Loving the Heartland

by Marjorie Jones

  “Go on,” she coaxed. “Finish it up and then I want to hear all about this Apache person.”

  “She’s a filly, not a person,” he responded with a Chuckle and a slow shake of his head. “City folk.”

  Michelle grinned. “You don’t say? And what are you doing with her?”

  “I’m breaking her for my girlfriend. She’s two.”

  “You’re girlfriend is two?” Casey, sitting on a chair on the other side of the piano, feigned shock.

  Michelle smacked him in the arm and laughed.

  “Very funny, Case.” Brad lifted his long frame from the couch and headed upstairs. “I’ll take you out to see her when I’m done. Give me about thirty minutes.”

  “Okay. It’s a date.” Michelle waited for Brad to go up the stairs before she took his spot on the sofa. Casey stayed in the overstuffed chair by the window, looking content and relaxed. Pretty much the polar opposite of his older sister. Except in his eyes. They had the same lonely eyes.

  “She doesn’t like me very much, does she?”

  Casey frowned. “Kendra? She doesn’t like anyone very much. But, mostly, it’s just an act. She cares about this ranch, this family, more than she cares about herself. She’ll come around. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

  Michelle looked past Casey and tried to make out the barn in the failing twilight. “Where did she go?”

  Casey shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably out to check on the herd. We’ve lost a ton of stock over the past few weeks.”

  “What do you mean, ‘lost’?”

  Casey paused and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as though what he was about to say was the most important statement in the history of mankind. “I mean, someone has been killing off our herd. A few each week. Even more, lately. Upwards of ten every night. We don’t have any proof, but we’re all pretty sure its Harold Mason. That’s why we have to watch over the herd; post guards. It’s costing us a fortune, but we don’t have much choice. We can’t let them graze unattended like we normally would.”

  “And that’s what all the excitement was about this afternoon?”

  “Yeah. You know, he’s trying to buy the ranch. See, in order for a person to qualify for a range lease, you have to own your own land first. Then you have to agree to use the land for the purpose it was set aside for originally. In this case, grazing.

  “But Mason is a powerful man. He thinks he can come in here, buy us out, and then have his friends in high places change the land usage. He wants to put in a resort. You know, the kind where city folk can come in, play cowboy for a couple of weeks and go back to their designer coffee and iPads.”

  “And you think he’s killing your livestock to make you sell out to him.” Michelle could hear the doubt in her own voice. “It sounds like something out of an old western movie. People don’t really do that, do they?”

  “You’d be surprised.” Casey reclined and crossed his legs just like his big sister had at dinner.

  All the kids, except Lacey – who was totally femme, like her – seemed to share traits, but Kendra owned them. Everything about her, from her walk to her growl, was original. She’d never met anyone like Kendra. Disturbed by her train of thought, Michelle stood, meandered across the parlor, and pretended to study an old oil painting of a tall ship on rough seas. “So, what can you do about it?”

  “Fight back. That’s why you’re here. Kendra would rather handle it on her own, of course. The old way. But it’s a new world out there, whether she likes it or not. We’ll let her fight her range war. Hell, I’ll fight it with her when it comes to that. But, in the meantime, we’ll wage a little techno-war and gain as much support as we can.”

  “I think we need to focus on the contributions this place makes as a part of American heritage. Play up the old west theme and check out having the buildings registered as historical landmarks.”

  “Already on it. I sent the paperwork in last month.”

  “Good. That will look great on a website.”

  A few minutes later, Brad descended the stairs and Michelle walked with him to the barn. The setting sun created a red and yellow glow over the horizon. The canyon walls in the distance had turned black. The mountaintops welcomed the stars. A horse whinnied far in the distance, drawing her attention. A lone rider topped a rise, the woman and her beast in perfect harmony as they sped over the range.

  Michelle stared, knowing it was Kendra Williams.

  When she reached the pinnacle, she stopped. The tiny horse pranced on the horizon, spun and then reared on its hind legs.

  One minute, she felt like she witnessed something spectacular; rare; even magical.

  The next minute, Kendra was gone.

  Chapter Four

  Preakness reared onto his hind legs as if to tell Kendra that he either didn’t want to spend the night outside the comfort of his stall or he looked forward to the freedom of a night on the range. Kendra suspected the latter. She pulled the reins, forcing him off balance. She braced for the jolt of the animal’s front hooves as they met the hard earth, which followed a moment later. Using her dulled spurs to kick Preak’s ribs, she pushed her mount forward.

  Darkness fell over the range. In the distance, she spied the glowing yellow lights of several campfires. She almost believed the watch settled in for the long, quiet night. She suspected differently, however, since Mason had made it a point to take about ten head of cattle every night for the past month.

  Early on, the livestock had simply vanished. She’d suspected mountain lions, at first. Later, blood trails had seemed to confirm her suspicions, but the numbers of missing livestock belied her theory. There were simply too many. She’d begun to suspect foul play. She’d begun to suspect Harold Mason.

  The night watch worked in shifts guarding the herd because of the threat, and even though cattle continually vanished, none of the hands had heard any shots. Was he using bows? Sniper rifles from far enough away that they simply didn’t hear the shots? Whatever he was doing, Kendra feared the possibility of an increased risk to her family. If Mason could get onto her property and take the herd, he could take something of more value.

  “Rider coming!” Carlosos Rodriguez shouted, his deep voice carrying over the night air.

  Shuffling answered Rodriguez’ warning. Kendra walked Preakness into the firelight. The off-duty herdsmen stood in a line in front of the fire, their figures casting an eerie silhouette, six-shooters drawn toward her. “It’s me. Holster those damn things.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Carlos replied. “We aren’t taking any chances.”

  Kendra dismounted. “It’s all right.” Better than all right. The time may come when such precautions were more than necessary. In fact, she was rather impressed with the guys’ willingness to defend her property.

  Carlos handed her a tin cup filled with the mud he called coffee. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Got bored.” The lie tasted even more bitter than the drink. “Everything OK? Any sign of Mason’s thugs?”

  “Nope. It’s been quiet all day. I guess Brent told you about last night?”

  Kendra took a sip and grimaced. “Yeah. How many of the boys are posted on the herd?”

  “Eight. We’re working two shifts tonight instead of three to keep more of the herd covered. That way we’ll have four guys awake at a time instead of just two or three. But there’s a lot of ground out there. If they slip by the guys, they can still cause problems. We need more men.”

  “I know.” Kendra handed the cup to Carlos before turning back to her horse. “I’m going to ride the perimeter. See if I can find anything.” She untied a bedroll from the back of her saddle and tossed it to Carlos. “Roll that out for me, will ya?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  By the time she’d ridden ten minutes, silence surrounded her. It seemed like even the wind stood still. Waiting.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she rubbed one hand over the tingling
sensation. A cow lowed in the distance, telling her she neared the herd. Preakness picked his way through the dark.

  How had it come to this? What made one person so damn greedy that he would stop at nothing just to prove he could get what he wanted? Power, she’d heard, could change a man. Make him bent on retaining and expanding his control over others at any cost. That sure as hell described Harold Mason.

  The first offer had come in almost a year ago. Half a million dollars for her land and immediate surrender of the range lease. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked her to release her lease, but no one had wanted to buy her land before. She’d written back immediately and politely declined the offer. Three more offers, each one increasing in value, followed over the course of several weeks. Then, Mason had come to Randall City in person and planted seeds of doubt in the minds of the Randall County Commission, the mayor and other influential citizens. He told them his friends in the legislature had already agreed to give Mason control of the range lands at the end of the lease term and if the county wanted a slice of the money pie, they’d better get on board quick.

  Mason had lied, of course. Her family had been awarded the lease every time they’d applied for it, consistently, for more than one hundred years. The Heartland was the oldest, most established and successful cattle outfit in the county. In three counties. The government wouldn’t just stop awarding the lease without a damn good reason.

  The commissioners had all listened politely, nodded their heads in silent dismissal of the claims and moved on to other business. Everyone, including Kendra, had thought that would be the end of it. They hadn’t expected that Mason would set up shop right on Main Street. He gave large sums of money to local charities. He sponsored three local youth teams: football, baseball and soccer.

  It wouldn’t surprise her if Harold Mason was the guy that the local priest went to when he needed to confess. The man had invested time and energy in creating a bona-fide persona for himself in the community.

  Michelle Loving had talked about community value. She wouldn’t have to explain that to Saint Harold Mason; not by a long shot.

  It wasn’t long after Mason had settled in that Lacey had suggested fighting his fire with some of their own. “We need a powerful campaign against Mason’s ideas. And we need to make sure the same people Mason is talking to can see it. Let me talk to my friend. She does this sort of thing all the time.”

  Kendra had said no. She didn’t need any help. She never needed help. At barely twenty, she’d gained custody of her orphaned brothers and sister. She’d taken them through school, chicken pox, first dates and broken hearts. Both mother and father, she’d tended to them as if they were her own. If she could do that, raise four decent citizens possessed of honor and courage, she sure as hell could defend herself against some silver-tongued-devil with a fat checkbook. She wasn’t entirely without resources.

  But in the end, they’d done what they always had. They ganged up on her until she couldn’t bear to disappoint them anymore. And if she did stand her ground, they would do what they wanted anyway, more often than not. She really shouldn’t be surprised they’d hired Michelle Loving behind her back.

  A picture of the shapely Miss Loving passed in front of her. Hair loose, round hips encased in blue denim, Michelle Loving slid next to her. Eyes dark with wanting; lips parted for a kiss. She could feel her heat against her despite the very real chill of the late spring night. She inhaled Michelle Loving’s scent in the dry air. The scent of woman.

  How long had it been since she’d paid attention to something like that?

  If she were completely honest, she couldn’t remember. She’d dated a couple of women in the city when the kids were younger, but found the games required of her a waste of time and energy.

  One woman she had fallen head-over-heels for had played her for a complete fool. Another gal, here in town, had been more than a little interested, but Kendra had nipped that right in the bud. Dating someone around here had been out of the question, of course. The last thing she needed was to defend her sexuality in a state known for its religious convictions. The kids – her family – were far more important than her happiness. Hell, they made her happy, right?

  As it was, half the town didn’t know she was gay and the other half wallowed in their own plausible deniability. Her mother had known. Her father hadn’t. Her mother didn’t care. She suspected her father would have. Not that he was a bible-beater or excessively judgmental. But he was old-fashioned and set in his ways. She was lucky, really. He would have had a better time of it with a tough, lesbian daughter working alongside him than an effeminate, gay son, certainly. “There’s nothing wrong with being a tomboy, Kennie-girl,” he’d said on the one occasion that she’d attempted to bring it up. “You’ll grow out of it and find yourself a right nice fella. Don’t you worry, none.”

  When her parents had been killed, her love life got put on the back burner, anyway, so what did it matter? Concerned more with homework, school plays, and keeping the ranch in full operation, she hadn’t been on a real date since Brad had been in the second grade. On top of everything else, she’d had to prove to the Good Ol’ Boy network that she was as capable as any man. It hadn’t been easy, not one little bit, but it had been worth it. All of it.

  And if she didn’t figure a way out of her current situation, it will have all been for nothing.

  Why was all of this bothering her now? When she had so many more important things to worry about? Was she so hard-up that the mere presence of a woman in her home made her remember everything she’d given up for the sake of her family?

  Sure. That’s must be it. It wasn’t Michelle Loving that made her randy as a goat. It was the fact Michelle Loving was a beautiful female. Kendra just needed to get laid.

  Pushing the thoughts out of her mind as best she could, she moved her horse toward the first cowboy in a circle of guards.

  “That you, Kennie?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded at Cran Willard. “You staying awake?”

  Cran raised a thermos mug of what must be coffee. “You know it. Everything’s been quiet so far.”

  “Keep an eye out. We haven’t heard anything before.”

  “Will do. Hey, are you gonna let Brad ride in the Sunny Days Rodeo this summer?”

  “I’m thinking about it. We’ll see how his geometry final goes.”

  Cran grinned. “You’re too hard on that kid, you know that? What’s geometry got to do with keeping your ass on a bull for eight seconds?”

  Kendra smiled back at the older man. “Nothing, except when the bull breaks you in half, you might actually have to get a real job, someday. A high school diploma tends to help out in that department.”

  “You’re too hard on that boy.”

  “He only has to put up with me for one more year of high school, and then he can ride all the bulls he wants to.”

  Kendra pushed on, completing a full circle around the herd before returning to camp. Her bed roll lay beside the fire. Stars called to her from the heavens, beckoning sleep. She didn’t want to listen to them. She made short work of unsaddling her horse and turned him out to pasture.

  So far, so good. The cowboys had seen and heard nothing. But that didn’t mean that nothing would happen, or hadn’t happened already.

  She hated the waiting and the not knowing. A woman of action and few words, she knew herself well enough to know she couldn’t sit on her haunches forever. She had to do something and she needed to do it quick.

  But what?

  Mac was right. This wasn’t the old west, as much as she wanted it to be. Times changed around her and the days of rounding up the bad-boys and hanging them from oak limbs had long passed.

  She settled on her bed roll, entwined her fingers and rested her head on her hands, staring into the heavens. Somewhere, in the night sky where the angels danced with the wranglers, laid the answer. She just had to open her ears and listen to it.

  A meteor streaked across the sky.<
br />
  Make a wish, Kennie. She heard her mother’s voice as clear as day. She was five and had wished for a baby brother. She’d been granted that wish with a vengeance. Brent. She smiled.

  What should she wish for now? Peace to live her life the way she always had? Happiness for her family? For herself? A debilitating illness for Harold Mason? She smiled. No such luck. Her eyes fell closed and a golden-haired vixen took up residence in her thoughts. Her smile faded.

  She would not wish for that.

  Not in a million years.

  

  Bright rays of light streamed through the lace curtains in the guest room. Dust floated in the beams. A horse whinnied in the courtyard.

  Michelle stretched beneath the soft coverlet and pushed herself up sideways onto one elbow. A silver tray holding a cup of coffee and a Danish rested on the small table beside her bed.

  Brent.

  The coffee still steamed and she wondered if his presence in her room hadn’t been what had awakened her. She looked at the clock and frowned.

  Six-thirty?

  She groaned aloud. Would the ranch not be here at noon? Who in their right mind wakes up at six-freakin-thirty? Tempted to throw herself back on the pillow, she tossed the coverlet aside instead, dwelling on the fact that lots of people had to get up this early to work and that she was obviously spoiled since most of her clients were available only at night thanks to the Las Vegas night life. She rushed to dress and braid her hair while she swallowed several gulps of cooling coffee. She picked up the Danish and then made her way to the kitchen.

  Brent hung up the phone just as the swinging door whispered closed behind her. “Well, good morning, Bright Eyes.” He smiled like the cat who ate the proverbial little yellow bird. What was it called? A canary? It was way too early to be awake.

  “Morning,” she replied around a mouthful of pastry.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  She nodded and adjusted the black leather backpack which held her camera, collapsible tri-pod and digital recorder. “Thanks for the coffee and this amazing little confection. Yum!”