The Rancher. Diana Palmer

attack him.

      “Better wash those eggs and put them in the refrigerator,” Great-Aunt Sadie advised. “They’re the ones for the restaurant, aren’t they?”

      “Yes. Old Mr. Bailey said his customers have been raving about the taste of his egg omelets lately.” She laughed. “I’ll have to give my girls a treat for that.”

      Great-Aunt Sadie was frowning. “Maddie, did you ever look up the law about selling raw products?”

      Maddie shook her head. “I meant to. But I’m sure it’s not illegal to sell eggs. My mother did it for years before she died....”

      “That was a long time ago, honey. Don’t you remember that raid a few years ago on those poor farmers who were selling raw milk?” She made a face. “What sort of country do we live in? Sending an armed raid team after helpless farmers for selling milk!”

      Maddie felt uneasy. “I’d forgotten that.”

      “I hadn’t. In my day we had homemade butter and we could drink all the raw milk we wanted—didn’t have all this fancy stuff a hundred years ago and it seems to me people were a whole lot healthier.”

      “You weren’t here a hundred years ago,” Maddie pointed out with a grin. “Anyway, the government’s not going to come out here and attack me for selling a few eggs!”

      She did look on the internet for the law pertaining to egg production and found that she was in compliance. In fact, there were even places in the country licensed to sell raw milk. She’d have to tell Great-Aunt Sadie about that, she mused. Apparently armed teams weren’t raiding farms out west.

      * * *

      Meanwhile, a day later, she did call King Brannt. She was hesitant about it. Not only was he Cort’s father, he had a reputation in the county for being one tough customer, and difficult to get along with. He had a fiery temper that he wasn’t shy about using. But the developer’s determination to get the Lane ranch could have repercussions. A lot of them.

      She picked up the phone and dialed the ranch.

      The housekeeper answered.

      “Could I speak to King Brannt, please?” she asked. “It’s Maddie Lane.”

      There was a skirl of laughter. “Yes, you’ve got a rooster named Pumpkin.”

      Maddie laughed. “Is he famous?”

      “He is around here,” the woman said. “Cort isn’t laughing, but the rest of us are. Imagine having a personal devil in the form of a little red rooster! We’ve been teasing Cort that he must have done something terrible that we don’t know about.”

      Maddie sighed. “I’m afraid Pumpkin has it in for Cort. See, he picked him up by the feet and showed him to my girls, my hens, I mean, and hurt his pride. That was when he started looking for Cort.”

      “Oh, I see. It’s vengeance.” She laughed again. “Nice talking to you, I’ll go get Mr. Brannt. Take just a minute...”

      Maddie held on. Her gaze fell on one of her little fairy statues. It was delicate and beautiful; the tiny face perfect, lovely, with sculpted long blond hair, sitting on a stone with a butterfly in its hand. It was a new piece, one she’d just finished with the plastic sculpture mix that was the best on the market. Her egg money paid for the materials. She loved the little things and could never bear to sell one. But she did wonder if there was a market for such a specialized piece.

      “Brannt,” a deep voice said curtly.

      She almost jumped. “Mr. Brannt? It’s... I mean I’m Maddie Lane. I live on the little ranch next door to yours,” she faltered.

      “Hi, Maddie,” he said, and his voice lost its curt edge and was pleasant. “What can I do for you?”

      “I’ve got sort of a situation over here. I wanted to tell you about it.”

      “What’s wrong? Can we help?”

      “That’s so nice of you.” She didn’t add that she’d been told some very scary things about his temper. “It’s this developer. He’s from Las Vegas...”

      “Yes. Archie Lawson. I had him investigated.”

      “He’s trying to get me to sell my ranch to him. I don’t want to. This ranch has been in my family for generations. But he’s very pushy and he made some threats.”

      “He’s carried them out in the past,” King said, very curtly. “But you can be sure I’m not going to let him hurt you or your cattle herd. I’ll put on extra patrols on the land boundary we share, and station men at the cabin out there. We use it for roundup, but it’s been vacant for a week or so. I’ll make sure someone’s there at all times, and we’ll hook up cameras around your cattle herd and monitor them constantly.”

      “You’d do that for me?” she faltered. “Cameras. It’s so expensive.” She knew, because in desperation she’d looked at them and been shocked at the prices for even a cheap system.

      “I’d do that for you,” he replied. “You have one of the finest breeding herds I know of, which is why we buy so many of your young bulls.”

      “Why, thank you.”

      “You’re welcome. You see, it’s looking out for our interests as well as yours. I can’t have a complex so close to my barns, or my purebred herd. The noise of construction would be bad enough, but the constant traffic would injure production.”

      “Yes, I know what you mean.”

      “Besides that, Lawson is unscrupulous. He’s got his fingers in lots of dirty pies. He’s had several brushes with the law, too.”

      “I’m not surprised. He was a little scary.”

      “Don’t you worry. If he comes back and makes any threat at all, you call over here. If you can’t find me, talk to Cort. He’ll take care of it.”

      She hesitated. “Actually Cort isn’t speaking to me right now.”

      There was a pause. “Because of the rooster?” His voice was almost smiling.

      “Actually because I made a nasty crack about Odalie Everett,” she confessed heavily. “I didn’t mean to. He made me mad. I guess he was justified to complain. Pumpkin is really mean to him.”

      “So I heard. That rooster has had brushes with several of our cowboys.” She could tell that he was trying not to laugh.

      “The man who sold him to me said he was real gentle and wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s sort of true. I’ve never seen Pumpkin hurt a fly.” She laughed. “Just people.”

      “You need a gentle rooster, especially if you’re going to be selling eggs and baby chicks.”

      “The baby chick operation is down the road, but I’m doing well with my egg business.”

      “Glad to hear it. Our housekeeper wants to get on your customer list, by the way.”

      “I’ll talk to her, and thanks!”

      He chuckled. “My pleasure.”

      “If Mr. Lawson comes back, I’ll let you know.”

      “Please do. The man is trouble.”

      “I know. Thanks again, Mr. Brannt. I feel better now.”

      “Your dad was a friend of mine,” he said quietly. “I miss him. I know you do, too.”

      “I miss him a lot,” she said. “But Great-Aunt Sadie and I are coping. It’s just this ranching thing,” she added miserably. “Dad was good at it, he had charts in the barn, he knew which traits to breed for, all that technical stuff. He taught me well, but I’m not as good as he was at it. Not at all. I like to paint and sculpt.” She hesitated. “Creative people shouldn’t have to breed cattle!” she