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the knowledge. There had never been a moment when he’d thought of any other possibility. Someone called his name, and he stopped. Looking around, he spotted his father motioning for Chase to join him on the sidelines of the action. He walked his horse through the branding melee and reined in next to his father’s stud, pushing his hat to the back of his head.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œI want you to come back to the house with me for dinner tonight.” At the vague surprise that leaped into Chase’s eyes, his father explained, “Senator Bulfert is flying in around five. He’s having dinner and spending the night with us before going on to Helena in themorning. It’s time you had some firsthand experience with behind-the-scenes politicking.”
    â€œMore lessons?” A reckless quality entered Chase’s smile, revealing an amusement for the endless schooling by his father.
    â€œSo far, all you’ve learned are the basics,” Webb answered with total seriousness. “If you expect to successfully run this ranch someday, you have a long way to go.”
    On this subject, his father had no sense of humor. Straightening in the saddle, Chase pulled his hat down low on his forehead and wiped the smile from his face. “Yes, sir.”
    â€œI know you think this ranch practically runs itself.” Webb read the thoughts in his son’s mind. “But when the time comes for you to take over, you are going to have your hands full, because they are going to try to take it away from you.”
    â€œYou keep talking about this ‘they,’ but you never tell me who ‘they’ are.” Chase couldn’t imagine anyone threatening to take the ranch from him. How could they?
    â€œThat’s going to be your problem, discovering which one of your friends or neighbors is making a move against you. This ranch seems secure, but it’s vulnerable because it’s so big.” His features became tainted with a grim sadness. “Nobody really likes you when you’re big, son. Sometimes that is the hardest thing to realize … and accept.”
    It seemed to Chase that his father was exaggerating, but he held his silence. He’d learned long ago there was usually a great deal of truth in what his father said, no matter how skeptically he regarded it at the time.
    â€œI left the pickup parked at the pasture’s east gate. Nate will ride along with us and bring the horses.” Webb gathered his reins. “Let’s go. We don’t want to keep the senator waiting.”
    â€œYou have the senator in your pocket, and you know it,” Chase remarked dryly.
    His father just smiled. “If you have a man in your pocket, he’s usually pilfering.”
    Chuckling softly at his father’s wry wit, Chase followed along to meet up with Nate Moore on the near side of the herd. When the experienced ramrod noticed Chase, his gaze swung back to Webb.
    â€œYou never said I’d be losing a man. What’s the occasion?” he questioned, reining his horse alongside theirs.
    â€œThe senator is arriving to spend the night.”
    A dancing light entered the older cowboy’s eyes, although his expression didn’t change. “Old Bullfart is coming, huh?”
    â€œSenator Bulfert is coming, yes.” Webb stressed the senator’s proper name, but there was no censure in his tone.
    â€œI suppose it pays to have friends in high places,” Nate conceded, “even when they stink.”
    â€œI do my best to stay upwind from him so the smell never reaches me,” Webb replied and urged his horse into a reaching canter.
    Both Nate and Chase quickly followed suit to keep abreast with him, but never ahead. It was one of the unwritten laws of the range—never ride ahead of the boss.
    Five miles from the herd, cottonwoods thrust their greening heads onto the horizon, marking the river’s course. Their route was the