Different Dreams by Tory Cates

Acres.”
    â€œWe might be able to get some kind of an emergency award if we let the foundations know what the situation is.”
    â€œGo to it. Get on the phone and start calling around.”
    Malou was already pulling her cell phone from her pocket when she remembered one significant detail. “I can’t get a signal down here.”
    â€œWhat about the ranch house? There’s supposed to be a land line. You can make your calls from up there.”
    Malou looked around her. The baby—she’d have to stay for the baby. No, Ernie could certainly mix up formula as well as she could. Observation notes? Clearly the survival of the troop was more important than a few hours of missed notes. No, she really had no excuse for not going with Cameron Landell. No excuse other than fear of being alone with him. She scratched out a quick note to Ernie giving him Bambi’s feeding schedule and explaining where she’d gone. “Let’s hit the road,” she said, taping the note to a spot where Ernie was sure not to miss it—the front of the refrigerator.
    The interior of the Escalade was all rosewood, with pewter leather seats that felt like a kid glove against the bare backs of Malou’s legs. She drank in its deep, rich smell as the barely perceptible hum of the finely tuned engine sent smooth vibrations purring through her. Afterso many months of no-frills living at the research station punctuated by dusty, jarring jeep trips into Laredo for supplies, she sank gratefully into this moment of luxury. The main road leading to the ranch house was lined with wildflowers—bluebonnets, Indian paintbrushes, wild daisies. It was a riot of unending color.
    Cameron scrutinized the passing landscape. Slowing down, he arched his torso slightly forward so that he could jam a hand into his jeans pocket. Malou was not unaware of the play of strongly developed muscles beneath Cameron’s shirt and trousers as he wriggled a hand into his pocket and brought forth a crudely drawn map. “I got directions over the phone from Stallings’s foreman, Jorge, and since his English is about as bad as my Spanish, I’m not terribly confident of this map I drew. You’ve never been to the ranch house, I take it.”
    â€œNo. Mr. Stallings was very jealous of his privacy. He never invited any of the researchers to his home.”
    â€œThis must be it,” Cameron said, matching the scrawled lines on the crumpled paper to a road ahead. They turned off on an asphalt road that curved beneath a rusted wrought-iron arch. At the crown of the arch was a tipped-over S representing Stallings’s Lazy S brand. “This ranch house had better really be something,” Cameron grumbled as they moved out of sight of the highway. “It would have to be to make Stallings’s property worth even a third of what he claimed.”
    The road dipped down through a low water crossing. A thin trickle of water ran across it. “Bet that’s hell when it rains,” Cameron noted disapprovingly.
    Malou barely glanced at it or noticed when the paving ended. She was spellbound by the beauty of the property. An infinity of tender spring green stretched out all around her, wrapping the land in the promise of new life that sprang forth like a miracle each year to defy the harsh surroundings. With the trained eye of an ethologist, she caught glimpses of animal life that most people would have missed. Of startled deer peering through the foliage. Of armadillos trundling through the underbrush. Of javelinas bolting away from the sound of the oncoming car.
    â€œIt’s remarkably unspoiled,” she exalted.
    â€œYes, and even more remarkably undeveloped,” Cameron groused. “I haven’t seen any of the improvements, the fences, the pastureland, the buildings that Stallings told me were here.”
    They emerged from the jungle of green and rounded a curve. At its end sat a lovely stone