Rancher's Son Page 13

  The day Ty had marched Chris and Tim into her office, she hadn’t understood his attitude. But day by day, he had chipped away at her initial impressions. She hadn’t pegged him for the kind of guy who would notice, much less care about, her flowers. And yet, he did. She’d watched his relationship with Jimmy blossom. Their growing closeness raised her hopes that, by the time the cattle drive ended, he’d acknowledge the boy as his own.

  And where will that leave me?

  Sarah flinched. Sure, she’d have a hard time parting with the child when the time came. But that didn’t account for the ache that spread across her chest when she thought of never seeing Ty again. Seconds later, she acknowledged a painful truth. She wasn’t sure she wanted a future without both of them—the rancher and the boy—in her life. She drew a deep breath, trying to find her balance and missing it entirely.

  She was still pondering how to handle her newfound feelings for Ty when he reined his horse to her side. “Where’d you find that cow?”

  She frowned. The hands that had once whisked her away from danger held Ranger’s reins in a stiff grip. The lips she’d considered kissing were set in an angry sneer. She realized that she might have once more misjudged Ty.

  Sarah pointed over her shoulder. “She stepped, pretty as you please, out from behind a bush.”

  Ty whipped his hat from his head and slapped it against his leg. “Damn. I guess Ol’ Man Tompkins was right after all. His cows have found a way onto my property. Which means, mine have probably found a way onto his.”

  Beneath the broad-brimmed hat Ty had insisted she wear to keep the sun off her face, Sarah blinked in confusion. “And that’s a problem?”

  “I’ll say. I’ll have to have the men check every inch of fence line between our two ranches to make sure this never happens again.”

  Sarah gave her surroundings a good look. As far as she could tell, there wasn’t any difference between the grazing land and palmettos on either side of the tightly stretched barbed-wire fence.

  “What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours?” she asked hesitantly.

  “That’s only part of it. Tompkins’s cattle—” he pointed to the cow Sarah had found “—they’re Brahmans. I raise Andalusians. Tompkins and I don’t see eye-to-eye on the best breeds, but there’s one thing we do agree on. Mixing Brahmans and Andalusians, well, that just isn’t right.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. Okay, so hers had a hump and its horns twisted a little differently, but a cow was a cow, wasn’t it? “Does it really make such a difference?”

  For a second, a scathing look was Ty’s only answer. Leather creaked. Sarah shifted uneasily. She waited while he uncoiled the rope tied to his saddle.

  “There’s good money in pure-bred cattle.” Ty deftly threw a loop over the cow’s wattled neck. “Think of those fancy dog shows. You have a champion black Lab and a champion chow. You mate them to dogs with the same pedigree, people pay big money for the whelps. But you let that black Lab mate with that chow, and you end up with a mutt that’s good for nothin’.”

  “So a Brahman cow on your side of the fence, that’s a bad thing.” Sarah nodded. Now that he’d explained it, his reasoning made sense. “I guess I still have a lot to learn about ranching. In some ways, it’s probably easier to deal with people. Don’t get me started on their problems, but at least their pedigree doesn’t matter.”

  Her comment generated a few alarm bells when Ty frowned. Hating herself for even asking, Sarah ventured the question she couldn’t ignore. “Are you telling me that if Jimmy isn’t your biological son…”

  Exasperation showed in the firm line of lips she’d considered kissable.

  “If he’s not my blood, then I can’t very well claim him as my son, can I?”

  Ty clamped his hat onto his head. He tugged it until it shadowed his eyes.

  “The trail follows the fence line. We’ll probably spot Tompkins somewhere along the way,” he said, his voice brusque. “We’ll return his cow when we see him. For now, keep her away from the rest of my herd.”

  Sarah caught the end of the rope Ty flipped toward her without so much as a glance in her direction. And with that, he peeled off and started issuing orders to a couple of the hands, leaving her to stare after him.

  How had she been so blind?

  She’d assumed that once Ty got to know Jimmy well enough, once the little boy had wormed his way into the big rancher’s heart, he wouldn’t be able to part with the kid any more than she could. Now that she knew the truth, she felt a shiver of fear for the child’s future.

  * * *

  TY SPENT THE NEXT HALF HOUR issuing tight-lipped orders that would guarantee every inch of the ranch’s fence line was checked and double-checked before the herd pulled into Kissimmee. By the time he finished and had spoken with every rider and guest, the morning had evaporated much the same way as the fog that had rolled off the lakes the night before. He wished his anger had disappeared, as well, but there was no use denying he was on edge.

  The reason trailed behind the rest of the herd.

  As much as possible, Ty avoided looking over his shoulder at Sarah and the cow she’d so proudly corralled. Only a greenhorn could overlook the obvious. The Brahman was nearly ready to calve. And that little fact was bound to cause another ripple in his already tense relations with Tompkins. The owner of the adjoining ranch had never ascribed to a live-and-let-live philosophy. Eager to expand his holdings, he’d seen his chance slip through his greedy fingers when Ty took over the Circle P. Therein lay the crux of a thorny problem. If things didn’t go well with Tompkins, the man was apt to do something stupid. Knowing Sarah would be there to see it happen, Ty whispered a curse.

  When Ranger’s gait stiffened, he realized the horse had picked up on his emotions. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Steady now,” he said low and easy.

  Despite his best efforts, his gaze strayed toward Sarah. An image of her riding alongside him across the wide-open ranchland took shape. He shook his head, trying to dislodge it. The woman was only visiting the Circle P. And that was a good thing. A very good thing. The curvy redhead had a soft spot for every cur that came her way. If she called the ranch home, they’d have a pack of mongrel dogs running around the place in no time.

  Not that it was likely Sarah would abandon the city for life on a ranch. Other than their almost-kiss the day she’d run into the rattlesnake, she hadn’t shown much interest in him. Yet, he couldn’t deny he was attracted to the saucy social worker.

  Up ahead, light glinted, harsh and bright off the hood of an ancient pickup truck, a sure sign Tompkins was in the vicinity. Though the outcome of talking to the man was apt to ruin what was left of his day, Ty signaled Sarah. He led the way to the property line where several downed fence posts trailed barbed wire loosely across the ground.

  “Afternoon,” Ty said, doffing his hat. “I see you’re doing a little repair work.”

  Tompkins plunged a post-hole digger into the ground before he looked up. Rather than extracting the twin shovels of dirt, he leaned against the handle. “Looks like your blame fool cows knocked down a stretch of my fence again.”

  Ty gave the area in question a quick study. The posts and wire were a tangled mess, but they leaned away from Tompkins’s property onto his. He folded his hands across his saddle’s pommel.

  “Looks to me like those posts were pushed over from your side. I’d be glad to have some of the men lend you a hand in making things
right.”

  “Reckon I’m not too old to string fence.” Tompkins rubbed a bandana beneath his sweat-stained hat. “Bit early for your summer roundup, isn’t it? You sellin’ off more of your herd to make ends meet?”

  “Hate to disappoint you, but no.” Ty grimaced. After his dad died, he’d come closer to having the ranch sold out from under him than he liked to admit. Turning the annual drive into a tourist attraction had saved him from bankruptcy. Now, more than a thousand Andalusians grazed on Circle P land and, if the Garrisons suggestion about birding tours held true, he was on his way to making some real money.

  “So, you’re on your way to Kissimmee?”

  “Mr. Tompkins, this here’s Sarah Magarity.” Ty twitched a thumb in her direction. “She found one of your cows this morning. Thought we might as well deliver it to you as long as we were going past.”

  Ty rounded Sarah’s horse and took the rope from her. The old man’s face clouded over when the cow, which had lagged several yards behind Belle, stepped into view.

  “Shee-it.” Tompkins spit and a dark brown stream hit the ground at his feet. “Let me get my 30-30.” He spun toward a truck loaded with fence posts and bailing wire.

  Ty’s glance took in Sarah’s puzzled look. She hadn’t figured it out, but she would soon enough.

  “You might want to head back to Seth and the rest of the crew,” he said, trying to shield her.

  “No, that’s okay, I—”

  Reality dawned in her pretty eyes, alarm darkening their depths when Tompkins reached into the gun rack mounted behind the driver’s seat of his pickup. Carrying the rifle in the crook of one elbow, he retraced his steps.

  Metal jangled. Belle’s heavy hooves brought Sarah even with Ranger.

  “He’s not planning on doing what I think he is?” she asked, breathless.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Her eyes widened. “But why? Is there something wrong with the cow? Is she sick?”

  “Not exactly.” Ty gestured toward the Brahman’s wide gray sides. “She’s pregnant. Since she was found on Parker land, there’s no tellin’ whose bull did the deed.”

  Sarah’s hands tightened into fists. She crossed her arms firmly below her ample chest. “You can’t let him kill her.”

  Ty fought the urge to groan. Hadn’t she been listening to a word he’d said earlier? Cattle weren’t pets; they were livestock. “Purity of the bloodline is more important than the life of one cow. Tompkins can’t have a half breed roaming around on his property any more than I can.”

  Tears filled Sarah’s eyes. Seeing them twisted something in Ty’s gut. He longed to put his arm around her, ease her pain, but what Tompkins did with his own property was up to him.

  The older man slipped Ty’s noose over the cow’s head and handed the rope back to him with a “Much obliged” that was anything but. “Go on now, gal,” he called.

  The Brahman moseyed forward like she had all the time in the world, but when she reached the strands of new barbed wire stretched along the ground, she balked. Tompkins slapped her on the rump. “Git across now.”

  “Stop. I’ll take her.”

  Ty swung toward Sarah. “Now, wait a minute,” he began. His focus dropped to her quivering lower lip and he promptly lost track of whatever else he’d been about to say.

  “I’ll take her,” Sarah repeated.

  Tompkins whirled around, his gaze turning from surprised to crafty in less time than it took to swat a fly. “You want to buy her?”

  “Sure,” Sarah shrugged. “How much?”

  “Fifteen hundred.”

  Ty cleared his throat. The cow was getting on in years. This would probably be her last calving season. He started to tell Sarah she was being played but saved his breath. She’d already figured that much out on her own.

  “Ridiculous,” she huffed. “You were just getting ready to put the cow down. You wouldn’t have gotten a red cent for her if you had.”

  Tompkins’s jaw came up. “Well, I might have been a bit hasty. I’d have come to my senses. Sold her for meat.” He paused a long moment before adding, “Her and the calf.”

  Though the man was deliberately baiting Sarah, she rocked back in her saddle, looking for all the world like someone who bought and sold cattle every day of her life.

  “How much,” she demanded. She leaned forward, her eyes glowering, her face flushed. “And this time, give me a real price.”

  “Five hundred.”

  “I’ll give you fifty,” Sarah countered.

  “You drive a hard bargain, missy,” Tompkins said through a glimmer of a smile. “Okay, fifty for the cow. The calf, now that’s another story. If it’s a Brahman, I’m going to want it back.”

  For the first time since she’d made the ridiculous offer, Sarah turned to face him.

  Staring at the pretty redhead, Ty gulped. The desire to give her whatever she wanted stirred within him. No dropped right out of his vocabulary.

  “All right,” he said. He swung back to eyeball Tompkins. “Long as you pay for the blood tests.”

  “Agreed,” the old man said.

  Ty managed not to groan as he looped the halter over the pregnant cow. Feed and veterinary bills for an animal that wasn’t even his, one that was sure to cause more complications than he wanted to handle, would eat into his savings. He should be angry, he told himself. But the happy glow in Sarah’s eyes was worth the cost.

  Chapter Nine

  “I’m going to call her Lacy,” Jimmy announced. “’Cause her neck is all wiggly.” He thrust a handful of grass through the slats of the pen Ty’s staff had erected on the outskirts of camp.

  “That’s a good name,” Sarah said, eyeing the ruffled folds of the cow’s heavy dewlap. Her gaze swung to the boy who was intent on turning “Lacy” into a pet. “But you know we can’t keep her,” she cautioned.

  “Why not?”

  At the innocent question, her hand fisted. Slowly, she splayed her fingers. The pros and cons of letting the boy make friends with the rescued cow had played teeter-totter on her shoulders ever since they arrived at camp this evening. Another loss was the last thing Jimmy needed in his life. On the other hand, she didn’t want the boy to wall himself off from new friends, new experiences.

  “She’s too big to sleep in your room,” she teased.

  Jimmy’s forlorn look settled on the cow, which stood placidly chewing its cud on the far side of the pen. “She’s lonely out here all by herself.”

  “Oh, I think she likes it. Some of the other cows can be pushy. They might not let her eat as much grass as she wants.” Sarah gestured to the roomy area Ty had set aside for his latest acquisition after insisting the Brahman could not mingle with his recently inspected herd. “Here she has a whole pen just to herself. It’s kind of like having your own bedroom.”

  “At my old house, we all lived in one room,” Jimmy stated simply.

  “Oh, yeah?” This was one of the first times the boy had opened up about his life in New York, and Sarah tried to picture the kind of place a struggling actress and waitress might be able to afford in a city known for its high cost of living. “Where did everybody sleep?”

  “Miss Candy’s bed was magic.” Awe edged Jimmy’s voice. “She made it disappear into the wall.”

  “She did?” A Murphy bed, Sarah thought. She’d never seen one, but it would be perfect for a tiny apartment.

  “Not every day,” he said, turning defensive. “But it did
sometimes.”

  She hadn’t meant to sound as if she doubted the boy and hurried to move the conversation forward. “And you? Did you have a magic bed, too?”

  “No.” Jimmy shook his head. “My mom and me slept in the corner. Our bed was on the floor. Her end was at the top. Mine was at the bottom. Sometimes it’d get cold and she’d let me sleep beside her.” The little boy’s hand dropped to his side. His fingers opened and the grass he’d been holding fell. He peered up, his eyes pinned on Sarah. “I miss my mom. She’s been gone a long time. When’s she coming home?”

  Sarah slipped an arm around the boy’s shoulders and hugged him close. “Oh, honey,” she said softly. “I know she’d be with you if she could.” His loss touched her heart, prompting a split-second decision to ignore DCF’s mandate against any talk of religion. “She’s watching out for you from heaven.”

  Jimmy peered owlishly at the darkening sky where the first stars of the night twinkled. “How come I can’t see her?”

  “She’s too far away, honey.”

  “I wish she was here with me.”

  The sad little-boy sigh tore another hole in Sarah’s heart.

  He thought for a moment. “Maybe I can go be with her there?”

  Sarah blinked rapidly to keep her own tears at bay. “Not for a long, long time. But you can talk to her every night when you say your prayers.” Jimmy had knelt on the floor and said his Now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleeps every night since Candy had dropped him off.

  Jimmy silently considered this piece of information. “Okay,” he said with a yawn.

  She encouraged him to say good-night to Lacy. As he sprinkled a final handful of grass into the pen, the boy’s head sagged. It was no wonder the little tyke was tired, Sarah thought. After a day on the trail, her own muscles cried out for a long soak in a hot tub. She settled for the feel of tiny fingers in hers as they walked back to the new campsite where, instead of one large bunkhouse, ten small cabins had been erected in a semicircle around an open fire pit.