by.
Once the first group of animals were loaded, they began sorting the second pen. Bawling protests decorated the dusty air. Cowboys called to each other as they moved the calves and pushed the current bunch down the chute, peeling off those Reagan indicated she wanted to assess a little closer. One truck driver after another climbed around shipping trailers like monkeys, opening and closing interior gates to make sure the weight distribution of the oncoming cattle was beneficial for the haul to the sale ring.
A larger yearling turned back. Nose high, the whites of his eyes showed as he tried to work his way against the flow.
Reagan scanned the corral. “Brisket!”
A blue merle body darted between the men and their horses, arrowing toward her. The Border collie stopped twenty feet away, crouched and ready, focused on her as he waited for instruction. With a short whistle and pointed finger toward the offender, she set him loose.
The dog wove through the masses. Reaching the bottleneck, he started nipping with a strike-retreat-strike approach, turning the steer around and driving the herd forward with unparalleled efficiency.
It took a couple more hours to sort the remaining calves, and Reagan was officially exhausted by the time they finished. Carol Jensen approached her with a tall glass of tea, a barbecue sandwich wrapped in waxed paper, and a genuine smile. Such a nice person, and her husband was much the same.
Accepting the drink first, Reagan sighed. “Thanks, Carol.”
“What was the total count?”
“We vaccinated and loaded 812 today. I held back a handful that weren’t ready or seemed a little sickly to ship to market. The other cows are ready to be driven to the bull pasture for breeding. Overall, with price-per-pound holding steady at $212 a hundredweight? Should be a very profitable day.”
“Glad to hear it.” Reaching into her pocket, Carol pulled out a second sandwich. “Brisket around?”
Reagan smiled and shook her head as the dog trotted up and sat at the other woman’s feet. “No wonder he likes to visit you.”
“He works hard enough he should probably be paid day wages.”
“We talked about it, but he decided long ago that self-employment taxes suck. Besides, I’m pretty sure he prefers to be paid with barbecue.”
In apparent agreement, Brisket took his sandwich and sprinted across the arena. He dropped down in the shade of the barn and began ripping off the waxed paper to get to the treat, his tail thumping a happy beat.
Ty sauntered over, his horse’s reins draped loosely over his shoulder. The giant quarter horse followed along, appearing to be more docile pet than high-dollar cutting horse. Ty smiled and winked, the picture of innocence. “You have another sandwich for a starving man, Mrs. Jensen?”
“You’re a menace to the female population,” Carol said primly. Still, she started to head for the house. “I’ll bring you a couple sandwiches. You want tea or lemonade?”
“Whatever you have is fine. I’d get it myself, but I’m too dirty to do much more than strip down and wash in the stock tank.”
Reagan hid her grin when Carol blushed.
Flustered, the woman fled.
“You’re a nuisance, Ty.” Reagan finished her sandwich and leaned against the corral fence, one boot heel hung on a rail.
“I’m harmless,” he countered, pulling his hat off and shaking out light brown hair darkened with sweat.
“You’re as harmless as a bad case of ringworm. Treatable, but still a pain in the ass.”
Denim-blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Treatable, am I? Come over tonight and I’ll play patient to your doctor.”
Reagan pulled her vaccine gun out, the massive needle glinting in the bright sunlight. “Why wait? Drop your drawers, and I’ll take care of you right this minute.”
Ty blanched. “Not exactly the kind of action I had in mind if my pants came off.”
One corner of her mouth curled up. “Chicken shit.”
“Hey, if you weren’t so hot, I wouldn’t feel compelled to flirt.”
This time she laughed. “Ty, you’d flirt with an octogenarian if she was the only woman around. You can’t help yourself.”
His horse nosed him, shoving him toward her a step. “You know it’s all in fun.”
She waggled the vaccine gun at him and fought the urge to smile. “Only because my gun’s bigger.”
“That’s an unfair comparison. You’ve never seen my gun.”
“No offense, but I’m not interested in your caliber.” Her stomach tightened at the memory of just what caliber she had once been very interested in—the same caliber that forced her off the road only hours earlier. Keeping busy had helped her forget him, but now her mind raced.
Chewing her bottom lip, she glanced at Ty. “Today, in town, I...well, I was run off the road by...”
He scrutinized her, and Reagan wondered what he saw. When he sobered, she knew. The barbecue sandwich that had cut through hunger pangs only moments ago now sat like a lead cannonball in her stomach. She swallowed convulsively. It took a minute to work the question around the emotion lodged in her throat. “What’s he doing here, Ty?”
Dark brows winged down and he shoved sunglasses on to cover his eyes. “I asked Eli to come home for this thing involving Dad.”
Her chin snapped around. “Doesn’t the fact you had to ask him to come home tell you where he stands in all of this?”
“He should be here, Reagan. It’s his mess and his legacy as much as it is ours.” Full lips thinned. “Cade and I are going to need his help to sort out the mess Dad left us in. Our best chance at saving the ranch involves Eli...and you.”
The blood drained from her face at being paired, even loosely, in a sentence with Eli. “You can’t be sure your herd’s got Shipping Fever until the lab results come back and I get out there and look at the steer we drew from.”
“I grew up around this stuff. I know what it is.” He snorted and shook his head, hooking one arm through the pipe panel. “It’s going to ruin Dad’s perfect reputation.”
“He wasn’t perfect,” she said softly, remembering how Mr. Covington had always been so cold and rigid in his expectations of Eli. Those expectations had succeeded in driving Eli away for good, and she’d never forgive the old man for it.
Carol’s return with two sandwiches and a giant glass of lemonade interrupted the conversation. She’d also brought Ty cookies. “I thought you might want something sweet.”
Reagan fought the urge to steal a cookie.
As if the conversation hadn’t been deadly serious only moments before, Ty looked at the older woman and grinned wide enough to reveal a single dimple. “You’re an angel, Mrs. Jensen. You ever get
