The Rancher Next Door. Cathy Thacker Gillen

getting in the pasture with your alpacas.”

      She would have laughed at the statistical absurdity of the statement had it not been for his warning expression. “Are you trying to give me a hard time?”

      “I’m trying to explain to you that even a stray cat or dog could spook your alpacas, and if they get spooked and start running and upset my cattle, we could have a stampede on our hands.”

      So it was back to the alpacas and cattle don’t mix theory of ranching. An old wives’ tale if she’d ever heard one. She planted her hands on her hips. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

      He let his gaze drift slowly over her before returning to her face. He leaned down so they were practically nose to nose. “And I think you need mesh fence on the inside of the split rail borders, for safety’s sake.”

      She dropped her hands and stepped back. “I can’t afford to do that right now, Trevor.”

      He shrugged, as unconcerned with the financial details of the situation as she was obsessed. “Then I’ll help you out.”

      His matter-of-fact offer sounded like a mixture of pity and charity. If she accepted either, word would get out, and she would never have the other ranchers’ respect.

      Rebecca shook her head, promising, “I’ll get to it as soon as I can, but until then we’re just going to have to make do.”

      Silence ticked out between them. “You sure that’s a chance you want to take?” he asked eventually.

      What choice did she have? She was on such a tight budget as it was, at least for the next month or so, the slightest catastrophe could catapult her into bankruptcy. Once she’d attracted outside investors, though, her situation would ease quickly.

      Gulping around the anxiety rising up within her, she tried to smooth things over while still stubbornly holding her ground. “Look, Trevor, the rest of the herd won’t be here for another ten days or so. As soon as I get past the Open House I’m having for potential investors, a week from Sunday,” and get past the balloon payment that is due on my operating loan, “I’ll take care of the fence. I promise.”

      Trevor looked like he wanted to continue debating her, but when he finally spoke it was only to ask, “Where are you going to house your herd at night?”

      “In the stalls in the barn. Which reminds me. I’ve really got to get cleaning if I want Blue Mist and that cria she’s carrying to have somewhere to sleep tonight.”

      Trevor took the hint, and left to tend to his own herd.

      Three hours later, Rebecca had scrubbed down the central cement corridor and two of the ten wooden-sided stalls. She was filthy from head to toe, and bone-tired to boot. Deciding to check on Blue Mist, she walked out to the pasture, and stopped in her tracks at what she saw.

      Chapter Four

      “Blue Mist doesn’t appear to be in labor,” Rebecca told veterinarian Tyler McCabe over the phone, minutes later. Struggling to recall everything she had read on the subject in preparation, and wishing her many books and articles— which were still on the moving truck due to be delivered any time now—were already in her possession, Rebecca continued describing the behavior of her prized alpaca. “She’s pacing, but not rolling around in the pasture. What concerns me more than the humming sound she’s making is the way she’s drooling, how tense she is. The way she’s stomping her feet and grinding her teeth.”

      “Her behavior is probably due to the fact she’s been separated from the herd and placed in a new environment. But I’d like to take a look at her tonight anyway. I’ll run by as soon as I finish up office hours here. Probably around seven or seven-thirty if that’s okay.”

      “That’d be great. Thank you, Tyler.”

      “No problem. And let me know if anything changes.”

      “I will.” Rebecca cut the connection on her cell phone and dialed again. She got the breeder, Helen McNamara, on the first try, and spoke with her, too. Helen suggested several ways to improve the situation, and offered her help. Forgetting her own timetable for getting her ranch up and running, Rebecca took Helen up on all of them this time.

      Their plans set, the two women said goodbye.

      Wishing she had listened to Helen’s advice sooner, Rebecca pocketed her cell phone. She turned when she heard the sounds of wheels on gravel.

      To her disappointment, it wasn’t the moving truck she was expecting. It was the two people she least wanted to see at that moment.

      She waited while her father’s Suburban made its way up the drive to the house. “Mom. Dad.” Rebecca nodded at Meg and Luke as they emerged from the vehicle.

      Her mom was dressed in a light cotton dress and sweater, perfect for the warm spring weather, her dad a knit shirt, and slacks. They looked fit and trim. Regular visits to the salon kept the gray out of Meg’s red hair, but Luke’s sandy-blond hair was threaded with silver these days.

      “We came by to see the ranch and see if you wanted to go to dinner with us,” Meg said.

      “Thanks for the invitation, but it’s not a good time. I’m pretty busy.”

      “So we see.” Luke looked past her disheveled appearance, toward the pasture. “That your first alpaca?” he asked, already heading toward the aging split rail fence.

      As they neared, Blue Mist backed up and hummed and stomped even louder.

      “Is something wrong with her?” Meg asked in concern.

      “We think it’s just homesickness, the fact she was separated from the herd. Tyler McCabe’s coming out to check her this evening. The rest of the herd is going to be delivered tomorrow afternoon. She’ll probably calm down when she sees the rest of her ‘family.’ In the meantime, it’s been suggested that I go ahead and get her settled in a stall with food and water, so…”

      “Is there anything we can do to help?” Meg asked.

      Rebecca snatched the leather lead from the hook next to the gate, where she’d left it, and shook her head.

      Talking softly, the way she’d been taught when she’d taken a seminar on the care and feeding of alpacas in Europe the previous year, Rebecca attached the lead to Blue Mist’s halter and led her toward the barn. The animal relaxed almost immediately when she entered the six-by-ten confine with the high wooden walls. She settled onto the recently scrubbed cement floor with a sigh and “kushed” or lay down on her side. Rebecca removed the lead, then talked to her a little more. When she was satisfied Blue Mist was settled, Rebecca backed out of the stall and closed the gate.

      Rebecca turned, to see her parents, watching. “Good job with that,” her dad said, looking impressed.

      Meg nodded in agreement. “I had no idea you were this good with farm animals.”

      “Even so, you think I’m crazy, undertaking this.” Rebecca knew from the look on her father’s face that his opinion hadn’t changed in the least. Meg’s probably hadn’t, either.

      Luke glanced at the interior of the barn. It hadn’t been used to house animals for thirty years.

      Meg walked out into the warm spring evening. The scent of flowers filled the air. Until now, she had kept silent on the subject, leaving the “heavy lifting” to Luke. Rebecca sensed that was about to change.

      “We’re so glad to have you back in Laramie again, Rebecca, and we applaud your desire to be independent and run your own business, but we’d be lying if we said we weren’t worried about what you’re trying to do here.”

      Luke nodded. “I’ve done some research on alpacas.”

      “Then you know that compared to most types of livestock, they are very gentle and easy to raise.”

      “I also know what they cost.