A Baby of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #1)(18)
Author: Brenda Novak

“I don’t miss on the days you sell apple. You’ve got one left, I hope.”

“I do. I have a Dutch apple and a sour cream apple, but that’s about it.”

“I’ll take the Dutch.”

“Come on in while I get it.” She went to the freezer in the small attached garage and brought back the pie he’d requested. “Been busy?” she asked conversationally as she wrote out his sales ticket.

He scowled. “You could say that. The owner’s sent his snot-nosed grandson out here for me to baby-sit.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s got to be thirty, but it’s baby-sitting all the same.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s supposed to take over the ranch, but he don’t know dollars from doughnuts.”

Delaney handed him his pie. “He must not be a country boy.”

“He’s not. First day here, he asks me what kind of cattle we’re runnin’ and wants to know whether we’ve fenced the entire property.”

She laughed. “Doesn’t the BLM own part of it?”

“Yeah.”

“Can he sit a horse?” she asked, accepting his eight dollars in exchange for the pie.

“From what I saw yesterday, he can, but only because he’s as ornery as they are.”

“Well, if he’s that ornery, he might make a good cowboy, given time. How long is he planning to stay?”

“Hasn’t said, but I give him three months. He’s not used to gettin’ his hands dirty, and there ain’t no way a pretty boy like that’s gonna last.”

“Well, I hope you’re rid of him soon.”

“You and me both,” he said, and with a tip of his hat, he stepped outside, where he nearly ran into Rebecca, who was coming up the walk.

“Hi, Roy,” she said, grabbing his arm to steady herself so she didn’t fall into the muddy flower bed. “I cut Dottie’s hair today at the beauty parlor. Said you got company out at the ranch.”

“We got trouble, you mean,” he grumbled.

“Can’t you use the help?”

“I need a cook for when Dottie’s daughter has her baby and Dottie goes out of state to help her. I don’t need someone who doesn’t know a damn thing about cooking or ranching.”

“Dottie didn’t seem to think Clive’s grandson is so bad,” Rebecca said.

“That’s ’cause she wants to set him up with her niece.”

“So he’s single?” Rebecca asked.

“Far as I know. But there’s no need to break off with Buddy. This guy’s a short-timer. He’s just here to please Grandpa. Soon as his backside’s sore enough from ridin’, he’ll head home to California. And the sooner the better, I say.”

Delaney could understand Roy’s frustration. These were hard times for ranchers, and he was a no-nonsense type who liked to get the job done. But his impatience with Dundee’s newcomer made her feel a touch empathetic. She’d once been new. What would she have done if the town hadn’t opened its arms to her?

“Wait a second, Roy,” she said. “I have one pie left. Maybe I should send it with you for your guest. It might make him feel more welcome.”

“I have bigger things to worry about than pampering the pampered,” he retorted.

“It’ll just take a minute.”

“No, he’s had everything he’s ever wanted. And from what his uncles tell me, he hasn’t been worth his keep since the day he was born.”

“I said I want to send him a pie!”

Roy’s eyes widened at her firm tone, and he looked questioningly at Rebecca.

Rebecca shrugged. “Assertiveness training,” she said, squeezing around him to enter the house.

“Oh,” he said. “Sure, send him a pie if it’s that important to you.”

Delaney nodded, feeling somewhat vindicated after that lousy questionnaire—and a little embarrassed about taking such a strong stand. “Beck, write him a quick welcome note for me,” she said, and dashed off to the garage for the last pie.

CONNER WAS GETTING A HEADACHE. Breaking only for dinner, he’d spent hours in the study, researching the cattle industry on the Internet and looking for other avenues of income, like mining or farming. But nothing he’d found seemed plausible for the Running Y. There wasn’t much silver or gold in the area. No molyndenum or industrial garnets or phosphate rock as there were in other parts of the state. And the rugged mountains made it too impractical to plant feed or other crops. Which meant Conner had to do something else. But what? He was running out of ideas.

Hoping for a revelation, he started visiting the Web sites of various cities in Idaho and bordering states, to gain familiarity with the area and make note of population, agriculture and industry. But after another hour of reading charts, graphs, maps and summaries, he sat back with a sigh and pressed his palms to his tired eyes.

You’re crazy to be doing this, a voice in his head taunted, taking advantage of the quiet room and creeping discouragement. If you think you’ll finally prove yourself worthy of the Armstrong name, you’re a fool. Nothing’s going save this place. And if you own it, if you take it into your heart and soul, you’ll walk away even emptier than when you came here.

“Shut up,” Conner said, teeth clenched.

But the voice merely laughed at him. Don’t risk it, man. Pack up and walk out. You know the routine. You’ve done it plenty of times before—

There was a knock at the office door. “Conner? You in there?”

Roy. Just what he needed—more quality time with his foreman.

“Come in,” he said, swiveling away from the computer.

The door opened and Roy strode in, boots thudding against the carpet. He carried a square white box, which he placed on the edge of Conner’s desk. “Gal from town sent ya somethin’.”

“What is it?” Conner asked.

“What’s it look like?” he said, and left.

Conner stood, pulled the box closer and read the attached note.

Welcome to Dundee. I sell pies for $8 every Sunday, but this is a free sample. Number 8 Second Street. Delaney Lawson.

Delaney! Conner stiffened when he read the name. Surely this woman couldn’t be the Delaney he’d met in Boise. That Delaney was from Jerome, which was nearly four hours away.

Crossing quickly to the door, Conner hollered down the hall and managed to catch Roy just before he headed outside, presumably to the small cabins beyond the barn.