The Rancher

by Julia Justiss

  “You know I’m willing to lend a hand.”

  “I can’t keep having you volunteer your time. If you really don’t know anyone you could recommend for me to hire, I wanted to ask if I could hire . . . you. For several hours a day, maybe every day, at least until all the calves are born.”

  Continue to work with her . . . on a semi-permanent basis? Teaching her tricks and tips on how to do everything from fence repairs and breeding cattle to keeping the books?

  Would any sane person turn down the chance to teach an eager student how to do the job they loved? Or to work once again the acres he loved so well?

  Especially with a student as serious, dedicated—and attractive—as Harrison.

  “Of course I’ll help. But I don’t want you to pay me.”

  “I insist. If you spend more time helping me, you’ll need to have Ralph handle more of the work on your place. As I get better at doing things, I want to do more of the work myself, but I know I can’t master enough of it fast enough to be able to take care of it on my own anytime soon. Not if I want to hang on to my place.” She paused, then shook her head and laughed. “Although if I did want to sell, it seems I have options. You’re not the only one who has set his sights on Scott Ranch land.”

  Duncan frowned. “Someone else approached you?”

  She nodded. “While I was at Riva’s Java this afternoon. He didn’t exactly make an offer, but I’m sure that’s what was implied.”

  “Who made an offer?”

  “Marshall Thomason. He said he grew up in Whiskey River, so I imagine you know him. He said he runs a real estate investment company in San Antonio.”

  Duncan’s frown deepened. “Yeah, I know him.”

  Harrison angled her head at him. “Something tells me you don’t like him very much.”

  Taking a long pull on the beer, Duncan shrugged. “A rich man’s son, related to all the Whiskey River social elites, he breezed through school. Captain of the football team, all the girls competing for his attention. Graduated from Texas State and went to work for his Daddy. The firm specializes in buying up tracks of Hill Country land and turning them into condo developments.”

  “Daddy’s ranch, covered with condos?” Harrison shuddered. “Over my dead body! Thanks for the warning. I’ll be even more discouraging if he approaches me again.”

  Happier than he should be that Harrison apparently hadn’t fallen for the charms of the local Golden Boy, Duncan said, “You discouraged him? That must have been a novel experience for him. Most of the women hereabouts would kill to win his favor.”

  “Not this woman. I had enough of charming self-important men like that with Parker. And I’m done.”

  So he had been right about the breakup. Which made him feel better about kissing her last night. And even more eager to repeat the experience.

  Just to confirm, he said, “You . . . aren’t with Parker any longer.”

  “No.”

  “And you’re not tempted by a rich guy like Marshall?”

  “Making money isn’t everything. Since Daddy’s death, I’ve come to believe it doesn’t matter much at all. Especially since I’ve settled on the ranch. I know I haven’t been here nearly as long as you or your family. But . . . l love this land. It’s like the story of those spirits who wander in the night until they find the place where they belong and can finally be at peace. Okay, I know that sounds corny. But Daddy’s ranch . . . feels like home. When I’m riding the open prairie, with the wind whispering in my ears, hearing the lowing of the cattle, smelling mesquite and cedar . . . Or when I walk down by the creek and sit on the limestone rocks at the water’s edge, listening to it gurgling over the stones . . . There’s this peace that trickles into my soul. I feel like I belong here. And I’d never, ever sell my land to anyone who’d turn it into condos.”

  As he listened to her, something stirred deep within him. If he could believe her, and she certainly sounded sincere, she really did feel for the land. Almost with the same passion and conviction he did.

  The possibility made her even more attractive to him.

  Shaking himself free, he said, “Good. Otherwise, I’d have to shoot Thomason.”

  Harrison laughed, lightening the mood. “You’re an expert shot, I expect.”

  “The best. My Daddy taught me and my brothers from the time we could hold a pistol. We hunted deer during the state’s open season in the fall—nothing better than a good venison steak—but mostly he wanted us to be able to handle a gun for protection. Out in the pastures, checking on the cattle, sometimes you stumble over rattlesnakes or copperheads, or a cottonmouth around the creeks. Though mountain lions are rare, packs of coyotes sometimes attack new calves or even a mama while she’s on the ground, giving birth.”

  Harrison shuddered. “I don’t like snakes. I mostly worry about fire ants, but maybe I should carry a whip. Daddy taught me to fire a pistol, but I’m not very good with it. If I saw a rattlesnake, I’d be more likely to shoot my foot than hit the snake.”

  “Maybe, once things slow down after the calving season, I can teach you to handle a weapon better.”

  He could happily envision standing behind Harrison, her back leaning against his chest while he supported her arm and coached her on how to aim and fire.

  With her that close to him, he’d have to be careful not to shoot his own foot.

  “Maybe,” she said, interrupting the pleasant vision of her almost in his arms. “But now, let me thank Isabella again. Then I’d better get you to take me home. Someone once said the sun comes up early.”

  True enough . . . though he was reluctant to let her go. But he’d see her again tomorrow, and probably most every day after that. The prospect filled him with more energy and anticipation than he’d felt in a long time.

  He followed her into the kitchen, depositing the bottle while Harrison once again expressed her appreciation to his housekeeper—who’d already made up a container of chili for her to take home and gave Harrison a hug in the bargain.

  “Go on to bed when you’re ready, Isabella,” he said, giving her a hug himself. “I have to drive Señorita Harrison home now.”

  “Yes, Señor Duncan,” she replied—and then leaned close to whisper in his ear, “I like this lady.”

  Duncan laughed. “I like her too,” he whispered back and followed Harrison out to the truck.

  *

  After another week of working together every day, their routine had become automatic. Harrison would ride in the morning, locate all the new calves, check the fence lines for damage and the water holes and creeks for brush obstruction, and work on the ranch bookkeeping. Duncan would arrive midafternoon, load supplies and equipment into the truck, and head out with her to tag the calves, help her repair any fences that needed attention, or clear brush.

  The last few days, they’d also inspected the meadows closer to the creek to estimate when it might be time to cut the spring rye grass. It was important, he advised her, to watch the weather, since you didn’t want to cut the hay if it wouldn’t have enough time to dry out before you rolled it.

  He’d also enjoyed explaining to her how and why he approached cattle as he did, demonstrating how to get the cows to move the way he wanted using point of balance and pressure zone principles.

  Now in the late afternoon, he stood by the truck, smiling as she tried to practice the techniques on a mama cow who stood nearby with her calf.

  “Daddy seemed to know what to do without using any particular system, but as a math geek, I have to appreciate the triangle principle,” she said as she slowly approached the pair.

  “That’s right—keep your steps slow and easy and make sure the mama can see you. Since she has a calf with her, her pressure zone may be farther out than it normally would be. Now, you’ve caught her attention—see how she’s looking at you, raising her head to sniff the air? Watch her carefully. If she starts tossing her head or turns to the side, you’ve upset her and will need to back away.”

  “I
need to walk in a straight line toward her shoulder, right?”

  “Yes, that’s her point of balance. You want to end up at her side, just within the pressure zone so that she’ll move, but not so close that she’s frightened. She’ll want to get around you and will move where you guide her. Yes, like that,” he encouraged as Harrison slowly reached the correct position.

  Still watching her, the cow began to walk forward as Harrison walked just behind her shoulder, a few yards away.

  “So if I want her to turn around, I move behind her, into her blind spot, right?”

  “Right.”

  Nodding, she stilled, waiting until the cow proceeded a few paces in front of her, then moving in behind the animal. At which point, the cow halted, then turned around and walked in the opposite direction. The look Harrison threw at him, amazed and delighted, made him laugh.

  For a few more minutes, Harrison maneuvered the cow, inducing her to walk forward, then turn to retrace steps, and then move to the side.

  “Nice work!” Duncan said. “That’s probably enough for her. Don’t want to push it and upset her while she’s got her baby in tow.”

  Still grinning, Harrison loped back to him. “It’s fascinating! Keeping angles from forty-five to sixty degrees, approaching, retreating, and moving from her shoulder to behind her. It’s like an elaborate ballet!”

  “It’s a Texas two-step, bovine-style,” he agreed, smiling back.

  “Well, enough practice,” she said, walking to the passenger side of the truck. “It’s time to go see Halsey III. Daddy had a long conversation with all the bulls at least once a week.”

  “Conversation?”

  “Well, monologue. He always brought some feed with him, and most times they’d eat it out of his hand.”

  “I’ve heard your Daddy’s breeding program emphasized producing herd bulls with good temperament,” he said, hopping up on the driver’s side. “Still, I’m not sure I’d ever trust a bull enough to feed him from my hand.”

  Settling back onto the seat, she chuckled. “I’ve fed them by hand myself. I guess I wasn’t smart enough to be scared. I thought it was fun when Halsey would lick my hand and try to groom me. And my, how those bulls loved Daddy! Even from the other side of the pasture, when they saw his truck pulling up, they’d come running over.”

  “Sure. They associated him with food.”

  “Right, but they also liked him. Just as he cared about them. They recognize me, since I made the rounds with Daddy every time I came home, but I’m still working on getting them to trust me and like me as much as they did him.”

  “Okay, let’s go visit Halsey. But don’t ask me to hand-feed him.”

  *

  The sun was about to set when Duncan drove the pickup back to the barn. After they climbed down and stowed the gear, Harrison said, “Would you like to stay for dinner? I can put a steak on the grill and toss together a salad.”

  Pleased that she’d made the overture—the first time she’d invited him in since that disastrous evening over a week ago—Duncan nodded. “I’d like that. I can grill the steak if you’ll do the salad.”

  “Perfect. I’ll open one of my favorite cabernets—from another great Hill Country winery.”

  “Trying to wean me off beer?” he teased.

  “Just expanding your horizons,” she replied with a smile.

  Encouraged that she seemed to be more relaxed around him after their week working together, Duncan held the door for her as she walked in.

  “I’m going to clean up and change my jeans. You can wash up in Daddy’s bathroom down that hallway,” she said, pointing him in the right direction.

  Even more progress, Duncan thought as he walked toward the room she’d indicated, if she was letting him use something that had belonged to her beloved father.

  After quickly scrubbing down his hands and face and brushing the dust out of his hair, Duncan rejoined her in the kitchen. They kept up a light conversation while she fixed the salad, he exiting from time to time to check the steak he’d thrown on the gas grill on the porch outside the kitchen door. By the time they’d consumed the steak, salad, and a good portion of the wine, he was feeling mellow—and amorous.

  Would he be able to kiss her again tonight? It was probably still too soon. He wasn’t sure yet where this relationship was headed, but he didn’t want to knock it off-track again.

  Although he was certain she felt the sexual tension between them as strongly as he did, he wasn’t going to make a move until she gave him some unmistakable signals that she was ready for more.

  But he also wasn’t sure he’d be able to drink any more wine with her tantalizing presence so close to him and still be able to keep his hands off her.

  Until the perfect solution occurred.

  As they cleaned up the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, he said, “It’s Friday night. Why don’t we have some fun?”

  About to place a platter in the machine, she halted and gazed up at him, looking apprehensive. “I don’t do ‘fun.’”

  He laughed. “Come on, lighten up! You’ve worked hard for days and days, and with a ranch to run you’ll work hard again tomorrow. You need to have some time off to just kick back and enjoy life.”

  “I do kick back. I read.”

  “Now that’s wild and crazy. Not that I have anything against reading, but I’ve got something more active in mind. There’s a new place just outside of town on County Road 1766 heading north toward U.S. 290, Buddy’s Bar and Boogie. One of my former high school classmates bought this old abandoned gas station and converted it into a bar and honky-tonk. Buddy always gets great country bands in to play on the weekends. Good bar snacks, great draft beer, and some Hill Country wines—just for you. Sawdust on the floor, country music crooning, some Texas two-step and line dancing. Just what you need to loosen up and let go for a change.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not much of a dancer. And I really don’t like dark, smoky places.”

  From the troubled look on her face, he figured that her ex-boyfriend must have dragged her to a few and the memories weren’t good.

  “It’s not smoky—the town passed an ordinance not long ago banning smoking in all public places. And it’s not dark. LED lights hung over the stage and around the room, can lighting—it’s . . . cheerful,” he coaxed. “Not to be vain, but I’m a great dancer. I’ll show you how. And I promise not to step on your toes if you promise not to step on mine.”

  That drew a reluctant smile. “I’m not sure I could promise that.”

  “Come on, indulge me. Haven’t I been a good soldier, working hard for you all week, boss?”

  Sighing, she nodded. “Yes. You’ve been a terrific help, and I couldn’t have managed without you.”

  “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” Enough to kiss me again like you did a week ago, if I’m lucky, he thought.

  He waited, pretty sure he could cajole her into agreeing, but not really wanting to press her any further.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “But I’ll drive my own car, so I can leave when I want. And so you won’t have to drive me home after.”

  “It’s no trouble to drive you home.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll probably want to leave before you will.”

  It wasn’t everything he’d wanted, but he’d take it.

  “Great. It’s very casual—you’ll be fine in those jeans and a shirt. I’ll run back to the Triple A, get some clean jeans for myself, and meet you outside Buddy’s. In, say, half an hour?”

  She nodded. “Half an hour.”

  Buoyed with anticipation, he headed for the door. Before he walked out, he turned back. “You won’t stand me up now, will you? It would break my heart.”

  “Can your heart be broken? But no, I said I’d come and I will.”

  “See you there then.”

  Oh, baby, he thought as he jogged back to his truck. He was going to love showing her how to line dance and two-step. But what really had him excited was the thought
of being able to pull her close in a slow dance while the singer crooned “Longer.”

  Not since he’d made his peace with losing Julie Ann had he so looked forward to having a woman in his arms. Ignoring the little warning in his head that getting closer to Harrison might cause problems over the ranch down the road, he put the truck in gear and headed for home.

  Chapter Seven

  An hour later, Duncan sat at the bar at Buddy’s sipping a draft beer, Harrison perched on the barstool beside him while she carried on an animated conversation with the owner about the varieties, characteristics, and strengths of the wines produced by Hill Country wineries. Though she’d been so apprehensive when he met her in the parking lot, he’d almost relented and offered to drive her home, he was glad now that he’d held firm and coaxed her to come in.

  He shook his head, marveling at the transformation that occurred when she was engaged by something that fired her interest. Her pale face took on color, her eyes sparkled, and her whole body vibrated with animation.

  It not only intrigued him—it aroused him.

  Not that it required much for her to arouse him. Although when he’d first met her, he’d been surprised by the physical reaction she evoked, he realized that his body had known better than his brain. The quiet, seemingly withdrawn and reserved woman could turn in a moment from forgettable and bland to fiery and dynamic.

  A fiery, dynamic woman he wanted to dance with. Though he was eager to swing her into a two-step, with her—and Buddy—so absorbed by their conversation, he was content to wait until the band played a slow dance. At which time, he intended to drag her onto the floor, conversation finished or not.

  Fortunately, another customer came over, waving to catch the proprietor’s attention. “Sorry, Harrison, I’ve got to go,” Buddy said. “It’s been great to discuss wine with someone who really knows it and enjoys it. You should come in some afternoon so we can continue the discussion. You’re so knowledgeable, I might need to hire you to oversee the wine list.”