- -
- 100%
- +
“I’ll have Francisco stop by your place after he gets home.”
“Sounds good.”
Jessie bit the edge of her lip. “It was just so much better when Walt owned the place outright.”
“The bank owned it, Jessie. And they were ready to take it.”
“Maybe that would have been better,” she muttered, bending to tie Bella’s shoe. “Then the trauma would be over and we’d have other jobs.”
“Maybe.”
“By-eee,” Bella called to Ryan, waving her chubby fist at him.
“Bye,” he said with a half smile, taking the hint. He was supposed to leave.
* * *
WALT’S PLACE WAS dark. Ryan hesitated before he knocked. If the old man was sleeping off his rough night, he hated to disturb him, but if Ellison was going to talk to him today, he had to do some prep work. Walt had met with the owners before, but in those cases he’d gone on his bender after the talk, not before.
“Coming,” Walt grumbled from the other side of the door at Ryan’s second knock. The door swung open and the old man blinked at the sun behind Ryan’s back. “Yeah?”
“Can I come in?” Ryan asked.
“I guess.” Walt stood back, allowing Ryan to walk past him before he shut the door, blocking the sun.
“Got something against light?” Ryan asked.
“Only when it burns a hole in my head.”
Ryan looked his mentor over. He’d changed his clothes, so the bar smell wasn’t clinging to him. Good.
“The lady wants to meet with you today.”
“What are you? The go-between?” Walt asked, looking insulted.
“I’m the one who lives close. She came to see me and told me she wants to meet with all of us.”
“I’ve met with these guys before. No big deal.”
“Yeah, but this is a different kind of meeting.”
“How so?”
“This lady is here to evaluate the ranch. She wants to know about our jobs. What we do and when.” Ryan rubbed the side of his neck. “She’s some kind of human-resources person.”
“Human resources?” Walt scowled and Ryan could see that this was the first he’d heard of the evaluation, so the only thing he’d kept to himself was the fact that one of the family was coming for a visit.
“Okay, so I tell her what I do. Anything else?” He gave Ryan a narrow-eyed look. “Shouldn’t you be on the mountain looking for those four head by now?”
Ryan let out a breath. “I’m getting a late start. I had to go to town, you know. Pick someone up.”
“No. You didn’t. I would have made it back on my own this morning.”
Walt never apologized for his benders. To him they were part of his stress-management program. He never drove drunk. More than once Francisco or Ryan had had to return to a bar to pick up the keys Walt had handed over to the bartender the night before.
Walt nodded. “I’ll contact the lady and set up a meeting time. I can do it alone.”
“I’m not trying to be your keeper or anything, Walt. I just wanted to warn you. This evaluation thing kind of blindsided me and I didn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
“Thanks.”
“And...” Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets. “You might want to write down a list of what you do around here.”
“Justify my existence.”
“Be prepared for the interview.”
“All right. I will. Now go to work before I fire you.”
Ryan walked to the door. Hopefully, Walt would have worked his way past his headache by the time he talked to the woman. Ryan would have given anything to be in on the meeting, run interference, but Walt was on his own. He was the manager, not Ryan. He just hoped Walt didn’t do anything stupid, such as tell her he planned to die on the property.
* * *
EXACTLY THREE WEEKS had passed since quitting her job and Ellie had yet to acclimate to her new schedule. Having time on her hands made her feel antsy, almost guilty. Yes, she had a purpose here at the ranch, but it wasn’t going to fill eight hours a day. The internet/satellite guy was supposed to show up tomorrow to work on the connection and hook up the television, and the fact that she was counting the hours until then bothered her. What kind of person was she that she had to have the internet and television?
The kind who’d been career driven and no longer had a career to fill her time. When was the last time she hadn’t had a schedule so full that it was a challenge to simply make it through the day?
The day before she’d resigned.
Ryan had driven away shortly after she’d spoken to him—off to warn his boss, who had no cell phone, no doubt. Well, good. She wanted the staff to be prepared. It would save time...although right now saving time wasn’t a concern. She needed something to fill time.
If she went now, she could familiarize herself with the layout of the ranch without wondering where Ryan was and if he was watching her. There was something about him that she found unsettling.
Unmitigated hotness, perhaps?
She hadn’t expected him to be so attractive. Hadn’t expected to have to fight herself to keep from watching him walk across the living room to the door earlier that morning and wondering just what exactly he looked like without the worn denim jeans and white cotton shirt.
What the hell was she doing thinking thoughts like that? Nick had been hot, too. Hot, charming, dishonest. The dishonesty had been by omission, but dishonesty all the same. Ellie pressed her hand to her abdomen. She would not judge all men by Nick, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to be taken in by general hotness anytime soon, either...although judging by the way Ryan Madison had responded to her during their first meetings, being tempted by hotness wasn’t going to be an issue. She was the enemy, and he’d made little effort to hide his displeasure about her being there.
She slipped on her shoes and headed for the door just as the red truck drove past the house toward the barn. So much for him not being around. Ellie paused at the door. She couldn’t spend her days cooped up in the house. The people who worked here were employees. She wasn’t exactly the boss, but she was a representative of the boss. No different than anyplace else where she’d consulted.
Except that these people lived here.
Well, so did she and she was going to get to know her surroundings—although she’d really prefer to explore when no one was around. She was surrounded by the unfamiliar, and Ellie didn’t like it when she wasn’t in total control.
* * *
RYAN SADDLED SKIPPER and headed out to find the few head of cattle that had been reported on the mountain, wondering if he could possibly get back before Walt had his meeting with Ellison. Not that he could control any part of the meeting, but he wanted to know the outcome as soon as possible. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Walt... No, it was that he didn’t trust Walt.
He had just started across the pasture when he heard a sharp shriek. Skipper’s head jerked up at the sound and Ryan reined the gelding around, various scenarios chasing through his brain. He pulled Skipper up at the gate, dismounted and then stood for a moment, wondering where the scream had come from.
The jays squawked from the trees near the house, probably wondering when the next pie was going to appear, but other than that the place was silent. Ryan looped the lead rope attached to Skipper’s halter over the gatepost and then headed for the house, wondering what in hell the deal was.
He knocked on the door. A few seconds later it opened and Ellison gave him a politely inquiring look that made him wonder if he had or had not heard a scream. No—he’d heard it. It’d been a woman’s voice and since Jessie was a half mile away, Ellison had to be the screamer.
“Are you okay?” he asked. She looked okay. Not a blond hair out of place.
“Yes,” she said simply.
Ryan waited a couple seconds and then, when it became clear that she was not going to expand on her answer, he said, “I thought I heard someone yell.”
Color rose in Ellison’s face but her expression remained controlled as she said, “I hadn’t realized I was that loud.”
“You were.”
“Yes, well.” She cleared her throat. “There was a snake on the steps. It startled me.”
“That was probably—”
“Hiss. I know. The boy who brought the pie warned me, but I forgot.”
Ryan regarded her for a moment, wondering how someone could belt out a shriek like that then appear so indifferent. Long practice? Ice water in the veins? He felt the urge to shake her up but, for the good of everyone involved, refrained. “Well, as long as everything is okay. Sorry to have disturbed you.” He touched his hat, a gesture he’d picked up from Walt many years ago.
“It’s not okay,” she blurted as he turned to go. He turned back, surprised at the note of what had sounded a lot like desperation in her voice. She cleared her throat again, then said more calmly, “Something needs to be done about the snake.”
“He’s harmless,” Ryan said. He didn’t want her taking a shovel to poor old Hiss, who showed up every May and stayed until late July when he went off to who knew where.
“I don’t think my aunt and uncle will welcome a snake this close to the house.”
“I’ll see if I can get Lonnie to catch him and move him...although he may come back. Snakes do that.” And Hiss had. Every year.
“Then move him far away.”
“Will do,” Ryan said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to work.” He had a lot to get done before he left for the Wolf Point rodeo and he had to carve out some time to practice tonight.
“Of course,” Ellison said. “Sorry to have delayed you.”
“Not a problem.”
* * *
ELLIE CLOSED THE door slowly and leaned back against it, then turned and watched through the leaded-glass panes as the cowboy returned to his horse. Her heart was still hammering from the snake encounter and it seemed to be hammering even harder after talking to Ryan Madison.
The snake had to have been six feet long, coiled up on the bottom stone step enjoying the sun. Ellie wasn’t particularly squeamish about snakes, as long as they kept their distance, but she’d practically stepped on this one and if it hadn’t seen her coming and slithered into action, she would have. But instead she’d seen the movement, recognized what it was and screamed.
Was there any way she could blame hormones? Ellie wasn’t a screamer. She continued to watch as Ryan walked through the gate to the plain brown horse that waited on the other side, pulled the rope off the gatepost, coiled it and tied it to his saddle. Then he mounted, the movement quick and smooth and somehow very sexy, gathered his reins and urged the horse out across the field.
Yes. He was definitely a cowboy, as he’d stated during their interview.
One that came to the rescue of screaming women.
Ellie pressed her hands against her warm cheeks. Hormones or not, that wasn’t going to happen again. The phone rang and Ellie followed the sound to the old-fashioned landline in the living room, answering it on the fifth ring.
“This is Walter Feldman,” the man said stiffly. “I understand that you want to set up a meeting with me.”
“I do.” And she was going to keep an open mind about this guy that Milo said was hell to work with.
“When?”
“Anytime that’s convenient to you.”
“This afternoon work?”
Ellie glanced at the clock. It was close to eleven. “Yes. That would be fine. Say three o’clock?”
“I’ll be there. Goodbye.” The line went dead.
Ellie wrinkled her forehead as she put the receiver back in the cradle. Open mind. He’d said his piece, made his appointment and hung up. That at least smacked of efficiency. Ellie reached for her sweater. That gave her an hour or two to take her self-guided tour, maybe come up with some questions to ask about the ranch itself.
She paused at the top of the porch steps as she pulled the sweater up over her arms and checked for the snake. Nothing, thank goodness, but she still hurried down the steps. Realistically the snake had probably been as frightened as she’d been—but it probably wasn’t as embarrassed.
It was no big deal, she told herself as she crossed the flagstones. She’d had a couple missteps with the local wildlife, but now she had more of an idea of what to do—watch out for snakes and keep the food in the house. And she might try thinking about the cowboy strictly as an employee, not as a rather fascinating man. It’d probably be better for her blood pressure.
* * *
WALTER FELDMAN WAS barely three inches taller than Ellie. His lined face was freshly shaved and he was dressed in a carefully pressed and starched white Western shirt and dark blue jeans. His boots were polished and he wore a string tie around his neck with a silver slide. Classic cowboy...who smelled vaguely of alcohol. It wasn’t on his breath, but it was there.
“Have a seat,” she said with a smile. He hesitated, then sat, his gaze traveling around the room that had once belonged to him. Maybe she should have arranged to meet at his place.
“I have my papers here,” he said, shifting his attention back to her.
“Your papers?” Ellie asked with a lift of her eyebrows.
“Yeah. Ryan said that you’d want a rundown of what I do.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. Thank you.” She reached out for the papers, watching to see if his hands shook at all. Nope. Steady as a rock. He’d written out his job description on plain white computer paper in careful block letters—all caps. No sign of unsteadiness in his handwriting, either, and since he had to have written this today, after being warned by Ryan, she decided not to jump to any conclusions about him being an alcoholic.
But he had been drinking heavily recently. His red-rimmed eyes, shining vividly blue in his lined face, gave testament to that. That and her hypersensitive sense of smell, thank you very much, progesterone.
“I, uh, put down everything I could think of, but might have left some stuff out because I didn’t know what you wanted.”
Ellie smiled, remembering her vow to keep an open mind. “Of course you didn’t. I’d planned to let you know what I wanted when we met, but apparently Mr. Madison beat me to it.”
“Ryan’s efficient.”
Ellie ignored the plug for Ryan and took a minute to read what the old man had written. He gave detailed information about cattle breeding and lineages he favored. He outlined the cattle-production schedule and had a section where he listed prizes and awards he’d won with his bulls.
“So your expertise is cattle breeding.”
“It’s what I do.”
“And around the ranch, what are your management responsibilities?”
“Well, Ryan takes care of the pastures and grazing. Francisco does the mechanic-ing, keeps all the equipment running, maintains the buildings and roads and such. We’re all on duty during calving.”
“And you run the breeding program?”
“I do.”
“Do you and Ryan and Francisco meet?” The old man wrinkled his forehead and Ellie said, “How do they know what to do and when?”
“Common sense is a big help.”
“So you don’t outline jobs for them?”
“If I see something that needs done, I mention it, but these guys are pretty much self-starters.”
“Describe an average day for me.” Another frown and Ellie explained, “I worked for a large software company until recently. I’m not familiar with ranching.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked pointedly.
“To get familiar.”
Walt took a deep breath, as if calming himself, then said, “On an average day I help feed the cattle. I might check fences. I might dig postholes. I might run the tractor or muck out the corrals. I might deal with irrigation.” He gave a frustrated movement of his hands. “It all depends on the day and the season.”
“I see.” She decided to shift gears. “As the supervisor, are you satisfied with Mr. Madison’s and Mr. Garcia’s job performances?”
“They’re still here, aren’t they?”
She looked down at the paper Walt had given her, then back up at the old man. “My job is to collect information about how this ranch is run and organize it so that my aunt and uncle can see what present practices are in place and move forward. When the consultant arrives—”
“What consultant?” Walt snapped, his eyebrows coming together fiercely. “I’ve heard nothing about a consultant.”
Probably because you aren’t very good at communicating with your boss and are therefore skating on thin ice.
“Later this summer a ranch consultant will be evaluating practices at the Rocky View. I’ll act as liaison between him and my aunt and uncle.”
“Who is it?”
“The consultant? I don’t know his name.” Although that was on her list of things to talk to Milo about once she’d settled in and could get hold of him.
Walt shifted in his chair, his expression tight, threatened.
“When’s he coming?”
“Later this summer and, before he comes, I want to be well familiar with the ranch. To do that, I need some idea of the hierarchy,” she explained patiently. “How decisions are made. When they’re made and by whom.”
Walt let out an exasperated breath. For a second she thought he wasn’t going to answer, then he said, “Ryan makes the decisions on the pastures and grazing. Francisco handles the maintenance and I handle the breeding program.”
“That sounds like three separate entities rather than a team being managed by one person.”
“Look, Miss...” He frowned as he fought to remember her name and then gave up. “This system works. Now, I’ll admit to hitting some hard times, but after Ryan came on...things changed and we’re making money again.”
Some, according to Milo, but not a lot. “A business needs one manager,” Ellie persisted. “Not three people working independently.”
“It has one. Me.”
Ellie sighed. He wasn’t getting it and it looked, judging by the expression he wore, that he was thinking the exact same thought. They both jumped when a knock rattled the back door.
“That’d be Francisco,” Walt muttered. “He has some business in town tonight and wanted to get this over with before he goes.”
“Maybe we can talk some more later,” Ellie said as Walt got to his feet. Obviously in his mind the interview was over.
“Yeah. I’ll just tell Francisco to come on in.” He was moving toward the door so fast that Ellie was surprised that she didn’t get the Doppler effect.
Milo was correct—this guy needed work on his communication skills. And Ellie needed to keep an eye on him to see if his drinking was a problem.
* * *
“SHE’S BRINGING IN a ranch consultant,” Walt repeated as he paced along the cedar rail fence behind the bunkhouse. He stopped to glare at Ryan. “You know what happened to the Vineyard Ranch when they brought in George Monroe to consult. That asshole.”
“Nothing saying it’s going to be George.” But Ryan had a bad feeling it was. The Bradworths and the Kenyons, who’d bought the Vineyard a few years ago, were friends. The Kenyons were probably the reason the Bradworths had bought the Rocky View.
“It’s George,” Walt growled.
Ryan coiled his rope. There’d be no focusing until Walt got a grip. After the snake scare with Ellison, he’d spent a couple hours on the mountain looking for the cows, then he had come back to work on the broken irrigation head gate. He’d hoped to be finished in time to rope some calves, but had gotten back too late, so he’d had to settle for roping the dummy. Until Walt had shown up, livid.
Walt’s scowl intensified. “Aren’t you going to practice?”
“I’m good,” Ryan said.
“I’ve never known you to be good.”
“Good enough, then.” Ryan rarely sloughed practice, but tonight he figured he needed to focus on Walt. Calm him down before he left tomorrow night. He had back-to-back rodeos three hundred miles apart, one of which had a rich purse he needed to win—a purse that his brother wouldn’t be fighting him for. It still felt so damned strange.
“Having this woman around is very unsettling,” Walt grumbled, resuming his pacing. “These people know nothing.” He shot another fierce look at Ryan. “She told me she knows nothing. She’s ‘here to learn,’” he quipped, miming quotation marks.
“I know you hoped this would be like the Bar R and the Trail Creek,” Ryan said, referring to two ranches that had sold to absentee owners solely interested in tax write-offs. “And it may still play out that way. Give it some time. Don’t piss these guys off.”
“If George has his way, then none of us will be here to piss anyone off,” Walt muttered.
“You don’t know that it’s George.”
“You don’t know that it isn’t,” Walt growled.
Ryan came to stand in front of the old man, waiting for him to glare up at him before he said, “I’m not telling you what to do or anything—” although he really was “—but while I’m gone, kind of steer clear of Ms. Hunter, at least until you cool off. No sense burning any bridges just because she might be bringing in George Monroe.”
“Afraid I’ll muck things up for all of us?” Walt asked.
“Totally.” The frustration of working with a person who knew nothing about ranching but was suddenly the boss was that there was a lot of explaining to do. Some people could take it, some couldn’t. Walt was in the latter camp. He wasn’t going to put up with micromanaging and questioning the wisdom of his decisions.
Walt considered, then gave a soft snort. “Maybe lying low is the best thing to do.”
“For now,” Ryan agreed, relieved. “No chance you want to come to the rodeo with me? Lonnie and Francisco could cover while we’re gone.”
“I have a lot to do rebuilding the calving barn,” Walt said. “And hopefully I’ll be here next spring to use it.”
“Which is why you’re going to lie low for now.”
“Agreed,” the old man muttered. “I’ll be invisible. Or as invisible as I can be with power tools.”
Walt got into his rig a few minutes later and took off for his house, or the Garcia’s, depending on whether he went there to eat or not. Sometimes Walt liked being social and playing Grandpa to the kids, and sometimes he just needed to be left alone. Ryan and Francisco and Jessie understood that. Ellison probably wouldn’t.
Once Walt was gone, Ryan threw a few more practice loops before deciding to call it a night. He’d asked Lonnie to handle the irrigating tomorrow while he took one last stab at finding Walt’s missing cattle, and then it was simply a matter of showering and driving two hundred miles to the rodeo where he’d compete the following morning. It’d be a string of long days, but that was the way it was in the summers. Nothing he could do about it except deal with sleep deprivation.
“Excuse me?” Ellison’s voice startled him. After Walt left for the day, Ryan was always alone.
Not anymore.
She stood at the corner of the bunkhouse wearing a long white shirt over slim dark jeans with those flimsy flat shoes, regarding him with those cool green eyes that he found more attractive than he wanted to admit. She started toward him when he didn’t answer immediately and as she got closer he could see that her hair wasn’t as perfect as usual. Instead it looked as if she’d been resting her head in her hands, loosening the strands around her face, giving her a softer look. “I was wondering if you were able to do anything about the snake?” she asked.
“I, uh, no,” he confessed. He’d pushed the matter of Hiss to the back of his mind and left it there. “I haven’t had time and I didn’t see Lonnie today.”
“Could you maybe call him?” Ellison asked with a polite edge to her voice.
So much for softness. “Sure.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight, but there’s no guarantee that Lonnie’s going to be able to catch him immediately.”
“He can try.”
“That he can.” Ryan walked toward her, rope in hand. She cocked her head.
“Were you roping?”
“Yes.” It seemed best to keep answers short and sweet, and then maybe she’d go back to her house.
“Like for exercise?”
A smile formed before he could stop it. “I guess.”
She studied him for a moment, obviously trying to get a read. “Do you do a lot of roping on the ranch?”