Suspicions of the Heart (7 page)

"Wanna tell me about it?" He had
second-guessed her hesitation.

Roscoe wasn't hard to talk to. What was
wrong with her?

"It didn't turn out too well." She
gulped her coffee too quickly and nearly spewed it all over herself
and her Uncle.

"I'm listening." He offered her a
reassuring pat on her shoulder.

She groped for a plausible explanation
for Doug's actions but there was none. Her cheeks pinked under her
Uncle's stern regard.

"It started out okay. We went to one of
the local pubs, had a nice dinner. Doug spared no expense, steaks,
of course."

"And…" he urged, his expression
becoming serious.

"And Gloria and Leroy joined us. Before
I knew it," she raised her eyes to meet the head-on glance her
Uncle was giving her for hedging, "Doug skipped out on me. I was
left with Leroy, and you can imagine what happened
next."

Roscoe shook his head. "You should have
called me."

"Everything turned out
okay."

"In my day, things like this didn't
happen. No, sir, you came with a girl, you left with that girl. But
times have changed. Maybe I ought to have a little talk with
Doug..."

"Please don't," she pleaded. "It's over
and done with, and I won't be repeating that mistake."

"He's a wild one, that Doug. And
Gloria, well I guess you know about her now."

"Yes, I know." Only she didn't. Not
really. Something told her, she would have to bluff her way around
being female. Even with her Uncle. "But Doug has a mind of his own.
He made his choice. He's not really my type anyway."

"I think you're right about that. You
need the kind who you can depend on in a pinch. So, how'd it end
up? Did Leroy do the right thing and bring you home?"

"No, not exactly. I found a ride home,"
she muttered.

"Oh, with who?" He wasn't even looking
at her now, but she knew he was waiting for the answer.

"Joe Munroe."

Roscoe's head flew up and a slow, even
smile formed on his lips. His gray eyes began to twinkle. He had
that, 'I told you he was a good man' look on his face. "That fella
gets around, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does."

Roscoe nodded methodically.

"What do you think about him, Uncle
Roscoe?"

Roscoe took out his tobacco pouch.
"Well, I tell you. Any man that rescues my niece from Leroy
Tompkins can't be all bad. But personally I think he's a hero and
don't know it. Poor fella, born too late. He don't fit in with this
new generation. He's a breed apart. He's stubborn and got more
pride than a Mississippi mule. But the fella does tend to grow on
you, know what I mean?"

Candy knew.

Roscoe rubbed his chin. "I mean, it
seems you kind of take no notice of him at first. 'Course that
might be because he's shorter than most heroes. But he's tall on
principles. I like that."

"He's not short, he's just not--" She
stopped. Why on earth was she defending him? She colored. "He's
average."

"Only in height. Course he ain't no
Doug, but maybe that's a good thing, considering."

"Yes, it is."

"Did he mention he wanted to buy your
land?"

Candy studied her uncle. "Yes, as a
matter of fact, after I brought it up, he did."

Roscoe nodded. "What'd you tell
him?"

"I didn't. He said he knew I wasn't
selling--yet. How'd you know about it?"

"Joe asked me up front. Said he wanted
to expand his boundaries and wanted to know if I thought you'd be
interested in getting rid of it. It's pretty understandable why
he'd want it."

Candy mused over this. Perhaps she had
misjudged Joe's true intentions about the land. At least he had a
reason for his interest. He had directly approached her
Uncle.

"I didn't ask before, but how did it go
with Fargate?"

Candy hesitated, and then glanced at
her Uncle. "Remarkably smooth."

"No problems, huh?"

"No, not really. Why do you suppose Joe
wants to buy my land?"

"To run the Longhorns, I'd
imagine."

"Is that what he told you?"

"Not in so many words. But we got on
the subject. I didn't want to discourage him, but then there wasn't
much chance of that. He's a man that knows what he wants and goes
after it."

Candy finished her coffee and poured
her Uncle another cup. "He does seem pretty determined, doesn't
he?"

"That's a fact."

"You sound as though you think his idea
is pretty sound. So, have you changed your mind?"

"Nah, I'm just not against it. I mean
it has merit. But I been thinking if we're gonna go up there, and
he puts Longhorns on his range, well, we're liable to have all
kinds of trouble keeping those fool animals from knocking down
fences."

"It bothers me that he didn't just come
to me and ask me about it."

"Well," Roscoe soothed, "I told you he
was different. He took it up with the man of the family, like I'd
have done if it were me. You can't fault him for that none, honey.
But those scrawny, tough as leather cows, now that's something to
concern yourself with. Besides, there's no market for
them."

"No, but how could there be? No one's
bothered trying to raise them around here in ages," she said,
realizing she was defending Joe's actions.

"Of course not,and there's a reason.
Those critters never learned to respect barbed wire." He moved his
chaw to its proper place. "It's a real romantic notion, but I'll
stick with the white-faces. Damn reliable animal, and you and I
know it."

There was no point in arguing over
cattle. Once her Uncle decided something it usually stayed that
way. She couldn't fault him; she was the same way. "Uncle Roscoe,
have you been to the ranch lately?"

"Actually, I have been up there a few
times. I was with Hank when he bought the place. I tried to talk
him out of it. But you know how Hank was."

Candy nodded and smiled reflectively.
Her father could be more stubborn than her and Roscoe put together
when he set his mind to something.

"Want me to tell you what's it's like?"
She quirked her head at him.

"It's a grassland prairie. Oh, they've
irrigated the land, turned prime cattle country into farmland. They
been pushin' the rancher and sheep herds clear down into the
valley. But, mark my words, it won't last."

"Why do you say that?" she questioned,
pushing the coffee away.

"'Cause one of these days they are
gonna run out of that all too precious commodity--water. They'll
have to go back to dry farming, and ranching. And that's gonna be
rough on most of them. Once you've had it easy, it's hard to do a
complete turnaround."

Candy put her legs under her, sitting
cross-legged in her chair. "I've never paid much attention to that
part of the state. And I don't know what to expect. Knowing dad,
I'm not expecting much. I doubt if the house will even be livable
from what I've heard from a few of his old cronies. But we can
manage. We have the trailer. Do you think we can fix the place
up?"

"Depends on our assets," Roscoe
drawled, proud he had come up with a proper sounding word. He
wasn't an educated man, at least not from a school, but he was a
well-rounded man who learned his lessons the hard way.

Candy grimaced. She pulled out a
checkbook and glanced at it very quickly. "Dad's account wasn't
very much help, but at least he didn't leave me with any
outstanding debts. And that is something. At least he paid for his
funeral in advance. But, don't fret, I've got a
savings."

Roscoe scratched his chin, then reached
down inside his boot, pulled out another checkbook and flopped it
in front of her on the table. "There's my share. It's enough to buy
some stock with, and get things rollin'. But we'll have to have a
loan to do much good."

"A loan? Oh, Uncle Roscoe, I can't let
you spend your savings."

"Why not? That's what I've been saving
for, the future."

Candy looked into those gray eyes and
began to smile. "Oh, I love you," she cried and got up to hug him.
Drawing away from him slowly, she added, "But how can I get a loan?
I don't have any collateral."

"You got one thing--Lancer."

"Oh, but--"

"Yeah, I know," Roscoe shook his head.
"That'd be askin' too much."

Could she dare put Lancer up as
collateral?

"It's the only way, honey."

"We'll make it, won't we?" she asked,
turning worried brown eyes on him.

"Sure we will," Roscoe returned without
batting an eye.

An hour later they were on their way.
Roscoe drove the old pickup and pulled the double horse trailer
behind. Candy managed her small streamliner behind her old
Pontiac.

It was going to be a long trip, so she
rolled down the windows to let the soft morning breeze nip at her.
To cut out the noise, she turned on the radio.

The rolling valley of beautiful
wildflower dotted meadows and tall, graceful oaks began to fade
into the distance as the day wore on, and prairies took their
place. With it came the stark reality of the vast openness of
space. Panhandle country was very flat, a distinct part of the high
plains of the west.

Harsh winds whipped against the
dust-covered ground, with nothing to break its strength. Sporadic
gossamer clouds danced lazily across the clear blue sky, and the
land screamed its isolation.

Black land soils gave way to sandy
loams of clay and created a thick cover of dust, eroded from
high-reaching mountains to the north. The great cap-rocks were fast
approaching. Even the climate dried the air.

The wind shifted against the car like
an eighteen-wheeler had blown it, and jolted Candy to alertness.
Huge playa lakes stretched into great dents in the ultra-flat
surfaces of the stark land.

As she and Roscoe had planned, they
took a break for a quick lunch.

Roscoe watched her face. "You'll get
used to it. It has a way of growing on you after a
while."

"What formed those playas?"

"They claim they were made by mammoth
buffalo wallers years ago, when the animal roamed the
prairies."

Candy marveled at the land, and how
quickly it had changed. Prairie dog towns peppered the landscape
along the way with their small, but deadly holes. A lizard, parked
on a big rock, basked in the noonday sun. Candy hadn't noticed the
land the last time she was with her father.

A fresh wave of anxiety swept through
her, as they got back on the road. Strengthening her quickly
faltering constitution, she braved onward without complaint. A calm
settled over her as the night darkened the lonely plains and a
oneness formed with land and sky. It felt as though she were
driving into a big, velvet darkness.

Anxiety died as they warily pulled into
the lackluster yard of the Arnold ranch house. To her chagrin, it
was a dilapidated catastrophe with little respite for a long
journey ended. The decadence of the structures before her left her
still. She had a premonition, but refuted its validity. She knew
her father had always put things off, but this, this was
ridiculous.

For a long moment she sat, reticent.
Turbulent thoughts crossed her mind. Fargate had been right about
one thing. This was no place for a woman. Selling might be the best
way out of this mess. She might break even. Let them have this
God-forsaken land.

Timerous of the future, she sighed
heavily. It didn't do much good, but she reprimanded herself for
expecting more.

"This is it," Roscoe announced as he
got out of his truck and came to stand beside her. "Wanna turn
around and go back?"

"Could we?"

"If that's what you want." He nodded, a
slow spreading frown knitting his brow.

She shook her head. "No, we're here.
And here we'll stay."

"We sure got our work cut out for
us."

"Maybe, but not tonight." She faced
him. "I've got cold cuts in the fridge and a few bottles of soda.
Wanna eat and turn in early?"

"Sounds good to me. I'll get us a
flashlight."

"Good, I've got some candles inside.
We've got a big water jug inside, we'll make out until we get some
electricity out here." She fumbled in her purse for the keys to the
trailer.

A few minutes later she and Roscoe sat
exhausted in front of a pile of sandwiches, chips and soft
drinks.

"How come you only came up that once,
when your dad was real sick?" Roscoe asked.

"Want the truth?"

"Yes."

"Because dad and I didn't get along too
well after I left Fargate. He liked him, 'til his dying day. I'll
never understand why. Dad and I rarely agreed on people, though.
Once I was married, he wanted me to stay that way, and to Fargate.
Sometimes I feel a little guilty."