den. He had nice eyes— expressive, clear, deep. He’d smelled manly, with a slight hint of day-old aftershave and deodorant soap mixed together. Obviously, he had showered before coming into her presence. Sarah chuckled.
His chest and shoulders weren’t too shabby either… Oh, Sarah, please. Get a grip. He’s a Bible thumpin’ cowpoke. You have the perfect m
an waiting in Dallas for you. Rich, ambitious, sophisticated, gorgeous, and fun. At least you hope you still do…
One more time, she checked her phone for messages. Not even a one-line text. She tugged the covers tighter around her. It would all work out. Daddy, the ranch, Tucker, her life. She’d make sure of it with Travis’ assistance. He’d merely be a means for her to achieve her new goals. A tool to be used. A little flattery and mild flirting might do the trick. It’d be like coaxing a stallion’s bridle so the beast would head the way you wanted it to go.
What would Tucker think of that? Would it push him away? A shudder zipped through her for a second. Maybe not a bad thing?
If Tucker became a tiny bit jealous, he’d be more willing to spend time here in the Hill Country. He could always acquire a small private jet and commute a few days a week. He might even pick up several local clients for the law firm. Plenty of oil dynasties and Houstonian businessmen tucked into their multi-billion-dollar riverfront vacation homes around here. He could rub elbows with them to feather his career nest. Tucker could use her daddy’s massive desk while she hosted lavish barbeques. They could still fly north for the theatre season in Big D. Yes, it could work.
In the distance, Sarah heard pops of firecrackers. A Texas tradition. Happy New Year. She’d forgotten today was December thirty-first. Travis hadn’t said a thing. Maybe his faith didn’t celebrate it. She scrunched her pillow closer to her heart.
A week ago, she’d envisioned quite a different scenario to ring in the New Year. Champagne, a huge ballroom, waltzing in her in a designer red formal with a plunging back, and Tucker’s soft kiss at the stroke of midnight before they forked in the black-eyed peas. Oh, well.
She sighed and snuggled into her sheets. But sleep didn’t come for quite some time, and when it did, it remained shallow and restless.
CHAPTER SIX
Later that morning, after Sarah helped with the morning stable duties, Travis found her sitting in a pile of tinsel, lights and ornaments. The evergreen tree stood barren of its glory. Dried pine needles scattered across the floor. “Need help?”
Sarah uncrossed her legs and drew them to her chin. In her hand, she twirled a glass globe featuring the Holy Family. “Do you truly believe this is what it’s all about?”
He sat next to her and took the trinket from her. “Yep, Jesus is the reason for the season, as they say. Christmas is a slurring of Christ’s Mass. It’s all about Him.”
“Is it? I mean people can have fun, share presents, go to parties, and gain ten pounds in two weeks without all the religious stuff.”
He chuckled. “Yes, but it loses its depth, right? We exchange gifts because the Wise Men brought him gifts and in joy of the eternal gift He gives to us—Himself.”
“I guess you have a point. Those Christmas carols do move me.” She stared at the ornament and tilted her head. Then her face brightened. “What about the Little Drummer Boy? He gave his talent to the baby Jesus.”
Travis cocked his head. “That’s not in the Bible. Sweet sentiment, though. Reminds us we should do the same.”
“Hmmm. Not sure I have any talent, except spending money.” She let out a nervous chuckle and took the ornament from him, wrapped it in tissue paper, and laid it in the box with the others.
“I wouldn’t say that, ma’am.” Their eyes locked for a moment, then he blinked. “Well, I guess I had better—”
She cut him off. “Figured it’s time we de-cluttered the house before they bring Daddy home. It’s January, after all. I could use your help.”
“Your daddy always kept them up until the sixth, when Epiphany begins.”
“Don’t care.” She stood. “My first instinct is to chuck it all in the trash, anyway. Never celebrate this stupid holiday again.” She kicked a section of garland. It lifted and then floated back to her foot. “His stroke ruined the whole thing. Every time I see this stuff, it will remind me of his pale face and his body crumpled on the floor. Plus, my mom died two weeks before Christmas. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Yet your dad still loved this time of year, though, because of his faith. He told me each year it reminds him of how much God loves us. He knew because of her belief in Jesus, your mother was in heaven. Knowing that made his heart ache a bit less.”
She raised her gaze to Travis. “I wish I could believe in joy to the world. I truly do. Part of me wants that. But frankly, I hate Christmas.”
He sat, dumbfounded, wondering if she really meant it or if the overload of stress clouded her judgment.
Sarah waved her arms around the den. “Start out on the deck while I finish up in here. Maria and Cook are tackling the rest of the rooms. Daddy returns tomorrow and I want it all out of here. No sign of Christmas anywhere.”
She lifted the box of ornaments with her head high.
* * *
The staff lined the walkway for the homecoming. Both pride and sadness hovered in their expressions. Travis held his cowboy hat to his chest as his boss, followed by an entourage of nurses, durable medical equipment, and beeping machines paraded by him. The other ranch hands dipped theirs in respect.
Sarah stood in the front entryway. The ambulance attendants wheeled her father’s pale body into the main hall just as the workers finished installing the stair lift. A state of the art motorized wheelchair lay at the foot of the mahogany staircase with a big red bow draped over it. She leaned over to kiss his forehead as she blinked the tears back into her eyes. “Welcome home, Daddy.”
His clouded gaze lifted to her face. How much did he comprehend? She didn’t know. She motioned to the battery-operated contraption that might allow him a tad bit of freedom. A flash of recognition entered his face.
“Gentlemen. Can you transfer him to this one, please? It will meet his needs better and no one will have to push him.”
The medical technicians lifted him with gentleness as what little functioning muscles he had left tightened.
“It’s okay, Daddy. You’ll like it. And see, there is a lift to carry you up to your room so you can, in time and with practice, come and go as you please.” She stroked his arm as they eased him into his mechanical throne. He raised pleading eyes to her as his right hand motioned her to take it.
A rush of uniforms surrounded them. “We’ll settle him in, Miss Sarah. You can come visit him in a few hours. The trip tasked his strength.” The private nurse they’d hired wheeled his chair into the lift and shut the gate.
With a flurry of efficiency, the professional team ascended the stairs at the same pace as the ranch owner. Her father’s blank expression never left her face as he ascended.
Sarah blinked when she realized Travis now stood beside her. “He’ll be all right, Sarah. Give him time to acclimate. Give yourself time as well.”
She pivoted towards his voice. “I’m fine. We’ll be fine. Meet you in ten minutes. We are riding the north fence today, right?”
“Yes’m. I’ll have Angel Hair saddled for you.”
“Good.”
With a set jaw, she left the foyer before anyone could notice the tear trickling down her cheek.
* * *
Travis pulled to a halt and dismounted. “Let’s give the horses a rest.” He unscrewed the cap off his canteen and took a long swallow.
Sarah did the same and leaned against the fence post. Her legs felt jelly-wobbly after two hours in the saddle. And to think she used to ride for hours on end as a girl. Definitely out of practice, and her inner thighs would most likely let her know that loud and clear that evening.
She stared out over the property, now barren and brown. “Almanac says we are in for a harsh winter over the next month or so. Several hard freezes. How are we fixed for feed and hay?”
Her ranch manager’s eyes flickered to hers then scanned the fields. “January and February are often the worst, so we plan for that. We ensure we have enough to last and then some, just in case. Your father always insists on that.” He propped his boot on one of the barbed w
ire rungs. “Not only because Texas weather is so unpredictable, but on the chance his neighbors don’t prepare as well as we do.”
“Really? He gives it away?”
“All depends on their circumstances. He lets them set the price.”
She shook her head. “I never knew.”
Travis slapped his hat against his jeans. “Pardon me for saying so, Sarah, but there is a lot you never knew—or cared to know.” He softened his facial features. “I’m glad you have chosen to now. Mr. Mansfield will be proud of you.”
She flopped her forearm over her brow and replied in a thick Texas accent dripping with Southern charm. “I do declare, Mr. Wallace. Would that be a compliment?”
His laughter echoed off the hills.
“It’s near noon. We have six more miles to travel before we head back. Saddle up, ma’am.”
“Do you always do this on horseback?”
“I usually drive the jeep, but I figured this first time out, it would be better to go slow. Easier to talk this way as well.”
“Travis, that was smart of you.”
“Thanks. I figured I was just a dumb hick in your eyes.”
Her lips pressed together.
“Sorry. That was uncalled for, Sarah.” He mounted his horse.
The two continued to inspect the fences and property as Sarah asked questions. She shaded her eyes from the winter sun. “You possess a great deal of common sense. You know that?”
He winked. “Ma’am, would that be a compliment in return?”
Sarah snickered. “A simple observation. I am beginning to understand what Daddy saw in you all those years ago.”
His jaw shifted. “I owe him a lot. He detected a potential in me I didn’t know I had. I came pretty beaten down.”
She drew her reins in. “I don’t mean to pry, but you do have family, right?”
“My parents live about an hour or so away. I saw them at Christmas.”
Hill Country Homecoming Page 4