An Unlikely Rancher. Roz Fox Denny
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and took you in and fed you so that your ribs no longer stand out, you ungrateful mutt.”
He stood and looked after the SUV. “Don’t be swayed by a pretty face.”
* * *
IT HADN’T ESCAPED Jenna’s attention as she’d helped strap Andee into her car seat that the airpark owner’s smile carved a dent in his right cheek that looked suspiciously like a dimple. She was a sucker for dimples. And military men had a way of turning the heads of females in her family, regardless of age. As her six-year-old had just proved.
Here she’d moved them across the country to get away from uniformed airmen only to find a hot-looking pilot owned a business a few hills removed from her new home.
Clamping her back teeth together, Jenna got in and drove off, ignoring how Andee kept waving.
“Mommy, why don’t we have a dog?” Andee asked once the airpark disappeared behind them in a ruffle of dust.
Jenna tilted the rearview mirror so she could see her daughter better. “Well, mostly we lived in apartments,” she said, not wanting to tell Andee that her father had repeatedly vetoed the suggestion of adopting a dog or a cat. Andrew had always been something of a neat freak. But he’d gotten more obsessive on his last few rotations home between tours.
“We don’t live in a ’partment now,” Andee responded.
“No, but I’m not sure if the ostriches would react well to a dog running around.”
“What if he didn’t run around? I could keep him inside the house with me.”
Jenna frowned and realized she wasn’t going to win this argument with logic. “You haven’t even seen baby ostriches yet. I’m counting on your help feeding the babies after they pop out of their eggs.”
“What will I feed them? We don’t have any milk or anything in our ’frigerator.”
“It so happens I see a grocery store in that strip mall across the street from the next stoplight. We’ll go there and buy some groceries—for us, not for the birds. Mr. Martin, the man who used to own our birds, left their food in one of the sheds, remember?
“Ostriches don’t eat people food,” Jenna reiterated after she parked and helped Andee out.
“This isn’t like our old store,” Andee said, standing inside the door as her mother found a grocery cart.
“We’ll probably have to get used to new brands, but the food will be the same. Besides milk, what can you think of that we need to get?”
“Pizza and pasketti.”
“Oh, you funny girl. You’d eat those seven days a week if I’d let you.”
“I like soup and cheese sandwiches, too, Mommy.”
“That you do. Here’s the soup aisle. It’s a good place to start.”
Jenna added up prices as they meandered the aisles. She hadn’t told her family, but she’d had to pay cash for the ranch. It was a shock to learn that she didn’t have a credit rating even though with Andrew gone so much she’d been the one to handle their budgets. She’d never questioned that their on-base housing and utilities had been in his name.
Before his death she hadn’t given much thought to what went on behind the scenes in banking. They’d had a joint credit card.
After Andrew’s death she’d had to apply for one in her name. The bank had issued her a debit card, which she’d needed to watch closely, since Andrew’s benefits had been frozen until the completion of the investigation.
Before their marriage, she’d lived with her parents. After, Andrew had been the sole breadwinner.
Now it was all up to her.
Andee, who had wandered ahead in the aisle, suddenly ran back and plopped a box in the basket.
“Whoa, there. What are you getting, sweetheart?” Jenna picked it up and was surprised to see it was a supersized box of dog biscuits. “Honey, we don’t need this. I said we might not be able to get a dog because of the ostriches. Run and put this back on the shelf, please.”
Andee pouted. “But I can feed Beezer when he comes to visit me.”
“Uh, honey...I know you liked Beezer a lot, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. We don’t really know his owner. I can’t think of any reason why we’ll see him again. Put the dog treats back. I promise I’ll ask Mr. Martin, the man who owned the ranch, if having a dog would scare the ostriches.”
The girl clutched the box that bore the face of an almost dead ringer for the gray-and-cream-splotched dog she’d taken such a shine to. Then, long-faced, she dragged her feet back down the aisle, leaving her mother once again irritated over the unexpected consequences of her useless meeting with Flynn Sutton.
* * *
IT DIDN’T TAKE long to reach her card’s limit and pack the back of the SUV with groceries.
In short order they reached the ranch. That brought a smile to Jenna’s face—the very fact nothing in this town—even split in two by a major highway—was more than a dozen minutes from home. Most bases they’d lived on were huge and had taken longer than this to navigate from one end to the other.
Locked in thought, it took Jenna a few moments to register that a silver pickup with a skewed back bumper sat in the spot outside her home where she intended to park. She slowed as she noticed a man emerge from one of her sheds.
She pulled around the pickup, stopped and released her seat belt. She heard Andee doing the same. “Sweetie, stay in your seat for a minute. There’s a man, a stranger, over by the ostrich pens. He’s probably the manager the Realtor mentioned. However, I need to have a word with him to be sure.”
“Okay.” Andee leaned forward and pressed her nose against the side window. “Does he have a dog?”
“None that I see,” Jenna muttered. “If he is the interim manager, I’ll ask if he knows of any problems with us getting you a dog.”
“Yay. I hope he says it’s okay.” Andee settled back to slurp the chocolate milk they’d splurged on.
Jenna saw the guy pull a ball cap from his back pocket as she closed the gap between them. He adjusted it to shade his eyes from the midday sun and leaned on a pitchfork he’d carried out of the shed.
Stopping short, Jenna gave her name. “I’m the new owner,” she added. “I assume you’re the man Bud Rhodes said was taking care of the ostriches in his absence.”
“Yep. Don Winkleman. I didn’t come by yesterday because Oscar said you were due in. I expected to hear from you.”
“I didn’t know your schedule.”
“Been working some every day for two years. I wanted to buy the place, but Oscar needed all his money up front and I wasn’t able to get 100 percent financing. You’ll pardon me if I say you don’t look like a rancher.”
Jenna chuckled. “I’m still getting moved in. I have gloves and boots, so I’m sure I’ll look the part of a rancher soon.”
“Still, all the trappings don’t make you a rancher.” Don spat off to his right and wiped his mouth with a blue kerchief he pulled from a pocket in his overalls.
She couldn’t say she liked this guy’s tone.
He set the pitchfork against the shed. “I manage the place. That’s worth more money.” He abruptly named a figure substantially higher than what Oscar Martin had put in his notes.
The new amount he requested bowled her over. But Jenna refused to let his directness cow her. She figured the amount he’d named was for full management. She’d already planned that by working with him she’d soon be able to cut some of his current part-time hours. But she wasn’t about to share that