Читать книгу Having The Rancher's Baby - Cathy McDavid, Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 10

Chapter Four

Cole surveyed the manmade pond, noting that the water level had dropped two inches in the past two days. A total of fifteen inches in the past two weeks. Four months ago, a decrease in the level would have been expected, as Arizona had experienced its worst drought in decades.

But the drought had ended in February with a record-breaking deluge, followed by two more storm fronts passing through. Water levels shouldn’t be a problem. The other livestock ponds on Dos Estrellas were at capacity, providing an ample supply of fresh water for the herds, both mustangs and cattle. The cause of this pond’s depletion had yet to be determined, and Cole didn’t have a clue.

He’d been relieving Vi of her more demanding duties for just under a week, having heard the concerns about the pond before today but not paying much attention. Now he was in charge, which was like expecting a first grader to solve a complex calculus equation.

He could call Vi and ask her opinion, except he didn’t want to appear incompetent. Which he was, at least as far as livestock ponds went.

“Here. Check this out.” Joey, one of the hands Cole frequently worked with, squatted next to the pond’s edge and pointed to a spot in the dark, murky water.

Cole tied Hotshot to a low-hanging paloverde branch. If he didn’t, the horse would probably gallop off to join the mustangs grazing peacefully over the next ridge. This pond was in the heart of Cara’s sanctuary, close to where Cole had first glimpsed Hotshot. He’d been impressed with the horse’s potential, enough to seek out Cara the moment he returned to the ranch and ask to buy him.

She’d refused, striking a deal with him instead. In exchange for Hotshot, Cole helped her train other mustangs, preparing them for either adoption or use in her equine therapy program. Designed to benefit special-needs children, the program was officially launching at the end of the month.

Incredibly, it had already generated enough income from early enrollments to support the sanctuary through the end of the year, including paying the ranch a modest monthly rent. Little by little, they were chipping away at the mountain of bills, reducing it to a small hill.

If only Cole had more time. Training horses, especially roping and cutting horses, was his favorite pastime, next to rodeoing. But covering for Vi had become his first priority. She continued to be sick most days and was always tired.

“What is it?” he asked, going over to stand beside Joey.

“A leak.”

“You’re joking.”

“’Fraid not.”

“A pond can leak?” Cole had never heard of such a thing. He studied the spot Joey had indicated and noticed a small whirlpool, like water draining from a sink basin. Now and then a bubble or two rose to the surface.

“Somehow, the gravel bed’s developed a crack,” Joey said. “Water’s seeping into the surrounding ground.”

Joey was all of twenty-three years old but had been a ranch hand since he was fifteen and knew more than Cole could ever hope to learn. He was also one of two hands who hadn’t quit when Cole’s father died. Another reason to respect the young man.

“How does that happen?” Cole asked.

“One of the horse’s feet could’ve punctured the bed.”

He’d seen horses standing in the ponds, the water reaching their flanks. One rangy old fellow liked to swim. With enough force, it was possible a sharp hoof could puncture the bed.

“How do we fix it?”

“My grandpa used to pour borax into his ponds.”

“Isn’t that a detergent?”

Joey laughed, making Cole feel even more ignorant. “Technically, it’s a mineral. Depending on how big the crack is, borax can plug it.”

“You think the leak’s caused by a crack?” Cole had learned only this morning that there was a complicated engineering system to these ponds. A faulty valve or rupture in the pipe could result in a costly repair, requiring the pond to be drained and reexcavated.

“Good place to start,” Joey said. “And if the borax doesn’t work, you haven’t spent much money.”

Cole was all for economizing. The ranch couldn’t afford another expense, one possibly in the tens of thousands of dollars. While the pond was within the sanctuary boundaries, the land technically belonged to Dos Estrellas. Cost of repairs fell to the brothers.

“Guess I know where I’ll be going this afternoon.” He pushed to his feet. “Will you be ready to ride out again in the morning? Six sharp.”

“Sure.” Without confirming that they were done, Joey walked to where he’d left his horse tied.

Cole had the impression he’d been dismissed. Not the treatment a boss expected from his employee. Then again, it was hard to respect a boss who knew less than the employee about the job. The thought unsettled Cole. Funny, he wouldn’t have cared about Joey’s approval a week ago.

They mounted their horses and started out in the direction of the ranch, a good two-and-a-half-mile trek. Typically, they’d have taken the ranch ATVs when inspecting the pastures, but this particular pond was in a hard to reach location, and the vehicles sometimes got stuck in one of the deep ravines. Horses were simply better suited for this terrain.

Besides, Cole preferred traveling by horse. The scenery on this part of the ranch was spectacular. The distant McDowell Mountains, newly covered in a spring blanket of green cacti and brush, rose up to embrace a glorious, vivid blue sky. Pinnacle Peak, identifiable by its distinct angled shape, sat like a turret on a medieval castle.

If it weren’t for the exceedingly warm temperatures, Cole would consider this paradise on Earth. No wonder his great-grandfather Dempsey had taken one look at Mustang Valley and decided it was the place to build the ranch of his dreams and raise his family.

Someday, Dos Estrellas would belong to Cole’s child, Josh’s two and Gabe’s, if he had any. A fifth generation of Dempseys. But only if the ranch began turning a profit again. Otherwise, they’d be forced to sell at a loss, leaving little for the next generation.

Would it really matter? Money, having plenty or doing without, hadn’t made a difference in Cole’s life. All he’d wanted was a father.

What about his own child? If Cole left Mustang Valley, he’d be no better than his dad. Was that the legacy he really wanted to leave behind?

“If the borax doesn’t work,” Joey called to Cole, “Violet has the name of an engineer—”

“Don’t talk to her yet. Let’s give this a try. How long does borax usually take to plug a leak?”

“Days, if we’re lucky. Could be a week or more. May take several tries, depending on the size of the leak. Good thing there’s no rain in the forecast. That will make the pond level readings more accurate.”

He and Joey continued along the winding trail single file, with Cole in the lead. Several of the mustangs grazing nearby lifted their heads to stare. A yearling colt pranced in circles around his mother, then stopped and reared, front hooves pawing the air. The sight might have been taken straight from history, a hundred years ago when wild mustang roamed this valley.

Cole’s heart suddenly stirred. That, too, unsettled him. Why should he care so much about Dos Estrellas? It wasn’t home.

But it was home to the people he cared about. His brother, niece and nephew and, yes, Vi.

As Cole and Hotshot passed a large patch of prickly pear cacti, a covey of quail resting there took flight, the whir of their flapping wings creating a loud noise. Startled, Hotshot lowered his head and started bucking. Cole immediately drew up on the reins, squeezed with his legs and put all his weight in his heels. Evidently, the horse wasn’t as far along in his training as Cole had assumed.

Behind him, he heard Joey shout, “Whoa there,” and hoped the kid’s horse didn’t also spook.

“Easy, boy.” With practiced ease, Cole rode out the bucking spree. Bit by bit, Hotshot quieted. Soon enough, he was standing still, sides heaving and nostrils flaring.

Joey rode up behind him. “Well,” he said, humor coloring his voice. “That was some fine riding. A body might think you rodeoed for a living.”

Cole grinned and adjusted his cowboy hat, which he’d nearly lost during the minor calamity. Then he and Hotshot walked on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“You miss the life?” Joey asked.

Cole didn’t think before answering. “I do.”

“I hear tell you’re going back.”

That had been the plan. “Might. It all depends.”

“What are you going to do about a roping horse?”

Cole decided Joey wasn’t being rude so much as he was curious, or simply killing time. It was no secret Cole had sold off his four champion roping horses and given the money to Gabe. Some of the younger steers had come down with a highly contagious virus last winter, and Gabe had used the money to purchase antibiotics.

Cole sometimes asked himself why he’d done it. Mostly for Josh. His older brother wanted to stay at Dos Estrellas and needed a home where he could bring his children to live.

But that wasn’t the real reason or the most important one. As much as Cole wanted to be gone from Mustang Valley—had wanted to be gone—he refused to be called a quitter. When he left, it would be with the respect of his family and the ranch employees.

No one, especially Josh and Gabe, would give him that respect if he abandoned Vi and their child.

“I’m hoping Hotshot will prove himself,” Cole said, his thoughts back to the present.

“He’s a fine horse, but he has a long way to go.”

“True enough.” As the past few minutes had demonstrated.

Eventually, he and Joey reached the gate separating the mustang sanctuary from the cattle grazing lands. The herds were constantly moved from section to section in order to conserve grass and allow it to regenerate.

Last week, Cole had helped relocate the pregnant cows in this section from one farther south. Most were due to deliver in late fall or early winter. This he’d learned from Vi, who, despite being a slip of a girl, was practically an expert on cattle. She credited Cole’s father for teaching her.

Once through the gate, Cole and Joey resumed their trek across the section. In the distance, the roofs of the ranch house and outbuildings came into view. Two hills over, cattle grazed, appearing unaffected by the heat.

A cluster of paloverde trees grew to their left in a dry wash that had been full and running three months ago. Birds perched in the treetops, hopping nervously from branch to branch. Cole kept one eye glued to the ground, on the lookout for rattlesnakes and lizards hidden among the rocks.

All at once a low, mournful bellow carried over to them from behind the trees.

Cole drew up on the reins. “What’s that?”

“A cow.” Joey was already turning his horse in the direction of the sound.

Cole followed. “You sure?”

“Trust me, it is.”

Reaching the trees, they dismounted and pushed branches aside to investigate. Joey had been right. The cow stood with her head down, guarding the lifeless body of her prematurely born calf.

“Oh, man,” Cole said, his shoulders slumping. The poor thing never had a chance.

* * *

“YOU STAY HERE with the cow,” Cole told Joey, after they’d taken time to assess the situation. “I’ll ride to the ranch, get my truck and see who’s available to help. We’ll load the calf in the back, and you lead the cow to the ranch. I think the vet should check her out, just to be on the safe side.”

He headed to where Hotshot was tied, trying to remember if the vet’s number was programed into his phone.

“Sounds good,” Joey said.

Both of them had kept a reasonable distance from the cow in case she became aggressive. Her calf may not have survived, but there were no guarantees she’d willingly abandon it.

Finding a patch of shade to escape the sweltering heat, Joey pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Violet.”

Cole ground to a halt. “Don’t do that.”

“Shouldn’t she know? She’s in charge.”

All Cole could think about was how news of the premature calf might upset her. She already struggled with mood swings—her words, not his. News like this would have her leaping out of bed or off the recliner, wherever she happened to be resting, and racing to the rescue.

“I’ll call her,” Cole said, though he wouldn’t until later. Much later.

It was too hot to gallop Hotshot, but that didn’t stop Cole from trotting him the last mile to the ranch. There, he located Leroy, the wrangler who had blabbed about Cole and Vi leaving the bar together, and, handing over the reins, instructed him to look after Hotshot.

“Make sure he’s cooled down before you put him up.”

“Will do.”

“You seen Josh?”

“Said he was going to the house.”

Cole found his brother in the office, staring at the computer screen. He glanced up the second Cole entered. “I swear I’m going cross-eyed staring at these spreadsheets.”

“Forget them. We have a problem.”

Josh stood. Cole was still feeding him details as they climbed into his truck. After a quick stop at the tack room for a plastic tarp, they sped out the gate leading to the pastures and up the dirt road toward the hills, clouds of dust spewing from the rear tires. Minutes later, the road narrowed to a horse trail and the going got rough.

“What are you doing?” Josh asked when Cole drove the truck off the trail and onto rocky, uneven land thick with low-growing vegetation.

“Taking a shortcut.”

“Are you sure about this?” Josh anchored one hand on the dash to keep himself from coming off the seat when they bounced over a rotted tree trunk.

“Hang on,” Cole warned. “There’s a gully ahead.”

Joey was still waiting in the same patch of shade when they arrived, thankfully in one piece. Cole credited his driving skills. Josh had a different opinion.

Together, the three of them devised a plan. Cole would rope the cow. Hopefully, she’d come willingly—she already appeared to be losing interest in the calf. Just to be sure, they’d brought along a bucket of grain as added incentive. As soon as Joey left with the cow, Cole and Josh would take care of the calf.

Cole reached behind the seat for his lariat. He seldom went anywhere without it, a habit he’d formed years ago. Automatically adjusting the size of the loop, he slowly approached the cow, who stared at him with trepidation. About twenty feet away, he stopped. Josh and Joey watched from the truck.