The Rancher

“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.