Tucker's Crossing (7 page)

Cody scanned the crowd and sighed. Ms. Luella wasn’t there, even though he’d made it clear that every ranch employee was to be present. Not that he was surprised the stubborn housekeeper had decided she’d face him when she was good and ready. It just meant that he’d have to talk to her one-on-one. Not something he was looking forward to.

“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. As y’all know, my brothers and I recently inherited Tucker’s Crossing. That said, the ranch has been operating in the red the past couple years, so until we can rectify that situation and start turning a profit, we’ll be making some changes.”

Grumblings, some concerned, most offensive, shot up from the men. Man, he hated doing this. Most of these men were good cowboys, had families counting on them.

But then, so did he.

“The only way to deal with this is based on history. Would those of you who came on after my brothers and I left Tucker’s Crossing please take a step forward.”

More protests sounded about fairness and work ethic, most bookended by cursing. One by one, the new guys took a hesitant step forward, their faces expressing exactly what they thought of the selection process. The older guys, the ones with years of dedication to the ranch and job seniority, wore smug looks of satisfaction.

Cursing himself for not wearing a hat, Cody shielded his eyes from the sun. There in the rear of the crowd, hiding behind a tractor, was a halo of silver and black that could only belong to one Ms. Luella Puckett. She had positioned herself strategically so she could snoop on every word said, but go unseen by most people there.

Suppressing the urge to shout out “Howdy” and watch Ms. Luella scramble, Cody eyed all of the unfamiliar faces standing in the front row and gave them a brief nod. “It’s nice to meet you all. My name’s Cody and I want to welcome you to stay on here. The rest of you, in the back row, you’re dismissed.” Ignoring the stunned gasps and confused faces, Cody added, “You can pick up your final checks tonight.”

“This some kind of joke, son?” said Hal, a guy Cody used to help pack hay when he was a kid. Obviously, he thought there was some kind of misunderstanding.

“No joke, Hal. Like I said, you’re all dismissed and can pick up your checks on your way out. I want you gone by nightfall.”

“Wait just a minute,” Sam Holden barked.

Sam, coppered and weathered with a wiry silver scruff and sandpaper hands, had been the ranch foreman since Cody had been, as Ms. Luella told it, “knee high to a barn dog.” Sam had taught him to rope, showed up to his high school graduation when his dad had drunk himself stupid, even wrote him a letter of recommendation for his first job.

As a kid, Cody had looked up to the man in awe. But as an adult, he couldn’t help but see a coward whose job meant more than protecting an innocent kid.

“I’ve been on here since before your dad took over. Put my whole life into this ranch,” Sam said.

“Me too,” Jessup Walt, another old buck, agreed, taking a step forward. Despite the lines caused from years of working the land, his eyes were sharp, threatening.

“Never said you didn’t. But the decision’s been made, gentlemen.” With a respectful tip of the head, Cody turned to give instructions to the hands left.

Sam, having other ideas on Cody’s stance, grabbed his arm, stopping his forward movement. Instinctively, Cody spun. His body was tense but he held tight to his control.

“Your daddy would be ashamed of what’s gone on here today. You’re letting go of some good men.”

“Reckon I am.” Cody looked down at Sam’s hand gripping his forearm. A warning flashed in his eye, letting Sam know Cody was no longer
that
kid.

Quick to get the message, Sam let go and took a step back. “Your daddy’s rolling in his grave right now.”

“Good.”

“One day, boy,” Sam snarled, kicking up dust as he headed across the field, “you’ll regret this.”

“If anyone else has issue with how I’m running things, please let me know. If not, saddle up. Tommy,” Cody addressed the man who he’d learned had worked under Sam for the past few years and had the most experience, “I need you to move the herd from the east-valley holding area to the pasture west of the foothills. And make sure there’s plenty of water.”

“You got it, boss,” Tommy said, but Cody didn’t miss the anger under his words or the look he sent Sam.

Cody turned and headed for the house, heart heavy.

He had known most of these men when they were young, newlyweds or proud papas who called Cody “son.” But he also knew these men when they turned their heads, went on working or hoeing or plowing when Cody stumbled out of his house, nose bloodied, lip puckered, his daddy’s fingerprints all over him. They hadn’t been his friends, they hadn’t been his family; they were just men working the land and because of the way they’d turned their heads, they had to go.

Cody was halfway through the barn when one of the younger ranch hands fell into step. “Mr. Tucker, sir.” Cody slowed his pace, but didn’t stop. He still had to face Ms. Luella before he could shower. “Name’s Dylan. Dylan Branson. I’m thankful to you for keeping me on.”

“But?”

“Well, a lot of those men have families counting on them. Finding work will be hard for the older ones.”

Cody stopped short, his voice tight with authority when he spoke. “I understand the ramifications. But understand that I also have a family to think about.”

“Yes, sir,” Dylan said, taking off his hat. “But, I don’t know if you’re aware, Sam Holden’s granddaughter moved in with him a few years back. She’s been having some sort of medical issues and I know money’s tight. Losing this job will be a real hardship for them.”

Cody took a breath, Dylan’s words giving him serious pause. Sam was a coward. Stood by while Silas beat Beau to a bloody pulp, but if Cody was responsible for making his grandkid suffer, did that make him any better?

Suddenly unsure of his plan, he was even more uncertain of his first impression of the younger wrangler. His original thought when he’d looked at the pretty boy was that Dylan was a pampered country kid with a too-big chip on his shoulder and too little dirt under his nails. But it took a good person to look out for the other guy. And guts to call the boss on his decision.

Cody shook Dylan’s hand. “I appreciate the heads-up and I’ll make sure his grandkid is taken care of.”

The kid looked shocked at Cody’s generosity. Well, if he was using Silas as a baseline for judging him and his brothers, then his reaction would make sense. If his dad had been faced with the same situation, there was no way he’d extend medical benefits. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even have paid the fired hands for the rest of the week like Cody was going to.

“If you need any help until you hire a new foreman—”

“You’re looking at the new foreman.”

Cody didn’t know who was more surprised by his admission—Dylan or himself. Being the foreman was a hands-on, down-and-dirty, full-time job. Not that Cody wasn’t up for the challenge. He’d never shied away from hard work. But taking over the role of foreman would mean he’d have to be more invested in Tucker’s Crossing than he’d originally intended.

Maybe that was a good thing. It would allow him to hear the happenings on the ranch firsthand. Let him see what his old man had done to take what was one of the most lucrative cattle ranches in this part of the state and run it into the ground.

Unable to sleep again last night, Cody had taken a look at the books. The ranch was doing fine until about three years ago—just about the same time Shelby moved in. Coincidence? Cody hoped so, even though his gut was telling him the two were somehow connected.

Plus, Cody didn’t believe in coincidences.

“I could use some help finding some new men though. We’re going to need a few new hands if I’m to get the ranch up and running like it used to be.”

Because suddenly he knew that’s what he needed to do. No sense in fulfilling the terms of the will, only to inherit a ranch that was a stone’s skip from sinking.

“You got it, boss. I’ll put the word around town that the Tuckers are hiring.”

“Appreciate it.”

Cody made his way through the barn, across the gravel drive, and up the back steps to the porch. The smell of Ms. Luella’s famous chili greeted him.

Cody reached for the screen door and hesitated. How did you tell a woman like Ms. Luella Puckett that after thirty years of service, she was fired?

Most people gave Ms. Luella—and her three-county-radius reputation—a wide berth. It was common knowledge that Silas had only kept her on all these years because of her blue-ribbon chili and sell-your-soul-for pies. But Cody knew that hidden beneath that stubborn pride and nasty disposition was a woman with a big heart.

“Do I need to get the swatter?” the housekeeper snapped her welcome home. Not even bothering to face Cody, she continued stirring the chili, her plump hips rotating with each swirl of the spoon. She gave a few disciplinary tuts of the tongue and mumbled loudly under her breath, “Hanging like flies on the screen door in Ju-ly. Did you lose all your manners in that big city?”

“And good afternoon to you too, Ms. Luella,” Cody replied to the woman who had practically raised him. After his mama died, Ms. Luella was the only maternal figure in the Tucker boys’ lives. And using the words “maternal” and “Ms. Luella” in the same sentence—hell the same conversation—was a stretch.

“It’s Ms. Luella, now, is it?” She spun around, the whites of her eyes wide with accusation and something new that made Cody’s heart give a little twist—disappointment. “Does that make it easier when throwing an old lady out on her rump?”

Cody was struck that after all these years, she still looked the same. A robust woman with “hands and legs made for ranching,” as his mama used to say. Her hair, more salt than pepper these days, was twisted tight into a bun and perched on the crown of her head. It seemed the only thing that had changed were her clothes.

Gone were the work pants and button-down Western top. In their place she wore a flowered print skirt that swished back and forth as she moved about the kitchen, a lavender blouse, and—hold up—was that blush on her cheeks?

My, my . . . seemed that after thirty-five years of mourning the loss of her Chester, Ms. Luella had finally found herself a man—or someone she meant to impress. Good for her, Cody thought.

“Noticed you weren’t at the ranch meeting,” Cody started. “I thought I made myself pretty clear, all employees were to attend.”

“I reckon you did.” She brushed off his attempt at having some kind of conversation the same way she would a pesky fly. “Now, sit yourself down and have some of my lemon icebox pie.”

Cody, who hadn’t made it past the doorway yet, gathered up all the patience he had, and headed toward the table. This was going to be as bad as coming home. But maybe a slice of pie would help it all go down a little easier.

“Don’t you be thinking just ’cuz you’re all grown up and in that ridiculous shirt of yours that you can be walking on my scrubbed floors with those boots.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Cody said, feeling a headache coming on. One that would last, oh, say twelve months. But he toed off one boot, then the other, leaving them on the designated mat by the door.

“Besides looking like you’re here to sell me Jesus?” One hand planted sternly on each rounded hip, she eyed his ensemble, which now that Cody thought about it did look ridiculous, especially since he was certain that by now a few dozen calloused cowboys had heard he’d elected himself the new foreman.

“I meant what I said out there, and don’t pretend that you didn’t hear. I saw your little head peek out from behind the barn.”

“Are you calling me a snoop?”

“If the shoe fits. And the last thing I want to do is let you go, but Noah and I agree we don’t want anyone around that was here when Beau was a kid. We want him to have a clean slate with this place.”

“And you think letting me go will solve your problems? You and I both know you ain’t never letting Beau come back here. You’re so busy controlling everyone’s lives and trying to make up for your daddy that . . .” Luella faded off, and set her spoon on the counter. “Listen to me, son.”

“Dammit, Luella. I’m not a boy anymore.”

“Then stop acting like one. At least for JT’s sake. Men don’t run from their pasts. They chase it, rope it, take it to the ground, and hog-tie it.” Luella stepped into Cody’s space, punching at him with her pudgy finger.

What the hell? She knew about Jake?

“Lulu.”

“And don’t you Lulu me!” She crossed back to the stove and opened the upper cupboard, taking out a pair of handcuffs. “I remember when you were no bigger than a turd. Then your mama died and you walked around like all the problems of the world were yours to fix.”

Before Cody could get to her side, Lulu shackled the cuffs to one plump hand, snaked the chain through the oven handle and secured it with a loud snap to the other hand.

“Well, I ain’t nobody’s problem! And I ain’t yours to fix, you hear me? This here is my home and you and your brothers are going to have to pull my body from this here stove kicking and a-screaming if you want me gone.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Cody yanked at the cuffs. They didn’t budge.

“It’s called a sit-in. And watch your mouth before I wash it out.”

Cody grinned. “And just how do you reckon you’ll manage to do that, being attached to the oven and all?”

“Oh, I have my ways, Cody Tucker. I have my ways.” Luella plopped her backside on a chair she had placed next to the stove. “Now you get out of my kitchen. You got me so riled I’m getting the hives.”

“This is funny as all get-out, but I can’t leave you here cuffed to the stove.” He fiddled with the handcuffs. Not only were they the real deal, but they also weren’t coming off anytime soon. “Where’s the key?”

“You just want them keys so you can throw me out. Do I have ‘stupid’ plastered across my forehead?”

“Throwing a fit isn’t going to make a difference. I’ve already made my mind up, and no matter how hard this is, you have to go.”

Luella grabbed a fork off the counter and jabbed it into Cody’s hand—hard.