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“She’s hurting for money,” Shelby reminded somberly. “Most ranchers are, even us. The drought is killing us. But Maddie only has a few head of cattle and she can’t buy feed for them if her corn crop dies. She’ll have to sell at a loss. Her breeding program is already losing money.” She shook her head. “Her father was a fine rancher. He taught your father things about breeding bulls. But Maddie just doesn’t have the experience. She jumped in at the deep end when her father died, but it was by necessity, not choice. I’m sure she’d much rather be drawing pictures than trying to produce calves.”
“Drawing.” He said it with contempt.
She stared at him. “Cort, haven’t you ever noticed that?” She indicated a beautiful rendering in pastels of a fairy in a patch of daisies in an exquisite frame on the wall.
He glanced at it. “Not bad. Didn’t you get that at an art show last year?”
“I got it from Maddie last year. She drew it.”
He frowned. He actually got up and went to look at the piece. “She drew that?” he asked.
“Yes. She was selling two pastel drawings at the art show. This was one of them. She sculpts, too—beautiful little fairies—but she doesn’t like to show those to people. I told her she should draw professionally, perhaps in graphic design or even illustration. She laughed. She doesn’t think she’s good enough.” She sighed. “Maddie is insecure. She has one of the poorest self-images of anyone I know.”
Cort knew that. His lips made a thin line. He felt even worse after what he’d said to her. “I should probably call and apologize,” he murmured.
“That’s not a bad idea, son,” she agreed.
“And then I should drive over there, hide in the grass and shoot that damned red-feathered son of a…!”
“Cort!”
He let out a harsh breath. “Okay. I’ll call her.”
“Roosters don’t live that long,” she called after him. “He’ll die of old age before too much longer.”
“With my luck, he’ll hit fifteen and keep going. Animals that nasty never die!” he called back.
He wanted to apologize to Maddie. But when he turned on his cell phone, he realized that he didn’t even know her phone number. He tried to look it up on the internet, but couldn’t find a listing.
He went back downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen.
“Do you know the Lanes’ phone number?” he asked.
She blinked. “Well, no. I don’t think I’ve ever tried to call them, not since Pierce Lane died last year, anyway.”
“No number listed, anywhere,” he said.
“You might drive by there later in the week,” she suggested gently. “It’s not that far.”
He hesitated. “She’d lock the doors and hide inside when I drove up,” he predicted.
His mother didn’t know what to say. He was probably right.
“I need to get away,” he said after a minute. “I’m wired like a piano. I need to get away from the rooster and Odalie and…everything.”
“Why don’t you go to Wyoming and visit your sister?” she suggested.
He sighed. “She’s not expecting me until Thursday.”
She laughed. “She won’t care. Go early. It would do both of you good.”
“It might at that.”
“It won’t take you long to fly up there,” she added. “You can use the corporate jet. I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind. He misses Morie. So do I.”
“Yeah, I miss her, too,” he said. He hugged his mother. “I’ll go pack a bag. If that rooster shows up looking for me, put him on a plane to France, would you? I hear they love chicken over there. Get him a business-class ticket. If someone can ship a lobster from Maine,” he added with a laugh, referring to a joke that had gone the rounds years before, “I can ship a chicken to France.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” she promised.
His mother was right, Cort thought that evening. He loved being with his sister. He and Morie were a lot alike, from their hot tempers to their very Puritan attitudes. They’d always been friends. When she was just five, she’d followed her big brother around everywhere, to the amusement of his friends. Cort was tolerant and he adored her. He never minded the kidding.
“I’m sorry about your rooster problems,” Morie told him with a gentle laugh. “Believe me, we can understand. My poor sister-in-law has fits with ours.”
“I like Bodie,” he said, smiling. “Cane sure seems different these days.”
“He is. He’s back in therapy, he’s stopped smashing bars and he seems to have settled down for good. Bodie’s wonderful for him. She and Cane have had some problems, but they’re mostly solved now,” she said. She smiled secretly. “Actually, Bodie and I are going to have a lot more in common for the next few months.”
Cort was quick. He glanced at her in the semidarkness of the front porch, with fireflies darting around. “A baby?”
She laughed with pure delight. “A baby,” she said, and her voice was like velvet. “I only found out a little while ago. Bodie found out the day you showed up.” She sighed. “So much happiness. It’s almost too much to bear. Mal’s over the moon.”
“Is it a boy or a girl? Do you know yet?”
She shook her head. “Too early to tell. But we’re not going to ask. We want it to be a surprise, however old-fashioned that might be.”
He chuckled. “I’m going to be an uncle. Wow. That’s super. Have you told Mom and Dad?”
“Not yet. I’ll call Mom tonight, though.”
“She’ll be so excited. Her first grandchild.”
Morie glanced at him. “You ever going to get married?” she asked.
“Sure, if Odalie ever says yes.” He sighed. “She was warming up to me there just for a while. Then that Italian fellow came along and offered her voice training. He’s something of a legend among opera stars. And that’s what she wants, to sing at the Met.” He grimaced. “Just my luck, to fall in love with a woman who only wants a career.”
“I believe her mother was the same way, wasn’t she?” Morie asked gently. “And then she and Cole Everett got really close. She gave up being a professional singer to come home and have kids. Although she still composes. That Wyoming group, Desperado, had a major hit from a song she wrote for them some years ago.”
“I think she still composes. But she likes living on a ranch. Odalie hates it. She says she’s never going to marry a man who smells like cow droppings.” He looked at one of his big boots, where his ankle was resting on his other knee in the rocking chair. “I’m a rancher, damn it,” he muttered. “I can’t learn another trade. Dad’s counting on me to take over when he can’t do the work anymore.”
“Yes, I know,” she said sadly. “What else could you do?”
“Teach, I guess,” he replied. “I have a degree in animal husbandry.” He made a face. “I’d rather be shot. I’d rather let that red-feathered assassin loose on my nose. I hate the whole idea of routine.”
“Me, too,” Morie confessed. “I love ranching. I guess the drought is giving Dad problems, too, huh?”
“It’s been pretty bad,” Cort agreed. “People in Oklahoma and the other plains states are having it worse, though. No rain. It’s like the Dust Bowl in the thirties, people are saying. So many disaster declarations.”
“How are you getting around it?”
“Wells, mostly,” he said. “We’ve drilled new ones and filled the tanks to the top. Irrigating our grain crops. Of course, we’ll still have to buy some feed through the winter. But we’re in better shape than a lot of other cattle producers. Damn, I hate how it’s going to impact small ranchers and farmers. Those huge combines will be standing in the shadows, just waiting to pounce when the foreclosures come.”
“Family ranches are going to be obsolete one day, like family farms,” Morie said sadly. “Except, maybe, for the big ones, like ours.”
“True words. People don’t realize how critical this really is.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “That’s why we have the National Cattleman’s Association and the state organizations,” she reminded him. “Now stop worrying. We’re going fishing tomorrow!”
“Really?” he asked, delighted. “Trout?”
“Yes. The water’s just cold enough, still. When it heats up too much, you can’t eat them.” She sighed. “This may be the last chance we’ll get for a while, if this heat doesn’t relent.”
“Tell me about it. We hardly had winter at all in Texas. Spring was like summer, and it’s gone downhill since. I’d love to stand in a trout stream, even if I don’t catch a thing.”
“Me, too.”
“Does Bodie fish?”
“You know, I’ve never asked. We’ll do that tomorrow. For now,” she said, rising, “I’m for bed.” She paused and hugged him. “It’s nice to have you here for a while.”
“For me, too, little sis.” He hugged her back, and kissed her forehead. “See you in the morning.”
Chapter Two (#uceb3b13e-a3e3-5888-a59d-6f77a8e8bb42)
Maddie hadn’t thought about Cort for one whole hour. She laughed at herself while she fed her hens. Pumpkin was in the henhouse, locked in for the time being, so that She could feed the chickens without having to defend herself.
The laughter died away as she recalled the things Cort had said to her. She was ugly and flat-chested and he could never be attracted to her. She looked down at her slender body and frowned. She couldn’t suddenly become beautiful. She didn’t have the money to buy fancy clothes that flattered her, like Odalie did. In fact, her wardrobe was two years old.
When her father had been dying of cancer, every penny they had was tied up trying to keep up with doctor bills that the insurance didn’t cover. Her father did carry life insurance, which was a lucky break because at his death, it was enough to pay back everybody.
But things were still hard. This year, they’d struggled to pay just the utility bills. It was going to come down to a hard choice, sell off cattle or sell off land. There was a developer who’d already been to see Maddie about selling the ranch. He wanted to build a huge hotel and amusement park complex. He was offering her over a million dollars, and he was persistent.
“You just run a few head of cattle here, don’t you?” the tall man in the expensive suit said, but his smile didn’t really reach his eyes. He was an opportunist, looking for a great deal. He thought Maddie would be a pushover once he pulled out a figure that would tempt a saint.
But Maddie’s whole heritage was in that land. Her great-grandfather had started the ranch and suffered all sorts of deprivations to get it going. Her grandfather had taken over where he left off, improving both the cattle herd and the land. Her father had toiled for years to find just the right mix of grasses to pursue a purebred cattle breeding herd that was now the envy of several neighbors. All that would be gone. The cattle sold off, the productive grasslands torn up and paved for the complex, which would attract people passing by on the long, monotonous interstate highway that ran close to the border of the ranch.
“I’ll have to think about it,” she told him, nodding. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, either.
He pursed his lips. “You know, we’re looking at other land in the area, too. You might get left out in the cold if we find someone who’s more enthusiastic about the price we’re offering.”
Maddie didn’t like threats. Even nice ones, that came with soft words and smiles.
“Whatever,” she said. She smiled again. “I did say I’d have to think about it.”
His smile faded, and his eyes narrowed. “You have a prime location here, only one close neighbor and a nearby interstate. I really want this place. I want it a lot.”
“Listen, I hate being pressured…!”
He held up both hands. “Okay! But you think about it. You think hard.” His expression became dangerous-looking. “We know how to deal with reluctant buyers. That’s not a threat, it’s just a statement. Here’s my card.”
She took it gingerly, as if she thought it had germs.
He made a huffing sound and climbed back into his fantastically expensive foreign car. He roared out of the driveway, scattering chickens.
She glared after it. No more eggs for two more days, she thought irritably. She’d rather starve than sell the ranch. But money was getting very tight. The drought was going to be a major hit to their poor finances, she thought dismally.
“Miss Maddie, you got that rooster locked up?” Ben called at the fence, interrupting her depressing reverie.
She turned. “Yes, Ben, he’s restrained.” She laughed.
“Thanks.” He grimaced. “Going to feed the livestock and I’d just as soon not be mauled in the process.”
“I know.” She glanced at the wire door behind which Pumpkin was calling to the hens in that odd tone that roosters used when there was some special treat on the ground for them. It was actually a handful of mealworms that Maddie had tossed in the henhouse to keep him occupied while she locked him in.
Two of the hens went running to the door.
“He’s lying,” Maddie told them solemnly. “He’s already eaten the mealworms, he just wants out.”
“Cort left town, you hear?” Ben asked.
Her heart jumped. “Where did he go?” she asked miserably, waiting to hear that he’d flown to Italy to see Odalie.
“Wyoming, one of his cowboys said, to see his sister.”
“Oh.”
“Mooning over that Odalie girl, I guess,” he muttered. “She said she hated men who smelled like cattle. I guess she hates her dad, then, because he made his fortune on the Big Spur raising cattle, and he still does!”
“She’s just been spoiled,” Maddie said quietly.
Ben glanced at her irritably. “She was mean to you when you were in school. Your dad actually went to the school to get it stopped. He went to see Cole Everett about it, too, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” She flushed. She didn’t like remembering that situation, although Odalie had quickly stopped victimizing her after her father got involved.
“Had a nasty attitude, that one,” Ben muttered. “Looked down her nose at every other girl and most of the boys. Thought she was too good to live in a hick town in Texas.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s going to come a cropper one day, you mark my words. What’s that quote, ‘pride goeth after a fall’? And she’s got a lot farther to fall than some women.”
“There’s another quote, something about love your enemies?” she teased.
“Yes, well, she’s given a lot of people reason to put that one into practice.”
Maddie grimaced. “It must be nice, to have beauty and talent. I’d settle for one or the other myself.” She laughed.
“You ought to be selling them little fairy statues you make,” he advised. “Prettiest little things I ever saw. That one you sent my granddaughter for her birthday sits in the living room, because her mother loves to look at it. One of her friends has an art gallery in San Antonio. She said,” he emphasized, “that you could make a fortune with those things.”
Maddie flushed. “Wow.”
“Not that those pretty drawings are bad, either. Sold one to Shelby Brannt, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She’d loved the idea of Cort having to see her artwork every day, because she knew that Shelby had mounted it on a wall in the dining room of her home. But he probably never even looked at it. Though cultured, Cort had little use for art or sculpture. Unless it was a sculpture of one of the ranch’s prize bulls. They had one done in bronze. It sat on the mantel in the living room of the Brannt home.
