The Texas Rancher's Return

by Allie Pleiter

  Coming up to the fence, Daisy gave an enormous snort, swiveling her huge head around to consider her small pink visitor. “Billy Flatrock, Daisy,” Gunner began the introduction even though it felt silly, “this here’s Audie.” He caught Brooke’s eye for a fraction of a second. “Daisy already met Mrs. Calder yesterday.”

  “Hi, Daisy!” Audie said brightly, much less intimidated by the wall of brown fur in front of her than her mother had been the day before. As a matter of fact, Brooke still looked a bit wary. “Mom,” Audie whispered loudly, elbowing her mother, “say hi.”

  Brooke straightened up. “Hello, Mr. Flatrock. Hello, Daisy. Congratulations to Daisy on being a mama soon.”

  “Yep. That’s really exciting.” Audie poised her thick pink pencil over her notebook like a candy-coated junior reporter. “Tell me, Daisy, do you want a boy or a girl baby bison?”

  To Gunner’s amazement, Daisy actually looked as if she was considering the question before she gave a series of low, rolling grunts. Gunner felt as though he was losing control of the situation with every passing minute.

  Audie looked right at Billy and in all seriousness asked, “What’d she say?”

  Billy took the whole thing right in stride. “Daisy had a girl bison last year, so she wants a boy this time.” When Gunner raised an “aren’t you taking this a bit far?” eyebrow, Billy added, “I think.”

  All the adults waited while Audie carefully wrote “baby boy” on her notepad. The girl then proceeded to work her way through a set of ten questions—some crazy, others downright thoughtful for someone so young. From Gran’s expression, she appeared to be growing fonder of Brooke and Audie every second. When Audie complimented Daisy on the soft new coat coming out from under the old one and her “be-yu-ti-ful” eyes, Gunner felt the cuteness factor tip over his toleration level. Suddenly, I’m a bison’s publicist. He could almost hear his father’s amused laughter echoing out across the ranch. No telling what would happen if any of the other ranch owners got even a whiff of this.

  Still, the kid was so excited, he couldn’t be entirely annoyed, even if the whole thing took twice as long as he’d planned. Brooke Calder looked at him as if he was some kind of hero, instead of just being a busy rancher who’d just gotten lassoed into the strangest social call of the year.

  When Audie finally got the “reply” to her final question, Gran pronounced it time for cookies and lemonade on the lawn. He’d clean forgotten about Gran’s social plans, and watched helplessly as another work hour of his afternoon evaporated before his eyes. He envied Billy as the man walked free and clear into the barn. The foreman offered him a smug smile, glad to be escaping the ladies’ tea party Gunner now was forced to endure.

  He gave Daisy a long last look as he stepped onto the porch behind the chattering females, and even the bison seemed to enjoy his predicament. “See what I started?” the big brown eyes seemed to say.

  Thanks for that, Gunner thought as he tucked his long legs under the picnic table and reached for a cookie.

  Chapter Four

  Jace Markham leaned back in his chair Monday morning, the Austin sunshine pouring through the many windows of his corner office at DelTex’s corporate headquarters. He smiled. “Brooke Calder, I underestimated you.”

  Brooke looked up from her agenda notes. “How’s that?”

  “I’ve been trying to work my way into Adele Buckton’s good graces for years now, and you did it in four months.”

  Brooke felt a little band of annoyance stretch under her stomach. DelTex offices weren’t exactly small, and Austin was a big city—how had word of her visit to Blue Thorn traveled so fast? “It wasn’t a professional visit, Mr. Markham.”

  Mr. Markham chuckled as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Oh, no, I heard the bit about the book report. Brilliant.”

  “Science project. And it really wasn’t anything more than that. I ran into one of their bison on my way back from picking up files at the Ramble Acres site.”

  Mr. Markham’s eyes popped. “You ran over one of their herd?”

  “No.” Brooke winced at the poor choice of words. “I met Daisy as she blocked my way across the road. Gunner Buckton came by and helped get the bison out of the road so I could get home.”

  The big man chuckled. “Well, that’s a bit easier to understand. I couldn’t quite see how you turned roadkill into a social call.” He leaned forward. “I take it you received a chilly reception?”

  “At first. And most definitely from Gunner. Gunner Junior, that is. He iced over the minute he worked out who I was. Then Audie decided to do her native Texan animals report on bison, and I didn’t see how I could let an opportunity like that get away.”

  Mr. Markham raised an eyebrow. Brooke meant an opportunity for hands-on learning for her daughter, but clearly her boss had other interpretations.

  “I had Audie call and ask to see the bison because I was sure he’d refuse me,” she continued. “Only, Audie reached Adele first, and Mrs. Buckton warmed to the idea of a visit right away—maybe because she didn’t yet know where I worked.” Brooke shifted her weight. “They don’t think very highly of DelTex. They think Ramble Acres will eventually spread to take their land.”

  The vice president took off his reading glasses. “Oh, that’s no news to me. These ranchers are passionate about their land. Most times that’s a good thing. Only, sometimes the public good clashes with that stubbornness, and forward-thinking developers like ourselves have to make unpopular proposals.”

  “I know.” It was one of the reasons Brooke had a job—sometimes the public needed education, or awareness, or just flat-out convincing that a development was good for everyone. Part of what she did at DelTex was to help local folks see past the temporary inconveniences of development and embrace the long-term advantages. Or in cases like Ramble Acres, see why some private land was going to be needed to make way for the infrastructure to support a large-scale project.

  “And that’s why we pull in the local leaders to get those proposals green-lighted. You know the song—everybody wants a highway, so long as it doesn’t cross the back forty that’s been in their family for three generations.”

  Brooke was indeed familiar with the conflict. She’d spent the past four months fine-tuning presentations for DelTex execs and the involved local politicians. Infrastructure almost always needed land, and that was a surefire recipe for public conflict. “It did end well, if that’s what you’re asking. Audie had a wonderful time, and Adele is just like I imagined her.”

  “Adele Buckton is a grand, gracious lady. She and Gunner Senior became fixtures in this part of Texas back when I was younger than you.” Mr. Markham folded his hands on his dark marble desktop. “I’ve always thought Adele would see reason much faster than Gunner Junior. That boy has his daddy’s stubborn streak, that’s for sure.”

  Brooke thought of the tall, commanding rancher she’d spent time with and found that boy nowhere near a fitting term. “I know the basics of the project, Mr. Markham, but what exactly is it you want from the Bucktons?”

  Mr. Markham stood up and motioned for Brooke to join him in front of the large map that took up most of one office wall. He ran a finger down the highway Brooke had traveled on Friday afternoon, the one where she’d met Daisy. “This is Buckton’s place.” He tapped the finger on the east side of the highway. “Over here is Paul Larkey’s ranch,” he continued, shifting his finger to the west side. “And here is Ramble Acres.” He pointed to the site of Brooke’s meeting, a large, upscale housing venture getting ready to go up northeast of both ranches. It was a multimillion-dollar development, sure to be the jewel in the DelTex crown once completed. Mr. Markham had been working on the project—which hadn’t even broken ground yet—for the better part of four years. Brooke’s presentation had dozens of bullet points about its potential positive impact on property tax revenues, scho
ols and local commerce. In fact, the push to break ground on Ramble Acres was the main reason she’d been hired.

  Mr. Markham ran his fingers down a thin blue ribbon running across all three properties. “Here is what all the fuss is about. We need access to this water system as part of the Ramble Acres drainage plan—storm-water runoff, that sort of thing. Nothing chemical or even remotely detrimental to the land, just the ability to utilize the waterway. But it’ll swell that creek with all that water once everything’s up and running, so we need Buckton to sell us the creek and the land around it.”

  “And he won’t?” The answer to that question was pretty clear.

  “Not yet. He’s not budging, even though he’s got two other water sources on his ranch, and I know he could use the money. His neighbor Larkey has already said he’d sell. Only, because Larkey is downstream of Buckton, his yes doesn’t do us any of good without Buckton’s land.”

  “Sounds like a standoff.” She could easily see that happening, given the personalities involved.

  Mr. Marhkam pushed out a breath. “When Gunner Senior died, I thought maybe we could get through to Adele. She’s the kind of woman who can grasp the bigger picture, and quite honestly, I wasn’t even sure she’d keep the ranch. It would have been too much for her to run alone, and all her grandkids had scattered.”

  Now the pieces were fitting together. “And then Gunner Junior showed up?”

  Mr. Markham picked his finger up off the map to point it at Brooke. “He’s convinced I’m out to steal his land—all of it, not just the sliver we need—and there’s been no convincing him otherwise.” The businessman looked pointedly at Brooke. “Until now, maybe. I take the fact that he let you onto the ranch as a good sign. I hope you realize you are in a unique position to do a lot of good here.”

  He wasn’t wrong in his thinking. Brooke knew that many conflicts of this nature were best solved by a series of face-to-face meetings. Arranging such meetings was a large part of what she did best for DelTex. Ideas and corporations never solved problems as well as people sitting down and talking to each other. Only such sit-downs were often hard to accomplish when one—or both—of the parties dug in their heels, the way the Bucktons had done.

  “I’d like to help, sir, but have you met that man?” She shrugged, remembering Gunner’s glaring eyes. “I doubt I can convince him of anything.”

  “Oh, don’t doubt yourself. You’ve capitalized on a bit of good fortune and done what I haven’t been able to do—gotten a conversation started. That’s always the first step. I know you know how these things work—relationships first, agreements later.” He put a hand on her shoulder, walking them back to his desk. “Do you think you can take the open door you managed to get and crack it open a tiny bit farther? Do whatever you think will keep the lines of communication open—with either Gunner or Adele. Use whatever budget or resources you need, and fend some of the grunt work off to other staffers if you need to free up your time. Help us reach this goal, Brooke, and you’ll have proven yourself an invaluable asset to DelTex.”

  Up until this morning, Brooke hadn’t felt very important at DelTex—just another junior staff member trying to make a name for herself. Now Jace Markham was looking at her as if she had the makings of a key player. His regard kindled a glow of satisfaction Brooke hadn’t felt in a long time.

  In the two years since Jim’s death, Brooke had always felt as though she was just getting by, just eking out an existence. Maybe this year would be the time she’d finally start going somewhere, start setting a real career in motion, become the parent and provider that Audie needed her to be. Was it so far-fetched a notion that God sent Daisy into the road that day to launch a chain of events that might make a real difference in her life? In Audie’s? In the whole county by way of Ramble Acres? “Absolutely, boss,” she said, picking up her folders. “I’m ready to take on this challenge and show you what I’ve got.”

  * * *

  “Gunner, honey, come in here and look at this!”

  Gunner pushed his chair away from his desk—piled high this Wednesday morning with paperwork—and headed into the kitchen. There he found Gran at the computer he’d hooked up for her earlier this year. “Did you crash the hard drive again, Gran?”

  Gran pulled off her reading glasses to frown at Gunner. “I did no such thing. I’m reading my email.”

  Gran had asked for the computer so she could keep up with Gunner’s three younger siblings. Most days it was a good thing that Gran regularly corresponded with Gunner’s sisters, Ellie and Tess, and Tess’s twin brother, Luke. Other days, it just sent new reasons for everyone to stick their nose in his business, thanks to Gran’s incessant “updates.” I suppose I ought to be glad she hasn’t learned to text on a smartphone yet, Gunner told himself as he peered at the computer screen.

  “What is that?”

  Gran pshawed at him and swatted his shoulder. “It’s a drawing of Daisy. Anyone could see that.”

  Gunner squinted at the brown blob and noticed it had horns and feet. And a wide cartoon smile with pink hearts around its head. “Never seen a smile like that on our Daisy.”

  “You’d think you were never eight the way you talk. I changed your diapers, cowboy. Don’t you ever forget it.” Gran touched the screen. “This is a thank-you picture from Audie.”

  Brooke Calder now had their email addresses? That woman was even slicker than he’d thought.

  “I gave Audie my email address when she was here so she could get in touch if she had more questions. I like that girl’s gumption. She had her mother send over this picture this afternoon.” She pointed to the little girl in the drawing, who had a cartoon-style dialogue balloon over her head, reading “Thank You, Blue Thorn!” in scrawling third-grade letters. With the period on the exclamation mark made from a blue heart bearing a smiley face. “At least some young people today still remember their manners. And look, she even drew you.”

  Gran scrolled the screen and pointed to a tall figure wearing a cowboy hat—and a frown. The figure representing Gran was all smiles, holding a cane in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. “Mom” and “Me” looked happy, too, with Brooke’s curls depicted as a halo of squiggly yellow lines.

  “She’s got you pegged, I’ll give her that.” Gran chuckled.

  “I was nice to her,” Gunner protested. “I didn’t frown...did I?”

  Gran looked up at him. “You didn’t smile, either. You mostly looked as if the whole thing hurt like a toothache.” She put a hand on Gunner’s shoulder. “You went from wild child to serious man. I think you ought to settle yourself somewhere in between, don’t you?”

  “This serious man has serious work to do. I can’t go around playing host to field trips.”

  “Oh, then you’re in trouble now.” Gran pursed her lips and then scrolled up to the email that topped the drawing. “Audie’s teacher is asking if the class can come visit.”

  The email included a message thanking Gunner, Gran and Billy for their hospitality and the contact information for Audie’s teacher, saying a Mrs. Cleydon was very interested in bringing the class out for a visit.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose where a headache was just now starting. “I knew this would happen.”

  Gran got that look in her eyes. The relentless one Gunner knew all too well. “You are going to say yes. I’m going to write her back right now and tell her we’d be delighted to host the class for an afternoon.”

  Gunner crossed his arms over his chest. “Didn’t you say if I’m head of Blue Thorn I have to do the inviting?”

  “Yes. The invitation should absolutely come from you.” Gran put her fingers on the keyboard. “Show me how to forward the email and you can reply.”

  “I don’t want to be exchanging emails with Brooke Calder.”

  “Really, though, wouldn’t you be exchanging emai
ls with Audie and her teacher?”

  “Through Brooke. I tell you, Gran, that woman is up to no good.”

  She pointed to the frowning Gunner in Audie’s drawing. “That’s just your grumpy side talking. She seemed very nice to me. Sweet, even. I give a lot of credit to a young widow like her making her way in the world.”

  Gran’s talent for getting everyone’s life story out of them in twenty minutes or less could be a real annoyance. “Gran...”

  “You should help her. You should let those children come see how the ranch works. I’ve heard you go on and on about conservation and preservation. Well, here’s a chance to share those ideas with the next generation. Show these young’uns why they need to care about bison and land and ranches. Show them firsthand, not on that silly Yube-Tube.”

  “YouTube, Gran. And as for conservation and preservation, have you forgotten Brooke works for DelTex? The Ramble Acres company that wants to shave off the back of our property so they can build a shopping mall?”

  “Since when can’t you be nice to people you disagree with? It’s what’s wrong with the world, I tell you. That woman has to make a living somewhere—it’s not her fault, nor is it Audie’s, that her employer happens to be DelTex.”

  His grandmother’s face took on the legendary Buckton stubbornness, a narrow-eyed I will not back down set of features Gunner knew spelled his surrender.

  “You’d better bake a lot of cookies.”

  She smiled. “Actually, I was thinking brownies. And ice cream. A regular ice-cream social out on the lawn.”

  Two dozen sticky, squirmy, sugared-up third graders tearing up his front lawn. The thought was enough to make him want to move to the city and take up accounting. Blue Thorn was taking a lot more than he was prepared to give these days.

  As if she’d heard his thoughts, Gran’s hand came up to cover his. “Your father would be proud of what you’ve done. Of what you’re doing.”