Winterkill. P.H. Turner

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СКАЧАТЬ this bar to share a drink with an interesting woman. Let’s talk about something else.”

      “Okay. Tell me about your ranch.”

      “The Bar-A is my favorite subject. I have four sections of the most beautiful grazing land you ever saw. Up on the north end is a ridgeline with a good view of the high country. We ought to ride up there sometime. You can see all the way out east onto the plains.” He gave my hand a quick squeeze. “You know why it’s called the Bar-A?”

      “No...” His hand felt warm and solid. He twined his fingers with mine.

      “After my wife, Emily. Her maiden name was Alston. She would’ve been so happy there on the ranch. Emily died before I bought the place, but she would have loved this land.”

      “I’m sorry for your pain.”

      He gently ran his fingertips down my jaw. “Hope you never have to feel it. You bring out a man’s thoughts. Not many women make a warm place where a man can bare his soul.” He leaned back into the leather bench. “I’ve got a thousand head of Angus on the ranch. That’s my main business. But, I’m trying my hand with producing cashmere.”

      Wow, the guy put the e in ego. “I didn’t think cattle ranchers did much sheep ranching.”

      “That’s goats, city slicker, not sheep.” He laughed. He had a great smile that lit up his face. “Cashmere goats produce your cashmere sweaters. He’s a hardy little animal from the steppes of Mongolia, so our winters are no problem for them. They do real well on the tufts of dry grass in the winter until spring rains come.”

      “Have you sheared them yet?”

      “Yeah, my shearers come up from Mexico every spring. They’re a family business, traveling around the west shearing. I made a nice little bundle off the fiber.”

      “I’ve never seen a cashmere goat.”

      “I can fix that.” He smiled again showing those attractive crinkles around his mouth. “You grow up on a ranch?”

      “No, I’m a city girl. But my Dad taught me to ride and how to shoot a .22 rifle by pinging cans in a pasture. When I got good enough, he bought me a .410 shotgun and took me dove hunting.”

      “I got a windmill tank that draws the dove on fall evenings. We could hunt out there. I marinate the breasts, then grill them. Does your whole family hunt?”

      “I’m an only child. My parents lost two sons, each when they were a few days old. Both were named after my dad. By the time they got pregnant with me, they were both knocking on the door of forty. Growing up, I believed that Dad had hoped I’d be a boy. He took me deer and dove hunting and bought me a mare. I loved the time I spent with him and I’m grateful to him for teaching me to love the outdoors.”

      “You still ride?”

      “Not lately. Dad gave me a mare when I was eight. Piggles was a beautiful paint. My heart broke when I found out we were moving to Denver and I couldn’t take her.”

      “I’ll take you riding. Get you back in shape.” He smiled.

      The restaurant was filling with diners and customers. I could tell the bartender was itching to turn the table. I finished my martini. “I’d like that.” I gestured to the waiting group. “We need to give some of these people an opportunity to enjoy the bar.”

      Hunter slid a few bills on the table. He slipped his arm under my elbow. We ambled across the square full of dog walkers and kids on bikes to my car in the station lot.

      “Thank you for interesting evening, Sawyer.”

      “The pleasure was mine, Hunter. I look forward to sitting a horse again.”

      He took my key and popped the lock on the Jeep. He put both hands on my shoulders and gave me soft kiss. I lightly touched the back of his neck. “Good night, Hunter.” I loved that he was tall. My head was only inches shorter than his. God, at nearly five-foot-eight, by the time I was thirteen, I was the tallest girl in middle school, making dance lessons a nightmare of stooping to hold little guys. Driving home, I relived his soft kiss lingering on my mouth. A tingle of anticipation kept me company.

      When I turned into my drive, I was happy to see Julia parked in the drive. “Surprise,” Julia called, getting out of her car. “I brought my favorite takeout lasagna from the best pizza place in town.”

      “Have you been here long?”

      ‘Nope, just got here.” She held out a white bag. “And in here—” She paused dramatically. “—are two perfect chocolate éclairs. I tried to call, but got your voice mail.” She cocked her head. “I hope this is all right. I can take my éclairs and go home.” She tantalized me by shaking the white bakery bag.

      “Absolutely not!”

      We plated up the lasagna. Julia snagged a bottle of wine off the counter and followed me out to two comfortable chairs on the back porch.

      “You happy at the station?”

      “Definitely. It was good move for me to come home. Look at that sky full of stars and a crescent moon.”

      “Yeah, hard to get that view in the city.” Julia handed me an éclair.

      “What do you know about Hunter Kane?” I hoped I sounded casual.

      She cocked her head with an amused smile. “Is he the reason your lip gloss is smeared?”

      “You never did miss much.”

      “So, give. Obviously you met him?”

      “Yeah, I had a drink with him this evening.”

      “Wow! You’re moving fast.”

      “I wouldn’t call a drink at the Plains moving fast.”

      “I don’t know much but the gossip around town. He’s got a nice size ranch, not far from you. Moved here from Montana I think,” Julia offered.

      “He told me his wife died. Do you know anything about her?”

      “All I know is he moved here after she died. Sorry I don’t know more. I don’t get out of the second grade much. Tell me about having a drink with him.”

      “He talked about raising cattle … Oh god, I started talking about Piggles. You remember her, don’t you?”

      “Of course, I remember Piggles. We spent a lot time on that mare. Remember how your mom wanted you in dressage?” She laughed. “All you wanted to do was gallop like a wild child. I hadn’t thought about Piggles in years.”

      “He got angry talking about Sam’s herd. He blames buffalo ranchers for spreading brucellosis to cattle. You know anything about hard feelings between cattle and buffalo ranchers?”

      “I know when brucellosis breaks out, people lose a lot of money. I bet everyone who is involved in the cattle business is talking about Sam’s herd. I can’t help you much. Really, if it’s not about addition and crayons, I’m out of the loop. You’re the journalist. СКАЧАТЬ