Linda Warren - Caitlyn's Prize

“Those people are not pleasant when they don’t get their money.”

“Judd mentioned that.”

“Maybe Judd was the only solution for Dane, for High Five.”

She pointed a finger at Cooper. “Oh, please. Don’t you dare go over to his side.”

“I’m not, but you know how your father was. He never had a spending limit.”

“I know.” She stretched her shoulders, wishing she could close her eyes and the nightmare would go away.

“I saw Judd’s truck here this afternoon.”

“Yeah. He was doing what he does best, pressuring me to sell.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I wasn’t here all those years ago when you broke the engagement, but I assume you had a good reason.”

Cait thought about that. Would a man understand? Cooper was her best friend. She told him a lot of things, but sharing her feelings about Judd wasn’t on the table.

“Okay, that’s a little personal, and I don’t do personal,” Coop said quickly. “Think I’ll head to the bunkhouse and nurse a beer.”

“Think I’ll head to the study and nurse a gigantic headache named Judd Calhoun.”

Coop smiled. “See you in the morning.”

Caitlyn walked upstairs to check on Gran. She was curled up on a chaise longue, asleep in a dress from the forties, with her long white hair cascading over her shoulder.

Kissing her wrinkled cheek, Cait whispered, “Dream on, Gran.” With a sigh, she sank down to the floor beside her. Resting her head on her grandmother’s hand, she picked up a high-necked dress from the thirties.

So many people depended on her: Gran, her sisters, Etta, Rufus and Cooper. What would they do if High Five was sold?

Judd had her by…What was it that guys said? By the short hairs? All she knew was that Judd had her where it hurt. Bad.

She fingered the dress, which smelled of mothballs, willing herself to come up with a way to get the money she needed to save her home.

Wait a minute. She sat up straight and threw the dress into the trunk. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING Caitlyn was on the way to Mr. McGruder’s. She wanted information about selling sand and gravel. She could have called, but Mr. McGruder was the kind of man who responded better when talking face-to-face. Being of the older generation, he didn’t care for phones all that much. He liked the personal touch.

It didn’t take her long to get the buyer’s name and number. She didn’t ask about price because she knew McGruder wouldn’t divulge it.

Back in her office, she called only to learn the man had all the suppliers he needed. Damn! She told him to keep her in mind if he ever needed another one, and gave him her name and phone number.

By the time she hung up, all the excitement had oozed out of her and she felt stupid. Their financial situation wasn’t going to be that easy to fix. There must be a black cloud over her head or something, but she didn’t have time to wallow in misery. There was work to be done.

She saddled Jazzy, her brown quarter horse, and set out to join Coop and Rufus. Red neighed from across the fence. The mare didn’t like it when Cait rode another horse, but Jaz was for work. Red she rode for pleasure.

The day was already getting hot. Cait pulled her straw hat lower to shade her face. Her arms were protected from the sun by a long-sleeved, pearl-snap shirt. The sun was hell on a woman’s skin.

Coop came to meet her riding a bay gelding. “We have a good count of calves in this pasture to go in June, and we have a lot more on the ground, maybe a September sale.”

They ran a mixed-breed cow-and-calf operation now. Cait’s father had sold the registered stock years ago. In High Five’s heyday her great-grandfather would have nothing but purebreds on his property. But it took time and money to keep records of an animal’s ancestry, so that wasn’t an option for the ranch anymore.

“We can make this work.” Coop glanced around at the knee-deep coastal the cows and calves were standing in. “They have plenty to eat and all we have to do is supply water, salt and minerals.”

Cait moved restlessly in the saddle. “It’s the summer I’m worried about. When the coastal has been eaten and we have barren dry ground.”

“We’ll rotate the pastures like always.”

Cait’s gaze swept over the grazing cattle. “Where’s Ru?”

“Checking the windmill.”

“Good. We have to make sure they have water at all times.”

“I’m heading for the northeast pasture. Catch you later.” Coop kneed his horse and then pulled up again. “Whoa, we got company.”

Cait noticed the riders, too—Albert Harland, the Southern Cross foreman, and two cowboys. Harland was mean as a rattlesnake, sneaky as a ferret, and resembled the latter. His number one goal was to make life as miserable as possible for Caitlyn. He thought she was uppity and didn’t know her place.

He stopped just short of galloping into her. If he thought she was going to show fear, then the man didn’t have a brain cell that was actively working.

“Mornin’, Miss Belle.” He tipped his hat and grinned like a possum eating persimmons.

“Harland.” She folded her hands over the saddle horn. “Is there a problem?”

“Yep.” The saddle protested from his weight. “The fence is down again on this pasture. One of your bulls, the big black one, keeps getting into our registered cows, and Mr. Calhoun would appreciate it if you’d take care of your fences and keep your mangy bull away. It costs us money every time he breeds a cow. You got it?”

Anger shot through her veins like a rocket. “I got it.”

“And if I catch that bull on the Southern Cross again, I’ll shoot him. Do I make myself clear?”

“You bag of—”

Harland broke into Coop’s effusive tirade. “Yates, if I catch you on the Southern Cross, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later. Ex-cons aren’t welcome there.” He jerked his reins to turn his horse, but Caitlyn reached out and grabbed them, effectively stopping the horse. And rider.

“What the hell?” the foreman spluttered.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Harland. That gun business works both ways. If Judd Calhoun doesn’t want to see a lot of dead registered cows sprawled on his property, then I suggest you think twice before shooting my bull.”

“Why, you—”

“And if you even look crossways at Cooper, you’re gonna have a whole lot of mad woman coming your way. Got it?”

“Bitch,” Harland muttered, and jerked his horse away.

“Give your boss the message,” she shouted as they rode off her land.

“Damn, Cait.” Coop stared at her with a startled expression. “You can bullshit better than anyone I know.” His eyes narrowed. “Or did you mean that?”

She shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. “Actually, if I had to shoot any living thing, I’d probably throw up.” She lifted an eyebrow. “But I can talk a good game. I did mean what I said about you, though.” She turned her horse. “Now let’s go get ol’ Boss before he gets us into any more trouble.”

They’d named the bull Boss because he fought every bull that came within his chosen territory. He liked having the cream of the crop, and usually that included their neighbor’s cows.

Caitlyn and Cooper crossed onto Judd’s ranch through the broken barbed wire, and found the bull easily, smack-dab in the middle of a herd of high-class registered cows. He was busy sniffing every animal in sight.

“This could prove to be a little difficult,” Coop said, pulling up alongside Cait. The two of them watched the two-thousand-pound bull chasing cows. “He’s not going to like having his fun interrupted.”