Excerpt from Desperado It was half past five on a humid July evening. Cody had been riding fence checking on his steers, a prospect which was depressing in this heat. Everything that required water to live was suffering. Surely the drought of five years ago had been a stunt Mother Nature wouldn't repeat this soon. No matter how hardy his steers were, he hated to think of the beef market bottoming out again. He knew several members of the farming community just might not be able to hang onto their livelihood for one more round of life-parching summer. He sat down in the kitchen, reaching for a glass of tea when someone knocked at the front door. Waiting a moment to see if his mother or his niece, Mary, would answer, Cody got up heavily and went to do it himself. The woman on his front porch took his breath away in a startling way. "Yes?" he demanded brusquely. She shifted, her grey eyes large in her face as she met his stare. "I'm looking for Cody Aguillar." "I'm Cody." He had never seen hair so wild, so purple. It was stuffed up under something made of a flowery velvet that might once have been a hat of sorts, but which now resembled a rag. He wondered why she wore such in this heat. "My name's Stormy Nixon. I have something I'd like to talk to you about." She seemed uncertain as to whether that was still the case. "Did Sloan . . . I mean, Sheriff McCallister call you to say that I was coming?" Cody shrugged. "Not that I know of. I've been out all day." "Oh. Well, I just left his office about thirty minutes ago. I got a little lost, or I would have been here sooner." Cody didn't know what to say to that. He looked over her head, which wasn't hard since she had to be all of about five-foot-two, and saw a compact rental car. "Your friends, Pick and Curvy, offered to bring me out here, but I wanted to come alone. Maybe I should have let them show me the way." "They're not my friends." At her perplexed expression, he said, "What can I do for you?" "I want to talk to you about a movie we're interested in doing here in Desperado." "I don't go to movies." Though her unusual appearance had caught his attention at first--particularly those wide-legged, flowing pants with the wild flower pattern--there was no reason for her to linger on his porch. He had more work to be done, and no time for movies. "I'm sorry. If you'll excuse me--" "Mr. Aguillar," she said quickly, "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. Sheriff McCallister, and um, Pick and Curvy, I do have that right, don't I?" He shrugged, promising himself to sternly lecture Pick and Curvy for sending a strange woman to his house. Those old men had nothing better to do than mind other folks' business. "Well," she said, exasperated now, "The sheriff, the mayor, and one other man seemed to think that you might be interested in letting Universal Studios make a movie on your land. You have heard of Universal Studios, haven't--" "Lady--" "Stormy Nixon," she inserted swiftly. "How do you do?" "I was doing just fine until you came along. Your time has been wasted, in a no doubt well-meaning way. I would not be interested in discussing any movie, even if it was being filmed on the moon, but I sure as hell am not remotely dumb enough to let my land be used for such a thing. You've been sent on a wild goose chase, and if I were you, I would head back down to see Curvy and Pick and tell them to think of someone else for you to play this little joke on." She drew herself up in astonished indignation. "I assure you, Mr. Aguillar, this is no joke." Reaching into an enormous flowered handbag which looked more like a gypsy travel sack, she pulled out a business card and handed it to him. "We would offer you a substantial amount of money for the use of your land. It would be for a short time, only a few months--" "I'm sorry." He handed the business card back. When she wouldn't take it, he slid it into the open mouth of the gypsy carpetbag. "I don't have a few months to spare. I have a ranch to run. Now, if you'll excuse me--" "Mr. Aguillar. Please. Won't you just hear me out?" Big grey-iris eyes gazed at him earnestly. The phone rang, cutting off any chance she might have to plead her case. "I'm sorry. Good night, ma'am." Silently, he closed the door and went to answer the phone. "Hello?" "Cody?" "Sloan. Tell me you did not send that woman to my house." "Oh, damn. Has she already been there?" "Hell, yes, and I just sent her on her way." "I got tied up with a--never mind. I meant to warn you she was coming." "Warning is right. Where the hell did she come from?" He'd never seen anyone quite like her. Sure, he was mighty used to blue jeans and boots on a woman, but he could go for a pair of decent pants or a church dress. What that tiny woman had been wearing, as she tottered on ridiculously high, purple sandaled feet, was so incongruous on his farm he'd had to work hard not to stare. It didn't bear remembering that her waist had been so small he could have wrapped one palm around her and carried her off. She'd had delicate face bones, and beautiful full lips...