A Measure Of Love

“Come in.”

Jessie took a deep breath and opened it. Rafe sat at a desk, ledgers surrounding him. There was a blue glint to his black hair, and a few strands dipped over his furrowed brow. His light blue cowboy shirt emphasized the richness of his eyes as he lifted his head and held her captive in his stare.

“Am I interrupting?”

“No. As a matter of fact,” Rafe said, leaning back in the creaking leather chair, “I can use a break. Come on in.”

Disregarding a leather couch near the wall, she chose a wing chair near the desk. Sitting down, she stated, “I need to discuss the BLM problem with you.”

Rafe placed his hands behind his head. He was having a tough time not staring like a gawking teenager. Her hair lay like a golden cape around her shoulders, thick and shining, begging to be tamed. “Okay. Looks like problems are the order of the night.”

Jessie glanced at his desk. “Bill-paying time?” she guessed.

“Twice a month. Twice too often.”

“I’m just beginning to realize what it takes to run a ranch,” she admitted. “Millie started telling me about some of the problems you have, and how you have to juggle your loans and bills.”

He nodded. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Anyway, let’s talk about this mustang thing. When Allen came here, he accused me of shooting them. It was the first I had heard of it.”

“Our office received an anonymous phone call, Rafe. The caller said you were shooting mustangs that had drifted down off the federal land that’s connected to your property.”

“Who was the caller?” Rafe demanded, his eyes glittering dangerously. His body had tensed with barely checked anger, and he leaned forward on his elbows.

“We don’t know. He wouldn’t give his name.”

“What proof did he offer to you that I was supposedly doing the shooting?”

“None.”

His nostrils flared. “Pretty flimsy evidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, I would.” Jessie shrugged. “Allen should have made a study, gone up into the area in question and investigated. Mustangs usually stay on the lower plains during winter and migrate to the mountain areas only during the summer, for grass. The snowfall was lighter this year, so it made the mountain valleys available to them earlier than normal. The horses may have come off the Red Desert area of Wyoming because food was sparse.”

“So do you think the call was a hoax?”

“I don’t know. Let me ask you this–is there a local rancher who has an ax to grind with you?”

The smile on his lips didn’t quite reach his eyes. “One. Bryce Darley. He’s been wanting to buy a thousand acres of my land that sits next to his. He’s expanding his beef operation and wants my grazing area for his herd. I won’t sell it to him because that’s where I run our cattle every summer. Darley’s an Easterner come West with big corporations backing his efforts. I guess he thinks that with financial acumen, running a beef herd can turn into a gold mine of sorts.” Rafe snorted softly and shook his head. “I was born and raised on this ranch and I’ve seen a lot of ups and downs in the beef business in thirty-five years. With the price of grain skyrocketing, you’re never going to make big money. Hell, you’re lucky just to get into the black every few years.”