Return to Marker Ranch (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

E
VEN
THOUGH
M
ARKER
R
ANCH
was just down the road, Lori had never actually been there. She'd grown up with Wade and wasted her teenage years in the throes of a tortured crush on the bad boy he became. But no one she knew had ever set foot on his family's ranch. Wade's dad and older brothers hadn't exactly encouraged visitors. In fact, they'd been downright scary.

She squinted at a weathered sign nailed to a post at the start of the driveway. The faded black letters read Keep Out
.
Lori wasn't usually one to break the rules, but today was different. Her ranch was at stake.

Her truck pitched and bumped through the minefield of potholes that passed for a driveway. The place was a mess. One entire pasture was filled with rusted-out cars. The main barn was leaning and sagging, tired and gray, its paint long gone. The farmhouse was in a similar state. Roof shingles were missing and the porch looked like it was about to fall right off the house. It was a shame because it had obviously been a lovely home long ago.

The place looked deserted. There was none of the bustle you'd find around a typical ranch house. No dogs barking, chickens fluttering or livestock clamoring for dinner. The silence made her uneasy, and suddenly she wondered if she should have brought someone with her. She stepped out of the truck, keeping one hand on the door. “Hello?” she called.

Her voice disappeared into the dry heat of the late afternoon. “Hello?” she tried again.

She shut the door and took a few steps toward the house, but a noise coming from a ramshackle plywood shed to her left stopped her in her tracks. There was a clanking and a scraping, and then a skateboard came flying out the shed door and landed in the grass with a thud. As Lori watched in amazement, a Weedwacker followed. Then a chain saw. Then another.

She took a few steps toward the shed. A car wheel rolled out of the dim interior, and she dodged out of its path. “Hey!” she yelled. “Anyone in there?”

There was silence, then the crunching of boots on gravel. A man stepped out of the shadows, and Lori's heart hit her stomach with a soft, sickening thump of recognition.
Wade Hoffman.

He had the same dark brown hair, but it was shorter now. The same dark eyes and high cheekbones. She'd traced her fingertips along them the night they'd spent together.
Don't
think of that.
She bit down on her lip, the sharp pain a reminder of all the pain he'd caused.
Don't
ever
think of that.

“Lori?” he asked, and his voice sounded kind of hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn't know you were back.” And then she felt the impact of her own words ramming into her chest. “How long have you been here?”

“About six weeks.”

It stung. She shouldn't care what he did. Or where he went. But it stung. He'd come home and hadn't even bothered to get in touch. For six weeks.

He reached up on the door, pulled a battered straw cowboy hat off a nail and clapped it on his head. Then he walked around the scattered junk to stand in front of her. Close up he was bigger than she remembered. He'd always been several inches taller than her—most people were. But now he was so solid that even through the faded gray T-shirt she could tell he was all muscle. As a teenager he'd been good-looking. Since then he'd gone from good-looking to gorgeous.

She didn't want him to be gorgeous. This day was getting worse, if that was possible.

He was waiting for her to say something, but it was hard to think when his eyes were the same deep brown she remembered. They'd gone almost black when he'd kissed her. Her voice came out as a weird squeak. “You're here to stay?”

“Yup.” He looked wary, his jaw set with tension. But she knew that if he gave one of his rare smiles, it would change everything. Light him up. It always had.

Don't think about his damn smile.
He'd been here long enough to build a giant well above hers. Long enough to use up all her water. And he'd never once contacted her.

“Oh.” It was all she could manage and still get oxygen. He'd always done that. Crowded her, sucked up all the air just by standing close.

“You hadn't heard?” he asked. “Did the Benson gossip machine break down while I was gone?”

She gave the expected smile, but it felt stiff. “I haven't been to town much the past month or so. My dad retired to Florida. There was all the packing to get him ready and then...” How to explain the last couple of months? She'd dropped into bed exhausted every night. There'd been no time to go to town and hear the gossip. “Well, it's been busy, what with all the fall cattle work starting.”

“I've got a few cattle of my own here now,” he offered.

“Really?” She made a mental note to count her stock very carefully when she collected them from the mountains. Wade used to be the lone honest Hoffman son, but things could change.

“Yup. I'm planning on fixing this place up...turn it into a real working ranch.”

“Oh.” What was she supposed to say to that? “That's great.” Suddenly the last bit of the resilience that had kept her going over the past hard months melted away. She had an overwhelming urge to lie down in the oily dust of Wade's junkyard ranch and give up. Wade was her permanent next-door neighbor? Who'd taken her water? She knew life wasn't fair. But sometimes it doled out bits of unfairness so cruel they felt like cuts to the soul.

“You okay, Lori? You look kind of pale.” Wade stepped forward and put a hand on her upper arm as if to support her. But the strength of his fingers, and the memories they sent burning to the surface of her mind, had the opposite effect. Her knees felt shaky and she pulled away from him.

“I'm fine.” But she wasn't. This wasn't okay. Wade, here, was not okay.

“Let me get you some water,” he offered.

Her laugh wheezed like a mule's bray. “Water. Yeah, I'd love some water.
My
water.”

Wariness crept like a cloud across Wade's eyes. “I'm missing something here, Lori. Look, you need to sit down.”

He obviously thought she was crazy. She felt crazy. Felt like she'd crossed through some time warp and crashed right into that naive girl she'd been back when she'd slept with him.

“I'm fine, really.” She forced her back muscles straight, her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms so the pain would wake her up, sharpen her traitorous mind. “I'm here because you built a well. And ruined mine.”

He stared at her. “How...”

“Up on the southern edge of your ranch? Well, the way our boundaries are, your property is above mine. So your well is uphill from my well. And mine dried out.”

“Oh, crap.” He had the grace to look stricken.

She nodded. “That just about sums it up.”

“What do we do now?”

At least he wasn't going on the defensive, trying to deny it or bully her or any of the other worries she'd had on the drive over. “Shut it down and give me my water back.”

He looked past her, uphill and south, in the direction of the new tank, though they couldn't see it from here. “I can't do that. I spent most of my combat pay on that thing.”

“Combat?” Pieces of this new version of Wade—the muscles, the poise, the calm, curt way he was speaking—all fell into place. “You were in combat? Fighting?”

“Yup.”

He didn't say more and she didn't ask. How did you ask about something like that? And it was none of her business, anyway. He'd made that clear by his silence in the weeks since he'd come home.

That silence hurt, but maybe the hurt was good. It would add another layer to her carefully honed resentment. A resentment and a regret that had carried her through so many hard times it had become a part of her. A strong part, kind of like a second skeleton. “Look, I'm sorry you spent your money on that well. You should have checked with me first. That water belongs to my ranch.”

“I looked into that. You don't own the rights.”

His words were little earthquakes, shaking her world. She'd always assumed her father had taken care of that when he first drilled. “That can't be true.”

“I wouldn't lie to you.”

“I'm not saying you would.” She studied the ground at her feet, frantically going through her options. “It's just a lot to take in.”

“I didn't mean to cause you harm, Lori.”

“Ha.” She blurted it out without thinking. He was walking, talking harm. She swallowed hard, getting her misfiring mind under control. “I'm sure. But here's some advice. It's best to check in with your neighbors before you start a big project like that. We're all connected out here.”

He looked away for a moment before he spoke. “I guess I didn't realize it.”

“I guess you didn't.” Everything he didn't realize sat on her shoulders in an oppressive weight. Their night together had changed her life forever. And he had no idea. She pulled the keys to her truck out of her pocket. There was nothing for her here.

“Look, I'm sorry about the water.”

“Sorry doesn't help. And if you were truly sorry, you'd shut down that well.”

“I wish I could, but I can't.”

“Then I'll have to figure out what to do next.” She needed to get out of here. Needed to get far away from this new betrayal and these unearthed memories and all her endless, useless wishing that they'd both done things differently. “I'd better go.”

“It was good to see you.” He held out his hand to shake hers. She didn't want to take it. Didn't want to feel that strength ever again. His strength had always been her weakness.

She grabbed his hand and there it was. All wrapped around hers, fingers long and strong and warm. As compelling as she'd dreaded.
Damn him.
She yanked her hand back. “I'll call the driller. And if he can't help me, I'll call my lawyer.” There. That felt better. She was strong and fierce when she let the old bitterness drive her. He'd been careless with her when they were young, and now he was being careless with her again. With her ranch, her career, her livelihood, her life. But this time she wouldn't crumble or let him destroy her. She'd fight back.

“A lawyer? Lori, come on...”

“No,
you
come on. You can't just come back here after all these years and sink a well that uses up all my water. I'm in charge of Lone Mountain Ranch now, and if I need a lawyer to get my water back, I'm damn well going to call one.”

“I didn't know my well would dry yours out. And my guess is that you don't know for sure that it has.”

There was truth there, but she wouldn't admit it. Not when he was digging in his heels. “I checked around up there and didn't see any other reason for it.”

He shrugged. “Well, let's wait to hear what the driller has to say. I mean, we're friends, right? We can solve this problem.”

“Friends?” She let him see her cynicism. “Is that what we are?”

He looked at her carefully, like she was some kind of feral thing that might reach out and bite. “I always thought so.”

“Do you even remember...” She stopped. There was no use talking about it. No way he could know the pain he'd helped cause. No way she wanted to tell him. “I've got to get back.” She started to turn away when something caught her eye. “Hang on.” She stooped and picked up one of the chain saws he'd left on the ground. “That's my ranch's logo. The Lone Mountain. It's scratched out, but...see?” She shoved it toward him, blade first.

“Easy there.” He stepped around the blade and moved closer to see where she pointed. “You're right. That's yours. Want to take it? I'll throw in a Weedwacker, too.” He picked one up and held it out to her, a humorless smile tilting the corner of his mouth. She didn't want to notice the way it creased a bitter dimple into his cheek.

“How can you joke about this? Is all this stuff stolen?”

“I reckon.”

“That's all you can say?
You reckon?
When you've got stolen property from half the county here?”

“More like half the state, I think.”

She stared at him, looking for shame, or remorse, or some indication of what he thought about it all. But he just stared right back at her, not a hint of apology in his eyes. She couldn't care less about the stolen chain saw. Her water was the real crime here.

“Well, I'll leave you to your illegal junkyard, then.”

He stilled. Her blow had hit home. “That's just low. You know I didn't steal it. Don't be like the rest of this town and judge me because of my family.” His smile was gone and his voice was quiet. “I'd expect a little more kindness from the Lori I used to know.”

“Kindness?” Her voice went shrill, and she stopped herself. Tried to breathe. Tried to bring her words lower. “This from the guy who didn't even bother to knock on my door before he drilled a well over mine?”

“I'm new at this. I didn't know.”

“It was your
responsibility
to know.”
Kindness.
Her rage made her breath catch. How dare he call her unkind, when he'd been so cruel the last time they'd seen each other? “I'll give you some kindness...by telling you a hard truth about ranching. There is no room for excuses. If you screw up, you've got to own up to it and fix the problem right away. Because your land, your animals, your staff, your family, they all need you not to screw up. They rely on you for everything, and your mistakes can affect them in huge ways. So don't waste your time on excuses. Just fix the problem.”

“Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate.”

She gaped at him. He'd always done that. Seen right through her into what was really going on. Lately it felt like every move she made had an extra weight attached to it. The weight of all the people who needed Lone Mountain to survive this damn drought. Who saw ranches going under all around them and were counting on her to pull a miracle out of her pocket.