Читать книгу Loving A Lonesome Cowboy - Debbi Rawlins - Страница 10

Ethan Slade parked his old pickup in front of Manny’s General Store, ignoring the stares and whispers of the midday crowd as he climbed out and headed for the post office. Most folks wouldn’t expect to see him in town so close to Christmas, and they all had to be wondering what he was doing here. But other than a nod or a brief greeting, no one said a word. They wouldn’t. Not when he employed most of their brothers, sons and fathers.

The responsibility of owning the second-largest ranch in Central New Mexico, which made him the town’s major employer, was one of two reasons that kept him here.

The other was Emily’s grave.

Simon Whitefeather looked up from the mail he was sorting and his black eyes immediately narrowed over his wire-rimmed reading glasses. “Mornin’, Ethan, what brings you into town? Weren’t you here just five months ago?”

Ethan slowly nodded. “I’m out of supplies. Any mail for me in the back?”

“Nope. Sam picked up the ranch mail two days ago, bills and catalogues mostly.” Simon frowned and scratched his balding head. “Seems to me Billy Bob has a telegram for you. Unless he already got it to you?” When Ethan shook his head, Simon added, “It came about two or three days ago. He said he was going to run it out to the ranch.”

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. Who the hell would be sending him a telegram? Jenna. It had to be his kid sister. He wondered what kind of scrape she’d gotten into now. It seemed that was the only time he heard from her anymore.

“I told him he’d have to leave it with Sam. I figured you’re still living out at the caretaker’s shack.”

“Thanks, Simon.” Ethan had known the older man a long time. They’d met near Miller’s Creek when Ethan and Sam were only six. Simon had taught them how to swim. Ethan knew Simon would respect his desire not to have Billy Bob Simms or anyone else nosing anywhere near the shack.

“Can’t swear he’ll listen. I heard he’s bucking for a job at the Double S.”

“Things are slow this time of year. I doubt Sam needs an extra hand.” Even though Ethan owned the place, he rarely interfered with the way Sam ran things. He preferred mending fences, herding strays, preserving his solitude. “How’s Martha doing?”

“Complaining about her arthritis in one breath, and that I don’t take her anywhere in the other. Women. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand ’em.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Ethan stooped to pick up a plastic snowman that had fallen off the counter. He stuck it next to the Santa sitting in the middle of the cotton snow, then headed toward the door. “Tell her I said to take care of herself.”

“Ethan?”

Reluctantly he stopped at the door, wishing like hell he hadn’t come to town today. Thirty years of friendship made him turn around. “Yeah?”

“Martha keeps asking when you’re coming to dinner.”

He exhaled slowly. “I’ve been pretty busy lately….”

“You gotta be taking Christmas off. She roasts a mean goose.”

“I don’t think—”

“She serves it with her homemade cranberry sauce. That took the County Fair blue ribbon three years in a row.”

Ethan half smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” Their gazes met, understanding and sympathy in Simon’s eyes. Ethan had to look away. “There won’t be anyone there but us, and of course, Sam’s invited, too.”

“Thanks, Simon, I’ll let you know.” Ethan opened the door and stepped outside, grateful for the brisk winter air.

He inhaled a lungful, then turned up the collar of his jacket in deference to the chill nipping at his neck. No way would he go to the Whitefeathers’ house for Christmas. Holidays were still too painful. Emily should have been here sharing them with him, having his children, growing old with him. Not buried under six feet of cold ground.

He swallowed and adjusted his Stetson before heading toward Manny’s store. After Ethan picked up several month’s supply of canned goods and toiletries, he’d have to go find out about that telegram. He doubted Sam had it. If he did, he would have run it over to Ethan right away. Sam was a lot more than his foreman, he was the best friend a man could have.

Just outside Manny’s, Billy Bob hollered Ethan’s name, then ran across the street, nearly getting run over by a white Jeep Wrangler.

He waved an envelope. “I saw your truck. Figured I’d catch up with you sooner or later. I got a telegram here for you from Jenny.” He handed it to Ethan, then dragged his sleeve across his red, runny nose. “What is it she’s calling herself these days?”

“Jenna.” Ethan started to tear open the telegram, then frowned at Billy Bob, whose gaze was glued to the envelope. Ethan dug into his pocket, came up with a five-dollar bill and put it in Billy’s hand. “Thanks, kid.”

“Gee, thank you, Mr. Slade.” He waited for Ethan to open it.

“Don’t you have something else to do?”

The young man’s eyes lifted to Ethan’s expressionless face and widened slightly. “Yeah, sure.” Billy Bob took a step back and shrugged. “If you wanna answer it, I guess you’ll let me know.”

“I reckon I will.” He didn’t go back to tearing the envelope until Billy turned to leave.

“Oh, Mr. Slade?”

Ethan looked up.

“They just opened one of those big supermarkets over in Andersonville,” Billy said, with a small sheepish smile. “My mom tells me they have a real nice floral section year round. You know, for…when…”

Ethan stiffened slightly. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

“No problem.” The young man met Ethan’s eyes for a moment, then he shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled away.

“Hey, Billy.”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“If you’re needing a part-time job, go see Sam. Tell him I sent you.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Slade.”

Ethan nodded, then headed down the opposite end of the sidewalk while he fished the telegram out of the envelope. He stopped suddenly and stared at his sister’s message in stunned disbelief.

Even the rousing chorus of Deck the Halls coming from Manny’s store couldn’t drown out Ethan’s involuntary curse.

SARA CONROY zipped the front of her daughter’s jacket, then adjusted Misty’s thick wool scarf to make sure her neck was covered.

“It’s not cold enough to wear all this stuff, Mom.” Misty scowled as she tried to loosen the scarf.

“It will be once we get outside.” Silently, Sara agreed. The weather wasn’t cold enough yet to warrant wool, but she’d expected milder New Mexico to have colder weather. Besides, she’d brought precious few clothes, only what she’d been able to sneak out of the house, and the scarf would have to do.

“Can’t I just put it on later if I need it?”

Sara looked into her five-year-old’s pleading blue eyes and relented. A little nippy air wasn’t going to harm Misty. Especially not after what Sara had put the child through in the past month. “Okay, but if I say it’s too cold, you put it on immediately with no argument.”

Misty grinned and yanked off the scarf.

When she tossed it on the bed, Sara gathered it up before letting them out of the small motel room and making sure the rickety lock had engaged behind them. The motel she’d chosen was rundown and shabby, but it seemed safe enough, especially in a small town like Sedina. Anyway, it wasn’t fear of strangers that kept her looking over her shoulder, or double-checking locks.

She took Misty’s hand as they walked the short distance to town, hoping that the apple and cheese and crackers she’d given her daughter for lunch would stay with her until they returned. Until Sara got a job and padded their meager nest egg, there’d be no more restaurant meals for them.

After two attempts to get Misty to talk, they ended up making the five-minute walk in silence. Although her daughter had always been a shy quiet child, Sara had noticed an increased withdrawal since they’d left Dallas, and she tried not to push.

It was difficult, though, because even while she knew they’d done the right thing by leaving, she felt horrible guilt. Especially when Misty’s eyes lit up when they passed store windows, displaying all the latest toys for Christmas. There was no way Sara would be able to afford the kind of lavish Christmas Misty was used to, and if no one answered Sara’s ad soon, they could very well be spending Christmas morning in the train station.

Shivering at the thought, she hurried them toward Della’s House of Beauty and one of two bulletin boards where she’d placed her ad. She stared in dismay. Below the neatly printed offer of holiday housecleaning, she’d included a row of easy-to-tear-off strips with the motel’s phone number. Not a single one had been taken.

She swallowed hard, then forced a smile for Misty. “Okay, let’s walk over to Manny’s store.”

“Can I have an ice-cream sundae?”

“It’s too cold for ice cream, honey.” And ice cream was too expensive. But at Misty’s disappointed expression, Sara added, “How about a cherry sucker?”

Her daughter lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”

“Come on.” She ruffled Misty’s strawberry-blond curls, then tugged her down the sidewalk. “That’s your favorite.”

Manny’s was crowded today, and several people stood near the door talking and blocking Sara’s view of the bulletin board. When she finally ducked in close enough to see, her heart fell. Again, no one had taken a single phone number.

She shouldn’t be disappointed or surprised, she told herself. In a town this small and remote, people probably didn’t hire domestic help. Sara herself hadn’t grown up with that kind of luxury. It wasn’t until she’d married Cal that she’d had a maid to make her bed each morning and a cook to provide their meals.

Now, she’d give anything for the opportunity to scrub someone else’s floor. It would mean a Christmas tree and presents for Misty.

“Come on, kiddo, let’s go get that sucker I promised you.” She gave her daughter a bright smile, then froze when she saw a man stop at the bulletin board and finger her ad.

He was tall, slim, his hair dark and kind of long, what she could see of it under his black Stetson. The blue denim jacket he wore was faded nearly gray, his jeans were well-worn and so were his boots.

After staring at the ad for a moment, he withdrew a piece of paper from an envelope, read it, then looked at the ad again. Although his posture was straight and proud, there was a slight slump to his shoulders that gave him an air of defeat. When he reached out and tore off one of the strips with her phone number, her heart thudded.

“I thought we were going to buy my sucker.”

Sara glanced at her daughter, then tugged her closer, her gaze shooting back to the man. “We will, honey, in just a minute.”

When he turned around, Sara bowed her head slightly and averted her eyes. It wouldn’t do to have a prospective employer see her spying on him. She waited until he started to pass them and briefly gave him a sideways glance.

She was only quick enough to catch his profile and the fact that he was badly in need of a shave. What ultimately drew her attention was the wide berth others seemed to give him and the stares and whispers in his wake.

Great. She finally had a hot prospect and he was probably the town ax murderer. She sighed. She sure knew how to attract the misfits, just like honey drew flies.

She watched him walk away, surprised at the slight stirring in her chest when he stopped and one side of his mouth lifted at two little girls. He tipped his Stetson to them and they giggled, then ran off.

Just then Judy Hawkins, who owned the corner diner, came out of Manny’s. Sara had gotten to know her a little when she and Misty had first come to town and they could afford to eat there twice a day.

“Hi, Sara, Misty.” Judy shifted her grocery bag to her other arm. “I haven’t seen you two this past week.”

“I’ve been dieting.” Sara shrugged, too embarrassed to admit the truth. She was almost broke.

Judy let out a howl of laughter. “Lose another ounce and you’ll be wearing Misty’s clothes.”

Misty made a face. “We didn’t bring that much.”

Sara squeezed her daughter’s hand. Now wasn’t the time for her suddenly to get talkative. “See that man over there?” Sara nodded toward the guy who’d seemed interested in her ad, already turning the corner. “Do you know who he is?”

Judy craned her neck and frowned. “The one who just disappeared down Second Street? Looked like Ethan Slade, except he doesn’t come to town much any more.” Judy stared curiously at Sara. “Did he have dark hair, brown eyes and a deep cleft in his chin?” Sara nodded. “That’s Ethan, all right, nice piece of man flesh, but you don’t want to get mixed up with him.”

Heat climbed Sara’s face at the implication in the older woman’s tone. She should set the record straight, tell Judy why she’d asked about him, but pride held Sara back. “It’s not what you think—”

A horn blasted, and Judy’s gaze shot toward the street. “There’s my ride. See you at the diner, huh?”

Sara nodded and watched her hurry toward the dirty white sedan. Since she only knew Judy casually, it was difficult to read her expression, but in spite of her warning, Judy hadn’t seemed afraid of or horrified by the man. There had almost been a trace of sympathy in her eyes.

Sara’s gaze strayed toward the corner of Second and Main. Still, Judy had said not to get mixed up with him, and the last thing Sara needed was any more trouble. As much as she hated to, instinct told her she’d better let this opportunity slide….

“Come on, Mom.” Misty tugged at her hand, and Sara snapped out of her trance.

“Okay, we’ll go get your sucker, and let’s pick up another jar of peanut butter.”

Misty made a face.

Sara brushed the bangs out of her eyes. “I thought that was your favorite?”

“Not every day.”

Sara flinched. “I know, sweetie. We’ll look for something else, too, okay?”

They passed a newspaper stand on the way into the store and Sara made a mental note to pick up a paper even though she already knew there weren’t many jobs available that would allow her to keep Misty with her. But it didn’t look like her ad was paying off, and she would have to do something soon.

In the corner, just past the two clerks busily ringing up sales, a man collected toys for the needy. His box overflowed with brightly wrapped presents and some dolls and trucks that weren’t wrapped.

“Oh, Mommy.” Misty’s eyes widened, and she tugged on Sara’s hand. “Can I have that doll with the long red braid?”

Sara smiled down at her. “Sorry, honey, but those things are for the poor and homeless.”

Misty looked up, her big blue eyes full of innocence. “But that’s us, isn’t it, Mommy?”

Sara blinked, her head suddenly growing so light that she thought she might pass out. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she bent down and gave Misty a hug. “Come on, baby, we have to hurry back to the motel.”

She hoped she hadn’t already missed Ethan Slade’s call.

HAVING TO GO to town two days in a row had Ethan in a foul mood. All because of Jenna. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on his sister. He didn’t care that he hadn’t seen her in six years, he was going to wring her neck anyway.

He steered the truck into the motel parking lot and squinted at the numbers on the orange doors, looking for the room number Sara Conroy had given him over the phone. There was an empty parking stall in front of number six and as soon as he pulled in and turned off the engine, the door opened. A petite woman with reddish-blond hair stepped outside, and quietly closed the door behind her.

She gave him a shy smile, then rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans while she waited for him to walk around the front of the pickup.

“Mr. Slade?”

He nodded. “Ethan.”

“I’m Sara Conroy,” she said, offering him her hand.

It trembled slightly in his grasp, and although her blue eyes met his steadily, wariness darkened them.

“You’re awfully young.”

She blinked and pulled back her hand. “That has nothing to do with how well I can clean. Besides, I’m not that young.”

Ethan rubbed the side of his jaw. He supposed that was true, except he didn’t know that some pretty young gal would want to do the dirty job that he had in mind. Besides, she was little, and there was going to be some lifting involved in restoring the house.

Still, he figured he was lucky to find someone at this late date, and that she was a stranger and not likely to pry was a big bonus.

“This is going to be a sizable job. The house hasn’t been lived in for almost six years,” he finally said. “It’ll probably take you the two full days.”

“No problem.”

“Like I told you on the phone, the girls get here on Friday, which basically gives you no leeway.”

Shrugging, she pushed back the sleeves of her pink flannel shirt. She had the tiniest wrists he’d ever seen. “Like I told you, no problem.”

He leaned against the front of his truck. She hadn’t asked him inside, and he didn’t blame her. He was a stranger to her. Made him wonder what she’d found out about him. A cautious woman would have asked around. “I won’t be around to help.”

“I won’t need it.”

Ethan exhaled. “You have a car?”

She shook her head.

“The ranch is about thirty miles outside of town. How do you plan on getting there?”

She smiled. “I can be ready in twenty minutes.”

He stiffened. It wasn’t like it was out of his way, but he’d planned on asking Sam to let her in. Although he probably ought to make sure she only readied the kitchen and the rooms his nieces would need. No sense in putting the entire house back to order. But it had been a hell of a long time since he’d set foot in that house. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready. He liked living alone in the caretaker’s shack. Life was fine just the way it was.

He lifted his Stetson off his head, pushed the too-long strands of hair off his forehead, then settled the hat back down. “All right. I was going to let the foreman take care of things, but I suppose I can let you in and make sure you know where everything is.”

Her smile broadened. “Great.” Dusting her hands together, she turned to the door, then stopped. “Maybe you have something to do in town while I get ready? I won’t be but twenty minutes.”

He looked at his watch. The worn leather band was on its last leg. Maybe he ought to use the time to replace it. “Twenty minutes,” he said, and rounded the truck to the door.

By the time he’d climbed behind the wheel, Sara had already disappeared behind the ugly orange door. He couldn’t help but wonder why a pretty young girl like her was staying in a dumpy motel like this. Or why she needed a job cleaning other people’s houses.

Maybe she was a runaway. Just like his sister had been once upon a time. Sara had to be younger than Jenna. He turned the key in the ignition, his thoughts straying to his sister.

In some ways it seemed like only yesterday that he’d awakened at sunup to find a note from Jenna telling him she’d eloped. But she’d been seventeen then, and now she was sending her two daughters to spend Christmas with him while she honeymooned with her soon-to-be-third husband.

Ethan sighed heavily. What the hell was he going to do with a twelve-and six-year-old for ten days? It wasn’t that he didn’t like children, or that he wasn’t happy to see his nieces, but he obviously didn’t know beans about kids.

He’d tried his hardest to raise fourteen-year-old Jenna after their parents had died, but he’d clearly failed. She’d gone from a sweet-tempered, shy child to a headstrong hellion by the time she was sixteen. Of course he’d only been twenty himself at the time of the car accident, and totally clueless about the needs of a young teenage girl. The only thing he knew about was ranching. And Emily.

But Emily was dead now. And Ethan didn’t give a damn anymore about the ranch they’d built together. Sam took care of everything just fine.

There was a small jewelry and coin store right at the edge of town, so he parked the truck and went inside. He vaguely knew the owner, who was reading a comic book behind the counter, but fortunately not well enough to make small talk or to have to answer a lot of nosy questions. Other than that, no one else was around. Probably all home having supper.

The owner showed him a modest selection of watchbands from which to choose, then went back to reading his comic book. Ethan checked the time. He still had ten minutes.

He tried to concentrate on finding the most durable band, but his mind kept drifting to the girls’ arrival. Erika was the older one; he’d seen her only twice before, on the rare occasions when Jenna had remembered she still had family and had shown up at the ranch. Denise, the younger one, had to be about six. He’d never met her or her father.

His gut clenched at the thought that these two little girls were his own flesh and blood—the last of the Slade line. He and Emily had waited on having children. Foolishly, they’d counted on having a lifetime together.

He quickly chose a plain black leather band before his thoughts wandered to forbidden territory, then he pulled some money out of his pocket while the owner replaced the old band. Already twenty minutes had flown by, and damn if it wasn’t going to take Sara Conroy every spare minute to get the house in decent shape.

As he left the store, his thoughts strayed back to her. He sure hoped she was stronger than she looked. He wouldn’t be much help to her. The idea of going back to the house still made him uneasy. The idea of even Sara or his nieces entering the house and touching things didn’t sit well with him.

He forced a deep breath as he fished in his pocket for his keys. In a way, it was better Jenna had given him no notice. He didn’t have time to dread facing the ghosts or the memories.

Besides, he had enough to worry about, trying to figure out what to do with two kids.

He opened the truck’s door and froze.

Sara was already sitting in the cab. On her lap was a suitcase. Beside her was a freckled-faced little girl staring back at him.