Heart of a Rancher. Renee Andrews

      “Fishing cabin,” Landon corrected. “And you’d better get used to calling them cabins, or Georgiana is liable to have your hide.”

      “Right, my fishing cabin.” John didn’t know if he’d ever get used to the term. Landon’s wife, Georgiana, had the idea to turn the old fishing shacks on their property into something more habitable that would appeal to those interested in an outdoor getaway to fish and relax. Cutter’s Fish Camp had only been open a couple of weeks but was doing great, with regular weekend reservations for five out of six cabins. John was thrilled with the early success, but he still wanted to succeed with his own business plan, the one the bank had so quickly turned down. However, business magnate Dana Brooks had faith in his dude ranch idea...and in John.

      He saddled his horse, Red, and started across the fields toward the stocked pond and the fishing shacks—correction—cabins. When Landon married Georgiana, John insisted that the two of them, along with Georgiana’s seven-year-old daughter, Abi, live in the Cutter family home, a two-story log cabin at the center of the property. He, on the other hand, would live in one of the fishing shacks and therefore be nearby whenever a fishing camp guest needed anything. He liked the rustic, compact cabin and the seclusion the place provided from the outside world. True, guests surrounded him when the cabins were rented, but the majority of the time they kept to themselves and he had the perfect place to meditate on God and study for his business degree.

      The cabins were multicolored, Georgiana’s idea to paint them similar to Charleston’s Rainbow Row. Being blind, Georgiana often discussed the appeal of color and how she remembered hues from before she lost her sight. Consequently, the cabins were painted with the favorite colors from her memories. John hoped the look would appeal to the city girl, Dana Brooks. His cabin was sage-green and the smallest of the lot. He’d stuck a couple of rockers in the front, and Abi had helped him put blooming plants in big pots on each cabin’s porch, including his own. Riding closer, he took in the colorful cabins, the sky turning turquoise in the early afternoon, the green mountains, the brown water from the pond. The place looked like a postcard or an ad for the newest dude ranch, the only dude ranch, in Alabama.

      Maybe the scene would impress Dana Brooks.

      He dismounted, and Red moved to graze near the cabin, then John glanced toward the edge of the property, toward the dirt road entrance, and noticed a gaping hole in the fencing. Undoubtedly his oldest and most ornery cow, Gypsy, had once again decided to play nomad. She’d been escaping since she was a calf, hence her name; now at nearly sixteen, Gypsy was already a year past the age Charolais cattle typically lived, and she still managed to escape. But nowadays she often got confused, wandering out, then wandering right back in. John scanned the field, but didn’t spot Gypsy. He had no idea whether she was out or in, but either way, he had to fix that fence before he lost more livestock. You couldn’t very well have a dude ranch without horses and cattle.

      John withdrew his cell and noted the time on the display. 4:00 p.m. Ms. Brooks would be getting a rental car in Stockville. Maybe that’d take enough time for him to repair the fence and clean up before she arrived.

      God, help her like this place, and help me make a good first impression.

      * * *

      Dana stepped onto the tarmac while her copilot, Ned, unloaded her bags. She’d only needed Mark, her pilot, and Ned for the trip, so Ned had assumed the duty of assisting her while Mark got everything in order for their flight back to Chicago.

      She’d requested a vehicle that would blend with farm country, some type of SUV, and the sole Stockville car rental agency had delivered nicely. A tall, thin man in a black T-shirt and blue jeans stood beside a white Cadillac Escalade parked nearby. Definitely not standard car-rental-agent attire, but he did have a name tag stating that he was Jesse Burger with Stockville Car Rental.

      “Ms. Brooks.” He moved quickly toward her with a way-too-broad smile in place. She wished people wouldn’t get so nervous around her, but that was part of being the late Lawrence Brooks’s daughter that she couldn’t change.

      The late Lawrence Brooks. Dana frowned, still having a difficult time getting used to the fact that her father was gone.

      “I’m Jesse Burger.” The friendly man grabbed her outstretched hand and pumped it vigorously.

      “Nice to meet you, Jesse.” She pushed her sadness aside and managed a smile for the friendly man.

      “Welcome to Alabama. I hope you like your vehicle. We don’t typically keep this type of SUV at the agency in Stockville, but we brought this one in from Birmingham just for you. I reckon you’ll enjoy the ride. It’s really sweet.”

      Reckon? Sweet? She was charmed by the accent and by the local flavor in his speech. It reminded her of the thick drawl she’d heard on the other end of the line the few times she’d spoken to John Cutter. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

      “I’ll admit I kind of volunteered to go pick it up so I could drive it. I’ve never been in a Cadillac. Talk about a smooth ride. And it sits high on the road, almost as high as my dually.” He motioned toward an oversize red pickup truck with two full doors and humongous tires, similar to those she’d seen in advertisements when the monster trucks were at the Sears Centre Arena in Chicago. Naturally, she’d never seen one of the big trucks up close. She was more of an opera and ballet kind of girl, but she couldn’t deny that she found the oversize truck interesting. However, anxious to get to the Cutter ranch, she wouldn’t take time for a perusal now.

      “I went ahead and programmed that address where you said you were headed into the GPS. It’s got all the roads already highlighted for you and ready to go. But really, you just take the main road from Stockville to Claremont. It’s called Old Claremont Road if you’re headed from here to there. If you’re coming the other direction, it’s Old Stockville Road.”

      “Seriously?” She’d never heard of anything so bizarre.

      “Sure. Wouldn’t make sense to give credit to only one of the towns.” He grinned big.

      “No, I guess it wouldn’t.” This trip was definitely going to be interesting. A road with two names, depending on which way you were driving. Her brother would never believe it.

      “And that farm you’re looking for is about dead center halfway. Shouldn’t take you more than twenty minutes from here, I’d guess. Maybe fifteen, even.”

      “Thank you.” She eyed the SUV. “I’ve never been in anything like this, but I’m looking forward to it.” She had a Prius and a BMW in the garage, but hardly ever went anywhere on her own. She’d wanted the environmentally friendly Prius but also hadn’t been able to resist the cute little red Z4. But even though she had the two vehicles, a driver typically took her wherever she wanted to go in Chicago. Driving amid paparazzi had never been appealing, and they crowded her car so terribly when she went to town that she’d practically forgone the fun of driving. She was rather excited about the Escalade, and about the fact that the paparazzi hadn’t followed her on this venture. No sign of a camera anywhere.

      Ned put the last of her bags in the back of the SUV. “Ms. Brooks, will you need anything else before we return home?”

      “No, Ned. And I’ll keep you posted on when I plan to return. Should be four weeks or so.” She was determined to show her brother, Ryan, that she could help “young dreamers,” as he called them, to make it in business. Their father had once been a young dreamer, and he’d regretted not helping others do the same before he died. Dana was doing this for him...and for herself. She wanted to do the right thing, wanted to help others, even if she had virtually no experience yet.

      Her father’s repeated words over the last few weeks of his life echoed through her thoughts.

      “I was selfish. I forgot God, forgot myself. Only cared about the money. More money. More power.” Tears had slid down his weathered cheeks and pierced Dana’s heart. It’d been the first time she’d ever seen him cry. “Don’t end up like me, Dana.”

      She’d vowed to him that she would follow his