Chapter Four

 

Oh, ye saints and angels.

Claudia tasted of maple syrup and determination. Also desire. Declan hadn't had time to deal with the wayward urges that had plagued him upon waking, and they came roaring back, ready to destroy common sense, decency, and scruples in ten seconds flat.

"Claudia…"

She felt perfect in his arms. Lithe, feminine, not too diminutive and not too tall. The fit was sublime, and the lady was not shy. For the space of a half-dozen heartbeats, Declan wasn't shy either. He was aroused, interested, eager, and all hers. Claudia's passion was like lightning hitting a parched landscape, and between I'll let her down easily and Somebody had better stop this, the wildfire nearly engulfed Declan's self-restraint.

"You want me." Claudia rested her forehead on his chest. "Or you want sex. I'm an adult, Declan. I'm not looking for fairy tales, so don't give me the speech, okay?"

Declan longed to share a fairy tale with her. "What speech?"

"About leaving your options open, and not making plans, and whatever other euphemism you use to keep it light. You will get in your little red car and tool down my drive come Saturday morning, I know that."

She did not know he intended to leave with the figurative deed to her ranch in his back pocket.

Declan shifted, bracing his butt against the table and spreading his legs so he could bundle Claudia in close. The feel of her against him was bliss, and for an instant, he considered lifting her onto the table and obliging their mutual lust.

A soft scratching sound interrupted that fantasy—the cat, who was apparently on the back terrace.

"Mralph." A polite, pathetic call to sanity.

"I'm serving cat burgers for dinner," Claudia said, dropping her arms from Declan's waist and going to the back door.

She'd be serving MacLeod burgers if Declan let this attraction go anywhere.

Hotay strutted into the kitchen, tail held high, and stropped himself against Declan's boots. "Mraaaalph."

"Claudia, you deserve more than what you Americans call a roll in the hay," Declan said.

She shut the door firmly. "What I deserve and what I want are for me to say, Declan. You're interested, and unless you're committed elsewhere, I'm interested too."

Damn, damn, and double damn.

Hotay stood up on his back legs and sank his front claws into Declan's thigh. Declan lifted the cat against his chest. The damn beast was heavy and purring like a touring bike.

Shortly after taking the job with Brewster, Declan had seen one of Brewster's business associates kick a cat for rubbing against his boots. The animal had scampered off, hissing with indignation, but the image had stuck with Declan.

If Declan took advantage of Claudia's trust, he'd be worse than Brewster, and that was a serious criticism. If Declan were honest with Claudia now…

He had to be honest with her now.

"The commitment that keeps me from obliging my desire for you is to my job, Claudia. I'm not what I appear to be, and if you tell me to get in my little red car and leave the property within the hour, I'll go."

She peeled Hotay from his grasp, and Declan let the cat go. "Tell me the rest of it, and be ready to run like hell, Declan MacLeod. All the way back to your fancy-ass company in Houston. I cannot abide a liar or a thief."

More than either of those, Claudia Jensen would disrespect a coward. "Brewster Energy more or less owns the mortgage on this ranch, and they'll find an excuse to foreclose if you don't accept their offer on the property. I'm here to make that deal happen so Thad Brewster can turn this place into a corporate training center and canyon retreat."

He expected her to order him off the ranch, to explode into the sort of invective that Longhorn bulls knew to run from.

She cuddled the cat and slid into a chair at the table where they'd just shared a meal. "You've come to steal the Bar J?"

"Aye."

"That is lower than a snake's belly in a Death Valley wagon rut, Declan."

"No argument there."

"If my mortgage is paid up, can this Brewster guy still take the ranch?"

She ought not to trust another word out of Declan's mouth. He turned around the chair to her right and straddled it.

"They'll find something, Claudia. Some piece of fine print, some failure to maintain the property according to the terms of the loan. They'll say you didn't get the well inspected, that some underground storage tank is leaking. They'll let your cattle loose, or your horses. Brewster knows there are lines I won't cross, but I've seen too many coincidences go his way not to warn you. Thwarting him is ill-advised."

She rubbed her chin across the cat's head. Hotay sent Declan a look that combined feline disgust with she likes me better and always will.

"What does Brewster have over you, Declan? He must have you by the balls somehow. A man does not stay awake half the night with a boogered-up horse, get all lit up talking about engineering for deaf people, and make me a bed of straw bales—much less a cup of coffee—and then turn around and knife me in the heart unless his back's to the wall."

Declan didn't understand her question at first. He tried patting Hotay on the head, and the cat hissed at him and batted at his hand—claws extended.

"Good kitty." Claudia kissed Hotay's ear. "Why don't you tell Brewster this is one special project he needs to drop? You solve this guy's problems, and calling in the occasional favor the other direction is part of how business is done."

She was talking to him. Declan took heart from the fact that Claudia was talking to him, trying to understand the challenge she faced.

"You understand how business is done, Claudia, but Thad Brewster inherited his money and has never had to work a day in his life. He dabbles at business when it pleases him to, then comes roaring into the boardroom and throws his money and his temper around. He has no children, his father is gone, his mother thinks the sun rises in his baby-blue eyes. Life is pretty much on his terms."

"A rogue stud colt," Claudia said, scratching Hotay's chin. "Ranker 'n hell, and gets worse the longer he's allowed to get away with his bad manners. You picked a bad bronc, Declan. He'll buck you off and stomp you for the fun of it."

Well put. "I know that now. Two years ago, Brewster was the sincerely grateful oil executive who told me I was the answer to his prayers. Nothing could have pleased him more than welcoming me to Texas on his payroll."

"You fell hard," Claudia said. "Texas will do that. Not that I forgive you."

Declan could not expect her forgiveness and, in fact, didn't want it. He did, though, want her respect.

"If I cross Brewster, I'll be on the next plane to Edinburgh, with no hope of returning for a long, long time. He'll still come after your ranch, and I won't be around to ensure the terms are reasonable."

Claudia set the cat aside. "You are not my new best friend, Declan. Your situation is not my fault, and you could cost me my home. Brewster probably pays you a handsome salary, good benefits, with hot and cold running dancing girls on Friday nights. If you're done threatening me, I have horses to ride."

"And I have a paycheck to earn," Declan retorted. "I work for Thad Brewster, Claudia, and I owe him my loyalty, even when I disagree with his objectives."

She shot to her feet. "Then you're as bad as he is, Declan, because his objectives are greedy, selfish, and wrong. You're paid up here through the week, and I honestly need the money, so I won't throw you out. Just stay out of my way, and don't provoke me."

"If you will give me five minutes of your time, I can explain to you why Brewster wants this ranch," Declan said, keeping to his seat. "I'm hoping that sometime in the next six days, I can figure out a way to get him what he needs, without costing you what you love. I can't do that alone Claudia, and I don't think you'll outfox Brewster on your own either. He's rich, canny, unscrupulous, and determined."

Claudia let the cat out the back door, and for a moment, Declan thought she'd go stomping out after her pet. Instead, she closed the door and remained with her back to Declan.

"I hate this, Declan. I hate that you flew false colors, I hate that you work for a snake, and I hate that your snake is trying to slither into my canyon. He might be rich, crooked, and determined, but I'm from the Canyon, stubborn as hell, and madder than a wet hen. Start talking."

She hadn't included Declan on her list of hates. On the strength of that cheering realization, Declan launched into an explanation of the entire situation. He wasn't half started, though, when wheels crunched on the driveway.

"Damn," Claudia said, rising from the table. "I should have called Shiloh and moved her lesson. If you have only one punctual student, don't schedule her on Monday."

Monday…Declan had only a few days to solve a problem that affected him, Claudia, Kara, and possibly the well-being of every employee who relied on a Brewster paycheck to keep body and soul together.

"May I watch the riding lesson?" He didn't want to let Claudia out of his sight.

"No, you may not. Shiloh Malloy is a relatively new student, and railbirds are a pain in the behind on a good day. I'm so upset with you right now I don't want to look at you, and horses pick up on that stuff."

"I understand. I'm going for a hike, then, and I'll see you at lunch."

She left to teach her lesson and didn't spare Declan so much as a backward glance.

***

Small riders had the potential to be the most effective. Claudia had long known this, and Shiloh Malloy was proof in the saddle. Some of the least effective riders were the big guys who tried to muscle and dominate their way through interactions with the horse. They were almost incapable of relying on anything besides brute strength. When a tricky moment arose, they had no communication skills available to ease them or their horse through the knotholes.

Children and diminutive adults soon learned not to risk a power struggle with such a large animal, and instead became the equestrian equivalent of good listeners. When the horse felt respected, a dialogue could ensue, rather than a lecture from rider to mount.

Shiloh was on her way to becoming a very good listener.

"How are things on the Malloy Ranch?" Claudia asked as Shiloh finished up her lesson.

"It's different, without Abby,"Shiloh said, patting the mare. Bluebell was a love—on the flat. She could get hotter than a three-dollar pistol over fences, but Shiloh wasn't yet ready to start jumping. "Abby was the most determined of us three sisters to stay on the property, and then she met Cooper…She's right across the fence line, I know, but it's funny how I miss somebody I never knew existed."

"Green-up's right around the corner," Claudia said. "You'll be too busy to miss her, though there's a lot of sharing of work at this end of the Canyon in spring. Roundup, making hay, spring shots, mending fences…We cooperate as much as we can. You're getting more confident in the saddle too. Soon you'll be able to ride over to see Abby and Cooper."

Shiloh chattered on, about a cake recipe her sister Bonnie had made for Sunday dinner, and the joys of fixing a fence in the middle of a downpour, but Claudia only half-heard her. Shiloh's comment about missing somebody she'd never known before stuck in Claudia's mind, because it fit her feelings for Declan.

Why did he, of all people, have to be wearing a black hat?

"Bluebell is pretty much cooled out," Claudia said. "You can put her up now."

Shiloh brought the mare to a halt, but didn't get off. "Claudia, I know you have paying guests here from time to time, so maybe you know this guy. There's some kind of tall, dark, and handsome walking along down by your creek. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry."

From Bluebell's back, Shiloh had a little more height than Claudia, and thus a better line of sight down to the creek.

"That's Declan MacLeod, my guest for the week, and every rancher's worst nightmare short of hoof and mouth disease. Let's put the mare up."

Shiloh swung down, brought the reins over the mare's head, and led the horse to the gate. "If he's a nightmare, then I'd like to see your sweet dreams, girlfriend."

Shiloh was new to the Canyon, but her late father had owned the Malloy Ranch since before Claudia had been born. Shiloh was a neighbor, and deserved to know what was going on in her backyard.

"Declan MacLeod works for a big oil company, and his boss bought the mortgage on my property. They want to get their hands on the deed so they can turn this place into some sort of corporate training center or wilderness retreat."

Shiloh led Bluebell to her stall and slipped off the bridle. "What do you want?"

Claudia took the bridle while Shiloh unbuckled the girth. "Besides to cry?"

"Cry, get drunk, cuss a blue streak—but that won't solve the problem. Don't suppose you can pay off the mortgage?"

"Not this year, that's for danged sure." They traded the halter for the girth. "I'm not behind on the mortgage, but I haven't paid for all of my seed yet either." 

The seed and feed store was sort of an auxiliary bank for most ranches, especially in lean years. A line of credit on reasonable terms could be the salvation of a ranch, but Claudia hated to owe anybody anything.

"I don't think folk around here will take too kindly to a corporate-anything setting up shop in the Canyon," Shiloh said, handing Claudia the saddle and pad. "That's assuming the zoning authorities would allow such a thing. You might ask a few questions in the county office, do a little Web surfing."

"I'll be doing a lot of Web surfing." Also some crying. "Declan is here as a guest, and I don't think he likes what he's being paid to do, but he'll get my ranch away from me any legal way he can."

The mare shook, sending a cascade of blue roan hair into the straw.

"Gotta love spring," Shiloh said. "I despise a man who hides behind that old line about just following orders. If the price of his honor is merely a paycheck, then he's not much of a man. If he sneaked onto the Bar J pretending to be a guest just so he could spy on you, he's not even a very good weasel."

"Lord help the man who crosses you, Shiloh Malloy."

"Lord help anybody who crosses me or my sisters. C'mon, Blue. Time to get out the curry comb and treat you like the princess you are."

Shiloh led the mare to the crossties, where the horse would be thoroughly groomed, and the resulting mess cleaned up before Shiloh turned Bluebell out with her buddies. Claudia put the saddle back on its rack in the tack room, washed off the bit, tied up the bridle, and tossed the sweaty plaid saddle pad over the clothesline to dry.

Declan was making his way up from the creek, his progress visible from the barnyard. He stopped halfway to the ranch house, turned, and took a picture.

Claudia wanted to snatch his phone away and toss it into the nearest horse trough. Tell your thieving bastard boss this is my ranch, she wanted to shout. Mine and Kara's.

She took a seat at the bottom of the porch steps, and already, even at midmorning, the sun had some heat to it. Declan neither hurried nor hung back, and then he took the place beside her.

"Are we still speaking?" he asked.

"Barely. You're not a weasel, though. You at least told me what you're up to." Which mattered, some.

"I was looking for potential hazards on the property—sinkholes, old trash heaps, evidence of distressed vegetation that suggests you've been dumping paint or pesticides where you oughtn't. Environmental liability might force Brewster to change his mind."

Claudia would never have come up with that angle. "And?"

"From what I could see, every acre of this ranch is beautiful. You not only have access to the river, you have your own spring-fed creek, and that makes this property…"

"Paradise, also valuable as hell. Not to mention I share a property line with state land, which makes for great trail rides, and I have some of the nicest neighbors I could ask for. Why would I want to sell this?"

Declan unlaced his hiking boots. "You won't want to, but you'll do it in the end, unless I can think of another solution."

"I don't think the zoning folks will go for turning this place into a corporate spa, Declan. They're Canyon folks from way back, and they won't—"

"You're grandfathered," Declan said. "I already checked."

Despite the warmth in the morning sun, cold slithered through Claudia's guts. "What does that mean? I'm grandfathered?"

"Your family has been operating a B&B on this property for decades, since long before there were any zoning or use restrictions. That creates a prior exception to any agricultural or residential use requirements. To expand the B&B to a boutique corporate retreat facility will be all too easy with the resources Brewster has. Your brochure says you can accommodate groups of up to forty, and Brewster won't need more than that, on paper."

Well, damn. In more years than Claudia cared to admit, the B&B income had made a significant difference to the bottom line. To have guests on the property produced income as well as deductible expenses that would have been simple home maintenance otherwise, and it made more of the horse operation revenue-generating.

Then too, if she ever added the entire bunkhouse to the bed count—not just the fancier rooms—she could accommodate more than forty guests, easily.

"You're telling me my great-grandma's B&B will be used to get Brewster's cowboy boot through my front door?"

"Aye."

"So why don't you just bring in the bulldozers now, Declan? Give me a few minutes to load up the horses, and then you can wreck my life—about which I'm upset—and wreck Kara's too, for which I ought to kill you dead forever."

He slipped off his boots and set them on the steps, the same as Claudia's daddy had done for years, the same as Kara did now, if her footwear was muddy.

"We never finished our discussion this morning," Declan said. "The larger context is that Brewster has played fast and loose with his inheritance, and if he can't find an investor, or a significant partner, he'll be a casualty of the readjustment going on throughout the energy industry."

Declan wore thick gray wool socks that looked like they'd hold up to North Sea blizzards. What did his feet look like?

"What in the Sam-damn hell do I care about Thad Brewster's little kingdom falling apart? You can get another job, and he'll probably land on his feet too."

Declan scooped up a handful of dirt, which was more like sand at the bottom of the steps. He let the fine grains trickle through his fingers.

"What about the two thousand people who work for Brewster Energy, Claudia? A lot of them are young, trying to start families on the decent pay they can make on a rig. Many are trying to pay off the hellacious college loans you Americans saddle your young people with. The managers tend to be older, many of them hoping to hang on long enough that they have something substantial to retire on. Brewster doesn't care about them half as much as he should, and if he goes down, he takes thousands of people with him."

Well, hell. This was why Declan would steal her ranch, for those people whose well-being Brewster had so casually imperiled.

"Let those employees choose more wisely the next time they're job hunting," Claudia said, "because it sounds like sooner or later, Thad Brewster is going to piss away his inheritance and their livelihoods."

More sand trickled away on the morning breeze. "I vote for later, and I have the rest of this week to change later to possibly never, if you'll give me that time to try to come up with a solution."

"You're asking a lot, Declan." To see him at meals, around the property. To know he was sleeping under the roof his boss wanted to take from her. Putting his boots under the table Claudia's great-grandmother had made with her own hands.

"A lot is at stake. I'm asking for a few days, Claudia, and if you send me packing, Brewster's next emissary won't play by any recognizable rules."

Ranches were vulnerable, in part because they were isolated, and in part because ranching successfully required a lot of luck. Herds could stampede, wells go dry, windmills break when parts at the nearest hardware store were out of stock.

"Your reservation is paid up," Claudia said, getting to her feet, "and I'll listen to what you have to say up to a point, but I'm not helping you steal Kara's heritage."

"Thank you," Declan said, rising. "A fair hearing is a start, and more than many a Scot has been given in the past. If that's what I can get, I'll take it."

"That's all you'll get,"Claudia said, meaning it. The part of her that had admitted to lonely wishes where Declan was concerned would just have to deal with the disappointment of not having what she longed for from him—not having it ever.

***

For most of three days, Declan had studied land records, looking for a cloud on the Bar J title, but the Jensens had handed the ranch down from father to son to daughter in a short, clean line. No odd easements interfered with the land use, no liens complicated the transfer. From an environmental standpoint, few properties were more pristine, and—worse yet, from Declan's perspective—outside every window of the Bar J ranch house lay a postcard vista of the Canyon.

Worst of all, Declan was falling in love with the woman whose life he was supposed to wreck.

Claudia was unfailingly patient with her riding students and had a genius for figuring out how to explain a situation so a rider could get the desired result from the horse. Claudia was equally conscientious in the care of her land and livestock, and a tireless worker when it came to the endless chores necessary to keep a ranch operation moving forward.

By Thursday afternoon, Declan had had enough.

"We're getting off the property," he announced as he and Claudia scrubbed out a stock tank under brilliantly sunny skies.

"I beg your pardon?"

Declan tossed his scrub brush into a bucket. "I'm thinking myself in circles, and I need a change of scene. I think you do too."

Claudia turned a stopcock and let the murky water in the bottom of the tank drain away into the red earth.

"You think I should leave the Bar J now, with you, when you're trying to steal it out from under me?"

Declan had come to loathe the verb to steal, while Claudia tucked it into every other sentence.

"Whether you go out for a beer with me tonight, or stay home and fret won't make any difference. I have only two more days to come up with a reason for Brewster to flash some other property under Miranda Davis's nose, and all I'm doing is traveling the same ground—"

"Don't you be insulting Andy Davis's nose," Claudia said, taking a drink from her water bottle. "But what does she have to do with all of this?"

"She's the competitor Brewster's trying to get in bed with—probably literally. Her family saw the sustainable-energy initiative coming, while Brewster is pretending we'll run out of sunshine, wind, wood, tide, and geothermal sources next week."

"Miranda Davis is a smart gal," Claudia said. "You should hydrate, Declan."

He got a water bottle out of the cooler in the back of the dually. "How well do you know Miranda Davis?" 

"I knew her. We ended up in the same freshman English class, and if that's not trial by ordeal, I don't know what is. We also played on the same intramural volleyball team, and she likes horses, or she did eight years ago. I need to get back to the house. Kara will be home soon."

No matter how hard Claudia worked, or what chores needed tending to, she was always at the ranch house when Kara got home from school. Declan's mum had observed the same priority.

"What do you think Miranda Davis will make of my boss?" he asked, gathering up the buckets and rags they'd used to clean the tank.

"I hope Andy Davis makes mincemeat of him, and leaves his remains for the buzzards, meaning no disrespect to the buzzards. My friendly neighborhood banker deserves the same fate for flipping my mortgage paper without asking enough questions of the party who bought it."

Declan climbed into the truck and buckled in. "Brewster combines charm, threats, and money in whatever way he thinks will accomplish his aims. I'm waiting for the situation where it all comes back to bite him in the ass, but then he'll expect me to fix everything."

Claudia started the engine. The truck ran like a top—a diesel top. "Brewster can steal my ranch, Declan, and I'll walk off this property after a good, hard fight, knowing I did my best, and all he got was my land. I'll take the money and rebuild, and my neighbors will support me every step of the way. That's bad, but Jensens have survived worse. Brewster holds your dreams in his greedy, wealthy hands, and when you're done sorting out how to save my ranch, you ought to see what you can do about saving your dreams."

The truck bumped along through the chaparral, while the significance of Claudia's observation sank into Declan's already grim mood.

If Declan failed to deliver for Brewster, the dream of a life under blue Texas skies was over. That was bad, as Claudia had said, but given enough time and determination, Declan could probably parlay his unique qualifications into a job with another Texas oil company.

Texas alone though, was no longer enough. Declan's dreams had expanded to include a future where he was welcome on Claudia's property too, if not in her arms.