A south wind swung the Lazy M Ranch sign back and forth on the carved wooden sign hanging above the cattle guard. Holly had driven onto too many ranches to count during the years she had been working for the company. Sometimes the land looked good for an oil well, and she took her reports back to the office for the lawyers to work up the contract. Sometimes she had to dash the owners’ hopes of finding oil on their land. When the bright yellows, oranges, pinks, and purples of a gorgeous sunset showed up in her rearview mirror, she wasn’t interested in dirt and rocks or whether there might be oil on the Lazy M. She wanted to confront Miles Chapman, and to confess that she’d done the same thing.
She drove down a long lane to a long, low ranch house made of stone and natural wood. She drew in several deep breaths and let them out slowly before she opened the truck door and put her boots on the ground. So this was where Bubba aka Miles lived. This was where he had moved to when he left the Chapman empire near the Red River.
“Good evening, ma’am.” An elderly gentleman waved from the front porch. Three puppies lay sprawled out on the porch. “What brings you out to the Lazy M this evening? Are you lost and needing directions?”
“I’m here to see Bubba Jones, or maybe I should say Miles Chapman,” she said. “And that yellow dog right there.”
“You mean Butter. She’s going to be a really good cattle dog,” the man said.
“What are the other two named?”
“The one with spots will probably give Butter some competition. His name is Boots, and that third one is Hank. He’s pretty good with the goats, and I’m reckoning he’ll be a fine bird dog when I get him trained,” The guy said. “I guess you must be Lula Ann, and honey, if you are, you sure need directions.” The man chuckled. “I’m Elijah, and Miles just left to go work on a fence.” He pointed to her right. “Just follow that trail right there. You ever been on a four-wheeler?”
“Yes, sir, I have. I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Elijah. I’m Holly McLean,” she said.
“Hmph,” Elijah almost snorted. “I thought for a minute you might be Lula Ann.”
“I’m both,” she told him.
He laughed so hard that he got the hiccups. “Key is in that machine right there. I’d love to be a fly on a cow’s butt when you arrive out there.”
“Why?” Holly asked.
“It’s going to be the story of a lifetime,” Elijah answered. “Now get on out there before dark settles in. Don’t let Elvis scare you.”
“Elvis?” she asked.
“He’s the donkey that protects the new calves from coyotes. He can be territorial, and he hates four-wheelers,” Elijah answered.
“Thanks for the advice.” Holly started up the machine and drove away. From a distance, she saw Bubba, now Miles, wrangling a post out of the ground, but it wasn’t until she got closer that she realized his shirt was hanging on the handlebars of his four-wheeler. Sweat glistened on his bare chest and dripped from his jaw. His dark hair hung in wet strands. His name or job title didn’t mean a blessed thing at that moment. She just wanted to walk into his arms and kiss him.
He didn’t even look up until she had braked and parked her machine beside his. Rather than calling out his name, she took a moment to let hope bloom in her heart.
“Elijah, I told you …” he yelled, and then snapped his mouth shut. “Lula Ann … What … How …” he stammered.
“Hello, Miles.” She cut the engine off, swung a leg out over the side, and sat on the machine like she was riding a horse with a side saddle.
He stopped what he was doing, knuckled his eyes, and stared at her for several seconds. “How did you find me? And why haven’t you answered any of my calls?”
For the first time, Holly heard anger in his voice. She hadn’t expected him to rush over and hug her, even though now that she was standing in front of him, she wished he had. But his tone had icicles dripping off every word.
She got off the four-wheeler and sat down on the grass in front of it. Until they had a heart-to-heart, she had no intention of leaving or getting close enough to him to lose all her resolveto not rush into his arms. A dog came flying from a distance and sprawled out beside her. He laid his head in her lap, and she instinctively began to pet him. Strange, but that gesture seemed to calm her jitters.
“Turbo seems to like you,” Miles said.
“Kids and animals love me. Always been that way. Butter and the other two rescued pups are looking a lot better,” she said, and then blurted out, “I owe you an explanation.”
“Yes, you do.” Miles’s tone had softened a little, but not by much. “But then I owe you one, too. How did you find me?”
“The internet,” she said simply. “And it’s a long story that’s not important right now.”
“You could have called.”
“That’s another long story,” she said.
He removed his shirt from the handlebars and put it on but didn’t button it. “I’ve got time,” he said, and sat down a few feet from her. “I was going to explain everything the night we were supposed to come out here to the ranch, but you took off with only a short text.”
“Then pretend that you brought me out here, and you are explaining now,” Holly said.
