Whirlwind - Janet Dailey Page 0,61
up from a desk spread with bills and receipts. “If it’s about your boyfriend, he seems all right. But the last thing we need around here is another bull rider. Why can’t you hook up with some nice tax accountant? We could use one of those.”
“This isn’t about Shane,” Lexie said. “I’m here about something else.” She pulled up a straight-backed chair and sat down. “Are you aware that it’s getting past time to breed our cows?”
“I am, and I’ve got it covered.”
“Covered how? I’ve looked at Dad’s records. There’s no way we can use our bulls without inbreeding. We need new bloodlines.”
“I know.” Tess paused to enter an item on the computer. “I said I’ve got it covered. It’s part of my job.”
“Well, I took genetics and breeding classes in college, and I’ve been doing research online. Take a look at this.” She spread the pages she’d printed in front of her sister. “If we go with artificial insemination, we can buy semen from some really great bulls. The calves from our cows could ensure the future of this ranch.”
Tess pushed the pages away with scarcely a glance. “Forget it, Lexie. Good semen is expensive, and there’s no guarantee that the process will work. If it fails, there goes the money. Besides, natural breeding is healthier for the cows.”
Lexie bit back her frustration. She should have expected this. “You say you’ve got it covered. So what’s the plan?”
“You know the Jensen Ranch—the one east of Phoenix? They raise beef cattle and a few bucking bulls.”
“I know who they are. But their bulls aren’t first-class. They do small-town and high school rodeos, mostly.”
“Well, I’ve been in touch with them, and I’ve arranged a trade,” Tess said. “They’ll truck one of their better bulls here to our ranch and take him back once he’s done his job. In return, they’ll get one of our yearling bulls—their pick. Our cows will be taken care of, and it won’t cost us a cent.”
By the time her sister finished, Lexie was livid. “It’s not just about money, Tess. They’ll be taking the best of our yearlings. I already know which calf they’ll want. And we don’t even know whether the bull will be any good.” She shoved the papers back in front of her sister. “Just look at this list. Right here—for a few hundred dollars we can get a straw from a bull with lineage going back to Little Yellow Jacket. And here’s another one—a bull from a granddaughter of Bodacious. These are fabulous bloodlines, Tess. Even one straw, with the right cow, could give us a line of world-class bulls.”
“All that money for one little straw—to take care of just one cow.” Tess shook her head. “We’d have to pay a vet to do the job right, and even then the pregnancy might not take. It isn’t going to happen, Lexie. I’ve already made the arrangements. The Jensen bull will be arriving in the next few days.”
“And if his calves don’t turn out to be any good?”
“Then we’ll sell them. At least that’ll leave us with some money.”
“Money! That’s all that matters to you!” Lexie stood up so abruptly that the chair crashed over. “I’m thinking of the future—where the ranch will be in five years, in ten—”
“If we can’t pay our bills, we won’t have a ranch,” Tess said. “Now leave me alone and let me get back to work.”
Lexie stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. How could Tess be so shortsighted? Of course, the ranch needed money to survive. But using a mediocre bull for stud was a BandAid solution. To be successful as stock contractors, they were going to need a great line of bulls—or at least one truly great bucker and a way to make the most of breeding him.
Still seething, she strode outside and crossed the yard to the bull pasture. For a long moment she stood watching the bulls. There was old Thunderbolt, getting more feeble by the day; and Renegade, who, through no fault of his own, had triggered Corey’s tragedy. There were the good, solid bulls—the brindle, the massive white, and the others. There was Whiplash, young and barely tested but full of fight. And there was Whirlwind, her silver bull, the dominant one. She could see him standing like a monarch on a grassy rise, pawing the earth and lowing a challenge to all comers.
He was her best hope. Maybe her only hope.
“It’s up to you, big guy,” she