Toby shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about why he does it. Except that he once told me, when he was still so mired in drinking, that he feels responsible for one of his friend’s deaths, and if he helps others, he hopes he’ll one day redeem himself.”
Rose digested that. Each brother had their own streak of honor. Toby might not have seen that streak in himself yet, but Rose was beginning to. He had a noble ambition for this land and harbored guilt about his mother and his family. Each one of the Dixon boys was making sacrifices for others, whether they realized it or not. But was Toby’s sacrifice enough? Dammit. As much as she wanted to bury her altercation with Howie, his reminders echoed in her mind that she was just Toby’s latest novelty.
“I made some calls today,” Toby continued, cutting off the direction of her thoughts. “I’ve got a mesquite problem, like most ranchers have. It’s a bitch to get rid of and kills everything around it. If I’m going to introduce grass, I’ve got to eradicate it.”
Rose nodded. Her father had had the same problem with mesquite. Good thing it was amazing for BBQ and smelled great in campfires.
“If I can finish clearing out my northern ten—that valley between Casas Grandes and the next hill over where we drove—” She nodded. “Then I can run some irrigation in there to get my project started. But just my boys and me aren’t enough, so I’ve hired a company to come in and lend a hand digging the roots out. Probably going to take several years to ensure we’ve got them all, since the roots just start sprouting new trees the moment they get chopped.”
He pointed to a plat of the Legacy’s vast property, to a particular dot drawn in an area between two demarcated plateaus. “I found a plains grass that’s evolved to arid climates. It’s similar to the types of grasses that used to grow here. I’ve been eyeballing this valley in between as a good place to test it out.” He made a series of gestures on the map, and Rose nodded. “It has a dry arroyo running through it that flash floods about once a year and runs off into Ghost Canyon. With some irrigation to kick-start growth, once the grass takes root I hope to wean it off of the artificial water supply and give it a few years to get good and adapted. I also contacted an elk rancher out in the hill country to discuss a meeting and some price quotes and to see his livestock. What do you think?”
Rose smiled, the sting of Howard’s ugliness dulling. Toby was serious. He’d mentioned this on their drive out to his ranch, but he’d spoken of it as some figment of the future, not an actual plan.
“I’m impressed, Doctor Dixon,” she said, and he harrumphed at the return of her playful side. “No, really. Do you think it would work?”
Toby nodded. “Grass in the ground would hold the soil together better, which would mitigate erosion. Deer would come naturally. Elk and deer would keep the grassland cut and fertilized. The one big concern is the predators, so I’d need to fence off the pasture rather than set cougar traps. But that should be the only other modification. And with the Junior Ranchers leasing a small patch of land and contracting the use of some of my herd, I can at least float this place until I find a new source of income. Maybe lease more land to a veterinary operation or something.”
Rose took his hand and squeezed it. “I think it’s all amazing.”
She looked at their hands, joined, as he continued to talk. “There’s more to it. I, uh, got a question for you.”
He left the statement hanging.
She raised her eyebrows. “So, you want to ask it?”
He chewed his cheek in that way she was starting to really love. He always did it when he felt like he was putting himself out there for her. As if he was nervous.
“You, uh, want to document the sun god site?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
He shrugged, then looked back at his plat, though she noticed him fighting the smile that wanted to capture his lips. Smug bastard. He knew she wouldn’t pass up a chance to extend field school for another summer once the panther shaman site was completed and take on the new rock shelter.
“Check it out, Indiana. See the canyon on the map there? The one that looks like a bullwhip?” His finger traced a meandering vein from north to south.
She snorted at the analogy, then nodded. “That’s Ghost Canyon.”
He chuckled and continued. “Well, each of these black dots represent a rock shelter with artifacts and pictographs—paintings. Sixteen total. The panther shaman site way down here and the fifteen others. You, uh…” He glanced sidelong at her. “You up for a one-of-a-kind project?”
Her jaw dropped. All notion of talking dried on her tongue. Was he suggesting she document…all of them? Her eyes sparkled with intrigue, and she leaned over the map, sliding aside her plate of food.
“You’re serious?” she asked again, excitement bubbling into her voice. “All sixteen sites?”