Christmas with the Rancher: The Rancher / Christmas Cowboy / A Man of Means

“Those little fairies she makes are amazing,” he commented, lounging against the counter.

Sadie smiled at him. “They really are. I don’t know how she does all that tiny detailed work without going blind. The little faces are so realistic. She has a gift.”

“She does. I wish she’d do something with it.”

“Me, too,” Sadie replied. “But she doesn’t want to sell her babies, as she calls them.”

“She’s sitting on a gold mine here.” Cort sighed. “You know, breeding herd sires is hard work, even for people who’ve done it for generations and love it.”

She glanced at him and she looked worried. “I know. She doesn’t really want to do it. My nephew had to toss her in at the deep end when he knew his cancer was fatal.” She shook her head. “I hate it for her. You shouldn’t be locked into a job you don’t want to do. But she’s had no training. She really can’t do anything else.”

“She can paint. And she can sculpt.”

“Yes, but there’s still the ranch,” Sadie emphasized.

“Any problem has a solution. It’s just a question of finding it.” He sighed. “Ben said you’d had another cow go missing.”

“Yes.” She frowned. “Odd thing, too, she was in a pasture with several other cows, all of them healthier than her. I can’t think somebody would steal her.”

“I know what you mean. They do wander off. It’s just that it looks suspicious, having two go missing in the same month.”

“Could it be that developer man?”

Cort shook his head. “I wouldn’t think so. We’ve got armed patrols and cameras mounted everywhere. If anything like that was going on, we’d see it.”

“I suppose so.”

There was the clatter of footsteps almost leaping down the staircase.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Maddie said, breathless. She was wearing jeans and boots and a pretty pink button-up blouse. She looked radiant.

“Where are you off to?” Sadie asked, laughing.

“I’m going to Jacobsville with Cort to look at livestock.”

“Oh.” Sadie forced a smile. “Well, have fun, then.”

Cort started the sleek two-seater Jaguar. He glanced at Maddie, who was looking at everything with utter fascination.

“Not quite like your little Volkswagen, huh?” he teased.

“No! It’s like a spaceship or something.”

“Watch this.”

As he started the car, the air vents suddenly opened up and the Jaguar symbol lit up on a touch screen between the steering wheel and the glove compartment. At the same time, the gearshift rose up from the console, where it had been lying flat.

“Oh, gosh!” she exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”

He chuckled. “I like high-tech gadgets.”

“John has one of these,” she recalled.

His eyes narrowed. “So he does. I rode him around in mine and he found a dealership the next day. His is more sedate.”

“I just think they’re incredible.”

He smiled. “Fasten your seat belt.”

“Oops, sorry, wasn’t thinking.” She reached up and drew it between her breasts, to fasten it beside her hip.

“I always wear my seat belt,” he said. “Dad refused to drive the car until we were all strapped in. He was in a wreck once. He said he never forgot that he’d be dead except for the seat belt.”

“My dad wasn’t in a wreck, but he was always careful about them, too.” She put her strappy purse on the floorboard. “Did Odalie come home?” she asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“Not yet,” he said. He had to hide a smile, because the question lacked any subtlety.

“Oh.”

He was beginning to realize that Odalie had been a major infatuation for him. Someone unreachable that he’d dreamed about, much as young boys dreamed about movie stars. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he and Odalie were as different as night and day. She wanted an operatic career and wasn’t interested in fitting him into that picture. Would he be forever hanging around opera houses where she performed, carrying bags and organizing fans? Or would he be in Texas, waiting for her rare visits? She couldn’t have a family and be a performer, not in the early stages of her career, maybe never. Cort wanted a family. He wanted children.

Funny, he’d never thought of himself as a parent before. But when he’d listened to Maddie talk about her little fairy sculptures and spoke of them as her children, he’d pictured her with a baby in her arms. It had shocked him how much he wanted to see that for real.

“You like kids, don’t you?” he asked suddenly.

“What brought that on?” She laughed.

“What you said, about your little fairy sculptures. They’re beautiful kids.”

“Thanks.” She looked out the window at the dry, parched grasslands they were passing through. “Yes, I love kids. Oh, Cort, look at the poor corn crops! That’s old Mr. Raines’s land, isn’t it?” she added. “He’s already holding on to his place by his fingernails I guess he’ll have to sell if it doesn’t rain.”

“My sister said they’re having the same issues up in Wyoming.” He glanced at her. “Her husband knows a medicine man from one of the plains tribes. She said that he actually did make it rain a few times. Nobody understands how, and most people think it’s fake, but I wonder.”

“Ben was talking about a Cheyenne medicine man who can make rain. He’s friends with him. I’ve known people who could douse for water,” she said.

“Now, there’s a rare talent indeed,” he commented. He pursed his lips. “Can’t Ben do that?”

“Shh,” she said, laughing. “He doesn’t want people to think he’s odd, so he doesn’t want us to tell anybody.”

“Still, you might ask him to go see if he could find water. If he does, we could send a well-borer over to do the job for him.”

She looked at him with new eyes. “That’s really nice of you.”

He shrugged. “I’m nice enough. From time to time.” He glanced at her pointedly. “When women aren’t driving me to drink.”

“What? I didn’t drive you to drink!”

“The hell you didn’t,” he mused, his eyes on the road so that he missed her blush. “Dancing with John Everett. Fancy dancing. Latin dancing.” He sighed. “I can’t even do a waltz.”