Rancher's Law

Chapter Six

Eb Scott’s green eyes laughed as he grinned at Amelia. “Oh, yes, I remember you. I’ve never seen anybody hit a bull’s-eye dead center the way you do. Except him.” He jerked his thumb at Cal. “Never misses.” He just shook his head.

“I’d rather blow up stuff, though,” she replied, laughing.

“If you get good at blowing up stuff, you may be asked to hire on one day soon,” he told her.

She laughed, too. “I’d be delighted!” she said, and meant it. “But first I have to learn some more deadly recipes.”

“You go to college?” Eb asked.

She nodded. “I’m a sophomore. Well, I’m in a degree program that I graduate from at the end of the year. Then I have to decide if I want to go the whole way to a BS in science or settle for an AS.”

“Big decision,” Eb agreed. “But you’re young.”

“Not so much,” she laughed.

“Young,” Cal said firmly and grinned at her.

“Come along and I’ll give you the grand tour,” Eb said as he led the way into the compound. “I’ve just added defensive driving for chauffeurs. Our courses are growing by leaps and bounds. So is our student population. I’d like to be with you guys in Africa,” Eb added with a glance at Cal. “Maybe in a couple of weeks, if I can settle things here and get a competent manager on the place.”

“You’d be welcome,” Cal replied. “The more, the merrier, in this case.”

“In any case,” the older man replied somberly.

He took them through all the classes, although he didn’t interrupt the instructors. Some of his teachers had been in elite forces. There was even a retired SAS guy teaching sniper tactics.

“We draw from all over the planet,” Eb said as they continued over to the huge martial arts complex. “A good deal of ex-military can’t settle. So teaching keeps them close to the action without risking the success of an incursion by adding them to it. You slow down as you age and collect battle wounds.” He grimaced. “I’m carrying a few extra grams in my carcass from bullets the surgeons couldn’t remove.”

That was something Amelia hadn’t considered—that modern men got shot and the bullets had to stay in them.

“They say that Doc Holliday had a lot of them in him that they didn’t take out, back in the late 1800s,” she remarked.

“Absolutely true,” Eb agreed. “They had no antibiotics back in the day. Any surgeon probing for a bullet could cause a fatal infection. Bullets ricochet on bone. Sometimes they travel in unpredicted ways, depending on the caliber of the gun, the velocity of the bullet and the distance from the victim.”

Amelia was hanging on every word. “Wow,” she said.

Eb chuckled. “I should give you a place in my operation. You just soak up knowledge. And you know a lot already,” he pointed out.

“She’s going to finish college and teach other people how to blow up stuff,” Cal said firmly. “Ask her granddad.”

Amelia made a face. “I guess so,” she agreed. “He’d never approve of me going off to war, no matter how much I’d like to.”

Eb stopped and turned to look down at her. “War is hell, Sherman said, and he’s right. Until you’ve been in a battle where you lose favorite comrades and have bullets flying right at you, you have no idea what war actually is.” His eyes were dull and sad. “Every man has to learn that the hard way.”

Cal hadn’t, yet. His stint overseas in the military had been mostly mop-up operations, not front-line stuff. He just smiled. “I’m sure we all cope in different ways,” he said.

“Oh, we cope.” Eb sighed. “To a point. Let’s find you a free mat.”

Amelia learned to fall. She groaned and glared at Cal after the tenth back breakfall.

“When am I going to learn tae kwon do?” she asked with a little heat. “All I’m learning is how to fall down!”

“Falling down the right way is what will spare you many injuries,” Cal told her with a smile. “This is always taught first.”

She groaned again. “Okay,” she said. “Maybe if a guy comes at me with a gun, I can just fall on him and win the fight.”

“You’d need to gain a lot of weight first,” he chuckled. “Okay. Side breakfalls...”

She sighed and followed his instructions.

From side breakfalls, on both sides, they progressed to front breakfalls. But she couldn’t do it. She just stared down at the mat and then at Cal with misery written all over her flushed features, her blond hair wisping around her sweaty face as it threatened to escape the tight bun high on her head.

“It’s too far down,” she wailed. “I’ll break my nose!”

“And it’s such a pretty nose, too,” he teased, tapping it with his finger. “That’s why you do this,” and he demonstrated falling to land squarely on his forearms, slapping the mat just before the impact.

“I’ll break my nose,” she repeated.

“No. You won’t. Come on. Give it a try.”

She hesitated. She glanced around her at the other students in various stages of training. Several of them were also doing breakfalls.

She took a deep breath, leaned forward and fell. She slapped the mat and landed on her forearms, her nose inches from the mat. She burst out laughing. “Hey, that’s not hard at all!” she said breathlessly as Cal reached down and pulled her up in front of him.

“Nice fall,” he said softly, pushing back the wisps of hair from her face. His dark eyes were quiet and curious as he studied her. She was game. She complained, but never meant it. She was fun to be around. She made him laugh. He hardly ever had, until she came into his life.

“Thanks,” she whispered huskily, lost in his eyes, trembling inside with raging emotions that she could only barely control.

He came back to himself almost immediately and stepped back. “Okay, now that you know how,” he said, and grinned, “back to it!”

She made a face at him, but she obliged.

Before they left the camp, Eb took them out to the shooting range.

He handed Amelia a .45 Ruger Vaquero double-action revolver, loaded, but with the cylinder pushed out. “Do your worst,” he invited, indicating a man-shaped target in front of them on the range.

“Wow,” she whispered. “I love this thing! It’s like being in the last century, fighting outlaws!” She glanced at Cal. “I know, you prefer your .38, and I like shooting it. But I’ve never shot one of these!”

“Pretend the target is a highwayman and give him hell,” Cal told her.

She laughed. She slapped the cylinder back in, aimed and sent six shots right dead center into the target without hesitation.

“Damn!” Eb exploded. “That pistol is heavy, too!”

“Double damn!” Cal seconded. “How did you do that?”

“I really don’t know,” she said simply. “It seems so easy to me, even with unfamiliar guns.” She grinned at her companions. “This one is super!” she added, admiring it.

“If you ever want a job,” Eb said, “you’ve got one here. I’d hire you in a minute to teach or to go on missions...”

“Never,” Cal said firmly, and glared at her, because she was already caught up in the excitement and eager. “It’s no life for a woman. And I’d bet real money that you’ve never had a woman on the place, as far as instruction goes.”

“That’s true,” Eb admitted. “But then, I’ve never seen anybody do what Amelia just did,” he continued. “Or what she did last time she was here, on this same range with the .32. Except you,” he added, as he glanced at Cal. “Well, maybe you slipped once. But, almost never.”

“What does he mean?” she asked Cal.

“I shoot a hundred times, I hit the bull’s-eye a hundred times,” Cal said simply. “Except this one time when, for God knows what reason, a bee landed on my nose when I fired.”

“True story,” Eb seconded. “Damnedest thing, I didn’t know we had a bee on the place. Turns out, there was a whole hive of them in the wall of one of my outbuildings. We got a beekeeper to come over with a smoker and a hive. He found the queen, put her in the hive, all the workers followed, and he took the hive home with him.” He laughed. “The fringe benefit is that I get a jar of honey whenever I want one. I love honey.”

“I do, too, but I’m not a fan of bees on the shooting range,” Cal replied.

“No kidding?” Eb just chuckled.

“I would love to work for Eb Scott,” Amelia said on the way home. “That place of his is out of this world!”

“When you get through school, go talk to him,” he counseled. “But your granddad will probably have something to say about it.”

She sighed. “I think I can bring him around,” she said. “I had fun!”

“I did, too,” he replied with a warm smile. “You’re good company, Amelia,” he added quietly.

“Thanks. So are you,” she replied softly.

He checked his watch. He’d agreed to take Edie to a concert she wanted to see in San Antonio.

“I’m keeping you from something,” she said in an apologetic tone.

“Just a concert,” he said. “But I’ve got plenty of time to get there.”

“Okay, then.” She smiled, but inside she was feeling abandoned. She’d have bet that his concert was being attended by another woman also. Probably that fancy city woman who’d been loitering around his yard sometime back. But she had no strings on Cal, who was determined to retain his freedom. She brightened a little. If he felt like that, then his fancy woman wouldn’t have strings on him, either. It made her feel better. And, after all, she was young. She could wait for any happiness that might come her way.

Cal felt a strange surge of relief that she wasn’t jealous. She must suspect that he had a date. But on the heels of that sensation came one of vague disappointment. It disturbed him that she wasn’t bothered. He sighed inwardly. He was overthinking this. They were friends. He’d told her already that he had no plans to involve himself in a relationship. If she’d taken him at his word, and she seemed to, then she had no need to be jealous. He felt vindicated. He smiled to himself. Of course she wasn’t jealous.

He glanced at her and smiled. She smiled back. Then she knew she’d done the right thing, by not reacting. She didn’t dare let him know how she really felt. It would drive him away. That was the last thing she wanted.

He left her at her door.

“Thanks,” she said, grinning up at him from a face surrounded by disheveled hair. “It was great fun!”

He chuckled, trying to imagine Edie in her place. The woman was always immaculate when they went out together. Involving herself in martial arts was the last thing Edie would have done. But Amelia loved it.

“Martial arts and blowing up things and guns.” He shook his head. “I’d never have believed it when I first met you.”

“I look like a wimp?” she asked with mock horror.

He laughed. “No. But you seemed so sedate and unflappable,” he explained. “I didn’t think you had a wild streak.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called?” she asked, amused.

“There’s probably a better name for it,” he replied. He brushed back strands of her golden hair. “You’re pretty good on the mat.”

She was trembling inside at the proximity and doing her best not to let it show. “Good at falling?” she asked, and rolled her eyes. “When I tell Granddaddy that I’ve spent the day falling on my face, he’ll laugh himself to death!”

“No, he won’t,” he promised. “Don’t forget. Fernando’s tomorrow night.” He gave her a long look. “Wear a dress,” he added.

Her eyebrows shot up.

“So I’m sexist,” he replied with a long sigh. “I just love the way women look in dresses, especially when we dance something as elegant as the tango.”

“I’ll find something appropriate, then,” she teased.

He smiled. “Okay. I’ll pick you up about six. We’ll have dinner first.”

“That sounds nice.”

“They have great food. But the dancing’s not bad, either. See you later.”

“Okay. Thanks again.”

“My pleasure,” he said, and meant it. She was unique. He’d never known anyone quite like her.

She went inside. Her grandfather looked up from his news program. “Good Lord,” he said. “Have you been caught in a car wash?”

She glared at him. “I’ve been falling. Just falling. I did nothing but fall for two hours!”

“Breakfalls,” he said, nodding.

“Front breakfalls,” she added.

He chuckled. “I tried to get your grandmother to do one of those. She ran out the back door and hid until I promised to stop hounding her about it.”

She grinned. “Smart woman. Oh, and when I got through falling, Cal took me out to Mr. Scott’s firing range and Mr. Scott handed me a .45 Ruger Vaquero!”

“Wow,” he said softly. “That’s one fine pistol.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Did you shoot well?”

“Six shots, all dead center,” she replied.

He sighed and smiled. “You always were a natural with a gun. Well, with a pistol,” he added. “But a .45 is a lot heavier than that .38 Cal carries.”

“It didn’t feel much different,” she said. She smiled. “I wish I had one,” she sighed.

“I offered to let you use my .12 gauge. It’s heavy.”

She glared at him. “It weighs more than I do, and it kicks like a mule. I’ll shoot my .28 gauge, thanks very much.”

“The .12 gauge is better. But you won’t touch it.”

She shifted. “I could shoot it if I wanted to,” she protested.

“If you could learn how to pull the trigger on it,” he retorted. “The stock is specially padded to cushion the recoil. But even with that .28 gauge, I never could get you to actually hit the damned skeet targets.”

“I did try,” she apologized. “Several times. It’s hard for normal people to hit something going sixty miles an hour,” she added. “Skeet targets are too fast.”

“Well, we all have things we can’t do. Speaking of which, I couldn’t talk Valeria out of coming next week,” he added miserably. “But she’ll only be here for two days.”

“Only two days. Gosh. I wish I had an appointment out of town,” she muttered.

“It won’t be so bad,” he tried to encourage her.

“She’ll start complaining when she walks in the door,” she replied. “The temperature will be too cold. Her bed won’t be made right. The food will be too greasy or too sweet or too something. And then she’ll complain that the carpet isn’t clean enough.”

“I’m truly sorry that I couldn’t head her off,” he said gently.

“Maybe if she’d ever married, she’d have mellowed,” she grumbled. “Honestly, though, I can’t imagine a man brave enough to put a ring on her finger. Of course, she’d be putting one through his nose at the same time...!”

“Now, Amelia, she is your only surviving great-aunt,” he reminded her.

“And your only sibling,” she said, nodding. “I’m sorry. It’s just...”

He smiled. “She’s a pain in the butt. Yes. I know. But she’s family, so we’ll both grit our teeth and pretend we’re glad to see her.”

“If I can pull that off, I’ll be ready to sign up for theater at school,” she sighed.

“I know,” he teased. “You’re no good at getting up in front of people.”

“True. I’d rather blow things up.” Her eyes gleamed and she grinned. “I’m going to have a quick shower, then I’ll start supper. How about a burger with homemade fries?”

“Delicious!”

“Coming right up, after I’ve cleaned up,” she said.

“Might invite Cal to help us eat it,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “He’s got a date,” she said, and smiled to let him know she didn’t mind. “I’ll be down in a jiffy!”

He watched her go with quiet, loving eyes, and when she was out of sight, he grimaced. She was smitten with their neighbor, who was far too worldly for a girl of her years—a green girl, at that. He hoped she wouldn’t get her heart broken, but he had no control over that. All he could do was stand and watch and pick up the pieces, if her crush ended badly.

He knew men like Cal. They didn’t settle down and raise kids. They were the sort of people who hacked a living out of the wilderness or sailed wooden ships across the sea to fight in wars, or founded settlements in dangerous places. They were adventurers, explorers, warriors.

Amelia wouldn’t understand that, because she was a homebody. Despite her interests, she had no idea what such a life would actually be like. And she was too soft to adapt to it. So Cal would go on with his lifestyle and Amelia would end in tears, because there was no way she could cope with loving a man like that, a man who would live for adventure and immerse himself in it, regardless of the danger.

Edie was dressed like a debutante. She was wearing a sexy black cocktail dress with lacy inserts, spiky high heels and a shimmering wrap that accentuated her pretty complexion and short, dark hair. She looked good. Really good.

“Thanks for offering to take me,” she said as they got into his car. “I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks!”

“What’s playing tonight?” he asked.

“It’s Mozart.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “It was Debussy, but they changed it.”

He managed not to react. He was fond of Debussy and Respighi and Dvorak. He hated Mozart with a passion. But he smiled at her. “That sounds good,” he lied.

“How was Africa?” she asked idly.

“Ngawa. Dangerous,” he replied.

“You’re making a lot of money, though.”

“Tons,” he said easily. “Most of it, I’ve invested. Even in a low market, my investment counselor is making me money.”

She sighed. “I’ve lost most of mine because I trusted a business manager who ran off with it. More fool, me.”

“Sorry about that.”

“I’ve still got some assets from what my father left me,” she replied. Actually, she didn’t, but she didn’t want Cal to think she was stalking him for the fortune he’d already made signing on to fight in a foreign war. But that was what she was doing. Oh, he was handsome, and personable. That was dressing on top. His value was in his holdings. She was going broke, and she couldn’t support her habit. If she could land him, she’d be on easy street. No more money worries.

“How’s your little friend?” she asked suddenly. “The one who blows up stuff.”

“Amelia?” He laughed. “I had her doing breakfalls all afternoon.”

“Breakfalls!” She made a mock shiver.

“Then I took her out to the pistol range. She hit the bull’s-eye six times in a row. With a .45 wheel gun.”

“I hate guns,” she muttered.

“They’re my stock in trade,” he reminded her.

“Nasty things. They make too much noise.” She dismissed them. “The conductor is a friend of mine,” she changed the subject. “He’s friends with the mayor, so he got me an introduction. I know lots of important people in the city now,” she purred.

He didn’t know a single one, and he wasn’t impressed. Why was she such a social climber? he wondered. But he didn’t question her, because he really didn’t care. She started talking about the program and he just listened.

They sat through the program with Cal growing more restless by the minute. When it finally ended, he was out of his seat with visible haste, escorting Edie out of the auditorium.

“Honestly, do we have to hurry so much?” she complained. “The president of the city’s biggest bank was in the row behind us. I wanted to talk to him.”

“You have money there?” he asked idly.

“No, but it’s a good idea to speak to important people.”

He stopped and looked down at her. “Why?” he asked with honest curiosity.

She gaped at him. “Because it’s how you move up in elite society,” she said, exasperated. “It gets you privileges.”

“Why do you need them?” he persisted.

She drew in a loud sigh. “Honestly, Cal, you’re such a dolt sometimes!”

He just grinned and led her to the car.

She hesitated at her front door and went close to him. “Don’t you want to come in for a while and have a few drinks?” she purred.

“Not really, thanks,” he said. “I’m tired, and I have to be up early tomorrow for a conference.”

“You always have an excuse,” she muttered as she moved away.

He just stared at her. “It’s my life. I don’t answer to anyone. Ever.”

It was pleasantly spoken, but firm.

She grimaced. “Okay. I get it. Nothing interferes with the mission.”

“Exactly,” he returned.

“I’ll see you again before you go back?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he replied.

She smiled. “All right, then. Take care.”

“You, too.”

He walked to the car and drove away. He didn’t look back. Not once.

Edie saw that and cursed and cursed. She picked up a vase and started to throw it when she realized its value. She put it back down, gingerly. No sense in costing herself money over a man who refused to get serious.

But he liked her, and he kept coming around. So she wasn’t giving up. She had plenty of time.

When the big day came, Amelia was all thumbs getting ready for her night on the town with Cal. She’d only been on dates a handful of times, and never with a man she was crazy about. She had on her best dress. It wasn’t really fancy, just a white off-the-shoulder Mexican-style dress, but when she paired it with white high heels and a lacy white mantilla and her mother’s pearls, she looked elegant enough. Especially with her hair down, clean and gleaming pale gold in the halo of the overhead lights.

“Will I do?” she asked her grandfather.

He looked up from his paper and his eyes grew misty. He smiled. “You’re the image of your grandmother. I swear you look just like her.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I was worried that I wouldn’t look elegant enough.”

“You’ll do,” he said. “It’s not a gala affair. You’re going to Fernando’s. Yes, it’s high-class, but most people who turn up there on Friday nights wear jeans and boots,” he chuckled.

She grinned at him. “I was going to, but Cal said you just can’t dance a tango in jeans.”

“He’s probably right. You have a good time.”

“I hope so,” she said.

Cal was right on time. He wasn’t overdressed, either, although he had on beige slacks with a yellow polo shirt and a stylish jacket. He looked handsome.

“Nice,” he said, eyeing Amelia.

“She looks like her grandmother,” Harris chuckled. “I used to take her dancing, but that was back in the dark ages.”

“Can you do a tango?” Cal asked him.

“Not to save my own life,” came the dry reply. “So you two go up to San Antonio and wow the crowds. I’ll stay here with the dragon drama.”

“The new season doesn’t start tonight, does it?” Cal asked, because he was a fan, too.

“Last season. I bought it on Amazon,” he said with twinkling eyes. “The whole season, so I can watch it whenever I like.”

“That’s one way to do it. I love the show.”

“Me, too. You two have fun.”

“We will,” Amelia promised him.

“So will I. Joy before grief,” he groaned.

“What was that about?” Cal asked her when they were on the highway.

“Great-Aunt Valeria,” she muttered. “She’s descending on her broomstick next week to visit for two horrible days. We’ll go mad!”

“Is she that bad?”

“Worse,” she glowered.

“Only two days, though,” he said sympathetically.

“When she leaves, I’ll be running through town howling like a wolf with sheer glee. And Granddaddy will probably set off fireworks.”

“The things I miss, not having relatives.” He shook his head.

“Nobody at all?” she asked gently.

He didn’t reply. He was remembering things. Terrible things.

“They have flan at Fernando’s,” she interrupted his thoughts with a lilt in her voice, to distract him. “Right?”

“What? Oh. Yes, they do. The best flan in town.”

“I didn’t eat lunch,” she said. “So I’d have room for it!”

He laughed. “Well!”

“I can make a flan,” she added. “But I’m not good enough to compete with the kitchen staff at Fernando’s. Their food is just out of this world.”

“I think so, too. I used to hang out there every Friday night when I was on the police force.”

“You were a policeman?” she exclaimed.

He laughed. “Yes, I was. For three years. Then I heard about the group Eb was forming. I’d grown restless. I wanted a change, a chance to make money, an adventure.” He smiled. “It’s been that, all right.”

“Adventure is dangerous.”

“Which makes it enticing,” he replied, and wiggled his eyebrows.

She laughed at the twinkle in his eyes. “Is that it?” she teased.

“You like blowing up things. I like going to foreign places and helping change the world.”

“Now I feel like a slacker,” she said with a grin.

“Not you,” he replied easily. He sighed. “I relax when I’m with you. It’s a new feeling. I like it.”

She wondered if it was a compliment. You relaxed with people who were familiar, who didn’t excite you or challenge you.

“Thanks. I think?”

He chuckled. “It’s a compliment. I’m not good with people,” he added solemnly. “I don’t...fit.”

She sighed. “Me, neither.”

He glanced at her and smiled. “Well, you stick with me, kid. We’ll hold off the world.”

“That’s a deal!”