Diana Palmer - Diana Palmer Christmas Collection - The Rancher / Christmas Cowboy / A Man of Means / True Blue / Carrera's Bride / Will of Steel / Winter Roses

“I’m sorry about your rooster problems,” Morie told him with a gentle laugh. “Believe me, we can understand. My poor sister-in-law has fits with ours.”

“I like Bodie,” he said, smiling. “Cane sure seems different these days.”

“He is. He’s back in therapy, he’s stopped smashing bars and he seems to have settled down for good. Bodie’s wonderful for him. She and Cane have had some problems, but they’re mostly solved now,” she said. She smiled secretly. “Actually, Bodie and I are going to have a lot more in common for the next few months.”

Cort was quick. He glanced at her in the semidarkness of the front porch, with fireflies darting around. “A baby?”

She laughed with pure delight. “A baby,” she said, and her voice was like velvet. “I only found out a little while ago. Bodie found out the day you showed up.” She sighed. “So much happiness. It’s almost too much to bear. Mal’s over the moon.”

“Is it a boy or a girl? Do you know yet?”

She shook her head. “Too early to tell. But we’re not going to ask. We want it to be a surprise, however old-fashioned that might be.”

He chuckled. “I’m going to be an uncle. Wow. That’s super. Have you told Mom and Dad?”

“Not yet. I’ll call Mom tonight, though.”

“She’ll be so excited. Her first grandchild.”

Morie glanced at him. “You ever going to get married?” she asked.

“Sure, if Odalie ever says yes.” He sighed. “She was warming up to me there just for a while. Then that Italian fellow came along and offered her voice training. He’s something of a legend among opera stars. And that’s what she wants, to sing at the Met.” He grimaced. “Just my luck, to fall in love with a woman who only wants a career.”

“I believe her mother was the same way, wasn’t she?” Morie asked gently. “And then she and Cole Everett got really close. She gave up being a professional singer to come home and have kids. Although she still composes. That Wyoming group, Desperado, had a major hit from a song she wrote for them some years ago.”

“I think she still composes. But she likes living on a ranch. Odalie hates it. She says she’s never going to marry a man who smells like cow droppings.” He looked at one of his big boots, where his ankle was resting on his other knee in the rocking chair. “I’m a rancher, damn it,” he muttered. “I can’t learn another trade. Dad’s counting on me to take over when he can’t do the work anymore.”

“Yes, I know,” she said sadly. “What else could you do?”

“Teach, I guess,” he replied. “I have a degree in animal husbandry.” He made a face. “I’d rather be shot. I’d rather let that red-feathered assassin loose on my nose. I hate the whole idea of routine.”

“Me, too,” Morie confessed. “I love ranching. I guess the drought is giving Dad problems, too, huh?”

“It’s been pretty bad,” Cort agreed. “People in Oklahoma and the other plains states are having it worse, though. No rain. It’s like the Dust Bowl in the thirties, people are saying. So many disaster declarations.”

“How are you getting around it?”

“Wells, mostly,” he said. “We’ve drilled new ones and filled the tanks to the top. Irrigating our grain crops. Of course, we’ll still have to buy some feed through the winter. But we’re in better shape than a lot of other cattle producers. Damn, I hate how it’s going to impact small ranchers and farmers. Those huge combines will be standing in the shadows, just waiting to pounce when the foreclosures come.”

“Family ranches are going to be obsolete one day, like family farms,” Morie said sadly. “Except, maybe, for the big ones, like ours.”

“True words. People don’t realize how critical this really is.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “That’s why we have the National Cattleman’s Association and the state organizations,” she reminded him. “Now stop worrying. We’re going fishing tomorrow!”

“Really?” he asked, delighted. “Trout?”

“Yes. The water’s just cold enough, still. When it heats up too much, you can’t eat them.” She sighed. “This may be the last chance we’ll get for a while, if this heat doesn’t relent.”

“Tell me about it. We hardly had winter at all in Texas. Spring was like summer, and it’s gone downhill since. I’d love to stand in a trout stream, even if I don’t catch a thing.”

“Me, too.”

“Does Bodie fish?”

“You know, I’ve never asked. We’ll do that tomorrow. For now,” she said, rising, “I’m for bed.” She paused and hugged him. “It’s nice to have you here for a while.”

“For me, too, little sis.” He hugged her back, and kissed her forehead. “See you in the morning.”

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