The Rancher & Heart of Stone

by Diana Palmer

  She stared at him as if she’d won the lottery. “Me?”

  “You.” He smiled. “I’ll buy you lunch on the way. I know this little tearoom off the beaten path. We can have high tea and buttermilk pie.”

  She caught her breath. “I used to hear my mother talk about that one. I’ve never had high tea. I’m not even sure what it is, exactly.”

  “Come with me and find out.”

  She grinned. “Okay! Just let me wash up first.”

  “Take your time. I’m not in any hurry.”

  “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  She almost ran up the staircase to her room.

  Cort picked up one of the delicate little fairies and stared at it with utter fascination. It was ethereal, beautiful, stunning. He’d seen such things before, but never anything so small with such personality. The little fairy had short blond hair, like Maddie’s, and pale eyes. It amused him that she could paint something so tiny. He noted the magnifying glass standing on the table, and realized that she must use it for the more detailed work. Still, it was like magic, making something so small look so realistic.

  He put it down, very carefully, and went into the kitchen to talk to Sadie while he waited for Maddie to get ready.

  “Those little fairies she makes are amazing,” he commented, lounging against the counter.

  Sadie smiled at him. “They really are. I don’t know how she does all that tiny detailed work without going blind. The little faces are so realistic. She has a gift.”

  “She does. I wish she’d do something with it.”

  “Me, too,” Sadie replied. “But she doesn’t want to sell her babies, as she calls them.”

  “She’s sitting on a gold mine here.” Cort sighed. “You know, breeding herd sires is hard work, even for people who’ve done it for generations and love it.”

  She glanced at him and she looked worried. “I know. She doesn’t really want to do it. My nephew had to toss her in at the deep end when he knew his cancer was fatal.” She shook her head. “I hate it for her. You shouldn’t be locked into a job you don’t want to do. But she’s had no training. She really can’t do anything else.”

  “She can paint. And she can sculpt.”

  “Yes, but there’s still the ranch,” Sadie emphasized.

  “Any problem has a solution. It’s just a question of finding it.” He sighed. “Ben said you’d had another cow go missing.”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “Odd thing, too, she was in a pasture with several other cows, all of them healthier than her. I can’t think somebody would steal her.”

  “I know what you mean. They do wander off. It’s just that it looks suspicious, having two go missing in the same month.”

  “Could it be that developer man?”

  Cort shook his head. “I wouldn’t think so. We’ve got armed patrols and cameras mounted everywhere. If anything like that was going on, we’d see it.”

  “I suppose so.”

  There was the clatter of footsteps almost leaping down the staircase.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” Maddie said, breathless. She was wearing jeans and boots and a pretty pink button-up blouse. She looked radiant.

  “Where are you off to?” Sadie asked, laughing.

  “I’m going to Jacobsville with Cort to look at livestock.”

  “Oh.” Sadie forced a smile. “Well, have fun, then.”

  Cort started the sleek two-seater Jaguar. He glanced at Maddie, who was looking at everything with utter fascination.

  “Not quite like your little Volkswagen, huh?” he teased.

  “No! It’s like a spaceship or something.”

  “Watch this.”

  As he started the car, the air vents suddenly opened up and the Jaguar symbol lit up on a touch screen between the steering wheel and the glove compartment. At the same time, the gearshift rose up from the console, where it had been lying flat.

  “Oh, gosh!” she exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”

  He chuckled. “I like high-tech gadgets.”

  “John has one of these,” she recalled.

  His eyes narrowed. “So he does. I rode him around in mine and he found a dealership the next day. His is more sedate.”

  “I just think they’re incredible.”

  He smiled. “Fasten your seat belt.”

  “Oops, sorry, wasn’t thinking.” She reached up and drew it between her breasts, to fasten it beside her hip.

  “I always wear my seat belt,” he said. “Dad refused to drive the car until we were all strapped in. He was in a wreck once. He said he never forgot that he’d be dead except for the seat belt.”

  “My dad wasn’t in a wreck, but he was always careful about them, too.” She put her strappy purse on the floorboard. “Did Odalie come home?” she asked, trying not to sound too interested.

  “Not yet,” he said. He had to hide a smile, because the question lacked any subtlety.

  “Oh.”

  He was beginning to realize that Odalie had been a major infatuation for him. Someone unreachable that he’d dreamed about, much as young boys dreamed about movie stars. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he and Odalie were as different as night and day. She wanted an operatic career and wasn’t interested in fitting him into that picture. Would he be forever hanging around opera houses where she performed, carrying bags and organizing fans? Or would he be in Texas, waiting for her rare visits? She couldn’t have a family and be a performer, not in the early stages of her career, maybe never. Cort wanted a family. He wanted children.

  Funny, he’d never thought of himself as a parent before. But when he’d listened to Maddie talk about her little fairy sculptures and spoke of them as her children, he’d pictured her with a baby in her arms. It had shocked him how much he wanted to see that for real.

  “You like kids, don’t you?” he asked suddenly.

  “What brought that on?” She laughed.

  “What you said, about your little fairy sculptures. They’re beautiful kids.”

  “Thanks.” She looked out the window at the dry, parched grasslands they were passing through. “Yes, I love kids. Oh, Cort, look at the poor corn crops! That’s old Mr. Raines’s land, isn’t it?” she added. “He’s already holding on to his place by his fingernails I guess he’ll have to sell if it doesn’t rain.”

  “My sister said they’re having the same issues up in Wyoming.” He glanced at her. “Her husband knows a medicine man from one of the plains tribes. She said that he actually did make it rain a few times. Nobody understands how, and most people think it’s fake, but I wonder.”

  “Ben was talking about a Cheyenne medicine man who can make rain. He’s friends with him. I’ve known people who could douse for water,” she said.

  “Now, there’s a rare talent indeed,” he commented. He pursed his lips. “Can’t Ben do that?”

  “Shh,” she said, laughing. “He doesn’t want people to think he’s odd, so he doesn’t want us to tell anybody.”

  “Still, you might ask him to go see if he could find water. If he does, we could send a well-borer over to do the job for him.”

  She looked at him with new eyes. “That’s really nice of you.”

  He shrugged. “I’m nice enough. From time to time.” He glanced at her pointedly. “When women aren’t driving me to drink.”

  “What? I didn’t drive you to drink!”

  “The hell you didn’t,” he mused, his eyes on the road so that he missed her blush. “Dancing with John Everett. Fancy dancing. Latin dancing.” He sighed. “I can’t even do a waltz.”

  “Oh, but that doesn’t matter,” she faltered, trying to deal with the fact that he was jealous. Was he? That was how it sounded! “I mean, I think you dance very nicely.”

  “I said some crude things to you,” he said heavily. “I’m really sorry. I don’t drink, you see. When I do...” He let the sentence trail off. “Anyway, I apologize.”

  “You already apologized.”

  �
��Yes, but it weighs on my conscience.” He stopped at a traffic light. He glanced at her with dark, soft eyes. “John’s my friend. I think a lot of him. But I don’t like him taking you out on dates and hanging around you.”

  She went beet-red. She didn’t even know what to say.

  “I thought it might come as a shock,” he said softly. He reached a big hand across the console and caught hers in it. He linked her fingers with his and looked into her eyes while he waited for the lights to change. “I thought we might take in a movie Friday night. There’s that new Batman one.”

  “There’s that new Ice Age one,” she said at the same time.

  He gave her a long, amused look. “You like cartoon movies?”

  She flushed. “Well...”

  He burst out laughing. “So do I. Dad thinks I’m nuts.”

  “Oh, I don’t!”

  His fingers contracted around hers. “Well, in that case, we’ll see the Ice Age one.”

  “Great!”

  The light changed and he drove on. But he didn’t let go of her hand.

  High tea was amazing! There were several kinds of tea, china cups and saucers to contain it, and little cucumber sandwiches, chicken salad sandwiches, little cakes and other nibbles. Maddie had never seen anything like it. The tearoom was full, too, with tourists almost overflowing out of the building, which also housed an antique shop.

  “This is awesome!” she exclaimed as she sampled one thing after another.

  “Why, thank you.” The owner laughed, pausing by their table. “We hoped it would be a success.” She shook her head. “Everybody thought we were crazy. We’re from Charleston, South Carolina. We came out here when my husband was stationed in the air force base at San Antonio, and stayed. We’d seen another tearoom, way north, almost in Dallas, and we were so impressed with it that we thought we might try one of our own. Neither of us knew a thing about restaurants, but we learned, with help from our staff.” She shook her head. “Never dreamed we’d have this kind of success,” she added, looking around. “It’s quite a dream come true.”

  “That cameo,” Maddie said hesitantly, nodding toward a display case close by. “Does it have a story?”

  “A sad one. The lady who owned it said it was handed down in her family for five generations. Finally there was nobody to leave it to. She fell on hard times and asked me to sell it for her.” She sighed. “She died a month ago.” She opened the case with a key and pulled out the cameo, handing it to Maddie. It was black lacquer with a beautiful black-haired Spanish lady painted on it. She had laughing black eyes and a sweet smile. “She was so beautiful.”

  “It was the great-great-grandmother of the owner. They said a visiting artist made it and gave it to her. She and her husband owned a huge ranch, from one of those Spanish land grants. Pity there’s nobody to keep the legend going.”

  “Oh, but there is.” Cort took it from the woman and handed it to Maddie. “Put it on the tab, if you will,” he told the owner. “I can’t think of anyone who’ll take better care of her.”

  “No, you can’t,” Maddie protested, because she saw the price tag.

  “I can,” Cort said firmly. “It was a family legacy. It still is.” His dark eyes stared meaningfully into hers. “It can be handed down, to your own children. You might have a daughter who’d love it one day.”

  Maddie’s heart ran wild. She looked into Cort’s dark eyes and couldn’t turn away.

  “I’ll put the ticket with lunch,” the owner said with a soft laugh. “I’m glad she’ll have a home,” she added gently.

  “Can you write down the woman’s name who sold it to you?” Maddie asked. “I want to remember her, too.”

  “That I can. How about some buttermilk pie? It’s the house specialty,” she added with a grin.

  “I’d love some.”

  “Me, too,” Cort said.

  Maddie touched the beautiful cheek of the cameo’s subject. “I should sculpt a fairy who looks like her.”

  “Yes, you should,” Cort agreed at once. “And show it with the cameo.”

  She nodded. “How sad,” she said, “to be the last of your family.”

  “I can almost guarantee that you won’t be the last of yours,” he said in a breathlessly tender tone.

  She looked up into his face and her whole heart was in her eyes.

  He had to fight his first impulse, which was to drag her across the table into his arms and kiss the breath out of her.

  She saw that hunger in him and was fascinated that she seemed to have inspired it. He’d said that she was plain and uninteresting. But he was looking at her as if he thought her the most beautiful woman on earth.

  “Dangerous,” he teased softly, “looking at me like that in a public place.”

  “Huh?” She caught her breath as she realized what he was saying. She laughed nervously, put the beautiful cameo beside her plate and smiled at him. “Thank you, for the cameo.”

  “My pleasure. Eat up. We’ve still got a long drive ahead of us!”

  Jacobsville, Texas, was a place Maddie had heard of all her life, but she’d never seen it before. In the town square, there was a towering statue of Big John Jacobs, the founder of Jacobsville, for whom Jacobs County was named. Legend had it that he came to Texas from Georgia after the Civil War, with a wagonload of black sharecroppers. He also had a couple of Comanche men who helped him on the ranch. It was a fascinating story, how he’d married the spunky but not so pretty daughter of a multimillionaire and started a dynasty in Texas.

  Maddie shared the history with Cort as they drove down a long dirt road to the ranch, which was owned by Cy Parks. He was an odd sort of person, very reticent, with jet-black hair sprinkled with silver and piercing green eyes. He favored one of his arms, and Maddie could tell that it had been badly burned at some point. His wife was a plain little blonde woman who wore glasses and obviously adored her husband. The feeling seemed to be mutual. They had two sons who were in school, Lisa explained shyly. She was sorry she couldn’t introduce them to the visitors.

  Cy Parks showed them around his ranch in a huge SUV. He stopped at one pasture and then another, grimacing at the dry grass.

  “We’re having to use up our winter hay to feed them,” he said with a sigh. “It’s going to make it a very hard winter if we have to buy extra feed to carry us through.” He glanced at Cort and laughed. “You’ll make my situation a bit easier if you want to carry a couple of my young bulls home with you.”

  Cort grinned, too. “I think I might manage that. Although we’re in the same situation you are. Even my sister’s husband, who runs purebred cattle in Wyoming, is having it rough. This drought is out of anybody’s experience. People are likening it to the famous Dust Bowl of the thirties.”

  “There was another bad drought in the fifties,” Parks added. “When we live on the land, we always have issues with weather, even in good years. This one has been a disaster, though. It will put a lot of the family farms and ranches out of business.” He made a face. “They’ll be bought up by those damned great combines, corporate ranching, I call it. Animals pumped up with drugs, genetically altered—damned shame. Pardon the language,” he added, smiling apologetically at Maddie.

  “She’s lived around cattlemen all her life,” Cort said affectionately, smiling over the back of the seat at her.

  “Yes, I have.” Maddie laughed. She looked into Cort’s dark eyes and blushed. He grinned.

  They stopped at the big barn on the way back and Cy led them through it to a stall in the rear. It connected to a huge paddock with plenty of feed and fresh water.

  “Now this is my pride and joy,” he said, indicating a sleek, exquisite young Santa Gertrudis bull.

  “That is some conformation,” Cort said, whistling. “He’s out of Red Irony, isn’t he?” he added.

  Cy chuckled. “So you read the cattle journals, do you?”

  “All of them. Your ranch has some of the best breeding stock in Texas. In the country, in fact.�
�

  “So does Skylance,” Parks replied. “I’ve bought your own bulls over the years. And your father’s,” he added to Maddie. “Good stock.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Same here,” Cort replied. He drew in a breath. “Well, if this little fellow’s up for bids, I’ll put ours in.”

  “No bids. He’s yours if you want him.” He named a price that made Maddie feel faint, but Cort just smiled.

  “Done,” he said, and they shook hands.

  On the way back home, Maddie was still astonished at the price. “That’s a fortune,” she exclaimed.

  “Worth every penny, though,” Cort assured her. “Healthy genetics make healthy progeny. We have to put new bulls on our cows every couple of years to avoid any defects. Too much inbreeding can be dangerous to the cattle and disastrous for us.”

  “I guess so. Mr. Parks seems like a very nice man,” she mused.

  He chuckled. “You don’t know his history, do you? He led one of the most respected groups of mercenaries in the world into small wars overseas. His friend Eb Scott still runs a world-class counterterrorism school on his ranch. He was part of the merc group, along with a couple of other citizens of Jacobsville.”

  “I didn’t know!”

  “He’s a good guy. Dad’s known him for years.”

  “What a dangerous way to make a living, though.”

  “No more dangerous than dealing with livestock,” Cort returned.

  That was true. There were many pitfalls of working with cattle, the least of which was broken bones. Concussions could be, and sometimes were, fatal. You could drown in a river or be trampled...the list went on and on.

  “You’re very thoughtful,” Cort remarked.

  She smiled. “I was just thinking.”

  “Me, too.” He turned off onto a side road that led to a park. “I want to stretch my legs for a bit. You game?”

  “Of course.”

  He pulled into the car park and led the way down a small bank to the nearby river. The water level was down, but flowing beautifully over mossy rocks, with mesquite trees drooping a little in the heat, but still pretty enough to catch the eye.