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Farnsworth shifted in his chair, the movement drawing focus to him. “In my mind, the information Ed unco
vered explains how and why your particular acreage was singled out. I grant you other ranchers have recently had difficulties obtaining permits for land they have grazed their stock on for years. Invariably, however, it has been in areas already set aside as national forest land or something similar. Your land has never been given any such designation.”
“But it isn’t my land anymore, is it?” Chase leaned back in his chair, his gaze hard with challenge.
“Regrettably no.” Farnsworth dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“And you can’t tell me who owns it other than some corporation called—” Unable to come up with the name, Chase looked to Talbot.
The investigator supplied it. “Arateel.”
“Whoever the hell that is,” Chase grumbled in disgust.
“In our opinion, Chase,” the lawyer began, both elbows propped on their respective armrests, his fingers steepled in front of him, “given the connection to the environmentalists, it seems highly likely that the new owner or owners intend to leave the land untouched. What else can they do?” He opened his hands, palms up. “The property is completely landlocked by yours. Assuming you are correct and Dy-Corp is somehow behind this, what good would the land be to them? I don’t care how rich the coal deposit might be. They have no way to get their machinery in or the coal out. And you are under no legal obligation to grant access to it.”
“That is all well and good, but it doesn’t change the fact that we don’t own the land,” Ty stated and glanced to the window as a diesel truck, stock trailer in tow, rolled toward the lane, the muffled rumble of its cranking motor penetrating into the house. “Do you see that semi out there? It’s loaded with three-, four-, and five-year-old cows, each capable of producing a calf every spring for the next ten years and more. Do you have any idea how much money that represents in lost revenue? We need that land. We need its water and its hay as well as its grass. Without it, we will probably have to cut back our operation even more.”
“It has been a critical loss, I know, even for a ranch this size,” the lawyer began.
“That’s a major understatement, Farnsworth,” Chase declared.
“Of course. But as crippling as this loss may be right now, I believe it can ultimately work to your benefit.” Farnsworth leaned forward, determined to put a positive spin on the situation. “You know the hell we have been through these last few years trying to deal with the government. Now the property is in private hands. As soon as we can identify the new owner, we can begin negotiations—preferably for the purchase of it, or at the very least, a lease.”
“How long will that take?” Ty wanted to know.
“It is difficult to say. Talbot has three of his associates working on it right now. We may not get the answer tomorrow or next week, but hopefully it will come soon. Isn’t that right, Ed?”
“Nothing stays a secret forever,” Talbot replied. “Sooner or later we will ask the right person or grease the right palm, and we will learn who is behind the corporation. Once we have a name, tracking that individual down will be a snap.”
The minute Talbot finished, Farnsworth spoke up again. “Obviously, we would have preferred to come here armed with that information. But when it became apparent that it wasn’t likely to be forthcoming in the next few days, we realized that we needed to apprise you about the turn of events. Given the unexpectedness of them, we felt we should tell you in person rather than over the telephone, even though we couldn’t fill in all the blanks.”
Talbot raised his cup. “Is there any coffee left?” His question signaled an end to any further information. The conversation reverted to a rehash of facts and supposition, and exploration of their options.
Tara sailed into the house, the denim collar of her silver-studded jacket turned up about her neck. As she passed the door to the den, she caught the hum of male voices coming from within. Her mouth curved in a feline smile of satisfaction. She continued without pause through the living room, heading toward the sound of banging pots.
The smile was still in place when she walked into the kitchen and paused at the sight of the twins. Armed with a wooden spoon, Trey pounded on an aluminum pot with relish while Laura scowled furiously at him. Jessy was at the sink, washing up some baking dishes, and Sally was bent over the oven’s open door, where the aroma of freshly baked cookies emanated.
“Who is making all this racket?” Tara chided in a playful voice.
Laura let out a squeal of delight and made a beeline straight for her, toddling as fast as her young legs could carry her. “Tatie, Tatie, Tatie,” she cried, which was the closest she could come to saying Tara’s name, and stretched her arms out to Tara.
Laughing, Tara scooped her up. “How’s my favorite little girl?”
Laura flashed her a big smile and immediately transferred her attention to the shiny silver studs that adorned Tara’s jacket. After a short pause, Trey resumed his drumming practice.
Still holding Laura, Tara crossed to the sink. “How on earth do you two hear yourselves think?” she asked, raising her voice to make herself heard above the banging.
An absent smile played across Jessy’s mouth. “You learn to tune it out.” She rinsed a mixing bowl under the tap water and set it on the rack to drain. “Have the photographers left?”
“They are loading the last of their equipment now. Do you mind if I borrow one of your vehicles? I have a couple of errands I need to run in town, and the ranchhands talked so much about Blue Moon that the photographer wants to see it. I told them they could follow me into town.”
“Sure. The keys to the Blazer are on the hook by the back door.” Jessy nodded toward them, her hands once more immersed in dishwater.
“Thanks.” Tara set Laura on the floor. Immediately the toddler scrunched her face and opened her mouth to hiccough out the first sob. Tara patted her blond curls. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she told her, then turned to Sally. “I’ll grab a bite in town, so don’t bother to set a place for me at lunch. Is there anything you need from Fedderson’s while I’m there?”
Sally frowned thoughtfully, then shook her head. “I can’t think of anything,” she said then reconsidered. “Although you might see if they have any fresh strawberries. Shortcake for dessert tonight would be a nice change.”
“Will two quarts be enough?” Tara plucked the set of keys off its hook.
