The Rancher's Request

by Stella Bagwell

  “I’m not sure—”

  “You’d better be sure, Madsen. Our distribution numbers have been down this last quarter. We need something to grab people’s attention. So I’m giving you two weeks to get something together on this.”

  “Two weeks!”

  Her outcry had him walking over to her desk to stare menacingly down at her. “You don’t sound too eager about this, Madsen.”

  Eager? The whole idea was making her ill. Maybe if this puny little man had to face Matt Sanchez head-on, then he wouldn’t be so quick to bark. “Well, I’m just not sure that it’s the right thing to do.”

  His eyebrows shot up as though he couldn’t believe she was defying him. “Look, Madsen, you’re frankly overqualified for this job. I don’t need to pay you a journalist’s salary when I could get by with anyone with enough education to structure good sentences. If you don’t want to earn your paycheck, then you’d better head on back to the Dallas Morning News.”

  And face Michael again? Never, Juliet thought. The man had been a cheating lout. He’d broken her heart. She couldn’t work in the same room with him. And she couldn’t go back and let him tempt her back into his arms. He was no good. Just like the boyfriend she’d had before him. The two guys were a big reason she’d taken this small-time job in an out-of-the-way little town. She wanted to forget all her horrid affairs of the heart.

  Glancing away so that he couldn’t guess that her teeth were grinding together, she said, “I can do the job, Mr. Gilbert. I’ll have something on your desk in two weeks.”

  “Good. I’ll be watching for it.”

  The editor abruptly left the room and once he was out of sight, Juliet got up and firmly shut the door behind him. Damn man, she silently cursed, he knew as much about running a newspaper as she did about changing the oil in her car, which was practically nothing. The only reason he owned the paper was because he’d been an only child and his father had no one else to leave the business to. Too bad the old man hadn’t sold it, Juliet thought grimly.

  Well, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t pick up her belongings and move to some other town and some other job, she told herself. But she didn’t want to. These past few months she’d been making friends and settling into a neat little house that she loved. The people were friendly—except for Matt Sanchez—and she liked the slower movement of the small town after rushing around in Dallas all her life. Besides, there was no one who was giving her a reason to live elsewhere. Her father was still in Dallas, but she got more warmth from a stranger on the street than she did from him. Her mother’s relatives were scattered throughout the northern states, but she rarely saw or spoke to them. No, she was more or less on her own and she had a right to live where she wanted. And damn Gilbert for threatening her.

  Picking up her notes on the Sandbur wedding, Juliet tried to push the whole male race from her mind as she went to work at her computer.

  Three hours later, when she broke for lunch, the social piece was finished, all but a few final touches, and she left the building to walk to her favorite restaurant.

  The Cattle Call Café was only three blocks away. The red brick building had been built back in the eighteen sixties and was located on the main drag. On the days the livestock auction was being held on the outskirts of town, the café was always jammed with ranchers who’d come to buy or sell cattle and horses. Today the long room, filled with round wooden tables, was only moderately busy with regular townsfolk.

  Juliet chose to sit at a wooden bar running along the left side of the room. Almost before her seat hit the red vinyl stool, a young woman with long brown hair and a wide smile waved to her from behind the counter.

  “Hi, Juliet! I’ll be right with you.”

  Angie Duncan was a single mother working her way through college. Her shift at the Cattle Call started at eleven in the morning and ended at six in the evening. Juliet didn’t know how the woman managed to stay on her feet, much less have a cheery disposition, as well.

  “So how’s my best friend today?” Angie asked as she approached Juliet.

  With a lukewarm smile, Juliet said, “Okay, I suppose.”

  Angie made a sound of disapproval with her tongue. “Where’s that smile I always see on your face? You look like you’ve just lost your best friend. And that can’t be true, ’cause I’m here,” she teased.

  Juliet tried to laugh, but the sound was garbled. “I’m fine, really, Angie. I just had a long weekend and I’d like to bang an iron skillet over my boss’s head.”

  Laughing quietly, Angie pulled out her order pad. “Okay, tell me what you want for lunch and then you can tell me the rest.”

  “I’d really like a big greasy cheeseburger with piles of onion rings and a vanilla shake,” Juliet told her wryly.

  Grinning, Angie tapped a pencil thoughtfully against her chin. “But you’re actually going to eat a salad with unsweetened iced tea, right?”

  Juliet sighed. “Yeah. Make it a grilled chicken salad.”

  The waitress left to take the order to the kitchen. While she was gone, Juliet glanced around the café. Other than herself, there were only five people: two older couples and a young man drinking coffee and scanning the daily newspaper out of Victoria.

  For some reason Juliet suddenly wondered if Matt Sanchez ever came to town and ate in this café. Probably not. He was from the rich set and the Cattle Call catered to the middle and lower classes of the area. Well, that was all right with her. She didn’t want to rub elbows with his sort. And she wished to heck she could quit thinking about the man. But ever since the man had kissed her, she couldn’t seem to get her mind back in its regular groove.

  The swinging doors to the kitchen swished open and Juliet turned her head to see Angie returning with a tall glass of iced tea. She set it in front of Juliet, then pushed a small container with packets of sweetener toward her.

  As Juliet emptied the fake sugar into the tea and stirred, the waitress propped her upper body on the counter.

  “Okay. What’s the matter with old Gilbert boy? Been chasing you around the office?”

  Juliet groaned. “Lord no! The man doesn’t have enough testosterone in his body for those kinds of impulses. I doubt he sleeps in the same bed with his wife.”

  Angie giggled. “Lucky her.”

  Juliet took a long sip from her glass. “He wants me to do a story that I don’t want to do. And when I more or less told him that I didn’t want to do it, he threatened to fire me.”

  “That’s terrible. What sort of story?”

  “Something personal about a family around here. He thinks it would grab readers. I think it would cause more trouble than it would be worth.”

  Thankfully, Angie was prudent enough not to press her for details on the subject. Instead, she asked, “So how did the wedding go? A big deal, huh?”

  Sighing heavily, Juliet nodded. “Very big. The house was overflowing with flowers. Real ones. There was live music, lots of food, champagne and dancing. I’ve never seen so many diamonds and minks in my life.”

  With her chin resting on her palm, a wistful expression stole over the waitress’s face. “Gosh, can you imagine that kind of wedding? That sort of life is a fairy tale to me.”

  Juliet let out a dry laugh. “Me, too.”

  Angie waved a dismissive hand at her. “Don’t give me that. You’re gorgeous. It wouldn’t be any problem for you to get a rich man. That is, if you wanted one,” she added coyly.

  Rolling her eyes, Juliet said, “Well, I’ve had plenty of trials and errors. I don’t want one.”

  “Juliet! You—”

  The waitress was going to say more but the bell at the pickup window rang and she went to fetch Juliet’s order. When she returned with the salad, Juliet asked in a casual voice, “Angie, do you know any of the Sanchezes or Saddlers?”

  The woman’s brows lifted thoughtfully. “No. Not personally. I’ve seen some of them around before. Mercedes and Nicolette come in here to eat from time to time. So do Lex
and Cordero.”

  The four that Angie had just mentioned were all cousins. Juliet had learned that much at the wedding. She’d also learned the Sandbur was owned by two sisters, Geraldine Saddler and Elizabeth Sanchez. The latter had passed away and Geraldine was in semiretirement. It was the two women’s grown children that were now seeing after the multimillion dollar ranch.

  Thoughtfully, Juliet picked up her fork and stabbed into a morsel of chicken. “But not Matt Sanchez?”

  Angie shook her head. “Not on my shift. But that’s not surprising. I hear he’s something of a hermit.”

  Juliet had never been one to listen to gossip, but this time she couldn’t help herself. “Really?”

  “Yeah. That’s what a friend of mine who used to work on the Sandbur said. He never saw Matt leave the ranch for anything.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s a busy man.” Busy insulting women like her, she thought irritably.

  “I’d say it has more to do with losing his wife. She died a few years back and everyone says he’s never been the same. ’Course, since I didn’t know him, that would be hard for me to say. I’m just telling you what I hear.” She looked curiously at Juliet. “Why were you asking about him, anyway?”

  Why indeed, Juliet wondered. He should be the last thing on her mind. Instead, he was all she could think about. The whole thing was maddening.

  “Oh, just curious. He was in the wedding party and he struck me as—well, different from the other men in the family.”

  Angie gave her a mischievous wink. “Honey, it’s his brother, Cordero, that strikes me. He’s a hunk and then some.”

  Juliet looked at her with surprise. “Why, Angie, I’ve never heard you talk about any man like that.”

  The waitress shrugged one shoulder. “Well, after Jubal left me to marry the rich girl in town, I thought I’d hate the male race forever. But a woman can’t help but be attracted when the right man strolls by.”

  Shaking her head, Juliet leaned forward so that only Angie could pick up her words. “Look, I’ve never met Jubal, but I have an inkling he would have never married the rich girl if he’d known you were pregnant with his child. Dear God, I’ll never understand why you didn’t tell him.”

  Angie’s frown was a picture of disbelief. “I didn’t want him that way! I’ve told you that before!”

  “Yes. But still, he ought to know he has a three-year-old daughter.”

  Wiping a dishcloth at an invisible spot on the counter, Angie mumbled, “Maybe someday I’ll tell him.” She looked up at Juliet. “You want anything else? I gotta go warm up the Reynolds’ coffee. The old man’s looking this way.”

  “I’m fine. I’ve got to finish this anyway and get back to work. Gilbert’s mad at me enough without adding fuel to the fire.”

  The waitress went to tend to her other customers and Juliet hurriedly swallowed the last of her salad. While she ate, she scolded herself for giving Angie unwanted advice about Jubal. Juliet was the last person to be giving anyone advice about their love life. Since her days in college, she’d picked some real losers. And the thing that made her choices even worse was that she hadn’t realized they were losers until her heart had already been broken.

  Bad judgment in men. She might as well have the phrase tattooed on her arm so that she could look down at it every day and remember how much she’d been hurting when she’d fled Dallas. That memory alone ought to be enough to make her forget about Matt Sanchez and the sizzling kiss he rocked on her lips. But so far nothing was making her forget the heated exchange with the ranch manager.

  Two days later, Gilbert gave Juliet the exciting assignment of covering a birthday party at a local nursing home for a resident that was turning a hundred and three. The woman had served many years on the city council and had been a philanthropist in the area, so pictures and a short story in the paper would be expected.

  That afternoon, as Juliet drove to the Sunset Manor, she asked herself, as she did many times since leaving the Dallas Morning News, if she was wasting herself in this small town with its tiny paper that consisted of mostly local social events. She was a good journalist and she’d written pieces on everything from crime to politics. But the city pace had been exhausting and the pressure to meet deadlines enough to give her stomach problems.

  If she could manage to get five minutes of her father’s time, he’d tell her it was a hell of a waste to go through years of working and scraping for funds to get herself through college then wind up writing about births, deaths and weddings. But she wouldn’t take five minutes of Hugh Madsen’s time even if he would give it to her. Just as she’d not taken a dime of his money when she’d been working her way through college.

  Hugh was a man that was for one person and one person only. Himself. Even before her mother had died, Juliet could remember him being gone from the house for days on end. There had always been some big deal he was making, the next pile of money to be made. Every now and then he’d hit it big with some new venture, then a few months later be filing bankruptcy.

  Even when her mother had become seriously ill, Hugh hadn’t changed his high-rolling ways. He’d always made charming promises to his daughter and his wife, but he’d rarely, if ever, come through with them. As far as Juliet was concerned, her mother had died of a broken heart rather than cancer. She’d simply lost her spirit to fight for her life.

  At the nursing home, Juliet interviewed the birthday honoree, then took pictures of the woman among her family and friends. The social room was festooned with bright colored balloons and strips of twisted crepe paper. A stereo was providing ballroom music and several old, but agile couples, were dancing and holding hands like young lovers. It was a festive, uplifting scene and as Juliet walked down the wide corridor of the building, she felt a little better about the world.

  Maybe there was hope for her yet, she thought wryly. Maybe by the time she grew to be an old woman she would find the love of her life.

  Juliet was walking along, musing over that thought, when she passed an open door to a resident’s room. An older man with thick, dark hair and slumped shoulders was sitting in a wheelchair and at his feet, a young girl was reading to him from a small, leather-bound book.

  The girl’s voice was sweet and clear and somehow familiar. Juliet paused in the corridor for a closer glance and was totally surprised to see Gracia Sanchez.

  For a moment Juliet questioned the wisdom of making her presence known to the girl, even if the door was open to the private room. But the last time she’d seen Gracia, she’d been crying and fleeing across the lawn. She wanted to make sure the girl had gotten over the embarrassing incident.

  Quietly, Juliet stepped to the open door and knocked on the facing. “I’m sorry for interrupting, Gracia. I just happened to see you and I wanted to say hi.”

  “Juliet!”

  Jumping from her seat on the low stool, the girl ran over to Juliet and flung her arms around her waist. Juliet was so surprised by the unexpected display of emotion that for a moment she was at a loss for words.

  “I thought I’d never get to see you again!” the girl exclaimed as she stepped back and grabbed Juliet’s hand.

  Juliet smiled at her. The girl was dressed in blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt with some sort of logo printed across the front. She looked like any normal girl her age rather than the miserable child she’d seen on the front lawn of the ranch.

  “Well, I never expected to see you here today,” Juliet replied. “Are you visiting a friend or relative?”

  Gracia looked fondly over her shoulder at the man in the wheelchair. “That’s my grandfather, Mingo Sanchez. He likes for me to read the Bible to him. So I come every other day after school.”

  It was difficult for Juliet to determine the man’s age. His face wasn’t that lined with wrinkles, but the twist of his mouth aged his appearance. A wide scar ran from his temple to the back side of his head. Seeing the hairless strip of skin made her wonder if he’d had to undergo some sort of operati
on.

  “That’s very nice of you to spend your time with him. Has your grandfather lived here long?”

  Gracia tilted her head to one side as she thought about Juliet’s question. “Maybe two or three years. I can’t remember exactly. He got hurt. Do you want to come in and say hi to him?”

  Juliet hesitated. She wasn’t all that good with handicapped people and besides that, she had a feeling that if Matt found out she was anywhere near his father, he’d be snorting fire. Still, she didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings.

  “All right. Just for a moment.”

  With her hand still closed around Juliet’s, Gracia led her over to the man in the wheelchair.

  “Grandpa can’t talk, but he understands what you say to him,” Gracia explained to Juliet, then spoke to her grandfather in a rapid spate of Spanish.

  Once she was finished, the man lifted one hand weakly out toward Juliet. She stepped forward and shook it gently.

  “Hello, Mr. Sanchez. My name is Juliet. I’m a friend of your granddaughter’s.”

  He nodded and managed to give her a slow wink. The flirtatious greeting told Juliet the man must be the exact opposite from his son.

  Gracia said, “I’ve already told him about you. I told him about Daddy being rude to you, too.”

  Embarrassed heat swept across Juliet’s face. “Oh. You shouldn’t have mentioned that. It’s already forgotten.” At least, she liked to tell herself he was forgotten.

  Gracia twirled a strand of hair around her forefinger as she studied Juliet. “Uh—what are you doing here? Do you have family here, too?”

  Juliet shook her head. “No. I’m here doing an assignment for the paper.”

  “Oh. Then you have to go back to work this evening?”

  “For a while.”

  The girl’s expression fell flat. “Gee, I was hoping we could go for a soda or something.” She glanced at a big watch on her wrist, then added hopefully, “Daddy won’t be here to pick me up for another thirty minutes.”