A sparkly white truck turned up Kiersten Day’s gravel drive, crawling over the ruts. Blinding spring sunlight flashed on its windshield. Squinting, she made out the license plates. Texas. “Damn big-shot Texans. Always showing off.”
Nobody else but CJ Howell, cattleman, billionaire, and pompous ass would drive a Cadillac truck in the rugged hills of Colorado. And he was the only person from Texas who could be coming to visit her. He’d never bothered to meet her in person before, so he must have come up with a new way to pressure her into selling her property to him.
The pearly truck stopped a few feet away.
The driver wore a tall white cowboy hat.
She managed, with great effort, to not roll her eyes.
Near her knee, Oscar growled at the stranger emerging from the truck.
White cowboy boots and narrow jeans appeared first, then the biggest, most gaudy belt buckle she’d ever seen, peeking out from under an enormous belly. That stiff, white, tucked-in shirt... hoo boy. She half expected to see a tiny bolo tie around his big neck, where multiple chins rolled beneath a smile about as genuine as a politician’s promise to lower taxes.
While he looked her over, he cleared his throat. “Hello there. Miz Day, Ah presume?” When she didn’t provide an affirmative answer, he sucked in a big breath. “Ah’m Charles. Chaz, most folks call me. Ah come to talk bizness.” His ruddy cheeks jiggled as he glanced toward her cabin and then back at her. “Is, Mr. Day around?”
No use pretending to be civil. “Mr. Day is my grandpa, and he doesn’t live here. He’s retired. Any business you’ve got with the Days, you can discuss with me.” Resisting the urge to look defensive and cross her arms over her chest, she planted her hands on her hips instead.
Chaz’s piggish eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. “Well, Miz Day, in the past you haven’t come across as a terribly reasonable woman. Ah plan to see Flyin H Colorado operational this year, so—”
“Ho, wait!” She held up her hand to halt his words. “Operational. Does that mean you’re bringing the cows this year?” Damn. Bad enough the guy lurked in the shadows, trying every trick in the book to get her property condemned or seized, now he was going to graze cattle on both sides of her? On land that had been owned by sheep ranchers for generations?
“Cattle.” If possible, those piggy eyes narrowed even more. “Not cows. Yes, ma’am. We’re bringin the cattle this year and Ah’m here to buy this piece o’ propitty so’s we can utilize the public land we leased.”
What a laugh. “It’s your own stupid fault for leasing that land before you owned property with access to it.” On long winter nights spent alone, this fact had kept her spirits up. She’d foiled Howell’s plan by not selling him her little ranch, the only private access to the Bureau of Land Management parcel behind it.
From collar to hat brim, the Texan turned red. “Your neighbors got fair prices for their land, Miz Day. Ah come to offer you a million five for yours.”
“A mill—” She choked. “Million five? For my little two hundred acres?” Man. Howell wanted her land, and he wanted it bad. Made her smile to think how bad he wanted it. Not only would it give him access to the two thousand acres he’d leased for grazing, but it would fill the big hole in the middle of the spread he’d attempted to build. “Sorry. No deal.”
He shook his head. “Ever-body’s got a price. How much more you want?”
“Rocky Peak is not for sale. Get that through your head. Not. For. Sale.”
Chaz sputtered and chewed his upper lip. “This is why Ah don’t do bizness with women. How can Ah git in contact with your granddaddy?”
His condescending tone made her blood boil.
“It was no deal three years ago and it’s still no deal. Rocky Peak has always been and always will be a sheep ranch, and it’s always going to be owned by the Day family.” Her voice rose. Why attempt to disguise her anger? “So just load your happy ass back in your fancy truck and take your million bucks back to Texas.”
Oscar growled again, as if to emphasize her point.
She turned on her heel and patted her leg so he’d follow.
“Miz Day, Ah was hopin it wouldn’t come to this.”
His tone was so low, she froze in her tracks to listen.
“This is a mahty quiet place you got here. Peaceful, some maht say, but remote. Some folks think it’s odd, how you live out here all on yer own. Dangerous, really.”
Goosebumps rose along her arms.
“Anythin could happen to a young lady up here all alone. Anythin. Ah wonder if your Granddaddy wouldn’t decide to sell the place, without you around to hang onto it.”
With her heart pounding, she turned and faced him. “Leave.” She managed to keep her voice calm, for the most part. “And next time you show your face on my property, you’ll be saying hello to the business end of my twelve gauge.”
Oscar snarled.
At Howell’s smug grin, she commanded, “Oscar. Kill.”
Though Oscar didn’t move, Chaz scrambled into his truck and slammed the door shut.
As he drove away, her middle fingers stood tall and proud, saluting both Chaz and the great state of Texas.
“Texan.” What bigger insult could she spit out? “Wants to take over the whole state. Like the world needs another Texas. Come to my door and tell me everybody’s got a price? Kiss my white mountain butt, cattleman!”
Harnessing her furious energy, she plunged her spade into dark, fresh soil. Spring had been slow coming, but was in full swing today. Just this week, the north-facing banks of snow had shriveled to tiny patches in the shadows of rocks and trees. She had to get an early start on gardening if she hoped to harvest more than radishes in the stunted growing season at elevation eight thousand.
“Think because I’m a woman you can show up with your stupid Stetson hat, driving your Cadillac truck, and tell me how it’s gonna be? Take your long-horns and shove ’em up your—” Catching her breath, she leaned on her shovel and looked down at Oscar, whose ears perked toward her. “Yeah, I know, yack, yack, yack. Com’ere, boy!”
Oscar obliged, his shaggy tail wagging off-center as he ran a crooked line toward her. His tongue hung out, probably because he’d spent the last hour digging after a gopher. As usual, his chase had proven fruitless when the gopher escaped in its labyrinth of tunnels. Following a fine tradition of canine optimism, Oscar spent several hours every day striving to obtain his lifelong aim of one day catching a gopher. If it hurt his pride that the two cats he shared a home with succeeded frequently where he had failed, he never let on.
She rewarded her mutt’s hard work by scratching his ears and letting him jump up and rest his head on her shoulder. “Stinky dog. You’ve been playing in that yucky mud already, haven’t ya?” He was smarter than he looked. He’d known the Texan’s visit had upset her, and stayed by her side, ears turned forward, until the pearly pickup truck had disappeared down the driveway.
“Okay, down boy. Go swim. You stink!” She tossed a rock into the small spring-fed pond, and Oscar loped away to fetch it. Long after it sank, he’d patiently swim in search of the rock. A cruel trick, but it served the dual purposes of getting the dog out of the way and maybe getting him clean.
Back to the task at hand. She jabbed her spade into the ground. Preparing the soil was hard work, but she’d reap the rewards at harvest time. If she could keep that bastard Howell at bay.
The guy didn’t let up. His lawyers had pressured, begged, and tried to bribe Grandpa into selling, but the old-timer wouldn’t budge. Next, the Texans had turned to underhanded legal tactics. Getting the property rezoned had failed to run the Days off, but saddled them with astronomical property taxes. She’d been able to pay the staggering fees for Grandpa, but he’d still feared losing the property.
Then her personal life had fallen into more pieces than that last shovelful of dirt. She’d leased out her optometric practice and retail optical shop, sold her house in town and moved to the cabin.
Another year of residence, and the Peak would no longer be zoned as a resort. The taxes would go down and she wouldn’t have to live here anymore, but she had no intention of returning to her semi-urban life and her professional career.
“Society sucks anyway. Men especially.”
Now and then, she spent a few days in town covering vacation for her replacement at the practice. Just enough to maintain her license and keep abreast of new advancements, in case she ever needed to practice again. She wasn’t completely cut off from the world. Only as much as she wanted to be.
She paused to catch her breath, leaned on the shovel handle and looked over at her log house, sturdy but small, surrounded by a stand of spruce trees on the south and aspen trees on the west. Because of its mountaintop location, cellular service was good. She’d had a solar power system installed, with a gas-run generator for backup. A spring and holding tank system supplied running water. Her stove and refrigerator ran on propane from a tank big enough to last all winter, until the trucks could make it up her road again in the spring to refill it. The wood-burning stove provided all the heat she needed.
Life on Rocky Peak had been moving along smoothly, one season running into the next, until today.
CJ Howell was more pompous than she’d dreamed any man could be.
Her stomach growled, reminding her how long she’d been at work.
“Lunch time,” she announced to the hillside at large. Nobody around to argue.
Maybe today she’d have a little company to go with her tuna fish sandwich.
She’d check her email, see if Nate had sent something funny. God knew she could use a laugh today. She kept a satellite dish mainly for internet access, and several TV shows she’d become addicted to, thanks to Nate’s ravings.
Good old Nate, who’d followed her when she left the optometry practice. Gone from office manager to ranch hand and college student, but remained the best pal a girl could have.
Cook-N’s message read:
Kie,
Do you ever answer your phone? Hell-o? Get on that thing and call me. I have the most juicy news EVER! Now, girlfriend, now!
N
Smiling, she dialed his number. What could possibly be exciting in the boring little town of Rifle, Colorado?
He answered with, “It’s about time!”
“I’ve been busy working, smartass. What have you been doing?”
“Cranky, are we? Whatsa matter, did we miss our nap?”
“Yeah, we did. We had a visit from our Texan neighbor this morning.”
“Oh no. Didn’t go well, I take it? What’s he like?”
“Let’s see. Texas-size beer belly, Boss Hogg hat and boots—”
“No way!”
“Way, baby. And driving a pearly Cadillac truck, no less. Chaz let me know I’m not qualified to make business decisions about selling the property, and that I’m putting myself at risk by being here all alone.”
“He did not!”
“Mmm-hmm. Oh, and he informed me that anybody can be bought. But this morning a million five wasn’t enough to buy me.”
Nate whistled long and low.
“Nate, am I crazy? That’s a lot of money, but this place is all I’ve got left of my family once Grandpa dies. All the work he and Grandma put in here, homesteading it... I don’t know.” She sighed. “I just can’t let it go.”
“You’re not crazy, honey, you’re principled. After all you’ve been through to keep that place, I’d kick your fine ass if you let it go for some quick cash.”
“Thanks.” It was good to hear from somebody else that she wasn’t making a mistake by fighting what often felt like a battle of her versus the world. “They’re bringing the cattle this year.”
“They’re finally gonna do it, huh? Should be an interesting summer.”
“Charles is gonna be doing an interesting dance next time he shows up at my house, cause I’ll be shooting at his Boss Hogg boots the minute he sets foot out of his pansy-ass truck.”
“You should put in a complaint about him threatening you.”
“He probably has the Sheriff’s department in his pocket along with the County Commissioners. It’d get back to him before I even made it home. Then he’d think he scared me.”
“Maybe you should come stay down here for a bit. We’ll paint the town.”
“There’s too much to do this time of year. I have to get the fence up to keep those stupid walking steaks off our pasture, for one thing. And I can’t appear intimidated.” Show no fear. Rocky Peak was one of very few things she allowed herself to be emotional about anymore. Grandpa and Nate were the only people in her heart, and they’d both been there, before. Thank God she had Nate to watch over Grandpa while she couldn’t be there—even though the independent old codger had no idea she paid Nate to do so—and to help him out with the heavier ranch work.
“Come on,” he coaxed. “A few nights. Let this thing blow over. I’ll come up next week and help with the fence. You need to go out and get laid, missy. It’s time to move on.”
“Spoken like a true man. Just because you need one to be satisfied, doesn’t mean I do. And I have moved on, but I’ve done it alone. That’s how I intend to stay. I keep telling you, men suck.”
“Only the good ones, darlin. Only the good ones.”
She rewarded his joke with a soft chuckle.
“Okay chica, you want my juicy gossip, or what?”
Unable to suppress a grin at his excitement, she said, “Hit me.”
“Your old pal Trayce is in the newspaper.”
Ugh. Trayce. The original redneck creep, a fitting accomplice for her husband. She ripped out a loose thread on the couch. The fabric puckered at her.
“He had this cute young girlfriend who turned out to be underage. He got picked up for providing alcohol for all her little friends. And statutory rape.”
“Karma conquers all.” Served a thirty-five-year-old man right, for dating a little girl.
“He’s already bonded out, but he was front page news, not just listed in the Cop Shop section of the paper. Since he sells guns in his shop, his record has to be clean. He hired some big-deal lawyer from Denver. If he doesn’t get off, he’ll have to give up his firearms license.”
“Maybe he’ll have to move away if he loses his dealer’s license.” She could only hope. All his evil deeds, like constantly slandering her, were about to be repaid.
“Honey, if things go bad for him in court, he’ll have to move away to Canyon City, to the State Pen. We should go out and celebrate. When you comin down?”
“Tomorrow.” His support was nice, but she wasn’t interested in partying to celebrate Trayce’s possible demise.
“Bring your overnight bag. We’ll bar-hop in Grand Junction.”
“Nate.”
“Come on, no pressure. Pretend I’m your date, and if somebody fine comes along that I can’t catch, I’ll send him your way.”
“Fine. One night. That’s it. Then I have to get back up here.” God, why was he so damned interested in her sex life when his own was complicated? “Don’t you have a class today?”
“I’m on my way there now. Bring your black jeans for tomorrow night. You look really hot in them.”
“Yeah, like you’d know.”
“Tell me you can’t appreciate a beautiful woman, and you can tell me I can’t either.”
“Whatever. You could solve both our problems if you’d fall in love with me,” she teased.
“I already did, girlfriend. Gotta run. Ciao!”