Fateful Waters Page 8

  Sam delighted in telling Cutter the tale of what had happened prior to his arrival. Both men had a new appreciation for the Rocking R’s little blond bookkeeper.

  The following morning, after filling the hay feeders, Cutter returned to have breakfast with Lexie. He found her eating a blueberry muffin, and washing it down with a tall glass of orange juice. He helped himself to a muffin to go with his third mug of coffee. “Good morning, Lex. Are you feeling better this morning?”

  “I’m feeling fine. Just out in the heat of the day a little too long. I guess I’m not used to it yet.”

  He handed her the invoice from the hay delivery, and fifteen dollars in cash. “One is for bookkeeping; the cash is what you paid for the busted bale. It was included in the invoice count. What were you going to do if he drove off with the load?”

  “He wasn’t going to drive off, and he’d already OK’d the terms I laid out before you arrived and he padded it.”

  “How did you know he’d padded the deal?”

  “Mel calls it my creepy sixth sense. It is nothing I can explain. But if I was wrong and he drove off with your cattle feed, I would have been poking out numbers until my fingers were numb to replace the loss quickly.”

  He reached for another muffin. “Can you really get good hay delivered for half the price?”

  “I’ve negotiated a delivery of five hundred bale of a timothy alfalfa mix for next week at ten dollars a bale, fuel cost included.”

  He grinned the same way he did when he visited her in the hospital. “Horse hay?”

  “The horses have to eat, too. But if you lose your cattle feed supplier because of me, we could probably get some cheaper, year-old, or rained-on hay for the cows. They have a much better digestive system than horses. I have a couple of ideas that might interest you if you can give me a couple of hours soon.”

  “Is after dinner soon enough?” She was a constant surprise. He never would have thought that she had any knowledge of hay, or knew the difference between the digestive system of cows and horses.

  She just nodded to his after dinner suggestion, and watched him pick up two more muffins on his way out.

  Lexie entered the previous day’s hay invoice a couple of hours later. That brought her up to date from the time that Cutter took over the bookkeeping and payroll duties. Her next chore was to convert the past ten years of transactions from the books of Bob Henson to the computer program. That task should be a lot easier than sorting through Cutter’s shoe box system, and the neat accounting style should be a lot easier than her employer’s hurried sometimes illegible scrawl. She would begin work on that tomorrow. She only had a couple of hours to put her research together in a methodical, cohesive presentation.

  She was as prepared as she could be, considering her limited knowledge of Cutter’s personal finances. It was stifling— another one hundred degree plus day. She really didn’t know how Cutter and the others could work all day in the sweltering sun. She had hoped to check out the horses by now, but the excessive heat drained her energy level, and she often found she needed a nap in the middle of the day.

  She decided a shower was called for. Lexie really appreciated her blue-green room. Cutter was so correct when he first escorted her here and stated this was the coolest part of the house. She made a conscious effort to take a quick shower and conserve every precious drop of water. She had come up with a plan to ensure a supply of good hay, but a magician she was not, so the lack of water remained the biggest threat to both horses and cattle.

  Fresh, cooling air caressed her exposed arms and legs, and her bare toes curled in the wet sand while the waves broke around her ankles. She laughed at the antics of her puppy playing tag with the gently breaking waves. The lake was calm today, but she had witnessed Lake Erie’s fury sending waves over the top of the break walls, crashing to the upper reaches of giant lighthouses, and flooding out the lakeshore highways. The vision of the vast body of water disappeared to be replaced by the sounds of a gentle summer rain. It didn’t last long. It left as quickly as it had come. Someone called her name, and reality crashed in; it had only been a dream.

  Lexie rolled onto her back and gazed at the ceiling fan creating the cool breeze. “Funny, I don’t remember turning on the fan.” She’d just been thinking out loud, and nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke.

  “That’s because I turned it on before I showered. Are you ready for dinner?”

  “I’ll be right down as soon as I change.”

  “You look fine. We aren’t dress-for-dinner types around here.”

  “At least I need to brush my hair and find a pair of shoes.”

  It didn’t look like he was in a hurry to go on ahead of her. He just slouched against the doorframe, crossing his powerful arms over his broad chest. Lexie was enjoying the view a little too much. He is your employer, and you set the rules. No inappropriate advances, Alexandra she reminded her errant thoughts. She sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and placed her feet on the cool floor. She could feel the intensity of his gaze as she made the short trip to the dressing table. Uncomfortable with his continuing, intense scrutiny, she made quick work of brushing out her hair. She opted for banding it back into a ponytail instead of the usual more time-consuming braid. The short ankle socks she’d placed on the smooth lacquered surface before she had laid down, taking her brief trip back home, were on in a flash. Just as quickly, she stuffed her feet into a well-worn pair of running shoes. Lexie was looking forward to the rest of her things arriving; she’d packed light for what was supposed to be a short vacation.

  Lexie walked beside him down the hall to the dining room. Breakfast and lunch were always kitchen table fare, but dinner was in the formal dining room. The fact that it was across the hall from her bookkeeping digs was convenient on the days when time got away from her. Usually, Cutter and Jim were already seated when she arrived, so she was unprepared for his Galahad routine of pulling out her chair to seat her. Her utter surprise must have been obvious; Jim was chuckling at the unfolding scene. There was an extra place setting tonight. Sam occasionally joined them for dinner, and it usually hampered her appetite. He always looked at her like she was going to sprout horns and whip out a pitchfork.

  Maria was busy serving the meal. At home, everyone pitched in with setting the table, cooking meals, and cleanup after, so Lexie made the error of offering to help. She was very politely told that Maria held the job of cook and housekeeper, and Lexie got paid to straighten out the books. Things were sure different around here.

  Maria and her husband seemed like a mismatch to Lexie, Jim was tall, only a few inches shy of Cutter’s towering six foot four, but he was slim of build. Jim’s thick hair was a couple of shades lighter than his wife’s raven locks, and had a distinct auburn cast. It wasn’t their physical difference—side-by-side they were a perfect ten—Jim’s blue eyes radiated his good humor and overall friendly disposition.

  She set her glass of tea down and listened closely to the conversation between Cutter and Sam. He had just asked his horse operation manager how his hay was holding up.

  “I have enough for another ten days.”

  Cutter turned to Lexie. “Can we count on the delivery next week Lex or should I find backup?”

  “If Mr. Williams says he’ll be here, you can count on it. But if you are really that short, it could be a problem. If your horses are on a really different hay, Sam will probably want to transition them slowly to the new stuff.”

  The conversation stalled when Maria brought in a platter of one-inch thick steaks. Lexie made a conscious effort to keep from groaning out loud. She opted for the Spanish rice—a staple at the Rocking R— some salad, and hard rolls that were an unusual treat. Maria refilled everyone’s drinks before taking her seat at the table.

  Cutter picked up the thread of the conversation. “Any chance of an earlier delivery?”

  “I doubt it. They are still cutting some fields. Yours is already being loaded and covered with a tarp
to make room for the freshly cut bales. Given the heat here, we figured already cured hay would be a safer bet. Even back home we have occasional barn fires from too tightly packed fresh hay. But they need to cut and bail the fields before the next rain, or lose it. There are a large number of clients that come and load up in the fields, or take the filled hay wagons home, unload, and return the wagons minimizing what they need to store. That will be the last of the first cutting, and it will give them several weeks before they have to cut again.”

  Jim whistled between his teeth. “How many cuttings do those hay farmers up in Yankee Land get?”

  “I only know about our area. In a good year three cuttings during the growing season, but a bad year maybe two.”

  Between all the Q and A’s, she’d been working on her plate. She’d just been transported to heaven. “Maria, the rolls are wonderful! Did you make them?”

  “No Señorita, it is too hot to bake. I bought them at a new bakery in Lubbock this morning.”

  “Thank you! I just experienced my second trip back home today.”

  Cutter decided to see what all the fuss was about; they looked like any hard roll that would be served at a fine restaurant. “She is right, Maria. These are great.” He took another bite and smiled at Maria in appreciation. The rolls are almost as good as the blueberry muffins you made before you went to town.”

  “I didn’t make any muffins, Cutter. You are in the hot sun too much.”

  Trying to look innocent, Lexie picked up the hay discussion. Maria was already looking at her suspiciously. “Sam, would you show me what forage you’re currently feeding? We may not have a problem at all.”

  “Sure, right after dessert.”

  Lexie looked for direction from Cutter. The hay excursion would delay their scheduled meeting. He just nodded his approval, speared another steak, and buttered another roll. The man sure could eat. The decision to wait for Wilson to arrive was made. The forage was a reasonably fresh timothy and orchard grass import, so the transition should go smoothly.

  Their scheduled meeting convened approximately an hour late. It didn’t begin the way she’d anticipated. The first question out of his mouth had zero to do with the scheduled agenda.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you made the muffins?”

  “I had no idea that you were going to blab about it, or I would have told you. I didn’t at the time because you looked like you were enjoying them, and I didn’t want to ruin your appetite. You’ve been avoiding me like I had the plague or something, and were not likely to welcome the information. Now, can we get down to the reason for this little get-together?”

  He moved his large chair from the front side of the desk, placing it near to where she was seated. His close proximity was distracting, and causing physical stirrings she was finding hard to squelch.

  “I think this would go a lot smoother if you were seated on the opposite side of the desk.”

  “This is fine. Proceed.”

  She tried to get her raging hormones under control, and put her business persona back in place. “Mr. Wilson and his sons will continue to supply the Rocking R with hay, foregoing sales to hay dealers, if you are happy with the quality of his hay.”

  “Why is he willing to haul it so far at that kind of price?”

  “He is suffering with the economy like everyone else. A large part of the hay market is the backyard horse owners who are now selling or giving away their animals. Unlike here, horses can graze on good pasture for five to six months, but come winter, hay—and usually grain too—is a must. If the operation is only a couple of acres, then the purchased feed and bedding can get expensive. In addition to losing a portion of his local market, he is losing part of his leased land. Family farmers and city farmers that lease out land are either being foreclosed on or selling out.

  Those trying to stay afloat are planting other more profitable crops.”

  “How long can he supply us with hay?”

  “He estimates a full year if you can handle it. Otherwise, he will have to sell much of it to hay dealers. He will guarantee the price for this season unless there is a huge jump in fuel prices. He is hoping to purchase some of the acreage he has been leasing, if his profits are substantial enough. ”

  “Give Williams a call. Invite him to lay over here for a day. If his hay is as good as you say, I’ll put up another hay storage barn, and take whatever he can sell me.”

  “Okay, I’ll call him when we finish here. He should be in by then. I don’t know how to put this delicately, so here goes. Can the Rocking R budget hold up to this? I noticed occasional transfers marked as personal funds, and more of those transfers within the last year.”

  “Just what are you getting at, Lex?’

  “Normally, I don’t ask questions about an employer’s net worth.”

  “But in my case you are willing to make an exception?”

  “Look, Cutter, I’m not interested in whether or not you are a cowboy millionaire—well, I am, but not for the reason you think—some of the biggest jerks I know are filthy rich.” He was scowling at her now, and his gray eyes had lost their humor and turned to ice. “Hear me out before you decide I’m some kind of a gold-digger.”

  He didn’t say a word, but moved his chair to the front of the desk as she had requested earlier, assessed her with his cold gaze, and in an equally cold voice ordered her to proceed.

  “Okay, we’ll deal in the hypothetical. If you can, without restricting cash flow, afford to invest in land, we can have an unlimited source of hay. The Rocking R, or you could buy up some of the land that Williams is in danger of losing, and lease it back to him, or share crop it out.”

  “Do you expect me to buy land sight unseen?”

  “That would make you the biggest idiot in Texas. Just forget it, Cutter. I’ve spent enough time on this today. We’re finished here. You can leave now. I’ll call Mr. Williams and extend your layover invitation. Then I’m out of here.”

  His temper was straining at frayed tethers; the little witch all but called him stupid, and just ended the conversation. “Did you just dismiss me, Miss Parker?”

  “Damn right, Mr. Ross. You can stay, leave, fire me now, or let me finish up inputting Mr. Henson’s books.”

  “How about a glass of tea? Maybe it will cool you off. Personally, I need something stronger.”

  Lexie watched him exit the room, made an effort to regain her composure, and then connected with the Williamses. Bill Jr. answered.

  Cutter was on his way back in to the office when he overheard her tell someone that there was not any need to bother her mom with gathering her things, or convincing someone named Skip that he wanted to make the long trip. She was finished with the job here, and would be returning home with them. When he heard her end the conversation he entered, and handed her a tall cool glass. He then proceeded to the bar, poured a couple of fingers of a much stronger brew in a tumbler, returned, and settled into the chair opposite her. She wrote down a couple of numbers on a Post-it.

  “Here are Bill Williams Sr.’s home and cell numbers. I spoke with Bill Jr., and extended your invitation. His dad was not home. I left your cell number with him. The rest is up to you. I will be working on the books until they arrive. If you can tear yourself away from your other demands, I’ll show you how to operate the bookkeeping program.”

  “Are you planning on going somewhere?”

  “Yes.”

  That was as far as she got before the landline rang, and she handed off the call to him. By the time he finished with his previous hay dealer, Lexie had departed for the other end of the house. Neither of them was in a frame of mind to negotiate tonight. He would give them both time to cool off, and made the decision to let the subject go until morning. They had a contract that he intended to hold her to.

  10

  Lexie’s morning didn’t start any better than the previous night had ended. After a fitful night, she was in no mood for Maria’s snide remarks. She’d shoved a congealed plat
e of slop in front of Lexie while sarcastically apologizing for not having time to make muffins that morning. Lexie got up made a large glass of tea and told Maria where she could stick her breakfast. A cool drink in hand she closeted her rising temper behind the office doors.

  Maria didn’t like the way that the little bookkeeper talked to Cutter. In her view, it was

  downright disrespectful to talk that way to the owner of the ranch, and the girl’s employer. The longtime cook knew Cutter would have fired anyone else that behaved in a like manner. He was obviously infatuated with the little blond, and could not see past her pretty face. She decided to make things unpleasant for the younger woman. Maybe she would just pack up and go back to where she had come from.

  Some of the entries in Bob’s ledgers didn’t make sense to Lexie, but she ignored them and copied them as entered. She would not question anything around here again. Hopefully, she could tough it out for the next six days. Focused on the job at hand, lunch slipped by. Early afternoon the musical tones of her phone interrupted. Great! The call was from Mel’s father with a dinner offer, and he was sending Booker to pick her up at six. Well, at least she could have dinner with people who actually liked her, and didn’t think she was after their money. She worked another hour before backing it up, and calling it a day. She went to freshen up, apply some makeup, and change in to her hunter outfit.

  It was ten to six when she exited onto the front porch, successfully avoiding those in the dining room, or so she thought. Booker was punctual as usual, but she ran smack into Cutter and Sam on their way to the house for the evening meal. Booker exited the big rented Lincoln, and came around to open the passenger side door for her. “Nice to see you, Lexie. You look great! I heard that you had been ill.”