Then spring arrived and the ranch became a madhouse. Tess had to learn to answer the extension phone in the living room while the two secretaries in the separate office complex started processing calving information into the brothers' huge mainframe computer. The sheer volume of it was shocking to Tess, who'd spent her whole life
on ranches.
The only modern idea, besides the computers, that the brothers had adapted to their operation was the implantation of computer chips under the skin of the individual cattle. This was not only to identify them with a handheld computer, but also to tag them in case of rustling—a sad practice that had continued unabashed into the computer age.
On the Hart ranch, there were no hormone implants, no artificial insemination, no unnecessary antibiotics or pesticides. The brothers didn't even use pesticides on their crops, having found ways to encourage the development of superior strains of forage and the survival of good insects that kept away the bad ones. It was all very ecological and fascinating, and it was even profitable. One of the local ranchers, J. D. Langley, worked hand in glove with them on these renegade methods. They shared ideas and investment strategies and went together as a solid front to cattlemen's meetings. Tess found J. D. "Donavan" Langley intimidating, but his wife and nephew had softened him, or so people said. She shuddered to think how he'd been before he mellowed.
The volume of business the brothers did was overwhelming. The telephone rang constantly. So did the fax machine. Tess was press-ganged into learning how to operate that, and the computer, so that she could help send and receive urgent e-mail messages to various beef producers and feedlots and buyers.
"But I'm not trained!" she wailed to Leo and Rey. They only grinned. "There, there, you're doing a fine job," Leo told her encouragingly.
"But I won't have time to cook proper meals," she continued.
“As long as we have enough biscuits and strawberry preserves and apple butter, that's no problem at all," Rey assured her. "And if things get too hectic, we'll order out."
They did, frequently, in the coming weeks. One night two pizza delivery trucks drove up and unloaded enough pizzas for the entire secretarial and sales staff and the cowboys, not to mention the brothers. They worked long hours and they were demanding bosses, but they never forgot the loyalty and sacrifice of the people who worked for them. They paid good wages, too.
"Why don't you ever spend any money on yourself?" Leo asked Tess one night when, bleary-eyed from the computer, she was ready to go to bed.
"What?"
"You're wearing the same clothes you had last year," he said pointedly. "Don't you want some new jeans, at least, and some new tops?"
"I hadn't thought about it," she confessed. "I've just been putting my wages into the bank and forgetting about them. I suppose I should go shopping."
"Yes, you should." He leaned down toward her. "The very minute we get caught up!"
She groaned. "We'll never get caught up! I heard old Fred saying that he'd had to learn how to use a handheld computer so he could scan the cattle in the low pasture, and he was almost in tears."
"We hired more help," he stated.
"Yes, but there was more work after that! It's never going to end," she wailed. "If those stupid cows don't stop having calves...!"
"Bite your tongue, woman, that's profit you're scoffing at!"
"I know, but—"
"We're all tired," he assured her. "And any day now, it's going to slack off. We're doing compilation figures for five ranches, you know," he added. "It isn't just this one. We have to record each . new calf along with its history, we have to revise lists for cattle that have died or been culled, cattle that we traded, new cattle that we've bought. Besides that, we have to have birth weights, weight gain ratios, average daily weight gain and feeding data. All that information has to be kept current or it's no use to us."
"I know. But we'll all get sick of pizzas and I'll forget how to make biscuits!"
"God forbid," he said, taking off his hat and holding it to his heart.
She was too tired to laugh, but she did smile. She worked her way down the long hall toward her room over the garage, feeling as drained as she looked.
She met Cag coming from the general direction of the garage, dressed in a neat gray suit with a subdued burgundy tie and a cream-colored Stetson. He was just back from a trustee meeting in Dallas, and he looked expensive and sophisticated and unapproachable.
She nodded in a cool greeting, and averted her eyes as she passed
him.
He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. One big, lean hand tilted her chin up. He looked at her without smiling, his dark eyes glittering with disapproval.
"What have they been doing to you?" he asked curtly.
The comment shocked her, but she didn't read anything into it. Cag would never be concerned about her and she knew it. "We're all putting herd records into the computer, even old Fred," she said wearily. "We're tired."
"Yes, I know. It's a nightmare every year about this time. Are you getting enough sleep?"
She nodded. "I don't know much about computers and it's hard, that's all. I don't mind the work."
His hand hesitated for just an instant before he dropped it. He looked tougher than ever. "You'll be back to your old duties in no time. God forbid that we should drag you kicking and screaming out of the kitchen and into the twentieth century."
That was sarcastic, and she wished she had enough energy to hit him. He was always mocking her, picking at her.
"You haven't complained about the biscuits yet," she reminded him curtly.
His black eyes swept over her disparagingly. "You look about ten," he chided. "All big eyes. And you wear that damned rig or those black jeans and that pink shirt all the time. Don't you have any clothes?"
She couldn't believe her ears. First the brothers had talked about her lack of new clothes, and now he was going to harp on it! "Now, look here, you can't tell me what to wear!"
"If you want to get married, you'll never manage it like that," he scoffed. "No man is going to look twice at a woman who can't be bothered to even brush her hair!"
She actually gasped. She hadn't expected a frontal attack when he'd just walked in the door. "Well, excuse me!" she snapped, well aware that her curly head was untidy. She put a hand to it defensively. "I haven't had time to brush my hair. I've been too busy listing what bull sired what calf!"
He searched over her wan face and he relented, just a little. “Go to bed," he said stiffly. "You look like the walking dead."
"What a nice compliment," she muttered. "Thanks awfully."
She started to walk away, but he caught her arm and pulled her back around. He reached into his pocket, took something out, and handed it to her.
It was a jewelry box, square and velvet-covered. She looked at him and he nodded toward the box, indicating that he wanted her to open it.
She began to, with shaking hands. It was unexpected that he should
buy her anything. She lifted the lid to find that there, nestled on a bed of gray satin, was a beautiful faceted sapphire pendant surrounded by tiny diamonds on a thin gold chain. She'd never seen anything so beautiful in her life. It was like a piece of summer sky caught in stone. It sparkled even in the dim shine of the security lights around the house and garage.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, shocked and touched by the unexpected gift. Then she looked up, warily, wondering if she'd been presum-tuous and it wasn't a gift at all. She held it out to him. "Oh, I see. You just wanted to show it to me..."
He closed her fingers around the box. His big hands were warm and strong. They felt nice.
"I bought it for you," he said, and looked briefly uncomfortable.
She was totally at sea, and looked it. She glanced down at the pretty thing in her hand and back up at him with a perplexed expression.
"Belated birthday present," he said gruffly, not meeting her eyes.
"But...my birthday was th
e first of March," she said, her voice terse, "and I never mentioned it."
"Never mentioned it," he agreed, searching her tired face intently. "Never had a cake, a present, even a card."
She averted her eyes.
"Hell!"
The curse, and the look on his face, surprised her.
He couldn't tell her that he felt guilty about her birthday. He hadn't even known that it had gone by until Leo told him two weeks ago. She could have had a cake and little presents, and cards. But she'd kept it to herself because of the way he'd acted about the cake she'd made for him. He knew without a word being spoken that he'd spoiled birthdays for her just as his mother had spoiled them for him. His conscience beat him to death over it. It was why he'd spent so much time away, that guilt, and it was why he'd gone into a jewelers, impulsively, when he never did anything on impulse, and bought the little necklace for her.
"Thanks," she murmured, curling her fingers around the box. But she wouldn't look at him.
There was something else, he thought, watching her posture stiffen. Something...
"What is it?" he asked abruptly.
She took a slow breath. "When do you want me to leave?" she asked bravely.
He scowled. "When do I what?"
"You said, that day I baked the cake, that I could go in the spring," she reminded him, because she'd never been able to forget. "It's spring."
He scowled more and stuck one hand into his pocket, thinking fast. “How could we do without you during roundup?'' he asked reasonably. "Stay until summer."
She felt the box against her palms, warm from his body where it had lain in his pocket. It was sort of like a link between them, even if he hadn't meant it that way. She'd never had a present from a man before, except the coat the brothers had given her. But that hadn't been personal like this. She wasn't sure how it was intended, as a sort of conscience-reliever or a genuinely warm gesture.
"We'll talk about it another time," he said after a minute. "I'm tired and I've still got things to do."
He turned and walked past her without looking back. She found herself watching him helplessly with the jewelery box held like a priceless treasure in her two hands.
As if he felt her eyes he stopped suddenly, at the back door, and only his head pivoted. His black eyes met hers in the distance between them, and it was suddenly as if lightning had struck. She felt her knees quivering under her, her heart racing. He was only looking, but she couldn't get her breath at all.
He didn't glance away, and neither did she. In that instant, she lost her heart. She felt him fight to break the contact of their eyes, and win. He moved away quickly, into the house, and she ground her teeth together at this unexpected complication.
Of all the men in the world to become infatuated with, Cag Hart was the very last she should have picked. But knowing it didn't stop the way she felt. With a weary sigh, she turned and went back toward her room. She knew she wouldn't sleep, no matter how tired she was. She linked the necklace around her neck and admired it in the mirror, worrying briefly about the expense, because she'd seen on the clasp at was 14K gold-not a trifle at all. But it would have been equally precious to her if it had been gold-tone metal, and she was sure Cag knew it. She went to sleep, wearing it.
Chapter 3
Everythmg would have been absolutely fine, except that she forgot to take the necklace off the next morning and the brothers gave her a hard time over breakfast. That, in turn, embarrassed Cag, who stomped out without his second cup of coffee, glaring at Tess as if she'd been responsible for the whole thing.
They apologized when they realized that they'd just made a bad situation worse. But as the day wore on, she wondered if she shouldn't have left the necklace in its box in her chest of drawers. It had seemed to irritate Cag that she wanted to wear it. The beautiful thing was so special that she could hardly get past mirrors. She loved just looking at it.
Her mind was so preoccupied with her present that she didn't pay close attention to the big aquarium in Cag's room when she went to make the bed. And that was a mistake. She was bending over to pull up the multicolored Navajo patterned comforter on the big four-postered bed when she heard a faint noise. The next thing she knew, she was wearing Herman the python around her neck.
The weight of the huge reptile buckled her knees. Herman weighed more than she did by about ten pounds. She screamed and wrestled, and the harder she struggled the harder an equally frightened Herman held on, certain that he was going to hit the floor bouncing if he relaxed his clinch one bit!
Leo came running, but he stopped at the doorway. No snake-lover,
he hadn't the faintest idea how to extricate their housekeeper from the scaly embrace she was being subjected to.
"Get Cag!" she squeaked, pulling at Herman's coils. "Hurry, before he eats me!"
"He won't eat you," Leo promised from a pale face. "He only eats freeze-dried dead things with fur, honest! Cag's at the corral. We were just going to ride out to the line camp. Back in a jiffy!"
Stomping feet ran down the hall. Torturous minutes later, heavier stomping feet ran back again.
Tess was kneeling with the huge reptile wrapped around her, his head arched over hers so that she looked as if she might be wearing a snaky headdress.
"Herman, for Pete's sake!" Cag raged. "How did you get out this time?"
"Could you possibly question him later, after you've got him off me?" she urged. "He weighs a ton!"
"There, there," he said gently, because he knew how frightened she was of Herman. He approached them slowly, careful not to spook his pet. He smoothed his big hand under the snake's chin and stroked him gently, soothing him as he spoke softly, all the time gently unwinding him from Tess's stooped shoulders.
When he had him completely free, he walked back to the aquarium and scowled as he peered at the lid, which was ajar.
"Maybe he's got a crowbar in there," he murmured, shifting Herman's formidable weight until he could release the other catches enough to lift the lid from the tank. "I don't know why he keeps climbing out."
“How would you like to live in a room three times your size with no playmates?" she muttered, rubbing her aching shoulders. "He's sprained both my shoulders and probably cracked part of my spine. He fell on me!"
He put Herman in the tank and locked the lid before he turned. "Fell?" He scowled. "From where?"
"There!"
She gestured toward one of the wide, tall sculptured posts' that graced his king-size bed.
He whistled. "He hasn't gone climbing in a while." He moved a little closer to her and his black eyes narrowed. "You okay?"
"I told you," she mumbled, "I've got fractured bones everywhere!"
He smiled gently. "Sore muscles, more likely." His eyes were quizzical, soft. "You weren't really scared, were you?"
She hesitated. Then she smiled back, just faintly. "Well, no, not really. I've sort of got used to him." She shrugged. "He feels nice. Like a thick silk scarf."
Cag didn't say a word. He just stood there, looking at her, with a sort of funny smile.
"I thought they were slimy."
The smile widened. “Most people do, until they touch one. Snakes are clean. They aren't generally violent unless they're provoked, or unless they're shedding or they've just eaten. Half the work is knowing when not to pick them up." He took off his hat and ran a hand through his thick hair. "I've had Herman for twelve years," he added. "He's like family, although most people don't understand that you can have affection for a snake."
She studied his hard face, remembering that his former fiancee had insisted that he get rid of Herman. Even if he loved a woman, it would be hard for him to give up a much-loved pet.
"I used to have an iguana," she said, "when I was about twelve. One of the guys at the rodeo had it with him, and he was going off to college. He asked would I like him." She smiled reminiscently. "He was green and huge, like some prehistoric creature, like a real live dragon. He liked shredd
ed squash and bananas and he'd let you hold him. When you petted him on the head he'd close his eyes and raise his chin. I had him for three years."
"What happened?"
"He just died," she said. "I never knew why. The vet said that he couldn't see a thing wrong with him, and that I'd done everything right by the book to keep him healthy. We could have had him au-topsied, but Dad didn't have the money to pay for it. He was pretty old when I got him. I like to think it was just his time, and not anything I did wrong."
"Sometimes pets do just die." He was looking at Herman, coiled
up happily in his tank and looking angelic, in his snaky fashion. "Look at him," he muttered. "Doesn't look like he's ever thought of escaping, does he?''
"I still remember when I opened up the washing machine to do clothes and found him coiled inside. I almost quit on the spot."
"You've come a long way since then," he had to admit. His eyes went to the blue and white sparkle of the necklace and he stared at it.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, wrapping her hand around it guiltily. "I never should have worn it around your brothers. But it's so lovely. It's like wearing a piece of the sky around my neck."
"I'm glad you like it," he said gruffly. "Wear it all you like. They'll find something else to harp on in a day or so."
"I didn't think they'd notice."
He cocked an eyebrow. "I haven't bought a present for a woman in almost seven years," he said shortly. "It's noteworthy around here, despite my intentions."
Her face colored. "Oh, I know it was just for my birthday," she said quickly.
"You work hard enough to deserve a treat now and again," he returned impatiently. "You're sure you're okay?"
Books By Diana Palmer Page 203
