A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe

Chapter Six

“Might as well get it over with,” Hank told his father short minutes later. As the sun rose over the horizon, the two of them emerged from Hank’s pickup truck and strode toward the back. Hank opened the tailgate so they could get at the supplemental feed for his herd, and shot his father a knowing glance. “’Cause I know you didn’t come here just to say hello to Ally, see the new pups and help me tend my cattle.”

“You’re right.” Shane hefted a big bale of hay and carried it into the mesquite-edged pasture where the hundred cattle had weathered the cold and rain the night before. “I did want to talk to you in private.”

Hank cut the twine and separated the feed, scattering it about so the steers could get at it easily. “What about?”

The two of them got back in the truck and drove a little farther on before stopping and doing the same thing again.

“The word in town is that Corporate Farms is wooing Ally,” Shane stated.

Hank shrugged. “She’s talking to a Realtor about listing the property, too.”

His dad lifted a silver brow. “I thought you had a deal with her.”

I thought so, too. Which was what he got for letting the arrangement be as convenient as Ally had needed it to be, when he had volunteered to watch over the property for her last summer, in the wake of her dad’s death.

Hank went over to check the water supply. Ice had formed around the edges of the trough, so he broke it up with a hoe. “She agreed to let me run cattle here and live in the house, in exchange for my help tending to the ranch.” At the time it had seemed the perfect solution for both of them.

Shane studied the property with a horse rancher’s keen gaze. “She knew you were interested in buying it?”

“Eventually.” When I had the money. “Yes.” Hank carried another bundle of feed across the rain-soaked ground. “She also figured-rightly so-that I couldn’t afford it yet.”

Shane followed with another bundle. “I wish you had talked to me before you struck that deal,” he said with regret.

Hank’s irritation increased. Tired of weathering his father’s meddling in his affairs, he squared off with him. “We both know what would have happened if I had!”

“You’d be better off now,” his dad countered, his disapproval as evident as his need to help.

“I’d be better off if you and the rest of the family stopped trying to coddle me!” Acting as if he were some damned invalid, instead of a decorated ex-marine embarking on the next chapter of his life.

His father grimaced like the take-charge man he was. “We’re not doing that,” he argued.

Like hell they weren’t! “You’ve done nothing but that since Jo-anne’s death,” Hank countered.

Shane’s jaw set. “You fell apart.”

Hank turned his gaze away from the mounting concern in his dad’s eyes. “And I’ve long since put myself back together again.”

Shane sighed. Tried again. “The point is, son-”

“The point is,” he interrupted curtly, lifting a staying hand, “we shouldn’t be having this conversation. Not now. Not ever.”

ALLY WAS UPSTAIRS IN the sewing room when Hank and Shane returned.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know something had happened while they were gone. The two men appeared to be barely speaking as they parted company. Which was a surprise. Ally had thought the McCabes were a close-knit family through and through. Yet as Hank stood watching his father’s pickup disappear from view, he looked as tense and bereft as she had usually felt when dealing with her own parents.

Not that it was any of her business, she reminded herself sternly, returning to the cutting table.

Seconds later, she heard him come in.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door to his bedroom closed.

Fifteen minutes later, Hank emerged, looking freshly showered and cleanly shaven. He paused in the doorway of the sewing room. A smile quirked his lips when he glanced at the puppies snuggled together in the warming bed, with Duchess lying on the floor next to it.

An eyebrow lifted in silent inquiry.

Self-consciously, Ally explained, “I needed to do work up here, and I didn’t think I should leave them unattended so soon.”

Hank nodded, a knowing light in his midnight-blue eyes.

“By the way, the candy cane shaped coffeecake your mother sent over was absolutely delicious.” The festive gift had sported a flaky golden bread, cranberry-cherry filling and cream cheese frosting.

Hank folded his arms and propped one shoulder against the frame. “I’ll tell her you said so.” He nodded at the sophisticated ivory fabric she was measuring. “What are you doing here?”

Ally picked up the shears and began to cut. “Making new drapes for the downstairs windows, to dress up the space.”

He came closer, in a drift of sandalwood and leather cologne. “You know how to do that?”

Her gaze flicked over his nice-fitting jeans and navy corduroy shirt, then rose in a guilty rush. “My mother taught me how to sew when I was eight. I helped her make custom slipcovers and draperies.” And she needed to stop remembering what it had been like to be held in his arms, kissing him passionately.

Hank hooked his thumbs in the belt loops on either side of his fly. “I didn’t realize she had a business.”

Ally swallowed around the sudden parched feeling of her throat. “They needed the income she brought in to buy more land.”

His gaze roved her face, settling briefly on her mouth. A prickling, skittering awareness sifted through her. “And put you through college?” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Ally tensed and marked off another length. “I did that myself.”

Hank did a double take. “Seriously?”

Ally picked up her shears once again. She bent her head, concentrating on her cutting. “They didn’t want me to leave Laramie County. They would have preferred I stay on the ranch and build a life here.”

He came closer. “But you went anyway.”

She sighed. “Like I said, I was determined to do things my own way.” She pushed the bad memories aside and turned her attention back to him. “And speaking of parents…what’s going on with you and your dad?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “What do you mean?”

Ally eyed him pointedly. “I saw the two of you come back. Neither of you looked particularly happy.”

Hank shrugged and averted his gaze.

“Does the discord have something to do with the ranch?”

His expression darkened. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m not sure.” It was her turn to lift her shoulders. “I just do.”

Silence fell. Hank looked as if he was about to say something, but didn’t. The quiet continued, fraught with tension.

Aware this wasn’t the first time she’d been summarily cut out of a situation-her parents had done it all the time-Ally turned her attention back to her task and cut along the last line she had marked.

Her feelings were hurt, but she wasn’t sure why-it shouldn’t matter if Hank confided in her or not. She cleared her throat, and added with as much indolence as she could manage, “Anyway, if that’s all…”

“Actually-” Hank’s frown deepened “-it’s not. I’ve got something I need to do in Laramie.”

Could he be more vague?

Could she be more nosy?

Honestly! What was wrong with her today? Just because she and Hank had bonded a little over the birth of the litter, and exchanged one way-too-hot kiss, that was no reason to think they were involved in each other’s lives. Because they weren’t now, and definitely wouldn’t be once the ranch was sold!

“Can you watch over Duchess and the pups a little while longer?”

Trying to hide her disappointment at his sudden remoteness, Ally nodded. “Sure.”

And that, it seemed, was that.

“THERE’S NO WAY WE can give you a mortgage on Mesquite Ridge without at least ten percent down,” the president of Laramie Bank told Hank an hour later. “And given the fact we’re talking about a two and a half million dollar loan…” Terence Hall ran a hand over his close-trimmed beard.

Hank had already run the numbers. “I need two hundred and fifty thousand, cash.”

Terence rocked back in his chair. “Plus an application fee, closing costs. Money for the survey, inspection and title search. And a real estate sales commission if she lists with a broker, as she currently plans to do.”

The situation was getting worse by the minute, Hank thought, as he listened to the Christmas music playing in the lobby of the bank. Only there was no Santa Claus here. Only Ally Garrett, and Graham Penderson from Corporate Farms, who could easily become this year’s Grinch, by stealing the property out from under him.

Aware that his holiday spirit was fading as fast as his problems mounted, Hank decided to be straight with the most influential banker in the county. The word in the agricultural community was that if Terence couldn’t make it happen, no one could. “I’ve got only forty thousand saved.”

Terence rapped his pen on his desk. “Maybe you could convince Ms. Garrett to do some sort of land contract or lease-purchase agreement.”

Hank’s hand tightened on the brim of his Stetson. “I doubt it. Besides, even then I’d have only a hundred eighty days max-to come up with the rest of the cash, or forfeit everything I’ve already put in.”

On just the assumption this would work out as I hoped.

“Perhaps if you sell your herd…”

“I’d be all hat and no cattle, with no cash to replace ’em.”

“Sometimes there are sources for cash that aren’t readily thought of.”

Hank knew where this was heading. He’d already had one argument today with his dad. He wasn’t going to have another, with a banker. He lifted a palm and stood, not about to go down that road now. “Thanks for your time,” he said curtly. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Terence followed him to the door. “Maybe you should have another talk with Ms. Garrett,” he suggested hopefully.

As it happened, Hank planned to do just that.

THE ONLY PROBLEM WAS, when Hank got back to the ranch, a big Cadillac with a Corporate Farms logo was sitting in the driveway.

Frowning, he got out of his truck and walked inside.

Ally was standing next to a ladder in the living room, a spritz bottle in one hand, a putty knife in another. In worn jeans, an old Rice University T-shirt and sneakers, with her hair drawn into a clip, she looked younger-and more vulnerable than ever-as Graham Penderson harangued her.

“It’s a good offer. Better than you’d get if you went the traditional sale route.”

Snorting, Ally sent Graham a narrowed-eyed glance. “That’s ten percent less than the asking price suggested by Premier Realty.”

You go, girl, Hank thought, pleased to see her standing up to the pushy acquisition agent.

Penderson turned his back on Hank and continued his pitch in a you’d-be-crazy-not-to-accept-this-deal tone. “We subtracted out the real estate commission and other costs. You’d still get the same amount, only without all the hassle and expense of-if you’ll forgive my candor-renovating this dog of a house.”

It was also, Hank thought, the home in which Ally had grown up.

Not a smart move, criticizing it.

He looked over at her.

Ally’s face remained calm, her emotions-whatever they were-camouflaged. She climbed back down the ladder and wordlessly accepted the written offer Graham Penderson was holding out. With a forced smile, she walked over and put the papers on the scarred rolltop desk. “I’ll take that into consideration,” she stated cooly.

Graham Penderson did not seem to know when to quit. “If you sell to us,” he continued, “you won’t have to worry about updating anything on the property, since we intend to tear down all existing buildings, including the ranch house and barns, and build something much more utilitarian.”

Ally blinked.

She hadn’t been expecting that.

“That seems like a waste,” Hank interjected, in an effort to buy Ally time to pull her thoughts together.

The agent swung around to him. “It’s good business,” he countered matter-of-factly. He turned back to Ally. “The offer is good for forty-eight hours,” he said impatiently, holding his Resistol at his side.

“So you said.” Ally ignored the question in Hank’s eyes and gestured toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Penderson, I have work to do.”

The smart move, Hank noted, would have been to take the hint. The agent did no such thing.

“Not if you sell to Corporate Farms. Then, all you have to do is sign on the dotted line, take the money and run.”

Clearly unimpressed, Ally stared down the CF representative. “So you also said.”

Penderson stepped even closer. “I’d hate to see you lose out on what has to be the answer to your prayers.”

Ally remained grimly silent. Hank figured this was his cue, and walked toward the agent. “I believe the lady asked you to leave.”

Penderson turned. Whatever he was about to say was lost as Hank clapped a firm hand on the small man’s shoulder, physically propelling him across the living room, through the dingy foyer and all the way to his car. Hank waited until Penderson drove off, then went back inside. Ally was back on the ladder, spritzing a piece of the loose horse-and-hound wallpaper. If she resented his macho interference, she wasn’t showing it.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

Ally set the spray bottle on the platform at the top of the stepladder. Stubbornly pressing her lips together, she eased the putty knife beneath the paper. “Why wouldn’t I be?” The wallpaper made a ripping sound as it separated from the ancient drywall.

Hank stepped closer. He grabbed a piece of dampened paper and pulled it off the wall. “Because that jerk was giving you a hard time.”

Ally came back down the ladder, picked it up and moved it another two feet to the left. Resentment glimmered in her green eyes. “I was handling him.”

Hank stood with legs braced, as if for battle. “You may think you were.”

She stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Here was his chance to bring up what he’d been reluctant to discuss before. “Corporate Farms is more than just an outfit that buys ranches and farms nationwide, or a firm that is angling to create the largest single ranch in the nation. It has a reputation for ruining communities faster than you can imagine.”

Ally sobered. “How?”

“Well, first they come in with a lowball offer. Like what just happened. If they fail on the first try-and often they don’t-they up the ante. And they keep upping it until they get what they want. In fact, they’re happiest when they do have to pay more than the assessed value of a property, because that drives up the prices of all the neighboring ranches and farms, and with that, the tax values. A few acquisitions by CF coupled with a bad year agriculturally, and before you know it the neighbors can’t pay their taxes.”

“Go on,” Ally said quietly, suddenly a captive audience.

Hank sighed heavily. “So then Corporate Farms comes in again, and buys the properties in distress, this time for much less than what they’re worth. The point is, an outfit like CF has vast resources and can move awfully fast. You may not be prepared for how fast. Or the kind of temptation they can exert.” His eyes hardened. “Especially since word on the street is they want to eventually buy up every single ranch property in Laramie County and turn it into one big entity.”

Ally regarded him calmly. “So in other words, I shouldn’t sell to them because they’re bad guys. And they’re likely to put everyone else around here out of business if I do.”

“Exactly,” he muttered.

“Which is why your dad was here this morning.”

Her insight caught Hank off guard. “That was part of it,” he allowed cautiously.

She stepped closer. “And the rest?”

Hank’s jaw set. “It’s not relevant to this.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Why don’t you let me decide that? Seriously. You want me to trust you? Then you need to reveal more about what’s going on with your situation, too!”

Fair enough. “My parents think I need their help to succeed.”

Ally let out a disbelieving laugh. “You? The guy who was Mr. Everything in high school? Student body president, star athelete, class heartthrob-”

Hank focused on the most important of the litany. “Class heartthrob?” he repeated. Was that how she’d seen him back then?

Ally flushed. “Never mind. Forget I said that.” She drew a breath and settled on a step of the ladder, turning businesslike once again. “Back to your very implausible story.”

Hank’s gut twisted with the irony. “It’s true,” he said, just as quietly. He edged close enough to rest an elbow on the top rung of the ladder. “My parents think I flipped out after Jo-anne’s death. That was why I joined the marines and stayed in for ten years.”

Ally tilted her head to look up into his face. “Was it the reason?”

His voice was edgy with tension as he answered, “I admit I was depressed and angry after she died. You can’t not be if one of your loved ones dies in something as senseless and unexpected as a terrorist attack. But…” He paused reflectively, then shrugged. “I got over it.”

The tenderness in Ally’s eyes encouraged him to dig a little deeper into his feelings. “I grew up, I guess, came to accept that bad things happen in life to everyone. And what counts is your ability to pick yourself up and make something good happen-even in the worst circumstances-and move on. And that’s what my career in the marines was all about. I helped save a lot of lives. Now I’m out…and ready to move on with the next chapter of my life.”

Ally stood and moved away from the ladder once again. “But your mom and dad can’t accept that.”

He watched her amble back to the wall where she had been working, and spritz an area within reach.

Hank picked up a scraper and walked over to help. “My parents blame themselves for my taking off in the first place. They think they failed me somehow, after Jo-anne died. They don’t want to be caught short again. And they’re afraid if this ranching thing doesn’t work out, I’m going to leave again.”

For a second, a flash of alarm appeared in her eyes. “Will you?”

Was it possible, Hank wondered, she wanted him to stay around, as much as he was beginning to want her to do the same? “No. Texas is my home and always will be. That’s one thing I figured out while I was overseas.”

She scowled at the piece of wall covering she was working on, then tilted her head up to his. “When you say Texas,” she murmured, looking at him from beneath her fringe of thick lashes, “do you mean Laramie, or anywhere in the state?”

“I got a hundred head of cattle, and I have to find somewhere of my own to graze them.” At the moment, Mesquite Ridge was the only ranch available for lease or sale in Laramie County.

“So if it’s not here…?”

Hank studied the way she was biting into her lower lip. “It’ll be somewhere.”

“That’s all very interesting.” She ripped off the stubborn piece of wallpaper with more force than necessary and dropped it into the trash can. Then she whirled around and chided, “But it doesn’t explain why you just acted so protectively toward me.”

He’d been wondering when she would bring that up.

Hank refused to apologize for giving Graham Penderson the old heave-ho. “I wouldn’t think I’d have to explain that,” he answered drily.

She lifted a blond brow. “Apparently,” she said, perfectly mimicking his deadpan tone, “you do.”

Was it possible? Was he really that hard to read that Ally had no clue how he was beginning to feel about her?

“Then how about this for an explanation?” Hank said, leaning in for a kiss.