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“Oh, I’m sure I will,” her father said, and his tone was sour. “And I hope you’ve got enough money to pay him for it.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I swear, girl, you two are worse than oil and water, you’re fire and tinder. But now you’ve really done it.”
“Dad—”
“That drone was doing a job. For me,” he ended pointedly. She opened her mouth, found herself speechless, and shut it again. “Cody was checking the fence lines for me. I haven’t had time to do a full circuit since winter, and he said he could do it in half an hour. He does it for a lot of ranchers.”
She gaped at him, and said rather blankly, “He does?”
“He does. For miles around. Not just Last Stand but over in Whiskey River, up to Round Mountain and all the way out to Kerrville.”
“With those drones?” she said, knowing she was sounding stupid but seemingly unable to help it.
Her father nodded. “He’s got them programmed somehow to register if there’s a break in what should be an intact fence line. And there’s an app that goes with it, that gets the mapping data and gives you an exact location if there’s a problem.”
That sounded so useful she was having a little trouble processing it. And connecting it to the nuisance next door. “I…that’s handy.”
“Almost as handy as your mother’s record-keeping software.”
She blinked. “The one she’s teaching me, for when I start my own business? Yeah, that’s great, the way it’s tailored to ranch…” Her voice trailed off as the obvious hit her. “He did that, too?”
“He did. He designed it for them, but let us have a copy after Maggie showed it to your mom and she was amazed. Oh, and that weather system that warned us that thunderstorm had changed course last summer, and let us get your horses into the barn? That’s his, too.”
She was gaping again. Her mind was tumbling chaotically, but her father kept going.
“And his drones also keep an eye out for smoke in brush fire season, so we have a chance to stop them before they get out of hand. The Ranchers Association pays him for that.”
“How did I not know any of this?” she demanded.
“Honey, if there’s anything we all know, it’s not to bring up Cody Rafferty around you.”
She was starting to feel…she wasn’t sure what. Sheepish, maybe. And something else, a memory, suddenly came back to her. Of talking to Slater Highwater that day she’d stopped into the Last Stand Saloon for one of his genius peach lemonades. Luke had been there, the young man Slater had hired a few years ago, taking a chance on him when few would. Luke had trouble interacting with people in person, but he was a dedicated and thorough worker who had, Slater had told her, paid him back a hundredfold for the risk.
And that day Slater had mentioned how Luke had blossomed online, making connections he could never make in person, through his new computer and software. Designed, built, and paid for by Slater’s brother Sean…and Cody Rafferty. A project that had led to them partnering for more of the same kind of thing, custom designed for particular issues people might have.
She hadn’t known that until Slater had told her.
She hadn’t known any of this.
Because apparently nobody would ever dare even mention Cody Rafferty’s name to her.
And for the first time in her life—a life shared almost from the moment of birth with that unmentionable name—she questioned exactly why he irritated her so much. Why it was he, of all the Raffertys, who rubbed her so wrong. She liked and respected Keller, and the way he’d stepped in for his family after their father’s awful death. She admired Chance tremendously, both for his service and what he was doing now, for the dogs who had also served. And she was a bit in awe of Rylan’s artistic talent and felt honored to actually own one of his beautifully carved leather belts.
But Cody? Cody was that pesky kid who was always getting on her nerves, who had tormented and teased her all through school. Although to be fair she’d done as much right back at him…except for the truce she’d declared after his father had been killed in action when they were both nine.
She had her mother to thank for that. She’d been stunned herself, having thought Kyle Rafferty a kind and wise man almost as nice as her own father. And she had only to think how she would feel if he had died to get an inkling of how all the Raffertys had felt. But she hadn’t known what to do about it. It had been her mother who had suggested she announce a truce; no antagonistic actions while they were grieving.
Of course, at the time her mother hadn’t explained that the grieving would never really end. But the truce had ended, although she’d stuck to the agreement that he would have to be the one to end it. Which he had, almost a year later, sending her old buckskin gelding home with a painted red target on his butt.
She’d been almost relieved. They’d continued the fray, until she’d headed off to College Station and Texas A & M, while he—of course—had headed for archrival UT in Austin.
Longhorns vs. Aggies, forever.
Her parents had thought the realigning of the athletic conferences might change sentiments between the two schools. She’d known better.
Once off to college she’d had four and a half years of relative peace, running into him only twice on simultaneous weekends home. But then they’d both graduated and returned to Last Stand, and the old enmity had arisen anew as if it had never paused.
