Читать книгу Return To Marker Ranch - Claire McEwen - Страница 14

CHAPTER SIX

WADE HANDED HIS sister the sheet of numbers he’d worked out. Units of water required. Current output from the well. Just like it said in his ranching books. “Thanks for coming by to take a look at this.”

But Nora just set his spreadsheet facedown on the dining room table between them. “You don’t get it. It’s not about the numbers.”

He stared at her in shock. “How can you say that? You’re a scientist. You’re all about the numbers!”

“Mostly, yes.” Nora nodded. “But in this case they don’t matter. You just need to do what’s right. You can’t quantify that.”

He’d asked his sister over to look at the facts, not dish out morality. “So you’re saying I should just give her half of my well water?”

“Yes.” She gave him the calm smile he’d relied on for so much of his life. “I think it’s that simple.”

Nerves twisted in his stomach. “But I can’t afford to. It says it right there on that paper.” Wade picked it up again. He’d done his homework last night—almost all night. “Look, I can’t afford to make a big mistake. We don’t have much capital left.”

“Then find a way to make it work despite the numbers. This isn’t just about the water. It’s about being a good neighbor. It’s about being a part of the community.”

“Those things won’t mean much if I fail and lose the ranch.”

“So don’t fail.”

“How?” He stood up, pacing the floor by the table. “How do I not fail if I make decisions based on being nice? This is water we’re talking about. A key ingredient for a ranch.”

Nora gave him a long look. She’d given him the same look many times when he was a teenager and she wasn’t much older than that, and she was trying to raise him right. “Ranches here are failing left and right. Do you really want Lori to lose hers? After how hard she and her family have worked to keep it going all these years? Even after their mom died?”

He remembered how devastated Lori had been. How she’d drifted, sad and empty, through her sophomore year of high school. How she’d grown up after that, become an adult way before the rest of them had, trying to take care of her father and her sister. He’d watched her back then, wishing he knew how to offer comfort. “Of course I don’t want them to lose their ranch. But it’s a business, right? Everything I’ve read about ranching says it’s a business. And we need that water to make our business a success.”

“Any good book on business should also mention that out of hardship can come innovation. You need to let go of some of that water and then innovate. Figure out a way to get by with less.”

“But...”

Nora cut him off. “Your books won’t help with this issue because they’re not written for people experiencing the worst drought in California’s long history of droughts! But you and Lori are smart. And you’ve got me—how many people can say they have an expert on range management in the family? I’ll go though her pastures as well as ours if you want, and see if I can help.”

“I guess.” Wade set the paper aside, trying to put aside his anxiety with it. He was overly cautious. He knew that. Partly because he’d come back here to prove that he could make this a success.

But also because growing up, ranching was his dream. He’d watched the other families in the area with their cattle and horses and their nice clothes and pickups. He’d seen their barbecues and barn raisings and the way they high-fived and slapped backs at local events. And he’d wanted that life. A normal, hardworking life. He’d wanted it badly, and now he had a small chance at making it happen.

He shook his head, trying to loosen the anxious buzzing there. The voice whispering that no matter what he did about the water, he’d find a way to mess this up because failure was in his DNA. He tried to shush it, to see it for what it really was—the aftereffects of months in combat. The whispers of doubt over the smallest decisions. The intense irritation when things didn’t go his way. It was making him rigid. It had him digging his heels in with Lori and Jim the other day. Had him grimly clinging on to what he felt might be the quickest path to security and survival—no matter what the consequences to others.

Nora stood up and reached for his hand, guiding him back down to his seat at the table. “Little bro, take a breath. It’s going to be okay.”

He raised his brows at her. “Really?”

“I think so. You’re just in survival mode right now. And it’s making you a little frantic.”

“What do you mean?” He’d been in survival mode before. With bullets hitting the dirt around him as he scrabbled for shelter. This wasn’t that.

“I mean how we grew up. Everyday survival. How to get food, how to get clothes, how to make it without a mom, how to stay out of Dad’s way. I think it’s easy to slip back into that way of thinking, where it’s all about trying to get the next meal.”

Wade traced an old water stain on the table. He hated talking about the past. Hated remembering the searing of his dad’s belt on his back and the ache of hunger in his stomach.

“Sometimes I wonder if all that surviving made us a little hard,” Nora said quietly. “Because we had to look out for ourselves, and focus all our energy on just getting by.”

“That’s a good thing,” Wade countered. “We’re not dependent. We take care of ourselves. It’s made us successful.” It had brought him through some scary battles.

“It can be a good thing,” Nora said gently. “But lately I’ve been thinking about how all the independence that saved us when we were kids may not be quite so helpful now that we’re adults. I mean, we can survive on our own, but don’t you want more than survival? Don’t you want friends and neighbors and... I don’t know...love?”

“Love?” He had to tease her. It was his brotherly duty. “I don’t know about that, seeing as you’ve gone all soft on me since you got together with Todd. Where’s the Nora who taught me to look out for myself and make sure I succeeded?”

“All that’s still important. But if that’s all we do, life’s not going to be very rich, is it? I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. But you asked for my opinion. And my opinion is to ignore the numbers and share the water.”

“It’s not what I expected you’d say.” He crumpled up the paper in disgust. And because he was still her little brother, he threw it at her.

Nora caught it in one hand and grinned. “Glad I can still surprise you, bro. Trust me on this one, okay?”

“Sure. But if that well runs out of water, you’ll help me figure out what to do next, right?”

“I’ll buy you your first water delivery.”

“Ah...so consoling.” He delivered the sarcasm with a smile. “You always were good to me.”

Nora laughed. “Back atcha. And one more piece of advice?”

“Do I have a choice?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Fine. Shoot.” He sat back, waiting for the lecture. He dreaded it mostly because she was probably right. She always had been. Five years older than him and many, many years wiser.

“Look, if you really want to get rid of the legacy of Dad and our brothers, and make the Hoffman name mean something more than larceny and drug deals, you need to get off this ranch. Don’t hide out here. You need to spend some time in town, meet some people. Let everyone see you’ve changed.”

He let out a bark of a laugh. “This from the world’s biggest introvert.”

“Yes, and even I’m trying.”

She was. He’d seen it and admired her for it. Todd was friends with most of the town, and Nora gamely stepped out by his side, quietly facing down anyone who despised her for her family history. “I hate it when you’re right all the time.’

“It’s my job as your older sister.”

“Ha!”

“But seriously, Wade, you need to get out more.”

It was clear she wasn’t going to let him off without a promise. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go out for a beer or something. As long as you let Todd off the leash for a night so he can go with me.”

“I don’t have him on a leash!” she protested, flushing.

Now he was in full-on little brother mode. It was far more comfortable than hearing about his mistakes. “Really? And when’s the last time you two spent more than a couple of hours apart?”

“We like each other!” Nora was beet red now. She’d always blushed easily.

“He’s leashed. Arf arf!”

“Okay, twelve-year-old. You can borrow my fiancé for a night out this weekend. Now, do you need anything else? Because I told Todd I’d meet him for dinner.”

“I rest my case.”

She grinned. “Glad you’re feeling better. Now go fix things with Lori, you big dork.”

* * *

WADE WATCHED NORA’S Jeep disappear down the driveway before he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. He had no idea how he was going to handle the night out he’d just gotten himself into.

And Lori. He’d have to find a way to face her as well. She’d looked like an angry angel on his ranch yesterday, with her hair swirling around her shoulders and her eyes dark with hurt. So different from the way she’d looked at him, full of longing and acceptance and desire, all those years ago, just before they’d made love. Her first time, and the first time it ever mattered for him.

And damn, it had mattered. He’d loved her from a distance through high school. She’d been smart and strong and good at everything she turned her hand to. He’d leaned on the fence down at the arena, watching her win junior rodeo ribbons right alongside the boys her age. He’d seen her name semester after semester on the school honor roll posted in the fancy glass case by the office. He’d listened to her up at the podium delivering student council speeches and stole glances after school when she headed off to cheerleading practice in her cute uniform.

He’d watched her and wanted her and never felt worthy of her. He was the kid from so far down the wrong side of the tracks he might as well have been living in another country. Most days he was lucky to figure out where his meals were coming from, let alone what his homework was. And he covered his misery in the couldn’t-care-less attitude and cigarette-smoking armor of the kids like him. The ones who couldn’t go home until their angry-drunk dads had passed out. The ones who had nowhere to study, or who didn’t have what it took to succeed in school. The almost-dropouts, the almost-failing, the lost kids.

Until that one day when he’d finally gotten himself kicked out of school for good, and she’d offered him comfort and so much more. And he’d taken everything she’d given. And then pushed her away for both their sakes.

And now, when he’d come home a combat veteran, and possibly, finally, worthy of all that she was, he’d blown it. Because of the anxiety that had him grabbing at the things he could touch and see, like gallons of water and spreadsheets of numbers. Anxiety that had him tongue-tied in front of her, unable to give her the water she wanted or the apology she deserved.

He had to do something different. Had to figure out a way around the throttlehold the PTSD had on him. Because it wasn’t just affecting him. It was hurting Lori, the girl he’d loved, who’d given him memories he’d held on to like a talisman during all the dark and fear-filled nights in Afghanistan, when he wasn’t sure he’d make it back alive.

* * *

DR. HERNANDEZ KNELT over the heifer lying in the dry grass. The young cow was breathing heavily in the soft evening air. Wade could feel his breathing catch right along with hers.

“Did you check the papers carefully when you bought these gals?” the vet asked.

Wade racked his stressed-out brain, trying to picture what the seller had given him. It had been a hectic day. He’d injured his shoulder and Nora had handled the delivery. “Well, I know I got papers. And the seller said they’d had all their shots.”

“Yes, but did he hand you a certificate from a veterinarian? Did you have a vet look them over before you accepted them?”

“No.” He watched the doctor’s brows draw together as he surveyed the rest of the herd. About a quarter of the heifers were standing around listlessly. “I guess I should have.”

“Yup.” The vet sighed. “It’s okay, Wade. It’s a pretty common mistake.”

Dr. Hernandez wasn’t much older than him, and Wade appreciated his blunt honesty. It was what he was used to after the army. “So I messed up. What can I do to fix it?”

“It’s a respiratory illness. They probably never got their booster shots. It’s treatable. You need to separate out the sick ones and give them antibiotics. And they’re all going to need to be vaccinated. Come on over to my van and I’ll get everything ready for you.” He paused. “You know how to give them shots, don’t you?”

He’d read about how to give them shots. He knew he should confess his ignorance, but he couldn’t stand to have the doctor think he was an even bigger fool. “Yeah,” he said casually. “That’s not a problem.” But then he remembered Lori’s harsh words of advice. A rancher needed to face mistakes and fix them fast. These cattle depended on him. There was no room for pride here. “Actually, no, not really.”

“Look,” Dr. Hernandez said as he opened a box in his van. “I can show you really quick, but do you have anyone who can help you out? Maybe someone who can mentor you a bit? Cattle ranching is complicated—a lot can go wrong. And if too much goes wrong, it can be dangerous for you, for the animals and even for the consumer.”

Wade watched the doctor measure out liquid into a glass bottle. He didn’t relish folks around here knowing how little experience he had running a ranch. There was only one person he could possibly confess that to. And she’d called him a thief yesterday.

His sister had been right. He might need water, but he needed his neighbor even more. Lori was the smartest person he knew, and one of the most capable ranchers in the area as well. If he shared the water, she’d help him. She had to. He was desperate, and underneath her frustration with him, she was a generous person.

And maybe desperation was just what he needed to push him through the anxiety. To get him to finally say the things he should have already. Things like I’m sorry. And I wish I’d acted differently. “Yeah, I know someone,” he told the vet.

“Great. Have him get over here as soon as possible. You’ll need an extra hand.”

Funny how the vet immediately assumed that Wade was talking about a guy. Lori probably had to be extra tough, trying to make it in a profession so dominated by men. Which would help explain why she’d been so tough with him over the water. Though he’d also been an insensitive, scared jerk. That would probably explain it better.

He remembered, suddenly, being a kid at school. How he’d almost never had a lunch with him. How Lori had always offered to share hers. She’d fed him just about every day for years. And then he’d turned his back on her when she came to him about the water? What the hell was wrong with him? How had he started making all of his decisions out of fear?

He turned to the doctor with a new resolve. “I’ve got someone I need to apologize to. And if I do it right, I hope she’ll give me a hand around here. She’s the best rancher I know.”