An Unlikely Rancher. Roz Fox Denny
was exhausted from the long drive and the heat. And admittedly unsettled by the news that Oscar Martin was gone and hadn’t told her he’d be leaving and she’d be plunged into ranching straightaway. Thank heaven, he’d left her with someone to help.
“No problem. I’ll mark where you’re going on this map. Your property isn’t too far off the main highway. It’s about four miles out of town.”
“And there’s a rental home?” she suddenly thought to ask. If Oscar Martin hadn’t told her he was leaving, what else hadn’t he told her? “Here in town, correct? And it’s occupied?”
“Yes.”
Well, that was a relief, anyway.
“Belonged to Oscar’s great-aunt,” Bud continued. “When she passed on, he elected to keep it for added income. The house sits about here.” He pointed to a square on the map. “The address is on the deeds in your packet.” He drew an X approximately two blocks into the square. “It’s currently rented by a nice young fella who lived here as a boy. He returned a few months ago to open a business.”
Bud stood and went to the window to peer out.
“I ’spect you just missed him. Before you came in, I saw his pickup parked outside the bank.”
Relieved to hear that her renter was nice, Jenna thanked the Realtor for his help and guided Andee out.
“Mommy, I’m hot,” Andee complained as Jenna unlocked the SUV.
It was a good thing Jenna had stocked a cooler with ice and water at the motel that morning. She opened a bottle and passed it to the girl. “We need to remember to drink more, sweetie. It’s much drier here.”
“Why?”
“I suppose because there’s no ocean nearby.”
Andee accepted that answer and buckled herself into her kid seat in the back.
After a brief check of the map, Jenna set out.
It took her less than fifteen minutes to find the rutted lane leading to the ranch.
Her first glimpse of the rambling two-story house was a letdown. It wasn’t as white as it had looked in the photos. The porch didn’t run all the way across the front. And the evergreens, maybe spruce, which she had thought shaded the house, were brown. Covered in dust, she guessed, squinting against the hot wind blowing the dust through her open window.
She shut the window and climbed out of the SUV, taking in the tufts of grass in the yard as she opened Andee’s door. She couldn’t really call the grass a lawn.
She had wanted so much for this life-changing move to New Mexico to be exactly what she and her daughter needed. Her family had told her that she didn’t know what she was doing. And she’d blithely argued that she’d done her research.
Nothing in her research had prepared her for what she was seeing now. And maybe that was why the previous owner had left town on the quiet.
There was more “lawn” evident in some of the pens that ran parallel to the highway, which was separated from her property by a strip of land and a perimeter road Jenna hoped didn’t get much traffic.
Groups of gangly birds were huddled under canvas-topped awnings. Since the dry breeze took her breath away, Jenna didn’t blame the ostriches for seeking the least little bit of shade. If Oscar Martin had a manager, there was no sign of him—or any living human being, for that matter.
She helped Andee down and they went into the house, where a second wave of fatigue swept over Jenna. It was only marginally cooler inside, and yet the inspector she’d hired through the Realtor had said the house had swamp coolers. Of course, she knew swamp coolers weren’t air conditioners and they worked better if a couple of windows were cracked open. It was at least reassuring that she could hear the sound of a motor running somewhere.
She had promised to call Melody the minute they arrived. But knowing that her sister and Rob insisted she was making a bad decision—and worried they were right—she decided to wait until she was settled in.
She glanced out the living room window and saw the moving van lumbering toward the house.
Good. A reprieve.
After telling the movers where she wanted her furniture and boxes to go, she and Andee went to unload the SUV. On her second trip, while her daughter remained inside unpacking her stuffed animals, the drone of an airplane directly overhead made Jenna pause. Unable to shade her eyes because she had both arms filled with clothes on hangers, she squinted to scan the sky.
She was surprised to see a small red-and-white plane flying incredibly low. So low, her heart skipped a beat. It swooped over the ostrich pens and for a moment blocked the sun, casting a hulking shadow.
Tearing her eyes from the plane, Jenna saw spindly-legged birds bolt from under the canopies and run awkwardly to the far end of the enclosure. The plane’s shadow followed, causing birds to bump into fences and one another. Then the plane made a right turn and headed for a low rise Jenna thought probably marked the edge of her property.
She held her breath and waited for the sound of a crash. Nothing.
“Mom,” Andee called from the doorway.
“I’ll be there in a minute, honey.”
At the fence, she had no idea what she should do to settle the agitated flock. Thankfully, before she could come up with a plan, they calmed themselves and wandered back to the shade.
Since she hadn’t heard a boom, Jenna assumed the plane must have landed. She had no idea she’d bought property near an airport. That very notion unnerved her.
“Mommy, are the ostriches okay?” Andee asked, appearing at her side.
“I think so.” Turning to go into the house, Jenna muttered, “That plane shouldn’t have flown so low.”
She watched her daughter carefully after that close encounter with the small plane.
She knew neighbors on base had discussed Andrew’s plane crash around their kids. And even though Andrew had been gone too much to be a hands-on dad, their little girl had always tagged after him when he was home. And he’d taken her to see his plane. Flying had been his life. He’d even bought her picture books of planes.
But since Andrew had come and gone so often, Jenna was aware that Andee hadn’t yet fully comprehend his death.
Up to now they’d only casually mentioned that Andrew was in heaven. But Andee was a bright child and Jenna’s mom had said there would be an appropriate opening to discuss what death meant.
This wasn’t the time, though, Jenna decided.
To distract them both, she toured Andee through the rest of the four-bedroom, two-bath house while two of the movers set up their beds.
The wood floors in the living room needed waxing, Jenna noted. And hot as it was, Jenna couldn’t imagine ever needing the beautiful old fireplace at one end of the room. But when she expressed that thought, the youngest of the three movers laughed.
“Nights in the desert can be brutally cold. I grew up in New Mexico,” he added as if to prove his point.
The kitchen was outdated but clean, its cupboards painted a sea-foam green. Jenna imagined she’d like them better in white. But she also knew it’d take time to put her stamp on the place.
After the movers left, she dug out the linens to make up Andee’s bed.
She wished she’d thought to note the call letters painted on the underside of that plane. Even if there was an airport in the vicinity, the plane had flown dangerously low. If the pilot had violated some local flight ordinance, she should report the incident.
The plane could belong to a local rancher. She knew it wasn’t uncommon for ranch owners to fly private aircraft. If that was the case, perhaps he—or