A Rancher's Christmas. Ann Roth

times here, but I saw my uncle struggle every year. I know how hard it is to work from dawn to dusk, sometimes longer, all the while praying that Mother Nature behaves so that you can make a profit and survive another year. Sorry, but I’ll pass.”

      She wore a stubborn look that reminded Zach of Lucky. With that and the defiant lift of her chin, Zach knew she’d made up her mind. Still, he had a promise to keep. “At least think about it for a few days. For Lucky.”

      “You’re playing the guilt card. That isn’t fair.” Once again, she caught her lip between her teeth. “Even if I wanted to keep the ranch, and believe me, I don’t, I don’t see how that’s possible. I live in Chicago. That’s where my job—my life—is, and where I want to be. I’m a city girl now. Lucky’s known for years that I wasn’t coming back here.”

      “He left you the ranch anyway.” Zach let the words hang there for a moment. “Ranching is good, honest work,” he added.

      “And for the most part, ranchers are good people—I know that. But it doesn’t pay, not for the Lucky A. I don’t have to look at my uncle’s bank statement to know that he doesn’t have two dimes to his name. He always struggled to keep his head above water. I decided long ago that this wasn’t the life for me.”

      “Lucky used to talk about how you helped with the chores around here and how you enjoyed taking care of the animals and being outside.”

      “When I was little, I did.”

      Zach tried a different tack. “Can you honestly say you’re happy with your life?”

      “What are you, my psychiatrist?” she quipped, but she looked like a deer in headlights. “I’m a creative person, and I get to use that creativity in my work.”

      She hadn’t answered the question, which in itself was an answer. “You didn’t look like you were being creative when you walked off the plane last night,” Zach said. “You looked ready to drop.”

      “I don’t mind the long hours because it means that I’m successful and productive. And FYI, I happen to thrive on stress and a big workload.”

      Having been there, Zach understood. He also knew that that kind of adrenaline never resulted in long-term satisfaction. “So you enjoy life on the human hamster wheel.”

      “Sometimes it does seem like that, but... You couldn’t possibly understand.”

      “Because I’m a ranch foreman.” Stung, Zach crossed his arms. “You don’t know anything about what I understand. You don’t know anything about me.” He considered explaining about the company he’d once owned, the things he’d done for the bottom line and the terrible price he’d paid. But that was his business. Besides, it was behind him now.

      The starch went out of her spine. “That was rude, and I apologize.”

      Zach nodded. She angled her head and really looked at him. “You’re right. I know very little about you, except that you’re from Houston. There are ranches all over Texas. How did you end up at the Lucky A in Saddlers Prairie, Montana?”

      “I needed a change.” Which was all he was going to say. “You should know that I made a promise to Lucky that I’d convince you to keep the ranch.”

      “You’re trying to change the subject. Don’t tell me—you left Houston because you’re a criminal.” Her eyebrows arched and her eyes twinkled, lighting her whole face.

      “Very funny. Nope.” Not directly, anyway. In his own eyes, he was. The family of Sam Swain, the man who’d suffered a heart attack and died after Zach had forged the business deal that had undercut what he wanted, probably agreed. But Zach’s family and fiancée at the time hadn’t believed he’d done anything wrong—except when he’d sold his own company.

      “You’re going to have to break your promise to Lucky. I can’t possibly—”

      Not wanting to hear it, Zach held up his hands, palms out. “Just listen.”

      She sighed. “All right, but I’ve made up my mind.”

      “You no doubt know that people all over the country, maybe even the world, romanticize cowboys and ranching. Some even dream of living the ranching life. Why not indulge in that dream by offering a working vacation on a ranch?”

      “You’re talking about a dude ranch.” She was tuned in now, her eyes bright and interested.

      “Exactly. A few months ago, Lucky and I started laying out plans for turning the Lucky A into a working dude ranch. Imagine visitors staying for a weekend or as long as two weeks, paying for ‘the ranching experience,’” he said, making air quotes, “and providing free labor. In return, the Lucky A supplies lodging, meals and expertise.”

      “Uncle Lucky thought that up?” Gina looked confused.

      “Actually, I did, but Lucky jumped at the idea, especially after we penciled out the numbers. We’d have to update the bunkhouse and hire a cook, but if we brought in just twenty people a month between May and October, we’d break even.”

      “My uncle has never penciled out numbers for anything.” Gina gave him a shrewd look. “Something tells me you haven’t always been a ranch foreman.”

      “I’ve dabbled in a few other things. What do you think about the Lucky A Dude Ranch?”

      “I have questions. These days, the crew lives in trailers. The bunkhouse hasn’t been used for years, except for storage. Getting it in working order will take a lot of updating. Where does the money to make those improvements come from?”

      “We penciled that out, too. The wiring and plumbing are in decent enough shape, but the building needs more insulation and a new furnace and air conditioner, plus paint and new fixtures. I can do everything but install the heating and cooling systems, which will save a bundle. The estimated cost will be roughly twenty to thirty thousand dollars.”

      “That’s a lot of money.”

      Zach put up his hand, palm out, to silence her. “Lucky and I talked to the bank and they were willing to loan him half of that. If beef prices stay high, we figured he’d net the rest by spring. Once the business is up and running and profitable and the loan is paid back, we’ll look into adding a couple of cabins.”

      Gina stacked her mug on top of her empty plate. “As intriguing as the idea is, you can count me out.”

      He’d expected this. “You say that now, but I’m not giving up.” He scraped his chair back and stood. “Thanks for the coffee and toast. Before I forget, the combination to your uncle’s safe is his dad’s birthday, April 5, zero four zero five one nine. I’ll let myself out.”

      He left her sitting at the table.

      * * *

      THAT AFTERNOON, ZACH, Curly and Bert, two of the crew members, checked the water troughs that provided a steady supply of water to the cattle. Sometime during the night, the heater in the big water tank had failed and the water had frozen in the pipes. Thirsty cattle had ventured onto the ice at the river, which was slippery and dangerous. Pete, a mechanical whiz, was already at work repairing the heater.

      Donning safety glasses, the three of them wielded shovels and pickaxes to break the stuff up in the troughs and remove it. Then, with the help of a blowtorch, they began to melt the water in the pipes. For now the cattle would have the water they needed.

      They were almost finished when Zach’s cell phone rang. He pulled off a glove and slid the phone from his jacket pocket. He didn’t recognize the number, but the 312 area code was Chicago’s. Had to be Gina.

      He’d been thinking about her pretty much nonstop since that morning. Everything about her both fascinated and irritated him. The cute expression on her face when she told him about the awful coffee she’d made, her pretty smile and the way her eyes had sparked when she defended her career. How her breasts had looked in that sweater.

      Zach