Читать книгу Return To Marker Ranch - Claire McEwen - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOU NEVER MENTIONED that Wade Hoffman was back.” The words escaped the moment Lori stepped into the coffee-scented kitchen. She hadn’t meant to say them. But dreams of Wade had haunted her all night.

Mandy’s big blue eyes went even wider. “I didn’t know he was back.”

“Well, he is.” Lori told her sister, “Right down the road, trying to get Marker Ranch up and running.”

“I had no idea.” Mandy went to the coffeepot and filled two mugs. She held one out. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.” Lori took the cup but couldn’t let the topic go. “But you’re the one who goes to town all the time. You do our shopping and you bake for people. You’re constantly trying to talk people into adopting some stray animal or another... How can you not have heard the juiciest piece of gossip to hit the town of Benson in years?”

Mandy sighed. “I don’t know... I guess I’m not one for gossip. You know me...” Mandy’s sentence trailed off, and she looked away, out the kitchen window.

Lori didn’t need her to finish the sentence because she knew how it ended. Mandy was quiet—living in her own world of sweet domesticity. She’d been that way ever since their mom had died, and when Lori tried to talk to her about it, she always got that same line. You know me... I’m just quiet.

Which wasn’t really true. Mandy hadn’t always been quiet. She’d been bubbly and happy, a typical adolescent girl. But Mandy had been with their mom riding in the mountains on the day she died. Mom’s horse had startled, rearing up and throwing her off sideways with her foot still caught in the stirrup. She’d been dragged. By the time Mandy caught the horse, it was too late. All these years later and that bubbly, happy girl had never come back.

But Mandy wasn’t unhappy. Just different. She spent her days concocting amazing things in the big farmhouse kitchen. Her baking was out of this world. Lori grabbed a muffin off the cooling rack and bit in. The cinnamon and walnuts were rich and a little tangy on her tongue. “Hey, if the ranch goes under, maybe you could open a bakery and support us. These are incredible.”

Mandy’s cheeks went pink. “They’re okay. I’m still working out the kinks in the recipe. But is it that bad with the ranch? Are we going under?”

Lori’s protective instincts kicked in. “We’re just fine. But if this drought doesn’t end soon, it’s going to get harder.”

“You’ll make it work,” Mandy assured her. “And if I can do anything to help, let me know.”

It was a generous offer. Mandy avoided most of the ranch animals, except for the chickens she raised in the gorgeous coop she’d coaxed their father into building. Those creatures lived in ridiculous luxury under her care.

Instead of ranch work, she’d taken on all the domestic chores—which suited Lori fine. Without Mandy, Lori would probably be eating baked beans out of a can—she was that clumsy in a kitchen. For her, cooking meant burning things, breaking things and always wishing she were outside in the fresh air with the horses and cattle.

Mandy went to the sink to wash her hands. Lori watched her adorable china doll of a sister, wondering if she should be worried about her. They’d both had to grow up fast. Their dad had been so devastated by his wife’s death that he could barely function. That’s when Mandy took over all the house chores so Lori could take on more responsibility around the ranch.

And as the years went by and Dad’s depression didn’t really lift... Well, that changed Lori, too. She could see how much he needed a new start. How badly he wanted to go somewhere else, where memories of his beloved wife weren’t waiting for him around every corner.

But her dad had also made it clear he wouldn’t let Lori take over the ranch until she’d finished college and apprenticed herself under him for several years. So Lori had pushed hard to get through school quickly so she could work with him on the ranch full-time. And now here she was. In charge of Lone Mountain while Dad sent palm-tree postcards from his new home in Florida.

Mandy interrupted her musings. “You’d have known about Wade being back if you left this ranch once in a while.”

Lori glanced at her sister, who’d pulled the cloth off a bowl of bread dough and was kneading briskly. “What do you mean?” Lori tried to remember the last time she’d been in town. “I leave the ranch.”

“When?” Mandy asked. “And going to the feed store doesn’t count. That’s still work.”

Lori shrugged. “I left a couple days ago to yell at Wade. He’s sunk a well above ours, up by the northern edge of the ranch. And now we have no water for the pastures up there.”

Mandy’s pale skin got paler. “That’s horrible, Lori. I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to figure out what to do. Bill says we should just share the water from the new well, but I can’t imagine Wade will be happy about that.”

“You don’t know until you ask.”

“I don’t want to ask.” The knot coiled again in Lori’s stomach at the thought. She shouldn’t have to beg for water. Not from anyone. Definitely not from Wade.

“I know you had some kind of crush on him in high school, but that was ages ago.” Mandy covered the dough again and opened a carton of eggs, cracking them briskly into a pan on the stove.

Lori wished it had stayed a crush. She’d never told Mandy about what happened. About sleeping with him. About the pregnancy. About how she’d handled it. She probably never would. It would upset her sister too much. And the telling would bring no relief. “It’s not that. When I talked to him about the well, I might have gotten a little upset. Said a few things I shouldn’t have.”

“That’s not like you. It goes right back to what I was saying before. You need some time off. A few hours away from this ranch. I can see the responsibility weighing you down. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but let’s go out this weekend. I saw Sunny at the store yesterday. She mentioned that she’s meeting Heather and Tina for drinks on Saturday. She invited us to join them.”

Lori stared. “Who are you, and what did you do with my sister? You hate bars.”

“I know you won’t go on your own.” Mandy turned off the stove and scooped scrambled eggs onto a flowered plate. She handed it to Lori. “If ever someone needed a night out, it’s you. Taking on the ranch has been a huge job. You don’t tell me much, but I know it’s been hard.”

Lori sighed. “It’s just the guys, you know? They question everything I do. They wouldn’t do that if I were a man. It bugs me. It’s so weird to have worked here almost my whole life only to realize that no one’s on my side.”

“I think it’s just an adjustment. They’ll see how amazing you are once they get used to Dad being gone. And I’m on your side. You can talk to me about anything. I’ll try to help wherever I can. Like by taking you drinking on Saturday night.”

Lori smiled. It was just too funny, her homebody little sister trying to get her to go out drinking. It was probably the last thing on earth that Mandy really wanted to do. How could she say no? “You’re right. We should go out. Tell Sunny we’ll be there.”

“And you need to apologize to Wade if you really were out of line. Eat some humble pie. It won’t kill you, and you just might talk him into sharing his well.”

Sometimes Mandy reminded her so much of their mom. Lori’s heart ached a little. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and smiled when her sister giggled.

“You know I’m right,” Mandy retorted.

“I hate humble pie,” Lori grumbled, poking at her eggs with her fork.

“I’ll make you a peach one when you get home,” Mandy offered. “To take away the bitter taste.”

“That’s a nice offer.” But even Mandy’s prize-winning peach pie wasn’t sweet enough to take away the bitterness that Wade Hoffman brought with him when he came home to Marker Ranch.

* * *

IT’S ONLY GROCERY SHOPPING, Wade reminded himself. People do it every day. You get your wallet and step out of the truck and go into the store and shop. But he stayed where he was, white knuckles on the steering wheel, because shopping wasn’t simple anymore.

First of all, now that he was back in Benson, he never knew what kind of reception he’d get. Some places he went, people were fairly friendly. But there was still plenty of suspicion attached to the Hoffman name. He was tailed at the pharmacy as if the clerk thought he was going to run off with all the cold medicine. And whenever he went into the bank, the security guard provided a personal escort for his entire visit. A special perk they provided just for Hoffmans, apparently.

And then there was PTSD. Combat had messed with his perceptions. A loud noise like a motorcycle could suddenly sound like a machine gun. And once he heard it, he’d be on the floor, rolling for shelter, regardless of where he was or who was nearby.

Wade pried his fingers off the steering wheel and exited the cab. Leaning on his ancient truck, he stared at the Blue Water Mercantile. Its weathered sign with a grinning fish jumping into the air was a vintage monument to the 1960s. The Blue Water was out on the outskirts of Benson and far less crowded than the market downtown. But despite all that, Wade was on edge. He just kept imagining himself perusing the aisles, a shopping basket on his arm, and a Harley going by on nearby Highway 395. The Benson gossips would have a field day talking about how poor Wade Hoffman hit the decks, firing a baguette like it was an M60.

He had to man up. A guy who couldn’t even go buy a few groceries was pathetic. Plus, it was early, so he shouldn’t have to worry too much about loud noises. His sister, Nora, who was hell-bent on fixing his PTSD, had advised him to shop in the morning, before things got busy. He had no excuse. It was time to find some courage and buy some food.

He shoved himself away from his pickup and strode to the market door, only to find it locked. He shook it once before realizing the sign read Closed. Feeling foolish, he pulled out his cell phone and glanced at the time. Seven o’clock. Sleep had eluded him last night, so he’d rolled out of bed at first light, relieved to be free of the nightmares that plagued him. But he hadn’t realized it was still so early. Guess that was what happened when his day started at 5 a.m.

Frustrated, he turned to go, wondering what to do with himself in the hour before the store opened. The tinkling of a bell behind him had him turning to face Dan Sanders, the store owner.

“Wade, you’re up early today.”

He could feel his face flush. He was a former army ranger. Since when did he blush like a girl? “Yeah...sorry to bother you. Didn’t realize quite how early it was.”

“Why don’t you come on in?” Dan asked. “You can get your shopping done now. It’s fine. And I’ve got coffee brewing if you want some.”

“Thanks,” Wade said, following the older man into the shop. Dan had thick gray hair and a kind smile. He’d always been good to Wade and Nora, slipping them food and sweets when they were young and their dad forgot to feed them.

He accepted the cup of coffee Dan handed him and sipped it black. Its sharp taste was just what he needed to wipe away the last few cobwebs of the night before.

“How’s everything out at the ranch?” Dan asked. He had a ledger open on the counter. Wade must have interrupted his bookkeeping.

“Coming along, slowly,” Wade answered. And knowing he needed to make some small talk, he asked, “How’s business?”

“Doing better,” Dan answered. “It used to be that most of my customers were tourists, and fishermen getting supplies. But I’m getting more locals these days. I’ve improved my produce section. I’m trying to give the Downtown Market a run for its money.”

Wade smiled, feeling a little more at ease with the chitchat. “It’s nicer here. Way too crowded at the Downtown.”

“That’s what folks have been telling me,” Dan answered. “And speaking of that, I had a talk with your sister a while back.”

Wade’s sense of dignity went on alert. He was Nora’s little brother, and she would go to great lengths to help him out. “Do I want to know what she said?”

Dan laughed. “Well, she’s a little worried about you, I think. And I get it. I fought in Vietnam. I know what it’s like to come home from a war. Getting used to civilian life again is tough.”

Wade shifted his weight uneasily. He wasn’t used to talking like this. Not to someone like Dan. Not to anyone, really, except lately to Nora and Todd. And Dr. Miller. “It’s kind of a challenge,” he admitted. “And starting up the ranch was a crazy idea. I’m learning pretty quickly that I’ve got a lot to learn.”

Dan laughed. “Don’t worry. I almost bankrupted this business a few times when I first started out. There’s a big learning curve when you try something new.”

Wade nodded. “Thanks for the sympathy.” But he didn’t really want more of it. It just didn’t sit well. Maybe it was just his pride talking, but now that he knew his mind didn’t work as well as it used to, pride was all he had left. “I’ll just get my groceries, then.”

He started down the aisles, filling his basket with soups and pasta and other staples. And a baguette that, thankfully, he never mistook for an M60. Then he was back at the counter and Dan was ringing him up.

Wade was just starting to feel relieved that they weren’t going to have any more personal conversations when Dan handed him his receipt and said, “You know, when I first got back from ’Nam, loud noises bugged me a lot. And crowds.” He sighed as if reliving the memory. “Honestly, pretty much everything bugged me. So if you want to come here early, before the store opens, and do your shopping like you did today, that’s no problem.”

“Thanks,” Wade muttered, touched and mortified by Dan’s kindness. Was his PTSD that obvious? Could everyone see it? He grabbed his bag. “I appreciate that.”

“And if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here. I’ll probably understand. It’s an adjustment, Wade. Sometimes it helps to have someone who’s been through it on your side.”

Wade squared his shoulders. He was an army ranger, dammit. Not some emotional ponytailed dude like Dan who wanted to talk about his feelings. “I’m doing good, Dan. I appreciate the offer, though, truly.” Raising his cup of coffee in a brief salute, Wade pushed through the door into the crisp morning air. He could do this. He could shop and ranch and overcome this PTSD thing on his own. He had to. He’d come home to Benson to resurrect the Hoffman ranch and make his family name stand for something much finer than it had before. And that wasn’t going to happen if he sat around telling sob stories with Dan Sanders at the Blue Water Mercantile.