Mary Brady - Winning Over the Rancher

He handed her a knitted cap, one like her grandmother might have made for her, with a fluffy yarn ball on top, and then he slid on his hat—a Stetson, that’s what they wore in one of Chad’s movies anyway.

She put on the hat he had given her and tugged it down until it pressed her hair snugly against her ears. Then he led her outside, where she got a spectacular view of the lay of the ranch buildings. To her left and back at the edge of a stand of pine trees sat a pair of log houses. His brothers’ houses, she assumed. Straight in front of her, but farther away, sat a barn and several out-buildings. Beyond the barn she could see corrals where horses were eating from a trough. Farther out were open snow-patched areas of what she supposed were grasslands, and of course, mountain peaks glistened in the distance.

Doyle land spread out beyond fifty-seven hundred acres. After leaving the rich farmland of southwestern Wisconsin that sold by the expensive acre and the precious square footage measured out in inches in Southern California, she wasn’t even sure she could conceptualize that much land owned by one family.

The seven cabins she would build for the Doyles would dovetail nicely with the two already there. Though the new ones would have more glass and decking, the existing ones had the charm of being more weathered and rustic-looking.

A cabins-in-the-woods kind of thing.

When they filled the cabins for the three to four prime months out of the year, they should do well.

“Less than a quarter mile beyond two small houses is where the cabins will be built,” Baylor said after she had spent several minutes gaping. “Ready?”

“Yes, I am.”

Baylor held the passenger-side door and she climbed up into the warmth of the truck. Then he jogged around and jumped in the driver’s side, and when he did, the truck got even warmer inside. Hormones. Had to be hormones.

“Thanks for having the truck so cozy.”

“That would have been one of my brothers, most likely prodded by one wife or the other.”

“I knew I was going to like Amy and Holly.”

“They’re like sisters. It would be a shame for them to have to split up and go separate ways.”

“This project means a lot more than income to your family.”

“It does.”

He took a hard grip on the wheel as he steered away from the big ranch house. “Should I get in my car and run away before I get in to deeply?”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

The brim of his hat shadowed his features and she realized she really knew little about Montana and less about the Doyle family. She might have done it again—rushed into something without enough thought.

I’ll make it work.

“Hey—” she poked him on the hard muscle of his upper arm “—your Sheriff Potts saw me at my worst and he sent me back here instead of running me out of town. Give me a peek at what’s going on, I can take it.”

He nudged his hat back on his forehead as if it would help him think better.

“Ranching doesn’t support families the way it used to. Income has gone down, but more importantly the cost of living has gone up. We’ve been able to keep going because the largest part of the income stays in the family. Mostly we’re our own ranch hands. We hire on during the heaviest part of calving and when it’s time to shift cattle around to different feeding grounds. We let out some logging to a small local company—controlled, environmentally friendly logging that brings in a bit of income.”

“And that’s not enough.” She had asked for the truth and just because it was starting to scare her, she wasn’t going to back away.

“It was as long as there weren’t any kids’ futures to worry about.”

“So you decided to try for the tourist population.”

“We started a few years ago and it’s been popular. We’ve had a waiting list every season. At the Shadow Range we provide several things not everyone else this far out does. Satellite TV and internet, granted both are intermittent depending on the reception, but it’s there enough of the time to satisfy all but some of the teenagers. The houses have electricity, gas and indoor—”

“Plumbing? One of my favorites.”

His grin warmed her, a lot more than it should have.

“Then we have features most people’s homes don’t—fireplaces with an endless supply of wood on the porch, daily wildlife viewing and, although you might hear a train whistle in the distance from time to time, there isn’t even a whisper of highway or freeway traffic. And if you want it, you can have maid service and meals included.”

“Roughing it the way city people like it. I have to tell you, I’m one of them. Give me a good old pillow-top mattress and a dishwasher any day.” But she was finding out in detail she didn’t have to have either of those.

“We add horseback riding, fishing, guided trail walks and trips down the river on pontoon boats.”

She tried to imagine what it would be like to be a guest at the ranch. What would she want? A picture of Baylor and her floating down a lazy river in a pontoon boat resting in each other’s arms popped into her head. Her eyes sprang wide. She sat up and leaned forward as if interested in something outside the window. Talk about whoa.

“What are you looking at?”

“I was wondering…” She paused so she could quickly make something up because she sure as heck wasn’t going to tell him what she was thinking. “Does the nonranching part get to all of you?”

He was silent while he bounced the truck over the uneven road, out beyond where the two smaller houses sat and onto the edge of a small meadow.

“From time to time, but keeping the ranch for everyone’s future is more important than not washing someone’s dirty sheets. And we get to help the poor city folk get a glimpse of what a really rich life is like. You know, dirt under your fingernails, getting stiff from being in a saddle too long, sleeping out under the stars with the snakes.”

“You make it sound as nice here as I imagined it would. I might have to rent out one of the cabins we’re building—but there’d be no snakes for me, please.” She wondered what he’d say if he knew how little she was kidding about renting one of the cabins, reptiles or not.

“The wooded area over there…” He’d stopped the truck, and pointed out into the distance.

“Wait. Where do you put the tourists? Aren’t those two houses for Holly and Amy and their families?”

“In the spring, while Lance and Seth are busy calving and doing ranch work, Holly and Amy are busy packing up to move out of their homes and into the big house. We all live together in the late spring and s ummer. There are seven bedrooms and it’s, well, we’ll call it cozy.”

“It’s good you all like each other. Maybe we should build more cabins to start with and that might give Holly and Amy a break next spring.”

“If we build them all at once, you can invite all your California friends who are looking for a break from the crowd.”

Bam. A reality blast thrown in her face. All her friends?

It was bad enough to know most of her so-called friends had deserted her, but to have to admit it to a stranger—a customer—pointed out a far too dismal future. Blah.

BAYLOR WONDERED WHAT he said that made her face go all long and thoughtful, and then he reminded himself it didn’t matter.

He knew himself well enough to know KayLee Morgan could be dangerous territory. Dangerous because he couldn’t help himself. Rescuing damsels in distress had been his thing since he kept the bullies in grade school from picking on Abby Fairbanks when he was nine and she was twelve. But damsel rescuing had to take a second seat to this business deal. Rescuing this one could put his family’s welfare in jeopardy.