Page 4 of Steers and Stowaways
“I wish I could.” Mallory tasted the tang of despair in her mouth. “If we keep losing cattle at this rate, especially bulls, it’ll put us out of business.”
Though Martina had surely already connected the dots on her own, her face paled. “Oh, Mallory!” She understood what Mallory had left unsaid. If Evans Ranch went belly up, Martina and her husband would lose their jobs and have to move out of the charming little cottage on site where they lived rent-free. So would their son, Daniel, who went by the nickname Chip—short for Chip Off the Old Block. He helped out with enough chores that Mallory paid him the wages of an entry-level ranch hand. Part-time only. She’d never officially hired him. He’d more or less come as a package deal with his parents.
Since Chip didn’t talk much, Mallory didn’t know himvery well. Every chance she got, she chiseled away a little more of his wall of reserve. She looked forward to the day when he would finally look her in the eye and give her a real smile.
Just thinking about the tall, weedy teenager made Mallory come to a decision. She had no interest in tossing three such kindhearted, hardworking, vulnerable people back into the uncertainty of seasonal work. She just couldn’t. Evans Ranch was their home now. The longer they worked for her, the more they felt like family.And like family, they would muddle through their current troubles together.
She lifted her chin defiantly. “But I’m not going to let that happen,” she declared so fiercely that Tucker narrowed his gaze at her. “I just need to come up with a plan to weather the next few months.” Preferably today. There was no time to waste.
Martina hugged her arms around her middle. “I have an idea, though I’m not sure it’s my place to butt in.”
There was a tremor in her voice that made Mallory’s heart ache. It troubled her deeply that the rough patch her ranch was going through was affecting other people. People who didn’t deserve to ride down the rocky path toward bankruptcy with the last standing member of the Evans family.
“I would love to hear your idea,” she urged gently.
Tucker’s scowl grew darker.
Martina flicked a nervous glance his way before continuing. “I, um…it’s only because I do the bookkeeping that I see all the numbers.” She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then her words tumbled out in a convoluted rush. “Have you ever thought of subdividing?” She shifted from one foot to the other. “Maybe just a few acres here and there that you wouldn’t miss too much.”
Mallory’s mouth fell open. “You mean sell off some of my family’s land?” Of all the options that had been tumbling through her mind, selling off acreage hadn’t even occurred to her. It was a terrible idea, one that would make her parents and grandparents roll over in their graves.
But it might actually work. She bit her lower lip, wishing she could think of a better way to keep Evans Ranch limping along. “I’ll think about it.”
Martina looked relieved. “You mean you’re not going to fire me on the spot for suggesting something so crazy?”
Mallory started laughing, not because anything was funny, but because she was dangerously close to tears. “That’s never going to happen.” Not on her watch. “Y’all are too important to me.” She was weary of shouldering the weight of running a ranch alone. They’d given her a much-needed break.
Tucker’s dark eyes felt like they were drilling twin holes through her, but she didn’t care.Watch and learn, cowboy! It’s called human kindness. You could use more of it.
“Guess I better call a realtor,” she trilled in a more cheerful voice than what she was feeling. On the inside, she was choking at the thought of letting go of a single acre of land that had been in her family for so many generations.
Tucker opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he spun away from them and stalked back to his truck.
She stared after him, wondering how much longer she could justify paying a private investigator from her dwindling ranch accounts. Though her head told her it was time to let him go, her stubborn heart balked at the thought. She didn’t know what it was about the man that kept herfeelings twisted in knots. However, she knew with sudden certainty that she was going to miss that feeling when he was gone.
Yeah, she was totally losing it.
One month later
“What doyou mean the funds are tied up with too much red tape?” Tucker couldn’t believe his higher-ups weren’t jumping at the chance to purchase the hundred acres of prime real estate Mallory had put up for sale a few hours ago. No fewer than five of her herd had been taken from the same plot of land in recent months in what appeared to be an escalation of rustling activity. He had a theory about that, too. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any proof yet. What he did know was that Evans Ranch had been targeted by the rustlers more than any other ranch, and he intended to figure out why.
The shadowy figure seated behind the desk on Tucker’s computer screen made a snorting sound. “These things take time. You, of all people, should know that.”
Baloney!What Tucker knew was that exceptions were made all the time. “We can’t afford to sit on this one,” he protested. “Mallory Evans already has two bids on the table.”
When the FBI had first recruited Tucker, he’d been blown away by the honor. It had felt like a chance to make a real difference, helping put some of the toughest criminals in the country behind bars. At the time, he’d been grappling with the sting of betrayal from his former partner—a police detective who’d gone rogue and started accepting bribesfrom drug cartels. An ex-cop who’d subsequently disappeared without a trace before the ink on his arrest warrant had dried.
His district manager shrugged like he didn’t care, probably because he didn’t. “What can I say? There’s a special election coming up.” His words were a reminder of the disgusting amount of bureaucracy that controlled budget priorities at the federal level. “I’m under orders right now to funnel money toward cases most likely to be closed by Christmas.”
Tucker could work with that. “Then tell ‘em I’ll close the case before Christmas.” Though he couldn’t offer any guarantees, he would do everything in his power to meet the deadline. He would leave no stone unturned. He would go without sleep if he had to.
Pete Flournoy burst out laughing. “Leadership material you are not. That’s what everybody likes about you.”
Tucker was pretty sure that meant nobody saw him as a threat, since nothing would tempt him to become a desk jockey. No raises. No promotions. Nothing. “Exactly how long of a wait are we talking about to get the funds approved?” It was the first week of December, so Christmas was right around the corner.
Pete’s laughter died. “I’m telling younoin the nicest way I can, Agent Pratt. I wish I could give you a different answer, but I can’t. All I can do is recommend you for an incentive, while you find another way to bring these bozos to justice.”
For once in his life, Tucker had no words. Unless he was mistaken, he was being paid to keep his head down and his mouth shut. At least, that’s what it felt like.
