Hill Country Homecoming Page 9

  His parents looked to each other and back to him. “You sure about this, son?”

  “I am, Dad. It’s been bouncing around in my mind a while now. She just forced my hand.”

  He bent to side-hug his mom and kissed her forehead. “No worries, Mom. God is in control.”

  His father’s face softened as he reached to pat Travis’ hand. “Amen, son. Amen.”

  * * *

  The remainder of the winter months proved mild. Before long, the bluebonnets were popping out of the ground over the prairies and along the medians of the highways, mixed with wine cups, daisies, and Indian paintbrushes. Temperatures hovered in the seventies during the day. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief as the ranch hands and she settled into the spring routine. A strong camaraderie developed. No one questioned her authority and she entertained their opinions. She held weekly breakfast meetings at six on Monday mornings in the dining hall with Jake, George, and Adam, all of whom she had grown to trust.

  As she helped clear the dishes with Cook, her cell phone announced a familiar but rarely heard-these-days tune. Tucker. She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to smile.

  “Hi, there. How’s Big D?”

  His voice took on a sullen tone. “Lonely. Boring.”

  Tired of where this conversation always seemed to lead, she chose to ignore it. “You need to move on, Tucker. I have.”

  His voice hardened. “You know you belong here, with your own kind. There is a big fundraiser gala for the public broadcasting station on the fifteenth. White tie, two-hundred bucks a plate. Mindy will be there.”

  The girl’s name, once her major rival for his attention, lingered in his innuendo.

  “Why do you think I could break away for it? Daddy has somewhat stabilized in rehab, but I’m still not able to leave the Bar-M in Adam’s care. Manny will be on Spring Break, so he’ll be here fulltime to help, but I am still short a stallion manager, you know. The fields need mowing, the hay rolls secured, and the inoculations on the animals performed. Plus, I have four mares coming in to breed and the three foalings will soon begin.”

  Tucker let off a loud yawn.

  Her blood began to soft boil. “You should see Manny. He’s truly pulling his own weight now that he’s not shackled to Mr. Righteous.”

  She heard his scoff. “The kid’s soft on you. I picked up his puppy dog looks at Christmas. At least you had the sense to can that Wallace guy. He had the pangs for you, too. Guess men in those parts don’t see women like you very often.”

  Sarah resisted the urge to voice what she wanted say in response. The red formal she’d never had a chance to wear still hung in her closet in her Dallas apartment, calling to her. Perhaps she could come, have a blast, eat gourmet food again, and finally pack up her things. Move out. Sublease her downtown apartment to someone. Rent a haul-it-yourself truck. “Maybe I could swing it if you could arrange one of the firm’s private jets—”

  “That’s asking a lot, Sarah.” He paused. “Surely you know some rancher…”

  She swallowed her sigh back down her throat. “Of course. I’ll see what I can do between the mares beginning to foal, the fence repairs, the stud fee advertisements, finishing the tax forms now that we have the oil companies’ reports—”

  “Hey, I’m a touch busy, too. I didn’t make junior partner sitting around on my—”

  She cut him off, not wanting to listen to his crassness. “I’m sure you didn’t, Tucker. Never mind. I’ll text you if and when I’ve made plans. Oh, and tell Mindy I said howdy.”

  She clicked off her cell phone with such pressure it jammed her thumb. Her face flamed as she shoved the device into her back pocket before the temptation to throw it out the window took over. Why did their conversations always end so tensely? Didn’t he get it? With her dad incapacitated and Travis gone, to return to Dallas and her former life would crumble the Bar-M empire to its foundation.

  And what would she find if she did? Tucker in Mindy’s bed, no doubt.

  No, forget it. She’d hire movers to pack and bring her things to the ranch. Let a real estate agent she knew find someone to sublease her place. Good riddance, Dallas. All that rich food would curdle her intestines now anyway.

  What about her prospects here? She thumped the table. Who cared? The heck with men, their pride and their need to have a woman on their arm. Whether in Dallas or the Texas Hill Country, they were all the same. She’d make this ranch her life instead. She’d take what her daddy left her and make it even better, just as he had when her grandfather handed it to him. Then she’d earn the other ranchers’ respect. They wouldn’t snicker behind her back anymore.

  “A walk in the garden. That will calm me down. Let’s go, Rex.” She clucked her tongue and the hound perked to attention, his tail thumping on the floor.

  A bright red cardinal perched in the elm tree and sang for a mate. Monarch butterflies flitted between the redbud blossoms. The lilies and irises splashed the grounds with welcome color after the brown and gray winter months. Her mother’s tea rose bushes were in full bloom. Geraniums and verbena tumbled from the cement urns. Up above, fluffy white clouds rolled lazily across the early afternoon Texas sky. In the distance, two new-born, spindle-legged colts whinnied and frolicked on the rolling hills of her property. The other mares readied to foal over the next month. All promised to be good breeds, and soon, the profits would roll in. She took it all in and sighed. Her world seemed right once more.

  Sarah eased onto one of the outdoor benches and closed her eyes, letting the sun seep into her facial pores. A distant whiff of freshly-cut hay tickled her nose. She recalled summer days as a young girl as she and her friends’ echoes of laughter bounced off the cool ripples of the river. Carefree days. Where did they go?

  Her brain kicked in, erasing the serenity of the memory. Add seeding the stock pond with catfish to the list. The nutria had diminished the natural population in the river. Her father always let his hands and their families fish for their Sunday suppers. Another habit of his generosity she planned to uphold.

  She slapped her thighs and sighed. Her watch read 2:15. No rest for the weary. She had a meeting with the owner of the Sheffield Stud Farm in less than an hour about artificially inseminating her younger mares after they entered foal heat. That, supposedly, was easier on them, giving their birth canals time to recover, according to the vet. She better change her clothes to dress the part of the successful ranch owner’s daughter.

  She greeted him with a firm handshake and a professional smile, her head erect and shoulders back. Mr. Sheffield raised one eyebrow, then cleared his throat. “I heard about your daddy’s turn in health. My condolences, but I fully expected to meet with Travis.”

  She forced her response to be emotionless. “He is no longer with the Bar-M. I am my father’s executor and make all the financial and operating decisions.”

  “Including breeding manager?” He gave her a slight upturn of his lips. “Well, then, let’s begin.”

  Bedsides the A.I., Sheffield offered a surrogate mare to receive the embryo in-vitro so her mares could breed again or be ready to show. That would increase her foal ratio three times. His operation also provided a frozen sperm bank for her stallions and would split the stud fees 70/30. She recalled her conversations with Travis about that practice. Right now, she paid the vet a good amount to collect the “liquid gold” from their studs for shipment to bidders. But it had to arrive within twenty-four hours and stay at a certain temperature in transit. It might actually save her money to freeze and bank it instead.

  Modern genetics, but the whole idea left a bad taste in her mouth. She doubted her father would approve of messing with God and Mother Nature when it came to invitro transfers. Still, she listened to his spiel.

  “Several cutting ranches in Central Texas already utilize our services and have experienced a great boost in production and income. If you want to keep the Bar-M ahead of the competition, well, Miss Sarah, you need what I can offer.” He handed her a g
lossy folder with Sheffield Stud Services’ logo embossed on the front. “Inside is a rundown of our fees, including the boarding of your horses during the process in state of the art facilities. More like an equine five-star hotel.” He gave her a wink and deep chuckle. “You will find them quite reasonable.”

  The man’s sales techniques proved persuasive. Sarah would have liked Travis’ advice on this, though admitting the fact bristled her pride. She rose from the chair and extended her hand.

  “I’ll think on this. I have time before I need to make a decision since two of my mares have already birthed and several have yet to foal. Only one has bagged up.”

  His lips widened into a grin. “So you know the terminology, huh? When is she due?”

  “Sometime next week is the vet’s guess. First time, so it’s hard to tell.”

  “You’d better have the hands monitoring her moods and seeing if her flanks begin to droop.”

  “I know that. As do they. This isn’t our first time at this.” She set her teeth with a stiff smile.

  He pumped her hand up and down and squeezed her fingers in the process. “Well, best of luck. Keep us in mind. Shall I check back with you in July?”

  She gave him a half-grin as she yanked her hand from his. Macho and pompous. No, he wouldn’t be hearing back from her at all.

  As Mr. Sheffield drove away, a brisk wind whisked her ponytail. The sky began to darken. The distinct odor of wet ground filled the air, and the clouds turned navy blue off to the west. A distant rumble of thunder warned of foul weather. Springtime in Texas often turned vicious in just a few minutes. Thuds of footsteps pounding the gravel path made her swirl around. Adam raced towards her.

  “We’re under a severe thunderstorm warning. That means golf to tennis ball-sized-hail and gusts up to seventy miles per hour according to the radio alert.”

  “Right. Round up everyone. Shelter the colts, Monarch, M-man, Lady Fair, and the other pregnant mares in their stalls. Herd the older ones, including Angel Hair, and geldings from the south pasture to the training corral. Use the jeeps. We don’t need any of the workhorses spooking if lightning strikes.” She stopped to make sure her commands registered. Then she added, “Secure the exhibit tarps over the corral and double stake them. That may protect the horses from the wind and hail.”

  “Yes’m. Good thinkin’.” He flicked on his walkie talkie and began shouting orders. She dashed toward the house, Rex loping beside her, to tell Cook to put on extra pots of coffee and make plenty of sandwiches in case the power failed. Something told her this might be a very long night.

  Her cell phone rang. The caller I.D. flashed the Rehab Center. Sarah gulped a lungful of air and pressed the answer button. “Sarah Mansfield.”

  “Ms. Mansfield, this is Doctor Heinemann. I wanted to update you on your father. No cause for alarm, but his condition seems to be declining. We have increased his oxygen and his heart rate is steady. However, we need your permission to intubate, if necessary, as well as to feed him solely through intravenous means.”

  Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She’d let herself still have hope of his return, even though the doctors predicted her father would live out his life in a care facility. “Yes, whatever you feel is called for. He never filled out a do not resuscitate order form. But, Doctor, I know he’d…” She swallowed back the emotion. “He’d want no heroics. If His Maker is calling him home, well…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. She turned her face into the wind to dry her tears and cool her face. A long roll of thunder reverberated over the hills, followed by a flash of white illuminating the tall, dark clouds.

  “We are hardly there at this point, Sarah. Not yet.” His tone sounded calming but not very reassuring.

  “I see. Thank you for calling. I must run. Bad weather is brewing and we have to secure the horses.” Before she heard his response she ended the call. Huge drops began to spot the ground. Ranch hands scurried in all directions like yellow-jacket hornets when their nest is disturbed. Whinnies and snorts of anxious animals ricocheted off the gusts of moist atmosphere.

  Bam. A rogue lightning bolt hit the mesquite tree near the stable and cracked a limb. Star Blazer yanked free of his reins, flattening Manny to the ground, and rushed the fence. Halfway over it, a loud whack sounded. The colt crumbled. Its cries of pain pierced the air. Manny remained face down. Not a muscle moved.

  Her heart leapt into her throat.

  Two of the cowboys rushed to help. She ran as well, but she couldn’t feel any strength in her legs. “Is he okay?”

  They flipped the teen over. Caliche caked his face but he coughed and opened his eyes.

  “Carry him into the house and lay him on the sofa in the den. Let Cook look him over.”

  Sarah shifted her attention to the writhing colt. Adam bent on his heels to stroke the withers as George held the animal’s torso down to keep the hooves away. She edged towards the railing. Adam ran his hand down the colt’s back right leg, now bent in a weird angle. His gaze met hers as his head shook slowly.

  Sarah’s lips quivered. Star Blazer’s eyes pleaded for relief from the pain. “Do it.”

  “Ma’am. He’s our best…I mean your daddy paid a lot for him. Maybe the vet…” George passed his gaze between her and Adam.

  “No time to call the vet. Not with this storm brewin’. The animal is suffering.”

  Adam rose and squeezed his coworker’s shoulder. “She’s right, George. Keep him calm.”

  George gave a quick bob in affirmation. He turned his face toward Sarah, raising his voice over the whirling wind. “You don’t have to watch.”

  She nodded several times and backed away. Her head down against the rain that now pelted her face, she shuffled to the house to check on Manny. A few minutes later, rifle fire ricocheted off the building. The colt’s whinnies stopped.

  Sarah grabbed the portico column to steady herself as teardrops filled her eyes. She whispered to herself, “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”

  Yet her employees needed her. The horses needed her. Her father needed her.

  Those truths formatted in her head, but she allowed two more to surface. She finally admitted it. She needed God in her life big time, but she also wanted Travis. After this was over, she’d swallow her pride and drive to Llano. Get down on her knees and beg if necessary.

  She slid to the steps and hugged her arms to her torso. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered. “God, I haven’t talked much to You, or thought about You until the past few months. But I need You. I believe in You and Your Son, Jesus. Please forgive me and help me.”

  In no time, inner resolve flooded her veins. A strange calmness enveloped her like the eye of a hurricane, pushing the stress in a huge circle around her, not touching her anymore. She wiped her eyes, whispered a thank you, and headed inside.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “He’s okay. Just got the wind knocked out of him,” Cook reported as she dashed down the hallway with a wet washcloth in her hand. Sarah followed her into the den. She forced herself to smile as she slowed her steps toward the sofa.

  “Hey, Manny. Welcome back.”

  “Yes’m.” He held a cell phone in his hand. “Just calling, um…” He tried to rise up on his elbow. “Never mind. I’m ready to help out now.”

  Sarah pumped her hands, palms down. “Whoa there. Take it slow. We’ve got this handled. If you need to call your folks, that’s okay. Just reassure them we will take good care of you and not to worry.”

  Cook laid the washcloth on the young man’s forehead. “Now you’s lay quiet. There will be plenty for you to do the rest of the night.”

  “She’s right, Manny. The horses are settled in now, but later on, when Adam and George are dead tired…”

  His countenance brightened. “Okay. I’ll be ready then. Thanks.” He flopped down onto his back again. “What about Blaze?”

  She dropped her gaze to the rug. “No. I’m sorry.”

  He groaned.

  Sa
rah laid a soft hand on his arm. “Not your fault. Blame the weather. That bolt of lightning came out of nowhere.”

  A crash of thunder shook the rafters as a burst of light flooded the room for a millisecond. She chuckled. “See what I mean? Duty calls.”

  She grabbed her slicker as Maria shoved a thermos and several Styrofoam cups in her hands. “It’s hot, strong, and fresh.”

  “Thank you. You’re a life saver.” She winked at Cook. “Both of you.”

  With fortified determination, Sarah braved the elements and headed towards the stables. Her face turned away from the lump under a tarp by the broken rail. Star Blazer’s burial would have to wait. The live animals needed attention now.

  The storm only lasted thirty minutes, but it’s havoc devastated most of the new spring leaves. They littered the ground like confetti after a parade. Small branches lay scattered across the grass. Deep puddles hop-scotched the path from the main house to the stables and ranch hands’ quarters. Down the hill, the dry creek rushed brown and bubbling.

  But the horses were calm now. Everyone worked to muck the stalls, give them fresh water, and soothe their nerves as the thunder faded in the east. Then they huddled in a circle on the hay stacks, drinking their coffee and swapping stories, Sarah included.

  * * *

  An hour later, Sarah leaned against the walls of the barn with one foot bent against the jamb of the stable door as she watched the residual soft rain sheet the landscape. Hailstones still blanketed the dirt as if someone dumped hundreds of bags of packing pellets over the property. She hated to think what the garden looked like. Her mother’s prize roses, carefully nurtured by a local gardener at great expense to her daddy, must have taken a huge beating. She didn’t want to think about the roofs to the main house and the cowboys’ quarters, much less the workers’ cottages close by. Nor the potential damage it caused the jeeps and the farm equipment. Every muscle in her shoulders and back ached, and a tension headache drummed her temples. Why had she ever fired Travis? Oh, well. No going back, now. Gotta keep moving forward, girl.