“Love?” He had to tease her. It was his brotherly duty. “I don’t know about that, seeing as you’ve gone all soft on me since you got together with Todd. Where’s the Nora who taught me to look out for myself and make sure I succeeded?”
“All that’s still important. But if that’s all we do, life’s not going to be very rich, is it? I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. But you asked for my opinion. And my opinion is to ignore the numbers and share the water.”
“It’s not what I expected you’d say.” He crumpled up the paper in disgust. And because he was still her little brother, he threw it at her.
Nora caught it in one hand and grinned. “Glad I can still surprise you, bro. Trust me on this one, okay?”
“Sure. But if that well runs out of water, you’ll help me figure out what to do next, right?”
“I’ll buy you your first water delivery.”
“Ah...so consoling.” He delivered the sarcasm with a smile. “You always were good to me.”
Nora laughed. “Back atcha. And one more piece of advice?”
“Do I have a choice?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Fine. Shoot.” He sat back, waiting for the lecture. He dreaded it mostly because she was probably right. She always had been. Five years older than him and many, many years wiser.
“Look, if you really want to get rid of the legacy of Dad and our brothers, and make the Hoffman name mean something more than larceny and drug deals, you need to get off this ranch. Don’t hide out here. You need to spend some time in town, meet some people. Let everyone see you’ve changed.”
He let out a bark of a laugh. “This from the world’s biggest introvert.”
“Yes, and even I’m trying.”
She was. He’d seen it and admired her for it. Todd was friends with most of the town, and Nora gamely stepped out by his side, quietly facing down anyone who despised her for her family history. “I hate it when you’re right all the time.’
“It’s my job as your older sister.”
“Ha!”
“But seriously, Wade, you need to get out more.”
It was clear she wasn’t going to let him off without a promise. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go out for a beer or something. As long as you let Todd off the leash for a night so he can go with me.”
“I don’t have him on a leash!” she protested, flushing.
Now he was in full-on little brother mode. It was far more comfortable than hearing about his mistakes. “Really? And when’s the last time you two spent more than a couple of hours apart?”
“We like each other!” Nora was beet red now. She’d always blushed easily.
“He’s leashed. Arf arf!”
“Okay, twelve-year-old. You can borrow my fiancé for a night out this weekend. Now, do you need anything else? Because I told Todd I’d meet him for dinner.”
“I rest my case.”
She grinned. “Glad you’re feeling better. Now go fix things with Lori, you big dork.”
* * *
WADE WATCHED NORA’S Jeep disappear down the driveway before he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. He had no idea how he was going to handle the night out he’d just gotten himself into.
And Lori. He’d have to find a way to face her as well. She’d looked like an angry angel on his ranch yesterday, with her hair swirling around her shoulders and her eyes dark with hurt. So different from the way she’d looked at him, full of longing and acceptance and desire, all those years ago, just before they’d made love. Her first time, and the first time it ever mattered for him.
And damn, it had mattered. He’d loved her from a distance through high school. She’d been smart and strong and good at everything she turned her hand to. He’d leaned on the fence down at the arena, watching her win junior rodeo ribbons right alongside the boys her age. He’d seen her name semester after semester on the school honor roll posted in the fancy glass case by the office. He’d listened to her up at the podium delivering student council speeches and stole glances after school when she headed off to cheerleading practice in her cute uniform.
He’d watched her and wanted her and never felt worthy of her. He was the kid from so far down the wrong side of the tracks he might as well have been living in another country. Most days he was lucky to figure out where his meals were coming from, let alone what his homework was. And he covered his misery in the couldn’t-care-less attitude and cigarette-smoking armor of the kids like him. The ones who couldn’t go home until their angry-drunk dads had passed out. The ones who had nowhere to study, or who didn’t have what it took to succeed in school. The almost-dropouts, the almost-failing, the lost kids.
Until that one day when he’d finally gotten himself kicked out of school for good, and she’d offered him comfort and so much more. And he’d taken everything she’d given. And then pushed her away for both their sakes.
And now, when he’d come home a combat veteran, and possibly, finally, worthy of all that she was, he’d blown it. Because of the anxiety that had him grabbing at the things he could touch and see, like gallons of water and spreadsheets of numbers. Anxiety that had him tongue-tied in front of her, unable to give her the water she wanted or the apology she deserved.
He had to do something different. Had to figure out a way around the throttlehold the PTSD had on him. Because it wasn’t just affecting him. It was hurting Lori, the girl he’d loved, who’d given him memories he’d held on to like a talisman during all the dark and fear-filled nights in Afghanistan, when he wasn’t sure he’d make it back alive.
* * *
DR. HERNANDEZ KNELT over the heifer lying in the dry grass. The young cow was breathing heavily in the soft evening air. Wade could feel his breathing catch right along with hers.
“Did you check the papers carefully when you bought these gals?” the vet asked.
Wade racked his stressed-out brain, trying to picture what the seller had given him. It had been a hectic day. He’d injured his shoulder and Nora had handled the delivery. “Well, I know I got papers. And the seller said they’d had all their shots.”
“Yes, but did he hand you a certificate from a veterinarian? Did you have a vet look them over before you accepted them?”
“No.” He watched the doctor’s brows draw together as he surveyed the rest of the herd. About a quarter of the heifers were standing around listlessly. “I guess I should have.”
“Yup.” The vet sighed. “It’s okay, Wade. It’s a pretty common mistake.”
Dr. Hernandez wasn’t much older than him, and Wade appreciated his blunt honesty. It was what he was used to after the army. “So I messed up. What can I do to fix it?”
“It’s a respiratory illness. They probably never got their booster shots. It’s treatable. You need to separate out the sick ones and give them antibiotics. And they’re all going to need to be vaccinated. Come on over to my van and I’ll get everything ready for you.” He paused. “You know how to give them shots, don’t you?”
He’d read about how to give them shots. He knew he should confess his ignorance, but he couldn’t stand to have the doctor think he was an even bigger fool. “Yeah,” he said casually. “That’s not a problem.” But then he remembered Lori’s harsh words of advice. A rancher needed to face mistakes and fix them fast. These cattle depended on him. There was no room for pride here. “Actually, no, not really.”
“Look,” Dr. Hernandez said as he opened a box in his van. “I can show you really quick, but do you have anyone who can help you out? Maybe someone who can mentor you a bit? Cattle ranching is complicated—a lot can go wrong. And if too much goes wrong, it can be dangerous for you, for the animals and even for the consumer.”
Wade watched the doctor measure out liquid into a glass bottle. He didn’t relish folks around here kn
owing how little experience he had running a ranch. There was only one person he could possibly confess that to. And she’d called him a thief yesterday.
His sister had been right. He might need water, but he needed his neighbor even more. Lori was the smartest person he knew, and one of the most capable ranchers in the area as well. If he shared the water, she’d help him. She had to. He was desperate, and underneath her frustration with him, she was a generous person.
And maybe desperation was just what he needed to push him through the anxiety. To get him to finally say the things he should have already. Things like I’m sorry. And I wish I’d acted differently. “Yeah, I know someone,” he told the vet.
“Great. Have him get over here as soon as possible. You’ll need an extra hand.”
Funny how the vet immediately assumed that Wade was talking about a guy. Lori probably had to be extra tough, trying to make it in a profession so dominated by men. Which would help explain why she’d been so tough with him over the water. Though he’d also been an insensitive, scared jerk. That would probably explain it better.
He remembered, suddenly, being a kid at school. How he’d almost never had a lunch with him. How Lori had always offered to share hers. She’d fed him just about every day for years. And then he’d turned his back on her when she came to him about the water? What the hell was wrong with him? How had he started making all of his decisions out of fear?
He turned to the doctor with a new resolve. “I’ve got someone I need to apologize to. And if I do it right, I hope she’ll give me a hand around here. She’s the best rancher I know.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
JIM WALKED OUT of the barn with a cardboard shipping box and dropped it in the dirt at Lori’s feet. She stepped back as a small dust cloud rose up.
“What are these contraptions?” Jim reached down and pulled out a yellow plastic crescent, holding it gingerly between two fingers.
Lori grinned at the ranch manager. “They’re the calf weaners I was telling you about.” She grabbed one and held it up for him to see. “This part hooks into the calf’s nostrils. Then it can’t nurse.”
“Do you really think we need ’em?” Jim flexed the plastic between his gnarled fingers. “When your dad was here, we kept it simple. Cows in one pasture, calves in another. Split ’em up fast and got it over with. We didn’t need these crazy-looking nose flaps.”
Was it worth arguing? The last thing she wanted was Jim feeling like he’d been wrong all those years. “Ah, come on, Jim, they’ll look cute!”
Jim shook his head and tossed the weaner back into the box. Lori studied his weathered face. Beneath his resistance she saw all his old kindness there. He wasn’t trying to undermine her. He was just having trouble with change.
“The way you and Dad did it worked fine,” she reassured him. “But there’ve been some studies lately, proving that stress during weaning is bad for cattle. They lose weight. Calves get sick.”
Jim shuffled the heel of his boot in the dust. “I don’t know what scientists have to do with ranching.”
“With a weaner in place, a calf can’t nurse, so it can stay with its mom while it weans. That keeps it calm when it suddenly can’t drink milk. And since we won’t separate the calves from their moms until after they’re weaned, they don’t fuss nearly as much once they’re apart.”
“They’ve always gotten over it pretty quick.” He gave her a stubborn glare.
“Have they?” Lori tamped down her frustration and walked with Jim over to the fence where Dakota was tied. She pulled the strap on the mare’s cinch tight, looping the extra leather into a knot.
“The calves do a lot of bawling and pacing during weaning,” she reminded Jim gently. She untied Dakota and reached for the reins, slipping her boot into the stirrup. She was heading out to take a look at some of the weeds coming up in one of their eastern pastures. With the drought, more unwelcome plants were taking root.
Jim nodded slightly. “Well, sure, there was some of that.”
From up on her mare’s back, Lori tried one more time. “Last year Dad and I went to Reno for that seminar on calm cattle management, remember? This is the kind of stuff we learned. By making a less stressful environment for the cows and calves, we improve their well-being. And lower our workload and raise our profits.”
A snide voice interrupted their conversation. “Why don’t you just light them some nice candles and give ’em a massage?”
F off. Lori bit her lip to keep from saying it out loud. Seth Garner was such a jerk. She hadn’t realized he’d been listening in.
The ranch hand sauntered over from where he’d been loading hay into a truck. He was smiling, but his face didn’t hold the same kindness as Jim’s. She’d never liked him much, but ever since she’d taken over the ranch, Seth had been grumbling about taking orders from a woman. Lori wondered if he lay awake nights, thinking of new ways to undermine her. He certainly was inventive about it.
He glanced at his watch as if noting the lost time between his quip and her answer. Lori swallowed. Why should she be nervous? This was her ranch. She saw Jim wink at her and remembered his advice from the other day. Dish it right back.
“Don’t you have work to do?” She drew herself up extra tall in the saddle.
“I was just doing some work.” Seth leaned against the rail, folding his arms over his chest and crossing his legs casually. “Following my boss lady’s orders and loading that truck over there with hay.”
Boss lady. The words dripped with sarcasm and puddled like murky water. Lori backed Dakota up a few paces so she could see Seth’s face under his hat. She met the challenge in his eyes, but forced her voice into a tone way sweeter than she felt right now. “Well, thanks for getting that done. Now, I’m pretty sure they could use an extra hand cleaning up the floor over at the white barn. Since you’re taking the hay down there anyway, why don’t you take a shovel with you? You can stay and help them out.”
Seth’s cheeks paled except for some flecks of red on his cheekbones. “That’s not my job.”
“It’s fall, Seth. We have a lot to get done this time of year and we’ve all got to do our part. Plus, I am your boss lady. So you’d best get started.”
Seth’s eyes bugged, and he stared at her, stuck without a snide comeback for once.
She turned Dakota to go, but Jim’s soft voice had her pausing.
“Well done, there, Lori.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Jim picked up the box of calf weaners. “I’ll just get started putting these on,” he told her, his voice louder than usual, so Seth could hear. “Seems like weaning is gonna go a lot easier with you at the helm.” He shot her a wink that Seth couldn’t see.
Bless Jim. He might grumble and question the decisions she made in private, but he’d support her 100 percent in front of the others.
“I appreciate that, Jim,” she said. “I’ll be back to help out in a few minutes.” She didn’t have to look at Seth to know he was scowling. And that she’d scored her first real win in her struggle to take the reins of Lone Mountain Ranch.
She turned to go and spotted Wade leaning on the fence near the white barn, watching her intently. The last time they’d seen each other, she’d been yelling. Now he’d seen her go head-to-head with Seth. Well, at least he wouldn’t have any illusions that she was the sweet young girl he’d left behind. She walked Dakota over to him, bracing herself for whatever their next confrontation would be.
He was wearing that old straw cowboy hat that made his dark eyes even more impenetrable in the shadows beneath the brim.
“Looks like you showed him.”
She glanced at Seth, slouching back to his truck, radiating a bad attitude that she could feel from here. “I hope I didn’t upset him too badly. He’s just been giving me such a hard time. But now he lo
oks angrier than ever.”
“Hey, it’s your ranch. Run it how you want. If he hates it, he’ll leave and go work somewhere else, and you’ll both be better off.”
“That would be awesome. He hates having a boss lady, as he calls me.”
Wade grimaced. “Well, keep an eye on him. If he doesn’t come on board soon, fire him.”
He seemed to come in peace, at least. So she teased him a little. “Listen to you, all managerial.”
“I learned a thing or two leading a platoon.” He sobered, took off his hat and looked right into her eyes. “But evidently I don’t know much about being a good neighbor. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the answer you wanted about the water. I just needed time. And honestly, I was scared.”
“Scared?” He’d always seemed so tough. It had never occurred to her that he was even familiar with that emotion. “What are you scared of?”
“Failing. I don’t know what I’m doing with the ranch, and it makes me too careful about certain things and not careful enough about others. So with the water, I just balked. I didn’t want to make a mistake that could cost me the ranch.”
“Well, I know that feeling. Too well.”
His mouth softened into a brief smile. “But I’ve realized that you were right. We should share the water.”
Relief relaxed muscles she hadn’t even realized she was tensing. She wanted to raise a fist and shout hooray, but she kept herself calm. “That’s great news. Thank you.”
“And I brought you something.” He pulled a carrot out of his back pocket, the greens still on it, and held it up like a bouquet. “I would have brought apology flowers, but I knew you’d be working and there wouldn’t be any place for them. This seemed better.”
“It’s perfect.” He understood her, and it warmed her a little inside. She turned Dakota sideways and reached for the carrot, shoving it in the back pocket of her jeans. “I’ll share it with Dakota later on, if that’s okay.”
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