Shake the Trees Read Free Page A

had become expensive toys for rich oilmen from Texas and lawyers from California.  When a cowboy grew too old or tired to scratch out a living from cows, Sam made sure he received the best price for his land. 
    Sam also became the absentee landowners’ local contact.  Even though the new owner invariably wanted to return the land to nature and watch the wildlife, Sam explained how thousands of dollars in property taxes could be saved by letting a few cows graze during the summer months, thereby qualifying for an agricultural exemption.  Everybody wanted to beat the taxman.  Sandi meted out the grazing rights to those ranchers who needed the grass the most - in dry years the ungrazed pastures could make the difference between keeping a herd and selling it off at bargain basement prices.  Sam had been accepted - at least as much as an outsider could be.
    Ellen was fifteen minutes late and arrived as Sam was finishing his second beer.  She entered through the dining room door.  Sam hadn’t noticed her in the mirror behind the bar, but became aware of her presence as several cowboy hats rotated 180 degrees.  He laid a five-dollar bill on the bar and waved.  Ellen gave him a million dollar smile, and he felt the envious eyes of the other men on the back of his head.  She had taken his advice and worn jeans and boots, but these jeans and boots appeared to have been manufactured in Turin not Tulsa.  Sam suspected they cost more than many of the pickup trucks lined up on the gravel parking lot in front of the bar.
    “You look great.  Did you get a chance to take a rest?” Sam asked.
    “No.  I had several calls to make, but I feel great.”  She gave him another dazzling smile.
    Sam gulped.  He had met this woman less than eight hours earlier and knew virtually nothing about her, but felt slightly out of control as he led her to a table.
    ”Would you like a drink?”
    “A dry California cab would be nice.  Do you want to get a bottle?
    “Sounds great.”  Sam turned to their waitress as she rushed by.  “Susie, can you bring us a bottle - a nice dry California cab, please.”
    The middle-aged Hispanic waitress did her best to contain an involuntary snort and laugh rolled into one.  “Don’t you want to see our wine list, Sam?” 
    She and Sam both knew that the High Valley Saloon and Steakhouse did not have a wine list, and that he would be lucky if there was a halfway drinkable bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in the whole village.
    “No, I’ll trust you on this one, Susie.”
    “I’ll try not to let you down, Sam.” 
    Ellen and Sam exchanged more small talk, and Susie soon returned with an open bottle of wine and quickly filled two glasses.  There would be no cork-smelling wine-twirling snobbery here, even if Sam was smitten by this blond with the expensive jeans and boots. 
    “What would you like, miss?”
    “The filet - rare.  Bloody.  And a garden salad.  Oil and vinegar on the side please.”
    “You get another side.”
    “No, thank you.”
    “A filet mooing and a salad.  Sam, you want the ribeye, medium, baked potato, butter and sour cream, and the Caesar salad.”
    “Yeah, thanks Susie.”
    “Coming right up.”
    Ellen studied Sam for a moment.  “You seem to be a fairly predictable man, Sam.”
    Good god, Sam thought, she just told me that I’m boring.  “Well, I guess I know what I like and I tend to stick with it.”
    “Aren’t you afraid you might be missing something?  You know - something you never tried or didn’t even know about?”
    “You might have a point.  But tell me about yourself.  You’re along way from Miami.  Miami, right?  That’s home?”
    “Mm-hmm.”
    “Well, you’re a long way from home all by yourself.”  Sam knew he screwed up as the words were coming out of his mouth.
    Ellen threw her head back with a hearty laugh.  “Do you think I can’t take care of myself, Sam?”
    “No, no.  That’s not what I meant.  I mean I was just