Narrowing his eyes, Carpenter wrenched free and spat on the ground. “I’ll get my gas someplace else.”
He jumped into his truck and roared off.
Nearby, a man Sly didn’t know shook his head. “He’s got a temper on him, that one.”
Gus Jones, a fellow rancher, left his Jeep at the pump and joined Sly. “Tim Carpenter has never been an easy man to deal with, but that was the worst I’ve ever seen him. You okay?”
Aside from his near miss with Carpenter’s fist and a big adrenaline rush, Sly was fine. He nodded.
After filling the tank and paying, he left. When he got home, he was still so rattled, he jumped bareback on Bee and gave her free rein. Before long they were flying across the ranch, with the wind at their backs and nothing to see but livestock and acres of his rolling fields. Eventually he calmed down.
That evening he called and updated Dave Swain. “After the rains we had last weekend, one of the lower pastures flooded,” he explained. “I need the money Carpenter cost me for my new drainage system, and I need it now. I want you to add a penalty to the lawsuit, so every day Carpenter delays the settlement, it costs him more.”
“I wouldn’t advise that,” Dave said. “It’d be like rubbing salt into the wound and could make things even worse.”
Thinking it over, Sly had to agree. “Okay, so now what do we do?”
“Sit tight,” Dave said, “and let us lawyers earn our fees.”
Sly didn’t enjoy playing this particular waiting game. Especially now, during the rainy season. Every day Carpenter delayed put the ranch in more jeopardy.
The rains were heavy over the next week, and Sly divided his long days between spring calving and digging new ditches. The old system worked only sporadically now. Though the ditches diverted some of the water and reduced the danger of flooding, copious amounts of mud clogged every low-lying pasture. Cattle got stuck in the stuff. Fortunately, as yet none had fallen or sustained injuries, but they had to be moved. Sly, Bean, and Ollie herded them to higher ground.
Between that and the usual ranching chores, they were all stretched thin. With so much on his plate, Sly barely had a moment to grab a decent meal, let alone think about Lana during the day. But at night when he should’ve been dead to the world, he lay in bed, wanting her. They were as mismatched as a flip-flop and a cowboy boot, and getting involved with her would only lead to trouble.
Regardless, his desire for her continued to grow, until he had to kiss her again or lose his mind. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t enjoy the kiss half as much as he remembered. Then it’d be easier to forget about her.
That Saturday he spent a wet morning checking for new calves and looking for signs of heifers in labor. Around noon, the rain stopped. He was about to head home and change into dry clothes when he came across a black heifer. She was in labor and lying on her side, pushing hard.
He stayed nearby, not too close, but within reach in case she needed help. Using his phone, he snapped a couple of photos. It was an easy birth, and mama cow did fine by herself. Finally, something to grin about. “Way to go, you two,” he said in a low voice that wouldn’t startle them.
His first thought was that Lana would enjoy these photos. Covered in mud, he showered, changed, wolfed down a sandwich and then headed for her place.
She lived in a town-house community that was well maintained. Flower boxes underscored every window of her two-story place, just as they did at the daycare.
Bushes lined both sides of her little yard, some already fat with buds on the verge of blooming. A pot of colorful tulips decorated the little stoop beside the door.
Sly pushed the doorbell. Seconds later, she answered. Wearing jeans and a ragged, paint-smeared sweatshirt, with her hair banana-clipped off her face and a smudge of paint on her cheek, she looked cute.
With that, he silently admitted that he was here for more than a few photos. He wanted to kiss Lana and find out if she was as sweet as he remembered.
“Sly,” she said, her surprised expression almost comical. “What are you doing here?”
“I want to show you something.”
“You obviously know where I live. I’m guessing you also have my number. You couldn’t call and give me a heads-up you were coming?”
He’d figured she’d tell him to stay away. “You asked me not to call,” he said. “I thought I’d surprise you.”
The couple next door, whom he judged to be about his age, stopped their yard work and stared openly at him.
Lana waved at them, then widened the door. “Come in.”
After wiping his boots on a welcome mat that resembled a giant sunflower, Sly stepped into a house that felt warm and welcoming. More flowers filled a vase on the end table in the living room. She obviously had a thing for flowers—and bright colors. The whole place was painted in cheerful colors that couldn’t help but lift the spirits.
“Nice place,” he said.
“Thanks. I bought it after the divorce and have been fixing it up ever since. Do you want something to drink?”
