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“That’s a long time,” she agreed. “I’m not selling my place,” she added firmly. “No matter what that fancy Las Vegas man does.”
“Good for you. I’ll help you make sure of that. I’ll send Cort on over.”
“He’s back from visiting his sister?” she stammered.
“Yes. Got back yesterday. They went trout fishing.” She sighed. “I’d love to go trout fishing.”
“Cort loves it. He said they did close the trout streams for fishing a couple of days after he and Dana—Morie, I mean, went. The heat makes it impossible.“
“That’s true.” She hesitated. “Why do you call Morie Dana?” she blurted out.
He laughed. “When Shelby was carrying them, we called them Matt and Dana. Those were the names we picked out. Except that two of our friends used those names for theirs and we had to change ours. It got to be a habit, though, until the kids were adolescents.
“Hey, Cort,” she heard King call, his hand covering the receiver so his voice was a little muffled.
“Yes, Dad?” came the reply.
“I want you to go over to the Lane place and give Maddie some help with her breeding program.”
“The hell I will!” Cort burst out.
The hand over the phone seemed to close, because the rest of it was muffled. Angry voices, followed by more discussion, followed like what seemed a string of horrible curses from Cort.
King came back on the line. “He said he’d be pleased to come over and help,” he lied. “But he did ask if you’d shut your rooster up first.” He chuckled.
“I’ll put him in the chicken house right now.” She tried not to sound as miserable as she felt. She knew Cort didn’t want to help her. He hated her. “And thank you again.”
“You’re very welcome. Call us if you need help with Lawson. Okay?”
“Okay.”
True to his father’s words, Cort drove up in front of the house less than an hour later. He wasn’t slamming doors or scattering chickens this time, either. He looked almost pleasant. Apparently his father had talked to him very firmly.
Maddie had combed her hair and washed her face. She still wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. She had on her nicest jeans and a pink T-shirt that said La Vie en Rose.
It called attention, unfortunately, to breasts that were small and pert instead of big and tempting. But Cort was looking at her shirt with his lips pursed.
“The world through rose-colored glasses?” he mused.
“You speak French.”
“Of course. French, Spanish and enough German to get me arrested in Munich. We do cattle deals all over the world,” he added.
“Yes, I remember.” She swallowed, hard, recalling the things he’d said at their last unfortunate meeting. “Your father said you could help me figure out Dad’s breeding program.”
“I think so. I helped him work up the new one before he passed away,” he added quietly. “We were all shocked by how fast it happened.”
“So were we,” Maddie confessed. “Two months from the time he was diagnosed until he passed on.” She drew in a long breath. “He hated tests, you know. He wouldn’t go to the doctor about anything unless he was already at death’s door. I think the doctor suspected something, but Dad just passed right over the lecture about tests being necessary and walked out. By the time they diagnosed the cancer, it was too late for anything except radiation. And somebody said that they only did that to help contain the pain.” Her pale eyes grew sad. “It was terrible, the pain. At the last, he was so sedated that he hardly knew me. It was the only way he could cope.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t lost parents, but I lost both my grandparents. They were wonderful people. It was hard to let them go.”
“Life goes on,” she said quietly. “Everybody dies. It’s just a matter of how and when.”
“True.”
She swallowed. “Dad kept his chalkboard in the barn, and his books in the library, along with his journals. I’ve read them all, but I can’t make sense of what he was doing. I’m not college educated, and I don’t really know much about animal husbandry. I know what I do from watching Dad.”
“I can explain it to you.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
She turned and led the way to the house.
“Where’s that…rooster?” he asked.
“Shut up in the henhouse with a fan.”
“A fan?” he exclaimed and burst out laughing.
“It really isn’t funny,” she said softly. “I lost two of my girls to the heat. Found them dead in the henhouse, trying to lay. I had Ben go and get us a fan and install it there. It does help with the heat, a little at least.”
“My grandmother used to keep hens,” he recalled. “But we only have one or two now. Foxes got the rest.” He glanced at her. “Andie, our housekeeper, wants to get on your egg customer list for two dozen a week.”
She nodded. “Your dad mentioned that. I can do that. I’ve got pullets that should start laying soon. My flock is growing by leaps and bounds.” She indicated the large fenced chicken yard, dotted with all sorts of chickens. The henhouse was huge, enough to accommodate them all, complete with perches and ladders and egg boxes and, now, a fan.
“Nice operation.”
“I’m going to expand it next year, if I do enough business.”
“Did you check the law on egg production?”
She laughed. “Yes, I did. I’m in compliance. I don’t have a middleman, or I could be in trouble. I sell directly to the customer, so it’s all okay.”
“Good.” He shrugged, his hands in his jean pockets. “I’d hate to have to bail you out of jail.”
“You wouldn’t,” she sighed.
He stopped and looked down at her. She seemed so dejected. “Yes, I would,” he said, his deep voice quiet and almost tender as he studied her small frame, her short wavy blond hair, her wide, soft gray eyes. Her complexion was exquisite, not a blemish on it except for one small mole on her cheek. She had a pretty mouth, too. It looked tempting. Bow-shaped, soft, naturally pink…
“Cort?” she asked suddenly, her whole body tingling, her heart racing at the way he was staring at her mouth.
“What? Oh. Yes. The breeding books.” He nodded. “We should get to it.”
“Yes.” She swallowed, tried to hide her blush and opened the front door.
Chapter Three (#ulink_09e9d165-031e-5b26-b687-ad8cf66cefc3)
Maddie couldn’t help but stare at Cort as he leaned over the desk to read the last page of her father’s breeding journal. He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. And that physique! He was long and lean, but also muscular. Broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, and in the opening of his chambray shirt, thick curling black hair peeked out.
She’d never been overly interested in intimacy. Never having indulged, she had no idea how it felt, although she’d been reading romance novels since her early teens. She did know how things worked between men and women from health class. What she didn’t know was why women gave in to men. She supposed it came naturally.
Cort felt her eyes on him and turned, so that he was looking directly into her wide, shocked gray eyes. His own dark ones narrowed. He knew that look, that expression. She was trying to hide it, but he wasn’t fooled.
“Take a picture,” he drawled, because her interest irritated him. She wasn’t his type. Not at all.
Her reaction shamed him. She looked away, cleared her throat and went beet-red. “Sorry,” she choked. “I was just thinking. You were sort of in the way. I was thinking about my fairies…”
He felt guilty. That made him even more irritable. “What fairies?”
She stumbled and had to catch herself as she went past him. She was so embarrassed she could hardly even walk.
She went to the shelf where she’d put the newest one. Taking it down very carefully, she carried it to the desk and put it in front of him.
He caught his breath. He picked it up, delicately for a man with such large, strong hands, and held it up to his eyes. He turned it. He was smiling. “This is really beautiful,” he said, as if it surprised him. He glanced at her. “You did this by yourself?”
She moved uneasily. “Yes,” she muttered. What did he think—that she had somebody come in and do the work so she could claim credit for it?
“I didn’t mean it like that, Maddie,” he said gently. The sound of her name on his lips made her tingle. She didn’t dare look up, because her attraction to him would surely show. He knew a lot more about women than she knew about men. He could probably tell already that she liked him. It had made him mad. So she’d have to hide it.
“Okay,” she said. But she still wouldn’t look up.
He gave the beautiful little statuette another look before he put it down very gently on the desk. “You should be marketing those,” he said firmly. “I’ve seen things half as lovely sell for thousands of dollars.”
“Thousands?” she exclaimed.
“Yes. Sometimes five figures. I was staying at a hotel in Arizona during a cattlemen’s conference and a doll show was exhibiting at the same hotel. I talked to some of the artists.” He shook his head. “It’s amazing how much collectors will pay for stuff like that.” He indicated the fairy with his head. “You should look into it.”
She was stunned. “I never dreamed people would pay so much for a little sculpture.”
“Your paintings are nice, too,” he admitted. “My mother loves the drawing you did. She bought it at that art show last year. She said you should be selling the sculptures, too.”
“I would. It’s just that they’re like my children,” she confessed, and flushed because that sounded nutty. “I mean…well, it’s hard to explain.”
“Each one is unique and you put a lot of yourself into it,” he guessed. “So it would be hard to sell one.”
“Yes.” She did look up then, surprised that he was so perceptive.
“You have the talent. All you need is the drive.”
“Drive.” She sighed. She smiled faintly. “How about imminent starvation? Does that work for drive?”
He laughed. “We wouldn’t let you starve. Your bull calves are too valuable to us,” he added, just when she thought he might actually care.
“Thanks,” she said shyly. “In that journal of Dad’s—” she changed the subject “—he talks about heritability traits for lean meat with marbling to produce cuts that health-conscious consumers will buy. Can you explain to me how I go about producing herd sires that carry the traits we breed for?”
He smiled. “It’s complicated. Want to take notes?”
She sighed. “Just like going back to school.” Then she remembered school, and the agonies she went through in her junior and senior years because of Odalie Everett, and her face clenched.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.
She swallowed. She almost said what was wrong. But she’d been down that road with him already, making comments she shouldn’t have made about Odalie. She wasn’t going to make him mad. Not now, when he was being pleasant and helpful.
“Nothing. Just a stray thought.” She smiled. “I’ll get some paper and a pencil.”
After a half hour she put down the pencil. “It’s got to be like learning to speak Martian,” she muttered.
He laughed out loud. “Listen, I didn’t come into the world knowing how this stuff worked, either. I had to learn it, and if my dad hadn’t been a patient man, I’d have jumped off a cliff.”
“Your dad is patient?” she asked, and couldn’t help sounding surprised.
“I know he’s got a reputation for being just the opposite. But he really is patient. I had a hard time with algebra in high school. He’d take me into the office every night and go over problems with me until I understood how to do them. He never fussed, or yelled, or raised his voice. And I was a problem child.” He shook his head. “I’m amazed I got through my childhood in one piece. I’ve broken half the bones in my body at some point, and I know my mother’s gray hairs are all because of me. Morie was a little lady. She never caused anybody any trouble.”
“I remember,” Maddie said with a smile. “She was always kind to me. She was a couple of years ahead of me, but she was never snobby.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “There’s a hidden comment in there.”
She flushed. “I didn’t mention anybody else.”
“You meant Odalie,” he said. “She can’t help being beautiful and rich and talented,” he pointed out. “And it wasn’t her fault that her parents put her in public school instead of private school, where she might have been better treated.”
“Better treated.” She glared at him. “Not one teacher or administrator ever had a bad word to say about her, even though she bullied younger girls mercilessly and spent most of her time bad-mouthing people she didn’t like. One year she had a party for our whole class, at the ranch. She invited every single girl in the class—except me.”
Cort’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.”
“My father went to see her father, that’s how unintentional it was,” she replied quietly. “When Cole Everett knew what she’d done to me, he grounded her for a month and took away her end-of-school trip as punishment.”
“That seems extreme for not inviting someone to a party,” he scoffed.
“I guess that’s because you don’t know about the other things she did to me,” she replied.
“Let me guess—she didn’t send you a Valentine’s Day card, either,” he drawled in a tone that dripped sarcasm.
She looked at him with open sadness. “Sure. That’s it. I held a grudge because she didn’t send me a holiday card and my father went to see the school principal and Odalie’s father because he liked starting trouble.”
Cort remembered her father. He was the mildest, most forgiving man anywhere around Branntville. He’d walk away from a fight if he could. The very fact that he got involved meant that he felt there was more than a slight problem.
But Cort loved Odalie, and here was this badtempered little frump making cracks about her, probably because she was jealous.
“I guess if you don’t have a real talent and you aren’t as pretty, it’s hard to get along with someone who has it all,” he commented.
Her face went beet-red. She stood up, took her father’s journal, closed it and put it back in the desk drawer. She faced him across the width of the desk.
“Thank you for explaining the journal to me,” she said in a formal tone. “I’ll study the notes I took very carefully.”
“Fine.” He started to leave, hesitated. He turned and looked back at her. He could see an unusual brightness in her eyes. “Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just, well, you don’t know Odalie. She’s sweet and kind, she’d never hurt anybody on purpose.”
“I don’t have any talent, I’m ugly and I lie.” She nodded. “Thanks.”
