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He looked over her head, out at the pastures, seemed to debate then said, “Whenever you want.”
“Half an hour? At the house?”
Ryan shrugged. “Sure. Half an hour.”
“See you then.”
* * *
RYAN SLOWLY CLOSED the door. This woman was here to evaluate the ranch? Great timing.
He watched through the half-open curtains as she walked across the graveled drive toward the main house. Ellison Hunter wore jeans that hugged her legs, a long expensive-looking sweater and flat ballerina shoes. Her dark blond hair was twisted up into one of those French-roll things that made him want to pull out the pins and let it fall back down. Cool and elegant, she didn’t look like any kind of ranch expert he’d ever seen, but looks could be deceiving. One of the best ropers he’d ever encountered was a sixty-five-year-old grandmother. And she wasn’t half bad at flanking and throwing, either.
Ellison disappeared into the main house and Ryan stepped away from the window and headed back into the bedroom to find a decent shirt.
Damn. What was this about? It figured that the new owners were going to do something with the ranch, since it was, despite what Walt seemed to think, theirs. Walt had been hoping that the Bradworths would be like the new owners of the old Trail Creek Ranch and never set foot on the place, instead using it as some kind of a tax dodge, and, frankly, so had he. Not to be.
Twenty-five minutes later Ryan knocked on the main-house door. Ellison answered almost immediately and he noticed that she’d put on makeup. Nothing major—just brownish eyeliner that made her green eyes seem larger, and lip gloss. Her hair had been smoothed and she had changed out of the long sweater for a white blouse and black jacket that, despite the jeans, made her seem much more...official.
He didn’t have a good feeling about official.
Or maybe it was just that he hated being in the dark. Until matters were settled with the family and Walt came to terms with whatever their plans were, things could be a bit dicey.
“Have a seat,” Ellison said, waving him to one of a set of leather chairs near the tall windows looking out into the semitamed backyard. Walt had never been much for landscaping, but on Mrs. Bradworth’s first visit she had made it clear that the lawn was to be mowed regularly and the bushes trimmed back. Flowers would be nice. Unfortunately, the deer and rabbits had thought flowers were nice, too, resulting in a lot of stems and not many flowers.
After Ryan sat, Ellison took the opposite chair with her back to the windows and settled a yellow legal pad on her knee. Then she smiled at him. A cool, professional, put-you-at-ease smile that only served to tense him up. He’d seen a similar smile once before—just before getting laid off from his last job during college.
“Just a bit about me,” she said. “I work in the field of human resources, so I tend to focus on employees as...well, resources.”
Cool. He was a resource. With her fake, distant smile, she looked like the type who saw employees as resources rather than people.
“Employees are the most valuable component of a smooth-running operation, as I’m sure you know.”
The nasty feeling in the pit of Ryan’s stomach intensified. “This place runs smoothly.”
She smiled again, kind of, and clicked open her pen. “I’d like to talk to everyone employed here, find out what it is you do and how it contributes to the overall operation of the ranch.”
“Is this a formal evaluation?”
“Not really. It’s more of a get-to-know-the-operation evaluation.” She cocked her head. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
There was no way to answer that question honestly.
“It’s just a surprise, you showing up to get to know the operation,” Ryan said smoothly.
“My aunt told Mr. Feldman I was coming a week ago, so my visit is not really a surprise,” she replied in a reasonable voice.
As he’d thought. And Walt hadn’t said a thing until the very last minute when he’d phoned Jessie to send the keys and then gone off on his bender. Or perhaps he’d called midbender.
“The informal evaluation part,” he said. “Did your aunt mention it to Walt?” Because he didn’t believe Walt would have kept that secret. An evaluation was something they needed to prepare for—or at the very least, prepare Walt for.
“Actually, I’m not certain,” Ellison replied.
None of this felt good, but good or bad, he had to deal with it. Ryan leaned back in his chair. “What do you want to know?”
Ellison squared up her notepad. “What is your job title?”
“Cowboy.”
“No. Really.”
He spread his palms in an I-don’t-know-what-else-to-say gesture and she frowned as she realized he was serious. She wrote cowboy after his name.
“I guess you could call me a ranch hand, if it makes you feel better.”
“No, I’m fine with cowboy. And your duties are?”
Ryan leaned his head back slightly as he debated where to begin. “What season?”
Ellison’s eyebrows arched before she said with a faint note of challenge in her voice, “Spring.”
“Calving, branding, fencing. First cutting of alfalfa. Evaluate the grazing.”
Ellison made a note. “Summer?”
“Haying, fencing. Vaccinating. Moving cattle. Irrigating.” A movement outside the window caught his eye. A blue jay had landed on the flat box sitting on the picnic table. The bird turned his head to study the closed flaps through first one eye and then the other.
“Fall?” Ellison asked, and he turned his attention back to her.
“Getting the fields in shape for winter. Fall branding. Preg checking.”
“‘Preg checking’?” Strangely, her cheeks seemed to go a bit pink.
“Seeing which cows are pregnant, then deciding whether to keep or ship those who aren’t.”
“Ship?”
“Sell.”
“Winter?”
His mouth curved into a sardonic smile. “In the winter we mend the harness, of course.”
She gave him a cautious sideways glance. “Meaning?”
Did this woman have no sense of humor? “You can’t do much in the winter here except for feed the livestock. In the old days, the ranchers and farmers would use the downtime to care for their equipment, which is what we do. Winter servicing. And feeding. And generally just trying to keep everything alive.”
Outside the window the jay starting pecking at the box. Ryan kind of wished he was outside with the bird.
Ellie pointed a finger at the legal pad. “These jobs you’ve mentioned, could you be more specific about what it is you do?”
“Like make a list or something?”
“If you made a résumé, what skills would you put on it?”
He simply blinked at her. “Am I writing a résumé? Or a job description that you might post somewhere in the future when you hire someone to replace me?” He didn’t want to give her ideas, but he didn’t want to make it easy to replace him, either.
Ms. Hunter blinked at him. “Neither. I want you to write the list so that the owners can be familiar with exactly what it is you do.”
“Do you want bullet points?”
“Yes.” There was no hint of humor in her voice.
Another jay landed on the picnic table, then two more. A squabble broke out, but the original jay held his position on top of the box.
“I’ll do what I can,” Ryan said. “I’ve been gone a couple days and I have a full schedule today. Maybe I can get something worked up tonight or tomorrow.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Yeah. I bet you will. And I bet you’ll be wearing that fake smile if you happen to announce you’re letting us all go. If the worst happened, he could get another job, but Walt needed this position and Ryan hated to think about what would happen if he had to move off the place—especially after his wild talk that morning.
“What else—”
Ellison sucked in a sudden breath, cutting him off, and jumped to her feet. It was obvious what had startled her. Birds. Lots of them.
The jays had managed to work open a flap of the box and now five of them were happily pecking at what looked like a pumpkin pie. Ryan rose to his feet and walked over to the window.
It was a pumpkin pie, and he instantly recognized what was left of the pastry leaf design on top.
“You put Jessie’s pie out for the birds?” he asked as he turned toward Ellison, whose cheeks were flushed a deep pink.
“No.” The word came out too fast.
“Then why is it out there?”
“I wanted it to cool so I could put it in the fridge.”
“Last I heard fridges did a real good job of cooling.”
Ellison pushed a few stray strands of hair back into place. “The boy who brought it—Lonnie—said I shouldn’t put it in the fridge, so I put it outside.”
“As opposed to leaving it on the counter in here?” Ellison went totally red. Good. Ryan cocked his head. “How much time have you spent in the country?”
“Some.” She met his eyes with a touch of defiance.
Skiing, perhaps? “Don’t put food outside. It brings in the animals. You’re lucky that mob of birds isn’t a bear.”
Her lips started to form the word bear then tightened. “I didn’t know,” she said stiffly, giving Ryan the distinct impression that she did not like to be wrong.
“I really have to get to work,” he said. Not that this hasn’t been fun and all. But he needed to get out of there and regroup before he said anything that jeopardized his job, or Walt’s. As it was, he was too damned close to pointing out that she wasn’t qualified to evaluate a ranch or anything in a rural setting.
“I understand.” Ellie walked to the window, close to where he stood—close enough that he caught the subtle scent of probably expensive perfume—to get a better look at the bird-infested pie. The biggest jay was now standing smack in the middle of it, orange pumpkin staining his underbelly. Ellison pursed her lips thoughtfully before looking up at him, her expression once again distant. Professional.
“Could we keep this between us?” she asked.
Afraid of owning up to your mistakes? The words teetered on Ryan’s tongue, but instead he said, “The pie?”
“Yes.”
“I’d hate to hurt Jessie’s feelings, so yeah. I’ll keep quiet.”
For now. He’d make his final decision after he got a feel for how all of this was going to play out.
CHAPTER FOUR
THIS COULD GET UGLY. Ryan made a supreme effort to relax his tight jaw muscles as he headed out of the house and across the lawn. He failed.
I view employees as resources.
Ryan agreed that employees were resources, but the way she’d said it had made it sound as if employees were interchangeable cogs. Things rather than people.
Maybe he was misjudging her intent, but he was certain that Ellison Hunter didn’t know jack about ranch employees and she was in no position to judge them. She didn’t understand the blood, sweat and tears that went into making a ranch run and prosper. The sacrifices made. The simple joys that compensated for giving up so much. She wouldn’t understand that the characteristics that might appear undesirable on an employee evaluation—stubbornness, overt independence, speaking one’s mind without regard to tact—were characteristics that helped a person to succeed in this business.
And how was she going to take his rodeo absences? Somehow he didn’t think Ms. Hunter was going to be all that amenable to him disappearing for several days every week during the months of July and August. Tough. She wasn’t there to take over management—at least not yet—so until he was told differently, he was going to continue as he had been doing, hiring Lonnie to cover for him and juggling his schedule. Francisco could watch Walt.
Instead of going into his house, Ryan shifted course and went to his truck. Lonnie had fed the livestock that wasn’t on pasture that morning, and the rest of the day’s work could wait.
Less than five minutes later Jessie had him seated at the kitchen table with a piece of warm coffee cake, while Jeff ran his cars back and forth over the opposite end of the long handmade table. Jessie was nervous. It showed in her jerky movements, the set of her lips.
“So Francisco has to make a résumé?” she asked. Ranch jobs were not easy to come by and even a hint that they would have to start looking was enough to chase the color from her face. Francisco would probably have no trouble getting a job as a mechanic, but getting another place to live with room for their livestock on a single salary would be rough.
“No. She wants a list of what I do and I’m sure she’ll want the same from Francisco. And Walt.”
Jessie gave her head a shake, her expression grim. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I,” he muttered.
“More coffee?” She automatically reached for the pot, but Ryan stood before she got hold of it.
“No. I’m heading over to Walt’s and I’ll probably have more there.” The way the day was going, he’d be lucky if he got to work by noon.
“I’ll have Francisco stop by your place after he gets home.”
“Sounds good.”
Jessie bit the edge of her lip. “It was just so much better when Walt owned the place outright.”
“The bank owned it, Jessie. And they were ready to take it.”
