Return to Oak Valley (29 page)

Shelly had been looking forward to meeting Tracy Kingsley in person, but she had been taken aback when the vet had shown up at the barn forty-five minutes ago and she had caught sight of the big Suburban pulling up behind the vet's green pickup. Shelly noticed that behind Sloan's vehicle was a white two-horse trailer. The reason for the horse trailer became apparent when, with a polite nod in her direction, Sloan had exited the vehicle and walked around to the back and began unloading a pair of horses. The second horse, a leggy buckskin-and-white gelding, was for Nick, and her eyes narrowed when she saw the friendly way Sloan and Nick greeted each other. Well, well. Funny that Nick had never mentioned that he and Sloan were such good buddies.

A smile on her face, her hand outstretched, Tracy had said, “Hi, I'm Tracy Kingsley, and you must be Shelly Granger.” As the two women shook hands, Tracy added, “It's nice to meet you in person. Josh spoke of you often, and I enjoyed talking to you on the phone the other day when you set up the appointment.”

There were a few minutes of polite conversation between the group of five; Nick, Sloan, Acey, Tracy, and Shelly. Despite Sloan's disturbing presence, Shelly found herself relaxing and liking the vet—and determined to ignore Sloan.

Garbed in worn blue jeans, a green-checked shirt, and comfortable leather boots, her red hair caught back in a ponytail, Tracy had a friendly, competent air about her. She looked to be in her mid-to-late thirties, and while she wasn't a beauty, she was very attractive with her slim build, intelligent blue eyes, and smiling mouth. When the conversation turned to the cattle, it was obvious that while horses and small animals might be her specialty, she was very knowledgeable about cattle, too. The easy give-and-take among the others also told Shelly that they were no strangers to each other.

“You been out to the Broken Spoke lately?” Nick asked Tracy with a grin. The Broken Spoke, Shelly knew, consisted of thousands of acres of wild and rough mountainous terrain that had been owned by the Bransford family for several generations. The ranch was remote—being about twenty-five miles out on the Tilda Road—and since the Tilda Road had all the curves of a snake's back and was graveled to boot, remote meant
remote.

Tracy grimaced and shook her head. “Nooo thank you. Once was enough.”

Sloan laughed. “Don't tell me old Bransford had you out there to actually doctor something?”

Even Shelly remembered that the Bransfords were known for their cut-and-dried attitude toward their animals. Sick or hurt, cow, horse, or dog, except for some basic tending, it got better, died, or was shipped to slaughter. “Got no truck with this wasting time and fussing over critters crap,” old Ted Bransford had been heard to exclaim on more than one occasion. “They're
animals
, for Christ's sake!”

Tracy grimaced at Sloan's question. “Yes, he did—seems he had this expensive cow dog he'd bought last year and he wanted me to look at it.”

Nick snickered, and Tracy's lips quirked. “He told me that the dog had just been lying there out back doing nothing for a couple of days, not eating or drinking, and he thought as how I might take a look at it, considering how much money he had paid for it. I suggested that he bring the dog into the clinic, but he informed me that he was a busy man and didn't have the time and wasn't about to take the time. I was a mobile vet, wasn't I? He had a point, and I was concerned about the dog, so I drove out all twenty-five miles of wretched road to his place.” She shook her head disgustedly. “When I got there, the dog was dead.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Shelly said. “Too bad he hadn't called you earlier.”

Nick burst out laughing and Tracy muttered, “He would have had to have called me a
lot
earlier. The dog hadn't just died, Shelly—it had been dead for three or four days. Good thing it was cold weather, or it would've been crawling with maggots.” At Shelly's look of incredulity, Tracy nodded, and added, “Yes, I mean dead. Dead. Dead. Stiff as a board and deader than a doornail. I told him as much, and he just looked down at the dog, and said, ‘Guess that explains why he wasn't moving around much.’”

“Are you serious?” Shelly demanded, torn between shock and amusement.

Tracy nodded. “Yes, indeedy. A real caring, observant soul is Mr. Bransford.”

“Just be glad there aren't too many like him around,” Sloan said.

Tracy snorted. “Yeah, right. There's too many for my liking—believe me, I could tell you some tales that would make even your hair stand up.”

Pulling on his mustache, Acey said, “OK, that's enough jawing. We got work to do and I'd like to get it done today, if you all don't mind. This ain't no tea party.”

Shelly and Tracy exchanged a grin. Her bright blue eyes dancing, Tracy said, “Well, don't get your shorts in a twist, Acey. We'll get your ladies all sorted out in no time.”

And true to her word, they did. Riding their horses, Nick and Sloan herded the cattle into the catch pen and Acey prodded them toward the squeeze chute. Once caught, Tracy wormed, shot, and preg tested when necessary and Shelly acted as her assistant, handing wormer, plastic gloves, lubricant, or syringe as needed, and kept track of the paperwork. The work progressed smoothly and swiftly.

To Shelly's relief the ten pregnant cows were indeed pregnant. Sloan and Nick had cut them out from the herd first, and Shelly hadn't envied Tracy the job in front of her. Preg testing a cow was dirty, messy work, and the cows protested vigorously when Tracy eased her hand and arm, as far as her elbow, into their rectums to check for pregnancy. Shelly didn't blame the cows for bellowing at the insult. Manure flew, and by the time they were finished, Tracy's blue overalls, which she'd put on to protect her clothing, were ready for the wash. Smiling at Shelly as she slipped off the dirty, long plastic glove that covered her from fingertips to shoulder, Tracy said, “Unless I miss my guess, come October, November, you should have your first calves on the ground and be ready to rebreed your next crop.” She motioned to the cows. “Now let's get the rest of these babies done.”

Watching Nick and Sloan work the cattle in the big pen was fascinating, and Shelly found her gaze lingering on Sloan often and more than she liked. He looked very tough and virile in tight-fitting Levi's and a blue, long-sleeved chambray shirt open at the neck. His face was half-hidden by the brim of his black Stetson, and his concentration was all on the cows. The day was hot, and staring at a streak of sweat as it trickled down his dark cheek, she was conscious of a tingling in her breasts, and her breath quickened. That thin liquid line down the side of his face seemed to mesmerize her, and she imagined the taste of it, the scent, the saltiness of his skin if she were to kiss it away.

Almost as if he could feel her eyes on him, Sloan pulled on the reins and brought his black-and-white paint to a halt. Pushing back his hat, he stared at her across the width of the corral. His gaze fastened on her face, and Shelly flushed and looked away.

“My God, that's the first time I've ever seen that!” Tracy remarked, a sweaty grin on her face.

“What?” Shelly asked, glancing over at Tracy.

“A man eating a woman with his eyes. If you were a T-bone, I'd say Sloan was a starving man with a voracious appetite.”

“You're mistaken,” Shelly said swiftly. “There's nothing between us.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. You just keep right on believing that.”

Shelly made a face. “OK. There
is
something between us, I just don't know what—and I'd give anything in the world if there wasn't.”

Shelly tried to keep her eyes off Sloan after that; it was difficult, but she managed. Sort of. It was impossible not to stare as Nick and Sloan seemed effortlessly to move the cattle right where they wanted the animals. It didn't take her long to realize that they had some sort of contest going on—or that they were pitting the skill of their horses against each other. First Nick and then Sloan would point out a particular cow, then aim his horse at it and just sit back in the saddle and hang on as the horse expertly cut the cow from the herd and worked it to the catch pen. The horses' skill was breathtaking as they stopped on a dime, whirled, and, ears pinned to their skulls, crouched like cats, to prevent a stubborn cow from going in the wrong direction. Their movements were fluid and smooth, the sun making their coats glisten and, with ears laid back, heads held low, it was clear they meant business as they kept each animal moving precisely where they wanted.

Tracy stopped for a minute to watch the show. “Sloan's got some of the best cutting horses in the industry, and what you're seeing is an example of why.”

“The horses are really something, aren't they? It's like they can outthink the cow, that they know just what it's going to try next,” Shelly breathed, as Nick's buckskin, with no noticeable guidance from Nick, shot off after a cow that had tried to make a break for it.

They finished up just after noon, and Shelly invited Tracy to stay for lunch. Removing her filthy overalls, Tracy said, “I'd love to.” Washing her hands with the warm water from the tank she carried in the vet pack at the rear of the pickup, Tracy nodded to the cows. “You've got some fine animals there. How do you plan to breed?”

Nick and Sloan dismounted and after giving the horses a drink of water from the trough, tied them to the side of the trailer. Walking up to where Tracy and Shelly were standing and hearing Tracy's question, Nick said, “Shelly has an older bull that Josh didn't sell—he's got some great old Granger bloodlines. Granger's Ideal Beau is sound and fertile. We'll use him to breed our own bulls. Beau has several crosses to Beau Granger, and we're excited about reestablishing the bloodline.”

Beau Granger had been one of the best-known Granger bulls ever bred, and his fame had been nationwide. His get had commanded top dollar at Angus sales all across the United States, and nearly thirty years after his death, many of the top stock of today traced back to him.

“Didn't most of your cows carry a lot of the same blood?” Sloan asked, looking directly at Shelly. Except for that one brief moment, she'd ignored him all morning, and he was getting tired of it. Volunteering to help had seemed a good idea last Sunday when he and Nick had met at the recreation center to help with the cleaning up after the dance Saturday night. The pair of them and a half dozen other volunteers, Tom Smith in charge of the crew, had made short work of emptying trash cans, putting the folding tables and chairs away, and sweeping out the huge cement floor building. Someone else had already taken down the red, white, and blue crepe paper decorations from the ceiling. Four or five women, Debbie Smith and Cleo among them, had been in the kitchen, making certain that it was in order. When the job was done, Nick and Sloan had stopped to talk a minute about a mare Nick had bred to Sloan's buckskin-and-white paint stallion the previous month. The mare had been confirmed by Tracy to be in foal, and Nick had just happened to mention the arrival of the cattle. Since he was at loose ends and had been racking his brains for a way to insinuate himself back into Shelly's presence, it had seemed a heaven-sent opportunity. “I'll be glad to lend a hand when you get around to shots and worming,” Sloan had said casually. “I can even bring along Cognac for you to try out with the cattle. You can see how much cow he has in him.”

Cognac was a paint gelding that Nick had been thinking about buying, and he had leaped at the idea. “Great! I'll call you once the cows arrive and I know when Shelly wants to have the vet over.”

Sloan had known that Shelly wouldn't be well pleased to see him, but he figured, ah hell, he didn't know what he'd figured. He grimaced. Which was about par for his relationship with her. Still, he'd caught her looking at him, and from the look on her face, it hadn't been difficult to see what had been on her mind. He'd gotten a boner that would have done a stallion proud and had almost forgotten where he was. Something else she seemed to do to him whenever they were together.

At Sloan's question, forcing herself to be polite, Shelly glanced at him. And wished she hadn't. God! That dark, intensely masculine face, the blue chambray clinging in damp patches to his chest, the scent of horses and cows all around them made the most lustful images fill her mind.

Jerking her gaze away, Shelly said, “Yes, they did. Grangers always did a lot of line breeding. That's part of the reason I bought these particular cows—Granger Cattle Company didn't breed them, but they do carry several of our lines.”

Nick chimed in, “We're going to try to intensify those lines by doing as much line breeding as we can.” He looked discouraged. “It's going to be hard. My herd is small—not more than twenty cows, and I've only got two bulls—neither one a Granger direct.”

“Which is all the bull you need,” Acey said tartly. “Now come on, let's get out of the sun and go get some chow. I'm starving, and I need my vittles.” He glanced at the two women. Wiggling his eyebrows, his wise old eyes dancing, he murmured, “Fresh women and hot vittles keep a man young, don't you know.”

Chapter Fourteen

A
s they walked inside, the house was cool and inviting after the heat outside, and the scent of baked chicken and apple pie was floating in the air. Stopping in the mudroom, everyone washed up in the big old deep porcelain sink by the back door before trekking into the kitchen. As they spied the pile of food that Maria had laid out on the table, there was a collective moan of pleasure. Anticipating their arrival to within minutes, Maria had just put out tall frosted glasses for the pitcher of iced tea on the counter and taken an apple pie from the oven. Bliss.

Smiling over her shoulder at them as she placed a big blue bowl of potato salad on the table, she said, “I was watching for you. After this morning's work, I figured that you'd all be hungry as bears.”

Giving her a hug as she walked to the table, Shelly said, “Maria, don't ever even
think
of retiring. This is wonderful!”

Maria laughed. “I
am
retired, child, but I knew if I left the food to you and Nick, you'd all be eating peanut butter sandwiches.”