There was one car in the Bureau of Land Management parking lot when Libby pulled in. Ellen Vargas’s highly polished Lexus SUV. Libby parked at the opposite end of the lot and sat for a moment, staring at her boss’s Lexus and wondering how long it would be before she came to work and the damned thing wouldn’t be there.
It was no secret that Ellen Vargas would move on as soon as she could, following an upwardly mobile career track in government. Libby only hoped Ellen didn’t do too much damage before that happened.
The building was dimly lit when Libby walked in, since Francine, the receptionist, wasn’t at work yet. The only bright light spilled out of Ellen’s open office door. Libby would have loved to tiptoe by, but it wasn’t her style, so she said, “Morning,” as she passed on the way to her office.
“Good morning, Libby. Do you have a minute?”
Wonderful.
Libby reversed course and stepped into Ellen’s office. When Glen had been there, the manager’s office had been pleasantly cluttered. Now it looked like a page out of House Beautiful. A vase with a single exotic flower stood on the corner of the government-issue desk, making Libby wonder where on earth Ellen had managed to find an orchid in Wesley—if it was, indeed, a real orchid and not a silk replica. But if it was a silk replica, it was very realistic…. Libby had an urge to poke at it, to see if it was genuine, but she didn’t think Ellen would appreciate that. Maybe she’d come back later, while her boss was mustering the troops.
“How long have you been a wild horse specialist, Libby?”
Ellen already knew the answer, just as she knew everything about everyone who worked for her. She’d done her homework. But since she asked, Libby answered, thus demonstrating that she was a team player, cooperative, responsive and accountable.
“Three years.”
“And before that you were a range conservationist?”
“Yes.” She’d hired on as a range con, never suspecting that the wild horse position—her dream job—would open up four years later, right when she was poised to slip into the position. Sometimes things did fall into place.
“You seem to enjoy your work.”
“Yes.”
She would also enjoy it if Ellen got to the point. The woman’s highly polished gold-rimmed glasses glinted as she tilted her head slightly. Behind the glasses her eyes were perfectly made-up. Liner, shadow, mascara. How was it that she could apply cosmetics so well, so early in the morning? Libby could barely see when she got up, much less apply eyeliner with precision. And she could only imagine what she’d have to go through to make her long curly hair approach Ellen’s blond lacquered perfection.
“I’ve skimmed the past few years’ records and—” Ellen tapped her pencil on the desk “—I don’t understand the procedure with these animals that people gain title to months after the official adoption period has passed.”
“Those are the leppies.”
The glasses slid down Ellen’s nose a fraction of an inch as she dropped her chin. “The leppies?”
“Orphans.”
“I see.”
But she didn’t see—it was obvious. And she would be looking into the matter—equally obvious. This was what happened when people from Florida were put in charge of operations in the Nevada desert and vice versa—there was a huge learning curve and an enhanced propensity for poor decision making. When Ellen’s ego was factored in … Oh, yes. This was going to be a fine year.
“There are people who will take in orphans caught in the gathers and care for them. In return they get title to the foals once they’re old enough to freeze-brand.”
“And they pay nothing.”
“Do you have any idea what mare-milk replacer costs?”
“Is this common practice?”
“It is here.”
Ellen inhaled in a way that indicated perhaps she’d heard those words too often since she’d come to work in the Wesley field office. “All right. Thank you for explaining. We’ll meet again more formally after I’ve had a chance to go over all the files.”
“Just tell me when.” Libby patted the door frame and then escaped. “Sheesh,” she muttered as she unlocked the office she shared with Stephen, the range con who’d taken her place when she became a wild horse specialist.
She sat at her desk without bothering to turn on the lights and stared at the blank computer screen, surprised to realize that even though she should have been steaming after the conversation with Ellen, she was wondering, instead, just how long Kade would be in Otto. How long it’d be until she ran into him. And why she, who generally welcomed confrontation, didn’t feel quite ready for that day.
KADE STEPPED OUT of the living quarters of his horse trailer, which was parked next to the ancient stone barn, and started across the weed-choked driveway to the house. Three nights on the property and he still couldn’t bring himself to sleep in his old bed. He didn’t know if he ever would.
The sun was barely over the mountains and he had a full day ahead of him in the house he hated. But it was also his daughter’s ninth birthday, so at least he could end the day on a positive note by calling her and seeing how she liked the present he’d mailed a few days ago.
He crossed the weathered porch, which echoed under his boots, and opened the kitchen door. Then he stood for a moment, one hand on the worn doorjamb as he steeled himself for the day ahead, taking in the scarred tile floor and the decrepit kitchen appliances. The big enamel sink, where he’d washed a million dishes while his father yelled at him. The fridge that contained who knew what.
No one had come in to clean after his father had died. There’d been no funeral, no memorial, no will. And since the property had been in legal limbo at the time, Kade had made the final arrangements over the phone. It had seemed cold, but it was what his father had wanted. No funeral. No contact with his son.
Even when Kade had become a world champion bronc rider, his father had wanted nothing to do with him. And now Kade wanted nothing to do with anything that reminded him of his father—including his father’s ranch.
But he had tons of work ahead of him before he could sell. As Marvin the Realtor had pointed out when Kade had first contacted him, ramshackle houses, sagging fences and weedy pastures were not all that easy to market. Marvin might be new in the real-estate business, but he recognized the obvious.
Kade stepped into the kitchen. Number one, the fridge, which he’d avoided for the first few days while he’d concentrated on the other rooms. One look inside and he resigned himself to buying a new one. Not only was the appliance more than twenty years old, it was filled with an assortment of overgrown and dried-up … stuff that definitely qualified as biohazards. He shut the door, considered duct-taping it shut so that whatever was inside wouldn’t come creeping out during the night, and made arrangements over the phone for a new one.
By the time he was done, his gut was at boot level, but Marvin had also said that showing a house without decent appliances was not a smart idea. Trouble was, right now he didn’t have a lot of money. And what he did have was dwindling fast.
Zero had promised to call if he heard of any work, when Kade had finally gotten hold of him the night before, but there was nothing at the moment. It was kind of the way Kade’s luck had been running for the past five or six years, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.
Cleaning went better while he was focused on his lack of finances. The memories didn’t bite at him every time he opened a door or found something that reminded him of his teen years. He still hadn’t ventured into his dad’s room, but he’d pretty well gutted the living room and kitchen. He had his dad’s stock trailer loaded with stuff that he would take to the dump or to Goodwill. He didn’t want any reminders. He just