Chapter 1
“You got a problem on your hands, boy, and I mean a big one,” Sal Grimes told him the obvious as he rolled the expensive cigar between his finger with tedious care, his watery light blue eyes on the job. He finished and leaned back in the dark brown leather chair, propping one scarred booted foot on his knee, giving the tall and leanly muscled black-haired man leaning against the windowsill his full attention.
“You don’t think I'm aware of that?” Lance Billings, owner and operator of one of the largest cattle ranches in the world declared impatiently as he stared out of the large bay window in his home office broodingly. The gentle rolling hills, bathed in the gathering dusk and the greenness of the landscape which always managed to soothe his raw nerves weren't doing their job right now. There were too many things on his mind and he had no idea what to do! He dragged his fingers through his dense dark hair and hunched his shoulders defensively.
“It’s just a heart murmur,” he muttered as he continued to look outside.
“You have a history of heart disease in your family, Lance, and you know it.” Sal dragged on the cigar and settled back against the padded chair to enjoy the smoke. It was an expensive brand and probably cost more that the boots he was wearing. But then again, the boots he had on had seen better years. Lance did these things for him and he appreciated it.
He was loyal to the son as he'd been to the father and would continue to be loyal for as long as the good Lord lent his breath to his strong wiry body. He'd promised Luke Billings that he would look out for the boy and he had every intention of doing so. He'd lost not only his boss but his best friend when he'd died of a heart attack two years ago, leaving the boy to manage the ranch that had multiplied over the two years into almost impossible proportions.
“Yea.” Lance dragged his hands over his face wearily. “You saw Mason today?”
“I see that son-of-a-bitch everyday, Lance,” Sal said grimly. “He's constantly hovering around the place as if he's just waiting for you to drop dead so that he can take over. Giving orders as if he's in charge. Sorry boss,” he muttered as he dragged on the cigar. “It’s just that I've seen how hard your father worked —not to mention your granddaddy—tilling the land with his bare hands and the few scrawny cattle, his dad left him. Luke Billings worked himself to the bone to build this place into a spread that is something to write about. You took over not three years ago and this place is even bigger.” He leaned forward, reaching for the crystal ashtray on the table in front of him, knocking ashes from the flame. “Mason Billings Jr. Is very much like his father. Luke worked hard on this place, but his brother was satisfied to just go on and see how many women the Billings name could get him. While your dad was working, he was busy reaching beneath women’s skirts and never giving a damn about how much it hurt his poor wife. Poor Rebecca had to put up with so much from that loser.” He stared at Lance with a hint of apology on his weather-beaten face. “I'm sorry if I'm being disrespectful Lance, but I'm just saying it like it is. Your cousin Mason is stirring up dissension among the men, pretending that he's the second in command. You're going to have to talk to him again.”
“If I talk to him, I'm going dislocate more than his shoulder,” Lance said grimly as he pressed his hands against the pane of glass and felt the heat against his fingers even though the sun was disappearing along the horizon. It was August and the air was humid, giving the indication that they might be in for a summer storm.
“You need an heir,” Sal pointed out.
“First I need to find a woman to carry that heir,” Lance said with a dry laugh.
“You have women beating down your door, dying to be with you. What the hell is taking you so long to pick one?”
“The fact that they all want one thing.”
“Your money?” Sal scoffed. “Women, or most of them, are materialistic, that's something you should be able to look past.”
“I work too hard to allow a female to stake claim and spend the money on clothes and jewelry,” Lance said grimly as he marched over to the cabinet to fix himself a drink.
“You're talking about Abigail,” Sal murmured as he tracked the younger man’s loping panther-like stride as he walked back to the window. “Not every woman is as fickle as that one, you know. You fell for her like a ton of bricks and didn't notice that all she wanted was a ring on her finger and to be lady of Billings Ranch. Good thing you found out quick that she had no intention of settling at Shadow Point. But there are other women out there who can look past the enormous amount of wealth and love the man beneath all that dust and grime. Speaking of which;I promised Ben that I would sit with him while he led the first watch.” He rolled to his feet and stubbed out the cigar. “A storm is coming in; I can feel it in my old bones.” He started to walk away and then turned to look at the man standing by the window with the drink in his hand. He looked so solitary, his face stamped by the intense sun and extreme weather that Shadow Points was famous for. Lance Ethan Billings was six feet, five inches of coiled muscles and sinewy strength and had gotten his looks from both his parents. The thick dark hair was a legacy that all the Billings men had inherited from their European ancestors and the green eyes were a legacy from his Irish mother. Katherine Billings had been a looker even when she'd been battling cancer five years ago. She'd captured Luke Billings’ heart on a trip to Ireland when he was in his twenties.
“You'll find a way, son,” Sal told him softly. “You always do.”
Lance nodded without looking at him and after a moment, Sal left the room and closed the doors behind him. He sipped the excellent scotch moodily, staring sightlessly out at the horizon, not noticing the fiery heat of the sun as it bathed the chestnut trees with its crimson fire. He'd kept Mason on because as his father was always drumming into his head that ‘family was power’ and Mason and Aunt Rebecca were family and one should always look out for family.
His father had taken on the responsibility of taking care of mother and son when his uncle had crashed his Porsche, one that had been purchased by the family’s money while he was on his way from the casino out of town. He'd practically left his wife and son penniless and dependent on his brother’s generosity. The Billings ranch had a proviso in the will and had been handed down throughout generations. Only the eldest son could control the ranch, which was passed down to the eldest son, or in Lance’s case as he was an only child, to him. It had been a constant cause of contention but had been done for a specific reason. The eldest son had the responsibility of building on the fortune and making sure that the ranch made a profit. The responsibility was huge and sometimes the burden of carrying it was a little too much, but Lance had fallen in love with the land and the cattle—as well as the outbuildings surrounding the ancestral home—when he was a little boy and was still in love with it. He tossed back the drink and slammed the glass down onto the table next to him, a grim look on his face. He would be damned if Mason ever got his hands on the ranch. The man was content to walk around in his fancy shoes and clothes and refused to get his hands dirty. He was truly his father’s son!
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