Page 75 of Trickster King

Randy snickered. “You have an hour to talk to her about her financials, and there’s no reason you can’t hire her to run her ranch and pick up operational expenses. You can do that without buying the land. It just takes a contract to do.”

Hm. I hadn’t tried that stunt before. “My wife probably wouldn’t catch me doing that for at least a year. Until my share of the year’s profits came in. Then she would have questions.”

“And you could route the earnings to the cattle fund.”

“I’ll need the DNA report from her ranch.”

“I’ll see about acquiring it,” the RPS agent replied.

With that settled, I focused on driving, pleased Geoff handled the truck and trailer with care. “I feel like I have made a mistake. I left Geoff with Eddie. Eddie could be taking over Texas by now for all we know. Or planning our defeat.”

“Or trying to talk Geoff into going to another steakhouse for dinner,” Randy muttered. In the rearview mirror, I observed him lift his phone and give it a wave. “Geoff is recording parts of the conversation and routing it through the RPS line, and the monitoring agents are texting me with the subject matter.”

Right. The truck had a button programmed where the driver could record all sounds in the cabin and send it to the RPS for evaluation. I laughed at the thought of Geoff abusing the button to notify us that our boy wanted steak for dinner. “Relay to Geoff with an inquiry if Eddie is set on a restaurant or if he just wants the group dining experience. If he just wants everyone eating together, I can run the grills—and abuse Senator Padrino to bring the wife and kids over for the meal. She’ll probably want to meet the rescues.”

“I will make the arrangements for a group meal. Jerrod, does the center have a dining room?”

“We have one, yes. It has a hundred person capacity.”

“I’ll redirect some agents to get the center set up, and we’ll make it as fancy as we can. I take it you wish to cook, Your Majesty?”

“Yep.” Grilling over the campfire had sparked its usual flame, and I had a great deal of anxiety to cook away. “Invite the vets, and we’ll rotate through whomever isn’t on vigil over the horses in the barn. That just leaves the meat.”

“The cow from yesterday was suitable for butchering. What they mistook to be a cow was a young bull. He suffered from a recent fall and was otherwise healthy,” Randy reported. “If you want aged steaks, there are a few ranches that we can hit up. As we have the trailer, we can hit up the locals for a good supply. Jerrod, where’s a good spot to get chickens?”

“There’s a ranch that does poultry not far from my center. I can put in a call. I’m sure they’d be happy to open up shop for you. I will make certain Eddie understands he’s not being punished by not going to a restaurant.”

That would work. “And the odds of my wife coming?”

“Higher than any of us appreciate, as the senator is sticking around in case he’s needed for additional rescues. The RPS is going to do another sweep of the property tomorrow.”

As that was the best I could ask and hope for, I nodded and returned my focus to the road, hoping my act of kindness would end with the rancher suffering from a stung pride.

EIGHTEEN

In her shoes, I would have done the same.

One of the RPS agents had brought a reporter, dressed her up as an agent, and kept her among their number. I waited for Jerrod and Randy to get out of the SUV before shooting a glare at my RPS agent. “Before I become upset, please explain what is going on and why.”

“You’re about to receive a gift of excellent publicity. That reporter likes you, adores horses more, and is getting her dream assignment. She gets to help save horses, and she gets to sing your praises once she spreads word you are waiving the mare’s fee to return her to her owner, who is operating a failing ranch. And should you cut a deal to save the ranch? You will be the apple of every rancher’s eye. In one fell swoop, you will leave a truly Texan legacy. Not in reform, but in actionable deeds.”

When phrased that way, I couldn’t argue with him. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“You’ll be fine.”

A dark-haired woman came down the porch of her farmhouse, small compared to most ranches. There was either a second ranch house or the ranchers working the place lived somewhere else. I assumed somewhere else.

That was what usually happened with the failing operations. The ranchers who lost confidence in the owner moved on, the owner became one of the few left, and things got out of hand in a hurry.

If the mare had been her primary work horse, I could understand how the woman would have fallen on harder times.

Good horses made a ranch work.

I considered going to introduce myself, decided against it, and went to the trailer, undoing the side door while Jerrod fetched the ramp. I climbed inside the trailer, greeted the mare, and went to work releasing her from the sling. The bow on her halter had survived the journey, and I went under the padded rail to retrieve the larger bow, which I secured around her neck.

Thanks to the configuration of Jerrod’s trailer, he was able to swing out the partition dividing the stalls, allowing us to ease the mare back so she could leave the trailer down the ramp facing forward. I took my time leading her out, murmuring encouragements and keeping an eye on her lamed leg.

Sunshine made the journey without incident.

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