3 #4
Eli gave a low whistle. “Depends how you count. Full-time staff, family, seasonal hands, medical folks, learning center people, aviation, breeding, farm, house staff, security when needed. Enough that Edye has charts.”
“She seems fond of charts.”
“Charts are how Edye says I love you to chaos.”
Talia smiled, then glanced back at the learning center as they passed.
It was becoming harder and harder to hold the ranch in her mind as a target.
That was inconvenient.
A target was clean.
A story was clean.
A powerful ranch family with land, money, influence, expansion, hidden tensions, and possible cracks beneath the pretty surface. That was the kind of thing a reporter could approach with sharp questions and a steady pulse.
But children’s drawings complicated things.
So did medical helicopters.
So did men who slowed down for passing ranch hands and shouted greetings by name.
So did a foreman who asked questions without making her feel hunted.
Eli guided the vehicle back toward the main house by a different route.
Talia saw more of the ranch that way. Fences.
Storage buildings. Workers unloading supplies.
A woman carrying a clipboard near a half-built cottage.
A man leading a horse toward the stables.
Two boys, probably ranch hands’ children, racing each other near a safe open patch of grass until someone hollered for them to slow down.
Eli waved at almost everyone.
“Earl! What are you doing?” he called toward an older man near the porch of a cottage.
The older man lifted a hand without turning fully. “Walking, what does it look like?”
Eli grinned. “See? That’s Earl. Retired farmer. Cody’s dad. Claims he’s just walking. Nobody believes him.”
“And the woman beside him?”
“Elise. Kitchen queen. Human lie detector. Approach with clean hands and respect.”
Elise stood near the cottage steps, talking to a younger woman while holding a covered dish. She looked toward the vehicle as they passed, eyes sharp enough to make Talia sit straighter.
Eli noticed and laughed.
“See? Instinct.”
“What?”
“You just fixed your posture.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
Talia smiled despite herself. “Maybe I respect authority.”
“Then you and Elise will get along fine.”
“Or clash.”
“Also possible. Elise respects a good clash if everybody eats afterward.”
The vehicle rolled toward the main house now.
The guest suites and pool came back into view, then the broad porch, the windows reflecting late-afternoon light. From this angle, the house seemed less like a mansion and more like the center of an ecosystem.
A very expensive ecosystem.
But still.
Everything connected to it.
Everyone seemed to orbit it, not because Luke demanded it, but because the ranch had grown outward from that home.
Talia’s stomach tightened.
By the time Eli parked near the drive, her notebook felt heavier in her bag.
She had come to Stanley Ranch expecting to charm, observe, and gather what she needed. She had expected wealth, ego, maybe secrets. She had expected Luke to be guarded, Edye to be polished, and the job to give her access.
She had not expected the scale.
She had not expected the warmth.
She had not expected to like anyone.
Especially not this much.
Eli cut the engine and looked at her. “So? Still breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That means the tour didn’t scare you off completely.”
Talia looked toward the guest suites, then the cottages under construction beyond them, then the medical chopper in the distance, the learning center, the roads leading toward Cody and Sierra’s growing operation.
“I’m not scared,” she said.
It was almost true.
Eli leaned back slightly, studying her. Not suspiciously. Curiously.
“No?”
She gave him her best professional smile. “It’s impressive.”
“That it is.”
“And bigger than I expected.”
“That too.”
“And complicated.”
Eli grinned. “Miss Roberts, if complicated bothers you, this ranch will eat you alive.”
Talia laughed lightly, but the words struck too close.
Because sitting there beside Eli, looking at the main house and everything spreading out from it, she had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that she may have bitten off more than she could chew.
Not because the ranch was too powerful.
Because it was too human.
And human stories had a way of changing the people who tried to use them.
Eli opened his door and stepped out. She followed.
As they walked back toward the house, he tipped his hat toward the windows. “Luke and Edye are probably waiting. Try not to look overwhelmed.”
“I don’t.”
“You do a little.”
She turned to him. “You are surprisingly honest for a charming man.”
“I find it keeps people confused.”
“It works.”
He laughed and opened the door for her.
Talia stepped back inside the main house, the cool air brushing her skin.
Behind her, Eli said, “For what it’s worth, I think you’d do fine here.”
Talia looked back.
His smile was easy again, but kind.
“You don’t know me,” she said.
“No,” he agreed. “But I know people who are trying to decide whether to run or stay. You’re still here.”
Her heart gave one hard, irritated beat.
“That’s your measure?”
“For now.”
He stepped past her toward Luke’s office, then glanced back. “Come on, Miss Roberts. Let’s see if phase three includes pie.”
Talia followed him down the hall, her smile carefully in place and her mind already working too fast.
She was still here.
That was true.
But for the first time since she had driven through the gates of Stanley Ranch, she wondered whether staying might cost her more than leaving.
After speaking with Luke and Edye again and receiving a slice of pie and coffee. They thanked her for driving up from Houston and told her she would hear from them in a day or two.
She walked to her car without looking back.
Not because she did not want to.
Because she wanted to too much.
Once inside, she closed the door and sat behind the wheel. Her hands rested in her lap. The folder lay on the passenger seat, heavier now than paper had any right to be.
It had gone well enough for her to get through the three phases Eli mentioned.
She should have felt victorious.
Instead, she could still hear Edye’s voice.
People have tried to use us before.
Talia started the car.
At the edge of the yard, a man crossed from the direction of the fence line carrying a saddle over one shoulder. His hat sat low, his shirt dusty, his stride tired but steady.
For half a second, he turned his head toward her car.
Talia knew him before her mind said the name.
Gordon Windgate.
The photograph on Martin’s computer had not done him justice.
He was younger than she expected, yes, but there was nothing soft or careless about him. He looked sun-browned, strong, and worn in a way that had nothing to do with age. His face held the same guarded stillness from the photo, but in person it had weight. Heat. Presence.
He did not smile.
He only looked at her. She felt like he was looking into her soul.
Then he shifted the saddle on his shoulder and kept walking.
Talia watched him in the rearview mirror longer than she should have.
Her assignment had just become real.
Not an image on a screen.