Chapter Four

      Thursday afternoon, Witt took Jana back out to Martins Gap to see the ranch again. It was fun to watch her take in the spectacular scene that was the Blue Thorn Ranch bison herd out in their pasture. He’d borrowed Gunner’s field truck to take her out into the fields—one simply didn’t stroll out into the open fields to pal around with thousand-pound animals—so she could really see what made the ranch unique. It’s the one thing they hadn’t had time to do when she’d come for the earlier dinner, and being out in the open fields was a whole different experience than sitting around the family ranch house.

      “Wow,” she exclaimed, fighting to keep the breeze from sending her hair over her face as they sat in the back of the pickup and watched the herd. “They really are amazing.” He knew Jana was a city girl, but he could tell she caught the splendor of ranch life. It was all over her face as they watched the large brown-furred creatures meander among the tall grasses.

      Witt tipped his hat back as he took in the wide horizon. “I could recite paragraphs to you about how the family groups are preserved, or how the harvesting is done in deliberately stress-free ways, and a bunch of other organic industry buzzwords, but I figured this was better. Whenever the business gets to me, I come out here for a few hours and get my head back on straight. Used to do it on my family ranch, too.”

      Jana fished a hair elastic out of her jeans pocket and pulled her curls back into a haphazard ponytail. A tiny bit of Witt regretted the confinement—Jana’s hair in the wind was an enthralling thing, tumbling around her face and neck in a most distracting way. On second thought, maybe it was for the best that she’d tied it back. He should be glad her hair always had to be up and controlled in the food truck. When she’d worn it down for some of the more personal shots back in the photo studio, he’d had to force himself to stop staring.

      “This isn’t your family ranch?” she asked once the curls were under submission.

      He’d wondered when he’d have to explain the course of events that had brought him to Blue Thorn. This seemed as good a place as any to tell the tale. “You know Gunner and Ellie are my cousins. My dad, Grayson Buckton, was Gunner Senior’s younger brother. At one time they both lived on this ranch, back in the days when this was a big cattle operation.”

      “Gunner said something about revitalizing the ranch when he brought the bison on. So it used to be a cattle ranch?”

      “Yes. And back then, it was twice, maybe three times the size it is now.”

      Jana let out a low whistle. “That must have been a sight to see. Like something out of a Hollywood Western.”

      “Exactly like that. The Bucktons go back four generations in these parts. Gran could tell you stories from back in the day that sound as if they came straight out of an old movie.”

      Gran had taken to Jana right away during that first dinner on the ranch. The 85-year-old matriarch of the family, who still lived on the land with Gunner Jr., welcomed Jana into the Blue Thorn fold with her trademark hospitality. “She seems like quite a woman, your grandmother,” Jana remarked.

      “Oh, she is,” Witt agreed. “Strongest woman I know. It tore her up when her boys fought and my dad took his part of the herd and split off to make his own way.” He waved off an insect that buzzed beside him. “Bucktons can be a headstrong, stubborn lot.”

      Jana gave him a sideways smile. “Can they? I hadn’t noticed,” she teased. The day of the photo shoot had gone wonderfully, but yesterday not so much. The weather had been hot and humid, and the truck’s close quarters had fermented a spat between them over menu pricing. It was threatening to break out into an open argument when he’d called a truce and announced that they needed a “field trip” out here. The whole disagreement seemed petty now that they were out in the breezy pasture, where the glory of God’s nature put everything in perspective.

      “So your dad raises cattle, too?”

      There was the sticking point. “And he’s really good at it—to be honest, he was always better at it than his brother. Dad went off to grow Star Beef into one of the largest ranches in the next county while his elder brother, Gunner, stayed on the Blue Thorn and slowly ran it into the ground.” He shot Jana a look. “You can imagine the family arguments that spawned. The tension between the brothers just grew worse and worse. By the time Gunner Senior died, I don’t think he and my dad had said three words to each other in five years. They never reconciled, and I think it breaks Gran’s heart to this day.”

      There was a bit of a pause before Witt continued, “Go ahead, ask it.”

      “Ask what?” she said, unsuccessfully hiding the question he could see in her eyes.

      “Why am I here and not there?”

      She looked down at her boots. “I wasn’t sure it was any of my business.”

      Witt shifted against the side of the truck and looked out at the herd. “I had always planned to stay. My older sister, Mary, and I ran a lot of the day-to-day operations as Dad stepped back.” He reached for the right words to relay the next part—it still wasn’t easy to tell. “Then Mary married a guy from another huge ranch nearby, and, well, he sort of stepped right into the helm of Star Beef like he owned the place.”

      “Ouch,” Jana said softly. “Didn’t your dad have anything to say about that?”

      Ouch indeed. Jana had hit on the most painful part of the story. “He had the opposite reaction, actually. Cole is very driven and comes from a powerful family. Cole’s older brother runs his family’s ranch, and I think Cole was as bent on outdoing his brother as Dad was determined to outshine Gunner. Dad and Cole took to each other right away, as you can imagine. My role in the company got downgraded over and over again, and pretty soon it wasn’t hard to see the writing on the wall. I wasn’t that keen on spending my life playing second fiddle to Cole. When Gunner and Ellie came to me and asked about working at Blue Thorn, I saw it as a chance to make my own mark.”

      “How does your dad feel about that?”

      Witt shifted his weight. “Let’s just say it’s not everyone’s favorite topic of conversation. I don’t think we’ll see him lining up at the food truck, that’s for sure. My guess is that he’s waiting for it to fail and for me to come back with my tail between my legs. I reckon he thinks the whole thing is a silly fad for gullible city folk, and that it’ll never amount to a real business.”

      “That’s not true,” she shot back. Witt liked the defiance in her voice. She really was the best person for the job. God sure had sent him exactly what he needed—even if it was nothing like he’d expected—with Jana Powers, hadn’t He?

      “No, it’s not,” he agreed. “I think the one truck is just the beginning. I think Blue Thorn could