Courageous

“She will, if I have to have the vet come out here and sit with her all night and pay him.”

She laughed. “Dr. Bentley Rydel would do it for free. He loves animals.”

“Good thing. His brother-in-law sure is one. An animal, I mean.”

“You really have it in for mercenaries, don’t you?” she asked, curious.

“Not all of them,” he replied. “Eb Scott’s bunch is a notch above the rest. But Kell Drake, Rydel’s brother-in-law, was a career military man and he threw it all up to go off searching for adventure in, of all places, Africa!”

“Is Africa worse than South America?” she asked, making a point.

“Much worse, because you have so damned many factions trying to get a foothold there,” he replied. “Most of the aid that’s sent never reaches the starving masses, it goes to sale for the highest bidder and the money goes in some warlord’s pocket.” He shook his head. “Guns don’t really solve problems, you know. But neither does diplomacy when you have two religions slugging it out in the same region, plus class warfare, tribal conflicts, greedy corporations …”

“Is there anybody you like?” she asked pointedly.

“George Patton.”

She laughed, remembering her father had mentioned the name. “Who’s he?”

His eyes almost popped.

“Well, I’m young,” she muttered. “You can’t expect me to know everything.”

He drew in a long breath. She was. Very young. It made him uncomfortable. “He was a famous general in World War II. He served in several theaters of operations for the Allies, predominantly the North African and European campaigns.”

“Oh, that Patton!” she exclaimed. “My dad was telling me about a German general named Rommel in North Africa. Then there was this movie I watched … did Patton really do those things?”

He chuckled. “Some of them. I went through West Point with a distant cousin of his.”

“Neat!”

He finished the coffee. “You should go back in. It’s getting cold.”

She took the cup from his outstretched hand. “It is.”

“Thanks for the coffee.”

She shrugged. “Welcome.” She glanced at the heifer, who was staring at them with wide brown eyes. “I hope Bossie does okay.”

He smiled. “Me, too. Thanks.”

She nodded, smiled and left him there.

The next morning, the veterinarian’s truck was sitting at the barn. Before she even started breakfast, Peg ran out the back door and down to the barn. She’d worried about the mother cow all night.

Grange was leaning against a post, talking to the vet. They both turned when she walked in.

“Well?” she asked a little hesitantly, because she was concerned.

Grange smiled. “Bull calf. Mother and baby doing fine.”

She let out a sigh. “Thank goodness!”

Grange grinned at her obvious relief.

“If you’d like to stay for breakfast,” she told the vet, “I’m making biscuits and fresh sausage and eggs. We have hens and he—” she pointed at Grange “—bought us a freezer full of pork sausage and ribs and loins.” She grinned. “We’re rich!”

They both laughed.

“You’re very welcome to stay,” Grange told him. “She cooks plenty. And she’s a good cook.”

Peg blushed. Her eyes sparkled. “Nice to be appreciated.”

“In that case, I’d love to join you, thanks.”

“I’ll get busy.” She ran all the way back to the house. Grange liked her cooking. She could have floated.

2

“What’s your brother-in-law up to these days?” Grange asked their guest.

He got a droll look in reply. “Kell Drake always changes the subject when I ask. But he and one of his cronies were reportedly up to their ears in some project in South Africa that involves guns. I don’t bother to ask,” Bentley Rydel added when Grange started another question. “It’s a waste of breath. He was working on something with Rourke, but I hear he’s going overseas with you,” he added with a pointed look.

“Rourke,” Grange sighed, shaking his head. “Now there’s a piece of work.”

“Who’s Rourke?” Peg wanted to know.

“Somebody you don’t even need to meet,” Grange told her firmly. “He’s a …”

“Please.” Bentley held up his hand, chuckling. “There’s a lady present.”

“You’re right,” Grange agreed, sipping coffee, with a smile in Peg’s direction.

Peg laughed.

“Well, Rourke’s in a class all his own,” Grange continued. “Even our police chief in Jacobsville, Cash Grier, avoids him, and Grier’s worked with some scoundrels in his time. Word is,” he added, “that Kilraven, who used to work for some federal agency undercover in Grier’s department, almost came to blows with Rourke over the woman he married.”

“A ladies’ man, is he?” Ed asked.

“Hard to say,” Grange replied. “He thinks he is.”

“He’s definitely got the connections,” Bentley mused. “Rumor has it that he’s the illegitimate son of billionaire K.C. Kantor, who was once at the forefront of most conflicts in the African states.”

“I’ve read about him,” Ed replied. “A fascinating man.”

“He never married. They say he was in love with a woman who became a nun. He has a godchild who married into a rich Wyoming ranching family.”

“Well!” Ed exclaimed. “The things you learn about people!”