Eagle Rock

By Fran Tabor

When Hollywood Veternarian Kila Kincaid inherits her brother's Montana ranch Eagle Rock, she plans to sell it, and remain a Civilized Californian.... Then she meets Blake Black Bear. Eagle Rock is love at first sight. Recognizing her love for Blake takes longer.

 

Facing the double dangers of love and death, Kila learns she has the heart of an avenging eagle.

 

Based on Larry Baer's screenplay, Eagle Rock

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaine's Dreams
• Release date: Oct 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215664421

Fran Tabor

Fran loves laughter, learning, talking and writing -- sometimes all at the same time. She is often interviewed on podcasts, such as https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8QLHmYgK9FE, where her part starts at 9:28. Fran Tabor helped found a Mom & Pop Brick & Mortar business in 1978. Its first years it grossed less than $20,000 per year. It has survived divorce, embezzlements, cutthroat competition, uninsured cancer, recessions and rapidly changing technologies. From 2003 onward, it has grossed over a Million per year every year.

Book preview

Eagle Rock

Based on the screenplay Eagle Rock By Larry Baer

Adapted by Fran Tabor

Note: All people mentioned are entirely fictional, although well-loved family members inspired many of the names.

Chapter 1

The Eagle’s claws are in my heart

From Kila Kincaid’s email:

Sent May 26

Sis, guess what they call May in Glacier Park? Winter! Going to the Sun Road still has 15’ of snow. But all is not lost. I still get to explore the wilds of western Montana, starting with Hwy. 2 going west out of Kalispell (a town only an hour south of Glacier). Tomorrow I’ll check out Kila, Montana. Yep, Kila. When I saw it on the map, I knew I had to get pictures of your namesake.

Kipp 

Sent May 27

Saw Kila today. Felt like I was in a Norman Rockwell world. Small school, kids playing in its playground, folks friendly. One suggested a nearby ranch where I could see a large elk herd (check out the attached pics!). While there, met Jake, one cool old man. Said he had a working cattle ranch. When I pointed out I didn’t see any cattle he asked what I did for a living. Told him I’m a veterinarian. He said he didn’t see me working on any animals. Said I was on vacation. He said his ranch was on vacation too, just waiting for the right person to get it back to work. We got to talking some more, he invited me in for coffee. You wouldn’t believe the stuff that old man knows about cattle, buffalo, elk, eagles...I feel like I wasted most of my class time at vet school. I could learn more just hanging around him. Going to see him again tomorrow,

Kipp

Sent June 5

Sis, have I been busy!

Remember how I told you I’ve no interest in foo-foo vet work like you do in Beverly Hills? Guess what? I’m going to hang up my shingle in Kila. Yep, your little brother is going to be a large animal specialist out here in Montana where men are men, and we got the BIG animals to prove it. Course it’ll only be part time as I’ll be a full time buffalo rancher.

You read that right—-a buffalo rancher, correction, American bison. But, as Jake pointed out, first few years of ranching can be downright unprofitable, so it’s a good thing I got a skill that’ll not only help me be a better rancher, but bring in some serious cash money. Jake’s selling me the ranch on good terms. We spent over an hour in his lawyer’s office setting it up so no matter what we’re both protected. I am buying Eagle Rock, the prettiest ranch in all Montana. Some might be bigger, but none more beautiful.

I’ll see you next week as planned, clean out my L.A. apartment and move all my worldly possessions to my new eighty years old ranch house.

Those riding lessons we took as kids will finally be put to use. Want to join me herding bison? Yippee-Ki-Yi-Yay!

Kipp

Two months later Kipp paused to admire the corral’s new gate; his finger’s stroked the smooth wood. He swung it open. The silent hinges let the gate glide easily into the recently repaired corral. First gate I ever built. Not bad. Compulsive honesty made him add, even speaking silently to himself, but it wouldn’t have looked & worked so perfectly if Old Jake hadn’t walked me through every step.

Jake had made it his personal mission to make sure Kipp did everything in the right order. Barn, corral, feed, water, fencing, then critters. Your home comes last. Your first vacation comes after your final payment to me, or to my estate.

Kipp had answered, You’re as tough as the rocks in these mountains. I’ll be making that last payment to you.

That very evening Old Jake had fallen off the roof of his home. When Kipp heard the news he felt like he had lost his own father all over again. ... An eighty something old man shouldn’t have been up there to begin with... Wouldn’t have been if I’d been there to help him.

Why didn’t he tell me his roof needed patching?

Jake’s son had explained it was easy for Jake to help others, but not so easy to admit he needed help. The truth didn’t make the loss any easier.

Kipp’s hand gripped the gate tightly; he swung the gate one more time. So smooth. Don’t worry, Jake, I’ll wake this ranch up from its little vacation, raise bison on it just like we talked. Make it run as smooth as our gate swings.

He walked over to the bale feeder inside the corral, double checked to make sure it was ready to go. His new shipment of over-sized, four-strand hay bales had been dropped off just outside the corral. All Kipp needed to do was get a few ton of hay into the corral, then onto the feeder, which would convey it up to the ancient barn’s loft. Fortunately, a John Deer tractor, which Jake had bought second hand from a neighbor over thirty years earlier, was included with the ranch.

When Jake had told how he’d bought the tractor, he finished with Never buy new. Let others do that foolishness.

It will be a long time before everything here stops reminding me of that old man.

Leaving the gate open, he started the tractor up. It spluttered into noisy life. Front end loaders and a grapple were mounted on it. Grabbing a top bale, he guided the ancient tractor into the corral, stopping just short of the loader. The bale still suspended, he jumped down, ran under the bale, and, using his long-handled wire cutters, cut the bright orange twine from the bale. That done, he jumped back onto the tractor and released the bale onto the loader.

Only ten bales later, he’d removed his shirt. Harsh sunlight glistened off the sweat rivulets running down his back. Kipp kept working.

So you’re the man who bought my ranch.

Startled, Kipp almost dropped his cutters. He stepped out from under the bale.

A tall man, dressed in a custom-cut western suit, complete with suede leather jacket and coordinated cowboy hat, stood just outside the corral; a double cab, long box pickup truck parked behind him. Sunlight danced on its metal-flecked paint.

Kipp asked, Your ranch?

The ranch I’ve dreamed of buying since I was a boy. Thought I had bought. Turns out Jake’s kids didn’t have as much control over this ranch, or the old man, as they thought they did. Jake did what he wanted, how he wanted, when he wanted. You had already signed the papers on it before his son could tell him about my better offer.

Kipp stood, silent.

Sorry, should introduce myself. I’m Bob Hunter, and you are Kipp Kincaid.  He leaned on the corral, rested a foot on the bottom rung. When he did, that pant leg rode up, revealing a well-tooled crocodile skin cowboy boot.

Kila has boots just like his, except hers have six inch spike heels. Kipp smiled, picturing Bob Hunter’s boots with six inch spikes like the ones on his sister’s night-clubbing dress boots.

Misinterpreting Kipp’s smile, Bob smiled back. You’ve already made the place look better. I never understood why Jake’s kids wanted nothing to do with ranching, but at least it’s now being fixed up again. Bet you’re just discovering how much work, and money, it’s going to take to fix up this old place.

Bob paused, waiting for Kipp to reply, give him direction how to proceed next. Kipp remained silent. Bob continued, Heard you’re from L.A., and a veterinarian.

Kipp nodded yes.

Bob said, I won’t beat around the bush. Like I said, it was a childhood dream to someday own Eagle Rock.  I’d finally made it to the point I could offer Jake a decent cash price. I can offer it to you. You’ll make a nice profit, more than enough to compensate for all the labor you’ve already put into this place, and to set up the best vet clinic in the valley.

Not interested.

Bob scrutinized the weathered barn with its almost-hanging door. He glanced at outbuildings that looked as though they’d surrender to the next breeze and collapse into the ground they matched. Does he really know just how much hard labor is in store for him? He’s a city boy still riding under romantic notions of what it means to be a real Montana rancher. He’ll want out sooner than he thinks.

Bob reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulled out a gold case, opened it; removed a business card. Here’s my card. Call if you should change your mind.

Keep your card, Mr. Hunter. See this hay? I’m not storing it for me to eat. I’m staying.

For the first time, Bob Hunter really saw the young California man standing before him, noticed something in his eyes he was not use to seeing in out-of-staters. Who would have thought...He put the card back into its case, looked Kipp in the eye, Guess you don’t even want to hear my offer?

Nope.

Bob nodded. I was right about what I saw in his eyes. He said that just like Old Man Jake did when I made him that last insanely high offer. No wonder Jake sold to him. Kipp’ll keep struggling as long as there is a breath of life in him. You’ve work to do, and I’m taking up daylight. Bob held out his hand to Jake.

At first hesitating, Kipp wiped his grimy hand off on his Levis, stepped forward, and shook Bob’s hand.

Kipp watched Bob’s truck disappear behind the tall ponderosa pines that grew along the curving dirt road that led up to the ranch. A trailing dust cloud lingered in the air. Satisfied his unwanted visitor was gone; Kipp turned back to his work, reached up and cut the twine from the large hay bale.

Hours later almost three fourths of the hay been stashed in the barn’s loft. The corral’s posts cast long shadows onto the hard ground. As Kipp reached with exhausted arms to cut the twine from the bale above him, he wondered if he shouldn’t call it a day.

A movement against the barn wall caught his attention. Turning, he saw a shadow of a man wearing a cowboy hat. Kipp said, Why are...

Kipp never finished the sentence. A weathered two by four hit him across the side of his head. He crumpled to the ground. Dazed, he attempted to get up.

His assailant, already on the tractor, worked the controls. The dangling hay bale fell; it smashed against Kipp’s prone body.

Kipp, struggling beneath the weight, attempted to breathe the dusty, hay-laden air. His one free hand clawed grooves into the hardened earth.

His hand stopped moving.

The assailant dismounted from the tractor, walked over to Kipp and kicked him.

Kipp’s lifeless body did not react.

Good.

Kipp’s attacker left.

Chapter Two

His talons are in my soul

Two days later, Kila Kincaid and Jackie Craine entered Benson’s Veterinary Clinic, the most prestigious pet care service in Beverly Hills, California, via its alley entrance.

The drab alley door opened into the employee break room.  One wall had a clothing rod from which hung about two dozen sparkling white lab coats. An ancient steel table, even older folding chairs, and a short counter holding a mug tree, coffee pot and small microwave finished off the pedestrian room.

Jackie said, It’s been two days since you’ve heard from Kipp? I thought that since he bought that ranch, he’d been sending you daily updates.

He’s probably just busy with fencing and corralling and all that other ranch stuff he’s so excited about, Kila answered. Hi, Jonathon.

Dr. Jonathon Benson, the clinic’s sole owner, leaned against the interior door frame, arms folded across his chest. It’s about time you two returned. Hurry up. Put on your smocks. My office. Now. He left.

Kila and Jackie looked at each other, rolling their eyes. They put on their lab coats.

Each had her name embroidered on her coat in a discrete dark gray. A bright red outline of a heart was centered beneath each name. Black letters, like an arrow piercing a valentine, spelled out ‘Benson Veterinary Clinic.’

Jonathon required enough lab coats to be able to change into a new one for every patient should it ever be necessary, and a fresh one after lunch even if it wasn’t.

They followed Jonathon to his office.

When the passageway turned a sharp corner, it was though they were in a different building.  The lower part of the walls had mahogany paneling, the upper part a pale cream wall paper. Large, ornately framed oil paintings lined the walls. At the other end of the hall, you could see the edge of the plush, salon-like waiting room.

They entered their boss’s office.

The women each had an office modeled after Jonathon’s, only about a third the size. Glass-covered bookshelves, each filled with references, lined three walls.  Diplomas and certificates filled the wall behind his desk.

Kila couldn’t help frowning at the shelves. Jon’s wrong about the image all those books convey! We never use those bulky tomes any more. If anything needs checking we rely on the internet. Latest info and so much quicker.  Aloud she said, What’s up?

Jonathon pulled a box out from under his desk. In it were several small foil packets. They came today! Alice already has a full supply in the reception area.

He passed the box to them. The packets were labeled ‘Cat Fun Enhancers’, ‘Cat Mood Elevators’, ‘Canine Treats’, and ‘Doggie Mellows.’  On each packet, an outline of a bright red heart surrounded the logo ‘Designed with love for the best loved pet...YOURS’.  At the bottom of each were the words ‘Another quality product custom designed by Dr. Jonathon Benson Just for YOU.’

Jonathon continued, "We want to find a personal reason to recommend one of these free sample packets to each and every client. Alice has small boxes for sale; larger quantities are