Page 11 of Some Cowgirls are Worth Protecting

Actually, she toyed with the idea of telling him who exactly had purchased the land, just to see if she could get another reaction out of him. There was something so satisfying about getting under Hudson’s skin. He’d never liked her anyway. Now he could have a reason for his disdain.

“Fine. I don’t want you here. I was enjoying my pie before you showed up. Now I have to argue with someone who doesn’t respect my time.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you are lying to me.”

Rachel threw up her hands and groaned. “For heaven’s sake, Hudson. I don’t make a habit of lying to people and I’m not going to start now—even if it would get you out of my hair.”

Hudson opened his mouth, probably to say something condescending, but then her phone vibrated on the table. It drew his gaze and hers. She lifted a finger and picked up her device, not caring if he got frustrated over the interruption.

“This is Miss Walton.”

“I have bad news.” Brent was a wonderful project manager when it came to all the nitty gritty of turning her property into a wild horse sanctuary, but he had a tendency of ripping off the Band-Aid, and that was more tiresome than she preferred.

A sigh burst from her lips. “What’s wrong now?” Her eyes darted to Hudson, who was watching her intently. She frowned and turned to the side so her phone was farther from him. “You said it was in the bag. The land has everything needed. We went over the requirements in extensive detail.”

“An inspector was sent already.”

“You said that wouldn’t happen for several weeks, if not more.”

Brent was quiet for a moment, the sound of clicks on a keyboard the only thing she could hear. Then he spoke again. “I was able to call in a favor, seeing as this is a big project and one the state values.”

Rachel dug her hand into her hair and sighed again. “What is it then? Did we leave something out of the paperwork? Did someone forget to dot all the I’s?” She glanced once more at Hudson. “Do you mind?” she muttered.

One side of Hudson’s mouth twitched upward, and he shook his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Not at all.”

“Who are you talking to?” Brent asked.

“Doesn’t matter. Tell me what the bad news is so we can fix it. I’d like to get this project up and running quickly to prevent any vandals from doing anything to the property.”

“That’s just it.”

Her stomach dropped. “Vandals?” Rachel sat up a little straighter. “What do you mean? Brent, you better start talking and talking fast. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Well, as you know, there is no real requirement when it comes to the enclosed space. As long as there is a secure fence around the perimeter, it’s fine.”

“Yeah…” she drawled. “Did someone sabotage my fence?”

“In a few places.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Please tell me that’s the only thing. I can get a few guys out there to check the fence lines and fix them. That should be easy enough.”

“Unfortunately, there’s evidence that someone has gone in and cut several of your trees down.”

Rachel couldn’t breathe. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. According to the rules for adopting or taking on the wild horses, not only do you need to have adequate acreage, but you need adequate shelter.”

“What do you suggest we do? It’s not like I can just grow trees overnight.” Rachel had forgotten about Hudson until he cleared his throat. She glanced up at him, startled. “What?”

“Something wrong with the property?”

She scowled and ignored him, turning back to Brent. “I’ll have someone out to fix the fences. Do you have any suggestions for the shelter issue?”

“You could build some lean-tos. Shelter can be anything from the trees to actual buildings. It’s mostly so the horses have a place to go during inclement weather.”

Rachel shook her head. “I—” She eyed Hudson again. “They wanted this to be as natural as possible. I can’t just put a bunch of buildings on the premises.”

Hudson cleared his throat again, and she squinted at him. “Maybe you could build shelters that look like caves or something. There are plenty of ways to fix that problem.”

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