opened her briefcase and pulled out a recent issue of the magazine. Alex handed it to him. “I write for this publication.” She explained about wanting to stay ahead of national trends in the food business and what it meant for the economy. “The little research I’ve done tells me there’s a rise in the demand for lamb, which is unusual. I’m out here to find out why.”
“It’s about time,” he muttered.
Again she didn’t quite understand his meaning. “Go ahead and scan some of the articles.”
“I’ll read yours here on seafood consumption.” He spent ten minutes perusing it before looking up. “You really know what you’re about, don’t you? How come neither mutton nor lamb was even mentioned as a protein source?”
“I had to quote the information I was given from a graph quoting comparisons of meat and fish, but I’m puzzled, too. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here.”
“But I’m the wrong person to help you with the kind of information you need.”
“Why is that? The administration at the Wool Growers Association in Casper said you’re the person who has all the answers.”
He laughed. “They were just pulling your leg.”
Disappointment swept through her. Maybe her subject being hard of hearing made it more difficult to do an interview. “Mr. Fielding—”
“The name’s Royden.” He cut her off. “You want the nitty-gritty of this business? You need to talk to my grandson, Wyatt. That’s his picture on the mantel.”
Alex hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him since she’d entered the room. “But he’s in a firefighter’s dress uniform.”
“He’s a rancher and sheepman first. Wyatt knows it all. He ought to, since I taught him everything.” The man’s gray eyes twinkled.
Her spirits were suddenly lifted again, but she did wonder why he didn’t want her to interview him. “Would he be willing to talk to me?”
“He would, but he’s up in the mountains right now at his camp.”
“How soon will he be back?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “That’s when I have to return to New York. My flight is already booked.”
“I thought you were from New Jersey.”
“I am, but my apartment and the magazine office are in Manhattan. Could I phone him?”
“He’s beyond cell range. Can’t you stay longer?”
“I wish I could.”
“For you to come all the way out here for a story does you great credit, young lady.”
Alex laughed. She hadn’t been called that since she was a little girl.
“Tell you what. I’ll ask Jose to drive you up to the pasture right now. You’ll have to stay overnight.”
“But I’m not equipped.”
“Have you ever camped out?”
“A few times at the beach with my family.”
He shook his head. “Not the same thing, but don’t worry. Wyatt will have everything to accommodate you. Jose will go back for you tomorrow afternoon. That way you can get an interview with Wyatt before you have to fly home. He’ll give you some angles you hadn’t counted on.”
Mr. Fielding had just offered her a solution and she was going to take it, even if it meant roughing it for a night! She would have to call and cancel her hotel reservation.
“If Jose will do that for me, I’d be very grateful to him and you.”
“You sit tight while I give him a call. I’ll ask Martha to find my wife’s sheepskin-lined parka along with her cowboy boots and gloves. You look the same size as my Ida. She passed away two years ago.”
“Thank you.” She studied him for a minute. “I’m sorry you lost your wife.”
“So am I. When I shot myself by accident out hunting it brought on her fatal heart attack.”
Alex’s eyes closed tightly for a minute while she tried to take in the gravity of those tragedies. Despite the importance of following through on this assignment for the magazine, she had a feeling his life’s story would be more amazing than any information she could glean from his grandson about sheep.
* * *
BY LATE AFTERNOON the wind had picked up. Wyatt eyed the roiling clouds and noted the drop in temperature. By nightfall a storm would hit. He might have known the great weather couldn’t last. Thank heaven he and Pali had brought down the last third of their thousand head of sheep to the seven-thousand-foot area of scrubland. The Fieldings owned some of it and leased additional acres.
Wyatt would keep the sheep at this elevation until mid-November, then take them down to the irrigated fields where the ranch’s crops were grown.
Only three ewes had been lost. His grandfather would be ecstatic to hear about that. Tomorrow they’d have to examine each animal and take care of those needing immediate attention.
While Wyatt was straightening up his camp for the impending storm, Gip started barking. A minute later, Wyatt saw Jose’s white truck coming up over the ridge. He honked the horn. The noise brought Pali out of his trailer.
Wyatt’s heart failed him. Something must have happened to his grandfather, otherwise Jose wouldn’t be here. Unable to bear the thought, he headed toward the truck. But as he got closer, he saw that Jose wasn’t alone. He’d brought a blonde woman with him, maybe midtwenties. What in the hell?
When the truck stopped, she jumped down from the cab in jeans and a T-shirt. The cold wind that was growing stronger by the second molded the fabric to her beautiful body. She was also wearing his grandmother’s cowboy boots and carrying her parka, of all things.
His gaze traveled upward to her oval face with green eyes as lush as the patches of grass growing in the mountain passes. Her hair was cut in a cute, short style that the wind kept rearranging.
Gip ran over to Jose who got out of the truck and lowered a suitcase to the ground.
“I’ve brought you a visitor. This is Alex Dorney from back East. She came to the ranch to talk to the boss, but he sent her up here to see you. Since this storm is going to hit soon, I need to get back down the mountain. My kids are home for a few days. I’ll be back tomorrow to get her.” With those words of explanation, he got into the truck.
“Wait a minute!”
But Jose was too quick for him. Within seconds he’d started the engine and taken off.
Wyatt turned to the woman, who cocked her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fielding. Your grandfather said there was no service up here to alert you I was coming.”
The old man must he losing
