CHAPTER FIVE
THE BUILDINGS OF the Lazy W, made mostly of rough-hewn cedar and fir, stood proudly on the flat land comprising the ranch and were visible from the main highway. Tory wheeled the pickup onto the gravel lane that was lined with stately pines and aspen and led up to the house.
Purebred horses grazed in the fields surrounding the stables, whole spindly legged foals rompe
d in the afternoon sunlight.
Tory’s heart swelled with pride for the Lazy W. Three hundred acres of high plateau held together by barbed wire and red metal posts had been Tory’s home for all of her twenty-seven years and suddenly it seemed that everyone wanted to take it away from her. Trask, with his damned investigation of the horse swindle of five years ago, was about to ruin her credibility as a Quarter Horse breeder by reminding the public of the shady dealings associated with the Lazy W.
Tall grass in the meadow ruffled in the summer breeze that blew across the mountains. White clouds clung to the jagged peaks of the Cascades, shadowing the grassland. This was the land she loved and Tory would fight tooth and nail to save it—even if it meant fighting Trask every step of the way. He couldn’t just come marching back into her life and destroy everything she had worked for in the past five years!
Tory squinted against the late-afternoon sun as she drove the pickup into the parking lot near the barn and killed the engine. The warm westerly wind had removed any trace of the rainstorm that had occurred the night before and waves of summer heat shimmered in the distance, distorting the view of the craggy snow-covered mountains.
She pushed her keys into the pocket of her jeans and walked to the paddock where Governor was still separated from the rest of the horses. Eldon, one of the ranch hands, was dutifully walking the bay stallion.
“How’s our patient?” Tory asked as she patted Governor on the withers and lifted his hoof. Governor snorted and flattened his ears against his head. “Steady, boy,” Tory murmured softly.
“Still sore, I’d guess,” the fortyish man said with a frown. His weathered face was knotted in concern.
“I’d say so,” Tory agreed. “Has he been favoring it?”
“Some.”
“What about his temperature?” Tory asked as she looked at the sensitive tissue within the hoof.
“Up a little.”
She looked up and watched Governor’s ribs, to determine if his breathing was accelerated, but it wasn’t.
“I’ll call the vet. Maybe Anna should have a look at it.”
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
She released Governor’s hoof and dusted her hands on her jeans. “I’ll see if she can come by tomorrow; until then we’ll just keep doing what we have been for the past two days.”
“You got it.”
Tory, with the intention of pouring a large glass of lemonade once she was inside the house, walked across the gravel parking area and then followed a worn path to the back porch. Alex was lying in the shady comfort of a juniper bush. He wagged his tail as she approached and Tory reached down to scratch the collie behind his ears before she opened the door to the kitchen.
“Tory? Is that you?” Keith yelled from the vicinity of the den when the screen door banged shut behind her.
“Who else?” she called back just as she heard his footsteps and Keith entered the homey kitchen from the hall. His young face was troubled and dusty. Sweat dampened his hair, darkening the strands that were plastered to his forehead. “You were expecting someone?” she teased while reaching into the refrigerator for a bag of lemons.
“Of course not. I was just waiting for you to get back.”
“That sounds ominous,” she said, slicing the lemons and squeezing them on the glass juicer. “I’m making lemonade, you want some?”
Keith seemed distracted. “Yeah. Sure,” he replied before his gray eyes darkened. “What took you so long in town?”
Tory looked up sharply. Keith hadn’t acted like himself since Trask was back in Oregon. “What is this, an inquisition?”
“Hardly.” Keith ran a hand over his forehead, forcing his hair away from his face. “Rex and I were just talking…about what happened last night.”
“You mean the calf?” she asked.
“Partially.” Keith had taken the wooden salt shaker off the table and was pretending interest in it.
Tory felt her back stiffen slightly as she poured sugar and the lemon juice into a glass pitcher. “And the rest of your discussion with Rex centered on Trask, is that it?”