The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  Wiping his mouth, Downing glared over at the banker. “Dammit, Frank, tell them the rest!”

  Latimer shot to his feet as if Downing had fired a gun at him. He nervously knotted his handkerchief. Stammering, he said, “What Mr. Downing is saying is that once the deal goes through—and we feel quite sure it will—he’ll own half of Long Lake. We foresee this as a huge real estate development opportunity.” He gestured toward the unseen lake to the north of the ranch. “We felt that it might be a good idea to approach you, Miss Gus, about selling the other half of the lake to us.” He added a limp smile with his suggestion. And then, he abruptly sat back down, tense and expectant.

  Gus sat back, drumming her fingers on the rocker arm. She cut a glance to Griff. “Well, what do you think about this?”

  Nostrils flaring, Griff said in a low growl, “This is all way too premature. There’s no way they can be guaranteed the forest service will work with them on this deal. I can’t speak for you, Miss Gus, but I don’t think you want a high-end real estate development next door.”

  “Now wait a minute!” Downing said in a condescending tone, and he shifted his gaze to Miss Gus. “Frank didn’t tell you the rest of it.” He glared at the banker, fought for composure and lowered his voice. “Miss Gus, I’m willing to pay you two million dollars for your lakefront property.” He sat up, expecting her to be impressed and awed by his generosity.

  One silver eyebrow hitched upward as Gus looked at Val. “Two million dollars,” she drawled to her granddaughter.

  Val smiled a little. “I heard.”

  Gus looked at Griff. “Two million?”

  Downing was frustrated. The old woman was being cagey. What the hell was going on here? “Two million dollars is a lot of money!” he exhorted, waving his hand to emphasize the point.

  “I know the worth of my property,” Gus said in a clear, steady voice as she drilled Downing with a stare. “That lake is worth a whole lot more than that.”

  “But,” Frank said hastily, “it’s very hard to get to.”

  “So what, Mr. Latimer?” Griff said. “That doesn’t lessen its value. You can bankroll roads being built into it.”

  Damn! Curt wanted to curse out loud, but he knew Miss Gus hated such talk. It would only lower her opinion of him and he was desperate to keep some footing. “The lake is worth a lot,” he admitted, his voice unsteady. He forced a plastic smile toward Miss Gus. “I’ll up the ante to two million, five hundred thousand dollars.”

  Griff’s scowl increased. Curt could see the disgust in Val’s eyes even though she was letting Miss Gus do all the talking and maneuvering.

  “And so,” Gus said, tapping her chin, “you want our side of the lake to go with your side of the lake?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then you want to put a real estate development on it? My guess is two- or three-story condominiums all crowded shoulder to shoulder around ninety percent of it.”

  Frank blotted his brow. “Well, perhaps not that many, Miss Gus. We have to be aware of county bylaws and the fact that we’d have to construct our own sewage system.”

  “That means,” Griff said, “that you’re looking at a very large development.”

  “We’re looking at nine hundred units,” Downing admitted in frustration.

  “I bet,” Gus said. “Stacked like egg cartons on top of one another.”

  It was hard for Downing to sit still, but he forced himself to continue to smile. “Well, yes, they will be three stories high.”

  “And we’d see them from our ranch house,” Val added in an angry tone. She wasn’t very good at keeping her rage at bay. Downing was slippery and frightening. He reminded her of Buck in so many ways it made her stomach roll into a painful knot.

  “We’d plant trees, tall trees,” Curt said. “You wouldn’t see them.”

  “It would take a tree twenty to thirty years to reach that kind of maturity and height,” Val shot back. “In the meantime, we’d see them.”

  “And hear them. And what about all the gas fumes from all those cars coming and going?” Gus said in a demanding voice. “Our once pristine, quiet and clean lake would be gone to hell in a handbag.”

  “Now, wait, wait,” Curt begged, holding up his hands. “We would work with you on this. We’d do whatever you wanted to ensure your privacy.”

  “You can’t hide from the sounds of cars or their pollution,” Griff pointed out.

  Curt wanted to smash McPherson in the jaw. Miss Gus was right: he was just like Slade, damn him! “No,” he choked, “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Nine hundred units means nine hundred cars coming and going,” Griff pointed out.

  “That’s a lot of pollution,” Val said, looking fondly around the quiet, natural property.

  “Not to mention people wandering around on your property, Miss Gus.”

  “McPherson,” Curt ground out, “we’ll take care of that. We’ll build proper fences with No Trespassing signs. No one will come wandering onto their property.”

  Val moved in her chair and twisted her lip. “Oh, really? Just like you didn’t wander onto our property when you rode your endurance horse along our road for the last five years without permission? I think we have a fair idea of how you’ll treat this situation.” Val gave Downing a steady stare. There was truth in her words and she felt them flow strongly through her. Downing looked like he wanted to strike her. That frightened her for a moment. It was the same crazy look Buck used to have in his eyes when he was going to beat her. Reflexively, her adrenaline shot up and she suddenly felt shaky inside. But she stood her ground.

  Griff saw fear come to Val’s eyes. Slade had said Downing was abusive to people and animals, and he quickly figured out why she looked so scared. He rose to his feet. Even though he wanted to go over and stand in front of her to shield her from Downing, he anchored himself. He watched Val fight her fear and saw it replaced with a calm. His admiration for her poise in such tense circumstances rose even more.

  “I admit,” Curt rasped, “I did ride my stud on your property and I was wrong. I should have come to Miss Gus and asked for permission. I told you it would never happen again and it hasn’t.”

  “That was after you got caught,” Gus reminded him stiffly. “And I wonder what you will do under the radar until you’re caught by one of us after you build that snazzy condo development?”

  “Everything would be listed in a contract. A contract can list whatever demands the seller wants.”

  “Sure it can,” Griff said with a drawl. He liked to see Downing sweat. There were beads forming across his hairline. “Miss Gus would have to hire a boatload of lawyers and pay them an arm and a leg to ensure that long list was followed.”

  “Just what makes you think Charley is gonna support your land swap?” Gus demanded.

  “I own some property near Deaver, Wyoming, near the oil fields. I have a hundred thousand acres of confirmed oil and natural gas in the ground. It’s worth a fortune. The forest service could make a load of money off it,” Downing bragged with confidence.

  “I don’t think,” Griff told Miss Gus, “the forest service would want to get into mining activities. It takes millions of dollars to extrude the oil from the shale and it’s just not productive for them to do so.”

  Nodding, Gus said, “I’m a Wyoming gal. Oil and natural gas are a big part of our state. And I know enough to agree with Griff here.”

  “It’s not a done deal,” Frank agreed amiably, trying to smile. “But it’s an interesting deal where if there is a forest-service swap they’ll put three-point-five million into it. The geologists have run tests on Mr. Downing’s current property and speculate that the oil and natural gas extruded from the rocks would be worth well over thirty million dollars.”

  “Whew,” Gus muttered. “Thirty million?” She swung
her gaze to Curt. “Now, I might be a country gal, but I gotta tell you, Mr. Downing, that this doesn’t make sense. Long Lake is not worth thirty million. Oh, it’s expensive property, I’ll give you that. But not that much.” So why did he want the lake property so badly? That was the part Gus couldn’t figure out.

  Shaking his head, Griff said, “I’m not sure about this, but I can look into it and see if the forest service has swapped mining claims for land before.”

  “They haven’t,” Curt said, “but they will.”

  “I can’t believe Charley would go for it.” Gus snorted. “He hates land swaps.”

  “True, true,” Frank said hastily. “But with the double-dip recession and all, even the forest service must look elsewhere for new money sources.”

  Val sighed. “Gus, you really aren’t considering selling our half of the lake to him, are you?”

  “Maybe, maybe,” Gus said in a murmur, rocking and thinking. She studied Downing. Sweat was trickling down the sides of his face. Good, let him sweat. “But I’m stuck on one thing, Mr. Downing.”

  “What’s that?” Curt asked, hopeful that the old woman would sell.

  “It makes no good sense to me,” Gus said slowly, “that you’d let a thirty-million-dollar property in the hand go for a much less expensive piece of land just because it has a lake on it.” She drilled him with an intense look, her head tilted like a bird.

  Licking his lower lip, Curt said, “I happen to like water, Miss Gus. There isn’t much outside the national parks. You know that. I feel I can recoup what I lose in the swap over time. Frank has worked on the numbers and he agrees with me.”

  Doing quick calculations in his head, Griff said, “I highly doubt your figures. Given the millions in construction, plus the loss of the income in the shale, you won’t begin getting even for forty years.” He turned to Gus and added, “Now, these are rough calculations, but there’s no way he can ever make ends meet on this one.”

  Rubbing her chin, Gus looked over at Val. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think he has other reasons for wanting the lake.” Val turned and glared at Downing. “But he’s not telling us what they are.”

  Bridling with fury, Curt said more loudly than he intended, “McPherson, you’re wrong! You don’t have a clue as to the money involved in construction!”

  “I’m afraid I do, Downing. I worked for a financial services firm that underwrote many construction projects that went into the billions, all around the world. I have a lot of experience in construction matters.” He saw Downing move into real fury, his face reddening. There was a great deal, Griff realized, that Downing didn’t know about his background. Including the fact that Griff was watching, looking for any suspicious activity to report back to the FBI. And this was about as suspicious as it got. This whole drama was something he’d call and report to Special Agent Josh Gordon. Downing was up to something. But what?

  Downing turned to Gus, desperate. “I’ll give you three million for your lakefront property, Miss Gus. Now, you must agree, that’s a tidy sum and I’m sure you can use it.” He swept his hand around the Bar H. “Everyone knows this ranch is on its last legs. Buck drove it into the ground with his drinking. Surely, you need this kind of money if you’re going to resurrect it?”

  Gus gave him a feral smile. “I don’t like gossip, Downing. And I especially don’t like people like you thinkin’ they know everything about my family finances. Buck was an alcoholic, no question. And he did drive the Bar H under.” She gave Val a warm smile, the love shining in her eyes. “I don’t know who your land and property experts are, but they failed to note one thing.” She held up her index finger toward Curt. “I’m the matriarch of this ranch and my family. I might have spent most of my life over in Cheyenne, but I can assure you, this is where my roots are at.” She jabbed her finger down toward the porch in a swift motion. “And as usual, you come bustin’ in here thinkin’ you’re the man with all the money and power in the valley. Well, I got news for you. We ain’t as hard up as you may think. I sold my husband’s ranch after he died.”

  Curt’s face fell.

  “And I sold it for an awful lot of money. But you don’t need to know that number,” Gus whispered, anger rising in her tone. “What you do need to know is we don’t need your money. I would never sell our half of the lake or its surrounding property to anyone. Especially to the likes of you.”

  Frank blustered and started to stand up for Downing until Gus wagged her finger warningly at him. He quickly sat down.

  “You’re a snake in the grass, Downing.” Gus hardened her jaw. “You might have got your gossip wrong about the Bar H, but I can guarantee you I have resources and connections in this valley you’ll never have. You’ve hurt a lot of people around here over the years, Downing. And we aren’t going to be another injured party in your quest for power.”

  Griff watched Downing’s face turn cherry-red to the roots of his hair. His eyes were bulging with rage, his mouth clamped shut and thinned. He realized he was watching a very smart, politically savvy old gal in action. In that moment, Griff loved the feisty elder. He looked up to see Val’s face smiling, pride shining in her eyes for her warrior grandmother. There was no need for him to step in and say anything. Gus was handling Downing like a fractious, unruly colt. She’d snubbed him down to a post and he couldn’t move.

  “But…but,” Curt sputtered, getting to his feet, “you aren’t the owner of this property!” Desperate, he turned to Val. “You’re the owner, Miss Hunter. Surely, you don’t agree with your grandmother?”

  “Oh, give it a rest, Downing!” Gus yelled, leaping to her feet. Now she was mad. “You young whippersnapper! Did you even go to the county records to see who the owner of the Bar H is? Obviously not! Well, go take a gander! In the meantime, get off my property!” She whipped her hand toward their truck in the driveway. Breathing hard, she added, “I don’t ever want you to step foot on Bar H property again. If you do I’ll call the sheriff and make sure he puts you in jail for trespassing. You got it?”

  Shocked, Downing stood there staring at the short gray-haired woman. Her mouth was set, eyes blazing with anger, and her hands curled into fists jammed on her hips. He glanced over at Frank, who quickly leaped to his feet.

  “Didn’t you check owner of record at the county courthouse?” he snarled at the banker.

  “Why…er…my assistant said she did.”

  Cursing under his breath, Curt strode off the porch, red-faced and fuming. He desperately needed that land. If he was going to show the Garcia drug cartel he could give them a foothold in the area, he had to have that entire lake! His mind churned. Well, if the old woman wouldn’t sell him her half of the lake, then maybe terrorizing them until they couldn’t take living on the Bar H anymore was another way to get them to sell the property. Curt promised to make life so miserable for the two women they’d come begging him to buy it off them.

  Frank had barely made it into the passenger seat before Downing stomped down the accelerator, the tires screaming and spinning on the vehicle. Dust rose in huge, thick clouds as he spun the truck around. Once they were on the highway, the tires were still smoking. That was how angry Downing was.

  Griff reached out and patted Miss Gus on the shoulder. “You’re a sight to behold when you get your dander up.”

  Gus cracked a smile. “They don’t call me matriarch for nothin’. You earn that title, young man.” She scowled at the highway where Downing had disappeared. “That man is a snake. He’s wantin’ our property pretty badly. I just can’t figure out why.”

  Taking off his Stetson and running his fingers through his drying hair, Griff said, “I feel the same way. He’s up to something.”

  Val hugged her grandmother. “You were incredible! I’ve never seen you so fired up!”

  “When a snake comes crawlin’ around and wanting our
home, honey, I get into my defense mode. Downing wants to destroy us. I know he does.”

  Griff felt the dark threat of Downing, too. Slade had always warned him about the rancher, that he could never be trusted. He moved over to where Val stood. “Are you okay? You looked a little pale for a moment.”

  Feeling Griff’s nearness, his protectiveness, Val held his worried gaze and whispered, “I’m okay.”

  “Downing reminded you of Buck, I could tell,” Gus said with apology. “He’s an abuser just like your father was.” She shook her head sadly and walked into the house.

  Reaching out, Griff spontaneously touched Val’s shoulder-length red hair. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need this. I saw how scared you became.”

  His grazing touch was calming to Val. She wanted to lean forward and step into the circle of Griff’s arms. The desire was so powerful it startled her. She took a deep breath, smiled hesitantly and said, “The two of you gave me the courage to shake it off.”

  Warming to her tremulous admittance, Griff forced himself not to touch Val again. God knew, he wanted to. When he’d grazed her hair, Griff had seen calm instantly come to her eyes. “We helped, but you’re stronger than you think.” He opened the screen door for her and she walked into the house ahead of him.

  Looking over his shoulder, Griff saw the empty driveway. At some point, he’d have to call the FBI agent. Something was going on with Downing. It was his job as an undercover mole to report anything out of the ordinary. And this visit sure as hell had been that.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “DOWNING IS UP to something,” Slade told his brother after he heard the story of the visit the night before. He watched the twenty heifers stand in a group within the pipe corral. Griff and Val had delivered the final trailer load of cattle so that the group could be put into a pasture to be bred with Diablo.

  Leaning against the fence, Val at his side, Griff nodded. “Miss Gus tarred and feathered him.” He smiled a little. “You should have been there to see it.”