by Kim Redford
Shane chuckled, not putting anything past Jack. Everybody knew he had a way with the ladies. He always had and he always would.
“Like I said, I’ve got to get back on the air. As long as there’s a KWCB, Wildcat Jack won’t let down his listeners.” He gave a smart salute that he’d obviously learned in the military, did an about-face, and exited the spring.
Quiet descended again, broken only by the sound of trickling water. A slight breeze kicked up, causing the few remaining leaves of winter to rustle against the stonework as a reminder that while the warmth of spring was coming on strong, the cold of winter was still waiting in the wings to grab it back.
Shane couldn’t help but wonder if Eden had brought spring with her or if she was wrapped in the last of winter. From where he stood, he was definitely getting a blast of winter’s chill from her when he wanted summer’s heat.
“If you think I’m going to change my mind, you’re mistaken,” Eden said, breaking the silence in a breathy voice. “Against all odds, our grandfathers built the Wildcat Den. How can you even think of destroying it?”
“Things change. Time moves on.” He felt like the worst sort of insensitive lout when he said those words, but they were basically true. Even if she didn’t want to hear it, she needed a reality check. Those heady high school days when responsibility was on somebody else’s shoulders were long gone.
She gave a loud, frustrated sigh as she gestured toward the station. “I know KWCB needs help, but I’m willing to work hard to update and upgrade.”
“It’ll take time and money. You got it?”
She bit her lower lip, just a small gesture, white teeth indenting soft, pink flesh, but it sent him spiraling back in time. He’d almost forgotten how she used to do that when she was stymied by life. He wanted to ease her tension in the best way possible by replacing bad memories with good ones. He’d done just that when they were young. Why couldn’t he do it now? Why couldn’t they take up where they’d left off—not only from after the prom, but from when Jack had interrupted them? He took a step toward her.
Eden held up a hand to deter him. “KWCB’s lease doesn’t run out for a bit. I can use that time to rebuild the station.”
He hated to see her rejection of him, hated for them to be at an impasse. Still, he stopped and stood steady as he tried to think of some way to persuade her to understand his position. He wasn’t against her. He was against his situation. “I’m worried about my herds. We ought to be getting rain by now, but we’re not.”
“I’m sure the Rocky T has weathered lots of droughts. What is the difference this time?”
He glanced past her at the golden stubble of his dry pasture. He hadn’t meant to get into the details so soon, but maybe it’d help if she knew the lay of the land, at least from his viewpoint. “When I said things change, I really meant it.”
“If anybody knows how fast things can change, it’s me.” She followed his gaze outside, as if distancing herself from her own words or desperately wanting separation from her past or maybe just trying to see what he was looking at out there.
“Look, I don’t want change any more than you do. I want life the way it was, particularly now that you’re back.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lazy Q Ranch. You remember it, don’t you?”
She nodded, glancing in the direction of that land. “Mr. and Mrs. Simpson owned the ranch next door. She made the best chocolate chip cookies.”
Shane nodded in agreement, fondly remembering they’d once shared that special treat.
“How are they doing?”
“They’re gone.”
“What? Where?”
“They decided to sell the ranch while they were still young enough to kick up their heels and visit places they’d only seen in travelogues.”
“I can’t imagine they’d want to leave the county.”
“They didn’t—not entirely. They bought into a new town house development south of Wildcat Bluff that offers easy maintenance and security while they’re out seeing the world.”
“But what about the Lazy Q?” She turned her back completely on the spring and focused on him.
“That’s the big change.”
“Did you buy their ranch?”
“I wish, but I couldn’t afford it.”
“Did another local rancher?”
“Nope.”
She put a hand over her heart. “Please tell me a Dallas or Houston developer didn’t buy the Lazy Q with plans to divide it into five-acre ranchettes?”
He chuckled without much mirth as he shook his head. “So far, they seem to be focused on the Hill Country, but with the way folks are pouring into Texas, that could change any moment.”
“When I flew in, Dallas looked a lot like LA, spreading out in all directions.”
“Folks need to live somewhere once they get here.”
“True. But what about the ranch?”
“You ever hear about the Tarleton outfit in East Texas?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Oil, gas, and cattle?”
“Right.”
“What about them?”
“You know Old Man Tarleton struck it rich with black gold in the thirties. Frank Lloyd Wright designed and built them a fancy mansion. They haven’t let any grass grow under their feet since then. A daughter branched out into western wear—Lulabelle & You.”
“Great line of western clothes. I remember promoting it on my show. Impressive family.”
“Yeah. But not so much when the outfit moves in next door.” He rubbed his chin, already feeling the beginnings of stubble. The prickly feeling reminded him of the Tarleton business expanding into Wildcat Bluff County.
“Are you telling me Lulabelle & You bought the Lazy Q?”
“Might as well have done it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Guess what I’m trying to say in a roundabout way is that the Tarleton family bought it.”
“Well, that’s interesting. It could be good for the area.”
“Maybe. But not for us.” He knew he was drawing out telling her what was going on, but he hated to tell her and hated to say it.
“Okay. Spill. Are they all hat and no cattle, or—”
“I haven’t met a single one of them. So far, I’m not too fond of Kemp Lander, their ranch foreman.”
“I suppose they’ve got a lot of irons in the fire.”
“The Lazy Q may be small potatoes to them. My trouble is that I’d been leasing a big, deep pond that never runs dry from the Simpsons, after they didn’t need it.” He felt the irritation well up in him like it had for months, but he did his best to control a feeling that did him no good.
“And?” She took a step away from the spring toward him, as if physically mirroring his agitation.
“Lander had a fence put up that cut my cattle off from the water source.”
“What about your water lease?”
“I never signed one with the Simpsons. Didn’t need it.”
“Oh, Shane.” She ran a hand through her hair as she covered the distance to him. “No warning, so you could make other plans?”
“No nothing. Just the fence.”
“I guess you talked to him about it.”
“Stone cold nothing.”
“I see your problem. And why you’re looking at Wildcat Spring.” She reached out to him, then quickly dropped her hand to her side as if reconsidering her reaction.
“No choice. I’m between a rock and hard place.” He wanted to touch her, wrap her in his arms as much for her comfort as for his own, but he doubted she’d take kindly to it. Women tended to deal with issues by talking them out, while men needed physical action.
“That’s not all of it, is it?”
“You still know me, don’t you?”
He captured her hand with his own, basking in the warmth and softness of her touch. He took a long breath to still the gnawing need to crush her to him—and hang on forever.
“We shared our troubles when we were young.”
“I’ve sustained a few grass fires. Drought makes them worse. So far, I’ve caught the blazes in time, but there’s always the chance I won’t be there next time.”
“Brush fires are normal around here, aren’t they?”
“Right. But not too often. And nobody else is getting them.”
She rubbed her fingertips against his shirt, digging in a little as she gazed thoughtfully at him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m beginning to think Lander, representing the Tarleton family or on his own, is trying to cripple my ranch.”
She shivered, shaking her head in horror. “Surely not.”
“It’d make sense if they wanted to buy the Rocky T at a fire-sale price.”
“They’d have the biggest spread in the county then, wouldn’t they?”
“Right. And lots of power to go with it.”
“I hate even the idea of this news.” She reached up and twined her hands around his neck.
He didn’t care if he was getting a sympathy hug instead of a romantic hug. He simply put his arms around her and drew her close, closing the gap between them till they were pressed body to body, heat to heat, need to need. He caught her scent—somewhere between sweet and tangy—and it transported him right back to that special night.
And then she broke the spell she’d woven around him by pushing away, stepping back, and giving him a considering look. “I wish things were different. I wish I hadn’t just had a man manipulate me for all kinds of needy sympathy. I wish I hadn’t fallen for all his clever words.”
“I’m not asking for your sympathy.” He felt his heart sink. She was protective of herself, and he couldn’t blame her. She’d been through a lot of heartache. Now, she wanted the security, familiarity, and continuity of the Wildcat Den. He wished he could give it to her, but he couldn’t.
“Maybe not,” she said in a low, raw tone. “But you’re asking for Wildcat Spring. And I need it.”
“I need it, too.” Now was the time to lay his ace on the table, even though it’d seal his fate with her. “And I own the land.”
Chapter 6
Eden felt as if Shane had tossed her into a cattle trough full of ice water. She shivered as she stepped farther back, wanting to put distance between them so she could think clearly. Okay, he had a problem. Okay, she had a problem. Okay, they both had a problem—the same problem. Water. Or more exactly, the lack of it. Unfortunately, they were standing on either side of a situation that should have brought them together, instead of tearing them apart. Maybe they could yet come up with a solution that would benefit them both.
She slowly retreated until she felt the spring basin behind her. She reached back and stroked the rough cement with one hand, drawing strength and determination from it. She couldn’t let another man take away something she held dear.
She looked at him standing there—so tall, so strong, so much the boy that she’d once thought she’d loved with all her heart turned into a man. Maybe she didn’t know him anymore or maybe she’d never really known him, but she felt the loss of her dream-Shane in a way she’d never felt the loss of Graham. Surprised at her own reaction, she thrust down her fantasy feeling for the reality of her situation.
“I’d like you to leave now.” She’d wanted her words to come out strong, but they didn’t. She sounded weak to her own ears, when, a short time ago, she’d gloried in the fact that her voice was stronger again. Maybe he had influenced her more than she’d realized, not only about the spring but about her voice as well. Not a happy realization. She’d let Graham influence her far too much. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Eden, it doesn’t have to be this way.” Shane reached out to her. “I’ll help you any way I can. We can move the station, if that’s what you want, or—”
“I understand,” she whispered, protecting her voice now just like she was protecting her emotions. “But I’d like to be alone to consider my options.”
“Like I said, you can stay at my place. I’m not sure you’re safe here.”
“I’ve always been safe here.” She heard her voice grow stronger as she emphasized her point. “It’s my home.”
He rubbed his neck, as if developing a crick from her words. “I’m just up the hill in case you need me.”
“I won’t need you.”
“Please don’t let this water situation come between us. Nothing changes till the lease runs out. Unless—”
“Unless what?”
“I could buy out the lease, then you wouldn’t have the expense or trouble. And you’d have funds to start over.”
She felt her determination harden. “I just got back. I’m not ready to make any type of decision.”
“Just ideas to help us both out.” He held up his hands as if in surrender or to placate her.
“Please go.”
“When will I see you again?” He stepped under an archway, becoming a dark shape silhouetted by sunlight again. “I could bring barbecue or one of Slade’s pies.”
“Don’t you get it?” she said in a ragged voice. “I want to be alone.”
He braced the flat of his hand against smooth stone as he leaned toward her. “You can’t blame me for the water shortage. I’m doing the best I can for my herds.”
“Will you just go?”
“Blame the Tarleton family. Not me.”
“I don’t blame you. I truly don’t.” She desperately needed to be alone because she didn’t know how much longer she could keep holding up her wall.
“Thanks. I guess we both need time to figure out how we go forward.” He hesitated, thinking through the situation. “I’ll make a run to the Chuckwagon tomorrow and bring you something. After Jack goes home, put a chair under the front doorknob and the back doorknob. Fact of the matter is, I’d better put locks on all the doors, so I’ll know you’re safe.”
“We’ve never needed locks. I don’t want to start now.”
He just shook his head. “At least you’ll bar your doors, right?”
She saw his concern, felt his concern, understood his concern, but she’d been so long without someone caring about her safety that she had to find her way to the realization he needed reassurance. “Okay. But I’m safe here.”
“If you need me—anytime—I’m nearby.” And then he was gone with long strides down the stone path toward his pickup.
She took a deep breath of mineral-scented air, drawing peace and security and happiness from the past into the present. Shane was as steadfast as ever, not only to her but to his ranch. She was the one who had changed in the years they’d been apart, and yet nothing had dimmed her love of home.
She stepped out of the gazebo, moving from concealing shadow into illuminating light, as if she were leaving the darkness of LA for the brightness of Wildcat Bluff County.
She glanced at the beauty around her as the sun lowered in the west. A slight breeze sent a row of yellow daffodils gently nodding in her direction. The pretty flowers were always a happy portent of spring, particularly since these had struggled out of an overgrown flower bed that had once been her mother’s pride and joy. She felt her heart lift at the sight. Somehow, someway, she couldn’t let the radio station that was a tribute to her family fritter away to nothing. And that meant fighting Shane—or helping him. Maybe both.
For now, it was time to check in at the Den. Radio was her thing, even if her voice wasn’t back to normal. She heard a flutter of wings in the weeping willow and glanced upward. A blue-and-gray mockingbird clutched a limb while cocking hi
s head to look at her with one eye, then turned his head to study her with the other eye. Seemingly satisfied with his audience, he opened his beak and filled the air with a wide repertoire of sounds picked up from here and there.
Eden smiled. She was so attuned to sound that she caught the nuances of the bird’s wonderful song. Oh yes, she was an appreciative audience, and the mockingbird encouraged her to get back in the saddle and create a bigger audience for the Wildcat Den.
Soon, he completed his song and flew away to serenade other listeners. She clapped her thanks, then followed the stone path to the front door of the radio station. Now or never.
She opened the door and stepped into the building that had been gutted and divided into two sections long ago. First, she noticed the smell of stale coffee, cigarettes, and old paper. Next, she saw the hazy, golden light of two nicotine-coated milk-glass light fixtures.
Reception housed a battered wood schoolteacher’s desk, an office chair on squeaky rollers, four dented metal file cabinets, a lumpy sofa, and two visitors’ chairs with faded red vinyl seats patched with silver duct tape. On the dusty, yellowed acoustic-tiled walls hung out-of-date Loretta Lynn and Hank Williams posters and a curly-edged bank calendar/football schedule from the eighties. Near the desk, a big black typewriter with a black-and-red ribbon stood on a rusty metal stand as if sentinel to a bygone era. It was manual, not electric. She didn’t know where Jack kept finding ribbons to keep the typewriter going, but maybe he had a cache from the sixties. At least she had her laptop that could be put to immediate use.
Jack had placed her purse and grocery sack squarely in the middle of the desk on top of a pile of paper that looked to be everything from contracts to mail to Chuckwagon takeout sacks. Dust coated every available surface. Light tried to break through a grime-encrusted window but gave up about halfway into the room. She knew there had once been drapes on the window, but now everything appeared to be stripped to bare bones. She hadn’t checked the bathroom with the closed door on one end of the room, but she really didn’t want to go in there yet.
