The rep from San Diego Markets was waiting when she arrived at the farm office shortly before one. Beth had intended to arrive at noon, but her mother had waylaid her as she changed for work. The farm shipped most of their produce east, but the San Diego Markets had been one of their first customers many years earlier, and they remained loyal.
When she walked Rich Myers to his car an hour later, Beth realized the time with him had been a welcome respite. They’d talked organics and shipments, and she had not had a minute to think about the heartache. Work. I will immerse myself in work until I can figure out what the hell to do with the tattered remains of my life. She headed for the washing barn to pick up a golf cart.
She decided to start Lang’s tour with a ride out to the edge of the gardens, then swing over to the west meadows, where sheep and cattle grazed. Then they would come back via the pastures where pigs and chicken ran free. After that, she would park the cart and they could walk through the processing barns, if he was interested.
No sooner had she pulled up to the office with the cart than she spied the now familiar beige Rover driving up the dirt road. He waved and parked alongside her truck. “Hey, this is amazing!”
“Thanks. It’s taken several hardworking generations of Morgans to get to this point.”
Beth was so glad to see him, she almost fainted. Just being around him made her feel warm, safe, and almost whole. She knew he would be gone in less than two weeks, but it was sure nice to have him now, another respite from the emptiness that stretched in front of her.
What was she going to do? She could not live with her parents forever, or even for a few weeks. As she watched Lang approach, she remembered that the senior Morgans were about to embark on a two-month cruise. If she could make it until they departed in three weeks, she would be fine hanging out with Ruthie and Carmela for a while.
As she waved, giving him a wan smile, Lang noted the dark circles ringing her lovely hazel eyes. Not a wink of sleep last night, he guessed. He’d had more than a few of those nights after Cilla left. He could still hear her words that last day: It’s your house, your money, and your insensitivity, and I want nothing more to do with them or you.
“I thought we’d start by taking a ride out to the edge of the gardens,” Beth said. “That way, you can get an idea of the scope.”
“Perfect. You driving?”
“Hop in.”
As he sat down, his thigh grazed hers, and Lang reached over and took her hand. “Thanks for taking time out of your day for this. I’m really interested in what you’re doing out here.”
She averted her eyes. “My pleasure. Anything to distract me from the rest of the mess. I mean, that didn’t come out right. What I meant to say is, I’m happy to do it.”
He reached over and cupped her chin, turning her so their eyes met. “Beth, don’t feel like you have to be brave for me. I went through a breakup of a long-time relationship last year. It sucks. Better to let it out. Cry when you need to and lean on your friends.”
Tears rimmed her eyes as she regarded him sadly. “I’m not very good at leaning on people.”
“Well, then, maybe it’s time to start. Let’s see what this operation’s all about, shall we?”
He smiled his drop-dead, killer smile. She turned to start the cart, afraid that if she didn’t, she would throw herself into his arms and beg him to take her away from all this. Friends, she told herself. Just friends.
They spent a happy hour riding from one end of the farm to the other, stopping to watch the animals, talking to some of the workers, and enjoying the incredible views up and down the Valley. An orographic effect, of cloud formation and with it lots of moisture had created this green space, surrounded by mountains with desert beyond to the east, west, north, and south. Aside from six enormous ranches that included Morgan’s Run and the Dillons’ winery, a largely undiscovered town existed. Saguaro Valley was an oasis for its roughly three thousand year-round residents and an equal number of snowbirds, tourists, and wealthy vacationers who found their way through the passes in at various points in the year. The Morgans, the Dillons, and a few others like them were responsible for the undiscovered part. They zealously guarded the Valley from outsiders and had bought up most of the land, deeding it back to conservancy groups with the understanding that they could farm it, but that it could never be developed.
As they parked at the largest washing barn, Raoul emerged. “Hey, Beth, can I talk to you a sec?”
The three headed into the barn. The older man had skin the color of burnt leather, and his coal-black eyes shone with warmth. He wore faded black jeans with a tear in one thigh, a faded green farm tee shirt, and a wide-brimmed straw Stetson, stained with mud and grease.
“Enos is coming Wednesday. Do we have enough people or do you want me to call into town?”
While Beth and Ruthie technically ran the farm, Raoul managed all the livestock and ran most decisions by Beth. It was an interesting partnership, since he had trained both sisters from the time they showed interest in the farm. The relationship worked because of the deep mutual respect they had for one another. Neither Beth nor her sister interfered with Raoul’s decisions, and he supported their quiet, generous leadership. The days they collaborated most closely were slaughtering and market days.
Enos Walker was the person who slaughtered all their animals, except the chickens, which Raoul did himself with a cone-shaped contraption that made the deaths humane, quick, and stress-free for the animals. Enos had a variety of techniques that he used to slaughter each animal, each breed, as humanely as possible. An expert marksman, he shot the steers as they grazed; they died instantly in the place they had spent their entire lives. The pigs, lambs, and sheep were slaughtered in the slaughtering barn, but with as little stress to the animals as they could manage.
“How many?”
“Two steers, eight pigs, and a dozen lambs.”
“Better get a couple of the local kids. You’ll need help bringing the beef in.”
“Will do. Nice to see you, Mr. Dillon.”
“Lang, please.”
Raoul tipped his hat and disappeared as they stepped back into the sunlight.
“So you slaughter everything here. That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Not for farms where they care about their animals. If we’re gonna eat or make a profit from their sacrificed lives, we’re sure as hell gonna see that they don’t die in fear and stress. Enos and Raoul are incredible. I’ve never seen an animal scared in their presence. We’ve consulted a lot of people about this. Temple Grandin’s work has helped enormously. Do you know of Temple’s work?”
He shook his head.
“She’s a professor of animal science at Colorado State. She’s also an autism activist. She’s spent the better part of her life consulting to the livestock industry on animal behavior and humane ways of keeping and killing livestock. She visited Morgan’s Run five years ago. It was such an honor to have her. We had already implemented most of the slaughtering practices we use today. She was really impressed.”
“Is there anything you can’t do, Beth Morgan, farmer and livestock breeder extraordinaire?”
“Plenty, like keeping the coyotes away from our lambs. We’re getting donkeys and a couple of herding dogs. We’ll see how that works out. Would you like to see the other barns?”
“Love to, unless I’m keeping you from your work.”
She laughed. “We’re a well-oiled machine here. Can’t you tell?”
“It’s really good to hear you laugh, Beth. I’ll have to dredge up all the ridiculous jokes I know so I can hear that beautiful sound again.”
As he spoke, he felt her stiffen beside him. When he turned, her face was ashen as she stared straight ahead. He followed her gaze and saw a stranger emerging from the farm office.
“Beth, hi.” Bill waved as he approached, gaze moving from her to the handsome stranger beside her. Who the hell was this cowboy?
She said nothing but stood stiff and silent beside Lang. When Bill reached them, she said, “Lang Dillon, this is Bill Sampson. Bill was just leaving.”
“Beth, please? Could you excuse us, Mr. Dillon?”
“No, he could not. I told you not to come.”
“The lady doesn’t want to see you right now, pal.”
“I’m not your pal, so piss off.”
“Like hell I will!”
Beth threw out her arms. “That’s enough. Wait here, Bill.”
She grabbed Lang’s arm and pulled him toward the Rover.
“Don’t do this, Beth. I can get rid of him in two seconds flat.”
As they stood at the far side of the Rover, she placed her hand on his strong forearm. “Thank you, but Bill is my problem. I truly didn’t want to see him, but now that he’s here, I’ll give him a few minutes.”
“Bad idea.” Without thinking, he placed his hands on the curve of her hips, wanting nothing more than to pull her close for a lingering kiss. That would give the sniveling bastard something to think about.
“Probably, but I might as well get it over with.” She placed her hands on his strong shoulders, longing to run them along his chiseled jaw. “You go. I’ll see you tonight. Still picking me up at seven?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Are you sure? I can stay. I’ll just sit in my car until he leaves.”
She laughed. “I’ll be fine. We’ll talk in the office. Fear not. If I get into trouble, Ruthie or Raoul will come to my rescue.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Until tonight.”
“Yes,” she answered, breathless at his nearness. She waved as he pulled out of the drive, then turned to face Bill, who had watched the entire scene slack-jawed.