Книга - The Texas Rancher’s Return

The Texas Rancher's Return
Allie Pleiter


The Cowboy’s Second ChanceBlack-sheep cowboy Gunner Buckton is home for one reason—to keep Blue Thorn Ranch in his family where it's been for generations. No one—not even Brooke Calder—will take it from him. The cute, down-home widow may not look like a slick developer, but she works for one. Along with her adorable daughter, she's a threat to his homestead—and to his wounded heart. Brooke needs this job. Gunner may be as ornery as a bull, but it's her task to win him over. The battle lines are drawn. Only problem is, around the handsome Texan, she doesn't know which side she's on.







The Cowboy’s Second Chance

Black-sheep cowboy Gunner Buckton is home for one reason—to keep Blue Thorn Ranch in his family where it’s been for generations. No one—not even Brooke Calder—will take it from him. The cute, down-home widow may not look like a slick developer, but she works for one. Along with her adorable daughter, she’s a threat to his homestead—and to his wounded heart. Brooke needs this job. Gunner may be as ornery as a bull, but it’s her task to win him over. The battle lines are drawn. Only problem is, around the handsome Texan, she doesn’t know which side she’s on.


He was one hundred percent cowboy…

…and he was shaking his head. “If you like your men principled like your late husband, I’m not going to look so good. I’m sorry I brought him up.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s silly to pretend he’s not here.”

“Is he?”

She knew what he meant. She’d thought the land development was the wedge between them; she hadn’t realized her late husband might be the true obstacle. “I don’t know.”

“When two male bison want the same female, they fight it out.”

“You’re ready to lock horns over me?”

“I know better than to lock horns with a memory. You said it—no one wins a standoff.”

Attraction warred with caution, making her heart pound and twist. “So now what?”

“We go back to the way things were. Bring on your persuasion campaign. But know this, darlin’—I won’t sell my land. Not now, not ever.”

She dragged her gaze away, looking at the awe-inspiring Texas pastures. She knew how he felt about his land. How did she feel about the cowboy?


ALLIE PLEITER, an award-winning author and RITA® Award finalist, writes both fiction and nonfiction. Her passion for knitting shows up in many of her books and all over her life. Entirely too fond of French macarons and lemon meringue pie, Allie spends her days writing books and avoiding housework. Allie grew up in Connecticut, holds a BS in speech from Northwestern University and lives near Chicago, Illinois.


The Texas Rancher’s Return

Return Allie Pleiter






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Live a life worthy of the calling you have received.

—Ephesians 4:1


To Charlene

For so many breakfasts,

in the hopes of so many more


Acknowledgments (#ulink_6dcc692a-f646-585d-ae77-f0485f7d7a6a)

Special thanks to Beverly Brown

and Donnis Baggett, the owners of the

Lucky B Bison Ranch in Bryan, Texas.

Their hospitality, enthusiasm, generosity in

sharing information and tolerance of

my endless questions have been some of the

great blessings in writing this book.


Contents

Cover (#u38329431-705d-5d7b-9ae8-d30fc354a709)

Back Cover Text (#udcdd64b0-db28-53b2-a987-5a784bc4d0c0)

Introduction (#u132d16bf-205d-5c7e-8e6a-b0b3e666896a)

About the Author (#udb2cd92a-e7e9-5db6-81e8-ff0a8af3682d)

Title Page (#u568bd471-2cc3-5c5f-a32c-a2917aa2bb10)

Bible Verse (#ub19e549f-a6dc-5bef-a587-7ee0e8ed1ad6)

Dedication (#u425436cd-6b6c-54bc-98f7-e921bad0d5da)

Acknowledgments (#ulink_699fc728-ee60-58fc-a1fa-5392149b0865)

Chapter One (#ulink_adb1e67f-cca4-5028-90ae-cf30c1e2c4d8)

Chapter Two (#ulink_ad20746c-5dc9-579a-9841-68548b464a57)

Chapter Three (#ulink_7b4db83b-d1de-572e-abe2-084f12bb27bf)

Chapter Four (#ulink_96c0f921-7f61-5f92-82dc-22e25d82ccb7)

Chapter Five (#ulink_8bc93562-f7e7-5eca-8242-7aa1c97f5e41)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_4bcc5a65-9941-59a0-9cf9-b7f9114a6275)

“Could you please move your buffalo?”

Brooke Calder looked out her car windshield to squint suspiciously at the hairy brown beast currently staring down her hatchback. Buffalo didn’t charge, did they? Stampede, maybe, but she wasn’t about to get a set of horns impaled in her front grill, was she? She leaned out the driver’s-side window and smiled at the cowboy who had just ridden up beside her car.

The tall man tipped his hat with an amused grin and moved his horse closer to the car. “Daisy is a bison, ma’am. And she don’t always cooperate, so I hope you’re not in a hurry.”

She was. These days Brooke was always in a hurry.

She applied her sweetest community-relations voice. “As a matter of fact, I am. So if it’s not too much trouble, can you please get her off the road?” The bison’s human companion looked a bit scruffy around the edges—handsome, but definitely too young and rough-hewn to be one of the shiny-suited ranchers she often had to deal with as a community-relations specialist for DelTex Real Estate Developments. A ranch hand? Foreman, more likely. He sat his horse with a commanding air of power.

He leaned toward her, widening the grin. “I’d like to oblige, but Daisy may not be interested in playing nice today.”

Brooke couldn’t imagine what days bison chose to play nice. “Is she a wanderer?”

“No, just pregnant. Very. Mamas don’t usually stray away from the herd unless they’re looking for a quiet place to give birth.”

Daisy shifted her weight and gave a low, rumbling moan. Brooke didn’t know too many people who’d consider the middle of the road a dandy place for child—calf-birth. Buffalo—bison, Brooke corrected her thoughts, were supposed to be intelligent animals. She’d never win a strength battle of brute animal vs. compact car, so perhaps diplomacy was the way to go here. She leaned out the window to speak in a direct, friendly address. “Congratulations, Daisy. If you’d be so kind as to move, I want to get home to my little girl, too. I’m sure you understand, so could you give me a couple of feet to ease on by?” The ground on either side of the road was muddy, and Brooke didn’t want to chance getting stuck by going off-road in a car definitely not designed for off-roading.

The man pulled his horse up to stand even with the creature, who swung her enormous head to look at him. She had pretty eyes—huge and chocolate-brown, with a wise kind of character to them. “What do you say, Daisy? Shall we let the lady pass?”

Daisy did not seem inclined to move.

“Please, Daisy?” Brooke couldn’t believe she was pleading with a giant wall of brown fur.

“Let’s just give her a minute.” The rancher adjusted his hat. “So, what brings you all the way out here, ma’am?”

“I just came from a meeting over at Ramble Acres.”

That caught his attention. He sidled the horse back to her window while Brooke calculated how much of a late fee she’d incur by picking Audie up past six at day care. Again. “You with DelTex?” His tone made it clear that this would not be a mark in her favor.

“I’m Brooke Calder. I work for Jace Markham in the community-relations department.”

A sour expression overtook the man’s face. “Jace Markham at DelTex. Huh.” The words had a definite edge, and Brooke began to wonder if he’d instruct Daisy to stay put for a week or two.

“Do you know Markham, Mr....?”

“Buckton. Gunner Buckton. Junior, that is.”

Oh. The possibility of bison horns in her front grill increased considerably. While Brooke wasn’t intimately familiar with all the details, she was aware of a file in the office—a thick one, at that—with the Buckton name on it. It wasn’t full of fan letters to DelTex, that was for sure. Somehow she’d associated the ranch with Gunner Buckton the senior, but he’d passed a while back, hadn’t he? This meant Mr. Markham had been locking horns for the past few months with Gunner Buckton Junior, the man currently beside her on horseback.

Buckton’s now-scowling demeanor didn’t bode well for any assistance getting Daisy to move. He looked more prone to inciting Daisy to charge, if bison did that sort of thing. Then again, on a hot afternoon at eight months pregnant, Brooke had been easy to incite, too. The memory of her late husband calling her “Bronco Brooke” while rubbing her very swollen feet shot into her mind and she swallowed hard. Be nice to the very pregnant bison, Brooke, and maybe she’ll move out of the way.

Buckton’s eyes narrowed under the shadow of his hat. She could almost watch him choose to keep a polite tone as he asked, “What DelTex business brings you onto Blue Thorn land, Ms. Calder?”

Brooke looked down at the pavement below her wheels. “I wasn’t aware I was on Blue Thorn land, Mr. Buckton. I’m next to it—” she nodded toward the fence just behind him “—but just passing through on my way back into Austin. That is until Daisy decided to play roadblock.” She could do without the suspicious glare touching the corner of the man’s startling blue eyes.

“She’s just looking for some solitude,” Buckton said, shifting his gaze back and forth between Brooke and Daisy. “She wants a little space to share with the young’un when the time comes.”

“Don’t we all?” Brooke replied. When was the last time she’d spent an unhurried afternoon with Audie? Suspecting she’d lost her chances with the rancher, Brooke leaned out the window to try again with the bison. “Mama to mama, Daisy, could we hurry things along? I expect we all want to get home to supper.”

Daisy actually snorted in reply but didn’t move. Brooke began to feel like snorting herself. “Is that bison for yes or no?” At the moment, it looked like bison for I’ll take an hour or so to think it over.

“I really don’t want to be late picking up my daughter.” She wasn’t quite sure if she should address her plea to Buckton or Daisy. Neither seemed all that inclined to listen to her.

Buckton scratched his chin. He was rather nice-looking for someone not so nice. “Did you try your horn?”

“Of course I did. First thing, but...” The flimsy, near-silly horn was one of the things Brooke hated most about her little car. She demonstrated its cartoonish beep again for the rancher, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. To Brooke’s dismay, Daisy lifted one hoof as if investigating whether she’d stepped on a squeaky toy.

Buckton snickered. “I see your point.” He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a laugh. “Baby ducks wouldn’t get out of the way of that horn.”

Brooke didn’t have time for this little standoff. She made a show of looking at her watch, then up at the rancher. “I really am in a bit of a time crunch here. Can you think of anything that might get Daisy to move? I’d be obliged.”

Buckton looked at her for a long minute, his sky-blue eyes piercing under the shade of his hat brim. Hadn’t she read somewhere that all the Bucktons had the same striking turquoise eyes? Was that where the ranch name had come from? Mr. Markham had certainly made his share of jokes about the Blue Thorn being the “Big Thorn” in his side. Brooke offered Buckton a “pretty please” smile and checked her watch again. Audie hated it when she was the last child to be picked up from day care, and her lonely face sitting on the center steps never failed to make Brooke feel like the Worst Parent of the Year.

Buckton seemed to ponder his options for a moment then suddenly wheeled his horse around and shouted, “Hee-ya, girl!” at the massive bison. Daisy lifted her nose from its inspection of Brooke’s car hood, swung her huge head between horse and car and then unceremoniously lumbered off in the direction of the open gate Brooke saw down the road. Without a single look back, Gunner Buckton followed his beast.

“Well,” Brooke said to the empty car, “if I’d have known yelling at it would have worked...” She called out a cheery “Thank you!” as she drove past Buckton while he swung down off the saddle, presumably to shut the gate behind Daisy.

He simply tipped his hat as she drove by, but when she checked her rearview mirror a few seconds later, he was still standing by the gate, staring at her little car as it hummed down the road.

She’d met the legendary Gunner Buckton Junior. Brooke didn’t know if that made things better or worse for the troubled relationship between that man and her boss. Right now the only thing she knew for certain was that it made her late.

* * *

Gunner shoved his saddle onto its stand in the horse barn tack room with a bit too much force. The action made his foreman, Billy Flatrock, look up from his work, one bushy eyebrow raised in inquiry. “What’s up with you?”

“You’ll never guess who Daisy introduced me to this afternoon.” Gunner took off his gloves and whacked them against his pant leg, raising up a cloud of yellow dust that swirled in the ribbons of slanted gold light coming through the barn windows.

“Daisy making introductions? I know she’s good with people but I didn’t think she was feeling so friendly now.” Billy shook his head as he squinted at one of his tools.

“She’s gonna calve early, Billy. I’m sure of it with the way she’s behaving.”

“Yep. She’ll be our first this year,” the Native American confirmed.

Gunner watched the sediment—the dust of his land—slowly settle to his boots. It had been a wet spring, but the air had the smell of a long, dry summer. Would a drought play right into DelTex’s land-grabbing hands? “Actually, it wasn’t much of an introduction. Closer to a standoff, really.” It was kind of fun to watch Daisy stare down the pretty little gal from DelTex’s offices right there in the middle of the road.

“Sounds more like one of the bulls than Daisy.”

Gunner sat down on the nearest of the dozen or so wooden storage lockers that lined the tack room. “She got out again, Billy. Through the northwest fence. We’ve gotta find a way to keep that gate locked until we can replace it. If she’d have crossed over onto Larkey’s land, it wouldn’t have ended well.”

“We got more than enough creek on our side of the fence. She don’t need what’s on Larkey’s. She’ll get stuck in the mud one of these days if she keeps that up. I keep tellin’ her she ain’t no water buffalo, but I don’t think she pays me any mind.” Billy was a trusted friend, and one of Gunner’s few allies when he had first returned to the Blue Thorn. One of the last few members of the Tonkawa tribe, Billy claimed to have conversations with several of the animals on the ranch and knew so many uncanny things that no one could work up the courage to question his claims. Even the vet was known to ask Billy’s opinion now and then on a particular animal’s state of mind.

The amusing image of Brooke Calder’s baby-blue car came to him again, idling like an impatient toddler in front of Daisy’s curious black nose. “Daisy was standing in the middle of the road, blocking this DelTex lady’s car from getting by.” He didn’t buy her “just passing through on my way back from Ramble Acres” story. No matter her pretty looks, Gunner knew the kind of folks who worked for DelTex. There wasn’t a one of them who could be trusted.

Billy’s bushy gray eyebrows knotted together. “DelTex, huh?”

Gunner picked a bit of grass off his hat as he ran his fingers around the worn rim. “Young. Nice-looking. She works for Jace Markham.”

“Markham.” Billy spat the word out as if it tasted bad as he returned one tool to his box and picked up another to inspect. Markham and his DelTex buddies had been trying for a long time to convince Gunner and his family to sell the land surrounding his back creek. “I guess I’m glad Daisy blocked her in the road.”

Gunner hadn’t minded it too much himself—except for a hint of guilt over what she’d said about needing to pick up her daughter. Had that been the truth? Brooke looked about his age, but he didn’t recall seeing a wedding band on her hand. There was definitely one of those child booster things in the backseat of her car, though. “Are they trying some new tactic on us? After all, I’ve always figured anyone who worked for DelTex ought to look...” He searched for the least mean word, coming up empty. He’d imagined anyone who worked for Jace Markham to look more...reptilian.

“Like Daisy?” Billy let out a laugh that quickly dissolved into a cough. The man’s long years on the Blue Thorn were catching up with him.

“Yeah, like Daisy.”

The older man wheezed his agreement into a bright blue bandanna handkerchief. Everyone at the Blue Thorn carried or wore the blue bandanna—one of Dad’s silly traditions no one had the heart to give up, even though the man had been gone over a year now. “Guess that means that Ramble Acres business is starting up again?” Billy commented.

“Hasn’t ever stopped, really.” Ramble Acres may look like some pretty development on their shiny brochures, but once it got built, Gunner knew what it really meant for Blue Thorn Ranch and many other area properties. Growing housing developments meant ranch land would disappear in the name of condos and shopping centers.

“That’s no good.” Billy stood up—the creaky process of unfolding his long legs bringing an extended groan from the man. There weren’t many people on the Blue Thorn taller than Gunner. Even though Billy was well into his sixties, he stood six-three. When Gunner was five, he’d believed the stories his dad told him about Billy’s dad being from a tribe of giants that rose up out of the creek.

“No, it isn’t good. I’ve told him we’re not selling that land around the creek, but they don’t seem to listen.” No fancy developer was going to buy any piece of his creek.

“It ain’t right, I tell you.” Billy settled his hat on his head.

“I won’t let them have our land or our water.” Big words, but even Gunner knew that ranchers hardly ever won such battles—especially against behemoth companies like DelTex.

Billy put a hand to Gunner’s shoulder. “It’ve killed your papa to give up one inch to those idiot developers.” Some people thought the upscale residential development going in near the Blue Thorn was a fine idea. Too many ranchers were tired of the hardships of the ranching life and ready to sell, so they welcomed developers with deep pockets like DelTex. Gunner, like his father before him, wasn’t ready to sell off any land, but it was getting harder and harder to hold the line.

You can’t have my land, no matter how many pretty ladies you send to bat their eyes at me, Gunner challenged them silently in his mind as he pulled the tack room door shut. It ain’t yours to take, ever.


Chapter Two (#ulink_7548c8e4-b036-5b0c-95ff-952e2e245705)

“I hate it when you’re last.” At the tender age of eight, Audie had already mastered a guilt-inducing pout that could turn Brooke’s gut to rock in seconds.

She picked up her daughter’s backpack, waving goodbye to the after-school day-care worker, who offered a smile that was half sympathy, half judgment. “I hate being last, honey.” She forced enthusiasm into her voice. “But I have a great story why. Perfect taco-night conversation.”

Friday night tacos had been a tradition since Audie was old enough to eat them, and it helped to put the stress of the working week to bed for both of them. While the rest of single parenting often eluded her, Friday Tacos for Two was one of the things Brooke felt she got right. Jim’s death two years ago had left them both reeling, and since the Friday Taco Trio that was his idea was no longer an option, Friday Tacos for Two had been one of a hundred reinventions life had forced on them.

“I pick Edie’s,” Audie announced as she flipped the passenger seat forward and crawled into her booster in the car’s tiny backseat. Each Friday, Audie could choose which of the four local taco joints would serve their feast. Audie was never short of opinions on any subject, so Brooke liked to give her opportunities to choose whenever she could. Brooke scanned the shrinking space between Audie’s pigtails and the car roof—in another year, she’d need a new car. She needed a new lots of things, which made the well-paying job she’d only recently landed at DelTex such a relief.

“Good choice.” Brooke nodded as she twisted the key in the ignition, noting the hesitant hiccup in the car’s ignition with a hint of concern.

“So what made you late?”

Brooke gave a silent prayer of thanks that Audie hadn’t added “this time.” She was late more often than she liked, but she had to hold her own with a lot of DelTex’s other staffers, who seemed to have no other commitments in life than Margarita Night at the local roadhouse.

“Oh, this is a good one,” Brooke teased, catching Audie’s dark brown eyes in the rearview mirror as she pulled out onto the avenue. “But you’ll have to tell me about your day first before you get this story over tacos.”

Audie shrugged—a gesture so much like her father that Brooke felt a familiar ache of grief rise and push under her ribs. “Nothin’ really happened. Melissa’s still mad at Luke. Oh, Maria and me got partnered for a science project.”

A third-grade science project. Brooke had visions of shoe-box dioramas or poster boards. Given her marketing and presentation skills, Brooke thought this might be one parenting area she could ace. “What about?”

“Native Texan animals.”

“Any in particular?”

“We can pick one we like. Of course Robbie and Jake chose longhorns, and Steve and Marcus chose bats. Maria and I were thinking about buffalos or armadillos.”

Brooke raised an eyebrow. “No kidding! Then you’re really gonna want to hear my dinner story. You’ll be glad I was late by the time I’m done telling you what happened to me today.” Thanks, Lord. Brooke shot a sigh of gratitude heavenward as she pulled into Edie’s Taco Patio, glad to feel a genuine smile fill her face.

“Why?”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not getting it out of me before table grace, you sneaky little girl. Come on, let’s eat.”

Audie scrambled out of the seat the moment the car was turned off, all traces of her former gloom gone, replaced by a wide, expectant grin Brooke felt down to her toes. “Did you squash an armadillo with your car? Is that why you’re late?”

Brooke ignored the dig and mimed zipping her lip into silence as she pulled open the restaurant door. If she played her cards right, getting blocked by the giant mama bison wouldn’t end up being the disaster she’d beaten herself up for the entire drive to Audie’s day care.

“Soooo?” Audie pleaded the minute they were seated with a pair of tacos each, her daughter’s eyes wide and brown as a cow’s—or was that a bison’s?

“Grace first,” Brooke countered, gratified that most of the frantic sourness of her 5:55 pickup had evaporated. She bowed her head, but stole a look up for her favorite sight in all the world: Audie’s small pink hands folded in prayer, the full brown lashes of her closed eyes lush against rosy cheeks. Was there a sweeter sight this side of heaven? “Dear God, thank You for these tacos and our time together. Thank You for all You provide, and may we always be truly thankful.” She waited for Audie’s contribution to the prayer, for they each took part in table grace.

“Thank You that Hammie’s okay and that Alex doesn’t hate Benjamin anymore. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

“Something happened to Hammie?” Brooke inquired, wondering what had jeopardized the fate of the class hamster.

Audie took a bite of taco. “Jenna dropped him,” she said with her mouth full, earning a you know better scowl from Brooke. “Story!” she pleaded after a dramatic display of swallowing, nearly bouncing in her seat with anticipation.

“I met a real buffalo—a bison—today. Up close. Her name was Daisy, and she sniffed the hood of my car so close I bet she left nose prints.”

“No kidding? A real live bison? Mrs. Cleydon told me that’s their real name, not buffalo.”

“So you know that already. I didn’t—at least not before today.” Brooke pointed at Audie. “See, you’re already smarter than me on the subject.”

“How big was she?”

“Huge. She filled the whole road. Blocked it, even. I had to sit there until her owner came by and nudged her out of the way. That’s why I was late—last,” she corrected, trying to remember that she wasn’t technically late and fined unless she showed up after 6:00 p.m. “A mama bison. Well, soon to be—she’s going to have a calf soon.”

“A baby bison?” Audie’s pigtails bobbed. “Are they cute?”

Brooke thought of the massive head with the enormous brown eyes that stared her down on the road and tried to imagine it miniaturized into baby form. Impressive, maybe, but not cute. Then again, the man who’d ridden to her aid could be called both impressive and cute, if she were inclined to classify, but there were several dozen professional reasons not to pursue that avenue.

“So when I can meet them?”

“The ranchers?” Gunner Buckton didn’t look like the kind of man to take a shine to field trips.

“No, silly, the mama bison. That’d make the best report ever—totally better than armadillos. Maria and I would get an A for sure. Please, Mom? Can I?”

Suddenly, this didn’t seem like the academic ace in the hole anymore. For all her community-relations skills, Buckton didn’t seem likely to cooperate if she came to him with a request for an “up close and personal” with one of his herd. “I don’t know.”

“I could interview the man who owns her. I could interview the mama bison. Get my picture with her. That’d be loads better than just looking stuff up on the internet. Maria would just die if we could add that to our report.”

The eagerness in Audie’s eyes made Brooke want to cringe. “He’s just someone Mommy met on the road. I don’t think he’ll say yes.”

“I thought you told me sometimes your job was to help people say yes to things.”

Brooke suddenly regretted her oversimplified explanation of corporate community relations. “That’s true, but maybe not in this case. The rancher and the company I work for are...well, we’re sort of in an argument.” She could think of no other way to explain real-estate conflicts to an eight-year-old bent on bison interaction. Still, the timing seemed too good to ignore. “Well,” she hedged, “we’d have to ask very nicely and be okay if he said no.”

Audie licked taco sauce off her thumb. “I could do that. I could tell him it’s for school and everything. Could we ask tomorrow? I’d give anything to tell Maria I met a bison for real when we get back on Monday.”

Even if he declined, Gunner Buckton at least didn’t seem like the kind of man to be mean to an eight-year-old asking to do a school report. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? “Okay, honey. But remember, he may say no.”

Audie rolled her eyes. “I get that, Mom. You said it already.”

“Tell you what—if he does, maybe I can look around online and find another bison rancher.” Were there many around? Cattle, yes, but bison? She’d better come up with some truly persuasive tactic when she made that call.

Audie smiled. “You’re the best, Mom.” She air-kissed Brooke in the way she’d seen two celebrities do on television the other night. Audie was growing up too fast. Still, the shift from “I hate it when you’re late” to “You’re the best” was a welcome change on a Friday night. Now all she needed was a small yes from one cooperative bison and her willing owner—that’s not too much to ask, is it, Lord?

* * *

Gunner was draining the last of his Saturday morning coffee when Gran swept into the kitchen with a peculiar expression on her face. She held her cane in one hand and the cordless phone in the other. “Gunner, you have a young lady asking for you on the phone.”

Gunner made a split-second mental survey of the young women likely to ring him up before 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday and came up empty. Oh, sure, back in the day the list might have been long, but he wasn’t that guy anymore. He certainly couldn’t think of any current females who would produce the amusement currently sparkling in Gran’s eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what was coming when he took the phone. “Buckton here.”

“Mr. Buckton?”

Gunner felt his eyes pop at the child’s voice. Granny stifled a giggle. When she’d said young lady, he sure wasn’t thinking this young. “Yes?”

The little voice grew serious. “My name is Audrey Calder, and my mom met you and Daisy on the road yesterday.”

So Brooke Calder was indeed a mom. This was getting more interesting by the minute. “I remember.”

“Well, it just so happens Maria and I want to do a report on bison for our native Texan animals project. Bison are much better than armadillos, don’t you think? I’m in the third grade.”

Gunner ran one hand down his face. What third grader started a sentence with it just so happens?

“Not a big fan of armadillos myself. A report on bison, huh?”

“Your grandma sounds really nice. I told her I wanted to interview Daisy, and she said I had to ask you. Can I talk to Daisy for my school report?” Then as if it had just occurred to her that no one conversed with a bison—no one except Billy, that was—she added, “Oh, and you, too. Mom told me Daisy’s about to be a mommy. Maybe you could tell me more about that.”

Well, well, Brooke Calder, seems you belong in Markham’s office after all, Gunner thought. What a flawless scheme. He’d promised himself that he’d never let anyone from DelTex so much as pass through the gate onto his ranch—but what kind of lout would say no to a third grader? Had Brooke called, he might have hung up on her. But Gran would have his hide if he was rude to Audrey and turned down a little girl’s science project.

Gunner was cornered, and he knew it. Brooke Calder had managed to box him in as neatly as Daisy had blocked the car on the road yesterday. “You’re right. Daisy’ll calve soon. Maybe real soon.” A shred of annoyance at being so manipulated kept him from saying yes right away. And he was ashamed of it immediately. Mean was no real way to act toward a little girl—even if her mama worked for the enemy.

“So you’re saying I should come right away? Like today? Are they cute?”

Today? How did this turn into an immediate issue? “Are who cute?”

“Baby bison. Mama said Daisy was huge and scary.” At this, Gunner could hear Brooke gasp and shush her daughter on the other end of the line. That made him feel a bit better—served that woman right after putting her daughter on the phone like this.

“Yeah,” Gunner stammered, remembering Audrey’s original question, “I suppose bison calves are cute. Cuter than their mamas, I guess.” He was currently calculating just how much like her bold-as-brass mama little Audrey Calder was. He shot a glance toward Gran, who was giving him a look that warned “Don’t you dare turn that sweet little girl down.”

“Okay, you can come,” he said, feeling the invitation settle to the bottom of his stomach like a boulder of imminent regret. “How about after lunch?”

The squeal that filled the phone made Gunner pull the handset away from his ear and cringe. It made Gran grin. “Thanks, Mister Buckton. I’ll have the best science report in the whole class ’cause of this!”

Did she have to sound absolutely adorable? Ten minutes with Gran and the tyke would probably have his grandmother talked into a full-scale ranch tour for the whole class. The Blue Thorn, overrun with little kids—the notion made him ill. Gunner pinched the bridge of his nose and began pacing the kitchen floor. “We’ll do our best to help you with your report, Audrey.”

“Call me Audie. Everyone does. I just said Audrey to be formal-like when making my request. After today, we’ll be friends.”

I highly doubt that, Gunner thought silently, scowling, shutting his eyes and reminding himself this was an innocent little girl who had no way of knowing the inconvenience she was about to cause. He was about to let someone from DelTex onto Blue Thorn land—Dad ought to be turning over in his grave right about now. “We’ll see you about 1:30? Check with your mama if that’s okay.” He hoped that would prevent Brooke from getting on the phone. He wasn’t sure he could resist a cutting remark—or six—if he spoke with her directly at the moment.

Confirmation acquired, Audie said an excruciatingly cheerful goodbye, insisting she’d “count the minutes” until 1:30. Gunner hung up the phone and tried to think of every possible reason he had to ride into town this afternoon.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gran narrowed her eyes as she took the handset from him.

“What?”

“I can see you conniving ways to get out of being here when they arrive. I can read you like you have a neon sign blinking over your head, son.” She put the phone down on the table. “If you’re the head of Blue Thorn, you host its guests.”

The head of Blue Thorn. Every day he felt what was asked of him as the head of Blue Thorn Ranch. The weight of proving himself beyond his rebellious past, the pressure to keep the ranch alive and thriving and in the family. It all kept him up nights. Gran had said she was on his side, had begged him to come home and take things over, but he could tell she was still hanging on to a bit of reserve—that she wasn’t totally convinced he could handle the job. He deserved that doubt.

Gunner retreated to the coffeepot. “Gran, do you have any idea who that was?”

“It was a sweet little girl doing a third-grade report on native Texan animals. Finally, a child who cares to do schoolwork beyond looking things up on a computer! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, trying to dodge her the way you were thinking.”

“The person who ought to be ashamed is that darling little girl’s mother. Brooke Calder works for Markham. At DelTex. I met her yesterday when Daisy got out and blocked her car back on the west road. DelTex is...”

Gran waved a hand in Gunner’s face. “I know very well what DelTex is. I hardly think you can put a stubborn bison down to corporate maneuvers. Or a third-grade girl, for that matter.”

“That third-grade girl’s mama put her up to this.”

“Her mama fixed it so that her teacher assigned a report on native species and talked her into choosing bison and opened the northwest gate so Daisy walked out onto the road in front of her car?” Gran crossed her arms over her chest and got that look on her face, that guilt-inducing “what’s gotten into you?” stare of which Adele Buckton was a master. “That’s what you think?”

“Could be.” It wasn’t as far-fetched as Gran made it sound. Those big development companies would probably try anything to get what they wanted. How many times had gifts arrived at the house or some oh-so-friendly DelTex exec tried to invite himself onto the ranch in the name of “opening a dialogue”? What was to stop them from finding someone who fit his ideal of an attractive woman and sending her out onto his west road? Brooke Calder would probably earn herself a raise for conniving her way onto Blue Thorn land. “You know those people from DelTex have tried all kinds of ways to get their boots on our acreage. This could just be one more. There’s an awful lot of money at stake here, Gran.”

Gran didn’t reply. Instead, she walked over to the cabinet and began to pull out cookie sheets. “What are you doing?” he balked, swallowing the urge to snatch the flat pans from her hands. This wasn’t a social call; this was likely a spy mission.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Gran said, eying him. “We have a child coming to the ranch. I’m baking some cookies.”

Gunner started to formulate a long list of reasons why that was a whopping bad idea, but the look from his grandmother silenced him. No matter what the land deed now said, Gran was still the final word on things at the Blue Thorn. If she could read him as well as she claimed, then Gran already knew what he thought of her plans to ply the Calders with cookies. His opinion on hospitality clearly didn’t matter, for she began to hum “There’ll Be Peace in the Valley” as she walked into the pantry for ingredients.

An earthquake. That ought to do it. Just send a small earthquake about 1:00 p.m., Lord, so I can call this whole circus to a halt. Gunner settled his hat on his head, muttering about pushy little girls and stubborn old women. Tornado, thunderstorm—I ain’t picky, Lord. Just get me out of this.


Chapter Three (#ulink_c33dffa2-2a38-595e-92b5-55635055027d)

“Why do they call it the Blue Thorn Ranch?” Audie piped up from the backseat as Brooke pulled her little car up to the gate that marked the ranch’s entrance. A tall framework of timbers with BT at the center stood over a metal gate that joined two stretches of sturdy metal fencing.

“Every member of the Buckton family has bright blue eyes,” Brooke answered. “But I don’t know about the thorn part—we’ll have to ask.” Brooke punched a button on the keypad mounted by the drive, announced herself and the gates slid open along the fence line. A wide-open landscape lay before them, mounds of grass stretching between clusters of trees. Ahead and to the left, the stone house and a series of outbuildings and barns formed the family compound.

“Look.” Brooke pointed to three bison enjoying the shade of a large tree.

“I see them!” Audie cheered. “Wow, they are big.”

Audie began scribbling in a small notebook, a tiny pink-hued reporter hungry for her story. Even if she had her reservations, Brooke couldn’t have denied her daughter this field trip for all the world. Besides, she reasoned with herself, if Buckton was really as grumpy as her earlier encounter led her to believe, at least the grandmother sounded friendly. Adele Buckton was something of a legend in these parts, one of the old-school ranching families with ties to the land that went back something like four generations. In its heyday, Blue Thorn Ranch had been twice its current size and home to some of the state’s prize cattle. Adele Buckton’s social and philanthropic standing still cast a shadow that was long and wide, even in the woman’s advancing years.

The ranch clearly had seen better days, with some of its former grandeur showing signs of wear and tear, but everything was solidly durable and clearly built to last. Some ranches were all about the flash—big showy things with massive houses to match. This place seemed... Authentic was the word that came to mind. Sturdy, sensible, determined to stick out the tough times—that was how the place felt as Brooke turned her car up the path toward the house. She looked forward to meeting Adele Buckton.

“I hope Daisy’s feeling friendly today,” Audie said, reaching into her pink gingham backpack. “I brought her some Goldfish just in case she’s hungry.” She produced a baggie of the snack crackers, holding it high so Brooke could see it in the rearview mirror.

Brooke pictured the reaction that would get from Buckton—and it wasn’t a charmed smile. “I’m not so sure bison go for Goldfish, honey. Maybe your first question to Mr. Buckton should be to ask what she likes to eat.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.” Audie scribbled a note to herself, tongue sticking out in eight-year-old journalistic integrity. “But it’s only three index cards and a diorama, so I don’t think I’ll need to know much.”

The main house was made of tan stone, wrapped with a huge front porch stretching on either side of a big front door. Dormer windows peeked from the second story, and a pair of ancient trees threw dappled shadows onto the front lawn. A picnic table was set with a blue gingham tablecloth and a tin pitcher of wildflowers. The place gave off all the welcome Gunner’s tone had not.

This visit was a risk, but Brooke couldn’t ever resist a chance to indulge Audie’s curiosity. Her daughter’s inquisitive nature and bold personality were so very much like her daddy’s that it never failed to raise a lump in Brooke’s throat. So what if it meant pressing a favor from a grump like Gunner Buckton?

He came out onto the house’s wide front porch, his steps the lazy saunter Brooke associated with all Texas cowboys. A big man, he seemed to tower over his grandmother as she came out beside him, leaning heavily on a blond wood cane with a silver handle.

Getting out of the car, Brooke took the walk up to the porch to take in the man she’d only briefly met yesterday. Gunner’s bright blue eyes were just like the older woman’s, now that she could clearly see his face rather than squinting up at him as she had yesterday. Mr. Markham had indeed told her about the family trait of turquoise eyes—all the Buckton children and grandchildren had them. The grandmother’s were warm, friendly and sparkling. Gunner’s were cool, clear and intense. The kind of eyes you couldn’t stop looking at even though they made you uneasy.

As they reached the porch, Brooke found herself meeting the man’s gaze with a friendly “let’s just all try to get along” expression.

“Afternoon,” he said in a dry tone that translated roughly to I know that you know that I don’t want to do this.

Audie, as she always did, plowed full speed ahead. “Hi there. I’m Audie Calder, and I’m here to interview Daisy.” She waltzed herself right up the pair of low stairs to Mrs. Buckton—smart choice, Brooke mused to herself—and extended a hand.

“And so you are.” Adele Buckton’s face broke into a broad smile. “I am so very pleased to meet you, young lady. I like a gal who goes at her research with gusto.”

Brooke walked up to Gunner and said quietly, “Thanks for this, but I do remember you saying Daisy could be irritable. Are you sure this will be okay?”

Gunner pushed his hat back on his head. “For any other animal I’d say maybe it would be a problem. We do have plenty of bison who don’t much take to folks. Only, I think Daisy will be okay. And whatever questions Daisy fails to answer—” his eyes took on just a sliver of a cordiality “—Gran and I can fill in the blanks.”

“Can I get my picture with her? For the report?” Audie asked.

“I think we can manage that,” Mrs. Buckton replied. “And when we’re done, you just happened to come on a day when I made cookies.”

Gunner raised one eyebrow in a suspicious glance at his grandmother that told Brooke just how much of a “coincidence” that really was.

“Thank you,” Brooke offered again, meaning it. “I know you’re busy and...”

“Nothin’ to it.” Gunner cut her off. “We’re all about community awareness out here.” The words sounded recited, as if he didn’t really mean them.

“Really?” she replied. “I didn’t take you as the kind to welcome visitors.”

“I’m not the kind to welcome DelTex, if that’s what you mean.”

Brooke stood as tall as she could. “I’m not here from DelTex, Mr. Buckton. I’m just a mom with a little girl who wants to do a school report.”

Gunner pushed out a breath. “Well, in that case, more people need to understand how important the bison are and value them. The bison—and all of us—need the land to thrive. That’s something people need to understand.”

“Especially third graders,” Audie offered.

“And maybe a few big companies I could name,” Gunner added in low tones.

Brooke squared her shoulders, trying not to feel small against the man’s broad stance. Having met the grandmother, she noted his features took on an odd duality—so like Mrs. Buckton’s and yet with such a different attitude. “How about,” she said as quietly as she could, “we agree to leave the politics out of this and just let a little girl write a report?”

He shot her a dubious look, crossing his lean arms over his broad chest as Mrs. Buckton took Audie’s hand and they stepped down off the porch to walk toward a series of outbuildings. “Is that even possible?” he said the moment the pair was out of earshot.

“Do you really think I set this up as some kind of stunt for work? That I’d use my own daughter to weasel my way onto your land?”

His resulting expression told her that was exactly what Gunner Buckton thought. “You work for DelTex.”

“Look, your family may have a file inches thick and a long, thorny—” she used the word on purpose “—history with my boss, but I assure you, I haven’t studied it. That’s not even my department, and at this moment it’s definitely not my concern. This is about Mrs. Cleydon’s third-grade class and nothing else. If you want to blame someone for setting the whole thing in motion, blame Daisy.”

“Daisy did what bison do. You’re the one who sicced your daughter on my grandma.”

Brooke put her hand to her forehead. “She said she needed to learn about buffalo and I’d run into a buffalo...bison,” she corrected when his eyes narrowed, “just hours earlier. Any parent would have done the same thing.”

“Would any parent have let her daughter do the asking so that I’d look like a heel if I said no?”

He had her there. Brooke knew letting Audie make the call worked in her favor. But the truth was Audie was fearless and wanted to make the call. Brooke hadn’t talked Audie into anything, but she was guilty of knowing that putting Audie on the phone increased her chances of success. Really, was that so awful if it made today’s visit possible?

An argument wouldn’t help Audie get her interview, so Brooke squelched her frustration at Gunner and let out a long, slow exhale. “Are you going to let Audie meet Daisy? Because if you’re not, then I think it’s best I go get her now. But,” she added with an effort to keep the edge out of her voice, “I’d really appreciate if you would.”

Gunner exhaled himself, although it sounded far too much like a hiss through his teeth. “No, I’ll do it. I’d never hear the end of it from Gran if I didn’t.” He turned to look at her. “I have your word this isn’t a setup?”

It was common knowledge that there was no love lost between the Bucktons and Mr. Markham, but it was a little chilling to see how deep the enmity ran. Brooke wasn’t fool enough to miss that her boss had his share of critics—every successful man did—but she couldn’t shake the way this man’s glare settled in the pit of her stomach. “I promise you this is just what it seems—a little girl doing a project for school. One she’s really excited about.”

Brooke lowered her voice and swallowed her pride. “Since my husband died, things have been a bit on the tight side, and I don’t get to pull off many amazing-mom moments. I’d be grateful if we could make this one stick.”

A squeal, followed by peals of little-girl-and-old-lady laughter, came from the barn. “Okay,” Gunner said. He gave her a look just a few notches softer than his previous glare. “For science and all.”

“For science,” she echoed as they stepped off the porch in unison. And not-so-amazing single moms everywhere, she added silently.

* * *

Audie looked shocked once they turned the corner to the small fenced-in yard where Daisy was currently being held to keep her wandering tendencies in check. “Mr. Buckton, she’s peeling!”

Gunner had to laugh at that. Daisy’s coat was sloughing off in big batches, but he’d never thought of it as peeling before. “Well, actually, she’s just losing her winter coat. It’s called molting.”

“Does it hurt?”

“I suppose it itches. She and the other bison rub up against things to help the old hair come off.”

Audie cocked her head to one side, braids bobbing. “Doesn’t she need her hair?”

“Yes, but not that hair. It’s too thick for spring.” Okay, so maybe he was enjoying this a tiny bit. Still, he wasn’t going to give Brooke Calder the satisfaction of letting it show. He pointed to Daisy as she stood on the far side of the pen. “Daisy has lots of different kinds of hair on her body, which she uses in lots of different ways.” Audie stood on the fence rails, her tiny shoulders coming up to Gunner’s chest as he pointed out parts of the animal. “The big long eyelashes keep the dust out of her eyes so she can see. And even though she’s molting out of her winter layer now, she still has her undercoat—that’s the thick fuzzy part underneath that keeps her cool in the summer and warm in the winter.”

Audie turned to look at Gunner, wobbling enough on the fence to make Brooke send a protective arm out around her daughter. As she stood on Audie’s other side, Gunner noticed that Brooke wasn’t much taller than her boosted-up daughter. She might barely meet his shoulder if she stood on tiptoe. Her hair was a creamy honey-blond—much lighter than the dark brown of her daughter’s braids, but they looked a lot alike. Except for the eyes—the eyes were totally different. Audie had big brown eyes, whereas Brooke’s were a compelling hazel-green. If DelTex had handpicked her to appeal to him, they’d done their homework. She wasn’t one of those fussy, bottle-blonde women many men liked; he preferred her down-home, sensible kind of cute. Had he met her under other circumstances, if she worked anywhere but where she worked, he would definitely have taken an interest. As it was, cute enemies were still enemies. And kids? Not really his thing.

“Do you ever have to cut her hair to get it out of her way?” Audie’s wide eyes brought his attention back to the lesson at hand.

“No. Even when she isn’t molting, she rubs up against trees and even some special brushes we set out. So it’s more like she combs it out herself. She needs her coat—we wouldn’t want to take it away from her. But the parts she’s done with can be used in plenty of different ways. The long beard hairs under her chin? Fishermen tell me they make the best flies for fishing. And some people make yarn from the hair she sheds.” He was glad Audie kept asking about the fur. It was a safer topic than...

“Mackenzie’s Diner by our house sells bison burgers.” Audie wrinkled up her nose in thought as she ventured onto the one topic Gunner had hoped to avoid.

He felt his stomach drop a few inches and caught Brooke’s panicked eyes over her daughter’s head. He shot a look to Gran, who didn’t seem at all inclined to take this one for him. This was why he didn’t do field trips. There was no safe way to explain slaughter—even carefully humane slaughter—to someone in pigtails with a pink gingham backpack. He ran a hand over his chin, scrambling for an answer. “Yes, people eat bison meat.” He dearly hoped the simple truth would settle the matter, but he highly doubted Brooke Calder’s superinquisitive daughter would let it go at that.

She didn’t. “Do you?”

It was dumb to think the subject wouldn’t come up—most people in this small town of Martins Gap knew Blue Thorn for the quality of its meat. If he did his job right, all of Austin would know soon, as well. There seemed no point in lying. “I do. It’s very tasty.”

“And it’s all kind of good for you, too.” Now Gran piped up. Thanks for all the help here, Gran. “Have you ever tasted it?”

“No. But I’ve seen chickens and I eat them. Seen cows and eaten them, too. I had beef tacos last night. Every Friday’s Tacos for Two night.”

Brooke went pink, and Gunner tried unsuccessfully to swallow his laugh. “No foolin’?” Then, because it felt safe to do so, he added, “We’re not fixing to eat Daisy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“We’re careful to take care of the mamas and their babies here,” Gran added.

That seemed to settle the subject to Audie’s satisfaction. “That’s good,” the little girl said, and Gunner felt the same relief he could see in Brooke’s eyes.

“Bison have families, just like people,” Gran went on. “We keep family groups together because it makes the bison happy.”

“Where’s your list of questions for Daisy?” Brooke asked, clearly eager to change the subject.

“Right here.” Audie popped down off the fence and zipped open her backpack to pull out a purple glitter notebook. Really, it was hard to get more “little girl” than a purple glitter notebook—except for the pink polka-dot pencil that emerged from the backpack immediately behind the notebook. Gunner suppressed a cringe worthy of a third-grade boy’s distaste for “cooties.”

“Can I talk to her? Up close?”

More parental land mines. Brooke seemed to be remembering that Daisy was as large as her car, her hand going reflexively to Audie’s shoulder. There wasn’t much to worry about, provided Audie listened to directions, but even Gunner’s limited experience with youngsters told him “listening to directions” didn’t top the list of their skill sets. He sent Brooke a “let me handle this” glance over Audie’s head just before squatting down in front of the girl. “Well, now, that depends on you.” He made his voice friendly but serious. “Daisy’s a very big animal. And she’s easily upset, being so close to her time and all. She’s not like a dog or a cat or even a horse who’s really used to folks being around. Can you understand that?”

Audie nodded just as seriously. “Oh, I can. Yessir.” Brooke looked slightly less alarmed, and Gran smiled.

“She may not be in much of a mood to chat, so I’ve asked my friend Billy to come along. Daisy does most of her talking to Billy.” He felt ridiculous saying that, all the more because it was true as far as he knew. “He can help with the answers you can’t get from Daisy or me or Gran.”

This didn’t seem to faze Audie at all. “Three people and a bison. This’ll be the best report ever.”

Gunner wasn’t sure how true that was, but at least this “interview” wasn’t feeling like the intolerable chore he’d imagined it to be this morning. “We’ll do our best.” He straightened back up as he saw Billy bringing Daisy closer. No matter what, Gunner would keep a sturdy fence between the thousand-pound beast and the bitty Calder women. As a bottle-raised orphan whose parents had been humans rather than bison, Daisy was by far one of the friendliest bison the Blue Thorn had ever seen—but animals were still animals.

Coming up to the fence, Daisy gave an enormous snort, swiveling her huge head around to consider her small pink visitor. “Billy Flatrock, Daisy,” Gunner began the introduction even though it felt silly, “this here’s Audie.” He caught Brooke’s eye for a fraction of a second. “Daisy already met Mrs. Calder yesterday.”

“Hi, Daisy!” Audie said brightly, much less intimidated by the wall of brown fur in front of her than her mother had been the day before. As a matter of fact, Brooke still looked a bit wary. “Mom,” Audie whispered loudly, elbowing her mother, “say hi.”

Brooke straightened up. “Hello, Mr. Flatrock. Hello, Daisy. Congratulations to Daisy on being a mama soon.”

“Yep. That’s really exciting.” Audie poised her thick pink pencil over her notebook like a candy-coated junior reporter. “Tell me, Daisy, do you want a boy or a girl baby bison?”

To Gunner’s amazement, Daisy actually looked as if she was considering the question before she gave a series of low, rolling grunts. Gunner felt as though he was losing control of the situation with every passing minute.

Audie looked right at Billy and in all seriousness asked, “What’d she say?”

Billy took the whole thing right in stride. “Daisy had a girl bison last year, so she wants a boy this time.” When Gunner raised an “aren’t you taking this a bit far?” eyebrow, Billy added, “I think.”

All the adults waited while Audie carefully wrote “baby boy” on her notepad. The girl then proceeded to work her way through a set of ten questions—some crazy, others downright thoughtful for someone so young. From Gran’s expression, she appeared to be growing fonder of Brooke and Audie every second. When Audie complimented Daisy on the soft new coat coming out from under the old one and her “be-yu-ti-ful” eyes, Gunner felt the cuteness factor tip over his toleration level. Suddenly, I’m a bison’s publicist. He could almost hear his father’s amused laughter echoing out across the ranch. No telling what would happen if any of the other ranch owners got even a whiff of this.

Still, the kid was so excited, he couldn’t be entirely annoyed, even if the whole thing took twice as long as he’d planned. Brooke Calder looked at him as if he was some kind of hero, instead of just being a busy rancher who’d just gotten lassoed into the strangest social call of the year.

When Audie finally got the “reply” to her final question, Gran pronounced it time for cookies and lemonade on the lawn. He’d clean forgotten about Gran’s social plans, and watched helplessly as another work hour of his afternoon evaporated before his eyes. He envied Billy as the man walked free and clear into the barn. The foreman offered him a smug smile, glad to be escaping the ladies’ tea party Gunner now was forced to endure.

He gave Daisy a long last look as he stepped onto the porch behind the chattering females, and even the bison seemed to enjoy his predicament. “See what I started?” the big brown eyes seemed to say.

Thanks for that, Gunner thought as he tucked his long legs under the picnic table and reached for a cookie.


Chapter Four (#ulink_0ab865c9-3f1a-5ec1-8d43-82f54221dfcc)

Jace Markham leaned back in his chair Monday morning, the Austin sunshine pouring through the many windows of his corner office at DelTex’s corporate headquarters. He smiled. “Brooke Calder, I underestimated you.”

Brooke looked up from her agenda notes. “How’s that?”

“I’ve been trying to work my way into Adele Buckton’s good graces for years now, and you did it in four months.”

Brooke felt a little band of annoyance stretch under her stomach. DelTex offices weren’t exactly small, and Austin was a big city—how had word of her visit to Blue Thorn traveled so fast? “It wasn’t a professional visit, Mr. Markham.”

Mr. Markham chuckled as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Oh, no, I heard the bit about the book report. Brilliant.”

“Science project. And it really wasn’t anything more than that. I ran into one of their bison on my way back from picking up files at the Ramble Acres site.”

Mr. Markham’s eyes popped. “You ran over one of their herd?”

“No.” Brooke winced at the poor choice of words. “I met Daisy as she blocked my way across the road. Gunner Buckton came by and helped get the bison out of the road so I could get home.”

The big man chuckled. “Well, that’s a bit easier to understand. I couldn’t quite see how you turned roadkill into a social call.” He leaned forward. “I take it you received a chilly reception?”

“At first. And most definitely from Gunner. Gunner Junior, that is. He iced over the minute he worked out who I was. Then Audie decided to do her native Texan animals report on bison, and I didn’t see how I could let an opportunity like that get away.”

Mr. Markham raised an eyebrow. Brooke meant an opportunity for hands-on learning for her daughter, but clearly her boss had other interpretations.

“I had Audie call and ask to see the bison because I was sure he’d refuse me,” she continued. “Only, Audie reached Adele first, and Mrs. Buckton warmed to the idea of a visit right away—maybe because she didn’t yet know where I worked.” Brooke shifted her weight. “They don’t think very highly of DelTex. They think Ramble Acres will eventually spread to take their land.”

The vice president took off his reading glasses. “Oh, that’s no news to me. These ranchers are passionate about their land. Most times that’s a good thing. Only, sometimes the public good clashes with that stubbornness, and forward-thinking developers like ourselves have to make unpopular proposals.”

“I know.” It was one of the reasons Brooke had a job—sometimes the public needed education, or awareness, or just flat-out convincing that a development was good for everyone. Part of what she did at DelTex was to help local folks see past the temporary inconveniences of development and embrace the long-term advantages. Or in cases like Ramble Acres, see why some private land was going to be needed to make way for the infrastructure to support a large-scale project.

“And that’s why we pull in the local leaders to get those proposals green-lighted. You know the song—everybody wants a highway, so long as it doesn’t cross the back forty that’s been in their family for three generations.”

Brooke was indeed familiar with the conflict. She’d spent the past four months fine-tuning presentations for DelTex execs and the involved local politicians. Infrastructure almost always needed land, and that was a surefire recipe for public conflict. “It did end well, if that’s what you’re asking. Audie had a wonderful time, and Adele is just like I imagined her.”

“Adele Buckton is a grand, gracious lady. She and Gunner Senior became fixtures in this part of Texas back when I was younger than you.” Mr. Markham folded his hands on his dark marble desktop. “I’ve always thought Adele would see reason much faster than Gunner Junior. That boy has his daddy’s stubborn streak, that’s for sure.”

Brooke thought of the tall, commanding rancher she’d spent time with and found that boy nowhere near a fitting term. “I know the basics of the project, Mr. Markham, but what exactly is it you want from the Bucktons?”

Mr. Markham stood up and motioned for Brooke to join him in front of the large map that took up most of one office wall. He ran a finger down the highway Brooke had traveled on Friday afternoon, the one where she’d met Daisy. “This is Buckton’s place.” He tapped the finger on the east side of the highway. “Over here is Paul Larkey’s ranch,” he continued, shifting his finger to the west side. “And here is Ramble Acres.” He pointed to the site of Brooke’s meeting, a large, upscale housing venture getting ready to go up northeast of both ranches. It was a multimillion-dollar development, sure to be the jewel in the DelTex crown once completed. Mr. Markham had been working on the project—which hadn’t even broken ground yet—for the better part of four years. Brooke’s presentation had dozens of bullet points about its potential positive impact on property tax revenues, schools and local commerce. In fact, the push to break ground on Ramble Acres was the main reason she’d been hired.

Mr. Markham ran his fingers down a thin blue ribbon running across all three properties. “Here is what all the fuss is about. We need access to this water system as part of the Ramble Acres drainage plan—storm-water runoff, that sort of thing. Nothing chemical or even remotely detrimental to the land, just the ability to utilize the waterway. But it’ll swell that creek with all that water once everything’s up and running, so we need Buckton to sell us the creek and the land around it.”

“And he won’t?” The answer to that question was pretty clear.

“Not yet. He’s not budging, even though he’s got two other water sources on his ranch, and I know he could use the money. His neighbor Larkey has already said he’d sell. Only, because Larkey is downstream of Buckton, his yes doesn’t do us any of good without Buckton’s land.”

“Sounds like a standoff.” She could easily see that happening, given the personalities involved.

Mr. Marhkam pushed out a breath. “When Gunner Senior died, I thought maybe we could get through to Adele. She’s the kind of woman who can grasp the bigger picture, and quite honestly, I wasn’t even sure she’d keep the ranch. It would have been too much for her to run alone, and all her grandkids had scattered.”

Now the pieces were fitting together. “And then Gunner Junior showed up?”

Mr. Markham picked his finger up off the map to point it at Brooke. “He’s convinced I’m out to steal his land—all of it, not just the sliver we need—and there’s been no convincing him otherwise.” The businessman looked pointedly at Brooke. “Until now, maybe. I take the fact that he let you onto the ranch as a good sign. I hope you realize you are in a unique position to do a lot of good here.”

He wasn’t wrong in his thinking. Brooke knew that many conflicts of this nature were best solved by a series of face-to-face meetings. Arranging such meetings was a large part of what she did best for DelTex. Ideas and corporations never solved problems as well as people sitting down and talking to each other. Only such sit-downs were often hard to accomplish when one—or both—of the parties dug in their heels, the way the Bucktons had done.

“I’d like to help, sir, but have you met that man?” She shrugged, remembering Gunner’s glaring eyes. “I doubt I can convince him of anything.”

“Oh, don’t doubt yourself. You’ve capitalized on a bit of good fortune and done what I haven’t been able to do—gotten a conversation started. That’s always the first step. I know you know how these things work—relationships first, agreements later.” He put a hand on her shoulder, walking them back to his desk. “Do you think you can take the open door you managed to get and crack it open a tiny bit farther? Do whatever you think will keep the lines of communication open—with either Gunner or Adele. Use whatever budget or resources you need, and fend some of the grunt work off to other staffers if you need to free up your time. Help us reach this goal, Brooke, and you’ll have proven yourself an invaluable asset to DelTex.”

Up until this morning, Brooke hadn’t felt very important at DelTex—just another junior staff member trying to make a name for herself. Now Jace Markham was looking at her as if she had the makings of a key player. His regard kindled a glow of satisfaction Brooke hadn’t felt in a long time.

In the two years since Jim’s death, Brooke had always felt as though she was just getting by, just eking out an existence. Maybe this year would be the time she’d finally start going somewhere, start setting a real career in motion, become the parent and provider that Audie needed her to be. Was it so far-fetched a notion that God sent Daisy into the road that day to launch a chain of events that might make a real difference in her life? In Audie’s? In the whole county by way of Ramble Acres? “Absolutely, boss,” she said, picking up her folders. “I’m ready to take on this challenge and show you what I’ve got.”

* * *

“Gunner, honey, come in here and look at this!”

Gunner pushed his chair away from his desk—piled high this Wednesday morning with paperwork—and headed into the kitchen. There he found Gran at the computer he’d hooked up for her earlier this year. “Did you crash the hard drive again, Gran?”

Gran pulled off her reading glasses to frown at Gunner. “I did no such thing. I’m reading my email.”

Gran had asked for the computer so she could keep up with Gunner’s three younger siblings. Most days it was a good thing that Gran regularly corresponded with Gunner’s sisters, Ellie and Tess, and Tess’s twin brother, Luke. Other days, it just sent new reasons for everyone to stick their nose in his business, thanks to Gran’s incessant “updates.” I suppose I ought to be glad she hasn’t learned to text on a smartphone yet, Gunner told himself as he peered at the computer screen.

“What is that?”

Gran pshawed at him and swatted his shoulder. “It’s a drawing of Daisy. Anyone could see that.”

Gunner squinted at the brown blob and noticed it had horns and feet. And a wide cartoon smile with pink hearts around its head. “Never seen a smile like that on our Daisy.”

“You’d think you were never eight the way you talk. I changed your diapers, cowboy. Don’t you ever forget it.” Gran touched the screen. “This is a thank-you picture from Audie.”

Brooke Calder now had their email addresses? That woman was even slicker than he’d thought.

“I gave Audie my email address when she was here so she could get in touch if she had more questions. I like that girl’s gumption. She had her mother send over this picture this afternoon.” She pointed to the little girl in the drawing, who had a cartoon-style dialogue balloon over her head, reading “Thank You, Blue Thorn!” in scrawling third-grade letters. With the period on the exclamation mark made from a blue heart bearing a smiley face. “At least some young people today still remember their manners. And look, she even drew you.”

Gran scrolled the screen and pointed to a tall figure wearing a cowboy hat—and a frown. The figure representing Gran was all smiles, holding a cane in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. “Mom” and “Me” looked happy, too, with Brooke’s curls depicted as a halo of squiggly yellow lines.

“She’s got you pegged, I’ll give her that.” Gran chuckled.

“I was nice to her,” Gunner protested. “I didn’t frown...did I?”

Gran looked up at him. “You didn’t smile, either. You mostly looked as if the whole thing hurt like a toothache.” She put a hand on Gunner’s shoulder. “You went from wild child to serious man. I think you ought to settle yourself somewhere in between, don’t you?”

“This serious man has serious work to do. I can’t go around playing host to field trips.”

“Oh, then you’re in trouble now.” Gran pursed her lips and then scrolled up to the email that topped the drawing. “Audie’s teacher is asking if the class can come visit.”

The email included a message thanking Gunner, Gran and Billy for their hospitality and the contact information for Audie’s teacher, saying a Mrs. Cleydon was very interested in bringing the class out for a visit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose where a headache was just now starting. “I knew this would happen.”

Gran got that look in her eyes. The relentless one Gunner knew all too well. “You are going to say yes. I’m going to write her back right now and tell her we’d be delighted to host the class for an afternoon.”

Gunner crossed his arms over his chest. “Didn’t you say if I’m head of Blue Thorn I have to do the inviting?”

“Yes. The invitation should absolutely come from you.” Gran put her fingers on the keyboard. “Show me how to forward the email and you can reply.”

“I don’t want to be exchanging emails with Brooke Calder.”

“Really, though, wouldn’t you be exchanging emails with Audie and her teacher?”

“Through Brooke. I tell you, Gran, that woman is up to no good.”

She pointed to the frowning Gunner in Audie’s drawing. “That’s just your grumpy side talking. She seemed very nice to me. Sweet, even. I give a lot of credit to a young widow like her making her way in the world.”

Gran’s talent for getting everyone’s life story out of them in twenty minutes or less could be a real annoyance. “Gran...”

“You should help her. You should let those children come see how the ranch works. I’ve heard you go on and on about conservation and preservation. Well, here’s a chance to share those ideas with the next generation. Show these young’uns why they need to care about bison and land and ranches. Show them firsthand, not on that silly Yube-Tube.”

“YouTube, Gran. And as for conservation and preservation, have you forgotten Brooke works for DelTex? The Ramble Acres company that wants to shave off the back of our property so they can build a shopping mall?”

“Since when can’t you be nice to people you disagree with? It’s what’s wrong with the world, I tell you. That woman has to make a living somewhere—it’s not her fault, nor is it Audie’s, that her employer happens to be DelTex.”

His grandmother’s face took on the legendary Buckton stubbornness, a narrow-eyed I will not back down set of features Gunner knew spelled his surrender.

“You’d better bake a lot of cookies.”

She smiled. “Actually, I was thinking brownies. And ice cream. A regular ice-cream social out on the lawn.”

Two dozen sticky, squirmy, sugared-up third graders tearing up his front lawn. The thought was enough to make him want to move to the city and take up accounting. Blue Thorn was taking a lot more than he was prepared to give these days.

As if she’d heard his thoughts, Gran’s hand came up to cover his. “Your father would be proud of what you’ve done. Of what you’re doing.”

That struck a raw nerve. Gunner and his father hadn’t seen eye to eye on anything in the years before his death. Not that Gunner had been around much to test that. He’d put Blue Thorn in his rearview mirror shortly after college, sick of Dad looking down his nose at the wild life Gunner loved. Dad’s expectations had smothered Gunner, and even Gran’s compassionate spirit hadn’t been enough to keep him on the ranch. With his mom gone when he was seventeen, Gunner saw no point in staying where he wasn’t understood. One by one his siblings had followed suit, heading off the ranch and out from underneath Gunner Senior’s judgmental glare until the old man had died years later practically alone and nearly bankrupt.

Gran had written Gunner then, pleading for him to return to the ranch and save Blue Thorn. He’d come for Gran. Gunner had come to prove Dad wrong about the kind of man he was, and to overhaul Blue Thorn with his own stamp. He wasn’t sure Dad would ever be proud of what he was doing here, but the sentiment raised an unwanted lump in Gunner’s throat anyway.

“Click on that green arrow there,” he said, not looking her in the eye. “That’s how you forward an email. I’ll invite them to come out, and you can stuff them full of whatever goodies you want.”

He felt, rather than saw, her smile. “You’ll have such fun, you wait and see.”

There’s where you’re wrong, he thought to himself, regretting the whole thing already.


Chapter Five (#ulink_683e7da3-b993-57bf-905e-d815f46f8f30)

Brooke scanned the rolling pastures of Blue Thorn Ranch as she drove down the road leading to Ramble Acres for another meeting Thursday. She’d never paid much attention to the landscape before in her frequent trips out to the development. Now she found herself watching the land roll by, looking for signs of the bison herd.

And, if she was honest with herself, she was watching for Gunner Buckton. After his email the other day, she had nearly picked up the phone twice to talk to him. She knew better than to judge someone by their emails, but even someone who wasn’t a specialist in communications could see the man was a mix of annoyed, cornered and reluctant. But he was at least trying to be cordial—even though it seemed to physically pain him. At least it was a start. Perhaps she could really be the key to paving a useful resolution to the tensions between the Bucktons and DelTex. If she could foster some understanding that would make Gunner feel less under attack, as well as be a face of compassion for DelTex, then everyone would win. Including her—for Mr. Markham had gone out of his way to say that a victory here would boost her career.

They were crafting a relationship with the Bucktons, she and Audie—that much wasn’t manufactured. Brooke genuinely liked the Bucktons, especially Adele. She enjoyed Audie’s enthusiasm, how she’d come up with the idea for a thank-you drawing and how Audie talked to anyone who would listen about “Daisy the mama bison and how my mom got me to meet her.”

The honest truth was that she owed Gunner Buckton a personal thank-you, and it was a plus for everyone if that thank-you was delivered face-to-face.

On that impulse, Brooke pulled into the ranch gate and pressed the intercom button. She wasn’t meeting anyone at the Ramble Acres site—just taking photographs and picking up some preliminary floorpans—so this was an easy detour. Besides, hadn’t Mr. Markham told her to use any time and resources she needed to foster the relationship? A kindly thank-you would be a wise investment of half an hour, if that.

To Brooke’s surprise, Adele’s voice came over the intercom.

“It’s Brooke Calder, Mrs. Buckton. Audie’s mom from the other day?”

“Of course I know who you are, honey. Are you at the gate?”

“I wanted to come say thanks in person, if that’s okay.” Was this an imposition? Pushy? It wasn’t like Brooke to second-guess herself in situations like this.

Her fears proved unfounded. “How nice of you” came Mrs. Buckton’s pleased reply. “I’d love to have a visit. Do you remember how to come up to the main house?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, then. I’ll buzz you in. Come on up.”

Brooke felt as if she ought to ask, “Is Gunner home?”

“He’s out in the pens this morning helping with vaccines. And don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.”

Brooke indulged in a chuckle as the long metal gate rolled on its gears and drove her car down the curving lane. Today the pastures were mostly empty, but far off to her left, Brooke could see groups of bison moving about. Under a clear blue sky and among the bright green spring grass, the animals looked right out of a Western landscape painting. They drew her eye in a way cattle herds had never done—it must have been the size of them, the slow way they moved. Majestic seemed a grandiose word, but it was the one that came to mind. At least they looked that way from a distance. Stubborn had been her first impression of Daisy, and for good reason.

She drove past the barns and pens, wondering if Gunner was looking up to mutter something inhospitable as he saw her little car drive by. “I’m being nice, I’m capitalizing on a prime opportunity and I’m keeping the lines of communication open,” she reminded herself as she parked on the gravel circle in front of the house’s wide porch.

Adele pushed open the front door and gave a big wave. She seemed genuinely happy to see Brooke. Maybe Mrs. Buckton didn’t get many visitors anymore and was glad for the company. It would be hard for such a people person as Adele Buckton to be isolated all the way out here. Brooke’s public-relations side even mused that Adele might be a perfect future resident for Ramble Acres, where she’d have friends and shopping and things to do right outside her door but would still be close to the ranch.

“I’m tickled you decided to stop by!” Adele called out as she worked her way down the stairs. “I was so pleased with Audie’s drawing, I had Gunner show me how to print it out, and I put it on my refrigerator.”

“That’s so sweet,” Brooke said as she got out of the car. “Audie will love to hear that. She draws all the time.”

“Well, all my grandchildren are a bit big to be playing with crayons, but I’m looking forward to the day when my great-grandchildren fill my fridge with drawings.” The old woman’s eyes sparkled. “Got none of those yet, but I’m a patient gal.” She poked a bony elbow into Brooke’s side with a wink. “I do hope some of my four grandchildren give me some great-grandbabies before the Good Lord calls me home.”

“Gunner has three siblings?”

“A brother and two sisters. They’re scattered all over the country right now. Gunner was the first to come on home, but I pray the others will follow in their own time.”

Brooke found she liked Adele Buckton more and more. Her own mom was kind, and she’d been incredibly supportive in the first months after Jim’s death, but she lacked the vibrancy Adele had. Mom always seemed tired and annoyed with the world, whereas Adele looked as if she couldn’t wait to get out into it.

“You were so kind to say yes to Mrs. Cleydon’s field-trip request. I was in the area, and I felt I ought to come by and say an extra thanks in person.”

“Oh, well, then you ought to be thanking Gunner. He’s the one who extended the invitation.”

“Somehow—” Brooke leaned in “—I have a feeling he was put up to it.”

Adele pulled back in mock surprise. “My, but you are as sharp as you look.” She squeezed Brooke’s hand. “I like to think an old gal like me still has some weight to throw around now and then.”

Brooke could only laugh. “Well, I’m glad you did. Audie talks about nothing else.”

Adele headed toward the door. “Oh, good. Come on in. I’ve got some iced tea in the fridge.”

They ended up sitting on the porch for a spell—with Brooke’s affection for the delightful matriarch growing every minute—before the tall figure of Gunner came out from beside the barn and stopped at the sight of the baby-blue hatchback. Brooke watched his whole posture change, as if his spine hardened right before her eyes. His steps slowed as he turned toward the house, and Brooke felt his eyes burn suspicious holes in her chest, even from a distance. He did not welcome her presence, and it showed all over Gunner’s face.

Adele either didn’t see—which Brooke highly doubted—or chose to ignore her grandson’s annoyance, instead waving as if she had a grand surprise for Gunner. “Look who’s here!” she called out.

“I can see.” Gunner’s voice was low and tight. “Field trip’s not for another week, Ms. Calder. What brings you out our way again?”

“I had an appointment,” Brooke replied, pressing on even when Gunner’s eyes broadcast I’m sure you did, “and I wanted to say thanks to both of you. In person. For our visit and for welcoming the class. I know it’s an imposition.”

It sure is, Gunner’s tight jaw said despite his easy, “It ain’t much trouble.”

“It ain’t any trouble at all,” Adele expanded. “Why, I have to say I love the idea of children on the ranch. We should do more of that kind of thing. Oh, that reminds me.” Adele pushed herself up off the porch chair and grabbed her cane. “I have something for that darling Audie of yours. Gunner, sit yourself down and have the rest of my tea while you occupy our guest. I need to go find something in the parlor.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/allie-pleiter/the-texas-rancher-s-return/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.