What We Find (Sullivan's Crossing, #1)(76)

Who was that husband going to be? It was not going to be Andrew; that relationship was far behind her. But was there any way to convince California Jones he’d be happy with her? She had the slightly paranoid fear she was a placeholder and that he hadn’t yet decided what his life would look like in the future.

As she drove into the campground, she came upon the strangest sight. There were people on the porch of the store, the porch of the house, and several were sitting in cars. And Stan’s big SUV police cruiser was parked between a huge bull and the store. There were a couple of turned-over picnic tables, a collapsed tent and a healthy dent in the police cruiser.

“Maggie, stay in the car!” Stan’s voice boomed over his loudspeaker.

There, in the grassy area between the store and the campsites, the bull was grazing lazily. But it was very clear that before he settled down to lunch, he’d scared everyone half to death.

She looked at the ceiling of her car. “When I said all, I wasn’t counting on this!”





Come forth into the light of things,

let nature be your teacher.





—William Wordsworth





Chapter 15



Colorado was an open-range state. That meant the cattle roamed where they would, though ranchers took some measures to keep their herds segregated. The lake and the campgrounds and homes around the lake were surrounded by cattle ranches and grazing land. The entire valley was cattle land with a little silage farming for feed. If you didn’t want cows in your yard you had to fence yourself in, and that included public roads, lands and parks. Though it wasn’t a daily issue, there were times a piece of fence was down and cattle wandered onto the roads and highways, into parks and yards.

Ranchers usually kept closer tabs on their bulls, especially if they were a little testy, as this one was.

Maggie spied Cal on the porch and gave him a sheepish wave. He waved back.

She put her car in gear and oh-so-gently inched her way around the store to the rear entrance. Cal stepped out of the store onto the back porch and signaled to her that it was safe to get out of her car and come inside.

“Better stay indoors. You’re not dressed to try to outrun that bull,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her into the store.

“Where’s Sully?”

“Trying to keep everyone back. And don’t surprise him—he’s got the shotgun out.”

A little laugh escaped her. “What’s he going to do with a shotgun besides piss him off?”

“We’ve had that discussion. He said not to worry, that Stan has the big gun, but he’s not convinced Stan’s a better shot.”

“Lovely. Maybe they’ll have a shoot-out,” she said. She walked toward the front of the store, which was full of women and children. But the men and a couple of young women, it seemed, just couldn’t resist the porch. “Hi, Sully. That the Mitchells’ bull?”

“Yeah, and they’re taking their sweet goddamn time coming after him. I’m going to send them a bill. That goddamn bull had himself a party.”

“I thought that might be Cornelius. Anybody hurt?” she asked.

“Scraped knee or two. I think we’re all okay. Bet some folks’ll never trust this campground again.”

“Others will think it’s the best entertainment they’ve had,” Maggie said. And right then and there she decided. I’m going to stay here, raise my family here.

“Here she comes, about time,” Sully said. “I ought to load that bull with buckshot just for good measure. Can’t she keep an eye on her bull?”

“Watch this, Cal,” Maggie said. “You’re going to love it. When the truck and trailer pull in and park, get some of the kids up front to watch them wrangle Cornelius.”

A well-used truck, a big dually pulling a roomy trailer, pulled up alongside the bull. The driver, a young guy in a cowboy hat, gave them a wave. The passenger door on the other side opened and a young girl in tight jeans, boots and hat with long blond hair running in a braid down her back, came around the truck with a lead and a big harness. She stood for a minute in front of the bull, a hand on one hip, staring him down. The bull pawed at the ground twice and snorted meanly.

“Don’t start with me,” the girl said. She approached the big animal. He backed away. “Corny! That’s enough!”

The young man jumped out of the truck and opened up the trailer, putting down the ramp.

The bull stood still. He put his head down and the girl shook hers.

She attached the lead to a huge harness. “Come on, Corny. You’re in trouble.”

She led the enormous bull to the trailer. The bull went slowly. Calmly. When he was inside the girl jumped out and helped the young man close up the trailer. He ran to the driver’s side of the truck. He waved at Sully. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” he yelled. Then they pulled slowly away from the campground.

“What the—” Cal stuttered.

“She raised him from a calf,” Sully said. “Some nights she slept in the barn with him. His mother didn’t make it and Casey fed him from a bottle. She and a couple of the Mitchells can seem to manage him, but no one else. Don’t get the idea he’s safe—he’s a big, ornery bull. But he’s fathered half the herd and he takes orders from Casey Mitchell. She got a blue ribbon for him.”