Free Lone Tree by Bobbie O'Keefe Page B

roles.
    As they traveled, something nagged at the edge of
her mind but eluded her. She watched the landscape roll past, aware they were
still on Lone Tree land. Though she wasn’t sure of the exact acreage, she’d
learned twenty-five acres were needed per cow and calf, and Lone Tree stock
numbered over seven hundred.
    Then it hit her. She gave him a quick look. “How did
you know my name is Lainie Sue?”
    He glanced at her, then back at the road. “It is,
isn’t it?”
    “Yes, but I don’t use my middle name. I didn’t put
it in my resume.”
    The SUV’s wheels rolled soundlessly over the cattle
guard as it passed through the ranch gate.
    “I run a check on everyone I hire,” Miles explained.
“That was the name on your California driver’s license.”
    “Oh.” She’d expected a routine check. Her car’s
license plate was right there in plain sight, and a simple check would produce
her name and California address, which would’ve only verified what she’d
already freely divulged. Being faced with the actuality rather than the
prospect, however, made her feel exposed.
    “Does it bother you that I ran a check on you?” Miles
asked, which made her think her discomfort might be showing.
    So she made her voice casual. “No, of course not.
I’d be surprised if you hadn’t.”
    “Why don’t you use your full name? It’s pretty.”
    “It’s not that I don’t use it, so much as my mother
didn’t.” In the side mirror she watched dust spitting from the rear tire.
“That’s what she named me, but she never called me that, so I’m not used to
it.”
    “It’s got a Southern sound to it, what a Texas woman
might name her daughter. But at some point she might’ve decided to leave the
south behind her.”
    You hit the nail on the head, she thought but said,
in a noncommittal tone, “Perhaps.”
    “What was she like?”
    Oh, boy. Lainie kept her face averted. The pain of
loss was still quite fresh, and she was also aware of the pitfalls she could
fall into when talking about her mother.
    “I’m sorry,” Miles said as he made the turn onto the
highway. “Again I’m reminding you of your loss. You’ve never spoken about your
father. Is he still living?”
    At least no pitfalls were connected to Walter. “My
dad died almost five years ago. Suddenly, from a heart attack. He didn’t
suffer, but losing him was hard on my mom.”
    Glancing across at Miles, she decided this
conversation could go both ways. She settled sideways in the seat to face him.
“You’ve also lost your family so you must know that empty feeling. When we were
looking at the portraits of your wife and daughter, you spoke about them in the
past tense.”
    The long silence that followed made her think she’d
overstepped herself.
    He changed lanes to pass a rusty pickup, then eased
back into the right lane.
    “Yes. My wife died young, in a tragic accident.” His
voice carried no discernible emotion. “When our baby girl was only ten months
old. And I’ve since also lost my daughter.”
    No mention of how he’d lost his only child, and he
seemed to have a problem talking about his family. Fair enough. Lainie stared
out her window and allowed silence to stretch. Clumps of drying weeds lined the
highway. Some fencing, an occasional windmill, and a few homesteads were set
back from the road. It was nothing like the endless buildings and industry she
was used to, where one had to catch a city limits sign in order to know where
one town ended and another began.
    Then tall buildings appeared in the distance, making
it look like a regular metropolis up ahead, and the SUV was getting a lot more
company on the highway. Miles slowed the truck, guided it onto an exit ramp,
and glanced across at Lainie.
    “About the men you’ll be meeting. Stuart Malcolm...”
He paused and frowned. “That man’s got a confusing name, hard to tell which is
his first and which is his last. But he’s a good man to have on your side in a
legal battle. He