He shook his head. “She convinced him to hire a couple to live in the foreman’s cabin. The wife cooks and cleans for him. The husband oversees the livestock and keeps an eye on the place, along with a couple of part-time cowboys. It’s not a big spread.”

She recalled that Cal’s was. He ran purebred black Angus cattle and he had a lot of cowboys, some of whom were rumored to be old comrades from his former line of work.

“I wouldn’t mind having a ranch,” she sighed. “At least Tad and I would always have beef on the table.”

“Of course you would,” he chided. “You’d name the beef steers and dare anyone to carry them off to the abattoir.”

She made a face. “I guess I’d plant a garden and grow vegetables,” she conceded. “I’d plant lots of fruit trees and shrubs, though. I like fruit.”

“Me, too. I have pear, apple, cherry and peach trees for the birds, and three pecan trees for the squirrels.”

“For the squirrels?” she probed.

“The damned things strip the pecans off the tree green,” he muttered. “I have to buy pecans.”

She chuckled.

He sighed and stood up. “I’ll come by first thing and drop Tad off at school,” he said, “and bring him home tomorrow afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t have asked...” she said softly.

“No. You got a double dose of pride when they handed it out. You don’t like being obliged to people. But you’d do the same thing for me without being asked, if our situations were reversed.”

She sighed. “I guess so. Thanks.”

“Friends help each other out,” he reminded her, and he smiled. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

She shook her head. “Tad will check on me. He’s a good kid.”

“He really is. Bighearted.” He hesitated. “Have you told him about Morris getting early release?”

She grimaced. “I didn’t have the heart,” she said. “He’s even more afraid of Morris than I am.” She studied his hard face. “There’s a rumor that Morris made threats against the assistant DA who prosecuted him, the one who’s running for district attorney next year.”

“Yes. Darrell Tarley—Darrell being spelled with two r’s and two l’s, as he constantly reminds us,” he returned, shaking his head. “God help us if he gets elected. The man can’t find his feet when he’s looking down. How he ever got into law is a question a sage couldn’t answer. He’s got the worst record of convictions of any officer of the court in the history of San Antonio. His only successful prosecution was your stepbrother,” he added with a laugh.

“He has a reputation for making deals,” she said simply. “He’s very politically astute. Of course, he’s also politically correct, to a fault.”