Slow Hand (Hot Cowboy Nights, #1)(8)

“I’ve already called the airline,” she replied, “but why the police? It wasn’t stolen.”

“Should anyone get their hands on your credit cards and ID, you’ll want to have a report on file for fraud prevention. You should also alert the credit reporting companies.”

“Thanks.” She offered a grateful smile. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“My office in Virginia City is on the way to Sheridan. You can use the phone there while I get showered and changed.”

“You have a shower at your office?” she asked with a hint of longing.

“And a pullout sofa. I’ve been known to crash there. At one time, more often than I preferred,” he added dryly.

Was that a look of regret? “Are you a workaholic?” she asked.

“Something like that,” he hedged. “You’re welcome to the office, the shower, and the pullout, at least until we get things sorted.”

“Thank you. That’s generous…but where will you stay?” she asked warily.

“I’ve no shortage of options. I’ve got a place in Bozeman where I live most of the time. On my few court days in Virginia City, I crash at the office if I don’t feel like driving, and most weekends I spend at the family spread outside Twin Bridges.”

“Spread? You mean a ranch?”

“Yeah. My family has had a working cattle outfit since the Civil War. It was a profitable operation for four generations, but the past decade it’s been more like a sinkhole. I’ve been trying to persuade them to sell out, but my obstinate brother is convinced he can save things.”

“How?” she asked.

“Thinks he can create a superior cattle breed. Ever heard of Wagyu cattle or Kobe beef?”

“No, but that doesn’t say much, I don’t know jack about cattle.”

“Wagyu cattle come from Japan. Kobe is one of these Japanese varieties and is the most highly prized beef in the world—goes for up to fifty dollars an ounce at the better steak houses.”

“Over five hundred bucks for a T-bone? Holy cow!” Nikki exclaimed.

“No, that would be India,” Wade corrected with a grin.

“So what does this have to do with your ranch?” Nikki asked.

“Dirk seems to think breeding a hybrid Wagyu-Angus herd is the answer to all our troubles.”

“Why? What’s the big difference between the Japanese and American cattle that they command such a high price?”

“Dirk could go on ad nauseam about it, but suffice it to say there’s a difference in the composition of the meat, mainly in its marbling, that makes it more tender and gives it a different taste. There are a handful of ranches in the U.S. producing what they call American Kobe by crossing the Japanese breed with our own cattle. Dirk has jumped on that bandwagon.”

“Sounds like a great opportunity,” Nikki remarked. “So why are you opposed to the idea?”

“Because it could take years to establish a herd, and there’s no guarantee of the payoff. Maybe the market is hot now, but all that could change. I’m not willing to forfeit my entire future for something so chancy. My brother sees that as disloyalty. He accuses me of lying down without a fight, but I just see things differently. I don’t believe ranching is viable anymore, but my brother’s as bullheaded as his damned stock.” His gaze appeared focused on the horizon and his hands looked tight on the wheel. “’Sides, I always wanted to do something else with my life. Maybe leave something behind besides my blood, sweat, and tears in the ground.”

“But you’re still here.”

“Yeah. I’ve stuck around. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”

“If you feel so strongly why do you stay?”

“I dunno. Wish I did.” He shrugged. “Probably obligation mixed with guilt.”

“But you resent it?” she suggested.

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I want to live my own life. I’m damned tired of playing second fiddle to big brother.”

“I find it really hard to imagine you playing second to anyone.”

“Why thank you, ma’am. That sounded damned near complimentary.”

She wished he’d stop flashing that irresistible crooked grin. “Regardless of your differing opinions, it still sounds like you hold your brother in pretty high regard.”

“Does it?” he asked.

“Yeah. It does.”

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Maybe I do,” he confessed. “But Dirk’s always been a tough act to follow. He won a full rodeo scholarship to the Ag College at MSU. Won overall Champion at the collegiate rodeo finals and could have gone on to pro rodeo but joined the Marines instead. He did two tours and lost half his right leg.”

“Wow. I can’t even imagine what that must be like.” Nikki shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he added dryly. “Dirk’s sorry enough for all of us. And his disability hasn’t slowed him down much.”

“Really?” she remarked in surprise. “What does he do now?”

“He runs the ranch.”

“By himself?”

“Not completely. The ol’ man does what he can and I still help out when hands are short.”