Wyoming Tough - Diana Palmer [3]
“I’m as quiet as a clam,” she pointed out. “I never tell anything I know.”
“You’re a good listener. Most people aren’t.”
She smiled. “You are.”
He chuckled. “I’m the boss. I have to listen to people.”
“Good point.”
“I’ll just finish getting those bales of hay stacked,” she said. She stopped and glanced up at him. “You know, most ranchers these days use the big bales….”
“Stop right there,” he said curtly. “I don’t like a lot of the so-called improvements. I run this ranch the way my dad did, and his dad before him. We rotate crops, and cattle, avoid unnecessary supplements, and maintain organic crops and grass strains. And we don’t allow oil extraction anywhere on this ranch. Lots of fracking farther south in Wyoming to extract oil from shale deposits, but we won’t sell land for that, or lease it.”
She knew they were environmentally sensitive. The family had been featured in a small northwestern cattlemen’s newspaper that she’d seen lying on a table in the bunkhouse.
“What’s fracking?” she asked curiously.
“They inject liquids at high speed into shale rock to fracture it and allow access to oil and gas deposits. It can contaminate the water table if it isn’t done right, and some people say it causes earthquakes.” His dark eyes were serious. “I’m not taking any chances with our water. It’s precious.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
He shrugged. “No offense. I’ve had the lectures on the joys of using genetically modified crops and cloning.” He leaned down. “Over my dead body.”
She laughed in spite of herself. Her elfin face radiated joy. Her dark eyes twinkled with it. He looked at her for a long moment, smiling quizzically. She was pretty. Not only pretty, she had a sense of humor. She was unlike his current girlfriend, a suave eastern sophisticate named Gelly Bruner, whose family had moved to Wyoming a few years previously and bought a small ranch near the Kirks. They met at a cocktail party in Denver, where her father was a speaker at a conference Mallory had attended. He and Gelly went around together, but he had no real interest in a passionate relationship. Not at the moment anyway. He’d had a bad experience in the past that had soured him on relationships. He knew instinctively that Gelly would only be around as long as he had money to spend on her. He had no illusions about his lack of good looks. He got women because he was rich. Period.
“Deep thoughts, sir?” she teased.
He laughed curtly. “Too deep to share. Get to work, kid. If you need anything, Darby’s nearby.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, and wondered for a moment if she was somehow in the military. It seemed right to give him that form of address. She’d heard cowboys use it with her father since she was a child. Some men radiated authority and resolve. Her father was one. So was this man.
“Now you’re doing the deep-thinking thing,” he challenged.
She laughed. “Just stray thoughts. Nothing interesting.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “What was your favorite period? In history,” he added.
“Oh! Well, actually, it was the Tudor period.”
Both thick, dark eyebrows went up. “Really. And which Tudor was your favorite?”
“Mary.”
His eyebrows levered up a fraction. “Bloody Mary?”
She glared at him. “All the Tudor monarchs burned people. Is it less offensive to burn just a few rather than a few hundred? Elizabeth burned people, and so did her father and her brother. They were all tarred with the same brush, but Elizabeth lived longer and had better PR than the rest of her family.”
He burst out laughing.
“Well, it’s true,” she persisted. “She was elevated to mystic status by her supporters.”
“Indeed she was.” He grimaced. “I hated history.”
“Shame.”
He laughed again. “I suppose so. I’ll have to read up on the Tudors so that we can have discussions about their virtues and flaws.”
“I’d enjoy that. I like debate.”
“So do I, as long as I win.”
She gave