The Rancher's Reunion. Tina Radcliffe
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She wasn’t far off the mark. “Annie, the place seems to be exploding with ideas. I’d like to expand and put in Quonset huts and a full kitchen and hold full camps Monday through Friday, all summer long. The place would be a Christian dude ranch. I know it’s not a new idea. There are plenty around the area. But it’s still a pretty lucrative opportunity, considering we’re smack-dab in the middle of the Bible Belt.”
“That’s a terrific vision. I can see it happening.”
Excitement sizzled through him as he spoke. “Can you, Annie? Because I really can.” He fiddled with a thread on his jeans. “Sometimes I’m so fired up I could burst with needing to talk.”
“Will Sullivan a chatterbox. Now that’s a new one.”
Will paused for a moment, taking in the picture Annie made. A smile teased her lips, and her eyes brimmed with laughter. Unable to resist, he reached out and gently adjusted the crooked ball cap on her head.
“Better?” she asked quietly.
“Perfect,” Will returned.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Will knew that at this moment he was more content than he had been in a very long time.
“Now I remember why they call it Green Country,” she said, her gaze taking in the thick, lush grass and the leafy trees around them.
“Pretty, huh?”
“Yes, but I just realized I missed the azaleas blooming.”
“Stick around. They bloom every year.”
She frowned.
“You missed most of tornado season, too.”
“That I don’t miss,” she said. “Remember that year one hit the barn and took your cow two miles down the road?”
“Yeah. Amazing old Daisy was unhurt. Mad as all get-out, but not a thing wrong with that cow.”
“Rose was worried sick. How is old Daisy?”
“I don’t even know. But she hasn’t changed a bit. Still stubborn and contrary, but Rose flat out refuses to let me sell that cow. Says my dad loved old Daisy and she’s part of my heritage.”
“Kindred spirits,” Annie said, laughing.
“You mean Rose and Dad, or Daisy and Rose?”
“I don’t think I should answer that.”
Will took a deep breath of Oklahoma air and pushed the wind from his lungs. “End of May is about the best time of year, don’t you think?”
Annie nodded.
“We’ll be complaining about the heat and humidity soon enough, but now…warm days. Cool nights. This has been an especially kind spring, too. The grass will stay green well into summer after all the rain we’ve had.”
“I don’t think I’m even going to notice the humidity here after living in Kenya.”
He’d driven the Jeep in a large circle around the ranch and as they pulled close to the rear of the house, Annie waved for him to stop.
“Oh, my goodness. What happened to Rose’s garden?”
“We moved the garden over by the pond. There’s a gazebo there now, too.”
“Then what’s that?” She pointed to a large area surrounded by a white picket fence. Inside, the dark red clay had obviously been tilled and fertilized. Neat rows of small plants were staked as far as her eye could see.
“Pumpkin patch.”
“The world’s largest pumpkin patch?”
“Pretty much. Can’t you see it in the fall, with kids all over the place picking out pumpkins?”
“Yes. I can.” She scrutinized the area, then spoke again. “What about pony rides and a small animal-petting zoo? You know, calves and lambs. A donkey. You could probably get the animal shelter to bring out puppies and kittens for adoption. Make it a yearly event.”
“Now why didn’t I think of that?”
As she waved a hand to gesture with increased enthusiasm, Will could almost see the ideas percolating under that ball cap on her head.
“Add bales of hay and a few scarecrows to give it a real harvest theme. Why, I bet you could sell Sullivan peaches and pecans and Rose’s pies, too.”
Will snapped his fingers. “You’re a genius, Annie.”
“I have my moments.”
“Let me know if you have any more.”
Annie laughed at his words.
He glanced over at the stable. “I haven’t even shown you the horses yet, have I?”
She hesitated. “No. But have you checked the time? You’ve got that fundraiser at seven.”
Disappointment slid over him as he confirmed her words with a quick look at his watch. He’d much rather be riding around the ranch with Annie than playing nice at the Reillys’ party.
Will stuck a finger into the collar of his dress shirt, searching for breathing room. Giving up, he unbuttoned the top button and loosened the noose.
Why was he here? Then he remembered. Networking.
He sipped a tall, chilled glass of sweet tea and watched Margaret Reilly flit around the great room of the Reilly home. A butterfly in a pink suit, she checked on each and every one of her guests. Detailed instructions were given to the caterers before she floated across the pristine white carpet to light next to him.
“You aren’t eating?” she said.
“Not real hungry,” Will admitted, eyeing the buffet table.
Long tables were covered with pink linens and centerpieces of fresh spring flowers, all coordinating perfectly with the hostess’s ensemble. Serving platters were laden with delicacies Will hadn’t attempted to identify. Fact was he wasn’t much into fancy food. A plain meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, he preferred a good steak every time.
He knew he was out of his league here among the Tulsa religious elite gathered for the fundraiser. A simple rancher, he was trying to become a savvy businessman, but small talk was not his forte.
If he had his way he’d never leave the ranch. Will had majored in business, while commuting between Granby and home, but he couldn’t grab his degree and get back to the ranch fast enough. He had no aspirations of grandeur beyond keeping Sullivan Ranch afloat and contributing to a community that supported him through the tough times.
He loved the land, liked hard work and enjoyed getting dirty.
Dressing up made him uncomfortable, and today he’d put on a suit and tie and Sunday shoes—twice. His feet longed for the comfort of his worn Justins.
Gaze drifting, he observed the uniformed staff through the French doors. The Reillys sure could throw a party. Things would move outside anytime now. The buffet dinner and social time were to be followed by a silent auction on the grounds.
Waiters made last-minute preparations for seating along the huge patio area, near the heated pool where sparkly frosted lights hung between huge maple trees. An impromptu stage covered by a white canvas tent had been erected on the lawn. A small ensemble played classical melodies in the background. At the end of the patio another long serving table boasted lavish dessert trays and silver coffee urns.
“I can ask Chef to prepare something for you,” Margaret offered.
“I’m sorry?” Will said, realizing he’d been miles away.
“I said I’d be happy to ask Chef to prepare something for you.”
He gave a small laugh. Was he that transparent? He felt certain he stuck out as a real greenhorn in