The Rancher. Diana Palmer
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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.
“Ought to paint that rooster while he’s still alive,” Ben said darkly.
“Ben!”
He held up both hands. “Didn’t say I was going to hurt him.”
“Okay.”
“But somebody else might.” He pursed his lips. “You know, he could be the victim of a terrible traffic accident one day. He loves to run down that dirt road in front of the house.”
“You bite your tongue,” she admonished.
“Spoilsport.”
“That visitor who came the other day, that developer, you see him again?” Ben asked curiously.
“No, but he left his name.” She pulled his business card out of her pocket and held it up. “He’s from Las Vegas. He wants to build a hotel and amusement park complex right here.” She looked around wistfully. “Offered me a million dollars. Gosh, what I could do with that!”
“You could sell and throw away everything your family worked for here?” Ben asked sadly. “My great-grandfather started working here with your great-grandfather. Our families have been together all that time.” He sighed. “Guess I could learn to use a computer and make a killing with a dot-com business,” he mused facetiously.
“Aw, Ben,” she said gently. “I don’t want to sell up. I was just thinking out loud.” She smiled, and this time it was genuine. “I’d put a lot of people out of work, and God knows what I’d do with all the animals who live here.”
“Especially them fancy breeding bulls and cows,” he replied. “Cort Brannt would love to get his hands on them. He’s always over here buying our calves.”
“So he is.”
Ben hesitated. “Heard something about that developer, that Archie Lawson fellow.”
“You did? What?”
“Just gossip, mind.”
“So? Tell me!” she prodded.
He made a face. “Well, he wanted a piece of land over around Cheyenne, on the interstate. The owner wouldn’t sell. So cattle started dying of mysterious causes. So did the owner’s dog, a big border collie he’d had for years. He hired a private investigator, and had the dog autopsied. It was poison. They could never prove it was Lawson, but they were pretty sure of it. See, he has a background in chemistry. Used to work at a big government lab, they say, before he started buying and selling land.”
Her heart stopped. “Oh, dear.” She bit her lip. “He said something about knowing how to force deals...”
“I’ll get a couple of my pals to keep an eye on the cattle in the outer pastures,” Ben said. “I’ll tell them to shoot first and ask questions later if they see anybody prowling around here.”
“Thanks, Ben,” she said heavily. “Good heavens, as if we don’t already have enough trouble here with no rain, for God knows how long.”
“Everybody’s praying for it.” He cocked his head. “I know a Cheyenne medicine man. Been friends for a couple of years. They say he can make rain.”
“Well!” She hesitated. “What does he charge?”
“He doesn’t. He says he has these abilities that God gave him, and if he ever takes money for it, he’ll lose it. Seems to believe it, and I hear he’s made rain at least twice in the area. If things go from bad to worse, maybe we should talk to him.”
She grinned. “Let’s talk to him.”
He chuckled. “I’ll give him a call later.”
Her eyebrows arched. “He has a telephone?”
“Miss Maddie,” he scoffed, “do you think Native American people still live in teepees and wear headdresses?”
She flushed. “Of course not,” she lied.
“He lives in a house just like ours, he wears jeans and T-shirts mostly and he’s got a degree in anthropology. When he’s not fossicking, they say he goes overseas with a group of mercs from Texas for top secret operations.”
She was fascinated. “Really!”
“He’s something of a local celebrity on the rez. He lives there.”
“Could you call him and ask him to come over when he has time?”
He laughed. “I’ll do that tonight.”
“Even if he can’t make rain, I’d love to meet him,” she said. “He sounds very interesting.”
“Take my word for it, he is. Doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s worth hearing. Well, I’ll get back to work.”
“Thanks, Ben.”
He smiled. “My pleasure. And don’t let that developer bully you,” he said firmly. “Maybe you need to talk to Cort’s dad and tell him what’s going on. He’s not going to like that, about the development. It’s too close to his barns. In these hard times, even the Brannts couldn’t afford to build new ones with all that high tech they use.”
“Got a point. I’ll talk to him.”
Maddie went back to the house. She put the feed basket absently on the kitchen counter, mentally reviewing all the things she had