Cattleman's Heart. Lois Dyer Faye
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“What? Oh, yes.” She yawned. “Really. I’m just not awake yet.” She added when he looked unconvinced.
“If you say so.” He shot her one last look and left the kitchen, the screen door slapping softly shut behind him.
Rebecca groaned and dropped her face into her hands.
I can barely think early in the morning, let alone deal with him.
All that sex appeal should come with a warning label, she thought, getting up to put the kettle on. Coffee just wasn’t a substitute for a strong cup of tea first thing in the morning.
Revived by hot tea and toast, Rebecca headed back up the stairs to shower and dress for the day in a lightweight white skirt, matching top and sandals. By seven o’clock, she was opening the office door, laptop and briefcase in hand.
Much to her surprise, she found the computer unpacked, the heavy monitor, CPU and keyboard sitting on the desktop, while the printer stood on a table placed at a right angle on the far side of the desk.
“Jackson must have unpacked it last night after I went to bed,” she mused.
Touched by his consideration, she took time to plug in her laptop to check her e-mail, then pulled out her cell phone. The phone didn’t respond with a dial tone, however, and she switched to the desktop phone. It took only a few moments to check her phone messages at her apartment, but much longer when she connected to her office voice mail. Her pen flew across the paper as she jotted down names, phone numbers and noted priorities, making a mental note to check her electronic daytimer before e-mailing her secretary with instructions.
Satisfied that her responsibilities in San Francisco were taken care of, she connected the cables and plugged in Jackson’s new desktop computer. Green, red and amber lights blinked and the CPU hummed with a satisfactory, familiar sound. She installed her favorite software and loaded the programs Jackson had bought to address specific ranching issues, including a spreadsheet to track the breeding program. She found the programs surprisingly fascinating.
At ten o’clock, she glanced at her watch and reached for the phone. It was eight o’clock in San Francisco and her mother’s secretary promptly put her through to Kathleen.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Good morning, Rebecca. How was your flight?”
“Fine, except for the truly terrible lunch the airline served in first class. I had rubber chicken again.”
Kathleen’s chuckle warmed the phone line. Rebecca eased back in the swivel wooden desk chair and stretched out her legs, propping her feet on the round metal wastebasket beneath the desk.
“Other than that, how are things going? Are you settled in?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean ‘sort of’? Weren’t your rooms ready?”
“Not rooms. Room, Mom, singular. One bedroom, which is fine. The bed is comfortable and that’s the most important thing. The problem is that the house has four bedrooms, one of which is mine. The other three are occupied by the four men who work here on the ranch. And Mr. Rand seems to think that the two youngest ones will fight over dating me while the third man, Hank, who I’m guessing is somewhere in his seventies, hates women and wants me to leave.”
“What about Jackson Rand?” Kathleen asked after a short silence.
Rebecca had a quick mental image of Jackson’s abrupt departure earlier that morning. “I suspect that he strongly wishes that I would leave, too, but he’s stuck with me and he knows it.”
Kathleen’s sigh was clearly audible over the line separating Montana and San Francisco. “Good grief. Why can’t these things ever be simple?”
Rebecca laughed. She was familiar with her mother’s long struggle to survive in a male-dominated business world. “Because of the never ending battle of the sexes.” She quoted her mother’s oft heard comment. “It’s going to be fine, Mom.”
“Are you sure you’re safe living in the house with these men?”
Kathleen’s concern was clear and Rebecca hastened to reassure her. “Absolutely, Mom. I’m not the slightest bit worried about safety. It’s just going to take a while to convince Mr. Rand that I’m not going to encourage either of the younger members of his crew, and that I can win over Hank. By the way,” she added, grinning, “Hank reminds me of Mr. Althorpe.”
“Hmm. Maybe you can bribe him with chocolate.”
“Exactly what I wondered.”
The two women shared a companionable, understanding moment of silence.
“So,” Kathleen said briskly. “What can you tell me about the business?”
Rebecca told her what little she’d learned about Jackson’s operation in a brief, concise report. “I haven’t had a tour of the facility yet, but plan to ask Mr. Rand to show me around tonight after work. Mom,” she paused, wondering how to word her question and opting for bluntness. “I have to confess, I’m baffled as to why you want me to stay here for so long. The operation seems fairly straightforward. I understand that you want to keep a close eye on Bay Area’s money since this is our first investment in this type of business, but I could just as easily have flown in for a few days and then come back in a month or two to check on the status of the business. I’m not sure what it is you expect me to do every day that will keep me busy for a few months.”
Kathleen’s hesitation was so brief that if Rebecca didn’t know her so intimately, she might have missed it.
“I’d rather err on the side of caution, Rebecca. With you on-site, I know we’ll have instant input if there are any problems with Mr. Rand’s business plans going forward. And besides,” she added, “you haven’t had a vacation in four years. It’s about time you drew an assignment with enough downtime to let you relax.”
“I’m not sure that I need a vacation,” Rebecca replied, unconvinced that Kathleen was telling her all of her reasons, but knowing that her mother wouldn’t share the whole story until she was ready. “But if you want me here, I’m sure I’ll find plenty to occupy my time.”
“Good,” Kathleen replied. “I’d like you to check in with the attorney, Victoria Bowdrie, in Colson today. She has some documents that need to be signed and, instead of having them forwarded here to the central office, I’ve authorized you to sign on behalf of the company.”
“All right. I’ll drive in this morning, it’ll give me an opportunity to get my bearings and check out the shopping in Colson.”
Kathleen laughed. “That’s my girl.”
“Bye, Mom.”
Kathleen rang off and Rebecca tidied up the desk, shut down the computer and headed upstairs to collect her purse and car keys.
Jackson was in the hayloft of the big barn, tearing out broken floorboards and replacing them with new planks. The huge doors stood open at each end of the loft, the slight cross-breeze doing little to cool the midmorning heat trapped beneath the rafters. He hammered a nail home and stood, wiping his brow with the back of his forearm as he walked to the open door where it was several degrees cooler. He picked up a five-gallon thermos jug off the floor just inside the door and held it aloft, twisting the spout to let the water pour over his head and shoulders before lowering it to his mouth. The cool water felt as good going down his throat as it had cascading over his torso, the slight breeze cooling him further as it flowed over his wet chest and arms.
The day promised to be another scorcher, he reflected, wondering just how hot it was.
The slap of wood against wood sounded clearly across the ranch yard. Jackson glanced toward the house and went still, the water jug forgotten in his hand.
Rebecca descended the porch steps, legs and arms tan against a white skirt and short-sleeved top.