Temporarily Texan

“Why, thank you.”

He took a small bite, chewed, swallowed. Raven watched his jaw and throat move, watched the way the eggs slipped past his well-sculpted lips. She’d never thought eating scrambled eggs could be sexy, but apparently Troy Crawford accomplished that task with little effort.

“Not bad. The goat cheese is a little strong.”

“It has a different flavor to cow’s-milk cheese.”

“Hmm,” he replied, taking a bite of toast. He chewed, swallowed again, then said, “This is pretty tasty.”

“If you eat eggs, milk products, nuts and beans, you can get enough protein.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a vegetarian commercial.”

“It’s what I believe.”

“And I believe that ranching is an important industry in this state. In this country, for that matter.”

“There are other, better uses for land. Some studies show that production of cattle consumes more resources than it generates.”

“You can always find a study to support any theory.”

“Doesn’t it bother you at all?”

“No.”

“But what about those calves? They’re just babies—”

“I knew it! You’re trying to save them.”

She took in a deep breath and brought her chin up. “I’ll save any animal that I can.”

He walked over to the old percolator, refilled his coffee and raised his mug to her. “I’ll consider myself warned.” With that, he started to walk out of the kitchen.

“What are you doing now?”

“I’m going to finish my toast in peace, then e-mail my brother in Afghanistan that instead of the cattle expert he wanted, we’re housing an animal-rights activist who intends to save his cattle from their cruel fate.”

“I’m not an animal-rights activist! I’m a farmer who happens to love animals for something other than food.”

“Right. That will make Cal feel so much better.”

She didn’t want to irritate Troy’s brother while he was away serving in the military, even if he was a cattle rancher in civilian life. “Perhaps you shouldn’t make your brother feel as if his ranch is being taken over by PETA.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And believe me, you’re not taking over.”

He was right, Raven admitted to herself as he strode into the office and shut the door. She was simply a guest until she found out where she was supposed to be or until Troy Crawford got tired of her opinions and tossed her out. Either way, she’d better come up with a plan.

AFTER USING TROY’S PHONE to call home and check on her animals, Raven took a shower, dressed in a calico skirt and peasant blouse, laced up her canvas sandals and drove into town. Pickles puttered along the two-lane road with predictable coughing on some of the turns. After driving just long enough to wonder if she was lost, Raven came across the town-limits sign, and then in another minute or so, Brody’s Crossing itself. She slowed down to the thirty-mile-an-hour speed limit as she passed a few run-down businesses and small homes, then a neat brick police station. She stopped on the corner at a flashing red light, right next to a bank that looked as if it could have been robbed by Bonnie and Clyde. On the other corners were a drugstore, a café and the town offices.

She drove around the two blocks that made up the downtown, seeing some thriving businesses, such as the beauty shop and café, and some that had obviously been vacant for a long time, like a dress shop and a furniture store. And, near the train tracks, a boarded-up hotel that at one time had probably been very nice.

She drove past some tidy frame houses with gardens out front and picket fences defining the sides and backyards. Then the houses became fewer and the yards bigger, until she was once again in the country. Only a few mobile homes dotted the landscape now, and as Raven pulled off the road to turn around, she had to admit that finding a place to stay in Brody’s Crossing wasn’t going to be easy. If she was staying in town, which she wouldn’t know until she talked to the heritage garden society.

The guest room at the Crawford ranch wasn’t luxurious, but it was available. And free. And there was one perk that couldn’t be duplicated even if she found a room for rent—Troy Crawford’s very distracting body.

TROY STILL DIDN’T HAVE A reply from Cal, so he shut down the computer and leaned back in the desk chair. His brother must be out on patrol or whatever they did during the day now. He tried not to think about how risky life could be in Afghanistan or he’d fret all the time about Cal, who really hadn’t expected to be called up or to be put in danger.

And Troy also had to worry about Raven, at least for a few more days. He didn’t believe she’d do anything to sabotage the herd, but he knew she wanted to “save” them. Couldn’t she understand that those Herefords were bred to be beef cattle and nothing else? That they were well treated, fed, wormed, and kept safe inside those fences that needed constant maintenance?

No, apparently she couldn’t. And he didn’t know how to get her off her soapbox about animal rights. All he wanted to do was look after this hopelessly antiquated ranch for his brother. Cal needed to have a place to come home to, not an eviction notice from the bank.

And Troy needed to know that he’d been the one to salvage the family ranch. Him. Not his father or his brother, but him. And if that was self-serving or arrogant or whatever, he’d just live with it. The old tried-and-true ranching practices were out of date. Maybe the association sending the wrong person was a sign that the time to act was now.

He pushed up from the chair. He’d been out riding fence in the one-hundred-degree heat. He stank and his butt hurt and he’d give one of his aching body parts for a thick, juicy steak and a baked potato. Which brought his thoughts back to his reluctant lodger. Where was she?

He looked in the guest room, kitchen and living room before searching outside. She was probably in the barn, knitting sweaters for the “poor little babies.” If she got attached to those calves, he was going to…well, he didn’t know what he’d do, but he sure as heck wasn’t going to hold her and let her cry all over him when he’d warned her specifically not to get involved. Vulnerable baby animals could break your heart if you let them. She needed to toughen up, but he doubted she ever would.

On a hunch, before trekking to the barn, he checked the front of the house where she’d parked her Yankeemobile. Sure enough, it wasn’t there. However, her canvas tote bag and clothes were still in the bedroom, so she hadn’t left. Good. She was just out running errands or something. Lecturing someone else on the evils of eating meat, no doubt. Winning friends and influencing people. Yep, that was Raven York.

While she was gone and the place was quiet, he took a much-needed shower and shaved, which he did every day whether he was going someplace or not. He had nothing against the scruffy look, although he couldn’t stand the feel of stubble. He hoped Raven wouldn’t think he’d cleaned up just for her. Giving her the wrong impression wouldn’t be good for either of them, especially since she was only here for a few days.

He heard her close the back door just as he was checking his e-mail again. Still no reply from Cal. Maybe by tonight, which would be morning over there. Again he shut down the computer and went looking for Raven. He found her in the kitchen, rearranging things in the refrigerator.

“I wondered if you’d like to go into town to get a bite to eat in a little while,” he asked. “I was kind of hard on you at breakfast, and well, you might find something you’d enjoy on the menu at the local café.”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be nice to get away from the ranch for a while. You know, have dinner. Nothing more. No ulterior motive except to say I’m sorry for being rude. I’m not a morning person by nature and getting up before dawn is a stretch for me. Since I moved back to the ranch, I never had to get up early and be polite at the same time.”

“I’m sorry my presence is so disruptive. I tried to find someplace else to stay, but you were right. There’s nowhere. Believe me, I looked.”

“You want to leave that bad?”

“Well, I know I’m not what you were expecting. I’m sure if the heritage garden people phoned you’d let me know, no matter where I was staying. And I get on your nerves, as you’ve pointed out. I’m not shy about my beliefs.”

“Yeah, I got that.” He ran a hand around his neck. “Look, the truth is, since you arrived, things have been a lot more…interesting. Sometimes it gets kind of boring out here. You might irritate me occasionally, but you’re not boring.”

“Well, thank you very much, I think.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re welcome. So can we go to dinner? About five o’clock? The café closes early.”

“TROY CRAWFORD! HOW THE heck are you, son?” the booming cowboy asked as he squeezed Troy’s shoulder. They were sitting in one of the booths that lined each long wall of the café. Front windows faced Commerce Street, and the order desk and window to the kitchen made up the fourth side at the very back. Raven had hoped that the café wouldn’t be busy this time of day, but a surprising number of people were here for dinner.

“I’m fine, Bud. How are you?”

“Couldn’t be better, unless beef prices go up and gas prices go down.” The older man chuckled and looked at Raven. “I see you’ve got someone new in town.”

“Raven York, this is Bud Hammer. He’s a rancher.”