Chapter Three
Full, robust scents trailed up the stairs, meeting Michelle before she reached the landing. Her stomach rumbled. “Do I smell steak?”
“Yep.” Casey groaned. “When Brent cooks, we have steak. It’s the only thing he knows how to cook.”
Brad bounced down the stairs behind them. “That’s not true. He’s a great cook. Better than you, Casey. You burn water.”
“Bite me, kid.” Casey shrugged. “Whatever. So long as I don’t have to cook it, I’ll eat it.”
“You mean, so long as you don’t have to pay for it, you old cheapskate,” replied the youngest Williams. Brad, though smaller than his brothers, had a frame that promised the same tall, powerful build. At only seventeen, he had plenty of time to catch up. He already shared the ruggedly handsome features and easy-going disposition of the other men in the family.
Michelle admired the friendly banter between the brothers. An only child, she’d never had that kind of relationship with anyone. Well, until she’d met Lacey. Now that she’d met her friend’s family, Michelle understood the strength flowing through her. A girl would need a lot of it to hold her own with brothers like these, and a sister as tough as Kendra.
Brent poked his head through the swinging door which must lead to the kitchen. “Soup’s on! Everybody head into the dining room.”
Michelle followed Brad and Casey as they stampeded through the small living room and then an archway. They each grabbed a chair and trapped themselves beneath a dining room table big enough to seat at least ten people. Almost everything she’d seen so far looked like a scene out of time. Except for Casey’s leather, everything in the room, including the people, spoke of a time long passed. Even the portraits hanging in vintage frames held dull photographs of long-dead relatives.
The front door slammed and heavy footsteps rang through the space. The sharp sound muted as the bearer crossed the Oriental rug in the living room and picked up when boots met hardwood again. Michelle looked over her shoulder.
Kendra took off her cowboy hat and slapped it on her thigh. A small burst of dust escaped, but it seemed like more of a habit than a deliberate action. She must have already cleaned off the Stetson before she came into the house. Worn, tanned leather chaps hugged her slender thighs, framing the juncture between her legs quite nicely. They may cover her jeans, protecting them from the elements and the earth, but they did nothing to hide the inherent tone of her muscles. Kendra hung the dusty hat on a tree in the corner of the dining room and stared at her brothers.
Bending and twisting at the waist, she unbuckled her chaps and then draped them over another branch of the coat tree. She turned to the sideboard without a sound and poured water from a ceramic pitcher adorned with purple and pink flowers into a large matching basin and rinsed her hands. When she finished, drying her hands on a small, linen towel, she turned to glare at her brothers again. Raising one arched brow, she said, “Gentlemen?”
Casey and Brad stared back at her for a moment, and then shifted their gazes to Michelle. Simultaneous expressions of chagrin—mixed with mutual understanding—crossed their features and they both jumped to their feet.
The sudden rush snapped Michelle’s attention away from Kendra’s slow, graceful movements. Heat crept up her neck and her heart raced. She’d been staring. Again. Biting her lip, she reached for the chair. Casey beat her to it and pulled it out for her. “Sorry, Michelle. Let me get that.”
She tilted her head and looked up at him. “Thanks.” Had Kendra chastised her brothers on her account? Lacey was right. Kendra seemed about as old fashioned as they came.
She had settled into the high-backed, cushioned chair before any of the Williams boys took a seat. Kendra seated herself at the head of the table, pulled the linen napkin from beneath the silverware next to her china plate, unfolded it and placed it over her lap. Her hands were steady and sure, her fingers calloused. The backs of her knuckles held more than a few scars and Michelle couldn’t help but wonder where each had come from.
“Miss Loving. Do you have everything you need?”
Michelle cleared her throat. “Yes. Thank you.”
Kendra nodded and turned her attention to Brad, seated directly across from her. “Did you finish your homework?”
“Almost.”
“Almost doesn’t cut it. You finish before you work Apache.”
“I can finish before I go to bed, but if I wait till later to train her, I’ll lose the light.”
Kendra reached for an open bottle of wine on the table and poured herself a moderate glass of dark red merlot. “I don’t care. Homework first. If you want to work with Apache, maybe you would be better served to do your homework when you get home from school instead of saving your morning chores for after school. Get up earlier.”
When she finished speaking, she placed the rim of a crystal wine glass to her lips and sipped.
Oh, dear. Michelle forced herself to swallow as she turned her gaze away from Kendra’s full mouth before someone noticed.
Brad groaned the same way Michelle used to when she was in high school. Everything seemed more important than school work to her, too.
“But, Kendra—“
“That’s it, Brad. You have responsibilities on the ranch just like the rest of us. Right now, that responsibility is to earn sufficient grades to graduate. Training that filly for your girlfriend is a noble and kind thing. But it doesn’t mean you can slack off on your studies.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brent backed through the swinging door carrying a platter of steaks. He placed it in the center of the table then took the seat beside Brad. “Kendra, it’s your turn.”
The men bowed their heads and folded their hands in front of them, forearms resting on the edge of the table. Kendra did the same, the lines at the corner of her eyes softening just enough to make a difference. Suddenly less than comfortable, Michelle felt like she had intruded again. She imitated the postures surrounding her.
“Father in heaven, we thank you for the life you’ve given us; now and for eternity. We thank you for the strength to fight our battles with pride and honor. Please, lay your blessings upon the food you have given us and make us worthy to accept it. Amen.”
A mumbled chorus finalized the offered grace before the Williams men pulled the lids off of various serving dishes. Steaming potatoes and green beans filled two of the bowls, while a platter at the other end of the table held a dozen bright yellow ears of corn.
Casey picked up Michelle’s plate. “Here, let me get you set up, Michelle. What would you like? Steak?”
She nodded. “Yes, please. It looks wonderful.”
“Rare? Medium?”
“Rare, please.”
Casey dug around the platter until he found the right piece for her and then continued to fill her plate. When he set it back in front of her, it contained a feast she’d never be able to finish.
Once everyone had been served, Michelle said, “You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble for me. I mean, the silver and china; this great meal. I don’t want to put anyone out.”
Kendra shifted in her seat, but did not look up from her plate. “We didn’t.”
Brent raised a mouthful of steak to his lips, but stopped before speaking. “What she means is, we always eat family meals. This is normal for us.”
“You guys eat on china every day?”
“Yep. We’re all pretty busy and this is the one time of day when we’re all in the same place at the same time. Might as well make the most of it.”
“I think that’s wonderful. Most people eat on the run these days. I know most of my meals come in Styrofoam boxes.”
The meal progressed with easy conversation. Kendra remained silent through it all, but Michelle felt her presence like a distant wild wind; visible on the horizon, but never quite reaching her.
From the corner of her eye, Michelle studied Kendra’s movements. Efficient. Determined. The gentle hold she placed on the
delicate silverware and the light touch that she used to grasp the crystal stemware contradicted her appearance. She seemed out of place, even in the antique world in which she’d chosen to live. Her clothes and gruff attitude belied her gentle manners and stoic silence.
“What is it you do exactly, Miss Loving?”
Kendra’s voice sounded firm. Not unfriendly, but measured and deliberate. It startled Michelle and she dropped her fork, the clank of silver on china echoed the beginning of a short, awkward silence.
She retrieved the fork and sliced another piece of steak. “I’m a public relations consultant. I create marketing campaigns, mostly online. I tell people what to think.”
“In my experience, people think what they want to think.”
“To a certain extent, that’s true. Individuals have the ability to think for themselves and make decisions based on what is best for them, but conformity is also a human trait. Trends and fads are nothing new, and I help to create those trends and fads.”
Kendra scoffed. “Sheep.”
“Pardon me?”
“You breed sheep, Miss Loving. You count on the fact that large segments of the population tend to follow the same patterns. Not everyone does.”
“I create marketing campaigns that bring certain issues, businesses, and even people, into a better light among the masses.”
“Marketing campaigns.” Kendra placed her knife and fork together on the plate at the four o’clock position one might use at a fancy restaurant to let the server know the diner had completed her meal. Michelle half-expected a uniformed busboy to come from the kitchen and collect the dishes.
“Yes. Marketing campaigns,” she replied, matter-of-factly.
“And how do you apply that to a working cattle ranch?”
“Well,” she said, hedging her thoughts. Here we go. “Lacey explained a little bit of what has been happening here. You’re in danger of losing your range lease and we thought we could build a comprehensive website to increase the value of the ranch to the community, as well as show the people that issued the lease just how valuable you and your community find it. Show them the land is being used for the purpose intended and there’s no need to change anything.”
“’Increase community value?’” Kendra quoted, turning Michelle’s matter-of-fact statement into a question. No, not really a question...
An accusation.
Had she heard anything she’d said? Or did she only hear what she wanted? For Lacey’s sake, she smiled through her annoyance. “Yes. We will be increasing the value that the community places on the ranch.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“We would like to have a portion of the site dedicated to education. For instance, students who have no access to this lifestyle can learn about what you do here.”
Kendra skidded her chair back a few inches and crossed one ankle over her knee. “And you think showing them the beef raising process will do that. How?”
Michelle sensed Kendra’s reluctance like a hammer in her chest. Subtlety was not this woman’s forte. Michelle put down her silverware and leaned back in her chair. Crossing her arms, she glared at Kendra. “It will show the global community that this ranch is a valuable asset to our nation’s history and culture. And people, especially politicians, like community service. And if they can take credit for supporting something along those lines, they will.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“Kennie, why don’t you –“
Kendra cut off Brad’s comment with one raised finger, but didn’t look at him. “Miss Loving –“
Did Kendra just growl at her?
“I appreciate your motives,” Kendra continued, “and those of my misguided family, but I don’t hold any hope that this little project of yours will do anything but cost me a shit-load of money, not to mention the distraction it will cause when we have more important problems to worry about. I’ve agreed to let you do this. I’ve agreed to pay for it. But, you will stay out of my way. You won’t cause me any more problems or headaches than I already have. Take your pictures. Write your stories, or lessons, or whatever you’re going to do. Just don’t think for one minute that I’m going to help you do it.”
Kendra grabbed her hat and stomped out of the house. Why did the woman have to smell so damn good? Like honeysuckles and spring rain.
She’d changed her clothes, too. She looked even better in blue jeans than she had in that little dress. Her hair was still tucked up on itself and when she’d come up behind her, before dinner, when her face had turned over her shoulder watching Kendra approach, she’d been oh-so-tempted to pull it free. She wanted to watch it fall over her shoulders and down her back.
Her naked back.
Throwing open the barn door, Kendra stepped inside and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Apache whinnied and her mother, Navajo, echoed the sound. When she could see clearly, she moved to the third empty stall and lifted her saddle from its perch.
A long ride. That’s what she needed. A night on the range overseeing the herd. She’d bring her fence kit along and make some repairs. Maybe she’d find where Mason’s boys were coming through. When she left the barn through the opposite end, she whistled to Preakness, her quarter-horse gelding. The tall Grey trotted from the other side of the corral and nudged her in the cheek with his velvety muzzle.
The sun reflected off the weathervane she’d made for Lacey almost fifteen years ago, sending rays of light onto the dusty ground. She looked behind her as the fireball dipped its bottom edge below the horizon. She’d have to hurry if she planned to make the night-watch camp before it grew too dark to see.
“You were a bit rough on her, weren’t you, Sis?”
“I don’t have time to chat, Brent. I’m taking the night watch. I’ll send Ken Bastian back in the morning.”
“Ken is scheduled to be out there for two days. I think he’d prefer to get paid, don’t you? He and that little wife of his need every dime they can get—“
“So pay him.” Kendra pulled the cinch tight under Preakness’ belly, waited a moment for the horse to relax, and then pulled it again.
“So, you’re giving the hands paid time off now? I think the guys will appreciate it. Mighty nice of you.”
Kendra flipped the stirrup back into place and turned to face her brother. Brent leaned against the fence, one foot on the bottom board, and let his arms hang over the top. He looked exactly like their father when he did that. Her heart skipped a beat and she pushed the longing back where it belonged, too. “What do you want?”
Brent spread his arms wide – just like Dad. “Who me? Nothin’.”
“You think I should apologize.”
“Should you?”
Kendra pulled off her hat and ran her other hand through her short hair. Settling the hat back on her head, she replied, “Nope.” She turned back to Preakness. After positioning the bit, she took up the reins and lifted one foot in the stirrup. Frozen in time, she closed her eyes.
What if Michelle was in her room right this minute, crying? She winced; she had been rough on her. Michelle had agreed to do this for her family out of kindness. According to Lacey, she didn’t need the money. Michelle Loving had more than enough clients to keep her firm in the black. In fact, when Lacey had called last night, she’d said Michelle probably shouldn’t have taken the job from a business standpoint. To make the website the way she wanted, she’d have to leave her business, her home, for at least a month. As a businesswoman herself, Kendra knew how risky that could be.
And what had she done?
She’d insulted the woman.
Her foot fell back to the loose dirt, but she didn’t turn around. “Are you still there?”
“Yup.”
“Where is she?”
“In the house. She tried to help Brad with the dishes, but he wouldn’t let her. I think she’s in her room.”
Hell.
She’d have to go apologize now. I
f there was one thing on this earth she hated as much as Harold Mason, it was apologizing. She wasn’t any good at it, first of all, and secondly… she rarely felt the need to. But she’d been out of line with Michelle.
Kendra left Preakness saddled in the corral and returned to the house. Brent walked with her part of the way, before pulling his truck keys from his front pocket and heading to his Ford. “I’m going to town for a bit. Don’t wait up.”
Kendra climbed the porch steps and paused.
Loud, fast piano music came from the parlor. She walked the length of the porch until she found a partially opened window. The shade rested half-way down and she squatted to peer beneath it.
Brad and Casey stood on either side of her mother’s old upright, singing along with an old, fifties rock-and-roll number. Michelle sat on the bench, pounding the keys like a cross between Jerry Lee Lewis and the goddess Venus. Her hair had come loose and danced around her head—wild and full of life. When she turned her face to look at Casey, Kendra could barely breathe. Her smile lit the whole room. Sweet, feminine laughter rang through the house like no sound had in years. She looked like she belonged there, in her mother’s parlor, playing her mother’s piano. She looked like part of the damn family.
But, she didn’t look any worse for wear from Kendra’s comments, either. She was hardly crying in her damn pillow.
And Kendra was going to apologize?
No. Not just no, but hell no.
If she had any part of her worth anything, it was her honesty. She’d been nothing but honest with the woman, and Michelle Loving obviously didn’t give two cents for her thoughts on the matter, anyway.
Kendra stomped back to the corral, jumped on Preak’s back and made her way out of the compound. A couple of days away from the house was just what she needed.
“You’re really good, Michelle.” Brad flopped on the sofa, breathless. His cheeks glowed red from the exertion.
“I used to play all the time. I just don’t always have the time these days. Say, don’t you have homework to finish?”
Brad groaned. “Not you, too?”
Loving the Heartland Page 4