Charlotte Carter - Montana Hearts

“Are they going to put in a feed lot here?”

The surveyor lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “No idea. I just measure and note, that’s all.”

“Have they gotten a permit already?” Kurt pressed. He hadn’t been notified by the authorities or read anything in the newspaper. Maybe it was still pending.

“Beats me.” The guy switched his ball cap so the visor was in the back and sighted his equipment toward his partner, who stood a couple hundred feet away.

If a feed lot so close to the Rocking R wasn’t properly drained, it could turn the nearby spring creek into a polluted garbage dump. Kurt’s herd wouldn’t be able to drink the water. He’d have to fence it off. Maybe even need to dig a new well if he wanted to keep cattle grazing this northern section.

Why on earth would Ezra sell or lease his land to an outfit like Western Region Cattle Feeding? And how could Kurt make sure the feeding operation was either stopped or forced to comply with environmental water quality rules? And monitored.

He wheeled Pepper toward home in a slow walk. Given the tension in his household—Beth on a razor edge of rebellion and his new housekeeper—and now the threat of a concentrated feeding operation butting up against his land, Kurt knew the summer was going to be filled with nothing but trouble.

To Sarah’s dismay, she’d learned that ranchers get up before dawn to start their day. She’d barely had a chance to dress before Kurt and Toby finished their breakfast and were out the door.

She cleaned up the dishes, then took a moment to sit at the kitchen table, drink a cup of tea and watch the eastern sky change from the pink of sunrise to the baby-blue of a summer day.

Beth came into the kitchen wearing a nice pair of designer jeans and a stretchy top that bared an inch or two of skin around her midsection. A little mature for a twelve-year-old, Sarah thought, but she didn’t say anything.

Without acknowledging Sarah’s presence, Beth dropped a couple of pieces of white bread into the toaster and found a jar of peanut butter in the cupboard.

“Good morning, Beth. Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Huh.”

“After I put on a load of wash—” which she had discovered in an overflowing laundry hamper “—and do a little dusting, I thought I might pull some weeds in the flower beds out front.”

“My mother took care of the flowers.” The toast popped up, and Beth spread peanut butter on each slice.

“It’s a shame to let the garden go. I’m sure the flowers were beautiful when your mother was alive.”

“I guess.” Beth took a bite of toast, then got out a pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass.

“I’d love to have you help me pull some weeds.”

“Can’t. I’m going to ride my bike into town. I’ll be home in time for supper.”

Beth’s casual announcement stopped Sarah in her mental tracks. “I thought I heard your father say you were grounded.”

She washed down the first piece of toast with a big gulp of juice. “Dad won’t care. He just said that ’cause Nana was so upset, having one of her stupid spells.”

Sarah had the niggling feeling that she was being conned by a budding expert. “Let’s check with your dad, okay?”

“He’s way out in the north pasture. There’s no way to reach him. And I’m tellin’ you, he won’t care.” She tossed her long hair behind her shoulder and started on the second piece of toast.

“Doesn’t he have a cell phone? We could call him.”

Beth stopped eating. Her gaze darted around the room, looking everywhere except right at Sarah.

“You don’t know anything about living on a ranch, do you?” she said in a disdainful way. “There are dead zones out here where you can’t get any cell service.”

“I saw you texting on your cell last night.”

Beth’s fair complexion bloomed with a spark of anger.

“That was here at the ranch. Not way off in the north section.”

“Well, then, we have a problem, don’t we.” Picking up her tea cup, Sarah walked over to the sink and set the cup down. “I can’t let you go anywhere unless I’m sure you have your father’s permission.”

Stunned, she widened her eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” she screeched.

Sarah winced. She really didn’t like confrontations. “No, I’m not, Beth. If there is no way to reach your father, then we’ll simply have to wait until he gets back home.”

“No way!”

Sarah knew her response wasn’t what Beth had hoped for. She was equally sure Kurt had grounded his daughter. Until she heard otherwise, she’d do whatever she could to keep Beth at home.

As calmly as possible, Sarah rinsed out her cup and set it on the drain board.

“You can’t do this to me,” Beth protested. “You’re not my mother.”

Sarah dried her hands on a paper towel. “Do you know where the furniture polish is kept?”

Making a growling sound like a angry bear, Beth threw up her hands. “Okay, you win. We’ll get Dad back here, and he’ll tell you that you’re not in charge of me.” She stormed toward the back door.

Not knowing what the girl was up to, Sarah followed her outside. The border collie she’d seen yesterday met them on the porch, his tail sweeping the air that still smelled of burned steak.

Beth stood in front of a large bronze gong hanging from an overhead beam. Fancy scrollwork made it look as though it had originally come from China.

“Hit this as hard as you can.” The muscle in Beth’s jaw flexed, her eyes narrowed as she handed Sarah the hammer. “He’ll hear it wherever he is. Then you’ll see.”

Using a gong to communicate seemed primitive to Sarah, but she gave it a solid whack. The metal vibrated, sending out waves of sound that echoed inside Sarah’s skull and started the dog howling.

The sound of the emergency gong rang out over the prairie.

Kurt froze in the saddle. Intended to warn of a grass fire, no one had used that gong in years. Not since his mother had knocked over a kerosene lamp and…

Digging in his heels, he spurred Pepper toward the ranch house. Had Sarah tried to barbecue something on the back porch again? Maybe Beth had been messing around with candles in her room and caught the curtains on fire.

Or maybe a tourist had tossed a cigarette butt out a car window into the drought-dry grass and started what could end in an inferno.

Grimly, he urged his horse to a gallop.

Fire. Always a dangerous threat but more so when you lived far from town with only a few nearby ranchers to help put out the flames.

As his horse raced across the rolling landscape, Kurt searched the horizon for any sign of smoke. Nothing. Not a single puff of smoke in sight.

Nerves bunched his shoulders. He gripped the reins so hard they nearly cut through his riding gloves into his palms. The horse’s ears were turned to listen for his commands, and he knew the animal’s eyes were wide with a fright that reflected his own fears.

If there was no smoke and no fire, what other emergency could there be? Any number of dangers existed on a ranch, from mountain lions and wolf attacks to someone falling out of the hay loft.

The ranch house came into sight. No smoke. No fire.

Two pickup trucks were roaring down the road toward the Rocking R. They’d heard the gong, too. And responded.

The volunteer fire truck from town wouldn’t be far behind them.

In ranch country, neighbors helped neighbors.

Kurt unlatched the final gate separating the grazing land from the ranch house and barns, and sped the remaining yards to the back of the house. He reined the lathered horse to a halt in front of Beth and Sarah.