Rebecca Winters - Her Wyoming Hero

Ross had still to decide what it was going to be like taking care of two people who’d been given every luxury life had to offer. Having been born a Livingston of the billionaire oil barons of Texas, he knew firsthand the kind of society she and her son had come from. He would reserve judgment, however, until after he’d spent some time with them.

As for now, he was excited about an idea he wanted to explore with Carson. It had been percolating in his mind for a long time, but he hadn’t wanted to bring it up until he could see how well their dude ranch business had been doing.

“So, what gives?” Carson prodded him.

Ross would have answered, but like Carson and Buck, he had a cough they’d picked up in Afghanistan that had ended their military careers. This morning there was a hint of smoke in the air from a forest fire in nearby Yellowstone. It had aggravated their coughs. He pulled out his inhaler prescribed by the doctor. Pretty soon he got some relief, but the medicine had a tendency to make him sleepy, something he had to fight while they were out on the range.

When he finally caught his breath, Ross began. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you once tell me your great great grandfather obtained the mineral rights to this place before the government could get their hands on them?”

Carson eyed him with curiosity. “I did.”

“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought since Sublette and Fremont Counties bordering you have been seeing a boom in natural gas.”

“That’s right. You graduated in petroleum engineering. You think there’s gas under my land?” he asked before letting go with a cough.

“With more and more energy companies springing up around Lander and Thermopolis, I think there’s a pretty good possibility you’re living on top of a big pocket of it here in Teton County. Wyoming has the second largest proven natural gas reserve in the U.S. behind Texas.”

I ought to know, he thought with a grimace. His last name was synonymous with oil in the Lone Star State, where he’d been raised.

“The money you’d derive from a producing well could keep the ranch solvent for years to come. It’s just a thought.” One Ross would like to see happen for his friend.

“A few years ago my grandfather told me he’d been approached by a gas company, but he wouldn’t hear of doing anything about it.”

“I can understand that. Wyoming is a pristine environment that has been underexplored and underexploited. I’m sure he wanted to keep it that way.”

“He feared the onslaught of progress.”

“You can’t blame him. But the ever-increasing demand for gas in the U.S. has led to a quadrupling of the price, causing companies in Russia and Venezuela, both big natural gas suppliers, to have shut off access to foreign companies. The same in the Gulf of Mexico where easy-to-drill reserves have been depleted. Progress has made its way to your door.”

Carson pushed his cowboy hat back on his head. “You’re talking about drilling for it right here?”

“This is the flattest uninhabited section of your land away from people and animals. Bringing in a road over this section would cause the least amount of disturbance to the environment and would be virtually invisible. Naturally I can’t give you proof there’s gas here without doing some preliminary drilling.”

His friend was quiet for a minute. “Wouldn’t that cost a ton of money I don’t have?”

Ross nodded. “But I have some savings I can draw from. It would be my way of investing in your ranch to give you something back after what you’ve done for me. Then I’d feel a real part of it.”

“You already are,” Carson answered solemnly.

“I’d like to do more for you.”

After a pause Carson asked, “What all would be involved?”

Ross was pleased his friend was at least listening to his proposal. “Wyoming’s gas is unconventional. It doesn’t sit in easy pools above oil, but thousands of feet beneath the earth in pockets of sandstone and coal formations. If the gas is there, the steel pipe will have to drive 11,000 feet into the ground to capture it.

“One good thing. Nowadays gas companies can put the derricks down on mats instead of the ground in order to preserve the top soil and roots. But there’s no way around the fact that there are still a lot of negatives, and always will be.”

“You’ve got me thinking,” Carson said as Ross’s phone rang, interrupting their conversation.

When he saw it was the ranch calling, he clicked on. “Hey, Willy. What’s up?” The part-time mechanic helped run the front desk.

“There’s been another change in the Wentworths’ itinerary you need to know about.”

He coughed. “What’s that?” Earlier in the week their latest invited guest had already indicated she wouldn’t be able to make it on Friday and would come Saturday instead.

“The fax says she and her son will be flying into Jackson Hole at three p.m.”

He frowned while Carson looked on. “I wonder why they aren’t coming in on the flight we arranged.” They weren’t supposed to be due in until six-thirty this evening.

“I don’t know. Since you’re out touring the ranch, do you want me to go for them?”

Ross checked his watch. There was time to get back and shower if he and Carson left now. “No.” This was his responsibility. “I’ll do it. Thanks for the heads-up, Willy.” He clicked off.

“What’s going on?”

“Mrs. Wentworth will be here at three instead of six-thirty. I need to get going.”

“I’ll ride with you. I promised to spend part of the day showing Johnny how to ride bareback.”

“That boy gets better every day.”

“He’s a natural.”

“Just like his new dad.” Ross smiled at his friend. “Carson? Give what we talked about some thought and let me know later.”

“Why don’t you get a few bids together and we’ll go from there.”

“I’m going to get on it pronto.”

They took off at a gallop. Carson hadn’t said no. Drilling a hole from start to finish would take a month. It would be better to do it before winter set in. Ross would arrange to meet an oil engineer out here on Monday. Then he could present it to Carson with more information to back up his idea.

But right now he had other things on his mind. For the next week he would have his hands full entertaining a nine-year-old boy who’d lost his father and was grieving.

Ross hoped he was as sweet as Johnny Lundgren, Carson’s newly adopted seven-year-old son. The boy had charmed everyone on the ranch with his curiosity and good nature, and had walked right into his friend’s heart. For that matter so had Buck’s new stepdaughter, Jenny. Ross was crazy about both the kids.

Once they’d returned their horses to the barn, Carson took off for his new house, the one Buck had built for him, Tracy and Johnny on the property near the Snake River. Buck came from a family who owned a construction business. As for Ross, he drove the Jeep back to the main ranch house to get cleaned up.

Since Buck had moved downstairs with his wife, Alex, and her granddaughter, Jenny, Ross had the whole top floor of the place to himself. For the first time since his return from Afghanistan last January, he was aware of his “aloneness” and didn’t like it.

With his mood becoming decidedly morose on that score, Ross was lucky he had guests to pick up.

Carson’s earlier question about a possible woman on Ross’s mind had hit a nerve. One day, I’ll have a family of my own.

* * *

THE JET FROM Denver taxied to a stop at the Jackson airport. Kit’s heart hammered in her ears. She undid the seat belt and got to her feet, glancing at her desperately unhappy son who was still sleepy from the medicine she’d given him for air sickness.