Allie Pleiter - The Texas Rancher's Return

He leaned toward her, widening the grin. “I’d like to oblige, but Daisy may not be interested in playing nice today.”

Brooke couldn’t imagine what days bison chose to play nice. “Is she a wanderer?”

“No, just pregnant. Very. Mamas don’t usually stray away from the herd unless they’re looking for a quiet place to give birth.”

Daisy shifted her weight and gave a low, rumbling moan. Brooke didn’t know too many people who’d consider the middle of the road a dandy place for child—calf-birth. Buffalo—bison, Brooke corrected her thoughts, were supposed to be intelligent animals. She’d never win a strength battle of brute animal vs. compact car, so perhaps diplomacy was the way to go here. She leaned out the window to speak in a direct, friendly address. “Congratulations, Daisy. If you’d be so kind as to move, I want to get home to my little girl, too. I’m sure you understand, so could you give me a couple of feet to ease on by?” The ground on either side of the road was muddy, and Brooke didn’t want to chance getting stuck by going off-road in a car definitely not designed for off-roading.

The man pulled his horse up to stand even with the creature, who swung her enormous head to look at him. She had pretty eyes—huge and chocolate-brown, with a wise kind of character to them. “What do you say, Daisy? Shall we let the lady pass?”

Daisy did not seem inclined to move.

“Please, Daisy?” Brooke couldn’t believe she was pleading with a giant wall of brown fur.

“Let’s just give her a minute.” The rancher adjusted his hat. “So, what brings you all the way out here, ma’am?”

“I just came from a meeting over at Ramble Acres.”

That caught his attention. He sidled the horse back to her window while Brooke calculated how much of a late fee she’d incur by picking Audie up past six at day care. Again. “You with DelTex?” His tone made it clear that this would not be a mark in her favor.

“I’m Brooke Calder. I work for Jace Markham in the community-relations department.”

A sour expression overtook the man’s face. “Jace Markham at DelTex. Huh.” The words had a definite edge, and Brooke began to wonder if he’d instruct Daisy to stay put for a week or two.

“Do you know Markham, Mr....?”

“Buckton. Gunner Buckton. Junior, that is.”

Oh. The possibility of bison horns in her front grill increased considerably. While Brooke wasn’t intimately familiar with all the details, she was aware of a file in the office—a thick one, at that—with the Buckton name on it. It wasn’t full of fan letters to DelTex, that was for sure. Somehow she’d associated the ranch with Gunner Buckton the senior, but he’d passed a while back, hadn’t he? This meant Mr. Markham had been locking horns for the past few months with Gunner Buckton Junior, the man currently beside her on horseback.

Buckton’s now-scowling demeanor didn’t bode well for any assistance getting Daisy to move. He looked more prone to inciting Daisy to charge, if bison did that sort of thing. Then again, on a hot afternoon at eight months pregnant, Brooke had been easy to incite, too. The memory of her late husband calling her “Bronco Brooke” while rubbing her very swollen feet shot into her mind and she swallowed hard. Be nice to the very pregnant bison, Brooke, and maybe she’ll move out of the way.

Buckton’s eyes narrowed under the shadow of his hat. She could almost watch him choose to keep a polite tone as he asked, “What DelTex business brings you onto Blue Thorn land, Ms. Calder?”

Brooke looked down at the pavement below her wheels. “I wasn’t aware I was on Blue Thorn land, Mr. Buckton. I’m next to it—” she nodded toward the fence just behind him “—but just passing through on my way back into Austin. That is until Daisy decided to play roadblock.” She could do without the suspicious glare touching the corner of the man’s startling blue eyes.

“She’s just looking for some solitude,” Buckton said, shifting his gaze back and forth between Brooke and Daisy. “She wants a little space to share with the young’un when the time comes.”

“Don’t we all?” Brooke replied. When was the last time she’d spent an unhurried afternoon with Audie? Suspecting she’d lost her chances with the rancher, Brooke leaned out the window to try again with the bison. “Mama to mama, Daisy, could we hurry things along? I expect we all want to get home to supper.”

Daisy actually snorted in reply but didn’t move. Brooke began to feel like snorting herself. “Is that bison for yes or no?” At the moment, it looked like bison for I’ll take an hour or so to think it over.

“I really don’t want to be late picking up my daughter.” She wasn’t quite sure if she should address her plea to Buckton or Daisy. Neither seemed all that inclined to listen to her.

Buckton scratched his chin. He was rather nice-looking for someone not so nice. “Did you try your horn?”

“Of course I did. First thing, but...” The flimsy, near-silly horn was one of the things Brooke hated most about her little car. She demonstrated its cartoonish beep again for the rancher, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. To Brooke’s dismay, Daisy lifted one hoof as if investigating whether she’d stepped on a squeaky toy.

Buckton snickered. “I see your point.” He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a laugh. “Baby ducks wouldn’t get out of the way of that horn.”

Brooke didn’t have time for this little standoff. She made a show of looking at her watch, then up at the rancher. “I really am in a bit of a time crunch here. Can you think of anything that might get Daisy to move? I’d be obliged.”

Buckton looked at her for a long minute, his sky-blue eyes piercing under the shade of his hat brim. Hadn’t she read somewhere that all the Bucktons had the same striking turquoise eyes? Was that where the ranch name had come from? Mr. Markham had certainly made his share of jokes about the Blue Thorn being the “Big Thorn” in his side. Brooke offered Buckton a “pretty please” smile and checked her watch again. Audie hated it when she was the last child to be picked up from day care, and her lonely face sitting on the center steps never failed to make Brooke feel like the Worst Parent of the Year.

Buckton seemed to ponder his options for a moment then suddenly wheeled his horse around and shouted, “Hee-ya, girl!” at the massive bison. Daisy lifted her nose from its inspection of Brooke’s car hood, swung her huge head between horse and car and then unceremoniously lumbered off in the direction of the open gate Brooke saw down the road. Without a single look back, Gunner Buckton followed his beast.

“Well,” Brooke said to the empty car, “if I’d have known yelling at it would have worked...” She called out a cheery “Thank you!” as she drove past Buckton while he swung down off the saddle, presumably to shut the gate behind Daisy.

He simply tipped his hat as she drove by, but when she checked her rearview mirror a few seconds later, he was still standing by the gate, staring at her little car as it hummed down the road.

She’d met the legendary Gunner Buckton Junior. Brooke didn’t know if that made things better or worse for the troubled relationship between that man and her boss. Right now the only thing she knew for certain was that it made her late.

* * *

Gunner shoved his saddle onto its stand in the horse barn tack room with a bit too much force. The action made his foreman, Billy Flatrock, look up from his work, one bushy eyebrow raised in inquiry. “What’s up with you?”

“You’ll never guess who Daisy introduced me to this afternoon.” Gunner took off his gloves and whacked them against his pant leg, raising up a cloud of yellow dust that swirled in the ribbons of slanted gold light coming through the barn windows.