“Howdy,” he said.
Lenore wasn’t sure if she should demand he leave or say hello. Since she was Texan, she said, “Good morning.”
Then, “What are you doing here?”
“I got an order for a Brandon Rhinehart,” he said. “This his place?” He looked down at the clipboard while the earth disappeared completely beneath Lenore’s feet.
No. No, this wasnot“his place.”
“I reckon this is it,” the man continued. “Put it in my GPS and all.” He looked up, his demeanor changing when he saw Lenore’s face. She wasn’t sure what she was broadcasting, but if it was anything like the poisonous, angry feeling coiling inside her, the man would probably get in his truck and leave without her asking.
“Is Brandon here?” he asked, his voice a touch more guarded.
“No,” Lenore bit out. “This is not his place.”
“Oh,” the man said. “Maybe you help me find it.”
Lenore could not believe that this was happening. Brandon had said nothing about the well-drilling truck coming today, and Lenore disliked surprises as much as she did men laying claim to her land.
A horn blared behind them. Several times, as someone really pumped on it.
The man—Kenneth was the name stitched into his shirt—turned, and Lenore stepped out to the side of the enormous truck to see Brandon’s pull-up alongside it.
He barely came to a stop before he launched himself out of the cab. “Hey, you guys really mean it when you say you’ll be there bright and early.” He shot a look at Lenore and then moved to shake Kenneth’s hand.
“You Brandon?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Brandon said. “You found the place okay?”
Lenore’s brain boiled. She could not believe he wasclaiming her homestead.
Kenneth looked at her and then back to him. “Yeah, we found it.”
Brandon looked at Lenore too. She honestly felt like crying—not because she was overwhelmed or sad. No, these tears would be borne of pure anger.
Brandon’s expression pleaded with her. He, at least, knew she was not happy. But he turned to Kenneth anyway.
“My sister-in-law told me you could help us determine the best place for a well. I’m afraid we don’t really know much about it out here.”
He flashed Lenore a look that didn’t stick, though she’d heard him throw Zona under the bus loud and clear. This absolutely could’ve been Zona’s idea. She’d wanted to drill a well for months now.
“Let us consult our maps,” Kenneth said, shooting Lenore another look. “We’ve got some equipment we use as well. Gives us a good idea of where to start.”
“Okay, great,” Brandon said.
“I just need one of you to sign that we can go ahead and do this.” Kenneth looked at the clipboard but didn’t move it toward Brandon or Lenore, staying in completely neutral territory.
After a couple of long seconds where Lenore stood as still as a statue, Brandon snatched the clipboard and said, “I’ll get this back to you.”
Then he took the three steps to Lenore, linked his arm through hers—which whipped her around—and said, “Walk with me.”
“I don’t want to walk with you,” Lenore hissed, trying to pull her arm away. “How dare you order a drill truck?”
“I didn’t,” Brandon said. “Arizona did.” He glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “But you need this, so I’m not upset about it.”
“Well, I am.”
“It’s not charity,” he said over the top of her. “You’re going pay her back.” He stopped moving, having put enough distancebetween them and the drill operators to have a little bit of privacy. He glanced that way, and then moved toward the greenhouse, further sheltering them around the corner of the cabin.
