Stone-faced, he gave only a curt nod.
The head-on collision between his brother Landon’s pickup and an eighteen-wheeler had made sad, local headlines. A freak accident, both Landon and his other brother, Tom, had died instantly, as had the other driver. Folks said the resulting fiery explosion had echoed for miles. Investigating authorities never discovered what made Landon’s truck cross the center divider. Authorities guessed he’d been reaching for one of his ever-present cigarettes. Or possibly stretching down to the cell phone kept on the floor between the two seats.
Lucy hadn’t met Tom or Landon. The boys were away during her short stay at the ranch. But she knew they’d been well liked.
“As a result, you now hold full title to the Lazy S, right?” She glanced around the room. “I don’t suppose you ever expected to, with two older brothers who would have had first claim here.”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Rusty, I told you when I called I have money, and it’s true. My life hasn’t been terribly...eventful,” she said, awkward yet determined to get through this, “but I did get married.”
She saw his eyebrows arch, though she didn’t blame him for his surprise. She wasn’t any great catch. At least that’s what Kenneth had always enjoyed saying.
“Well, a year ago, my husband passed away—” she forced herself to stare Rusty straight in the eyes “—leaving me a wealthy widow.”
His gaze drifted away and his expression became thoughtful. Rubbing his chin, he said, “I see.”
Probably not. He probably saw only what he wanted to, but she needed to press on. With uncharacteristic boldness, she blurted, “I want to purchase the Lazy S.”
“Purchase it?” He stared at her. “The whole place?” His pitying glance raked her. “I thought maybe you just wanted to lease a couple of acres, maybe run a few horses or build a cabin. The Lazy S comprises several thousand acres of prime grazing land. We have water rights to the creek, twelve hundred head of mother cows and as many calves, a hundred and fifty horses and dozens of blooded bulls. The property alone is worth a small fortune.”
Casually he tossed out a figure, let it hover in the air between them like an alien spacecraft.
Lucy did not blink.
He studied her face. After a moment, disbelief gave way to dawning awareness. “You’ve got that much?”
Again, she merely kept her gaze steady and waited for him to draw his own conclusions. The spacecraft vanished, left only the trailing vapor of Rusty’s incredulity.
Taking off his hat, he stabbed stiff fingers through his thick hair. It was brown, as she’d thought, the deep rich color of brewed coffee. After a moment he let out a long, slow breath. She could feel his shock and sense his struggle to assimilate her changed status in life.
Lounging back in his chair, he stacked his booted feet atop a low file cabinet. “Well, that’s something. Lucy, I guess you’ve done all right for yourself.”
“It wasn’t me,” she corrected him quickly. “I didn’t do anything to earn it. It was my husband’s—his commercial real estate business.”
“But it’s yours now.”
“Yes.” She shifted uncomfortably. “But I didn’t—that is—” She caught herself. It was not part of her plan to explain every single thing to him. She cleared her throat. “Well, will you sell?”
Dropping his boots to the wooden floor with a thud, he got abruptly to his feet. He snatched up his hat, jammed it on his head and pulled it low across his eyes. With his big palms splayed over the desk, he leaned toward her. “Not if you had ten million, Lucy. Not twenty. Maybe from your rich sugar daddy you learned you can buy most things. But not everything. Not the Lazy S.” Straightening, he took swift strides away from her. “Thanks for coming. You probably won’t want to spend the night after all. It was...interesting seeing you again.”
“Wait,” she cried. Now she’d gone and done it. She’d insulted his masculine pride. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” But he was already pacing through the living room toward the front door. Hurrying after him, she caught her foot on a table leg and stumbled, nearly falling. He didn’t turn.
“Rusty,” she said, “I’m not trying to put you out of your family home.”
At the front door Rusty kept walking. “Sure sounds like it.”
Outside, afternoon sunlight momentarily blinded her, though the bright rays offered no warmth. Cold fall air bit at her exposed throat, numbed her fingers. “No...you don’t understand.” He was halfway to the barn. “Stop, Rusty, please,” she said again. “There’s more. I don’t want you to leave the ranch. I want you to stay on.”
In the shadows of the great barn, he slowed. He turned to face her, hands on hips. “Beg pardon?”
Reaching him, she knew she was wringing her hands but was powerless to stop. “I know about your financial troubles, Rusty. I know that before their deaths your brothers heavily mortgaged this place. Your law career in San Francisco was successful and you’ve made a good living, but it’s not enough to put the ranch in the black.”
His face hardened. “How do you know all that?”
Apologetically she said, “I’ve got my own lawyers. You know they can find out anything.”
With a snort he pivoted and disappeared into the barn.
She followed. Coming out of direct sunlight, she found it dark inside, and for a moment could hardly see. The air was cooler and full of the smell of alfalfa hay and animals. She wrapped her arms about her middle and suppressed a shiver. Long banks of stalls with horses inside, a tack room that held halters and bridles and work saddles and a grooming area took up the big barn.
She found him pulling on heavy work gloves and standing beside stacks of baled hay. “I’ll pay whatever price you ask, Rusty. I need the ranch. I... I need you.”
At this last he paused and gave her a slow up-anddown perusal. “For what, Lucy?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice. “What do you need me for?”
Groping for courage, she deliberately stiffened her spine. “To manage the property, of course. To direct employees, make business decisions, buy livestock—I don’t know. For all of what’s needed. I...I don’t know the first thing about running a cattle ranch.”
He glanced derisively at her sling-backed pumps. “No kidding.”
Shivers began to tremble through her. She couldn’t back down now; he had to be made to understand. “I don’t know much about ranching, Rusty. But I do know one thing. The time I spent here was the best of my life. I need this place.” She gestured around. “It sounds crazy, but...I need that big old friendly ranch house. I need the smell of horses, hot from a run. I need familiar people around me. I...need the oak tree in the meadow.”
As he looked into her eyes she wondered if he understood her. She wondered if he remembered their aftemoon in the tree together—that day so long ago when she’d been weeping because her mother had declared that she found horses boring and cattle smelly. She was getting a divorce as soon as she could hunt down an attorney. She was bored, bored, bored—not least of all with her husband, Howard Sheffield, the “unsophisticated, countrified bumpkin” she had married in a temporary fit of Las Vegas-inspired insanity.
“We’ll be leaving the Lazy S,” Lucy’s mother had announced to her, “first thing in the morning!”
The memory sprang alive in Lucy’s mind, of her heartache and then of seeking solace high up in the tree, its shielding branches her only comfort. The scene was so tangible in her mind she fancied she could almost reach out and touch that sunset’s