A Tradition of Pride by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online

holding them out to him.
    "Here," Rans said shortly. "Enough time's been wasted. Get back on that tractor and get this orchard plowed."
    Like Lara, John stared at him in stunned disbelief. With a surge of white-hot anger, Lara realized her explanation had meant nothing. She had been a fool to think she could reason with anyone as arrogantly confident as Ransom MacQuade. She had let herself be tricked into returning the key.
    The riding crop hung from a strap around her wrist. During the instant when John was too surprised to reach for the keys, her fingers closed around the leather whip. Driven by her flaming temper, Lara struck out with the short whip, lashing it across the, back of the outstretched hand that held the keys.
    Immediately they dropped from his fingers, falling onto the plowed sod. A hissing curse accompanied the abrupt spin by Rans in her direction, the chiseled features harsh with anger, Lara's breath was coming in uneven spurts, but her expression was completely composed, with a barely challenging, lift of her chin.
    The air crackled with high-voltage tension. Her gaze slid to the angry red welt across the back of his hand, the fingers doubled to form a fist. She was absently aware of John glancing hesitantly from one to the other. Rans had not forgotten his presence, either.
    "I left the keys in the truck, John,"' The smoldering glare of his eyes didn't leave Lara's face. "Drive it back to the sheds and report to Clive."
    Lara did not make the mistake of interpreting his order as an admission that he was going to allow Cato to plow the fields. Rans was getting rid of John so he wouldn't witness the argument that was to come. Lara had no doubt that the gloves of politeness would come off when John left. Burning anger raged through her veins. She was in no way intimidated by him.
    John spat again on the ground, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes. He was torn between two loyalties. He had known Lara for years and was reluctant to leave her alone with Rans MacQuade. At the same time, he didn't want to risk losing his job since the welfare of his growing family depended on the money he brought home.
    With an almost imperceptible nod of her head, Lara indicated that John should go. She was capable of fighting her own battles, even with an opponent as formidable as Rans MacQuade. Rans caught the exchange and his expression darkened as John walked toward the pickup truck parked at the gate.
    The bay horse snorted nervously. Reacting to the turbulent tension in the air, he tossed his head and tugged at the reins in Lara's hand. The heavy silence continued until the pickup truck door was opened and shut and the motor growled. Lara didn't give Rans an opportunity to take the initiative.
    "I don't believe you heard me correctly, Mr. MacQuade. Cato always does whatever plowing needs to be done on Alexander land. It is a longstanding tradition that not even you are going to stop."
    "Let's get this straight, Mrs. Cochran." His cold voice would have made an icicle shiver. "I am the one in charge now. It makes no difference to me if your father whimsically indulged a senile old man. I have no intention of wasting precious time while an eighty-two-year-old man todders up and down a field behind some overweight mules. My concern is getting the land ready for planting in the fastest and most efficient way possible."
    "What is time?" she flared. "It's a meaningless measurement. The ground, the trees, the wind, they have no conception of it. They are still here. They still exist. The efficient use of time is worthless if it means sacrificing the principles of human dignity." Green fires flashed in her eyes as she paused to catch her breath. "And you obviously have never spent any time with Cato to dismiss his worth so contemptuously. I assure you he does not todder, but strides with the physical ease that you do. His mules are always kept in condition. That's not fat but muscles you see."
    "It doesn't change anything.