Once a Rancher by Linda Lael Miller Page B

course, but I think he understands that. Once he’s through with his chores, the riding lesson and the homework stint with Mom—and Harry’s crammed him full of supper—I’ll bring him home.”
    She wouldn’t even have to cook? Surely, Grace thought, there had to be a downside to this generous offer.
    â€œHarry is a woman, I presume?” she asked.
    Slater nodded. “Housekeeper and second mother.” He headed for the door. “See you soon.”
    Just like that, he walked out as if the whole thing was settled, although technically, she hadn’t said yes.
    How the heck had all of this happened so fast? she fretted silently. And did Slater Carson always get his way?
    If that was the case, and she suspected it was, she was in big trouble.
    * * *
    S LATER WARMED THE bit in his hand, and Heck fought it for only a minute or so before he accepted it, and the bridle could be fastened into place. Once Slater had checked the cinch, he swung into the saddle. Drake was waiting for him, none too patiently, just outside the stable doors, mounted on his favorite horse, an Appaloosa gelding called Starburst.
    They rode out at a trot, past the fenced pasture near the house toward the far north section, before urging the horses into a faster pace.
    It was truly a beautiful evening; the mountains reflecting a ruby-red sunset streaked with indigo, snow already on the peaks, and the air had a crisp tang to it like a fine wine. If Mace could bottle that atmosphere, Mountain Vineyards would make a fortune, Slater thought as he and Drake and their horses covered some ground.
    Minutes later they came to the edge of a crystal-clear creek and splashed through at a walk. The aspens were turning, Slater noted, tinting the landscape gold. Winter was on the way, but that was fine. Christmas was special around Mustang Creek, and he enjoyed the changing seasons.
    â€œSee that stand of pine over there?” Drake pointed. “We found a good-size doe there a couple of days ago, and she’d been mauled. Badly. I doubt there’s anything left of her by now, but it was a fresh enough kill that the hair stood up on the back of my neck. I took out my rifle, could’ve sworn I was being watched. You know I don’t get nervous easily, but I had a real nasty feeling. And those missing calves—well, we haven’t come across so much as a hank of hide or a bone fragment.”
    Grim as it was, things like that happened on ranches now and then. Slater took an educated guess. “Wolves?”
    â€œMaybe.” Drake pushed his hat up a little, his expression pensive. “Except something had dragged the carcass of that doe quite a ways, and it wasn’t all that small. I’ve seen wolves relay a deer, taking turns running it until they wear it out, so they know how to work as a team. But I’m not ruling out a big cat.”
    Like most ranchers and farmers, the Carsons didn’t romanticize wolves. They were expert predators.
    â€œDid you move that prize bull in from the far pasture?” Slater asked, after swallowing the bile that scalded the back of his throat.
    Drake frowned. “I’ve considered it. Fact is, that critter is hell and gone scarier than any mountain lion, but he gets even more aggressive if we move him. Got away last time we tried to bring him in, and all hell broke loose. We had a one-bull rodeo that day.” A slow grin replaced Drake’s glum expression. “I reckon he’s fundamentally opposed to change of any kind, and I confess, I admire him for the strength of his convictions.”
    Slater was always impressed by how well Drake knew just about every animal on the place. He chuckled at his brother’s choice of words. “Poor old feller,” he said. Then, with a shake of his head and a quick adjustment of his hat, he observed, “Only you would worry about the preferences of a half-ton bull.”
    Drake’s answer was wry.