The Texas Rancher's Return

by Allie Pleiter

  Gunner pointed down to a copse of trees on the far side of the creek. “There was a time you could fish right there. I’d spend hours with Luke seeing who could catch the biggest fish.”

  “And who won?” She shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked where he pointed.

  “I did, of course.”

  The clear pride in his voice drew her eyes back to Gunner. “And just for the record, how big was this prize-winning fish?”

  He grinned, caught in his boasting as she knew he was. “A staggering eight inches.”

  She laughed. “Oh. A whopper of a fish, then.”

  “Beat Luke’s seven-incher, and that’s all that counted.” He began walking a little farther down the ridge. “This isn’t just real estate or a drainage system, Ms. Calder. Not to me.”

  “Brooke,” she corrected before she could even think about it. Ms. Calder was her professional self, and this was feeling more and more personal. Anyway, the more each side could see each other as people rather than obstacles, the better off everyone would be.

  And it wasn’t hard to look at Gunner as a man rather than a professional goal. Tall with sandy-blond hair and those extraordinary turquoise Buckton eyes, he was no slouch to look at for any reason. There was more to him than handsome features, however. The part of her that felt unmoored since Jim’s death was drawn to the grounded way Gunner talked about his land.

  “Okay, Brooke, I just want to be clear here. I’m not interested in selling off one inch of Blue Thorn. Ever. So as long as you’re square with that, I’m willing to play it friendly.” He reached down and plucked a stem of grass. “I guard what’s mine. It may have taken me a while to find my way back to the Blue Thorn, but make no mistake—I’m here for good, and I’m not letting any of it go.”

  She nodded, feeling such a show of loyalty deserved her respect, even if it did pose a growing challenge. “I get that.” She sat down on the trunk of a large, fallen-over tree that sat under the shadow of its neighbor—a great, sprawling live oak that threw a pleasant patch of shade over the lovely spot. Insects buzzed around her, mingling with the cry of a pair of hawks. “I’m not some heartless corporate shark, you know.”

  Gunner surprised her by sitting down a few feet away, still twirling the blade of grass between his fingers. “No, you just work for one.”

  “I could give you a whole speech about how DelTex has done some great things for the region, but somehow I think it would fall on deaf ears. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who changes his mind often.”

  He laughed at that. “No, ma’am. I prefer to call it single-minded. Gran has a few other names for it.”

  Now she laughed. “I can imagine.” She sat back, breathing in the wonderful scents of the land. “She’s amazing, your grandmother. The whole place is beautiful. If you don’t mind my asking, what made you stay away so long?”

  Gunner shook his head with a sound that was too dark to be called a laugh. “So now I know you didn’t grow up here. I hardly ever run into folks who don’t know my...colorful...history.”

  “Jim, my late husband—” it still amazed her that she could say that without it gripping her throat anymore “—he’s the one who grew up here. I grew up down by Galveston. He might have known you.”

  Gunner looked at her. “Wait—your husband was Jimmy Calder, wasn’t he?”

  “So you did know him?”

  “I knew of him. He graduated from high school a few years ahead of me. We didn’t exactly run in the same crowd.”

  She could imagine, but she asked anyway, wanting to hear his version of it. “How’s that?”

  Gunner leaned back on his elbows, crossing his boots as his long legs stretched out in front of him. Boots, hat, jeans, lanky ease—he looked every inch the Texas cowboy. “Well, let’s just say that while your man was leading Bible studies in the school cafeteria, I was most likely sneaking cigarettes and kisses out behind it. I knew who he was, but I expect he only knew me as one of the lost souls he’d failed to reach.”

  That was Jim. If men could be born missionaries, Jim was. His faith was total, fiery and enthralling from the moment she’d met him. The vision of him leading studies in college, brown eyes lit with purpose and enthusiasm, bloomed up out of her memory. They’d married while still in school. She was glad she could think of him now without falling apart. He’d never have wanted her to mourn his loss for long, but the knowledge of his joy in heaven hadn’t ever made the torment of being left behind any easier to bear.

  Gunner’s voice, far gentler than she’d ever heard it before, brought her out of her thoughts. “I’m sorry for your loss. And Audie’s. What happened to him?”

  Brooke pulled in a deep breath. She was almost at the point where she could feel the story honored him and his faith instead of just breaking her heart—almost. “We were in Africa—Chad, to be exact—in the mission field. One of the local government officials had been commandeering goods and funds meant for the school we served. Jim could never stand that sort of thing.”

  She sent her eyes out across the slow current of water, not quite able to look at Gunner as she told the rest of the story. “He tried all kinds of ways to stop the corruption, but nothing ever worked. One night some medicine meant for one of our students was waylaid and found its way to the black market. That was the last straw for him. He went down to this man and accused him of theft in front of the village elders. No one from the village was willing to cross this goon’s path, but Jim was.” She swallowed hard. “He never came home.”

  “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  “They found him just before dawn. Shot in the back, they told me. Not quite an execution, but close enough. Audie was six. We gathered our things, came home to Texas and Friday Taco Trio became Friday Tacos for Two.”

  She was glad Gunner didn’t feel the need to spout any of the sympathy-card phrases that story usually produced. The quiet and the open space seemed to hold the moment in a respect that didn’t need words. After a long pause, Brooke sighed and said, “Hey, wait a minute, you were supposed to be telling me about your colorful history.”

  Gunner angled toward her. “Nothing much to tell. If there was a way to be wild, mouth off, get in trouble or mess up, I did it. I was never quite arrested, but I came close a number of times. I kept my daddy up nights, and Gran will tell you there are dents in my bed from where she rested her elbows on it praying I’d come home in one piece.”

  She’d said her share of “bring him home safe, Lord” prayers over Jim—if for entirely different reasons—and she knew the ache of those night vigils. “And your mama?”

  “She passed when I was a teenager. She was sick for a spell before she died, and my dad didn’t handle that well. He wanted me to take care of my siblings on account of how young they were—Ellie was thirteen and the twins, Luke and Tess, were only eleven—only, I wasn’t interested in doin’ as I was told. No, I lashed out in all the ways teenagers do—and then some. Soon as I could manage it, I left.”

  “Where did you go? When you left the Blue Thorn, I mean.”

  “Oh, anywhere that was away. Did a stint at college, but that didn’t last long. I bummed around Texas for a while, working ranches and the like, but then that didn’t feel far enough. Four years later, I ended up working on a boat in Oregon.”

  “Wow.” Brooke laughed. “You really did run far and long.”

  “Actually, I was considering some oil-field work in Alaska when Gran wrote me to say Dad was sick and asked me to come back.”

  “What made you say yes?”

  Gunner thought for a moment before replying. “I didn’t, at first. Then Dad got sicker and Gran asked again. I knew she would never ask twice if things weren’t desperate. Only I didn’t hurry. By the time I wandered on home, the herd was all but gone and Dad had passed on. I suppose some part of me figured it was
time to come back and see if staying put was any better than running.”

  Brooke watched a butterfly float by and land. It waved its yellow wings back and forth before lifting off again, this time settling on the far end of the log. “And was it?”

  Pushing his hat farther down on his head, Gunner looked out over the land. “I’m still working on that, but yeah, it seems to be. I feel like I’ve made my dent in the world, starting up a healthy herd like this. Cattle were never really my thing, but the idea of raising bison, of keeping the species viable and all when a century ago they were just about done for? That feeds something. If that doesn’t sound too hokey to say.”

  It didn’t sound hokey at all. Brooke had always admired men who stood for something. Until now, she’d just seen Gunner Buckton as a man who stood against DelTex. Sitting here listening to him gave her a glimpse of why he acted the way he did. Understanding was the foundation for communication. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  There was a bit of amazement in his eyes—a surprise she felt tumble her own stomach—before he said, “You’re welcome.”

  If this afternoon was any indication, it wouldn’t be so hard to build a relationship with the Bucktons, to keep the conversation going. In fact, it might be downright nice.

  * * *

  “Glad that’s over.” Billy came in from the holding pens looking hot and tired. Containing huge adult bison was a tricky, even dangerous business. No one confined a one-thousand-pound beast and expected it to cooperate for vaccines—even with a series of ever-narrowing feeder chutes and tight metal holding pens, the whole process felt like trying to herd a mountain range.

  Gunner checked the chart Billy handed him. “Everyone looking okay?”

  “Herd’s healthy. Looks like we’ll have a strong spring calving season.” Billy smiled—that was good news. Several of the bison bellowed on their way out to pasture, registering their displeasure at the checkup.

  “Roscoe’s getting to be quite the handful, but I think we’ll be fine once mating season is done in August.”

  “Those bulls can get ornery,” Gunner commiserated.

  “You oughta know,” Billy teased. He nodded toward the blue car now heading down the lane toward the exit. “How’d it go?”

  Gunner looked after the car as it raised a cloud of dust in its wake. “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s up to something. I’m just not sure what it is.”

  Billy took a bandanna out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. “You said she works for DelTex. Shouldn’t be too hard to guess.”

  “Yeah, well, if it was Markham, I’d say it’d be easy. He’d be here trying to get us to sell.”

  “If it was Markham, you wouldn’t let him in the gate.”

  Gunner began walking toward the supply room. “That’s just it. They could be sending her because they know I won’t talk to Markham. Only, she talks like she’s brokering some kind of treaty, as if she expects to find some solution that makes everybody happy.”

  Billy kicked a stone out of his way. “Ain’t no such thing. Not in this case.”

  “That’s just it—there isn’t a solution like that here.” Gunner took the clipboard Billy had given him and hung it on a nail in the wall. “Either they get the land or we keep the land. Why is she here looking for a compromise when there isn’t one?”

  Billy stuffed his gloves in the pocket of his jeans. “Maybe she just wants to gaze at your ugly mug. And you hers. She’s definitely your type. Think they know that?”

  Gunner whacked his hat across Billy’s chest. “Would DelTex stoop that low? Try to lower my defenses with a pair of pretty legs?”

  “It’s been known to work on you before,” Billy said.

  “Not anymore, it doesn’t.”

  “You say that, but who invited a bunch of third graders to come eat brownies and ice cream on the lawn?”

  Gunner didn’t care to answer that. He just walked out of the barn to leave Billy whistling.

  Chapter Seven

  Gunner was starting to think maybe Billy had a point. He watched the little blue car make its way up the drive Saturday morning and wondered if his defenses really had come down. He’d told Billy there was no way a woman could send his wits packing, but based on the phone call he’d made this morning, he’d have to eat those words.

  He told himself not to smile as Audie tumbled out of the car, heading toward him at a full-out run. The little girl slammed into him like a pint-size wall of happiness, nearly knocking him over as she hugged him around the waist.

  “I’m so glad. I’m so, so, so glad you called and are gonna let me see the calf!” she said with her head still buried in his stomach. Daisy had given birth Thursday night, and all he could think about since was how much Audie would get a kick out of seeing the brand-new baby bison.

  “Whoa there, girl. It’s not that big a deal.” He caught Brooke’s eyes over Audie’s head, and the expression in them told Gunner just how big a deal it was to the Calder women. The people-pleasing stuff was supposed to be Gran’s stock and trade, not his.

  “It is, Mr. Buckton. It’s a huge deal.” Audie looked up at him with big brown eyes and a smile that went from ear to ear. Looking at him like that, she could have asked him for just about anything, and Gunner couldn’t hope to refuse. She was too cute for her own good, Audie was.

  She took after her mother that way.

  Brooke had reached Gunner by now, all smiles herself. She held her hands together as if she didn’t know what else to do with them, and Gunner had the unsettling thought that she was trying to keep herself from hugging him. For a split second, with Audie’s arms locked around his middle, he wondered what it would feel like to have Brooke’s arms around him. Stop right there, he told himself. The innocent little kid is one thing, but this mama’s got designs. Don’t you forget that.

  “Thanks for this,” Brooke said, looking as if she really did mean it. “You didn’t have to.”

  “It’s self-defense, actually,” Gunner admitted—and it was true, sort of. “I knew Audie’d want to see the calf when Daisy delivered, and it wouldn’t be smart to have the whole class over there when they come next week.”

  “You’re right, you’re right,” Audie said, pulling back to start tugging Gunner’s sleeve toward the pen. “I’d just die if I knew Daisy’s baby had been born and I couldn’t see.” Gunner had to stop himself from laughing at Audie’s dramatic overture. He couldn’t bring himself to dampen her enthusiasm—he was still a bit in awe himself about every new bison born on Blue Thorn land. For a species that had come so close to extinction, every new calf was a tiny victory, a small payback for all the wrong mankind had done to the animal.

  He hunched down to Audie’s height, looking her straight in the eye. “I’m glad to know you’re so excited. And I’m glad I can show you the little fella, but—”

  “Fella!” Audie cried, jumping up in glee. “So Daisy did get a baby boy calf!”

  “She did, indeed.” Gunner laughed even as he took Audie by both shoulders. “But brand-new mamas need to be handled with extra care. You’re gonna have to get all your squiggles and squealing out of your system before we go anywhere near the corral. Daisy and her calf need quiet. And we can’t get too close.”

  “You mean I can’t touch him?” Gunner couldn’t believe how the disappointment in Audie’s eyes poked him right in the gut. “You said the new calves are so soft.”

  “They are. And I’ll try and make sure you get the chance to pet him someday. It just can’t be today. He needs to imprint on his mama and no one else. Not even me.”

  “Imprint?” Audie’s nose crinkled up in confusion.

  Gunner looked up at Brooke, at a bit of a loss for how to explain familial bonding to an eight-yea
r-old.

  Brooke came down to Audie’s level so that the three of them made a short little trio right there on the house lawn. “Mama-baby love. Like you and I when you were a baby. You knew who I was just as strong as I knew who you were. Only some animals—like bison—need to do it all alone and right away.”

  That wasn’t entirely accurate—bonding happened in the midst of a herd—but it was a good enough explanation for Audie. “It’s so the little guy can always find Daisy and knows it’s Daisy who’ll take care of him. If he bonded to you or me, then he’d always be looking to us to take care of him.”

  Audie’s chin jutted out. “I’d do it.”

  Gunner watched himself reach out and ruffle Audie’s brown waves as if the hand belonged to some other man. I don’t like kids. Why do I like this one so much? “I bet you would.” Then, as if again some other nice guy had taken over, Gunner found himself saying, “That’s why I’m gonna let you name him.”

  Brooke and Audie’s mutual joyful shock did something warm and wiggly to Gunner’s stomach. Billy was right. He was in trouble here.

  “Really?” Audie’s eyes were as big as a cow’s, the word squealed out of her with a full-blown glee no adult could ever hope to match.

  “Gunner.” Brooke’s tone was soft and astonished. “You don’t have to do that.”

  He hadn’t planned to offer Audie the right to name the calf. Usually, he kept that honor for himself, Billy or Gran. There was just something about Audie that pulled all this nice out of him—nice he didn’t even know he had. “It’s mine to give. I’ve been running out of good names lately anyhow.” He looked down at Audie, who had only just now stopped jumping up and down. “You strike me as someone good at naming.”

  The bit of tears he saw hanging on Brooke’s lashes gave him a jolt. She kept surprising him, kept knocking down whatever he thought he knew about her.

  “Oh, I am. I’m splendid at names.” Audie drew the word out as if it was a favorite.

  “Okay, then. Looks like we’ve got the right person for the job.” Gunner stood up and began walking toward the corral. “The first thing you need to know about bison calves is that they’re orange.”