The Rancher's Request

“I tried, Mr. Gilbert, but Mr. Sanchez practically booted me off the ranch. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t want any such stories in the paper about his family. And frankly, sir, I think you’d have a lawsuit on your hands if you did print anything containing the legend of the buried money or the old man’s murder.” Juliet tried to reason with her boss.

It was Monday morning, two days after the Sandbur wedding, and the editor of the Fannin Review was pacing around Juliet’s small office like a man possessed. He wasn’t happy about her failure to dig up personal information on the ranch’s old matriarch and the money she’d supposedly buried to keep from her husband. But then David Gilbert was never happy. Heading toward his sixtieth birthday, he was a frail man with thinning brown hair and a perpetual frown. He’d taken over the reins of the weekly newspaper from his father, who’d died unexpectedly only a few short weeks after he’d retired. From what Juliet could see, he was a man who privately wished he were anywhere but at his job.

“Let him try. Just because that family is probably the richest in Goliad County doesn’t mean he can keep the press from public information.”

Dear Lord, the man sounded as if he was running some newspaper on Capitol Hill in Washington, instead of a weekly review of small town Texas life, Juliet thought.

Sitting comfortably behind her desk, she tried not to groan out loud with disbelief. “I’m not sure his family’s money is public information, Mr. Gilbert. They just might take you to task.”

The older man stopped to toss a challenging look her way. “Just let them. I’ll be ready. In the meantime, I want you to see what else you can find about the matter. Dig through our old archives, I’m sure there will be something on Nate Ketchum’s death. Look through some of the neighboring papers, too. The murder had to have been big news back then.”

Any other time, Juliet would have been excited to be working on such a story: love, marriage, money, murder and one of the richest families in the area. Readers loved such things. But in spite of her squaring off with Matt, she’d come away from Raine Ketchum’s marriage with the impression that the Saddler and Sanchez families, co-owners of the Sandbur, were nice, genuine people. She didn’t want to hurt or anger any of them.

“I’m not sure—”

“You’d better be sure, Madsen. Our distribution numbers have been down this last quarter. We need something to grab people’s attention. So I’m giving you two weeks to get something together on this.”

“Two weeks!”

Her outcry had him walking over to her desk to stare menacingly down at her. “You don’t sound too eager about this, Madsen.”

Eager? The whole idea was making her ill. Maybe if this puny little man had to face Matt Sanchez head-on, then he wouldn’t be so quick to bark. “Well, I’m just not sure that it’s the right thing to do.”

His eyebrows shot up as though he couldn’t believe she was defying him. “Look, Madsen, you’re frankly overqualified for this job. I don’t need to pay you a journalist’s salary when I could get by with anyone with enough education to structure good sentences. If you don’t want to earn your paycheck, then you’d better head on back to the Dallas Morning News.”

And face Michael again? Never, Juliet thought. The man had been a cheating lout. He’d broken her heart. She couldn’t work in the same room with him. And she couldn’t go back and let him tempt her back into his arms. He was no good. Just like the boyfriend she’d had before him. The two guys were a big reason she’d taken this small-time job in an out-of-the-way little town. She wanted to forget all her horrid affairs of the heart.

Glancing away so that he couldn’t guess that her teeth were grinding together, she said, “I can do the job, Mr. Gilbert. I’ll have something on your desk in two weeks.”

“Good. I’ll be watching for it.”

The editor abruptly left the room and once he was out of sight, Juliet got up and firmly shut the door behind him. Damn man, she silently cursed, he knew as much about running a newspaper as she did about changing the oil in her car, which was practically nothing. The only reason he owned the paper was because he’d been an only child and his father had no one else to leave the business to. Too bad the old man hadn’t sold it, Juliet thought grimly.

Well, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t pick up her belongings and move to some other town and some other job, she told herself. But she didn’t want to. These past few months she’d been making friends and settling into a neat little house that she loved. The people were friendly—except for Matt Sanchez—and she liked the slower movement of the small town after rushing around in Dallas all her life. Besides, there was no one who was giving her a reason to live elsewhere. Her father was still in Dallas, but she got more warmth from a stranger on the street than she did from him. Her mother’s relatives were scattered throughout the northern states, but she rarely saw or spoke to them. No, she was more or less on her own and she had a right to live where she wanted. And damn Gilbert for threatening her.

Picking up her notes on the Sandbur wedding, Juliet tried to push the whole male race from her mind as she went to work at her computer.

Three hours later, when she broke for lunch, the social piece was finished, all but a few final touches, and she left the building to walk to her favorite restaurant.

The Cattle Call Café was only three blocks away. The red brick building had been built back in the eighteen sixties and was located on the main drag. On the days the livestock auction was being held on the outskirts of town, the café was always jammed with ranchers who’d come to buy or sell cattle and horses. Today the long room, filled with round wooden tables, was only moderately busy with regular townsfolk.

Juliet chose to sit at a wooden bar running along the left side of the room. Almost before her seat hit the red vinyl stool, a young woman with long brown hair and a wide smile waved to her from behind the counter.

“Hi, Juliet! I’ll be right with you.”

Angie Duncan was a single mother working her way through college. Her shift at the Cattle Call started at eleven in the morning and ended at six in the evening. Juliet didn’t know how the woman managed to stay on her feet, much less have a cheery disposition, as well.

“So how’s my best friend today?” Angie asked as she approached Juliet.

With a lukewarm smile, Juliet said, “Okay, I suppose.”

Angie made a sound of disapproval with her tongue. “Where’s that smile I always see on your face? You look like you’ve just lost your best friend. And that can’t be true, ’cause I’m here,” she teased.

Juliet tried to laugh, but the sound was garbled. “I’m fine, really, Angie. I just had a long weekend and I’d like to bang an iron skillet over my boss’s head.”

Laughing quietly, Angie pulled out her order pad. “Okay, tell me what you want for lunch and then you can tell me the rest.”

“I’d really like a big greasy cheeseburger with piles of onion rings and a vanilla shake,” Juliet told her wryly.

Grinning, Angie tapped a pencil thoughtfully against her chin. “But you’re actually going to eat a salad with unsweetened iced tea, right?”

Juliet sighed. “Yeah. Make it a grilled chicken salad.”

The waitress left to take the order to the kitchen. While she was gone, Juliet glanced around the café. Other than herself, there were only five people: two older couples and a young man drinking coffee and scanning the daily newspaper out of Victoria.

For some reason Juliet suddenly wondered if Matt Sanchez ever came to town and ate in this café. Probably not. He was from the rich set and the Cattle Call catered to the middle and lower classes of the area. Well, that was all right with her. She didn’t want to rub elbows with his sort. And she wished to heck she could quit thinking about the man. But ever since the man had kissed her, she couldn’t seem to get her mind back in its regular groove.

The swinging doors to the kitchen swished open and Juliet turned her head to see Angie returning with a tall glass of iced tea. She set it in front of Juliet, then pushed a small container with packets of sweetener toward her.

As Juliet emptied the fake sugar into the tea and stirred, the waitress propped her upper body on the counter.

“Okay. What’s the matter with old Gilbert boy? Been chasing you around the office?”

Juliet groaned. “Lord no! The man doesn’t have enough testosterone in his body for those kinds of impulses. I doubt he sleeps in the same bed with his wife.”

Angie giggled. “Lucky her.”

Juliet took a long sip from her glass. “He wants me to do a story that I don’t want to do. And when I more or less told him that I didn’t want to do it, he threatened to fire me.”

“That’s terrible. What sort of story?”

“Something personal about a family around here. He thinks it would grab readers. I think it would cause more trouble than it would be worth.”

Thankfully, Angie was prudent enough not to press her for details on the subject. Instead, she asked, “So how did the wedding go? A big deal, huh?”

Sighing heavily, Juliet nodded. “Very big. The house was overflowing with flowers. Real ones. There was live music, lots of food, champagne and dancing. I’ve never seen so many diamonds and minks in my life.”

With her chin resting on her palm, a wistful expression stole over the waitress’s face. “Gosh, can you imagine that kind of wedding? That sort of life is a fairy tale to me.”

Juliet let out a dry laugh. “Me, too.”

Angie waved a dismissive hand at her. “Don’t give me that. You’re gorgeous. It wouldn’t be any problem for you to get a rich man. That is, if you wanted one,” she added coyly.

Rolling her eyes, Juliet said, “Well, I’ve had plenty of trials and errors. I don’t want one.”

“Juliet! You—”

The waitress was going to say more but the bell at the pickup window rang and she went to fetch Juliet’s order. When she returned with the salad, Juliet asked in a casual voice, “Angie, do you know any of the Sanchezes or Saddlers?”