Back In Texas. Roxanne Rustand

Leland Havens clapped Ryan on the shoulder, then winced in sympathy as Ryan flinched. “Sorry. I didn’t think. How’re you doing, now? Better?”

      “Fine.” Ignoring the pain radiating down his arm, Ryan took a step back and hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his Levi’s.

      The years had been kinder to Clint than they’d been to his lifelong friend. Deep creases lined Leland’s cheeks, his hair had thinned to a few long wisps on top. His once imposing, elegant frame no longer stood quite as tall. The man had been Ryan’s boyhood mentor, and had once seemed as ageless as the massive live oaks lining the drive. Now, surely in his late sixties, he’d aged beyond his years and his mortality was all too apparent.

      “I’m glad you could drop in so soon. I imagine a young buck like you would rather spend a Saturday morning on horseback or out on a golf course, eh?”

      He waved Ryan to a chair in the corner of his office, motioned to his secretary from the open doorway, and then sat next to Ryan. “I suppose Garrett hightailed it off to some rodeo for the weekend?”

      “He left late Wednesday for Billings.” Without so much as a fast hello and goodbye for the eldest brother he’d once followed around like an orphan pup.

      Leland eyed Ryan thoughtfully. “Nothing his daddy says gets through to him. He’s heading for a full-body cast if he doesn’t quit chasin’ bulls and gold buckles every weekend.”

      “And the little buckle bunnies, from what Trevor says. I understand Garrett’s been busy leaving a trail of broken hearts from Canada to Houston.”

      “I keep warning him to be careful. All we need is one avaricious gal who knows the Gallagher name, and the potential for a paternity suit and bad press shoots to the moon.”

      A valid concern, Ryan supposed. With that deep-dimpled, aw-shucks grin and devilish twinkle in his eye, Garrett had always been a charmer. He’d usually gotten exactly what he wanted while making others feel happy to hand it over.

      “At least Trevor is well settled,” Leland continued. “Nice wife, kids.”

      “And works his tail off, from what I’ve seen so far.”

      Leland took a pair of half reading glasses from the breast pocket of his coat, settled them low on his nose, then studied Ryan over the rim. “He’s a good hands-on manager. He knows cattle, horses, people.”

      “But…?” Ryan raised a brow.

      “He doesn’t have the skills or the foresight to handle the broader picture. We just need to get past the Nate Cantrell incident, put the ranch affairs back in order and hire a permanent manager.”

      “Well, my skills aren’t exactly current, unless Dad needs a sniper with an M4 guarding the ranch.”

      A portly secretary dressed in a severe black skirt and jacket marched in with a tray of coffee cups and a small coffeepot. After settling the tray on the end table between them, she bustled out, closing the door firmly behind her.

      Leland leaned forward to hand Ryan a cup, then cradled the other one in both hands and smiled at him affectionately. “Your brothers wanted you here, so look at this as a chance to rest up, after all you’ve been through.” He paused. “You’ve given enough of your life to the service. With your business degree, you could head for Chicago or New York, if you want something besides cedars, sand and sagebrush in your backyard.”

      “I’m still on active duty. I plan to go back as soon as I can.”

      Leland’s sympathetic gaze drifted to Ryan’s knee as he put his cup down. “Maybe you’d like to, but—”

      Ryan struggled to curb his irritation. “After surgeries and rehab, they’re even able to return some amputees to the front lines. I’ll go back, even if I have to be an instructor.”

      “Of course, of course.” Leland lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Forgive me.”

      Ryan winced. Leland had always kept the best interests of the Gallaghers at heart, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Ryan’s unpredictable bitterness. “No…the apology should be mine.”

      Clasping his hands loosely in his lap, Leland leaned back and gave Ryan a fatherly smile. “That time when you got your first Purple Heart, a few years ago? There was mention of it at a high school graduation assembly. After that, at least five elementary classrooms started sending letters and gift boxes to servicemen in Iraq.” He shook his head in wonderment. “Townsfolk filled those collection boxes to overflowing.”

      Surprised and a little embarrassed, Ryan looked away. “At least some good came out of it. I didn’t realize anyone even knew.”

      Leland laughed. “Then you probably don’t remember the Niebauers, who run the Herald. Millicent isn’t bigger than a minute, but she’s got a nose for news and the tenacity of a bulldog. Though, come to think of it, she didn’t get wind of your injuries a few months ago. Just the Purple Heart.”

      “So how bad are things out at the ranch—really?”

      “Really?” He shook his head slowly. “Up until a few years ago, your father watched over both his political career and the ranch with a sharp eye. Nothing got past that man—nothing. Then his vision started failing, but of course being Clint, he never let on. We know Nate got away with at least sixty grand, but the books are such a mess that it could be double that, easily.”

      “Pretty much what Trevor said…and what I found in the forensic accountant’s report.”

      “Clint may be snarling about your arrival, but I’m sure he’s angrier at himself than he is at anyone else. Once he simmers down, he’ll be grateful.”

      “So I’m just supposed to reorganize the bookkeeping system?” Ryan sighed. “That’s something a good office manager would do.”

      “Not with Clint bird-dogging every last step of the way…and it’s not just the bookkeeping, either. You could revamp the hunting lease program, and maybe work on marketing angles that will get it moving. I’m not sure but that the quarter horse and beef cattle programs won’t need some work, as well.” Leland grabbed a legal pad on his desk, ran a forefinger down a list of notes, then set the pad back down. “Whatever you can do while you’re here will help the new manager who follows you. I’ll assist in any way I can.”

      “And the missing money?”

      “Honestly, it’s a lost cause.” Leland splayed his fingers on his thighs. “But if you come across anything—any clues whatsoever—let me know immediately. I’ll get the private investigator on it right away.” Leland studied Ryan over the rim of his glasses again. “The corporation needs that money back, but this situation can’t get out to the press or the sheriff’s office—either way, news will spread. Clint’s political rivals would have a heyday crowing about him ‘allowing’ his own business to end up in such disarray. This next election will likely be his last, and there are still issues that mean a great deal to him.”

      “Right.” Ryan shifted in his chair, wishing he’d taken a couple Tylenol before leaving the ranch. “After all this time, the horses are out of the barn, anyway.”

      “The loss came at a bad time. Remember the K-Bar-C?”

      “The Braxton place. Shares part of our eastern property line.”

      “Place went up for auction twelve years ago. A group of locals formed a consortium, bought it and also picked up some smaller properties to create KC Enterprises. Every one of those investors had dreams of making big money. Some of them poured their life savings into the deal, some mortgaged their own property to scrape enough money together.”

      The K-Bar-C… “Trevor filled me in on some of this already, and I do know Dad and Braxton weren’t the best of friends,” Ryan mused. “Clyde’s place was upstream on the aquifer that supplies the Four Aces, and I vaguely remember Dad ranting about water rights.”