Gnome On The Range (10 page)

“Good point. Would horse sperm bring in more money than cow sperm?”

“I have no idea.”

“I could ask Ty’s parents. They’re cattle ranchers so they’d be the experts.”

“Speaking of Ty…why don’t you just ask him?”

“Because if he knew I was going out to the ranch today he’d get angry. He doesn’t want me messing around with all of this.”

“Aww, so romantic!”

“Romantic? I don’t like being told what to do,” I grumbled.

“He’s just being protective. It’s that Alpha male testosterone that he’s got tons of. Be careful, he may drag you by your hair back to his cave.”

The image of being manhandled and dragged anywhere by Ty made me hot all over. “I met him for the first time last week. He has no claim over me or what I do.”

“Then it shouldn’t bother you to tell him you’re going to the ranch. Why keep it a secret?”

Good question.

***

The address listed placed the ranch west of town, near Norris. It took me close to thirty minutes to take

Norris Road

all the way past the hot springs. I’d been stuck behind a pickup towing a trailer loaded down with a float boat, ATV and several coolers. Someone was going camping, hunting and fishing. I turned south toward Ennis and took a dirt road left, then right.

The ranch, like many in the West, had a huge log archway at the start of the drive. Two D’s sitting on a curve like the bottom of a rocking chair was the symbol for the ranch and placed with honors front and center on the arch. I slowly followed the dirt drive back about a half mile to the main parking area. It was impossible to miss the horse buildings. The main one itself was an aircraft-hangar sized monstrosity. There had to be an indoor racing ring inside. That or a 747.

Gray metal siding with forest green trim all around. A cupola with a weather vane graced the top. It was a no-nonsense building but obviously high-end. The minimal landscaping around it was tasteful and well-maintained, the building clean and only a faint scent of the horses lingered. No poop to be seen. The building had to have some kind of special horsy name but I didn’t know what it was.

A large house sat on a ridge in the distance. A Montana mansion made of log with big windows and expansive views. Land all around spanned to the mountains. Just like everywhere else around, the scenery was beautiful. The house could be a cover home for Architectural Digest. If you liked the middle-of-nowhere mega mansion with stinky horses and cows roaming around. Some people loved it. Whatever floated your boat.

Next to the main building stood the stable, this much I could tell. Almost a football field long, it was narrow with big doors that slid open on the short end. I could see inside a little way and make out a few stalls. A horse or two had their heads over the half-doors so I knew I was in the right place. I parked and went in search of Drake Dexter—and Morty Moore.

It was darker in the stable than I expected and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight. It was warm inside, dusty and smelled of hay and horses. Several people worked forking hay, some hefting something else, most likely poop. Lots of it. A brown horse was being led outside by a bridle about its head. It seemed a precision operation. All employees appeared to wear matching green polo shirts with the Rocking Double D logo embroidered in white on the chest. The facility was clean, well kept and obviously a money maker.

“Excuse me.” I stopped one of the workers who pushed a wheelbarrow with a pitchfork handle sticking out the end. “I’m looking for Morty Moore or Drake Dexter.”

The man was shaped like a keg of beer with strong meaty arms from hauling poop all day. He wiped his brow with the back of a hand. “I haven’t seen Morty in about a week, ma’am, so I can’t help you there. Mr. Dexter should be over in the horse arena.”

I’d been ma’am-ed. Holy crap, all of a sudden I was old enough to be ma’am-ed. It was all downhill from here. “The horse arena’s the big building?”

“That's it. Go through the door on the west side. Can’t miss Mr. Dexter. Big cowboy hat and a mustache.”

I thanked him and left the building. Sounded like I was searching for the Marlboro Man. Shouldn’t be too hard to spot, although in Montana, and on a ranch, there were probably a lot of Marlboro Men. But, as I followed the instructions and went through the west door, hello! There was Mr. Drake Dexter, Marlboro Man. Yup, he was the epitome of every woman’s romance novel fantasy cowboy. He must have made lots of money from the royalties off all those cigarette billboards.

Tall, whoa, well over six feet. Solid, built as if he drank lots of fresh mountain water and ate lots of good meat growing up. Maybe some Wheaties, too. He wore Wrangler jeans, work boots, a long sleeved white western shirt with snap buttons. He had a honkin’ silver belt buckle probably won doing something ludicrously dangerous, most likely on the back of a live, ornery animal. The hat was huge. It was definitely a five gallon one. White and well worn.

When the worker had said mustache, I instantly thought a caterpillar above the lip. This was a full blown caterpillar above the lip plus handlebars down the sides to his jaw. The man could grow a mustache. His skin was tan, slightly weathered from being out in the elements. His hair was dark, although most was hidden beneath the super-sized hat. He was crazy handsome in that rugged, cowboy sort of way. The man you dreamt about riding his horse, scooping you up with one arm, placing you in front of him in the saddle and riding off into the sunset.

This guy gave me an instant zing, although this was a fantasy zing. No way in hell was I compatible with a man who dealt with horses and cows all day. Drake Dexter turned and saw me. His eyes roamed over my body. Not casually, but boldly, as if he was admiring a new piece of horseflesh. Okay, a fantasy zing felt pretty darn good as I had a hot flash that burned in all the special places.

“Mr. Dexter?” I asked when he came and stood close to me. A little too close. He put one arm on the rail that ran around the ring. I had to look up to meet eyes. It was like being sucked into a black hole. There was no oxygen.

“Dex.” He smiled. Yikes, he was intense. His look, his stance, his entire being exuded power. Cockiness.

I held out my hand. He took it in his large, dinner plate sized one, his grip strong and forceful. He held on a tad too long for my comfort level. “Jane West. I…um….” Now, standing here with his brown eyes on me, it was hard to put into words what I wanted to say. “I believe I have some sperm that belongs to you.”

Dex raised one eyebrow. “You believe? I guarantee you’d remember if you had some of my sperm.” His eyes roved over my body once more as if looking for where the sperm was.

I blushed from the roots of my hair to my toes. I couldn’t see it, but I felt the flush everywhere. I wanted to sink into the floor and die. Had I actually said that? To a complete stranger?
I believe I have some sperm that belongs to you
. It couldn’t get worse than that. “Let me start over. I found a vial with sperm in it and I think it came from your ranch.”

Dex smiled. “That’s something different entirely. I don’t forget where I put my sperm.”

Ewww, gross.

Chapter Seven

Dex’s smile changed to a leer. “I don’t put my sperm in a vial.” He didn’t say more, although obviously he was making a point by what he didn’t say. As if I didn’t know where he
put
his sperm. “Our stallions are some of the best and
their
sperm is put in vials. We provide stud services to other ranches who want superior bloodlines in their quarter horses by bringing their mares here to be inseminated. We also ship semen to ranches around the world when it’s too far to travel.”

“So it’s likely I ended up with a vial that was to be shipped out?”

“Where did you find it?” He ran his hand over his mustache.

I looked at the snap buttons on his shirt. “Um, in a garden gnome.”

Dex’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

I looked him in the eye. “I bought the gnomes at a garage sale.”

Nodding his head, Dex asked, “How do you connect a vial of sperm inside a garden gnome, which you bought at a garage sale, and my ranch?”

I didn’t blame him if he thought I was crazy. It sounded ridiculous. Ridiculous, but true. “I got it by accident, actually, from Morty Moore. I’ve been told he works here.”

Dex looked over his shoulder and gave a casual wave to a man leading a horse out of the ring. “I have over two hundred employees working for me. I don’t know everyone by name. It’s certainly possible this man, Morty Moore, works here.” He pushed off the railing. I stepped back. “Let me make a call.” He pulled a cell from his shirt pocket and did some fancy dialing.

It was plausible Dex didn’t know the name of every employee, but in a ranch of this caliber, a man who was clearly in charge—of everything—it would seem likely he’d be very familiar with all of his workers. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who left anything to chance. There was something really off about Dex, something a little creepy. Make that a lot creepy. The way he looked at me, the snide sexual comments. They weren’t flirty, they were possessive, overly aggressive, and not just dominant, but disrespectful.

I listened in as he asked someone about Morty Moore, then hung up. “Morty worked seasonally with the cattle. Spring season is big for when we brand and castrate the calves.”

Chopping off calf balls. Good times.

“Is he here today? I’d really like to talk to him.” I knew he wasn’t here as I’d talked with the man in the stable. What would Dex say?

“The resource manager said Morty hasn’t shown up for work in over a week.” Dex shrugged his shoulders. “It happens. Turnover around here in some jobs, like working with the cattle, is pretty high.”

I was disappointed. A dead end. Or was it? I’d seen Morty two nights ago fleeing my house. Ty had confirmed that Morty’s parents hadn’t heard from him in a week. He hadn’t been to work in a week either. Were Ty and I the last to have seen him?

“Sure. Thanks for your help.” I offered a quick smile and turned to walk away.

“Where’s the vial now?” Dex asked in a friendly voice.

I turned back around. “Freezer. I’m guessing it’s no good for you anymore so I’ll just throw it out.” I lied. I hadn’t put it in my freezer. I’d have to buy a new one if I had. To save myself the expense, I chucked it into the trash can.

He gave a brief nod and gently took my arm. He obviously didn’t care one way or the other about the missing vial. “I’ll give you a tour before you go.”

It seemed Dex didn’t ask, he told. He steered me away from the ring and toward a side door. “Um, okay.” Looked like I was going to get a tour of a horse ranch. Whether I wanted to or not.

Although if I put up a stink I knew Dex would let me leave. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who liked to make a scene. The tour probably wasn’t a bad idea though. I might learn something about the vial and Morty’s interest in it. I knew less than nothing now about the whole business. I wouldn’t have minded being asked though. Bossy, bossy.

“So did you start this ranch all on your own? It’s very impressive,” I asked, trying to make small talk. Nothing like boosting up a man’s ego. If I was going to stick around, it made sense to learn something, and do it with a man willing to talk. Dex might help me, unknowingly, learn more about Morty and help track him down.

Dex still had his hand on my arm, his skin warm in contact with mine. The initial attraction, that fantasy zing, was all gone. He might be super handsome, but that was it.

“My parents were cattle ranchers on this land since the fifties. I found a passion for horses and added the equine enterprise to the ranch.”

“Are your parents still involved in the property?”

“They’ve been dead a long time. What about you? What do you do with yourself? I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

We’d left the horse arena, cut through the bright sunshine and approached a third building. This one was smaller, about fifty feet square. It too, had gray siding and green trim. All of the buildings matched.

“Um, no. I’m a widow.”

Dex stopped in his tracks and gazed down at me. “Good. Wouldn’t want to fight a husband for you.”

My brain stalled. Good? That I was a widow? He didn’t want to fight a husband for me? Yikes! I’d known the man less than ten minutes. He was serious. I could tell from the look in his eye. Like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. Gross.

“Boss!” a man in a green ranch shirt called from the door. “We’re ready.” Dex let go of me and raised his arm in response. The man ducked back inside.

Dex broke eye contact with me. Phew!

“I really need to get back,” I said. “I don’t want to interrupt your day.”

“You’re not interrupting anything. I don’t get beautiful guests very often.” He smiled down at me then started walking, heading toward the man who called to him. “What do you do for a living?” he asked over his shoulder.

Obviously I was supposed to follow. “I…um…run Goldilocks in Bozeman.” I had to walk quickly to keep up with his long stride.

“Goldilocks?” he asked.

“Adult store.”

He stopped and looked me over again. How many times was he planning on doing that? He grinned and a new light came to his eyes. “Really? Then you’re sure to find this part of the tour right up your alley.”

I wasn’t sure what running an adult store had to do with a horse farm. He held the door for me and I entered first. Skeptical.

“This is the breeding shed where we provide our stud service.”

Shed was not the word I’d use to describe the place. I had a shed in the back yard I used to store the lawn mower and yard tools. Some people used the woodshed to spank their kids when they were bad. This was something else entirely. The room was large with a strange stand in the middle. It was well lit and operating-room clean. One area off to the right was a horse stall with a half gate and straw on the ground. No lawnmower in sight.

“This is the room where we collect semen on the phantom mare for artificial insemination. Mares are brought from all over and come to the Double D to be bred with our studs. Instead of the old-fashioned way, they’re inseminated via pipette directly into the uterus to avoid being harmed by a rough stallion.”