Maddie Inherits a Cowboy

by Jeannie Watt

  Satisfied, she went back outside and started piling the wood into neat stacks—a small one on the porch next to the door for easy access and the rest on the tarp next to the trailer. She’d have to purchase another tarp to cover the pile, unless Ty had one, but for the moment the skies were clear.

  Madeline carried two more pieces of wood into the house and stoked the fire, then immediately went to work on the book. She made a decent amount of headway as the fire quickly warmed the house. Probably because her fingers weren’t half-frozen. Amazing what heat did for the mental processes.

  Every now and then, though, her fingers would grow still and she’d think about Ty. And the Christmas cards. Since she knew his pain, it made her heart ache.

  SHE’D STACKED THE WOOD.

  Ty had planned on piling it himself once he got back from the trip to town he’d put off for too long. For once it felt good to get off the ranch, mingle anonymously with people in the stores in Wesley, even if he could have done without the holiday joy.Well, more power to her. The house now had a twenty-four-hour heat source, and the fuel company promised delivery no later than tomorrow, so she could run the old generator twelve hours a day if she wanted to risk a breakdown. And then Madeline was on her own for however long she planned to be here.

  He wished she was on her own somewhere else.

  He’d been perpetually on edge since she’d showed up at the ranch, but now that they’d opened the subject of the wreck and she’d discovered one of his ways of dealing with it, he felt even edgier. As if his survival strategies would disintegrate under close scrutiny.

  It took almost twenty minutes to unload the truck. That was his penance for rarely leaving the ranch. He’d spent quite a bit of time at the hardware and feed store, not so much at the grocery store, which had been his last stop. When he’d gotten there he’d been tired and anxious to get home, so he’d bought only the bare essentials, planning to stock up at a later date at Anne McKirk’s mercantile. Now, as he opened a microwave dinner, he kind of wished he’d bought more.

  After eating, he grabbed an oil filter and a gallon jug of 15W-40 to service his generator. He had time before the light faded, and it would keep his mind busy.

  The generator house was just large enough to hold the machine and the guy working on it, with a little room for Alvin if he curled up in the corner. Alvin chose to stay outside on the path and watch for coyotes, who were sneaking in closer now that food was scarce in the snow.

  Ty removed the faceplate from the machine, then sat on the frigid concrete slab and started to work with his socket wrench. Two seconds later a shadow fell across the machine. He didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder. Unless Alvin had grown several inches, or one of the cows had gotten out, it had to be Madeline.

  She stood silently behind him as he worked, and he felt ultra-aware of her. Was she here to hash things out? If so, what things? Christmas cards, or ranching, or what?

  His fingers were stiff and clumsy from the cold, and having her watch every move he made wasn’t helping his dexterity. He dropped a nut, found it next to his leg, then tried to thread it back onto the bolt again.

  “How often do you have to service these machines?”

  He was relieved that she finally spoke. “Every three hundred hours of operation.”

  “Frequently, then.”

  “About once a month.” He looked over his shoulder. She was standing in the doorway, hands in her pockets and a stocking cap on her head. For once he had no idea what she was thinking or why she was there. He reached for the wrench and went back to work.

  “Thank you for the wood.”

  “No problem.” He tightened a bolt.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “I’ll take it out of the ranch funds.”

  “Mind if I watch?”

  “Knock yourself out,” he said without looking at her. The concrete was getting cold under his ass and he still had to drain the oil. “Are you here for any other reason?”

  “Some questions about the ranch, but I can wait until you’re done.”

  Fine. As long as they stuck to talking about the ranch, he’d play ball. The minute she eased into personal territory—conversation over.

  MADELINE WATCHED TY work on the machine, his bare hands turning red from the cold. When he finished he pulled his gloves back on and picked up the container of used oil and the old oil filter.

  “Do you recycle?”He led her around to the back of the generator building and showed her how he poured the used oil into a drum. “I take the drums to the plant in Reno once a year.

  I collect a couple barrels with all the machinery.”

  She liked knowing that he ran a clean operation.

  They walked to the barn together. Ty opened the door, gesturing for her to go in ahead of him. Alvin waited behind him, apparently afraid of being locked in an enclosed space with her again. Once Ty came through, the dog followed.

  “I’m curious,” she said, watching him cut open a hay bale, then fill a manger. “You’re following Skip’s business plan, but the economy has changed. So…”

  Now that she was looking for it, she could sense the change in him when she mentioned her brother’s name.

  She leaned a shoulder against the straw stack, which she’d already learned wasn’t as bristly as the haystack.

  “I’ve adjusted accordingly. Skip’s plan had more immediate expansion, but I’ve cut back for now. In fact, I’ve brought us close to the point Skip and I started at.”

  “You’ve been putting enough money back into the place that you’re barely breaking even,” she pointed out.

  “In this economy that’s not bad. A lot of bigger operations are losing money.” For once he didn’t seem to take offense at her questioning his business practices. Perhaps it was the way she was doing it… “If I don’t put money into the place, it’s going to get away from me, but for the past four months, I haven’t reinvested anything.” A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I didn’t want to lose money, you see.”

  Ty took a pitchfork out of a bale and started forking the soiled bedding into a wheelbarrow. “I,” he said, stabbing the fork into the straw with more force than was probably necessary, “have done everything possible to break even. I’ve culled stock to reduce feeding costs. I’ve stopped overall ranch improvements temporarily, which is why the roof on the equipment shed isn’t finished.” Ah, the hole in the corner where the snow was accumulating. He flung a forkful of straw into the barrow, and then another. “I haven’t taken any kind of a salary.”

  “You’ve taken no salary.”

  He stopped tossing straw for a moment and leaned on the pitchfork. “I’ve bought food, paid the utilities and fuel bills. Other than that, no. Nothing in savings, or retirement. I haven’t bought so much as a pair of Wranglers in the past year.”

  Well, that explained the rather fascinating wear patterns she’d noticed.

  “Any more questions?” Ty asked stiffly. Had he followed the direction of her thoughts? She rather hoped not.

  The cow stamped a hoof as she dealt with a frustrating clump of hay. They turned in unison to look at her and she stamped again. A front foot. The back end of her didn’t budge.

  “If she doesn’t get better soon, then…?” Madeline made a slicing gesture across her throat.

  “’Fraid so.” Ty’s dark eyes met hers and she thought she saw regret. “Sad.”

  “This is a ranch, Madeline.” From the way he spoke, she wondered if he’d heard those words himself a long time ago.

  Ty stuck the fork back into the bale, then filled the cow’s water container as Madeline considered the harsh reality of ranch life. Yes, she ate meat. Yes, she knew where that meat came from. She just wasn’t used to staring her dinner in the eye.

  When Ty had finished tending to the cow, she said, “Would you mind giving me a schedule of operations for the ranch and a copy of all the financial stuff I didn’t see during our meeting? For my grandmother?”

>   “You mean the meeting where you told me you were going to sell the ranch?”

  “Yes,” Madeline replied evenly, her gaze shifting down to his mouth. “That meeting.” She forced her eyes upward.

  Nothing had changed between them, other than her new insight into the hell he seemed to be going through. But because of that, she was going to make an effort to be patient. Put their relationship on friendlier ground, so that when they did have to make mutual business decisions, it wasn’t a battlefield.

  She might even see what she could do to make herself an ally rather than an enemy. Ty looked as if he could use an ally.

  “Come by the house in about an hour,” Ty said. “After I’ve had time to wash the oil off and change. We’ll go over the stuff then.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  MADELINE SHOWED UP exactly an hour later with what was left of Anne’s wine. Ty let her into his house and she set the bottle at the center of the table.

  “You’re kidding,” he said, eyeing the bottle, which was well more than half-full. He would have thought she’d learned her lesson.“Between the two of us we should be fine.” When Ty frowned, she added, “I didn’t think it would hurt to relax as we talk.”

  Relaxing was not what he had in mind. Ty regarded her for a moment, still frowning, then went to the cup board and pulled down two small jelly jars.

  “I’m a bachelor,” he said when her eyebrows went up as he set one in front of where she stood next to the table.

  “Even bachelors have glassware,” she replied, taking a seat.

  “Not this one.” He uncorked the wine and poured each of them half a jar, with the objective of keeping his wits about him. Anne’s wine had an alcohol content that was beyond the legal limit. “Maybe before we start, I’d like to set a few ground rules.”

  “What kind of ground rules?”

  “We stick to ranch business.”

  “As opposed to…?” Madeline asked innocently.

  He narrowed his eyes, but instead of replying, pulled a sheaf of papers off the counter.

  “Let’s take a look at what happened over the past two years.” Madeline nodded, shifting her chair closer as Ty started explaining the figures on the sheets. When he was done and she assured him she understood enough to withstand a grilling from her grandmother, she asked about the yearly schedule of operations. Again he reached over to the counter, only this time retrieved a calendar with the red-and-white-checkered Purina design on the bottom.

  “Everything you need to know is here. You can even make a copy for your grandmother.”

  MADELINE COULDN’T help it. She laughed. The thought of handing Eileen a copy of a Purina calendar and telling her it was the basis of the ranch operations…well, perhaps then her grandmother would see the wisdom of putting the place on the market.

  “And this is funny why?” Ty asked, leaning back in his chair and reaching for his jelly glass.Madeline refrained from asking why he didn’t use a computer for scheduling, and instead flipped through the months, reading the notations in various squares. Vaccinations, bulls released, branding, preg checks.

  A.I.

  “A.I.?” she asked, raising her eyes.

  “Artificial insemination. I’m adjusting the breeding program and didn’t want to buy another bull. Semen is cheaper.”

  “I see.” Where did he get the semen and how…? She shook off the thought and continued to read, taking her time. Some months were packed with notations, while others, the winter months, had markedly fewer.

  “I note all the sales on there, but they’re also in the records I send to your accountant.”

  Madeline nodded as she read. “Do you lose many calves?”

  “No, thankfully. When you feed a cow all year and then get nothing for your money, it’s bad. Financially, that is. A lot of expenditure and no return on your money.”

  Madeline glanced up, and for once Ty expanded on his answer without being prodded. “If I have a cow that doesn’t produce two years in a row, or that has calving difficulties, I send her down the road.”

  “Down the road?”

  Ty slid a finger across his throat.

  “Oh.”

  “We can’t afford charity in this business.”

  “The cow in the sling?”

  “Is a good producer. I’m hoping this is a onetime thing. Sam says it’s possible, so I’ll give her another year.”

  So the rancher had a heart. Madeline asked a few more questions about the calendar, then, since there was a printer-scanner sitting on the desk in the living room, she asked if he could make her a copy. It would help her explain matters to her grandmother. Not what Skip had found so fascinating, but how the ranch worked.

  She settled back in her chair, raised her glass to her lips. It was almost empty, and when she put it back down, Ty automatically poured. She really did like his hands. They were wide and strong. Capable looking. What were they capable of?

  “I’ll study the calendar more closely when I get home tonight. I want to know what all the equipment is and what it does. How much each costs a year to keep and maintain.”

  “All right.”

  “Could you can show me around after we feed tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll need help tomorrow.” He sounded certain that he wouldn’t.

  Madeline took another drink. “I think you will,” she assured him.

  “Maybe you’re wrong.”

  “Maybe I’m tired of spending all my time snowbound in my house.”

  He smiled. “Maybe you should go back to New York.” His eyes held hers in a way that made her very aware of it being just the two of them, here, alone.

  “Maybe my lawyer would kill me,” Madeline said, glancing at the bottle, which produced such interesting effects on both of their inhibitions. The hand-lettered label on the bottle read Amuma.

  “Basque for grandmother,” Ty said, answering her un-asked question. Madeline couldn’t think of anyone less grandmotherly than Anne McKirk, who she suspected made this wine. “Why would your lawyer kill you?”

  “Because—” she pressed her lips together momentarily before admitting the hard truth “—I’ve been driving him crazy.”

  “No!” Ty replied, deadpan.

  “It’s true. When I have an idea I call him.” She rather appreciated the glimmer of humor she saw in Ty’s expression. It was gone too soon. “I have good ideas.”

  “Like this wine, for instance.”

  “Like this wine,” she agreed. One glass had given her a faint and pleasant buzz, but nothing like her last buzz after two much larger glasses. “This is the most relaxed conversation we’ve ever had.”

  “You’re right.” He idly moved his glass in a small circle on the table, watching the wine swirl before he looked up at her. “Tell me about your job. What happened?”

  Normally Madeline would have instantly tensed at the mention of her job, but right now, thanks to Amuma, she didn’t. Yes, this wine was good stuff. “I’m collateral damage.”

  “Not involved at all.”

  “Only by association. I worked with Dr. Jensen up until a year ago. He’s the one being sued, along with the college, for using blood samples he wasn’t authorized to use.”

  “I read the articles. Can’t really blame the people for suing.”

  “I don’t. I just don’t like being accused for no other reason than association.”

  “It seems kind of harsh to me, suspending you just because you worked with someone, even if your department head has it in for you.”

  “I don’t know that for a fact,” Madeline admitted. “But I have worked very closely with Dr. Jensen. He was my major professor and my mentor. He helped me get my job at the college.”

  “Has he tried to exonerate you?”

  She wished. “He can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there are other circumstances.”

  Ty regarded her for a long moment. “Such as?”

 
; “I don’t know,” Madeline admitted. “Legal circumstances. His lawyer won’t let him talk to me or about me before the hearing, so…” She shrugged. “There you go.”

  “Guilty until proven innocent.”

  “It seems that way.” Madeline pulled the calendar toward her again. “So you’re following Skip’s business plan and the calendar explains everything.”

  “Will that satisfy your grandmother?”

  Madeline met his eyes squarely. “It’ll help. I think all she really needs is a little more time to get used to the idea of severing this last link to Skip. She has to come to understand that the ranch isn’t Skip.”

  Ty was working to show no reaction to what she’d just said, but the very fact that he refused to show emotion when Skip’s name was mentioned was telling.

  “Ty,” she said gently. “It was an accident.”

  He contemplated the glass in his hand, then his mouth tightened as he pulled in a deep, audible breath. He exhaled without saying a word. A second later he emptied the last of his wine, setting the glass on the table with a thump. His expression was once again coolly impassive.

  Apparently Amuma had limited powers.

  TY CLOSED THE DOOR behind Madeline and went back into the kitchen, which felt oddly empty now that she was gone. He picked up the bottle of Amuma, considered drinking the last few swallows, then upended the bottle and drained it down the sink. He didn’t need more wine. He needed…hell, he didn’t know what.

  Things were certainly easier when he was alone and people like Madeline weren’t poking at wounds that needed to be left untouched.Did he deserve to have things easy? To heal? Could he heal? Maybe not.

  Having Madeline here made his situation more difficult. Complex. He was drawn to her, pure and simple. And that wasn’t going to work the way he was now.