Stranded With The Rancher

“You lucky dog. On a day like this, I’d give anything to go with you.”

“Tell Captain Durrant and hop in the truck.”

“Don’t I wish. How soon will you be back?”

“In a week.”

“Call me. We’ll watch some football and get a card game going with Holden.” Holden was the sheriff, and another single guy always up for a game of cards.

“That’s a plan.”

Their only plan. They lived in a town of just over 1,300 people. Without a woman on the horizon who suited any of them, none of them had much else taking up their spare time except work.

* * *

AT THE JACKSON HOLE airport on Thursday, Alex rented a car and headed for Whitebark, an hour and a half away. She would be leaving for New York day after tomorrow, but had a free day ahead of her now. It was only one in the afternoon. In the morning she’d drive back to Jackson Hole and stay at the hotel she’d already booked. They provided limo service to the airport.

After spending time in Colorado gathering information, she’d flown to Casper to attend the Wyoming Wool Growers Association conference. The people there had been helpful. She’d gathered a lot of useful information. One rancher had told her the best sheep person to interview in the Cowboy State was Royden Fielding.

He hadn’t been able to attend the conference. However, they had his phone number on file. She could call him.

Alex had done just that and had ended up speaking to his ranch foreman, Jose. When she told him why she was calling he said, “If you wish to talk to Mr. Fielding, it will have to be in person. He’s a little hard of hearing and doesn’t do well over the phone.”

“Oh, I see. Would he be available if I come later today?”

“Of course.”

Hmm. That was easy. “I’ll need directions to his ranch.” The man had accommodated her and they’d hung up. Then she’d booked her ticket to Jackson Hole.

She bought a hamburger in town. While she ate, she made a reservation at the Whitebark Hotel for the night, then headed southwest on Highway 191 beneath a cloudy sky. It had been beautiful weather up to today.

Alex had thought she’d never seen anything as magnificent as the Teton Range of mountains from the air until she found herself looking at the Wind River Range ahead of her.

She let out a gasp at the sight of peaks knifing into the rarified atmosphere amidst pockets of snow. According to the brochure she’d picked up, one of them, Gannett Peak, was over 13,000 feet. This was the sheep country the man in Casper had been telling her about?

Though she lived in New Jersey, she traveled quite a bit for her job and was stunned by what she was seeing. Whoever called this flyover country had never once come down to earth and put his or her foot on Wyoming soil or smelled such clean air. She inhaled deeply, appreciating the rugged, primitive beauty all around her.

When she reached Whitebark, she followed Jose’s directions to the Fielding Sheep Ranch. Alex drove to the front of the two-story ranch house and got out. To her surprise, an older woman walked out onto the front porch.

“Ms. Dorney?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Martha Loveridge, the housekeeper. Jose said to expect you. Come inside. Mr. Fielding is excited for a visitor.”

“Well, thank you. I’m thrilled he would allow me an interview.”

She picked up her briefcase and followed Martha inside the house to the living room. It had a cozy, warm feeling.

“Please sit down. I’ll tell him you’re here. He’s hard of hearing, so look at him when you speak.”

She nodded. Jose had said the same thing.

While she waited, Alex walked around looking at the framed pictures of different couples and children at different ages on horseback. There were rodeo and formally posed pictures, too, propped on the end tables.

She stopped when she came to the eight-by-ten colored photograph on the mantel. An impossibly gorgeous male, probably in his late twenties, was wearing a firefighter’s dress uniform. His luxuriant black hair and blue eyes stole her breath.

Who was he?

Chapter Two (#ub5d25701-51d2-5de8-8e29-2c11427b4fd5)

While Alex stared at the man in the picture, a little beagle came running in, sniffing at her.

“Oh...look at you.” She leaned over to pet him. “How cute.”

“Come back here, Otis,” a man’s voice sounded. She turned around to see who’d spoken. The housekeeper and a man with silver in his dark hair, probably in his seventies, had come into the room. He walked with a limp and used a cane.

“Martha? I thought you said Alex Dorney was out here.”

“This is Alex.” She smiled at Alex. “Meet Royden Fielding.”

The older man shook his head. “Whoever named you Alex was crazy. With that blond hair and the face of an angel, you’re the most beautiful sight ever to walk inside this house.”

His over-the-top compliment came as a total surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Fielding. My legal name is Alexis.”

“I still don’t like giving a man’s name to a woman. Where did you say you were from?”

“New Jersey.”

“Ah! That explains it. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

Alex smiled inside. She would love to know what that meant, but decided not to pursue it and did as he asked. The adorable dog lay at his feet.

“Jose told me you wanted to get some information from me. Why in blazes would a woman from New Jersey want to talk to me about sheep?”

She opened her briefcase and pulled out a recent issue of the magazine. Alex handed it to him. “I write for this publication.” She explained about wanting to stay ahead of national trends in the food business and what it meant for the economy. “The little research I’ve done tells me there’s a rise in the demand for lamb, which is unusual. I’m out here to find out why.”

“It’s about time,” he muttered.

Again she didn’t quite understand his meaning. “Go ahead and scan some of the articles.”

“I’ll read yours here on seafood consumption.” He spent ten minutes perusing it before looking up. “You really know what you’re about, don’t you? How come neither mutton nor lamb was even mentioned as a protein source?”

“I had to quote the information I was given from a graph quoting comparisons of meat and fish, but I’m puzzled, too. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here.”

“But I’m the wrong person to help you with the kind of information you need.”

“Why is that? The administration at the Wool Growers Association in Casper said you’re the person who has all the answers.”