Anger deflated, a little. “I can. I do. But—”
“The ranch and the resort are like you say.” Sam continued to sip his whisky. “They’re separate. Your grandmother was smart enough to see, all those years back, that your uncles weren’t going to be able to put in all the time and work needed to run a ranch of this size, and none of their boys—or girls”—he added with a glance at his wife—“showed any interest. So she worked up the dude ranch, saw how she could draw on that and keep the working ranch.”
He took his time, sipped his whisky. Not a person sitting at the table would have thought to interrupt.
“Then after I came into it, she put her head together with her mother and yours, and came up with big plans. No question we’ve got smart, forward-thinking women in this family, and we have two business enterprises that provide us with the life we want to live, in the place we want to live it. And they both honor your granddaddy’s memory. But they’re not just business enterprises, and we’re never going to forget that.”
“No, sir,” Bodine said. “I don’t forget that.”
“I know you don’t, though there are times I miss seeing you around, in the paddocks, in the stable, in the barn. A man can miss his girl.”
“Daddy.”
“He can miss her and be proud at the same time. What we can’t forget, and don’t, is what we have, what we’ve made—starting with your grandmother—is a community, and a family. Abe’s worried about his wife, and doing everything he can to take care of her—whether or not she wants it. And knowing Edda, she’s put up some fight over it. I don’t think he meant any disrespect to you by talking it out with Chase first.”
“He probably didn’t.” But Bodine still aimed a stare at Chase.
“I just talked to the man, and now I’ve told you what’s what. You just let me know what you decide.”
“I’ll do that.” She rose. “I’m going to take a walk, figure out how to handle all this.”
Rory waited until Bodine was safely out of earshot. “Jeez, what’s the big deal? Mucho sensitivo. It’s just—”
He broke off and withered under his mother’s stare. “Until you work in a man’s world without a penis, you can hush about it. You can think about that while you help Clementine clear and wash up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Within five minutes, Chase sat alone with his father at the table. “I just talked to the man,” Chase said again. “And I’m offering to let her have, if he’s agreeable, our best horseman—one we just acquired—for a solid four months.”
“It’s a balancing act, son. Women, business, family. It’s all a balancing act. How about you and me go out on the front porch, smoke a couple of cigars, and complain about women? Doing that now and again helps the balance.”
“I’ll get my coat.”
*
Bundled in her own coat, Bodine walked off the lingering mad in the cold, clear air. Overhead, the countless sweep of stars shimmered as pinprick lights in an indigo sky. The moon, nearly full, sailed—a round, white ship over quiet seas.
The air around her moved briskly, carrying the scent of pine and snow and animal. She heard a cow low, an owl call, saw the slinking shadow of one of the barn cats.
The two happy mutts, Clyde and Chester, raced around her for a while; then, since she didn’t seem interested in play, they raced off to find their own fun.
As the mad cleared, she used the room to lay out a plan for what to do next. She’d need to speak to Abe and Edda, and since her father was right about community and family, she needed to rid herself of resentment before she did. Once rid of it, she still needed to make it clear that the buck started and stopped with her.
She’d need to make one of the housekeeping staff temporary head. Otherwise, she’d end up dealing with the scheduling and minor issues every week. Potentially daily.
And she needed to prepare herself, to have another plan waiting in the event that two of her key people decided to retire altogether rather than come back.
The idea made her sad, just sad. Abe and Edda had been key staff at her grandmother’s early incarnation of the dude ranch, and had stuck with them through all of the changes, all of the expansions.
She could and would find qualified replacements, if necessary. But they wouldn’t be Abe and Edda, and for some reason, accepting that made her feel lonely as well as sad.
She turned toward the stables instead of the shack. Callen could wait a bit longer.
After unlatching the big door, she walked inside, inside the scents of horses, hay, manure, grain, liniment, and leather.
As she walked down the wide, slanted concrete, some equine heads on either side poked out from their stalls. Some blew a greeting, but she continued on where one was watching her, waiting for her.
“Hey there. There’s my boy.” She rubbed the cheeks of the Appaloosa she called Leo due to the leopard spots over his white hide.
He butted his head against her shoulder, looking at her with his sweet, fascinating blue eyes.
A man could miss his girl, she thought. A horse could miss his girl, too.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t been around much, I haven’t been paying attention. The last couple weeks…”
She shook her head, went inside the stall, took up a brush to run it over his flanks.
“No excuses. Not between us. You know what? Tomorrow we’ll ride to work. You can visit the resort horses for the day, and we’ll have a good, strong morning ride. And a good, strong ride home again tomorrow night. I’ve missed you, too.”
She pulled a carrot out of the pocket Leo was nibbling at. “You always know. Just don’t tell anybody.”
While he crunched, she laid her head on his neck. “I’ll figure it out, right? I’ve got it half figured already. I’d still like to boot Chase in the ass, but I’ve got it half figured.”
She gave Leo a couple of quick rubs. “I’ll see you in the morning. Bright and early, too.”
Since the idea of a good, strong ride pleased her, she wandered out of the stables, scratching a few more heads on the way, before aiming her steps toward the shack.
Small, rustic with its cedar shakes and little front porch, it stood a muscular stone’s throw from the main house, and an enthusiastic spit from the bunkhouse.
Originally it had been built with its peaked roof and square windows for the dude ranch. A few other cabins that once were scattered through the trees had been scrapped for supplies in the building of the resort. But they’d kept the shack, for the occasional overnight guest, for storage, as a very unofficial playhouse.
And now for Callen Skinner.
A horseshoe knocker graced the barn-style front door, but Bodine used her knuckles to knock while she watched the smoke pump out of the chimney on the bunkhouse side of the shack.
Callen pulled the door open, stood in the backwash of light. He said, “Howdy, neighbor.”
“Howdy back. Got a minute?”
“Got plenty of them. Did you eat yet?”
“Yeah, I just … Oh.” When she stepped in, she saw the plate on the table. “You’re eating. We can do this later.”