His Ranch Or Hers

“No.”

“Look, I was teasing about the pig. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Zeke poured their coffee and returned the pot to the burner.

She dropped her utensils and picked up her cup. But when their eyes met over the rim, Myra hurriedly averted her gaze. “Nothing to do with the Flying Owl is a joke.”

He gestured with his cup. “I...ah...don’t know a lot about cattle ranching.”

“No kidding.”

Leaning back, Zeke studied her, his expression pensive. “It strikes me you weren’t prepared to have me show up today to take over.”

Her eyes flashed. “Take over? Listen, you fixed a great meal. I want to enjoy it.”

“No problem.” He took a second helping. “I’m just getting way different vibes from you than I got from your family. Your mom went on and on about how anxious you are to get back to teaching in the city.”

Myra took more green beans, knowing she was being uncharacteristically surly. “My parents think I should be anxious. Especially Mom.” She couldn’t seem to stop resenting Zeke. But soon the only noise in the kitchen was the ticktock of the old wall clock and Orion rooting in his dish.

Zeke drained his cup and got up for more coffee. Retaking his seat, he said, “Is it safe to ask you about the ranch finances? I don’t want to cast aspersions on your dad, because he and your mother treated me really well. But did he give me an albatross? I can see the house needs work, but my brother said the land must be worth a lot.”

Myra’s heart gave a kick. She hunched forward. Had he given her an opening to lay it on thick and convince him the ranch was a dud? She couldn’t lie. It wasn’t in her. She took her time before looking him in the eye. “To my dad, who left here at twenty-five when he got married and began to build his own spread on a ranch that belonged to my mom’s parents, this has always been the old home place. As Gramps aged, he set up a trust with my dad, his only child. Were you insinuating you might want to sell?” Trying for casual, Myra took a drink.

When Zeke continued his silent regard of her, she gestured with her free hand. “I’d be willing to go to the bank and see what they’d allow me for a loan to buy you out.”

“You? I thought you couldn’t wait to get back to your teaching career.”

She shrugged lightly, not wanting to give away how badly she wanted to own this ranch. “Having lived here three and a half years, I’ve discovered I have a knack for ranching. It’s probably too late to get a teaching spot. Schools start soon.”

“I wasn’t thinking of selling. But if not teaching, what will you do?”

Myra shrugged again. “Maybe one of the bigger ranches needs a cowhand.”

Zeke toyed with his cup, then grinned. “On my drive here, on the other side of a town called Miles City, I saw a sign on a fence post. At the time it made me laugh. ‘Housekeeper wanted. Must be able to drive a tractor and work cattle.’ Maybe you’d do.”

She got up and started gathering their dirty dishes.

“So, no comment?”

“Miles City isn’t Snowy Owl Crossing. And I’d be leery of a job with that description. The term housekeeper could entail more side activities than I’d care to take on.”

“Like what? Oh...oh! I get you.” He blushed. “I’m not usually that slow on the uptake.”

It was her turn to stammer in embarrassment. “Uh, I actually meant it might mean the rancher also needed a nanny to take care of his kids.”

“Yikes! Are you kidding me?”

“No. At the grange hall it’s not uncommon to hear of some cowboy-rancher’s wife he met on the rodeo circuit finding ranch life not so glamorous after they have a couple of kids.”

“It does seem life out here might be lonely. How close is the nearest neighbor?” he asked, sliding from his chair to bring his dishes to where she stood loading the dishwasher.

“A...a mile or so from here.” Myra straightened. Their arms brushed, surprising her because she hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close. She stepped back and almost fell over the open dishwasher door.

“Hey, hey. Careful.” Zeke grabbed her upper arm to keep her from taking a spill.

Caught between his close, warm body and the dishwasher, her breath hitched and her pulse quickened. She breathed a sigh of relief when he let go of her arm and moved aside.

Her cell phone rang. Myra recognized her neighboring rancher’s number. “Hank, hi,” she said, stepping away from the sink. “Is everything okay at the Bar W?”

“It’s good. I thought I’d check on you. I was in town picking up supplies and I heard a rumor you were leaving. I’m running trucks to market in a few days if the snow melts—and the weathermen predict it will. Do you still need space for your stock?”

Myra pinched the bridge of her nose. She should’ve known her business would be all over town. The café wasn’t empty when she talked to her friends. And gossip was a mainstay of any small town. “I... We still need a truck. I helped the ranch’s new owner trail cow-calf pairs down to our grass pasture today. Are any of the Jarvis boys home? Lieutenant Maxwell is going to need help sorting, and certainly help sending cows through chutes for vaccinating, parasite treatment and pregnancy testing.”

“Lieutenant Maxwell? Is that the soldier hero who saved Eric’s life? Your grandpa Cal mentioned him.”

“He’s one and the same. Dad gave him the Flying Owl.” She made an effort to not sound distressed.

“Hot damn! Where does that leave you, Myra?”

“I’m still figuring that out. About the Jarvis boys...?”

“Two are off at college, and I guess you didn’t hear that Gordy, the high school junior, broke his leg playing football. He’s in a cast.”

“Damn.” Myra frowned at Zeke, who’d finished loading the dishwasher and leaned against the sink cabinet watching her.

“The yearlings have to be weaned for market,” she went on. “I can do that since some of the money from the sale is slated to pay off the last of Gramps’s banknote. When will you have room on a semi?”

“Day after tomorrow. I can be there to load up by nine.”

“Okay. Oh, and Hank, I drove down a couple of Bar W heifers and calves, and a few of Ralston’s that mixed in with my herd. Working in snow I figured it’d be easiest to bring them all in.”

“Dave rented my truck for tomorrow. I’ll ask if he’ll send a cowhand over while you’re cutting.”

They reiterated a time for loading and said goodbye. Myra tossed her phone on the counter. “What was that all about?” Zeke asked.

Myra put soap in the dishwasher and started it running. “It means you’re stuck with me for a few more days at least. Unless you can pull a cowboy out of your hat. There are calves to get to market and bills to pay. Hank only charges for the gas it costs to drive from here to the stockyards. You won’t get a better deal in your lifetime. Plus, greenhorn that you are, you need to see and help with a process that gets done every year.”

“Okay. But does that mean you have to forgo finding a teaching job?”

“I told you, it’s probably too late now to secure a fall opening.”

“You did. You also offered to buy me out. Greenhorn I may be, but I’m not ready to sell. Not until I know if I have what it takes to be a rancher. Just so we’re clear, I had what it took to be a Green Beret.”

“Touché.” She opened the fridge and pulled out some fresh lettuce from the keeper, crossed the room and set it in Orion’s bowl. She rubbed his ears and the pig all but smiled.

“Is he full grown?” Zeke asked.

Myra shook her head. “He weighs about fourteen pounds. Jewell says the full-grown micromini probably ends up twenty pounds.”

“Do you have a dog to help herd cattle and the like?”