Lone Star Burn_The Foreman and the Lady
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by RCardello LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Lone Star Burn remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of RCardello LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
The Foreman and the Lady
By
Kate Richards
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Also by Kate Richards
Dear Reader,
I am so proud to be part of Ruth Cardello’s Lone Star Burn Kindle World. I was drawn to the emotional impact of the stories and hoped to develop some characters of my own who might live in the Fort Mavis area. As it turned out, Will Kyle and Maggie Lynn McAfee are former residents but the town has a way of drawing people in and these two have a lot to gain by returning to their roots. I hope you’ll enjoy their story as well as that of Baxter, Maggie’s brother, who as his last act on Earth wants to bring joy to his sister and his best buddy. I shed more than a few tears writing The Foreman and the Lady
Take care,
Kate Richards
Facebook Fan Page http://on.fb.me/14Vqx48
Kate Richards Author FB: http://on.fb.me/1nfjxKy
Goodreads Page http://bit.ly/19yVcWh
Twitter http://bit.ly/17AeWeM
Amazon Central http://www.amazon.com/KateRichards/e/B003U5A8H2
Email katerichards09@gmail.com
The Foreman and the Lady
Maggie McAfee has not returned to Honeysuckle Ranch since her parents died in an accident a few years before. She has a great job as a professor of obscure literature looking toward tenure at a big California university. Life is perfect. Well not perfect, but pretty good. She misses her brother and dreams of her high school sweetheart, but a woman can’t have everything. And what good was she to the ranch? She couldn’t even sit a horse. It would take a lot to get her home again. Like a terminally ill brother who has only days or weeks to live.
Will Kyle has also been far from the Fort Travis area for the past several years. His stepfather’s heavy handed takeover of his family property made being there too painful. But his current job as foreman for a large ranch in Oklahoma has ended suddenly and Baxter McAfee’s job offer comes at a great time. What could be better than working for his old buddy on the prettiest ranch, with the best reputation? And with Maggie never coming home, his heart is safe.
But fate has other plans, or maybe Baxter does. A collision of hearts in the face of impending grief will almost certainly end in disaster. No matter how much a dying man wishes for the two people he loves the most to realize what fools they’ve been.
Dear Maggie,
I know it’s been a while since we spoke. I didn’t even know how to reach you by phone or email, so you forced me to put pen to paper as the old-timey folks used to say. I hope your address hasn’t changed.
I’ve thought of you often since Mom and Dad’s funeral, but after the harsh words we exchanged, I didn’t know what to say to unsay everything. No matter what, you’re my sister and my only family.
It’s time to end the silence and maybe see if we can’t get back on a friendly basis. Or, at least, to where you don’t hate me anymore. I had no right to call you names when I was no better. Of course you were upset when Dad left me control of the ranch, but, to be fair, he did give you a nice chunk of change, as well as your minority share, and you never wanted this place.
Which is why it’s hard to ask you to come back. I want to see you, to hug you and tell you how much I’ve always loved my city slicker of a baby sis. Before you wonder, I can’t come to you. The doc says I don’t have much time left and traveling would probably be the end of me. So if you can find it in your heart to forgive, or at least to pity your brother enough to come say good-bye…I’ll see you soon.
If you can’t, I’ll understand, but I’m pulling the guilt card here. How can you live with yourself if you let your only brother leave this Earth without benefit of kith or kin? What is kith anyway?
I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me when you come.
Please come.
Your repentant brother,
Baxter
P.S. Bring Ghirardelli.
Chapter One
Maggie folded the letter carefully and slipped it back into its envelope, settling back into her seat on the crowded jetliner. She’d read it so many times, the creases were worn and tearstains blurred some of the ink. But she knew what it said. It said her brother was dying.
It didn’t say how soon and she’d been unable to reach him by phone. She’d called but the damn answering machine—still with her parents’ message, which almost killed her—apparently didn’t work any better now than it had before. Meaning, if nobody answered, it went into the ethers.
So she hadn’t been able to let him know she was coming, and she didn’t know any more than what the letter held. She’d had to take time off from the semester and allow the university to get someone in to cover a couple of weeks, showing the department head the note from her dying brother. Harmon Ellis practically shoved her out the door, promising to cover her classes himself. He was wonderful, but the administration might not be so understanding. Working toward tenure, leaving at all was a huge risk, but Baxter was very sick.
Dying.
He wasn’t even thirty.
What was killing him? Could she save him with better care? He’d never been one to go to the doctor on a regular basis or anything sensible like that. So he’d probably been ill for quite some time before becoming sick enough to drive into town and get a diagnosis.
Nothing ran in the family so far as she knew. Mom and Dad had died in an accident on the highway. A drunk driver hit a semi causing it to tip over onto their pickup and crush them, killing them instantly. She’d heard little medical history about her grandparents, and her mom and dad were only children. So her mind ran wild with what could be killing her brother.
Cancer? A previously undiagnosed heart malfunction? Some kind of horrible injury? A ranch held so many possible ways for that to happen. She pictured him crumpled under the hooves of one of those big, mean bulls he loved so much he treated them like pets. Lying in bed with his poor, broken body slowly fading. Shaking her head, she banished the image as useless and destructive.
She just didn’t know. They’d be landing in a moment, and she still had a long drive to the ranch. Hang in there, Baxter. Maybe we can still save you.
Will Kyle tossed his duffle in the back of his pickup and gunned the engine. Classic country poured out of the vintage Pioneer stereo in the dash. Probably worth more than the whole rest of the truck in its current state. If he never saw the dust of Oklahoma again it would be too soon. Not that he didn’t like the state, or his opinion reflected on most of the nice folks there, except for one. Two.
Carmen Santiago, his former boss. They’d had a
great time together until she’d hooked up with the rancher next door and decided the opportunity to merge their spreads outweighed a foreman who ran her ranch into profitability and spent hot nights tangled in her sheets. Hoss Hardison was a good old boy who believed a woman belonged in the living room entertaining out of town guests and shopping in The City. Carmen, who’d worked her sassy ass off for years on her ranch, decided she liked the idea and married him in a big splashy Fourth of July weekend wedding. Carmen had moved to her new husband’s home and Will thought he could go on handling the ranch matters as usual until, a week before, Hoss handed him his walking papers. Mr. and the new Mrs. Hardison would prefer he not stay too close, so they added a generous separation bonus if he’d leave the state.
Lucky he wasn’t sensitive.
The long drive gave him time to cool off and consider the positives. Carmen never promised him forever, and he’d never asked her to. A good business relationship and fun sex was more than enough for a man who didn’t want to settle down anyway. Still, he’d managed to put down roots and seen no reason why they shouldn’t go on as they were. They’d even discussed his becoming a partner. He’d undone all the damage to the ranch’s reputation caused by Carmen’s late husband’s preference for spending money on gambling and loose women rather than his obligations.
Hoss had never paid any attention to Carmen until her spread showed a profit. Until her cattle began to bring great prices and her small herd of horses became in high demand. He’d fixed it. Hardison would benefit.
And he’d learned a valuable lesson about trusting women.
Don’t.
The job offer from Baxter McAfee had arrived right after the pink slip, and he’d wasted no time replying. A year’s contract from his old buddy. He’d work for men from now on and do the job he was hired to do. No extras in or out of the bedroom like tended to happen with his women bosses. His tense shoulders eased at the thought. He’d get up early and work hard and earn a pay slip. Lots of women in town he could spend an evening with, no strings attached. A man needed relief from time to time. But his heart would stay closed. Dang, he’d been perfectly fine in his arrangement with Carmen. She’d been so grateful for his help.
Late summer made for a hot drive, reminding him constantly of the lack of air conditioning in his “classic” Ford F100 pickup. He’d bought the 1969 several years before, decent engine, bad paint, but not a speck of rust, with the intention of fixing it up. Unfortunately he’d been so busy fixing up Carmen’s ranch he hadn’t had time to work on anything else.
He’d make it happen on Honeysuckle Ranch where his contract specified at least one day off a week and two weeks paid vacation in the first year. No more slaving for other people’s benefit.
Will reached into the cooler at his side and pulled out a bottle of Dr. Pepper. While he drank more water than sugary drinks these days, he celebrated crossing the line back into his home state with sixteen ounces of the good stuff. It went down cool and fizzy and spicy as always, and he cautioned himself not to make a habit of it.
What a wild man, worried about drinking too much coke. His mama always called all carbonated beverages coke, no matter what they really were. Thinking of it made him ache a little. He hadn’t been home in a long time and, while he preferred to blame his absence on his stepfather’s bad attitude, he had no excuse for neglecting his mama. Except distance and work, and his new job stood less than twenty miles from home.
Fort Mavis could be welcoming or not and, for the former bad boy who had spent far too many Saturday nights tearing up the place and one memorable weekend in jail after a less than smart prank on the high school principal, probably not. What made Baxter call him, anyway? He’d always been a great help to his late father and from what little gossip made its way across the state line via Mama’s letters, he’d improved the place. Baxter had also stayed in touch with Christmas cards and the occasional smartass note on their shared birthday. Which was coming up. First time since high school they’d celebrate together. It made him happier than it probably should to think of sharing cake and beer with his old friend. Weird combo, but there you had it.
Would Baxter’s sister come home for the occasion? Thirty was a big year, but Maggie hadn’t been home since their parents’ funeral, which he’d not heard about in time to attend. She’d been a firecracker all through school, a few years behind them but always tagging along, red pigtails flying out behind her, long legs and arms like a young filly. What had she turned out like now? A professor, he’d heard. She’d probably be pale, with her hair pulled back in a bun and maybe glasses from reading endless student essays or whatever professors did.
He’d never even been on the grounds of a college.
Tipping back the last of the Dr. P, he tossed the bottle on the floor, aiming for the trash bag there. Once he’d fixed the old girl up, he’d refuse to allow eating and drinking in her. Like the one he’d sold years ago. What a beauty she’d been. Man, he’d be facing a lot of demons, heading back home.
Will patted his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he no longer carried there. Two years after quitting, he still reached for one when he thought of Fort Mavis and his family. He might be making a big mistake, letting the Hardisons drive him out of state, but he couldn’t stay around Hoss without bashing the sneering bastard’s face in, and he didn’t want to see the inside of a jail cell.
Outside of drifting until he found another job as foreman, he’d had little choice but to take the job offered by his old friend. And, he had to admit, it worried him Baxter asked for help.
Not that every rancher didn’t need a foreman, but his letter containing the job offer had a funny tone. He’d memorized it.
Dear Will,
How goes it? I saw your mother in Fort Mavis yesterday, at the post office, and she looked good. A little thin, but you know she never was one of those hefty ladies. I know you’re probably surprised to hear from me when it’s not Christmas or our birthday, but I want to make you a job offer. I need a foreman and I need him pretty soon so if you’re interested, call me.
Baxter
Baxter needed a foreman in a hurry. Why? He’d called the same day, and though his friend assured him the ranch thrived and brushed aside any need for concern, he’d known him too long to buy such horse shit. Baxter knew why Will stayed away and had never pushed him even to visit. Suddenly he needed him to move back?
The fact the letter arrived the day after his little talk with Hoss provided the final nudge, and he’d signed the Fed-Exed contract without even reading it. They’d discussed a year with the possibility of continuing on if they were both in agreement. So no worries there. And the salary was more than fair.
Starting to get hungry, Will spotted a diner on the side of the road with the fabulous name Betty’s Eats and decided to pull off and fill up before finishing the drive. If he couldn’t make Fort Mavis by dark, he’d push on and hope his headlights stayed lit. The wiring was somewhat cantankerous and first on his list to repair. Parking in front of the dilapidated shack, he hoped he wasn’t setting himself up for food poisoning, but half a dozen semis parked outside indicated a more positive outcome. He walked inside, inhaled the scent of savory grilling meats, and sighed. Betty knew her business and he planned to fill up on a burger, fries, and another Dr. Pepper.
It was good to be home. So far.
Chapter Two
Maggie kicked the tire on the rental car and cursed the agency, the spilled nails in the road, and the sketchy asphalt surface itself to a pit of Hell even Dante had not dreamed of. She stood in the middle of the road, cell phone held over her head, and turned in a slow circle, watching for bars. Even one… Just enough to call for help. But nothing. Not a single pathetic bar. She figuratively gnashed her teeth—despising dental work—and considered her options. Only one sprang to mind.
Well, two, but since no other cars had passed in a while, waving and screaming would probably not be effective. This road usually had at least some truck traffic in t
he middle of the day. Surely every driver could not be dining at the dump she’d passed a short time back with its row of trucks parked in front. At least they’d have a phone so she could call the rental car company and have them deal with the blowout. If there had been other cars near her when it went, she might have caused a nasty accident.
And she intended to tell them about it.
Back in Texas for less than three hours and the disasters already begun. Growing up in a family that participated in every local event, the bookworm daughter had always been a fish out of water. Or a steer out of the pasture? Nothing short of her big brother’s illness would have brought her back.
Always in her room, reading or doing homework, she’d preferred the Iliad to a rodeo and Aristotle to NASCAR. Her dad put her on an ATV when her inability to stay in the saddle resulted in her second broken arm in a year. She loved horses. Buttercup especially. Her klutziness made her the laughingstock of the town.
Whatever pantheon chose to put her in her family had quite a sense of humor.
Flipping the trunk open, she dug in her bag for a pair of more practical Nikes, which she had apparently forgotten to pack. While she hardly taught in stilettoes, her short heels dug into the hot asphalt, promising a fun stroll. She’d gone to the airport directly from her last class, and, thanks to San Francisco’s famous fog, spent the night there before the flight took off. So she still wore the skirt suit she’d taught in the day before, now a wrinkled mess, her hair probably stuck out in all directions, and, frustrated with the rental car company’s lack of the type of car she’d reserved, she’d forgotten to grab a bottle of water before peeling out of their lot. And left her brother’s chocolate bar at their counter.