Chapter 14

The air was crisp with a slight bite, but it held promise of gentler days to come. Overcast skies threatened rain and Trisha pushed the men to get the necessities done on the orchard before it held good to that threat.

Wiping a bead of sweat from her brow with her forearm, she glanced four rows over and was satisfied that Brad and Chuck were as far along as she. So were Eduardo, her dad, and Andrew two rows over. The other men were too far to make out.

Hefting another bag of fertilizer over her shoulder, she trudged through the pain from what she attributed to another pulled muscle and dropped the bag solidly next to the last tree in her row. Ripping it open, she used the spade to spread the nourishment around the base.

The conversation with her father last night was still bothering her. His gentle and often comical demeanor hadn't been present. Instead, there had been a dark fearsome man whom she'd never seen before. And was very certain she didn't want to meet again. He'd never looked at her the way he had in those brief moments, had never laid a hand on her. Furthermore, she had no idea why some silly nightmares she'd had her whole life or a scraped knee thirty years ago had brought out these characteristics in him.

She was also beginning to question whether she'd imagined the man in the orchard last night-a manifestation resulting from stress and insomnia. Nick had taken it seriously when he'd come over. He'd checked the grounds for footprints or tire tracks and had come up empty. When he'd looked at her one last time before leaving, it seemed like he wanted to say more.

Probably wanted to declare her insane.

Her task done, she sat on the back of her four-wheeler, watching Eduardo and her father working side-by-side like they used to for many years. They really only got the opportunity now when Mom and Dad visited, but Eduardo had been working for her father since long before they'd retired. Trisha had promoted him to fulltime foreman then.

All she wanted was her parents' approval. She'd worked hard all her life to gain it. Disappointment had rarely reared its head and, what disturbed her the most, was she had no idea the cause for it this time. Her father asked her not to speak of it again, demanded it when those dark eyes had bored into hers. So, she wouldn't ask, or probe deeper, though her curious nature longed to make it right. They were only here for two weeks, two short weeks, and she wouldn't ruin their time together.

Nodding to Brad, indicating the wrap to another day, she drove back to the shed with them in tow. She parked the vehicle and checked her watch. Chuck took off his ball cap and scratched his sweat-soaked head.

She grinned. "Chuck, you have time to shower before dinner so we don't have to smell you."

Chuck slanted his eyes before grabbing his chest in an exaggerated gesture of mock pain. "Oh, that hurts, Trish."

When his eyes lit with mischief, she backed up two full paces. "Stay away, Chuck. I mean it."

He gripped her by the waist and wiped his sweaty brow on her flannel. "You don't think I smell good?"

"Brad, a little help here." Another round of laughter hit her.

Brad crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "That's what you get. Your own fault for teasing him."

She pushed Chuck away, but not before he planted a smacking kiss to her cheek. "I'll see you in twenty for chow."

After the men left, Eduardo and her father parked their vehicle and assisted her silently in stacking the rest of the unused bags inside the shed. Trisha marked the inventory on her clipboard hung on the wall and turned to them.

Her father's short white curls were windblown and his round cheeks were pink-tinted from the chill. Though tall, he still seemed dwarfish compared to Eduardo's massive height. Where her father was stocky and solid, Eduardo was broad and well-toned. Both could work circles around her, as well as work each other into the ground.

Eduardo eyed her silently for a moment, running a hand through his black ponytail before apparently deciding he could discuss what was on his mind in front of Hank. "Mike was sick again today."

Trisha wiped her brow with a forearm and planted both hands on her hips in disappointment. "I noticed. What was his excuse this time?"

Eduardo shrugged. "Just said he was sick."

Mike Peltzer had been on the orchard for a year, the newest of her men, and the laziest. She hated laziness. "I'll deal with it. Go shower. I'll meet you inside for dinner."

Eduardo glanced at her father and then back to her. "You sure?"

Her dad placed a concrete hand on the shoulder of the man by his side. "My daughter can handle it, can't you?"

Trisha nodded and smiled, pleased her father appeared undisturbed from the night before, and with his faith in her managing. "Go on. I'll talk to him."

After locking the shed, she headed toward one of the ranch homes behind hers. Disciplining the men was not her favorite task, but with running a spread comes responsibility. She could lay down the law as easily as she could smile. Business was business.

Pushing the nerves to the back of her mind, she slipped inside the back door. "Woman in the house, be decent!"

Andrew McArthur met her in the hallway. Dark red hair mussed from his shower and a towel draping his wiry frame, he grinned. "Hope this is decent enough, ma'am."

She liked Andrew. He worked hard, got along well with the men, and had been stable at her orchard for three years now. She smiled. "It is. Get dressed and go eat."

He leaned in a little closer. "You looking for Mike?"

She nodded, and he peeked over his shoulder before whispering again. "He's been acting a little funny, ma'am."

She ignored the "ma'am" comment. No matter how many times she'd told him to stop, he kept doing it. She looked square in his hazel eyes. "How so?"

"He's been moody, stays in his room a lot." He looked over his shoulder again as if expecting to find him there. "He started a fight with Chuck last week. Nothing major, but started it just the same." He rubbed a hand over his wet hair. "Forgive me, ma'am, but if we can't get along, we can't work."

Trisha patted his arm. "You're right. I'll talk with him and meet you at the main house." Glancing around, she asked, "Are you the last one here?"

He nodded, then slipped into his room down the long hallway.

Trisha knocked smartly on the last door to the right. "Mike, I need a word with you." Taking his grunt for an invitation, she opened the door and shut it behind her.

The hardwood floor was littered with clothes, and the trash can overflowed with rotting food. The pungent smell stung and she pinched her eyes to the stench. Mike was sitting on the bed with his feet crossed, watching an old rerun of The A-Team. The thirty-six-year-old man looked much older in the drawn light and not at all friendly. Marching to the small window, she threw open the drapes and lifted the pane to let in fresh air.

Whirling toward him, she eyed the situation. "You don't look sick to me, Mike."

Not acknowledging her, he continued to stare at the television. She paced over to it and slammed her hand on the power button, shutting it off. She kept her voice even. "You show a lot of disrespect for me and the other men."

His eyes flashed heat. When he sat upright, she took note that his sandy hair was greasy and unclean. He rose and took two full steps toward her, his size towering hers. "How dare you come into my room and bark insults."

She stood her ground. "I'll remind you that you're in my house. This filth you've made demonstrates how careless you are and illustrates your disrespect. You hardly show up to work, and when you do, it's half-assed. You're not getting along with my men, the men you have to live with and work side-by-side with daily."

He took two steps closer and she caught the stench of alcohol.

She curled her lip. "And you're drunk, not sick. You have until tomorrow morning at seven a.m. to get your things and leave. I'll have Eduardo draw your pay up to today and have it--"

His fist smacked solidly into her cheek with a pop. The ground rushed at her face.