The Rancher's Prospect

by Callie Endicott

  From the corner of her eye she noticed Walt had come through the open door and was listening.

  “The other day I found some historical records, including an invoice from the 1800s,” she murmured.

  “Really?” Josh seemed interested. “I wouldn’t want anything like that thrown away.”

  She deliberately turned to address his grandfather. “Walt, I don’t dispose of anything unless I’m asked to discard items older than a particular date.”

  The elderly man appeared to be assessing the situation.

  “Older than a certain date?” Josh repeated.

  “There are legalities involved with record keeping, but it’s an owner’s decision what to do with paperwork that no longer has tax or other legal implications.”

  “Okay. Put that sort of thing in boxes and I’ll check it over.”

  “You aren’t my employer, Mr. McGregor. Walt, shall I organize any historic material I locate?” she asked. Walt grinned while a flash of anger crossed Josh’s face.

  Walt nodded. “Can it be stored in a way that makes sense?”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem, but I’d suggest using archival storage materials. A lot of paper today is acidic, so putting old documents into files without protecting them could be damaging.”

  “Get whatever you need,” Josh put in hastily. “We have an office supply store in Schuyler, and if they don’t have what you require, they can order it.”

  Walt jutted out his chin. “I’ll phone and tell the store you’ll be making purchases for the Boxing N. They can bill me.”

  The two men stared at each other in silent combat, and Tara didn’t want to find out how long it would take for one of them to back down.

  “That’s fine,” she interjected. “Walt, we didn’t talk about whether office records should also be computerized.”

  “No,” Walt replied immediately.

  “Yes,” Josh said at the same time.

  “You’re working for me,” Walt reminded her.

  “Then I’ll hire you, too,” Josh asked. “Everything needs to be computerized.”

  Tara’s head was beginning to ache; the tension between the two men was palpable. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but her sympathies were entirely with Walt.

  “Perhaps this could be sorted out another time,” she said finally.

  With a stiff, angry nod, Josh stomped out of the office building.

  Walt settled into one of the comfortable chairs at the opposite end of the room while she started to work.

  “My grandson is wrong,” he said after several minutes.

  “About what?”

  “Evelyn didn’t ask me to move my office out of the house. But I could tell cigar smoke bothered her, so I moved into this place.”

  The wistful expression in the old man’s eyes made Tara curious, but she didn’t try to probe.

  “That was thoughtful,” she answered.

  “I would have done anything for my wife...at least, that’s what I always claimed. She was an amazing woman. I should have...”

  His voice trailed off, and he looked at the window behind her, though she didn’t think it was the garden he was seeing. She’d learned the Nelsons had been in a terrible car accident the previous autumn; Evelyn had lingered for a few days before she passed, and Walt had been left with a painful limp. It was dreadfully unfair that he would have to spend his senior years without his wife. Again she felt that odd, powerful liking for the older man. His obvious loneliness reminded Tara of how solitary her own life was.

  Since he seemed lost in thought again, Tara returned her attention to the chaotic office. Organizing it would take some time. The system—such as it was—appeared to be limited to creating the piles of papers she’d seen the first day, along with battered boxes and paper bags. Instead of holding paperwork, the ancient filing cabinets were stuffed with a miscellany of items.

  After a while Tara glanced up and saw Walt had left. That made things easier. She combined several partial boxes so she’d have containers to unload the cabinets. Opening one of the file drawers, she pulled out a large tangle of leather straps.

  “What have you got there?” Josh McGregor asked.

  Tara jerked at the unexpected voice, her heart skipping. She made a mental note to keep the office door closed while she worked and to look for a bell that could alert her when anyone was entering. For such tall men, both Walt and his grandson moved quietly, and she didn’t enjoy being surprised. One coworker had claimed she was worse than a cat, jumping whenever startled.

  She examined the dried-up leather straps and metal pieces. “It appears to be old horse tackle.”

  “What a terrific place to keep something like that.”

  Though Tara silently agreed, she was annoyed by Josh’s wry tone. Equally annoying tingles shot through her as he brushed her arm, lifting the jumble from her hands.

  “I doubt this has been used for thirty or forty years. It isn’t worth much now, but I’ll see if there’s anything that can be salvaged.”

  She hesitated. The relationship between grandfather and grandson was obviously complicated, and they were putting her in the middle; she was starting to feel like a bone being growled over by two dogs. “I’ll discuss it with Walt,” she told him firmly.

  Josh’s jaw tensed in a way that was rapidly growing familiar; he and his grandfather both seemed to have the same ticking muscle on their jawlines.

  “Ms. Livingston, as I told you before, I own the Boxing N. My grandfather deeded it to me several months ago.”

  “How soon after he got out of the hospital?”

  Josh flinched. “The week after he got out of the rehab center, not that it’s any of your concern. He contacted his lawyer without telling anyone in the family what he was doing. Apparently he’s had the documents ready since my college graduation.”

  “And now you’re determined to show him who’s in command.”

  “That’s ridiculous, but a ranch has to have one boss, and Grandpa has made me legally responsible for everything that goes on here. I’ve got cowhands quitting because he keeps interfering, yet he no longer has the physical strength to do what needs to be done.”

  It was a reasonable explanation, especially the part about being legally responsible, but Tara still sympathized with Walt. He’d spent a lifetime running the Boxing N, and giving up control must be difficult.

  “At the risk of repeating myself, Walt hired me, not you,” she said evenly.

  “And, as I said earlier, I’d like to hire you, as well. If you’re organizing the records anyway, it makes sense to do the computer work at the same time. Right?”

  “I don’t care if it makes sense,” she declared. “What I do here is up to Walt, and he doesn’t want that. Would it hurt you to wait? Or are you trying to force equipment on him that he’s never used, hoping to push him out of the way?”

  “You don’t know anything about it. Whether you like it or not, I’m having a computer delivered this week, along with a scanner and the other equipment needed to move this ranch into the twenty-first century.”

  “Fine, but my using it depends upon Walt, so that equipment may not get a workout until you hire an office manager and shuffle him into an old folks’ home.”

  “I’m not trying to shuffle him anywhere,” Josh hissed. “It isn’t any of your business, but for your information, I’m trying to give him some dignity and still keep this place running.”

  “That isn’t what it looks like from my standpoint.”

  Josh closed his eyes in obvious frustration.

  “I’ll talk to my grandfather about the computer work,” he finally told her.

  “Talk or demand?”

  His jaw tightened again, but he picked up the armload of horse tackle and headed for the door without sayi
ng anything else.

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” Tara said before he could leave.

  He froze. “What?”

  “Walt has a huge amount of experience running a ranch, and caution isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Why are you so opposed to learning from him? Has the business really changed that much?”

  “You’d be surprised. As for learning from my grandfather, he can be challenging.”

  She smiled faintly, knowing it would annoy Josh. “Actually, I think he’s delightful.”

  * * *

  AS JOSH WENT DOWN the steps of the office, he saw his grandfather coming from the direction of the horse barn.

  Delightful? Much as he loved the old guy, delightful wasn’t the word he’d choose.

  “This was in a filing cabinet,” he said, indicating the armload he carried. “I’ll get rid of it if there’s nothing useful.”

  “I don’t give a crap. But I’m telling Tara I want everything computerized since you’re so highfalutin sure it’s needed.”

  “I just asked her to do that,” Josh returned, all too aware that his request hadn’t gone anywhere. Tara was one of the most infuriating women he’d ever met.

  “She’s working for me, so I’ll do the asking.”

  Why couldn’t his grandfather let go of one blessed thing?

  Tension crept up Josh’s neck. He could have bought a different ranch years ago when a spread south of Schuyler had come up for sale. He’d checked the place out and almost made an offer, but in the end it had felt as if he would be giving up on his heritage.

  Josh glanced toward the rolling grassland studded with trees and livestock. His roots were here; the Boxing N had been in his mother’s family since the 1800s, and in the distance it gave way to mountains that were strikingly beautiful. Back then the land had been cheap, and his Nelson ancestors had bought a vast section of the lower mountainous region as part of the Boxing N, even though it didn’t support many cattle per acre.

  Walt was slowly limping toward the office.

  Josh sighed and followed. He caught up and endured his grandfather’s sour frown as they mounted the three steps. Hellfire, he wanted a good relationship with Walt, but few people, if any, had ever gotten close to him. Walt was like the land itself—unyielding, sometimes unforgiving, and oblivious to the changing times.

  Inside they found Tara lifting an old hand water pump from a drawer; she glanced up as she dropped it onto the desk. She’d removed her suit jacket and there were smudges of dirt across the breast line of her blouse. Josh swallowed. Tara was bad news from start to finish, and he had no intention of allowing his attraction to her to go anywhere.

  “Is something up?” she asked, her face becoming expressionless.

  It struck Josh that her reactions generally seemed measured. Even when arguing with him, he’d had the impression her emotions were carefully controlled. He didn’t trust that kind of restraint. As a rule the McGregors and Nelsons were passionate people; it might mean extra conflicts along the way, but at least you knew where you stood.

  “My grandfather wants to expand your work parameters,” he said before Walt could explain.

  Walt deserved his dignity, but so did he. He certainly didn’t deserve to be treated as if he was thirteen instead of thirty-three.

  “I’ve been thinking about my grandson’s la-di-da modern ideas.” Walt huffed. “So I’ve decided you should take care of that computer stuff. Do it whatever way you think it should be done. You’re the expert.” His tone plainly indicated he didn’t think Josh possessed expertise of any kind.

  “Of course,” Tara replied. “Do you also want me to set up a system where bills can be paid online and checks can be printed?”

  “Online?” Walt asked.

  “Through the internet.”

  How anyone could be unfamiliar with the concept, Josh didn’t know, but he suspected Tara was speaking a foreign language as far as his grandfather was concerned. Josh would have lunged forward with an emphatic yes, but something in her eyes kept him quiet. She’d aligned herself with Walt and would find a way to do things his way, even on the computer. When the time came, Josh was sure he’d have to do a lot of extra work getting things changed to the way he wanted.

  “Is that how other ranches do business?” Walt asked.

  “I can’t speak for other ranches,” Tara said, “but I’ve seen how much time the process saves.”

  “Okay, do it. Get whatever you need for that inter...online thing.”

  “Well, it’s not quite that simple...”

  Behind Walt’s back, Josh shook his head and gave her an intense glare, to which she only raised an eyebrow.

  “You have to have internet service here at the office,” she explained to Walt, “along with a computer, of course.”

  “Get whatever you need.”

  “All right.”

  He limped out, and Josh smiled blandly at Tara. “I already told you that, as the owner, I will make the arrangements for whatever is required here at the office.”

  “Certainly.” She returned his smile with one as carefully bland as his own.

  He’d always preferred women who were more easygoing, so why did this chilly cucumber make him so aware of her?

  “Why didn’t you want me to explain the internet to Walt?” she asked.

  “Because he’s an old-time cattleman and doesn’t understand.”

  “That doesn’t mean he can’t understand, provided the people around him don’t treat him as a senile old man. Or as a child, for that matter. He’s obviously still sharp.”

  “I’m not treating him that way.”

  “Ha.” She shrugged, and he glanced away, not wanting to watch the movement of the soft fabric of her blouse.

  “Incidentally,” he said, “you might find jeans and a T-shirt more practical on the Boxing N than silk.”

  “Thank you so much for the advice,” she returned with an edge of sarcasm. It was probably deserved; he didn’t have any business suggesting what sort of clothing she should wear.

  “Just leave the nonoffice items near the door,” he said. “I’ll get them out of your way later.”

  “If that’s what Walt wants me to do.”

  Seething with anger, Josh left. At least he was going to get the office and accounts computerized, but he wasn’t sure if he’d won or lost the latest skirmish. He didn’t even know if winning and losing was the point. If he won, then his grandfather lost. But if things didn’t get into shape soon, his reputation would suffer, and the ranch might be hard to keep going.

  Josh’s trust fund was generous, but he’d quietly used some of it to pay his grandparents’ medical bills not covered by insurance. There was also the question of gift taxes on the Boxing N, which he fully expected to pay instead of his grandfather. The remaining principal, while substantial, couldn’t support a failing proposition forever.

  * * *

  LAUREN MOVED FROM one patient to another as quickly as possible. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up behind schedule, and that wasn’t fair to Tara—her sister was cutting her first day at the Boxing N short so they could spend the afternoon together. They had planned to do it the previous Friday, but the other physician’s assistant had called, asking her to trade shifts because his wife was ill.

  Her nerves were on edge for fear that Carl might stop by again. It was ironic, because she’d enjoyed her date with him even more than the first ones. After dinner, they’d walked along the river while the sun dropped low in the sky and cast a rosy light over the landscape.

  When she’d described the setting to Tara, her sister had made a dry comment about Carl devising the ideal romantic moment, only to quickly apologize. They hadn’t discussed men that much, but Lauren suspected that neither of them had a stellar record.
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br />   “I heard that you and Sheriff Stanfield went out this weekend,” Ethel Carter commented as Lauren took her blood pressure.

  The nurse had taken it earlier, but the first check was always high. Mrs. Carter got stressed when she walked into the clinic, a case of white-coat syndrome, as it was called. Some medical professionals discounted the condition, but Lauren was a believer.

  “Where did you hear that?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Virginia was at the senior center exercise group this morning. Her daughter lives in Windy Bluffs and saw you at the Mexican restaurant. It’s nice that you’re still going out together.”

  Great. Gossip was the last thing Lauren needed. Emily had warned her when she’d moved to Schuyler that it was the most popular form of entertainment in town.

  “We’re friends,” Lauren said as though it didn’t matter very much. It was true. She and Carl were friends. “Are you taking your blood pressure medicine every day?”

  “Whenever I remember.”

  “It’s important to be consistent, okay? We can talk about ways to make that easier at your next appointment.”

  “Of course, dear. Did you and the sheriff have a nice evening together?”

  “La Bonita is a terrific restaurant, and their fresh salsa is fantastic. I’m going to take my sister there soon.”

  Ethel looked disappointed and might have tried probing further, but Lauren patted her shoulder and handed over several prescription refills.

  “Keep up the exercise,” she instructed. “It’s obviously doing you good.”

  Ethel’s face creased into a smile. “I only started because you kept urging me to try. I do feel better. The arthritis doesn’t hurt as much, and I have more energy.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  Lauren went on to her next patient, hoping she wouldn’t have to field more questions about her and Carl Stanfield. It could get really old, really fast.

  * * *

  TARA SPENT THE remainder of the morning cleaning out the rest of the file cabinets and emptying cupboards of equipment that had nothing to do with office work. Most of it couldn’t have been used in decades, and she couldn’t even tell what some items were. She recognized spurs, of course, and rusted samples of barbed wire. The rest was pretty strange, reminiscent of medieval torture implements she’d seen in museums across Europe.