The Rancher

The Rancher Diana Palmer New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Diana Palmer brings her readers back to Branntville, Texas, with Cort Brannt's story. The heir to the Skylance Ranch empire has women gallop into his life, but the handsome lone wolf sends them just as quickly on their way…until a pretty, vivacious neighbor appears on the range. Has the most eligible bachelor in Branntville met his match? DAYS ARE HOT ON SKYLANCE RANCH, AND THE NIGHTS EVEN HOTTER! New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Diana Palmer brings her readers back to Branntville, Texas, with Cort Brannt’s story. The heir to the Skylance Ranch empire has women gallop into his life, but the handsome lone wolf sends them just as quickly on their way…until a pretty, vivacious neighbor appears on the range. Has the most eligible bachelor in Branntville met his match? Praise for the novels of New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Diana Palmer “Palmer demonstrates, yet again, why she’s the queen of desperado quests for justice and true love.” —Publishers Weekly on Dangerous “The popular Palmer has penned another winning novel, a perfect blend of romance and suspense.” —Booklist on Lawman “Palmer knows how to make the sparks fly…heartwarming.” —Publishers Weekly on Renegade “Diana Palmer is a mesmerizing storyteller who captures the essence of what a romance should be.” —Affaire de Coeur Dear Reader, You probably think this book is about Cort Brannt, the brother of my heroine, Morie Brannt, in my mass-market Wyoming series called Wyoming Tough. Well, it’s not. It’s actually about the rooster who belongs to Cort’s neighbor. A red rooster came into my yard several weeks ago. I tried to run him off, but he kept coming back. I discovered that roosters can fly, because he jumped a seven-foot high solid wooden fence to keep coming into my yard. I have lots of grass and a garden, which means bugs and worms and nice edibles. He wouldn’t leave. Over the weeks, people who work for me in the yard tried to catch him. Some of the neighbors got into the act. I especially wanted him gone because every time I went out to feed the birds or look at my garden, he would attack me. I was spurred three times, and I have the scars to prove it. So the rooster had to go. That presented a problem. I didn’t want him killed or eaten, which left his fate up to me, since his owner apparently moved away and left him behind (I don’t blame him. If you knew this rooster, you wouldn’t blame him, either!) Our nice Mr. Martin, who looks after the koi and goldfish ponds for us, had a friend who knew how to catch chickens. He also kept chickens. So he just walked into the backyard, picked the rooster up and carried him off. My jaw is still dropping. Anyway, the rooster is very happy, has many hens to court, and I am happy because I can walk to my pumpkin patch without being mauled on the way. Cort Brannt is going to have the same problem. His nice little frumpy neighbor has a pet rooster named Pumpkin and she loves him. She loves Cort, too, but Cort loves Odalie Everett who wants to train as a soprano and sing in the great opera houses of the world. Ah, the eternal triangle. It will all end well, I promise. And Pumpkin will have a happy future. Just like my unwanted red rooster visitor. Hope you like the book. It has roots in Branntville, Texas, and spins off from one of my first romance novels, To Love and Cherish. King Brannt is Cort’s dad. Your greatest fan, Diana Palmer The Rancher Diana Palmer www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) Contents Chapter One (#u8ecc454a-db5d-562a-b009-a4341e2b9148) Chapter Two (#u3dae6d53-be25-520b-9acf-99a69da832e2) Chapter Three (#u303a1215-a521-5bca-a6a5-cafe845b74b3) Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One Maddie Lane was worried. She was standing in her big yard, looking at her chickens, and all she saw was a mixture of hens. There were red ones and white ones and gray speckled ones. But they were all hens. Someone was missing: her big Rhode Island Red rooster, Pumpkin. She knew where he likely was. It made her grind her teeth together. There was going to be trouble, again, and she was going to be on the receiving end of it. She pushed back her short, wavy blond hair and grimaced. Her wide gray eyes searched the yard, hoping against hope that she was mistaken, that Pumpkin had only gone in search of bugs, not cowboys. “Pumpkin?” she called loudly. Great-Aunt Sadie came to the door. She was slight and a little dumpy, with short, thin gray hair, wearing glasses and a worried look. “I saw him go over toward the Brannt place, Maddie,” she said as she moved out onto the porch. “I’m sorry.” Maddie groaned aloud. “I’ll have to go after him. Cort will kill me!” “Well, he hasn’t so far,” Sadie replied gently. “And he could have shot Pumpkin, but he didn’t...” “Only because he missed!” Maddie huffed. She sighed and put her hands on her slim hips. She had a boyish figure. She wasn’t tall or short, just sort of in the middle. But she was graceful, for all that. And she could work on a ranch, which she did. Her father had taught her how to raise cattle, how to market them, how to plan and how to budget. Her little ranch wasn’t anything big or special, but she made a little money. Things had been going fine until she decided she wanted to branch out her organic egg-laying business and bought Pumpkin after her other rooster was killed by a coyote, along with several hens. But now things weren’t so great financially. Maddie had worried about getting a new rooster. Her other one wasn’t really vicious, but she did have to carry a tree branch around with her to keep from getting spurred. She didn’t want another aggressive one. “Oh, he’s gentle as a lamb,” the former owner assured her. “Great bloodlines, good breeder, you’ll get along just fine with him!” Sure, she thought when she put him in the chicken yard and his first act was to jump on her foreman, old Ben Harrison, when he started to gather eggs. “Better get rid of him now,” Ben had warned as she doctored the cuts on his arms the rooster had made even through the fabric. “He’ll settle down, he’s just excited about being in a new place,” Maddie assured him. Looking back at that conversation now, she laughed. Ben had been right. She should have sent the rooster back to the vendor in a shoebox. But she’d gotten attached to the feathered assassin. Sadly, Cort Brannt hadn’t. Cort Matthew Brannt was every woman’s dream of the perfect man. He was tall, muscular without making it obvious, cultured, and he could play a guitar like a professional. He had jet-black hair with a slight wave, large dark brown eyes and a sensuous mouth that Maddie often dreamed of kissing. The problem was that Cort was in love with their other neighbor, Odalie Everett. Odalie was the daughter of big-time rancher Cole Everett and his wife, Heather, who was a former singer and songwriter. She had two brothers, John and Tanner. John still lived at home, but Tanner lived in Europe. Nobody talked about him. Odalie loved grand opera. She had her mother’s clear, beautiful voice and she wanted to be a professional soprano. That meant specialized training. Cort wanted to marry Odalie, who couldn’t see him for dust. She’d gone off to Italy to study with some famous voice trainer. Cort was distraught and it didn’t help that Maddie’s rooster kept showing up in his yard and attacking him without warning. “I can’t understand why he wants to go all the way over there to attack Cort,” Maddie said aloud. “I mean, we’ve got cowboys here!” “Cort threw a rake at him the last time he came over here to look at one of your yearling bulls,” Sadie reminded her. “I throw things at him all the time,” Maddie pointed out. “Yes, but Cort chased him around the yard, picked him up by his feet, and carried him out to the hen yard to show him to the hens. Hurt his pride,” Sadie continued. “He’s getting even.” “You think so?” “Roosters are unpredictable. That particular one,” she added with a bite in her voice that was very out of character, “should have been chicken soup!” “Great-Aunt Sadie!” “Just telling you the way it is,” Sadie huffed. “My brother—your granddaddy—would have killed him the first time he spurred you.” Maddie smiled. “I guess he would. I don’t like killing things. Not even mean roosters.” “Cort would kill him for you if he could shoot straight,” Sadie said with veiled contempt. “You load that .28 gauge shotgun in the closet for me, and I’ll do it.” “Great-Aunt Sadie!” She made a face. “Stupid thing. I wanted to pet the hens and he ran me all the way into the house. Pitiful, when a chicken can terrorize a whole ranch. You go ask Ben how he feels about that red rooster. I dare you. If you’d let him, he’d run a truck over it!” Maddie sighed. “I guess Pumpkin is a terror. Well, maybe Cort will deal with him once and for all and I can go get us a nice rooster.” “In my experience, no such thing,” the older woman said. “And about Cort dealing with him...” She nodded toward the highway. Maddie grimaced. A big black ranch truck turned off the highway and came careening down the road toward the house. It was obviously being driven by a maniac. The truck screeched to a stop at the front porch, sending chickens running for cover in the hen yard because of the noise. “Great,” Maddie muttered. “Now they’ll stop laying for two days because he’s terrified them!” “Better worry about yourself,” Great-Aunt Sadie said. “Hello, Cort! Nice to see you,” she added with a wave and ran back into the house, almost at a run. Maddie bit off what she was going to say about traitors. She braced herself as a tall, lean, furious cowboy in jeans, boots, a chambray shirt and a black Stetson cocked over one eye came straight toward her. She knew what the set of that hat meant. He was out for blood. “I’m sorry!” she said at once, raising her hands, palms out. “I’ll do something about him, I promise!” “Andy landed in a cow patty,” he raged in his deep voice. “That’s nothing compared to what happened to the others while we were chasing him. I went headfirst into the dipping tray!” She wouldn’t laugh, she wouldn’t laugh, she wouldn’t... “Oh, hell, stop that!” he raged while she bent over double at the mental image of big, handsome Cort lying facedown in the stinky stuff they dipped cattle in to prevent disease. “I’m sorry. Really!” She forced herself to stop laughing. She wiped her wet eyes and tried to look serious. “Go ahead, keep yelling at me. Really. It’s okay.” “Your stupid rooster is going to feed my ranch hands if you don’t keep him at home!” he said angrily. “Oh, my, chance would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it?” she asked wistfully. “I mean, I guess I could hire an off-duty army unit to come out here and spend the next week trying to run him down.” She gave him a droll look. “If you and your men can’t catch him, how do you expect me to catch him?” “I caught him the first day he was here,” he reminded her. “Yes, but that was three months ago,” she pointed out. “And he’d just arrived. Now he’s learned evasion techniques.” She frowned. “I wonder if they’ve ever thought of using roosters as attack animals for the military? I should suggest it to someone.” “I’d suggest you find some way to keep him at home before I resort to the courts.” “You’d sue me over a chicken?” she exclaimed. “Wow, what a headline that would be. Rich, Successful Rancher Sues Starving, Female Small-Rancher for Rooster Attack. Wouldn’t your dad love reading that headline in the local paper?” she asked with a bland smile. His expression was growing so hard that his high cheekbones stood out. “One more flying red feather attack and I’ll risk it. I’m not kidding.” “Oh, me, neither.” She crossed her heart. “I’ll have the vet prescribe some tranquilizers for Pumpkin to calm him down,” she said facetiously. She frowned. “Ever thought about asking your family doctor for some? You look very stressed.” “I’m stressed because your damned rooster keeps attacking me! On my own damned ranch!” he raged. “Well, I can see that it’s a stressful situation to be in,” she sympathized. “With him attacking you, and all.” She knew it would make him furious, but she had to know. “I hear Odalie Everett went to Italy.” The anger grew. Now it was cold and threatening. “Since when is Odalie of interest to you?” “Just passing on the latest gossip.” She peered at him through her lashes. “Maybe you should study opera...” “You venomous little snake,” he said furiously. “As if you could sing a note that wasn’t flat!” She colored. “I could sing if I wanted to!” He looked her up and down. “Sure. And get suddenly beautiful with it?” The color left her face. “You’re too thin, too flat-chested, too plain and too untalented to ever appeal to me, just in case you wondered,” he added with unconcealed distaste. She drew herself up to her full height, which only brought the top of her head to his chin, and stared at him with ragged dignity. “Thank you. I was wondering why men don’t come around. It’s nice to know the reason.” Her damaged pride hit him soundly, and he felt small. He shifted from one big booted foot to the other. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said after a minute. She turned away. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him. Her sudden vulnerability hurt him. He started after her. “Listen, Madeline,” he began. She whirled on her booted heel. Her pale eyes shot fire at him. Her exquisite complexion went ruddy. Beside her thighs, her hands were clenched. “You think you’re God’s gift to women, don’t you? Well, let me tell you a thing or two! You’ve traded on your good looks for years to get you what you want, but it didn’t get you Odalie, did it?” His face went stony. “Odalie is none of your damned business,” he said in a soft, dangerous tone. “Looks like she’s none of yours, either,” she said spitefully. “Or she’d never have left you.” He turned around and stomped back to his truck. “And don’t you dare roar out of my driveway and scare my hens again!” He slammed the door, started the truck and deliberately gunned the engine as he roared out toward the main highway. “Three days they won’t lay, now,” Maddie said to herself. She turned, miserable, and went up the porch steps. Her pride was never going to heal from that attack. She’d had secret feelings for Cort since she was sixteen. He’d never noticed her, of course, not even to tease her as men sometimes did. He simply ignored her existence most of the time, when her rooster wasn’t attacking him. Now she knew why. Now she knew what he really thought of her. Great-Aunt Sadie was waiting by the porch screen door. She was frowning. “No call for him to say that about you,” she muttered. “Conceited man!” Maddie fought tears and lost. Great-Aunt Sadie wrapped her up tight and hugged her. “Don’t you believe what he said. He was just mad and looking for a way to hurt you because you mentioned his precious Odalie. She’s too good for any cowboy. At least, she thinks she is.” “She’s beautiful and rich and talented. But so is Cort,” Maddie choked out. “It really would have been a good match, to pair the Everett’s Big Spur ranch with Skylance, the Brannt ranch. What a merger that would be.” “Except that Odalie doesn’t love Cort and she probably never will.” “She may come home with changed feelings,” Maddie replied, drawing away. “She might have a change of heart. He’s always been around, sending her flowers, calling her. All that romantic stuff. The sudden stop might open her eyes to what a catch he is.” “You either love somebody or you don’t,” the older woman said quietly. “You think?” “I’ll make you a nice pound cake. That will cheer you up.” “Thanks. That’s sweet of you.” She wiped her eyes. “Well, at least I’ve lost all my illusions. Now I can just deal with my ranch and stop mooning over a man who thinks he’s too good for me.” “No man is too good for you, sweetheart,” Great-Aunt Sadie said gently. “You’re pure gold. Don’t you ever let anyone tell you different.” She smiled. * * * When she went out late in the afternoon to put her hens in their henhouse to protect them from overnight predators, Pumpkin was right where he should be—back in the yard. “You’re going to get me sued, you red-feathered problem child,” she muttered. She was carrying a small tree branch and a metal garbage can lid as she herded her hens into the large chicken house. Pumpkin lowered his head and charged her, but he bounced off the lid. “Get in there, you fowl assassin,” she said, evading and turning on him. He ran into the henhouse. She closed the door behind him and latched it, leaned back against it with a sigh. “Need to get rid of that rooster, Miss Maddie,” Ben murmured as he walked by. “Be delicious with some dumplings.” “I’m not eating Pumpkin!” He shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ll eat him for you.” “I’m not feeding him to you, either, Ben.” He made a face and kept walking. She went inside to wash her hands and put antibiotic cream on the places where her knuckles were scraped from using the garbage can lid. She looked at her hands under the running water. They weren’t elegant hands. They had short nails and they were functional, not pretty. She remembered Odalie Everett’s long, beautiful white fingers on the keyboard at church, because Odalie could play as well as she sang. The woman was gorgeous, except for her snobbish attitude. No wonder Cort was in love with her. Maddie looked in the mirror on the medicine cabinet above the sink and winced. She really was plain, she thought. Of course, she never used makeup or perfume, because she worked from dawn to dusk on the ranch. Not that makeup would make her beautiful, or give her bigger breasts or anything like that. She was basically just pleasant to look at, and Cort wanted beauty, brains and talent. “I guess you’ll end up an old spinster with a rooster who terrorizes the countryside.” The thought made her laugh. She thought of photographing Pumpkin and making a giant Wanted poster, with the legend, Wanted: Dead or Alive. She could hardly contain herself at the image that presented itself if she offered some outlandish reward. Men would wander the land with shotguns, looking for a small red rooster. “Now you’re getting silly,” she told her image, and went back to work. * * * Cort Brannt slammed out of his pickup truck and into the ranch house, flushed with anger and self-contempt. His mother, beautiful Shelby Brannt, glanced up as he passed the living room. “Wow,” she murmured. “Cloudy and looking like rain.” He paused and glanced at her. He grimaced, retraced his steps, tossed his hat onto the sofa and sat down beside her. “Yeah.” “That rooster again, huh?” she teased. His dark eyes widened. “How did you guess?” She tried to suppress laughter and lost. “Your father came in here bent over double, laughing his head off. He said half the cowboys were ready to load rifles and go rooster-hunting about the time you drove off. He wondered if we might need to find legal representation for you...?” “I didn’t shoot her,” he said. He shrugged his powerful shoulders and let out a long sigh, his hands dangling between his splayed legs as he stared at the carpet. “But I said some really terrible things to her.” Shelby put down the European fashion magazine she’d been reading. In her younger days, she had been a world-class model before she married King Brannt. “Want to talk about it, Matt?” she asked gently. “Cort,” he corrected with a grin. She sighed. “Cort. Listen, your dad and I were calling you Matt until you were teenager, so it’s hard...” “Yes, well, you were calling Morie ‘Dana,’ too, weren’t you?” Shelby laughed. “It was an inside-joke. I’ll tell it to you one day.” She smiled. “Come on. Talk to me.” His mother could always take the weight off his shoulders. He’d never been able to speak so comfortably about personal things to his father, although he loved the older man dearly. He and his mother were on the same wavelength. She could almost read his mind. “I was pretty mad,” he confessed. “And she was cracking jokes about that stupid rooster. Then she made a crack about Odalie and I just, well, I just lost it.” Odalie, she knew, was a sore spot with her son. “I’m sorry about the way things worked out, Cort,” she said gently. “But there’s always hope. Never lose sight of that.” “I sent her roses. Serenaded her. Called her just to talk. Listened to her problems.” He looked up. “None of that mattered. That Italian voice trainer gave her an invitation and she got on the next plane to Rome.” “She wants to sing. You know that. You’ve always known it. Her mother has the voice of an angel, too.” “Yes, but Heather never wanted fame. She wanted Cole Everett,” he pointed out with a faint smile. “That was one hard case of a man,” Shelby pointed out. “Like your father.” She shook her head. “We had a very, very rocky road to the altar. And so did Heather and Cole.” She continued pensively. “You and Odalie’s brother, John Everett, were good friends for a while. What happened there?” “His sister happened,” Cort replied. “She got tired of having me at their place all the time playing video games with John and was very vocal about it, so he stopped inviting me over. I invited him here, but he got into rodeo and then I never saw him much. We’re still friends, in spite of everything.” “He’s a good fellow.” “Yeah.” Shelby got up, ruffled his hair and grinned. “You’re a good fellow, too.” He laughed softly. “Thanks.” “Try not to dwell so much on things,” she advised. “Sit back and just let life happen for a while. You’re so intense, Cort. Like your dad,” she said affectionately, her dark eyes soft on his face. “One day Odalie may discover that you’re the sun in her sky and come home. But you have to let her try her wings. She’s traveled, but only with her parents. This is her first real taste of freedom. Let her enjoy it.” “Even if she messes up her life with that Italian guy?” “Even then. It’s her life,” she reminded him gently. “You don’t like people telling you what to do, even if it’s for your own good, right?” He glowered at her. “If you’re going to mention that time you told me not to climb up the barn roof and I didn’t listen...” “Your first broken arm,” she recalled, and pursed her lips. “And I didn’t even say I told you so,” she reminded him. “No. You didn’t.” He stared at his linked fingers. “Maddie Lane sets me off. But I should never have said she was ugly and no man would want her.” “You said that?” she exclaimed, wincing. “Cort...!” “I know.” He sighed. “Not my finest moment. She’s not a bad person. It’s just she gets these goofy notions about animals. That rooster is going to hurt somebody bad one day, maybe put an eye out, and she thinks it’s funny.” “She doesn’t realize he’s dangerous,” she replied. “She doesn’t want to realize it. She’s in over her head with these expansion projects. Cage-free eggs. She hasn’t got the capital to go into that sort of operation, and she’s probably already breaking half a dozen laws by selling them to restaurants.” “She’s hurting for money,” Shelby reminded somberly. “Most ranchers are, even us. The drought is killing us. But Maddie only has a few head of cattle and she can’t buy feed for them if her corn crop dies. She’ll have to sell at a loss. Her breeding program is already losing money.” She shook her head. “Her father was a fine rancher. He taught your father things about breeding bulls. But Maddie just doesn’t have the experience. She jumped in at the deep end when her father died, but it was by necessity, not choice. I’m sure she’d much rather be drawing pictures than trying to produce calves.” “Drawing.” He said it with contempt. She stared at him. “Cort, haven’t you ever noticed that?” She indicated a beautiful rendering in pastels of a fairy in a patch of daisies in an exquisite frame on the wall. He glanced at it. “Not bad. Didn’t you get that at an art show last year?” “I got it from Maddie last year. She drew it.” He frowned. He actually got up and went to look at the piece. “She drew that?” he asked. “Yes. She was selling two pastel drawings at the art show. This was one of them. She sculpts, too—beautiful little fairies—but she doesn’t like to show those to people. I told her she should draw professionally, perhaps in graphic design or even illustration. She laughed. She doesn’t think she’s good enough.” She sighed. “Maddie is insecure. She has one of the poorest self-images of anyone I know.” Cort knew that. His lips made a thin line. He felt even worse after what he’d said to her. “I should probably call and apologize,” he murmured. “That’s not a bad idea, son,” she agreed. “And then I should drive over there, hide in the grass and shoot that damned red-feathered son of a...!” “Cort!” He let out a harsh breath. “Okay. I’ll call her.” “Roosters don’t live that long,” she called after him. “He’ll die of old age before too much longer.” “With my luck, he’ll hit fifteen and keep going. Animals that nasty never die!” he called back. * * * He wanted to apologize to Maddie. But when he turned on his cell phone, he realized that he didn’t even know her phone number. He tried to look it up on the internet, but couldn’t find a listing. He went back downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen. “Do you know the Lanes’ phone number?” he asked. She blinked. “Well, no. I don’t think I’ve ever tried to call them, not since Pierce Lane died last year, anyway.” “No number listed, anywhere,” he said. “You might drive by there later in the week,” she suggested gently. “It’s not that far.” He hesitated. “She’d lock the doors and hide inside when I drove up,” he predicted. His mother didn’t know what to say. He was probably right. “I need to get away,” he said after a minute. “I’m wired like a piano. I need to get away from the rooster and Odalie and...everything.” “Why don’t you go to Wyoming and visit your sister?” she suggested. He sighed. “She’s not expecting me until Thursday.” She laughed. “She won’t care. Go early. It would do both of you good.” “It might at that.” “It won’t take you long to fly up there,” she added. “You can use the corporate jet. I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind. He misses Morie. So do I.” “Yeah, I miss her, too,” he said. He hugged his mother. “I’ll go pack a bag. If that rooster shows up looking for me, put him on a plane to France, would you? I hear they love chicken over there. Get him a business-class ticket. If someone can ship a lobster from Maine,” he added with a laugh, referring to a joke that had gone the rounds years before, “I can ship a chicken to France.” “I’ll take it under advisement,” she promised. * * * His mother was right, Cort thought that evening. He loved being with his sister. He and Morie were a lot alike, from their hot tempers to their very Puritan attitudes. They’d always been friends. When she was just five, she’d followed her big brother around everywhere, to the amusement of his friends. Cort was tolerant and he adored her. He never minded the kidding. “I’m sorry about your rooster problems,” Morie told him with a gentle laugh. “Believe me, we can understand. My poor sister-in-law has fits with ours.” “I like Bodie,” he said, smiling. “Cane sure seems different these days.” “He is. He’s back in therapy, he’s stopped smashing bars and he seems to have settled down for good. Bodie’s wonderful for him. She and Cane have had some problems, but they’re mostly solved now,” she said. She smiled secretly. “Actually, Bodie and I are going to have a lot more in common for the next few months.” Cort was quick. He glanced at her in the semidarkness of the front porch, with fireflies darting around. “A baby?” She laughed with pure delight. “A baby,” she said, and her voice was like velvet. “I only found out a little while ago. Bodie found out the day you showed up.” She sighed. “So much happiness. It’s almost too much to bear. Mal’s over the moon.” “Is it a boy or a girl? Do you know yet?” She shook her head. “Too early to tell. But we’re not going to ask. We want it to be a surprise, however old-fashioned that might be.” He chuckled. “I’m going to be an uncle. Wow. That’s super. Have you told Mom and Dad?” “Not yet. I’ll call Mom tonight, though.” “She’ll be so excited. Her first grandchild.” Morie glanced at him. “You ever going to get married?” she asked. “Sure, if Odalie ever says yes.” He sighed. “She was warming up to me there just for a while. Then that Italian fellow came along and offered her voice training. He’s something of a legend among opera stars. And that’s what she wants, to sing at the Met.” He grimaced. “Just my luck, to fall in love with a woman who only wants a career.” “I believe her mother was the same way, wasn’t she?” Morie asked gently. “And then she and Cole Everett got really close. She gave up being a professional singer to come home and have kids. Although she still composes. That Wyoming group, Desperado, had a major hit from a song she wrote for them some years ago.” “I think she still composes. But she likes living on a ranch. Odalie hates it. She says she’s never going to marry a man who smells like cow droppings.” He looked at one of his big boots, where his ankle was resting on his other knee in the rocking chair. “I’m a rancher, damn it,” he muttered. “I can’t learn another trade. Dad’s counting on me to take over when he can’t do the work anymore.” “Yes, I know,” she said sadly. “What else could you do?” “Teach, I guess,” he replied. “I have a degree in animal husbandry.” He made a face. “I’d rather be shot. I’d rather let that red-feathered assassin loose on my nose. I hate the whole idea of routine.” “Me, too,” Morie confessed. “I love ranching. I guess the drought is giving Dad problems, too, huh?” “It’s been pretty bad,” Cort agreed. “People in Oklahoma and the other plains states are having it worse, though. No rain. It’s like the Dust Bowl in the thirties, people are saying. So many disaster declarations.” “How are you getting around it?” “Wells, mostly,” he said. “We’ve drilled new ones and filled the tanks to the top. Irrigating our grain crops. Of course, we’ll still have to buy some feed through the winter. But we’re in better shape than a lot of other cattle producers. Damn, I hate how it’s going to impact small ranchers and farmers. Those huge combines will be standing in the shadows, just waiting to pounce when the foreclosures come.” “Family ranches are going to be obsolete one day, like family farms,” Morie said sadly. “Except, maybe, for the big ones, like ours.” “True words. People don’t realize how critical this really is.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “That’s why we have the National Cattleman’s Association and the state organizations,” she reminded him. “Now stop worrying. We’re going fishing tomorrow!” “Really?” he asked, delighted. “Trout?” “Yes. The water’s just cold enough, still. When it heats up too much, you can’t eat them.” She sighed. “This may be the last chance we’ll get for a while, if this heat doesn’t relent.” “Tell me about it. We hardly had winter at all in Texas. Spring was like summer, and it’s gone downhill since. I’d love to stand in a trout stream, even if I don’t catch a thing.” “Me, too.” “Does Bodie fish?” “You know, I’ve never asked. We’ll do that tomorrow. For now,” she said, rising, “I’m for bed.” She paused and hugged him. “It’s nice to have you here for a while.” “For me, too, little sis.” He hugged her back, and kissed her forehead. “See you in the morning.” Chapter Two Maddie hadn’t thought about Cort for one whole hour. She laughed at herself while she fed her hens. Pumpkin was in the henhouse, locked in for the time being, so that she could feed the chickens without having to defend herself. The laughter died away as she recalled the things Cort had said to her. She was ugly and flat-chested and he could never be attracted to her. She looked down at her slender body and frowned. She couldn’t suddenly become beautiful. She didn’t have the money to buy fancy clothes that flattered her, like Odalie did. In fact, her wardrobe was two years old. When her father had been dying of cancer, every penny they had was tied up trying to keep up with doctor bills that the insurance didn’t cover. Her father did carry life insurance, which was a lucky break because at his death, it was enough to pay back everybody. But things were still hard. This year, they’d struggled to pay just the utility bills. It was going to come down to a hard choice, sell off cattle or sell off land. There was a developer who’d already been to see Maddie about selling the ranch. He wanted to build a huge hotel and amusement park complex. He was offering her over a million dollars, and he was persistent. “You just run a few head of cattle here, don’t you?” the tall man in the expensive suit said, but his smile didn’t really reach his eyes. He was an opportunist, looking for a great deal. He thought Maddie would be a pushover once he pulled out a figure that would tempt a saint. But Maddie’s whole heritage was in that land. Her great-grandfather had started the ranch and suffered all sorts of deprivations to get it going. Her grandfather had taken over where he left off, improving both the cattle herd and the land. Her father had toiled for years to find just the right mix of grasses to pursue a purebred cattle breeding herd that was now the envy of several neighbors. All that would be gone. The cattle sold off, the productive grasslands torn up and paved for the complex, which would attract people passing by on the long, monotonous interstate highway that ran close to the border of the ranch. “I’ll have to think about it,” she told him, nodding. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, either. He pursed his lips. “You know, we’re looking at other land in the area, too. You might get left out in the cold if we find someone who’s more enthusiastic about the price we’re offering.” Maddie didn’t like threats. Even nice ones, that came with soft words and smiles. “Whatever,” she said. She smiled again. “I did say I’d have to think about it.” His smile faded, and his eyes narrowed. “You have a prime location here, only one close neighbor and a nearby interstate. I really want this place. I want it a lot.” “Listen, I hate being pressured...!” He held up both hands. “Okay! But you think about it. You think hard.” His expression became dangerous-looking. “We know how to deal with reluctant buyers. That’s not a threat, it’s just a statement. Here’s my card.” She took it gingerly, as if she thought it had germs. He made a huffing sound and climbed back into his fantastically expensive foreign car. He roared out of the driveway, scattering chickens. She glared after it. No more eggs for two more days, she thought irritably. She’d rather starve than sell the ranch. But money was getting very tight. The drought was going to be a major hit to their poor finances, she thought dismally. “Miss Maddie, you got that rooster locked up?” Ben called at the fence, interrupting her depressing reverie. She turned. “Yes, Ben, he’s restrained.” She laughed. “Thanks.” He grimaced. “Going to feed the livestock and I’d just as soon not be mauled in the process.” “I know.” She glanced at the wire door behind which Pumpkin was calling to the hens in that odd tone that roosters used when there was some special treat on the ground for them. It was actually a handful of mealworms that Maddie had tossed in the henhouse to keep him occupied while she locked him in. Two of the hens went running to the door. “He’s lying,” Maddie told them solemnly. “He’s already eaten the mealworms, he just wants out.” “Cort left town, you hear?” Ben asked. Her heart jumped. “Where did he go?” she asked miserably, waiting to hear that he’d flown to Italy to see Odalie. “Wyoming, one of his cowboys said, to see his sister.” “Oh.” “Mooning over that Odalie girl, I guess,” he muttered. “She said she hated men who smelled like cattle. I guess she hates her dad, then, because he made his fortune on the Big Spur raising cattle, and he still does!” “She’s just been spoiled,” Maddie said quietly. Ben glanced at her irritably. “She was mean to you when you were in school. Your dad actually went to the school to get it stopped. He went to see Cole Everett about it, too, didn’t he?” “Yes.” She flushed. She didn’t like remembering that situation, although Odalie had quickly stopped victimizing her after her father got involved. “Had a nasty attitude, that one,” Ben muttered. “Looked down her nose at every other girl and most of the boys. Thought she was too good to live in a hick town in Texas.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s going to come a cropper one day, you mark my words. What’s that quote, ‘pride goeth after a fall’? And she’s got a lot farther to fall than some women.” “There’s another quote, something about love your enemies?” she teased. “Yes, well, she’s given a lot of people reason to put that one into practice.” Maddie grimaced. “It must be nice, to have beauty and talent. I’d settle for one or the other myself.” She laughed. “You ought to be selling them little fairy statues you make,” he advised. “Prettiest little things I ever saw. That one you sent my granddaughter for her birthday sits in the living room, because her mother loves to look at it. One of her friends has an art gallery in San Antonio. She said,” he emphasized, “that you could make a fortune with those things.” Maddie flushed. “Wow.” “Not that those pretty drawings are bad, either. Sold one to Shelby Brannt, didn’t you?” “Yes.” She’d loved the idea of Cort having to see her artwork every day, because she knew that Shelby had mounted it on a wall in the dining room of her home. But he probably never even looked at it. Though cultured, Cort had little use for art or sculpture. Unless it was a sculpture of one of the ranch’s prize bulls. They had one done in bronze. It sat on the mantel in the living room of the Brannt home. “Ought to paint that rooster while he’s still alive,” Ben said darkly. “Ben!” He held up both hands. “Didn’t say I was going to hurt him.” “Okay.” “But somebody else might.” He pursed his lips. “You know, he could be the victim of a terrible traffic accident one day. He loves to run down that dirt road in front of the house.” “You bite your tongue,” she admonished. “Spoilsport.” “That visitor who came the other day, that developer, you see him again?” Ben asked curiously. “No, but he left his name.” She pulled his business card out of her pocket and held it up. “He’s from Las Vegas. He wants to build a hotel and amusement park complex right here.” She looked around wistfully. “Offered me a million dollars. Gosh, what I could do with that!” “You could sell and throw away everything your family worked for here?” Ben asked sadly. “My great-grandfather started working here with your great-grandfather. Our families have been together all that time.” He sighed. “Guess I could learn to use a computer and make a killing with a dot-com business,” he mused facetiously. “Aw, Ben,” she said gently. “I don’t want to sell up. I was just thinking out loud.” She smiled, and this time it was genuine. “I’d put a lot of people out of work, and God knows what I’d do with all the animals who live here.” “Especially them fancy breeding bulls and cows,” he replied. “Cort Brannt would love to get his hands on them. He’s always over here buying our calves.” “So he is.” Ben hesitated. “Heard something about that developer, that Archie Lawson fellow.” “You did? What?” “Just gossip, mind.” “So? Tell me!” she prodded. He made a face. “Well, he wanted a piece of land over around Cheyenne, on the interstate. The owner wouldn’t sell. So cattle started dying of mysterious causes. So did the owner’s dog, a big border collie he’d had for years. He hired a private investigator, and had the dog autopsied. It was poison. They could never prove it was Lawson, but they were pretty sure of it. See, he has a background in chemistry. Used to work at a big government lab, they say, before he started buying and selling land.” Her heart stopped. “Oh, dear.” She bit her lip. “He said something about knowing how to force deals...” “I’ll get a couple of my pals to keep an eye on the cattle in the outer pastures,” Ben said. “I’ll tell them to shoot first and ask questions later if they see anybody prowling around here.” “Thanks, Ben,” she said heavily. “Good heavens, as if we don’t already have enough trouble here with no rain, for God knows how long.” “Everybody’s praying for it.” He cocked his head. “I know a Cheyenne medicine man. Been friends for a couple of years. They say he can make rain.” “Well!” She hesitated. “What does he charge?” “He doesn’t. He says he has these abilities that God gave him, and if he ever takes money for it, he’ll lose it. Seems to believe it, and I hear he’s made rain at least twice in the area. If things go from bad to worse, maybe we should talk to him.” She grinned. “Let’s talk to him.” He chuckled. “I’ll give him a call later.” Her eyebrows arched. “He has a telephone?” “Miss Maddie,” he scoffed, “do you think Native American people still live in teepees and wear headdresses?” She flushed. “Of course not,” she lied. “He lives in a house just like ours, he wears jeans and T-shirts mostly and he’s got a degree in anthropology. When he’s not fossicking, they say he goes overseas with a group of mercs from Texas for top secret operations.” She was fascinated. “Really!” “He’s something of a local celebrity on the rez. He lives there.” “Could you call him and ask him to come over when he has time?” He laughed. “I’ll do that tonight.” “Even if he can’t make rain, I’d love to meet him,” she said. “He sounds very interesting.” “Take my word for it, he is. Doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s worth hearing. Well, I’ll get back to work.” “Thanks, Ben.” He smiled. “My pleasure. And don’t let that developer bully you,” he said firmly. “Maybe you need to talk to Cort’s dad and tell him what’s going on. He’s not going to like that, about the development. It’s too close to his barns. In these hard times, even the Brannts couldn’t afford to build new ones with all that high tech they use.” “Got a point. I’ll talk to him.” Maddie went back to the house. She put the feed basket absently on the kitchen counter, mentally reviewing all the things she had planned for the week. She missed Cort already. But at least it meant the rooster was likely to stay at home. He only went over to the Brannt ranch when Cort was in residence, to attack him. “Better wash those eggs and put them in the refrigerator,” Great-Aunt Sadie advised. “They’re the ones for the restaurant, aren’t they?” “Yes. Old Mr. Bailey said his customers have been raving about the taste of his egg omelets lately.” She laughed. “I’ll have to give my girls a treat for that.” Great-Aunt Sadie was frowning. “Maddie, did you ever look up the law about selling raw products?” Maddie shook her head. “I meant to. But I’m sure it’s not illegal to sell eggs. My mother did it for years before she died....” “That was a long time ago, honey. Don’t you remember that raid a few years ago on those poor farmers who were selling raw milk?” She made a face. “What sort of country do we live in? Sending an armed raid team after helpless farmers for selling milk!” Maddie felt uneasy. “I’d forgotten that.” “I hadn’t. In my day we had homemade butter and we could drink all the raw milk we wanted—didn’t have all this fancy stuff a hundred years ago and it seems to me people were a whole lot healthier.” “You weren’t here a hundred years ago,” Maddie pointed out with a grin. “Anyway, the government’s not going to come out here and attack me for selling a few eggs!” She did look on the internet for the law pertaining to egg production and found that she was in compliance. In fact, there were even places in the country licensed to sell raw milk. She’d have to tell Great-Aunt Sadie about that, she mused. Apparently armed teams weren’t raiding farms out west. * * * Meanwhile, a day later, she did call King Brannt. She was hesitant about it. Not only was he Cort’s father, he had a reputation in the county for being one tough customer, and difficult to get along with. He had a fiery temper that he wasn’t shy about using. But the developer’s determination to get the Lane ranch could have repercussions. A lot of them. She picked up the phone and dialed the ranch. The housekeeper answered. “Could I speak to King Brannt, please?” she asked. “It’s Maddie Lane.” There was a skirl of laughter. “Yes, you’ve got a rooster named Pumpkin.” Maddie laughed. “Is he famous?” “He is around here,” the woman said. “Cort isn’t laughing, but the rest of us are. Imagine having a personal devil in the form of a little red rooster! We’ve been teasing Cort that he must have done something terrible that we don’t know about.” Maddie sighed. “I’m afraid Pumpkin has it in for Cort. See, he picked him up by the feet and showed him to my girls, my hens, I mean, and hurt his pride. That was when he started looking for Cort.” “Oh, I see. It’s vengeance.” She laughed again. “Nice talking to you, I’ll go get Mr. Brannt. Take just a minute...” Maddie held on. Her gaze fell on one of her little fairy statues. It was delicate and beautiful; the tiny face perfect, lovely, with sculpted long blond hair, sitting on a stone with a butterfly in its hand. It was a new piece, one she’d just finished with the plastic sculpture mix that was the best on the market. Her egg money paid for the materials. She loved the little things and could never bear to sell one. But she did wonder if there was a market for such a specialized piece. “Brannt,” a deep voice said curtly. She almost jumped. “Mr. Brannt? It’s... I mean I’m Maddie Lane. I live on the little ranch next door to yours,” she faltered. “Hi, Maddie,” he said, and his voice lost its curt edge and was pleasant. “What can I do for you?” “I’ve got sort of a situation over here. I wanted to tell you about it.” “What’s wrong? Can we help?” “That’s so nice of you.” She didn’t add that she’d been told some very scary things about his temper. “It’s this developer. He’s from Las Vegas...” “Yes. Archie Lawson. I had him investigated.” “He’s trying to get me to sell my ranch to him. I don’t want to. This ranch has been in my family for generations. But he’s very pushy and he made some threats.” “He’s carried them out in the past,” King said, very curtly. “But you can be sure I’m not going to let him hurt you or your cattle herd. I’ll put on extra patrols on the land boundary we share, and station men at the cabin out there. We use it for roundup, but it’s been vacant for a week or so. I’ll make sure someone’s there at all times, and we’ll hook up cameras around your cattle herd and monitor them constantly.” “You’d do that for me?” she faltered. “Cameras. It’s so expensive.” She knew, because in desperation she’d looked at them and been shocked at the prices for even a cheap system. “I’d do that for you,” he replied. “You have one of the finest breeding herds I know of, which is why we buy so many of your young bulls.” “Why, thank you.” “You’re welcome. You see, it’s looking out for our interests as well as yours. I can’t have a complex so close to my barns, or my purebred herd. The noise of construction would be bad enough, but the constant traffic would injure production.” “Yes, I know what you mean.” “Besides that, Lawson is unscrupulous. He’s got his fingers in lots of dirty pies. He’s had several brushes with the law, too.” “I’m not surprised. He was a little scary.” “Don’t you worry. If he comes back and makes any threat at all, you call over here. If you can’t find me, talk to Cort. He’ll take care of it.” She hesitated. “Actually Cort isn’t speaking to me right now.” There was a pause. “Because of the rooster?” His voice was almost smiling. “Actually because I made a nasty crack about Odalie Everett,” she confessed heavily. “I didn’t mean to. He made me mad. I guess he was justified to complain. Pumpkin is really mean to him.” “So I heard. That rooster has had brushes with several of our cowboys.” She could tell that he was trying not to laugh. “The man who sold him to me said he was real gentle and wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s sort of true. I’ve never seen Pumpkin hurt a fly.” She laughed. “Just people.” “You need a gentle rooster, especially if you’re going to be selling eggs and baby chicks.” “The baby chick operation is down the road, but I’m doing well with my egg business.” “Glad to hear it. Our housekeeper wants to get on your customer list, by the way.” “I’ll talk to her, and thanks!” He chuckled. “My pleasure.” “If Mr. Lawson comes back, I’ll let you know.” “Please do. The man is trouble.” “I know. Thanks again, Mr. Brannt. I feel better now.” “Your dad was a friend of mine,” he said quietly. “I miss him. I know you do, too.” “I miss him a lot,” she said. “But Great-Aunt Sadie and I are coping. It’s just this ranching thing,” she added miserably. “Dad was good at it, he had charts in the barn, he knew which traits to breed for, all that technical stuff. He taught me well, but I’m not as good as he was at it. Not at all. I like to paint and sculpt.” She hesitated. “Creative people shouldn’t have to breed cattle!” she burst out. He laughed. “I hear you. Listen, suppose I send Cort over there to help you with the genetics? He’s even better at it than I am. And I’m good. No conceit, just fact.” She laughed, too. “You really are. We read about your bulls in the cattle journals.” She paused. “I don’t think Cort would come.” “He’ll come.” He sounded certain of it. “He needs something to take his mind off that woman. She’s a sweet girl, in her way, but she’s got some serious growing up to do. She thinks the world revolves around her. It doesn’t.” “She’s just been a little spoiled, I think.” She tried to be gracious. “Rotten,” he replied. “My kids never were.” “You and Mrs. Brannt did a great job with yours. And John Everett is a really nice man. So the Everetts did a great job there, too.” She didn’t mention the second Everett son, Tanner. The Everetts never spoke about him. Neither did anyone else. He was something of a mystery man. But gossip was that he and his dad didn’t get along. “They did a great job on John, for sure.” He let out a breath. “I just wish Cort would wake up. Odalie is never going to settle in a small community. She’s meant for high society and big cities. Cort would die in a high-rise apartment. He’s got too much country in him, although he’d jump at the chance if Odalie would offer him one. Just between us,” he added quietly, “I hope she doesn’t. If she makes it in opera, and I think she can, what would Cort do with himself while she trained and performed? He’d be bored out of his mind. He doesn’t even like opera. He likes country-western.” “He plays it very well,” Maddie said softly. “I loved coming to the barbecue at your place during the spring sale and hearing him sing. It was nice of you to invite all of us. Even old Ben. He was over the moon.” He laughed. “You’re all neighbors. I know you think of Ben as more family than employee. His family has worked for your family for four generations.” “That’s a long time,” she agreed. “I’m not selling my place,” she added firmly. “No matter what that fancy Las Vegas man does.” “Good for you. I’ll help you make sure of that. I’ll send Cort on over.” “He’s back from visiting his sister?” she stammered. “Yes. Got back yesterday. They went trout fishing.” She sighed. “I’d love to go trout fishing.” “Cort loves it. He said they did close the trout streams for fishing a couple of days after he and Dana—Morie, I mean, went. The heat makes it impossible. “ “That’s true.” She hesitated. “Why do you call Morie Dana?” she blurted out. He laughed. “When Shelby was carrying them, we called them Matt and Dana. Those were the names we picked out. Except that two of our friends used those names for theirs and we had to change ours. It got to be a habit, though, until the kids were adolescents. “Hey, Cort,” she heard King call, his hand covering the receiver so his voice was a little muffled. “Yes, Dad?” came the reply. “I want you to go over to the Lane place and give Maddie some help with her breeding program.” “The hell I will!” Cort burst out. The hand over the phone seemed to close, because the rest of it was muffled. Angry voices, followed by more discussion, followed like what seemed a string of horrible curses from Cort. King came back on the line. “He said he’d be pleased to come over and help,” he lied. “But he did ask if you’d shut your rooster up first.” He chuckled. “I’ll put him in the chicken house right now.” She tried not to sound as miserable as she felt. She knew Cort didn’t want to help her. He hated her. “And thank you again.” “You’re very welcome. Call us if you need help with Lawson. Okay?” “Okay.” * * * True to his father’s words, Cort drove up in front of the house less than an hour later. He wasn’t slamming doors or scattering chickens this time, either. He looked almost pleasant. Apparently his father had talked to him very firmly. Maddie had combed her hair and washed her face. She still wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. She had on her nicest jeans and a pink T-shirt that said La Vie en Rose. It called attention, unfortunately, to breasts that were small and pert instead of big and tempting. But Cort was looking at her shirt with his lips pursed. “The world through rose-colored glasses?” he mused. “You speak French.” “Of course. French, Spanish and enough German to get me arrested in Munich. We do cattle deals all over the world,” he added. “Yes, I remember.” She swallowed, hard, recalling the things he’d said at their last unfortunate meeting. “Your father said you could help me figure out Dad’s breeding program.” “I think so. I helped him work up the new one before he passed away,” he added quietly. “We were all shocked by how fast it happened.” “So were we,” Maddie confessed. “Two months from the time he was diagnosed until he passed on.” She drew in a long breath. “He hated tests, you know. He wouldn’t go to the doctor about anything unless he was already at death’s door. I think the doctor suspected something, but Dad just passed right over the lecture about tests being necessary and walked out. By the time they diagnosed the cancer, it was too late for anything except radiation. And somebody said that they only did that to help contain the pain.” Her pale eyes grew sad. “It was terrible, the pain. At the last, he was so sedated that he hardly knew me. It was the only way he could cope.” “I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t lost parents, but I lost both my grandparents. They were wonderful people. It was hard to let them go.” “Life goes on,” she said quietly. “Everybody dies. It’s just a matter of how and when.” “True.” She swallowed. “Dad kept his chalkboard in the barn, and his books in the library, along with his journals. I’ve read them all, but I can’t make sense of what he was doing. I’m not college educated, and I don’t really know much about animal husbandry. I know what I do from watching Dad.” “I can explain it to you.” She nodded. “Thanks.” She turned and led the way to the house. “Where’s that...rooster?” he asked. “Shut up in the henhouse with a fan.” “A fan?” he exclaimed and burst out laughing. “It really isn’t funny,” she said softly. “I lost two of my girls to the heat. Found them dead in the henhouse, trying to lay. I had Ben go and get us a fan and install it there. It does help with the heat, a little at least.” “My grandmother used to keep hens,” he recalled. “But we only have one or two now. Foxes got the rest.” He glanced at her. “Andie, our housekeeper, wants to get on your egg customer list for two dozen a week.” She nodded. “Your dad mentioned that. I can do that. I’ve got pullets that should start laying soon. My flock is growing by leaps and bounds.” She indicated the large fenced chicken yard, dotted with all sorts of chickens. The henhouse was huge, enough to accommodate them all, complete with perches and ladders and egg boxes and, now, a fan. “Nice operation.” “I’m going to expand it next year, if I do enough business.” “Did you check the law on egg production?” She laughed. “Yes, I did. I’m in compliance. I don’t have a middleman, or I could be in trouble. I sell directly to the customer, so it’s all okay.” “Good.” He shrugged, his hands in his jean pockets. “I’d hate to have to bail you out of jail.” “You wouldn’t,” she sighed. He stopped and looked down at her. She seemed so dejected. “Yes, I would,” he said, his deep voice quiet and almost tender as he studied her small frame, her short wavy blond hair, her wide, soft gray eyes. Her complexion was exquisite, not a blemish on it except for one small mole on her cheek. She had a pretty mouth, too. It looked tempting. Bow-shaped, soft, naturally pink... “Cort?” she asked suddenly, her whole body tingling, her heart racing at the way he was staring at her mouth. “What? Oh. Yes. The breeding books.” He nodded. “We should get to it.” “Yes.” She swallowed, tried to hide her blush and opened the front door. Chapter Three Maddie couldn’t help but stare at Cort as he leaned over the desk to read the last page of her father’s breeding journal. He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. And that physique! He was long and lean, but also muscular. Broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, and in the opening of his chambray shirt, thick curling black hair peeked out. She’d never been overly interested in intimacy. Never having indulged, she had no idea how it felt, although she’d been reading romance novels since her early teens. She did know how things worked between men and women from health class. What she didn’t know was why women gave in to men. She supposed it came naturally. Cort felt her eyes on him and turned, so that he was looking directly into her wide, shocked gray eyes. His own dark ones narrowed. He knew that look, that expression. She was trying to hide it, but he wasn’t fooled. “Take a picture,” he drawled, because her interest irritated him. She wasn’t his type. Not at all. Her reaction shamed him. She looked away, cleared her throat and went beet-red. “Sorry,” she choked. “I was just thinking. You were sort of in the way. I was thinking about my fairies...” He felt guilty. That made him even more irritable. “What fairies?” She stumbled and had to catch herself as she went past him. She was so embarrassed she could hardly even walk. She went to the shelf where she’d put the newest one. Taking it down very carefully, she carried it to the desk and put it in front of him. He caught his breath. He picked it up, delicately for a man with such large, strong hands, and held it up to his eyes. He turned it. He was smiling. “This is really beautiful,” he said, as if it surprised him. He glanced at her. “You did this by yourself?” She moved uneasily. “Yes,” she muttered. What did he think—that she had somebody come in and do the work so she could claim credit for it? “I didn’t mean it like that, Maddie,” he said gently. The sound of her name on his lips made her tingle. She didn’t dare look up, because her attraction to him would surely show. He knew a lot more about women than she knew about men. He could probably tell already that she liked him. It had made him mad. So she’d have to hide it. “Okay,” she said. But she still wouldn’t look up. He gave the beautiful little statuette another look before he put it down very gently on the desk. “You should be marketing those,” he said firmly. “I’ve seen things half as lovely sell for thousands of dollars.” “Thousands?” she exclaimed. “Yes. Sometimes five figures. I was staying at a hotel in Arizona during a cattlemen’s conference and a doll show was exhibiting at the same hotel. I talked to some of the artists.” He shook his head. “It’s amazing how much collectors will pay for stuff like that.” He indicated the fairy with his head. “You should look into it.” She was stunned. “I never dreamed people would pay so much for a little sculpture.” “Your paintings are nice, too,” he admitted. “My mother loves the drawing you did. She bought it at that art show last year. She said you should be selling the sculptures, too.” “I would. It’s just that they’re like my children,” she confessed, and flushed because that sounded nutty. “I mean...well, it’s hard to explain.” “Each one is unique and you put a lot of yourself into it,” he guessed. “So it would be hard to sell one.” “Yes.” She did look up then, surprised that he was so perceptive. “You have the talent. All you need is the drive.” “Drive.” She sighed. She smiled faintly. “How about imminent starvation? Does that work for drive?” He laughed. “We wouldn’t let you starve. Your bull calves are too valuable to us,” he added, just when she thought he might actually care. “Thanks,” she said shyly. “In that journal of Dad’s—” she changed the subject “—he talks about heritability traits for lean meat with marbling to produce cuts that health-conscious consumers will buy. Can you explain to me how I go about producing herd sires that carry the traits we breed for?” He smiled. “It’s complicated. Want to take notes?” She sighed. “Just like going back to school.” Then she remembered school, and the agonies she went through in her junior and senior years because of Odalie Everett, and her face clenched. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning. She swallowed. She almost said what was wrong. But she’d been down that road with him already, making comments she shouldn’t have made about Odalie. She wasn’t going to make him mad. Not now, when he was being pleasant and helpful. “Nothing. Just a stray thought.” She smiled. “I’ll get some paper and a pencil.” * * * After a half hour she put down the pencil. “It’s got to be like learning to speak Martian,” she muttered. He laughed out loud. “Listen, I didn’t come into the world knowing how this stuff worked, either. I had to learn it, and if my dad hadn’t been a patient man, I’d have jumped off a cliff.” “Your dad is patient?” she asked, and couldn’t help sounding surprised. “I know he’s got a reputation for being just the opposite. But he really is patient. I had a hard time with algebra in high school. He’d take me into the office every night and go over problems with me until I understood how to do them. He never fussed, or yelled, or raised his voice. And I was a problem child.” He shook his head. “I’m amazed I got through my childhood in one piece. I’ve broken half the bones in my body at some point, and I know my mother’s gray hairs are all because of me. Morie was a little lady. She never caused anybody any trouble.” “I remember,” Maddie said with a smile. “She was always kind to me. She was a couple of years ahead of me, but she was never snobby.” His dark eyes narrowed. “There’s a hidden comment in there.” She flushed. “I didn’t mention anybody else.” “You meant Odalie,” he said. “She can’t help being beautiful and rich and talented,” he pointed out. “And it wasn’t her fault that her parents put her in public school instead of private school, where she might have been better treated.” “Better treated.” She glared at him. “Not one teacher or administrator ever had a bad word to say about her, even though she bullied younger girls mercilessly and spent most of her time bad-mouthing people she didn’t like. One year she had a party for our whole class, at the ranch. She invited every single girl in the class—except me.” Cort’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.” “My father went to see her father, that’s how unintentional it was,” she replied quietly. “When Cole Everett knew what she’d done to me, he grounded her for a month and took away her end-of-school trip as punishment.” “That seems extreme for not inviting someone to a party,” he scoffed. “I guess that’s because you don’t know about the other things she did to me,” she replied. “Let me guess—she didn’t send you a Valentine’s Day card, either,” he drawled in a tone that dripped sarcasm. She looked at him with open sadness. “Sure. That’s it. I held a grudge because she didn’t send me a holiday card and my father went to see the school principal and Odalie’s father because he liked starting trouble.” Cort remembered her father. He was the mildest, most forgiving man anywhere around Branntville. He’d walk away from a fight if he could. The very fact that he got involved meant that he felt there was more than a slight problem. But Cort loved Odalie, and here was this bad- tempered little frump making cracks about her, probably because she was jealous. “I guess if you don’t have a real talent and you aren’t as pretty, it’s hard to get along with someone who has it all,” he commented. Her face went beet-red. She stood up, took her father’s journal, closed it and put it back in the desk drawer. She faced him across the width of the desk. “Thank you for explaining the journal to me,” she said in a formal tone. “I’ll study the notes I took very carefully.” “Fine.” He started to leave, hesitated. He turned and looked back at her. He could see an unusual brightness in her eyes. “Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just, well, you don’t know Odalie. She’s sweet and kind, she’d never hurt anybody on purpose.” “I don’t have any talent, I’m ugly and I lie.” She nodded. “Thanks.” “Hell, I never said you lied!” She swallowed. Loud voices and curses made her nervous. She gripped the edge of the desk. “Now what’s wrong?” he asked angrily. She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said quickly. He took a sudden, quick step toward her. She backed up, knocked over the desk chair and almost fell again getting it between him and herself. She was white in the face. He stopped in his tracks. His lips fell open. In all his life, he’d never seen a woman react that way. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, but not in a loud or menacing tone. She swallowed. “Nothing. Thanks for coming over.” He scowled. She looked scared to death. Great-Aunt Sadie had heard a crash in the room. She opened the door gingerly and looked in. She glanced from Maddie’s white face to Cort’s drawn one. “Maddie, you okay?” she asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking back and forth to Cort’s as if she, too, was uneasy. “I’m fine. I just...knocked the chair over.” She laughed, but it was a nervous, quick laugh. “Cort was just leaving. He gave me lots of information.” “Nice of him,” Sadie agreed. She moved closer to Maddie, as if prepared to act as a human shield if Cort took another step toward the younger woman. “Good night, Cort.” He wanted to know what was wrong. It was true he’d said some mean things, but the fear in Maddie’s eyes, and the looks he was getting, really disturbed him. He moved to the door, hesitated. “If you need any more help...” he began. “I’ll call. Sure. Thanks for offering.” Maddie’s voice sounded tight. She was standing very still. He was reminded forcibly of deer’s eyes in headlights. “Well, I’ll get on home. Good night.” “Night,” Maddie choked out. He glanced from one woman to the other, turned and pulled the door closed behind him. Maddie almost collapsed into the chair. Tears were running down her cheeks. Great-Aunt Sadie knelt beside the chair and pulled her close, rocking her. “There, there, it’s all right. He’s gone. What happened?” “I mentioned about Odalie not inviting me to the party and he said I was just jealous of her. I said something, I don’t...remember what, and he started toward me, all mad and impatient...” She closed her eyes, shivering. “I can’t forget. All those years ago, and I still can’t forget!” “Nobody ever told Cort just what Odalie did to you, did they?” “Apparently not,” Maddie said heavily. She wiped her eyes. “Her dad made her apologize, but I know she never regretted it.” She drew in a breath. “I told her that one day somebody was going to pay her back for all the mean things she did.” She looked up. “Cort thinks she’s a saint. If he only knew what she’s really like...” “It wouldn’t matter,” the older woman said sadly. “Men get hooked on a pretty face and they’d believe white was black if the woman told them it was. He’s infatuated, baby. No cure for that but time.” “I thought he was so sexy.” Maddie laughed. She brushed at her eyes again. “Then he lost his temper like that. He scared me,” she said on a nervous smile. “It’s all right. Nobody’s going to hurt you here. I promise.” She hugged the older woman tight. “Thanks.” “At the time, that boy did apologize, and he meant it,” Sadie reminded her. “He was as much a victim as you were.” “Yes, but he got in trouble and he should have. No man, even an angry young one with justification, should ever do what he did to a girl. He didn’t have nightmares for a month, either, did he, or carry emotional scars that never go away? Sad thing about him,” she added quietly, “he died overseas when a roadside bomb blew up when he was serving in the Middle East. With a temper like that, I often wondered what he might do to a woman if he got even more upset than he was at me that time.” “No telling. And just as well we don’t have to find out.” Her face hardened. “But you’re right about that Odalie girl. Got a bad attitude and no compassion for anybody. One of these days, life is going to pay her out in her own coin. She’ll be sorry for the things she’s done, but it will be too late. God forgives,” she added. “But there’s a price.” “What’s that old saying, ‘God’s mill grinds slowly, but relentlessly’?” “Something like that. Come on. I’ll make you a nice cup of hot coffee.” “Make that a nice cup of hot chocolate instead,” Maddie said. “I’ve had a rough day and I want to go to bed.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/diana-palmer/the-rancher/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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