The Wrangler. Pamela Britton
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over her shoulder. “He’s a real scallywag.”
She glanced back at the barn. “I’ve noticed.”
“He thinks because he’s my grandson he can boss me around.”
“I’ve noticed that, too.”
Gigi studied her. “So I take it that means you knew who he was this whole time. My grandson. Not some kind of ranch hand.”
“I knew,” she said.
Clever girl. “Well, thank God for that. With Clint admitting he lives with me, I was hoping you didn’t think me a cougar or something.”
The young woman stared at her for long seconds, but then threw back her head and laughed. It was so good to see her let loose. She had a feeling that hadn’t happened in a while. And, my, but she was a handsome thing. No wonder Clint was interested in her, although to be honest, Clint had had plenty of beautiful women throwing themselves at him in the past. Not that Sam had thrown herself at him. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was just strange that her grandson was showing an interest in the girl when he’d just met her.
Strange and encouraging. She’d given up all hope of ever having great-grandchildren.
“I wouldn’t have thought that. Well, maybe I might have,” she said. “But only for about one-point-nine seconds.”
“Well,” Gigi said, “as long as it wasn’t for two seconds, I would have forgiven you.”
It’d been too long since Clint had shown interest in any girl, Gigi thought. Oh, there’d been the odd trip into town. He was, after all, a man. But not since Julia had he been so obvious in his pursuit.
Julia. God. Now there was a woman she’d been glad to see the last of.
She can bunk down next to me.
Gigi just bet her grandson would like that.
“It’s a beautiful house,” Sam said, stopping yet again and gazing up at it.
She loved horses. She’d be perfect for Clint.
“It’s been in my family for a long, long time,” Gigi said.
But she was from the city and so that might be a problem. It’d been a problem with Julia. And that made Clint’s interest in Sam all the more strange. Gigi would have thought after Julia he’d give a woman like Sam a wide berth.
“That’s right,” Sam said. “Your family settled this land in the early eighteen-hundreds.”
Maybe he was just flirting with her. Maybe that’s all this was.
“We were one of the first families to live in Montana,” she said. “That’s how we ended up with so much acreage.”
“Twelve thousand acres.”
“No, dear,” Eugenia said. “That’s just this parcel here.” She motioned to the land around them. “We own another hundred thousand to the west there.”
“Really? I only ever read about the twelve thousand acres online.”
She hadn’t known that? Good. At least Gigi wouldn’t have to worry about Sam wanting Clinton for his money…like she had with Julia. It was obvious Sam had been attracted to her grandson before she’d known what he was worth.
“And another fifty-thousand to the east. We have some smaller parcels in between that.”
“I had no idea,” Sam mused.
“We’re one of the largest landowners in Montana.” She watched the woman’s eyes carefully, looking to see if a glint of something entered them. Maybe greed, or delight, or the conniving machination of a woman after her grandson for what he was worth on paper…which was a lot.
“That’s how you’ve kept the horses a secret all these years, isn’t it?” she asked.
So far, so good. The girl didn’t seem the least little bit gleeful.
“We move them around a lot,” Gigi admitted, “which is why they’re not truly wild. We manage them just like we do the cattle.”
“So they don’t run free in the hills?”
Gigi shook her head. “If we let them to do that they’d quickly reproduce in such numbers that they’d become a problem. So we selectively allow them to breed.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed.
“But they run free on a lot of land,” Gigi added.
“I see.”
One of the first questions out of Julia’s mouth was exactly how many acres did they own.
“We run cattle here, too,” Gigi said. “It’s how we keep the place afloat. We might be rich in land, but we have to make ends meet somehow. Some years, it’s not easy what with the cattle market being up and down. We’ve thought about selling some of our land, but then what would we do with the horses?”
That wasn’t true. That wasn’t true at all, but if Sam here was after Clint’s wealth, like Julia had been, Gigi wanted to know about it. So she watched Sam’s face closely for signs.
She just looked sad.
“Have you ever thought about setting up a trust for the horses?” Sam asked. “You know, maybe gather together some private investors. I’ve met a lot of wealthy people—through showing horses—and so I could probably coordinate it all. That way, when money is tight, you wouldn’t have to worry about caring for the horses again.”
“No,” Gigi said honestly. Because in truth the Baers were wealthy. Very wealthy. They’d sold land over the years, invested it. Yes, they lived simply, hadn’t remodeled the house in the past fifty years, or added expensive horse barns or flaunted their wealth. No need for that. They kept to themselves.
“I’d like to help,” Sam said, “if you’ll let me. Horse people are great. If I tell them I need money for wild mustangs, they’ll be onboard. It’ll be a tax write-off for them. That’ll be a plus. And if they donate money we could generate annual income. That income would grow over the years. You guys would never have to worry about taking care of your horses again.”
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