Marrying The Rancher

She handed Scotty a piece of toast to go with his cereal and broke off a corner of a second slice for herself.

“Steer clear of Hicks,” the old man warned. “He led the association to band together against Wyatt when he and his team released the wolves. Somebody, and your pa thought it was Pres, laid a dead wolf on the hood of Wyatt’s vehicle as a threat. He and others on his team got phone threats, too. But the government agency in charge of the wolf program sent out a letter saying whoever did it could be prosecuted.”

“I wish I’d known all of that before I agreed to rent to Mr. Hunt. New as I am, I don’t need to be the source of grief to neighbors. I also don’t like being stuck in the middle of a turf war over wolf repatriation.”

“Your pa favored the program. He told Hunt to ignore Preston’s bluster. Best you avoid them if you can, Tandy.”

“I know Dad liked Mr. Hunt a lot. I promise not to go out of my way to engage Hicks. But I won’t cower, either. You take care of your arthritis. If you need groceries or anything from town, I hope to make a run to the feed store tomorrow or the next day.”

“I’m good, but thanks. With luck I’ll be back in the saddle tomorrow.”

She ended their call, sighed and put away her phone.

“What’s wrong?” Scotty asked.

“Manny can’t ride with us today. He has an illness called arthritis that causes him pain in his knees, elbows and fingers. He believes he’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“I heard that. He talks really loud. But what did he say about a dead wolf? How did one die, Mama?”

“It’s nothing for us to worry about. It didn’t happen recently.”

“You sounded worried. Is it ’cause that bad man said don’t rent to the wolf man?”

“Honey, he was making noise. I don’t want you to be concerned. Please call him Mr. Hunt. If you’re finished with your cereal, rinse the bowl then go get dressed. You can watch TV while I fix something in advance for supper. We’ll let the fog lift before we go feed cattle.”

Scotty slipped off his chair and carried his bowl to the sink. “Can we have pa’sketti?”

“Spaghetti.” Tandy stressed the correct pronunciation.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Laughing, Tandy tweaked his cowlick. “I can make that. Outside of pizza I know it’s your most favorite food.”

“Yup. If the wolf man, uh, Mr. Hunt, comes today like the bad man said, he can eat supper with us and tell us all about the wolves.”

“No, Scotty. He’s only renting one of our casitas. He will cook his own meals. I doubt we’ll see much of him at all. I hope anyway,” she added under her breath.

“Aww, I wanna see his baby wolves.”

“Forget that. We want all wolves to stay far away from the ranch.”

“Me and Mr. Bones could take care of a baby wolf, dontcha think?”

“Not a good plan.” Tandy shooed him and the hound out of the kitchen.

* * *

SOME TWELVE HOURS after they’d had their morning discussion and rehashed it several times, Tandy and Scotty rode back to the barn. It’d been a hard day because the fog hadn’t lifted until midafternoon and hung in the deeper arroyos where she’d needed to check on cows and fill water troughs. Scotty had driven her crazy by constantly riding his mule off into underbrush, claiming to be searching for wolf cubs.

Unsaddling Butterscotch, and then Patch, she wondered what had made her think she could chase a herd of Santa Gertrudis cattle over an inhospitable landscape, take care of a house, and maybe homeschool her almost-six-year-old son in the fall when he began first grade. Maybe because her mother had done the same until Tandy started third grade.

“Hurry, Mama. I’m starved and so is Mr. Bones.” Scotty called to her from the fading light outside the barn door.

“I’m coming. But you’re going to have to give me time to fix garlic bread and a salad while the spaghetti heats through.”

Scotty skipped ahead with his pet. Tandy lagged behind. She’d assumed all the patrols she’d led over rough terrain in Afghanistan would have prepared her to chase after and feed a few hundred cows. Obviously not. She was exhausted.

“Honey, why don’t you build something with your Legos while supper warms? I’ll bring Manny his plate first. I hope he’s not feeling worse, now that the fog has settled again.”

Scotty stopped at the front door and glanced around. “It’s almost dark and the wolf man hasn’t come. Do you think that bad guy from last night shot him?”

“Scotty!” Tandy gasped his name as she reached around him and turned on the interior lights. “Area ranchers may not want him here, but no one would go that far.”

“They might,” he said, trudging down the hall. “Didn’t you see? The bad man had a gun.”

She hadn’t noticed. She worried that Scotty had heard too much violent war-talk, living with an uncle in the navy, as well as his dad and herself.

She headed to the kitchen and in about forty minutes the meal was ready. But she hadn’t taken time to clean up. She still felt grungy from a full day of herding strays out of canyons. Oh, well, she’d shower before bed.

“Scotty, come eat. The garlic bread is due out in a minute.”

She heard him leave his room just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll answer the door, Mama.”

“Okay. It’s probably Manny. Tell him I’ll fix that plate, or better, he should come eat with us.” She tore off a piece of foil to cover the dish if he didn’t elect to stay. He’d said often the hired help shouldn’t eat with the boss. Silly as it sounded to her, apparently he’d been that way until her father got sick and needed assistance preparing his meals.

The oven timer dinged. She slipped on oven mitts to remove the casserole dish and the hot bread.

From the other room a male voice she didn’t recognize said, “Hi there, young man. I’m here to pick up a key to one of the casitas from Ms. Graham. Is that your mother?”

“Are you the wolf man?” Scotty exclaimed, his tone filled with awe. “Mama’s in the kitchen putting pa’sketti on the table. It’s super yummy. Come on in and eat with us.”

Tandy almost dropped the bread. In the middle of finding a place to set the hot item she heard the man laugh. It was a deep rumble that reminded her of how disheveled she looked. Her free hand flew to smooth down her hair. Not wanting her first meeting with her renter to put her at a disadvantage for wearing grubby jeans and a sauce-spattered work shirt, she called to Scotty. “His house key is on the end table beside the lamp.”

Before she could add that the casita was stocked and ready, she heard their new tenant saying how the food certainly smelled good.

Considering the lateness of the hour, the poor man had probably been traveling through the fog instead of stopping to eat. Having a change of heart for someone who’d been a friend to her dad, she stepped to the arch and almost fell over Mr. Bones. “Scotty, show him where to wash up. I’ll set another plate.”

Tandy rushed back and set out another place setting. She was tearing off extra paper towel for napkins when her son, jabbering a mile a minute, dragged their guest into the kitchen. Glancing up, a welcoming smile froze on her lips, and the paper towel fluttered from her hand. She and the newcomer both grabbed for it, causing their hands to connect. The strength in his fingers sent shock waves rippling up Tandy’s arm. She quickly withdrew, leaving him to catch the towel before it hit the floor.

Wyatt Hunt was nothing like she’d presumed. For one thing, he was a lot younger. And gosh, he was tall. Over six feet, she judged. Wide shouldered and narrow hipped, he wore cowboy garb as if it’d been tailor-made to fit his muscular frame. His dark blond hair showed a stubborn curl. When he smiled down at Scotty, a dimple flashed in his left cheek.

His good looks sent Tandy’s heart thudding like a jungle drum. She felt even more rattled when considering again how crappy she must look.

But the unexpected weakness that attacked her knees annoyed her. Good grief, she’d worked with, and had outranked, more handsome men than him. What was wrong with her? “Sorry to stare, but I’d assumed from conversations with Dad that you were his age,” she blurted even as her son urged the man to sit in the chair beside him. “He never actually mentioned your age during our phone calls, but it was an impression he gave in how he talked about views you two shared.”

“Curt and I hit it off, but he was what...sixtyish? Twice my age. Is this where you’d like me to sit?” he asked Tandy, pointing to the chair Scotty kept urging him toward. “Are you sure I’m not putting you out?”