The Rancher's Redemption. Melinda Curtis
her.”
Rachel had never been good at eating animals she’d had a face-to-face with. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Let’s make sure none of the rest of the herd is loose.”
“Little lady.” Henry slid his glasses off his nose and stared at Rachel. “After your father died, we made an agreement. Unless there’s an emergency, I don’t put in more than my eight hours, or I retire.”
The last thing Rachel needed was to upset Henry enough that he’d retire. But still, she worried. They had so few cattle left. “What about Tony?”
“He left early to have a root canal in Bozeman.” Henry’s gaze drifted back to the television. “He won’t be in tomorrow by the way.”
Shoot. She’d forgotten. But still... “This needs to be done tonight.”
“Ain’t no hurry, little lady. We don’t live in a time of cattle rustlers.” Henry cast a disparaging glance at Rachel’s pearls and then at her mother’s pink-and-gold trimmed boots. “The Blackwells raise Black Angus. They aren’t going to confuse white-faced cows on their land with their own.” He unmuted the television. “You can’t run a ranch in heels and pearls. Now, you worry about taking care of that baby of yours and I’ll worry about the ranch.”
Rachel left, feeling as if she’d been given a glass of water, a pat on the head and then shooed toward her bedroom.
Little lady.
Rachel’s anger increased with every step she took. Dad wouldn’t have waited until morning. There was nothing for it. This little lady was going to have to ride out to the fence line herself.
Now all she needed was something to wear.
BEN SPENT THE rest of the afternoon and early evening at the kitchen table of his childhood home researching water rights and occasionally staring up at the pink-feathered chandelier above him.
He’d seen a lot of high-end apartments decorated by celebrated designers in New York, but he’d never seen the likes of that chandelier. Big E had to be going blind. There was no way his grandfather could sit underneath pink feathers and drink his morning coffee every day.
Watch out, boy. Men bend over backward for love.
His grandfather had told Ben that years ago. And now? Big E was like a pretzel.
When Ben had proposed to Zoe, he’d been naive. He’d thought his high school sweetheart wanted the same things he did—the finer things city life had to offer. He’d thought his grandfather wanted what was best for Ben when he’d made sure Zoe didn’t need to worry about spending on the wedding.
“Your grandfather took me shopping in Bozeman,” Zoe had said on the phone one night when Ben was in New York.
“Why?” Ben’s attention was still half focused on the wording in the legal brief he was crafting.
“Because he wants me—and you—to have the very best,” she’d replied in a stately voice.
Later, when Ben had asked his grandfather about his generosity, he’d scoffed and said it was nothing.
Today, looking around the remodeled kitchen with its frivolous decor, it looked like the Blackwell Ranch had money to burn. According to Ethan, that was far from the truth. But then, when had Big E been a proponent of the truth?
Ben had worked hard in law school, spent summers interning in Boston, passed the bar in New York on the second try and in Montana on the first, returning home to help Big E protect the ranch’s water interests after practicing law in New York for a few years. He should have known Big E had personal interests of his own.
“We have to disclose this to opposing council,” Ben had said when Big E showed him a yellowed piece of paper referring to the thin strip that divided the Double T from the Blackwell Ranch. “This says the land above the aquifer was traded by Mathias Blackwell to Seth Thompson in 1919 for a prize bull.” In which case, the Thompsons would have rights to the aquifer, not the Blackwells.
“No, not necessarily.” Big E closed the door to his study, affording them some privacy. “For all we know, there’s another deed for the parcel. Folks in this valley bartered back and forth with land all the time. The Blackwells have been paying taxes on that strip for decades. I don’t care what that paper says. It’s our land.”
“We won’t know for sure until I do a title search.” Protecting Blackwell assets required due diligence.
Ben was in a precarious position. He didn’t want the Double T to go under, but they might if their river water was restricted. If the Thompsons owned the strip of land and the aquifer rights, the river water would matter less.
“No title search.” Big E dragged the cigar chair to the left of the fireplace out of the way. He leaned down and pried a board up with a letter opener, revealing a small safe. He put the yellowed piece of paper inside. “This is a small county. You search for a title and pretty soon everyone knows we’re looking for something, and then someone will want to know what it is we’re looking for.” Big E got to his feet with a creak of bones and put his hands on his hips. “Next thing that happens is we’ve got less land and a need for water. Are you a Blackwell, or not? Are you going to be our lawyer, or not? Think about the repercussions before you betray attorney-client privilege.”
Ben hadn’t wanted to let the issue go, but he had in the end. Eventually, they’d won the river water rights, but Ben had felt guilty about the victory because his father wouldn’t have approved the means, and Rachel was his friend. Of course, he’d only had twenty-four hours to feel guilty about it before Zoe ran off with Big E, and Rachel tossed that in his face, along with their friendship.
“Hey, where were you?” Ethan returned to the house after dinner. He’d showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a green button-down. “Dinner service at the guest ranch was an hour ago. We were expecting you to lend a hand.”
“I’ve been busy.” Ben closed his laptop and the article about the revocation of rural water rights in nearby Gallatin County. “And before you get on me, I don’t take calls or answer texts when I’m preparing for court.” Ben glanced around the kitchen and at Ethan’s empty hands. “Didn’t you bring me something to eat?”
“No.” Ethan scowled. “You have to earn dinner. We’re all pitching in until Big E gets back.”
Ben pointed at his laptop. “I am pitching in.” He let annoyance trickle into his tone. “I’ve been working on something more important than making sure Zoe’s guests give the ranch a good rating on social media.”
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest.
“Come on, Ethan. Are you sure Big E went on vacation on impulse? Coincidentally right before the guest ranch opened its doors?” Ben hooked his arm over the back of his chair, not about to be a busboy in Zoe’s little side business. “Are you sure Big E didn’t take off because he didn’t want to be the host of a bed-and-breakfast? This could be a ploy to get someone else to do all the work.”
“This isn’t like the time he hid our truck keys until we fixed the roof on the barn.” Gone was the humor Ethan had greeted Ben with earlier in the day. “He and Zoe and the motorhome are gone. Big E’s voice-mail box is full. No word from them. No ransom note either, in case you were wondering.”
“There has to be some clue in Big E’s office as to where they went.” Ben got up and walked down the hall to their grandfather’s study.
“We searched in there already,” Ethan grumbled, following him.
“Is it normal for Big E and Zoe to take off like that?” Ben stepped into the room, trying to remember which floorboard his grandfather hid his safe under. “The sheriff doesn’t