Denim & Diamonds (11 page)

The Mule lurched to a stop and Aidan hopped out, then pulled a tool from the bed of the ATV. He pointed the tool at the fence. "See that?"

She turned to look and saw that the top of the fence had pulled away from the post. "That doesn't look good."

"Nope. That's why we gotta ride the fences on a regular basis." Aidan pulled the woven wire tight. “This place is home now. Has been since Beau and your daddy took me in. Your daddy always treated Beau like a son, and they both made me feel like family, too.”

"I'm glad my father was able to help." Beth slid off of the seat and wondered if the family comment was a dig. “Now, what can I do to help?”

“Here,” he nodded towards the wire fencing. “Pull this tight while I hook a new clip onto the post.”

She did as she was told, but the wire cut into her bare fingers and she let go. Aidan didn’t chastise her. Instead, he reached between the seats of the Mule and produced a pair of worn leather gloves. “Here, wear these.”

“Thanks,” she said, as she tugged the gloves on. She grasped the wire again and pulled it tight.

Aidan slipped the clip onto the T-post and twisted with the fencing tool. “What are you going to do with this ranch if you get it?”

Her hands dropped to her sides and she blinked, taken aback at his forwardness. “I don’t know.”

“You going to sell it? Divide it up and sell it in pieces like what happened to the Flying B down the road?” Without looking at her, he tossed the fencing tool into the bed. “It’s none of my business, I know. Just wondering what the future might hold.”

The clang of metal on metal made Beth flinch and she realized that he had voiced the fear that everyone on the ranch was probably feeling. Honesty was the best policy. She shrugged and said, “One step at a time. I’ve got to get through the year first.”

He nodded, silent as she slid into the seat. After the Mule began to roll, he said, “A lot can happen in a year. What about your job at that law firm in Kansas City?"

"I needed some time away."

"So the job's still waiting for you."

She changed the subject by asking him about the fences, the horses and anything else she could think of. Although she tried to listen to his answers, her thoughts kept going back to his comment about family. Would he help her? Would any of the employees help her? Or were they all loyal to Beau? Certainly Aidan would tell his friend about this conversation. How would he spin it? How would Beau take it?
  

Life at the ranch settled into a somewhat comfortable existence over the next few weeks, though the relative peace was punctuated by occasional calls and bouquets of red roses from Quinn. Beau disappeared on Friday and Saturday nights, likely spending his time with the blonde from the park. Both pretended the kiss on the front porch had never happened. There were more reports of cattle rustling, but all in neighboring counties.

One morning Beth walked into the kitchen while Beau was visiting with a middle-aged man wearing a suit. The two men were huddled over the kitchen table. Beau scribbled something on a yellow legal pad, then slid it across the table. Charlotte leaned back against the kitchen sink, a red checked dishtowel clutched in her hands. Beth hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt but curious about the visitor.

The man in the suit sat back in his chair, “I don’t see any problem with it. Just let me know when you’re ready to proceed. Always a good idea to have your ducks in a row.”

Charlotte's chest heaved as a sigh escaped. “You’re absolutely right. This whole situation has been trying.“

The chair screeched across the floor as Beau shoved away from the table, “What’s done is done. We just have to play the hand we’ve been dealt.”

Fire flashed in his eyes when he turned and saw Beth in the doorway. The other two stood open-mouthed as Beau pushed past her. Charlotte and the man in the suit looked at each other, then at Beth. For a moment, there was silence in the kitchen, except for the slow drip, drip of the leaky faucet. The man slid his chair back and pushed himself to his feet as Charlotte turned to swipe the dish towel across the countertop.

“Better get going,” he said.

“Right, day’s a’wastin’,” she said.

He nodded as he squeezed past Beth, "Nice to see you, Miss Jameson."

The tension in the kitchen was palpable, but it didn’t end there. It flowed past her, hung in the air like cheap cologne. She turned and went after Beau. She found him on the front porch, his arms on the railing and one booted foot propped on the bottom rail. Though his position was casual, there was a strain in his muscles that betrayed his feelings.

“Beau? Are you okay?” she asked.

The only response she got was a snort. Something was going on. She watched the man get in a silver Cadillac and pull out of the drive. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t think of anyone she’d met so far that drove a car like that.

“Those damned rustlers,” he growled.

“I’m here if you want to talk,” she offered.

He snorted again, and her heart ached to comfort him. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but froze, uncertain how her touch would be received. Her hand dropped back to her side and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, she returned to the kitchen to help
Charlotte.

"Who was that?" she asked the older woman.

Charlotte folded the dish towel and said, "That was Clyde Rankin."

Beth scooted the chairs in around the table. "He looked familiar. Have I met him before?"

"I doubt it. He's the banker."

Beth's eyebrows inched up and she looked out the window at the cloud of gravel dust kicked up by the Cadillac. She'd never met a banker before that made house calls. Was he the reason for Beau's brusqueness, or was it the rustlers?

Beau's anger about the rustlers was way out of proportion. Or maybe she really didn’t get it, not being a real rancher. Whatever the case, Beth was determined not to get sidetracked by him. She had a ranch to run.  

Over the first few weeks, Beth's days began at the crack of dawn with Katie teaching her how to take care of the horses. She learned to mix grain based on each horse's individual needs, clean their stalls, toss hay down from the loft. Katie taught her how to clean their hooves, check them for injuries every single day. Each animal had his or her own personality, and as she worked beside the ranch workers, she found that running the ranch was complicated, but rewarding.

She was more determined to succeed than ever. She was unsure how Beau fit into the picture. Did he want her to succeed? Or was he trying to make a play for the ranch himself? In spite of her doubts about the ranch foreman, she liked him. He thought generations ahead in the breeding program, was gentle and caring with the horses, and supported his co-workers.

Charlotte and Beth gradually got to know each other as Beth helped with daily chores. The two usually spent evenings watching television together. Katie, the stable girl, joined them frequently on the weekends when she came home from college, sometimes spending the night in the “blue room.”

The girl’s parents owned a small farm that bordered the Diamond J to the south, both worked full time in town and struggled to keep up with their small acreage in their spare time. Though Katie dreamed of having a horse of her own someday when she was out of college and on her own, she made do with “borrowing” horses from the Diamond J. Beth had thought it odd that the girl spent so much time at

the ranch, but she grew to understand. The ranch was home - for ranch hands, the housekeeper, and neighbors.

Within a few weeks, Beth got her car back, nearly as good as new, and settled into the guest bedroom. She rose at the crack of dawn with everyone else, ate breakfast with her employees around the big oak table – Charlotte made incredibly good strawberry pancakes – and then headed to the barn with Beau to help with the morning chores. With Katie's help, she'd learned enough to feel confident helping him.

She told herself it was because he was the logical person to work beside, and that it had nothing to do with wanting a reason to be close to him.

One hot, muggy morning, Beau asked if she wanted to learn how to give a horse a bath. She grabbed a five gallon bucket and flipped it over to form a makeshift seat, then settled in to watch as Beau led Digger into the wash stall. His hands were gentle and strong, and he straightened the horse’s hair under his halter so that it wouldn’t bind or pinch. He was so attentive. Her chest rose and fell with a sigh.

She watched as he leaned over to squirt shampoo into a bucket. “You and my father were close.”

He nodded and filled the bucket with water. The horse snorted at the foam, blowing bits towards Beth. “Your father was a good man.”

Beau dipped a sponge in and began lathering the big horse up, his muscles rippled under his thin t-shirt. As he worked the suds into the animal's coat, he told her the ranch had been a ramshackle mess when John Jameson bought it. The former owner won the lottery, built everything up, then lost interest in the place. The timing was perfect. Beth’s father made a fortune in the stock market investing in dot com ventures, got out just before the bubble burst, and was looking for a place to retire. He rebuilt everything from the ground up to create a first-class horse breeding and training operation, specializing in cutting horses. The top rodeo cowboys in the nation came to the Diamond J Ranch when they were in need of a horse that would win.

She soaked up the history, curious about the man she hadn’t gotten to know. “Did he ever talk about me?”

For a moment, Beth thought that he was going to ignore her question, but after a long pause, he said, “All the time. His dream was you visiting this place, maybe even staying.”

Beth snorted, but she sobered when Beau’s head snapped toward her and his eyes narrowed. Her defenses rose. “He never asked me to visit.”

“Yes, he did. He wasn’t much of a talker, but he wanted you to come. He always put a note in your cards, asking you to come.”

Beth cocked her head to one side and considered that. Cards had appeared in her mailbox the past several years, about a week before her birthday. No letter or personal note, just a sentence scrawled above her father’s signature, but it wasn’t anything she would consider an invitation. “I don’t remember him asking me to come. Ever.”

Beau worked soap into the horse’s mane. His hands were strong, but gentle, and he massaged as he worked. A shiver ran up her spine and across her scalp when she remembered his hands tangled in her hair the night they kissed on the front porch.

"Yes, he did." He shook his head and moved to work on Digger’s tail. “I saw the cards he sent you.”

Beth leaned forward, elbows on her knees and hands dangling. She frowned as she tried to remember. His comments were usually something like “you should see the colts – they’re looking good this year” or “you should see the barn – the new indoor arena is fantastic”. She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead.

Beau stopped in mid-bend, one hand poised over the hose. He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “You okay?”

She stood and stretched, then began to pace in front of the wash stall. “Seriously? He considered ‘you should see this’ or ‘you should see that’ an invitation?”

Water squirted from the hose and the cold overspray showered over her, causing her to flinch. She looked at Beau, saw him smiling and shaking his head. She thought men were dense, and he thought women were. Her father probably had, too. She was waiting for him and he was waiting for her.

Goosebumps covered her arms as a breeze through the alleyway touched her wet skin. Beau stood beside Digger, who was covered with drying lather, holding the hose in one hand. Water splattered against the floor, forgotten. Beth looked at Beau. His eyes met hers, then they dropped a bit lower and she quickly crossed her arms when she realized that the overspray had plastered her cotton t-shirt to her curves.

One corner of his mouth twitched up as he turned his attention back to Digger and rinsed the soap suds off the horse and down the drain. The horse snorted and shook.

She frowned and leaned against the rough wooden wall, arms still crossed. All that time lost. Why hadn't her father just come right out and asked her to visit him?

Beau pushed the hydrant handle down and the sudden silence was heavy. He looped the hose over the hook and said, “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Beth blinked and let her hands drop back to her sides. “Get what? What do you mean?”

“Your daddy loved you. He dreamed of you coming here. You think that pink bedroom was set up for any random overnight guest that came along?” Beau shook his head, snagged a long metal tool from the tack bucket and scraped water from the animal's coat.

Beth pushed away from the wall. “No, it was for his women. Mother told me he was quite the ladies' man.”

"No it wasn't for his women. Stop and think about it," he replied with a grunt and shook his head. “Did the clothes fit you?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. The bedroom. The clothes. It all made sense suddenly.

It was all for her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T
he revelation that her father had truly loved her was a turning point, and she intended to honor his memory by earning her inheritance. It was that simple. Her ongoing challenge was to convince
Beau
that she could be trusted with the Diamond J, that she deserved her inheritance. They set up a recurring meeting in her father's library on the last day of each month, to go over the financials. She wanted to know how she was doing, and he used that time to update her on his breeding and training plans.

The next day, Beth added another task to her routine and perched on the top rail of the fence watching while Beau trained the young horses. Shep, her father’s border collie, sat at her feet just outside the round pen.

The other ranch hands laughed at Beth because she took copious notes. She knew they thought she was writing letters or doodling. In fact, she kept detailed notes about the training of each and every horse on the ranch.

She was determined to know the business inside and out – and that meant knowing the horses. Beth had no experience with horses. No experience with any animals, for that matter, but she had always been a fast learner. A job was a job, and she tackled this one with the same work ethic that had served her well at the firm.

She announced at dinner one evening at the end of May that the ranch would host an Labor Day barbecue, with rodeo cowboys throughout the Midwest invited. She poured over pedigrees, read magazines about horses and studied books on ranch management. Beau often scoffed at her, not about to take the word of a city girl. He indulged her, but she was certain he didn't take her seriously.

Then, one day, she called out to him as he was having trouble with Buck, a two year old sorrel gelding. “Beau, could you work him clockwise again?”

Beau grunted, but held out the long whip and turned the horse. Before he’d gone a quarter of the way around the pen, the horse