The Cowboy and the Girl Next Door: (A Clean, Enemies to Lovers Romance) Wyle Away Ranch Book 1

by Janette Rallison

  The ironic thing was that Angelina would be the perfect girlfriend for a rancher, the perfect wife. If she was living at the Wyle Away, she would ensure his animals had the best care. The savings in vet bills alone was enough to make a man consider her as an option.

  Landon couldn’t use Angelina for her expertise, though. He couldn’t even lead her on, knowing that dating her would be a boon for his ranch. He wasn’t that sort. And Angelina realized that about him or she wouldn’t have offered free help.

  Pity that Kitty didn’t realize it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  February came and, despite lower-than-average beef prices that winter, Kate congratulated herself on still having enough money in the bank to pay her upcoming grazing fees to the Bureau of Land Management. Seven thousand dollars, due the end of the month.

  Then her truck broke down. A mechanic informed her that the transmission was out for the count. Perhaps she should have expected this eventuality since the thing was nearly thirty years old, but she'd hoped that the daily pep talks she gave it would provide it the fortitude to see out the year.

  Alas, no. She had a truck lease now.

  Her tractor was the next thing to give her trouble. Anything in the engine block was beyond Gary’s capabilities to fix, and due to the computer software the tractor used, she couldn’t take it anywhere except the John Deere dealer. They didn’t make house calls, so she had to pay someone to drive to Coyote Glen, load her tractor into a truck, and haul it in for repair. The whole thing set her back nearly five grand.

  And there went a good portion of the money earmarked to pay grazing fees.

  Two days later, one of windmill pumps stopped working. The repairman told her—as though she’d neglected a child—that she should have replaced the oil in the gears months ago. They were shot, and she needed to replace her sucker rod as well.

  She laughed when the repairman told her about the sucker rod because that was obviously the punchline to a joke, and he must be kidding about the estimate he’d just given her. But it turned out that a sucker rod was a real thing, and she had to buy a new one.

  This repair was doubly frustrating because the expense could have been avoided. Should have been avoided. Part of her wanted to blame Gary for not warning her to check the oil. He was supposed to know what needed to be done on a ranch. She hadn’t even realized that windmills needed oil. But in his defense, he’d never claimed an expertise with windmills, and really, the yearly oiling that hadn’t happened was on Dewayne’s watch. Perhaps it was one of the ways he’d planned to sabotage her.

  In order to pay the BLM grazing fee, she was going to have to sell four head. After culling the barren cows and taking the weaned calves to auction, she was down to one hundred and eighty-six head. Her herd would increase nearly one hundred and sixty after calving season, but she’d probably lose some to illness or coyotes. She didn’t have a lot of margin. She would have to watch her costs, be thriftier, and adhere to her grandfather’s motto: repair, reuse, make it do.

  So when the floor of her cattle trailer showed signs of rot, she was more than happy to believe Gary when he assured her that he could fix it. Turned out, Gary’s fix wasn’t adequate. When he loaded the cows in, one punched through the floor and broke her leg.

  Kate considered firing Gary then—not because she ended up having to euthanize the animal but because he didn’t seem to care that his incompetency had caused the animal’s pain. He blamed the place that sold him the wood, the trailer’s age, and the animals themselves for creating an unbalanced load.

  He was still finding places to shift the blame the next day. To stop him, Kate said, “We can’t undo the past.” This month was determined to end in the red. She’d just have to find a way to crawl back in the black as quickly as possible so she didn’t lose the ranch. Three months of debt would sink her. She’d take the trailer somewhere to have it fixed, pay the vet to inspect a different cow, and then sell it and the three that hadn’t been injured by Gary’s incompetence.

  “Let’s go over the upcoming expenses,” she told Gary. “We need to find ways to cut some costs.”

  Gary followed her to the barn’s small corner office and sat in a folding chair beside Kate while she brought up her spreadsheet on the computer. She stared dejectedly at the numbers.

  Gary pointed to the line for feed. “The easiest way to cut costs is to stop buying that premium feed you like so much. I know where you can get some bargain basement stuff. You could cut this number in half.”

  “Would the feed still be healthy?”

  “Nope. That's why it's bargain basement. They throw in everything but the nutrients.” He shrugged as though this shouldn't matter. “The cattle won't have the weight you’d like, but your grandfather's will only specifies you have three hundred and thirteen head. Doesn’t say nothing about their weight.” He took out his cell phone, ready to make a call.

  Kate shook her head. “If the cattle aren’t healthy, they’ll be more prone to disease.”

  “You only need to keep them alive another six months. Then they’ll all be sold anyway.”

  She was definitely going to have to talk to her father about Gary’s continued employment. His attitude irked her. “I can't sell malnourished cows who’ve been eating who-knows-what. The beef is going to end up on people’s tables.”

  Gary snorted. “People eat a lot worse. You think in between their Cheetos and Oreos, folks are gonna care what’s in their hamburger?”

  How many people like Gary were in the food industry? Kate was seriously going to worry the next time she went grocery shopping. She rubbed her brow to erase those thoughts. “I don't want to misfeed cows or people.”

  Gary leaned back in his chair like she was the one who was being unreasonable. “I’ll talk to your parents about it.”

  That irritated her too. He thought her parents were in charge of making decisions, not her. Well, he was going to be disappointed if he tried to go over her head about this. She smiled politely at him. “I’ll talk to them about it too.”

  “You can’t fire him,” Kate’s mother told her. “You need help running things.”

  “Exactly my point.” Kate paced across her living room with such quick strides. Missy was sure she was about to head out somewhere and was following her expectantly. “I need help from someone who knows what he’s doing. That isn’t what I have.”

  “You can’t fire Gary,” her father added, “because he’s working for half salary with the expectation he’ll receive a bonus when we sell. If you terminate employment, his contract states you have to pay him the difference in salary.”

  Money she didn’t have. “He blamed the cows for his shoddy job on the trailer floor. The cows. Like the bunch of them tried to break out and make a run for it.”

  Her father’s voice turned soothing. “Cheaper feed for a few months won’t kill your cattle. You’ve got to cut costs.”

  “Or,” she said, with a sudden glimmer of hope, “I can increase revenue.”

  Revenue didn’t have to come through cow sales. The will never specified that. It only said that no one could gift her money or things. The Wyle Away Ranch made extra income by offering adventure packages. Jaxon occasionally took tourists horseback riding, rock climbing, and repelling. Kate didn't have any expertise in those area, but she knew how to decorate.

  “Maybe I could promote Coyote Glen as a wedding destination,” she said, thinking out loud. “Grandma’s gazebo is charming.” The rose bushes around it looked like something from a fairy tale. “I could string outdoor lighting from the trees.” Tall cottonwoods and eucalyptus trees grew around the perimeter of the backyard. “People pay thousands of dollars for wedding venues, right?” The ranch already had a website, she could update it to include wedding packages.

  Her mother made a skeptical sounding noise. “You’d have a lot of startup costs—supplies to buy, marketing costs, and what would you do for bathrooms?”

  Let people use hers. The house had thr
ee. Kate’s mind was jumping ahead to decorations. She had plenty of wood lying around. She’d make rustic wedding arches and decorate them with roses and eucalyptus. She could use her contacts in the fabric business to buy sheer voile wholesale for draping.

  “Check the insurance costs first,” her father said.

  Kate turned around and surveyed the living room. With the changes she’d made, the house looked quaint and homey. “I’ve got two spare bedrooms. I could rent them to people who want a getaway in the wide-open spaces.”

  “I’m not sure I like that idea,” her mother said. “Having strangers in the house could be dangerous when you’re there alone.”

  “For the right price,” Kate said, “I’d happily sleep in the barn.” But it wouldn’t come to that. Lots of people did Airbnb without any problems. She was close to Tombstone and tons of tourists went there every year. Some of them would want to spend time at a real cattle ranch.

  “Don’t rashly jump into things,” her father added, perhaps because Kate had gone quiet. “You need to think about this.”

  Kate already was. She would need bridal pictures to put on the website. She could pick up a used dress online, turn some of Grandma’s roses into a bouquet, get out her tripod, and model for pictures. A photo of herself sitting sidesaddle atop Marigold would be perfect. She’d look like a princess. What bride wouldn’t want that?

  Kate had just found a way to save her ranch.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  On most days, Landon kept himself as busy as possible for as long as possible. It was easy to do on a ranch. Perhaps he’d been working too hard, though, because that week when his cousin Samantha came for a visit, Jaxon insisted that Landon should be the one to take off work and play host. Samantha’s folks had a ranch in Round Valley, a fact that caused more than a little family competition, and she wanted to go to the livestock auction an hour away in Wilcox to see if she could pick up some longhorn.

  The parking lot was crowded. Landon dropped her off so she could get a head start looking at the animals in the stalls and nearby corrals, then went to park the trailer. When Landon got to the stalls, he didn’t spot Samantha’s long brown hair, slim build, or white cowboy hat anywhere. He hoped she wasn’t off flirting with someone. He called her phone. “You couldn’t have gotten lost already. Where are you?”

  “At the far end of the parking lot, talking to a seller. I want you to come and take a look at these cows and tell me what you think.” Her tone was slightly off—an emphasis on tell me what you think, that let Landon know something wasn’t right. Samantha didn’t need his opinion to know whether an animal was from good stock.

  “I’m on my way.” Landon strode out of the pens and across the parking lot. He spotted Samantha talking to a tall, thin man in a baseball cap and sunglasses. He was chewing tobacco and glancing around too often. Years of hiring day laborers had taught Landon to spot certain things. The man was tanned, which meant he was used to working outside. If he had arm muscles, they were the wiry sort because they didn’t fill out his sleeves. His face had a gaunt look to it and several sores dotted his cheeks. Signs of meth use.

  Samantha waved Landon over. “This is Jake. He heard I was from up north and offered me a chance to by some cows for cheap—without the auction commission.”

  And without the stockyard checking the seller’s background or brand.

  Jake gestured to the sixteen-foot trailer behind them. A couple of head were visible through the bars. “Good stock for breeding. And I’m not charging extra for the calves they’re carrying. Won’t get no better deal than that.”

  Samantha gave Landon a meaningful look. “I thought I ought to check and make sure they weren’t some of yours.”

  Landon took a better look at the trailer and saw why she was suspicious. The Wyle Away had mostly Angus, Brangus, and Hereford. They were all common enough around here, but for years his father had also crossbred some Longhorn with his Hereford to create more drought-tolerant stock. One of the cows in the trailer appeared to be that sort of mix—a red coat with a sprinkling of white spots.

  Theft was a constant problem with ranching. Since cattle were usually spread out on miles of grazing land, someone could cut a fence, lure cattle to them with feed, and load them into their trailer. The cattle wouldn’t even be missed until the next time they were rounded up.

  No wonder the guy was looking for buyers who lived out of the area. Landon positioned himself on the other side of the man to make sure he didn’t bolt. “I’ll need to check those brands.”

  Jake—if that was his real name—glanced between Landon and Samantha, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. He shook his head and spit on the ground. “I don’t need to prove nothing to you. I got better things to do than stand here while you accuse me of stealing.”

  No, he didn’t. As the man turned to slink off toward his truck, Landon stepped in his way. “Actually that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Stand there and give me the keys to your trailer.” In the Old West, folks used to hang cattle rustlers. Landon didn’t think that was an overreaction. “Keys,” he said, hand out.

  The man scowled and lifted his scraggly chin in defiance. “I ain’t giving you nothing.”

  Landon took a step closer. He could pick up the dude and shake the keys out of his pockets. “If you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll call the police and let you deal with them.”

  Jake’s bravado instantly vanished. He held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Look, I got these from a guy who told me he was liquidating his ranch. If they’re stolen, I didn’t know nothing about it. I’m just here trying to make a living same as everyone else.”

  Doubtful. Nobody else was out in the parking lot selling contraband cows like they were imitation Rolexes. “Are you going to open the back?” Landon reached for his cell phone.

  Jake swore, took the keys from his pocket, and marched to the trailer door. “I’ll let you take a look. No need to call anyone.” He opened the door and moved aside to allow entrance.

  The six cows did their best to back up and get away from him. One mooed in distress.

  “Easy,” Landon told them. They had no ear tags, but those were easy enough to remove. That was why ranches still had to use brands. He went to the closest animal and angled himself to look at her right flank. Rustlers sometimes added new marks to a brand in an attempt to hide it, but he would still be able to recognize the angular lines of the Wyle Away’s W with a line through the bottom to form an A.

  Instead, he saw the letters CG. A brand nearly as familiar with as his own. Coyote Glen. Not even doctored. That’s why Jake had taken to making parking lot deals at cut rate prices. He wouldn’t be able to move them through an auction site or to a reputable company.

  “Landon!” Samantha called. Something was going down outside.

  In three strides, Landon had crossed the length of the trailer, his boots clanking against the floor so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else. He jumped down, slammed the door shut, and rounded the corner in time to see Samantha pulling herself off the ground. Jake was darting across the parking lot. The guy had decided to abandon his trailer along with the cattle and make a run for it.

  Landon took off after him. Jake had a head start and he was fast, pumping the air for all he was worth, but Landon wasn’t about to let him get away. Not after he’d stolen Kitty’s cattle. The guy was going down.

  Jake darted between two trucks and disappeared from view. Landon followed. He glanced left and then right. Nothing. He’d lost the man.

  Samantha’s voice came from a few feet behind him. “To your left! He went under the truck!”

  Landon turned and sprinted that way. Yep, Jake had doubled back and was weaving through the next row. Nice trick. This obviously wasn’t the first time the guy had to lose someone in a chase.

  Jake glanced over his shoulder, saw Landon closing the distance, and cut through another row. Up ahead, a weathered silver Ford truck sputtered on and coughed ou
t exhaust. Jake tore toward it.

  An accomplice. Since the truck was facing the other direction, all Landon could see of the driver was his blue baseball cap. No license plate. If Jake reached the Ford, he’d be gone.

  The truck revved its engine, telling Jake to hurry. If Landon tried to tackle Jake and missed, he’d have nothing to break his plunge to the parking lot. But if he didn’t try, he’d always regret it. Kitty deserved some justice.

  Time to revive the old high school football moves. Landon put on an extra burst of speed and launched himself at Jake. He caught hold of the man’s arms and pulled him down. Even with the guy to cushion the fall, the asphalt still slammed into Landon. His knuckles scraped against the ground and his knee stung.

  Jake struggled to break free, elbows jabbing wildly. Landon held him tight. The truck didn’t wait to see how the wrestling match ended. It sped off, nearly screeching as it tore out of parking lot. Landon was too busy keeping Jake pinned to the ground to attempt another look at the driver.

  Samantha ran up, breathless, her cell phone out. “The police are on their way.”

  Good. They could take over.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Landon said. “But I just realized all my football memories lied to me.”

  Jake finally stopped struggling. He either realized his chances of escape weren’t good or he was tired. He lay there, face pressed to the asphalt, cursing and threatening to sue Landon for assault. After a solid minute of that, he took a deep breath and tried a different tactic. “You let me go now, and I won’t press no assault charges. Otherwise, you’re gonna talk to my lawyer.”

  “You’ve got my girlfriend’s cattle,” Landon said calmly. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Coyote Glen’s brand?” Samantha asked.

  “Yep.”