Authors: Monica Barrie
Silken Threads (22 page)
Ranching was hard and for a woman even harder. Few women were able to cope with the enormous demands of running a ranch, and those who could were usually harder than the men who worked for them. Heather Strand did not seem to fit into that mold. Reid
heard the determination in her voice and saw it echoed on her face as she turned back to face him.
“I can understand your feelings, Miss Strand.”
“I don’t think so... But, if you do come to work here, you will. Shall we go to the house and have some coffee while we talk?”
“After you,” Reid responded.
“Polaris!” Heather called. The shepherd came from the stool and went to Heather. A quick scratch under his ear was his reward as Heather began to walk.
Reid watched Heather walk with smooth, confident steps, but he also saw that the dog kept his side pressed against her right leg. As they came out into the daylight, Reid came alongside Heather. Squinting his eyes against the harshness of the sun, Reid looked into Heather Strand’s face. Her eyes were still fully open. She was not squinting against the powerful noonday sun. With a sudden shock Reid understood why her voice had sounded challenging.
“It must be difficult,” he said, ineffectually trying to hide the sadness he felt.
Heather stopped as if struck. She turned sideways to face him and her mouth turned into a hard line. “You’re about to lose the job before you get it,” she told him.
“No, ma’am. You need me more than I realized.”
“I need no one who pities me.”
“I don’t know you well enough to pity you,” he informed her in a stiff formal voice.
“Good. Shall we continue?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You may call me Heather. Everyone on the ranch does.”
“Ask away, Miss Heather,” Reid said to her. Before they could continue, they reached the rear entrance of the house. Reid held the door open and then followed Heather and Polaris inside.
“Have a seat at the table, Mr. Hunter. I’ll have the coffee ready in a few minutes.” As Reid sat at the wooden table, he watched Heather prepare the percolator. As she did, she continued to speak. “I’ve gone over your resume. You have a good work background and seem to be what I’m looking for. But there’s one question bothering me.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why didn’t you wait for me to contact you after I’d received your resume?”
“Because I didn’t want to wait in line,” Reid responded truthfully. “There aren’t very many jobs like this one available.”
“I admire your initiative. How did you find out who placed the ad?” Reid told her of his ploy and listened as she laughed at his ingenuity. Then: “Why did you leave the Triple-K?”
“Kimball and I had a falling out. He owned the ranch and I left.” Heather listened to every word he said, her senses alert to every nuance of his answer. Because of her blindness, Heather’s other senses had developed keenly. She knew there was more to his answer, but also knew what he said was true.
“If I decide to hire you, we can go into that a little further.” Then, after pouring two cups of coffee, Heather interviewed Reid Hunter in earnest. She asked question after question, learning everything she could about this man, and when she was satisfied, she stopped.
“I can’t give you an answer today, but if you’d like to
look around the ranch and see for yourself what we have, I’ll have one of the men take you around.”
“That would be fine,” Reid said. Ten minutes later Reid was astride a roan gelding. He listened to what Tom Farley had to say and drank in every aspect of the ranch.
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