A Cowboy in Manhattan(3)

The outbuildings that housed the cowboys and staff necessary to run the big ranch were also kept in tip-top shape, from the cookhouse to the bunkhouses to the barns and sheds. The line shacks were all getting older, but they were still kept clean and in good repair.

“Danielle wants to talk to you,” his brother Caleb announced as he walked down the hallway from the kitchen at the back of the house, phone in hand.

“I don’t have anything more to add.”

Caleb frowned. “You can’t let fifteen million dollars just sit in a bank account.”

“You can always take it back,” Reed responded, squaring his shoulders. He still thought it was ridiculous that his brother had paid him for half the family’s ranch.

“Would you let me hand you half of Active Equipment for free?” Caleb referred to the company he’d spent the past ten years building in the Chicago area.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Same difference.” Caleb held out the phone. “Talk to her. She has some ideas.”

Danielle Marin was Caleb’s lawyer. Following the debacle of their late father’s will, she’d drafted the papers that switched ownership of the Terrell ranch from Caleb to Reed. Then she’d worked out the financial transaction where Caleb bought half of it back.

Reed wasn’t exactly grateful to her for helping to put him in his current financial position, but he had to admit, the woman seemed to know what she was doing.

He took the phone. “Hello?”

As usual, Danielle’s tone was crisp, no-nonsense. “Hi, Reed. I was wondering if you’d had a chance to look over the package I emailed to you yesterday?” Then her voice became muffled as she obviously spoke to someone at her end of the line in Chicago.

“Not yet,” he answered. He only opened his email about once a week. He didn’t have a lot of technically inclined friends. Most of the people he knew still called on a landline or simply stopped by the ranch when they had something to say.

She sighed into the receiver. “You’re losing both income and investment potential every day you wait.”

“You’ve pointed that out.”

“Can you give me some general parameters? Do you want to keep your investments in the country? Go international? Blue chips? Emerging markets?”

“I was thinking about buying a sports car,” he drawled, impatient with having to worry about the damn money. There were real problems requiring real solutions right here on the ranch.

Her voice instantly perked up. “So, you’re saying I should keep some ready cash for luxury purchases?”

“I was joking, Danielle. We don’t have paved roads in Lyndon Valley.”

“You could always drive it on the highway. What appeals to you? Lamborghini? Ferrari?”

“It was a joke.”

“Stop joking.”

It was Reed’s turn to sigh. “Fine. Keep the money in the country.” He at least knew he wanted that much.

“Right. So, maybe some blue chips? Or do you want to look at a percentage of a start-up? I can make some recommendations on sectors and states.”

Reed didn’t want to think about this right now. Quite frankly, all he wanted to do was to strip off his dusty clothes, take a hot shower, grill up a steak, and then picture Katrina’s deep blue eyes for a while before he drifted off to sleep.

“I’ll let you know,” he told Danielle.

“Soon?”

“Yeah. Sure. Soon. See you.” He handed the phone back to his brother.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Caleb pointed out as he put the phone back to his ear. Then his expression faltered. “No, not you, Danielle.”

Reed chuckled at his brother’s embarrassment, feeling better already.

He crossed through the living room, took the staircase to the second floor, took off his clothes and tossed them into the hamper before stepping into a steaming shower. As he rubbed in the spice-scented shampoo, he realized his hair was getting too long. He supposed he could find a few more reasons to make the drive into Lyndon and get it cut while he was there, or he could buzz it short with his razor again. Though the last time he’d done that, Mandy had laughed at him for days.

Thoughts of Mandy took him to thoughts of Katrina. He switched the water to cold, finishing off with a brisk rinse before stepping out of the deep tub.

He changed into clean jeans and pulled a worn gray T-shirt over his head, running his fingers through his damp hair. He left his feet bare, padding down to the kitchen. The barbecue was out back on the deck, overlooking a bend in the Lyndon River. But it was a warm May day, and shoes were definitely not necessary.