Rancher's Deadly Risk (8 page)

Regardless, he wouldn’t put a dollar value on his way of life, and he wouldn’t give up his legacy.

Cassie spoke as they headed out of town. “The shortening of the days is more obvious here than when I lived down south.”

“I imagine it would be.” It was an innocuous line of conversation, covering a topic they both knew.

“I’d forgotten,” she said. “You get used to the difference in latitude quickly and don’t even think about it. By next spring I probably won’t even notice anymore.”

“It’s not as remarkable here as some places even farther north. Funny story. I was visiting a friend up in Canada one summer and I couldn’t figure out why I was waking up so late every morning. I mean, the day was dang near half-gone. My friend laughed and suggested I look at the time I was going to bed. I was running by the sun and it amazed me to realize a couple of hours after sunset up there was the wee hours of the morning. I was getting to bed around 2:00 a.m. without even realizing it.”

She laughed. “I’m not sure I could handle it up around the Arctic Circle. The long days would be one thing, but I think the endless nights might be too much.”

“They are even for some folks who grow up there.”

She fell silent then, appearing content to look out at the darkening countryside as they passed. A while later she remarked on all the tumbleweed caught in fences. “I had no idea it could get that big.”

“Most of the time it gets hung up somewhere on the fences, but if the wind gets really stiff, look out. It can blow loose and be a driving hazard.”

“So you have goats and sheep?”

“Yeah. And a few horses.”

“Is your ranch a going concern? Or just something you do in addition to teaching?”

He thought about that a bit before answering because it wasn’t something he had really settled with himself. “I like teaching. I like coaching football. But I also like working around the ranch. I guess I’m fortunate my spread isn’t big enough to really make it full-time. Once it would have been, but not now. Economics have changed for small ranches.”

“That’s sad.”

He shrugged. “The world changes. I get variety in exchange.”

He glanced over and saw she had twisted in her seat to look at him. “But if you could make it full-time...?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to get some additional land, or find some grazing to lease. Some of my neighbors lease out their land. Others lease it from them. And of course, there are grazing rights I could get on public lands. The thing is, unless you’re a really big operation these days, it doesn’t take much to break you. So it’s best to just do it this way.”

“A lot of people don’t know it, but not so long ago Florida was the second largest cattle producer in the country.”

“So you saw a lot of ranches?”

“Huge ones. Then we had a really bad drought. Maybe you remember it. We had to import hay and feed from all over the country. I never saw so many skinny cattle in my life. Bones sticking out. Water was so scarce the alligators were on the move looking for any pond they could find and sadly many didn’t make it. Anyway, after that a lot of the ranches in my area started selling off large parcels for subdivisions and shopping centers. It kind of felt like it was one straw too many for some of our biggest ranches.”

He shook his head. “There are advantages to staying small. At least I know I can get through those times. The big guys get into serious trouble fast. I’m sorry.”

“It was sad,” she agreed. “A whole way of life started vanishing. I can only imagine how hard it was on those families. At least some of them had a way out.”

He felt a pang of sympathy for those ranchers. How could he not? But he wanted to keep the conversation cheerful. “Did I just hear you offer sympathy to gators?”

A laugh escaped her, a pleasant, happy sound. “You bet. It’s possible to coexist with them, you know. And they were there before we moved in on them. All you have to do is treat nature with respect.”

“So I take it you’d advocate for wolves.”

“I would. How about you?”

“I’m all for it. They improve the ecosystem. Sure, I lose the occasional lamb or kid, but I was losing them to coyotes long before the wolves were reintroduced.”

“How do your protect your herds?”

“Dogs. Big, great, wonderful, furry dogs. Bears hate ’em, wolves avoid them and coyotes run like hell. Be prepared to get jumped on and licked to death. Other than charging them with taking care of the sheep and goats, I pretty much just let ’em be dogs.”

She laughed again. “I like that.”

Martha sure hadn’t. Her idea of a dog was something that could sit on her lap, smell like perfume and wear a bow. She really hadn’t been able to handle his dusty, dirty, grubby working dogs.

Well, he’d see how this one reacted soon enough.

It was nearly dark by the time they reached the ranch. Cloud cover eliminated any light at all, so he asked Cassie to remain in the truck while he turned on the security lights. He used them only when it couldn’t be avoided and he hated to think about the energy they burned since they were essentially floodlights, much brighter than streetlights.

But they had the predictable effect. As soon as they flipped on, sheep and goats began to hurry toward the fence looking for the additional feed he gave them, and the dogs, who had started waiting joyously probably long before he even reached his driveway, were barking wildly. They knew he’d give them treats after their hard work, chewy stuff that tasted like bacon and turkey, which they gobbled down before even going for their kibble.

The horses were calmer, coming to the pasture fence at a more sedate pace. Of course, they’d probably done a lot more running during the day than the sheep or goats.

He heard Cassie crunch across autumn-dry grass toward him as he watched the gathering.

“You have more animals than I thought,” she remarked. “Are goats friendly?”

“A goat would move in with you if she could. At least these would. They come closer to being pets than the sheep, actually.”

“How neat! What can I do to help?”

That was a question Martha hadn’t asked, not the first time. In fact, come to think of it, he couldn’t remember her ever offering to help without being asked.

Cassie, on the other hand, dove right in, seeming glad to do everything he asked. And when she went to feed the dogs for him, the six big gangbusters managed to knock her to the ground in their eagerness. Kibble flew everywhere. She sat on her butt, looking astonished, and he started to race toward her, but then she laughed and accepted all the gentle butting and didn’t even complain when she got her face licked.

No, she dug her hands into dusty fur and scratched every animal she could reach. They approved, clearly, and ignored him for the moment.

“A love affair begins,” he drawled, leaning against the fence post.

She grinned up at him. “But I spilled their food. How will they eat? Do I need to get more?”

“They’ll find it. That’s what they have noses for.” He pulled a bag of treats out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it. “One each.”

The dogs knew what was coming. They swarmed her anew, and her laughter filled the night. He could feel his own face stretching into a grin. He hadn’t expected this at all. Not for one second.

She struggled to her feet before opening the treat bag. There was one bit of manners Linc insisted on, and he said, “Tell them to sit before you give them treats. Just hold out your hand palm down and say
sit
.”

She followed his direction and instantly had six dogs sitting facing her. They jostled each other a bit, but kept their butts on the ground.

She giggled again.

“Don’t let them snap it from you. If one of them tries just say ‘no’ sharply.”

Barking had turned to impatient whines, but much to his relief they behaved perfectly. They were big dogs, part herders and part other breeds, certainly one that wasn’t afraid of bears. He had no idea anymore. These dogs had all descended from the first dogs on the ranch and whatever else they’d mated with over the years. Letting the dogs pretty much have free rein outdoors meant that litters were often indeterminate. There might even be some wolf in there now among the younger dogs for all he knew. He even suspected some coyote. He kept the population down, though, by neutering all but one breeding pair. As it was, he still had plenty of requests for puppies from other ranchers.

“They’re good dogs,” he remarked. “They do most of the hard work for me.”

“The best helpers in the world, I imagine.”

She petted them some more, seeming almost reluctant to leave them, but when he moved on to tend to the sheep and goats, she followed along and helped. She appeared enchanted by both, never made a complaint about them being smelly, and then was delighted when she was able to help him stable the three horses.

“Horses are so beautiful,” she remarked while he checked hooves then gave them all fresh hay and a little bit of oats. “Do you ride often?”

“As often as time allows. Not so much in the fall, what with football.”

“I’ve only ridden once, when I was little kid, and was led around by a bridle.”

“We’ll have to do something about that.” As soon as the words popped out, he could almost see them written in the air. What the hell was he thinking? He’d brought her out here to turn her off, not offer to see her again.

Instead she’d shattered all his preconceptions about her, and now he was offering to take her riding? He considered banging his head on a stall post to get his brain back into working order.

Too late. Well, he reassured himself, he was busy with football, and they had this whole bullying thing to deal with. He could reasonably avoid having time to take her riding until spring. And by then, she’d probably be crying uncle about this whole middle-of-nowhere place, and pining to have a bagel shop around the corner or something.

The nights were growing chilly enough that he blanketed the horses because they couldn’t move much to keep warm. On the coldest nights he could blow heat into this barn, but like everything else, he did his best to conserve by avoiding it as much as possible.

He should have taken her home then, but he didn’t like to be needlessly rude, even to protect himself. Instead, he invited her in for a hot drink and light snack. She might as well see the rest of it, the farmhouse that had seen better days, the furnishings left over from earlier generations. There was a difference between maintenance and decorating, and while he was good at the former, he had little interest in the latter. And, frankly, little enough money to waste on nonessentials. Or maybe that was largely his preference. If it served its purpose, it was good enough for him.

The kitchen was an old farmhouse kitchen, huge enough to feed the hands when necessary. The days when this place had been able to hire hands were past, but the kitchen and its long trestle table remained, as did the huge mudroom leading into it.

If he let himself think about it, he could hear better times almost whispering around him. Better times for the ranch, that was. He certainly didn’t think his own times were bad.

Cassie stood on the threshold blinking. “Did you guys build for an army?”

He had to laugh as he motioned her to the table. “Families were a lot bigger in the old days. And back then we had hired hands to feed, too.”

She sat, watching him as he moved around making some hot chocolate and breaking out some cookies. “What changed, Linc?”

“The times. After the Second World War, everybody but my grandfather moved away. The G.I. Bill helped with that, I guess. Regardless, my great-grandfather also broke up the land, so his kids could have a share. From the stories I hear, it didn’t make much difference because everyone was working together anyway. But after the war...” He shrugged. “My granddad bought them back as everyone started moving away. We’ve still got a few thousand acres but the economics of things now make them almost pointless to put into use. You could call it splendid isolation.”

A smile flickered over her features as he turned toward her to put the cookies on the table, but his face looked almost sad. “How do you feel about that?” she asked.

“I’m okay with it. I keep my hand in, I sell wool, I sell lambs, and keep it to a level I can manage.”

“Do you ever see it changing?”

He poured the cocoa from the pan into two mugs. “Not anytime soon.”

She grew thoughtful and quiet, and he let her be as he joined her to sip his beverage and eat a store-bought cookie.

“It’s funny,” she said after a while. “Some things are growing rapidly, and other things are shrinking.”

“Times change, needs change. Cultures move on.”

“I know, but I’m not sure that’s always good.”

“Right now it’s good for the land out there. I didn’t just happen into biology by accident. I get a kick out of watching nature move back in.”

“Your own little eco-sanctuary?”

He had to smile. “I guess so.”

The thermostat had kicked on a little while ago, raising the house from its daytime setting of sixty to a more comfortable sixty-eight for the evening. As the room warmed, he began to detect Cassie’s scents—aromas of laundry soap, shampoo and woman. Most especially woman. It was faint, but as it hit him, he knew he’d better get her home soon.

Then she tugged her jacket off and he got a whiff that filled him with an instant longing so strong his jeans felt tight. Not good. Had he been crazy? Had he really thought that bringing her out here to see the reality of his life would cause
her
to put up a wall between them?

Because she wasn’t acting as if it had. She had honestly seemed to enjoy it all. Maybe that was its newness, but it certainly hadn’t worked for turning her away yet.

Instead he would now have the powerful memory of her sitting in his kitchen and smelling like temptation personified.

Yep, he’d been an idiot.

But there was no denying he liked having her here. Liked seeing another face across the table, liked the scents of woman that wafted around him. Liked not being alone.

Even though alone was where he was going to wind up. She’d never stay. Never. She might as well be trying life out on Mars.