Fire Brand. Diana Palmer

door to us,” he suggested.

      “What combine?”

      “Some agricultural outfit called Biological Agri-market—Bio-Ag, for short. They’re trying to buy up land in the valley to support a superfarm—the farm of the future, they call it. But I’m afraid that what they’re actually after is a quick profit and some devastating ecological impact.”

      “They can’t damage the environment,” she assured him. “First, they have to file an environmental impact statement; then, they have to go through the planning and development commission...”

      “Hold it a minute,” he said. “Lassiter doesn’t have a planning commission, and our particular valley isn’t zoned.”

      She searched his eyes. “Still, won’t the development have to go through regular channels?”

      “If they can get the land,” he agreed. He smiled coolly. “Hell will freeze over before they get any of mine.”

      “Then you don’t have a problem.”

      “That’s debatable.” He lit a cigarette, cracking a window to let out the smoke. “Some of the town fathers in Lassiter are being courted by the developers. They’re promising jobs and a lavish local economy, and they’re greasing palms right and left.” He smiled at her. “I had a threatening phone call yesterday. The word is that I’m holding up progress single-handedly by refusing to sell land to the development. It seems that Casa Río has the best soil for their purposes.”

      “Lassiter could use more jobs, Bowie,” she began slowly. “I know how you feel about the land...”

      “Do you?” His voice was like cold steel. “Apaches used to hunt on our range. My great-great-grandfather made one of the first treaties with the Chiricahua Apaches, and there’s a petroglyph that marks the spot where they agreed on it. Cochise camped at one of the river crossings with his people. There was a small fort, and part of the adobe is still standing, where McCaydes helped the Apaches fight off Mexican raiders. There are Hohokam ruins a thousand years old on that land. The Hohokam had a superior civilization that ultimately spawned the Pima and the Tohono O’odham. And the Earps and Doc Holliday rode through on their way to Tombstone. How do you compare that history with a few jobs—jobs that may not even last, for God’s sake, if the developers go bust. And what about the ecology, Gaby?” he persisted, eyes blazing with bad temper. “Imagine all that damned silt pouring into the San Pedro and its tributary near us, when we’re already facing a devastating future. We’ve got the Central Arizona Project and the Salt River Project, and cities are buying ranches all over Arizona for the water rights, but we’ve got to be careful about our water resources, or they may dry up. It’s too risky a venture, despite the potential economic value. What’s worse, I think those Bio-Ag people really have their eyes on our water rights. First in time, first in right, remember? You need easy access to water to farm.”

      Gaby studied him quietly. She knew he was a tireless worker for historic preservation. “You’re very knowledgeable,” she remarked.

      “It’s an interest of mine. I’m a builder,” he reminded her. “I have to know a lot about the environment and the ecology to be responsible. I don’t want to leave behind a legacy of ruined land for quick gain. There are too many people doing that already—throwing up buildings for a profit without considering how much damage they’re doing to the local ecology.”

      “I had to learn about some of that for stories I’ve done,” she replied.

      “Silt from irresponsible building practices fills up rivers and streams. That has impact not only on our water resources, but on wildlife, and even the quality of life along those rivers and streams,” he replied. “It’s a subject worth talking about. We’ve been lucky here in Arizona. We have legislators who were looking out for our water rights years before it was a popular subject. We’ve done things to ensure a future water supply. Other states haven’t been quite as responsible, and they may suffer for it someday.”

      “But you don’t want developers on Casa Río land,” she said.

      “That’s it in a nutshell. Threats notwithstanding, I won’t let Casa Río be used to make money for greedy outsiders.”

      “How do you know they’re greedy?” she asked.

      “How do you know they’re not?” he shot back.

      She gave up. It was impossible to hope for more than a draw when she fought verbally with Bowie. “Stalemate,” she murmured humorously. “I won’t fight with you. I’m too tired.”

      “You’re still coming home to watch Aggie for me?” he persisted.

      “Yes. If you think it’s necessary.” She paused with her hand on the door handle, oddly reluctant to go inside. “Bowie, you don’t really think her friend is a gold digger, do you?”

      “I don’t know, Gaby. Until I do, I have to assume that he is. I don’t want Aggie hurt.”

      She smiled at him gently. “Why do you call her Aggie, instead of mother?” she asked.

      “She’s never been quite motherly to me,” he replied with a narrow smile. “Even if she has to you.”

      There was a faint bitterness in his deep voice.

      Time to go, quick, she thought. She clutched her purse. “I had a good time. Thanks for taking me to Mary and Ted’s party.”

      “My pleasure.” He was still staring at her, much too closely. “What day are you going down to Casa Río?”

      “Probably Tuesday,” she said. “I’ve got a big political interview Monday afternoon. When does Aggie get there?”

      “Tuesday night.”

      “See?” She smiled. “Perfect timing.”

      “For God’s sake, don’t leave them alone for a second.” Instead of frightening her, his irritated expression delighted her. It was nice to know that Bowie was human, after all. At times, he seemed rather impervious to emotion. He was very much a cool, intimidating stranger to Gaby—or he had been, until tonight. She’d learned a lot about him, and she liked what she’d found out.

      “Which one of them do you propose that I sleep with?” she asked.

      He was still deep in thought. He glanced at her. “Hmmmmm?” he asked absently.

      She leaned closer. “Do you want me to bunk down with Aggie, or her new beau?”

      “Oh, for God’s sake, don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “Just don’t leave them alone together for long.”

      “I’ll do my best. But they’re both adults.

      “I realize that. But he could take over Casa Río. It’s happened before in second marriages. He could wind up with everything Aggie owns, and throw her to the dogs to boot! And if he did it in the right way,” he added with an intent stare, “we wouldn’t have a legal leg to stand on.”

      “I see what you mean,” she murmured. “Well, I’ll do what I can. But he may turn out to be a nice man, you know.”

      His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “How is it that you don’t trust people, but you never seem to expect the worst until you’re confronted with it?”

      She shrugged. “It’s a knack. Like your uncanny ability to read people’s minds. Thank God I’m not on your wavelength.” She grinned. “I don’t want you wandering around in my brain.”

      “Don’t you?” He reached out and touched her high coiffure, very gently. “I don’t like your hair up like that. I like it long and loose. You’re too young to walk around like a matron, Gaby—and much too pretty.”

      She flushed. The touch of his hand on her hair was electric. “I’m...not pretty,” she stammered, and tried to laugh.

      “Beauty