Читать книгу Heart of Texas Volume 3: Nell's Cowboy - Debbie Macomber - Страница 11

One

Nell Bishop barreled down the highway, heading home, racing against the approaching storm. The March winds whipped against the pickup as she hurried toward Twin Canyons Ranch, thirty-four miles south of Promise, Texas.

Her mother-in-law was with the children, but Jeremy and Emma would have difficulty getting the animals into the barn without help. Ruth would do what she could, but the older woman’s heart wasn’t strong and... Nell didn’t want to think what might happen if she didn’t make it back in time.

Her life had been on a fast-moving treadmill for the past three years, ever since her husband died in a tractor accident. Storms were the least of her worries, considering the financial challenges she’d faced working the ranch without Jake. Not a day passed that her husband wasn’t in her thoughts. Twenty years from now, forty years from now, he’d still be a part of her.

Ruth and others had encouraged her to remarry, at least to date, but Nell had resisted. She never expected to love again—not the way she loved Jake. Their love was the kind that happened only once in a lifetime, and no other man could compare to her Jake.

Nell had always known she wasn’t any candidate for homecoming queen, but Jake had made her feel like one. He’d understood what it was to be big-boned and just plain big. Dainty or elegant would never describe her; at six feet, Nell was as tall as most men. Jake had been six feet four inches by the time he was a high-school freshman, and the only boy in school taller than Nell.

They’d lived in the same town all their lives, but it wasn’t until high school that she’d noticed him. The very first day of high school, as a matter of fact. She was a freshman to his senior, and the minute his eyes met hers as she walked down the hall, she knew she’d found her life’s mate. He was the only boy she’d ever dated. When he enlisted in the army and became an Airborne Ranger, she’d written him every day. He served his time in the army and was discharged a week after her graduation. Despite her family’s protests, she’d married Jake while still a teenager.

Neither was to know that ten years was all the time they’d have together. It was Nell who’d found her husband trapped beneath the tractor, Nell who’d held him in her arms as the life flowed out of him, Nell who’d screamed in anguish, helpless to do anything to save her husband’s life.

Now it was Nell who struggled to hold on to Twin Canyons Ranch, tended what remained of the herd, raised their children and cared for Jake’s aging mother. The ranch had been Jake’s dream—and hers; it was a small spread that they’d bought together, shortly after their marriage. But she was so very tired, weary to the bone with her financial struggles and other worries. The past three years had drained her mentally, emotionally and physically. For that reason she’d sold off most of the herd and started a new venture. A dude ranch.

Bless Jeremy’s heart. Her son had been the one to give her the idea. Last year, she’d promised him a reward for acing his spelling test and he’d chosen to rent a movie. Of all the movies available, he’d picked City Slickers, and to Nell it was like a revelation.

After seeing the movie, Nell hadn’t been able to sleep all night. She was certainly familiar with dude ranches, but it had never occurred to her that this might be a solution to her own dilemma. She couldn’t say she understood it, but people actually paid for the opportunity to eat food cooked in a chuck wagon, ride around on horses and drive cattle. Why these people would prefer to live in primitive circumstances when they could experience the luxury of some fancy resort for basically the same price was beyond her. Apparently she had a lot to learn—but learn she did. After months of research Nell was convinced that a dude ranch really was the answer. With a portion of her profits from the sale of last year’s herd, she’d had brochures printed and she’d contacted several travel companies. Now she was almost ready for business, and in a couple of months she’d be entertaining her first bunkhouse full of greenhorns.

In many ways she was a natural for this kind of work. After these few years without Jake, there wasn’t a ranching chore she couldn’t accomplish with the speed and dexterity of a man. At this point, she knew as much about ranching as any cowboy. Not only that, she’d heard the great stories of Texas all her life—stories about the state’s settlement and the Alamo and the early cattle drives and many more. She’d always loved those stories, and if she could make money telling them now, romanticizing the Old West, all the better.

Heavy black clouds darkened the sky. Pushing thoughts of Jake from her mind, Nell focused her attention on the highway. Driving well above the speed limit, she rounded a turn in the road and saw a sports utility vehicle parked along the side.

Some damn fool had stopped to take pictures of the approaching storm. The man obviously wasn’t a local. Anyone from Texas would know to take cover, and fast. Like the state of Texas itself, storms tended to make an impression, especially spring storms like this one.

Despite her hurry, Nell applied her brakes and pulled over. With the engine running, she leaped down from the cab. The wind slapped her long braid against her face as she raced toward the stranger.

The greenhorn lowered his camera. “Howdy,” he greeted her cheerfully. He was taller than she was and clean-cut. His clothes were new-looking but rumpled.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but any idiot knows to head for cover in a storm.”

His smile faded to a frown.

“I don’t know where you’re from or where you’re going,” she went on, “but if I were you I’d get my butt back into that fancy car of yours and drive into town as fast as those tires will take you.” Having done her duty, she started back to her truck.

“Hey,” he said, “Got a minute? I have a few questions.”

“I have to go.” Nell didn’t mean to sound abrupt, but she didn’t have time to waste. She’d said her piece and whether or not he took her advice was completely up to him.

“Are you from around the area?” he called after her.

“Yes! Now listen, we get hail the size of golf balls and if you don’t want to pay to have the dents removed, then I suggest you make tracks for town.”

“This will only take a minute...”

“I don’t have a minute, I’ve got horses and calves to worry about,” Nell shouted into the wind. “And I don’t have time to convince you a storm is about to break.” She raised her hand toward the threatening sky. “It’s going to cost you plenty if you don’t get that vehicle under cover.”

“I’m insured.”

“Hail is an act of God.” Whether he caught her last words or not she didn’t know. Nell leaped into her truck and put the pickup in gear. One glance in the rearview mirror proved that giving this stranger advice had been a wasted effort. He hadn’t moved. Furthermore, he wasn’t snapping pictures of the dark horizon anymore; he was taking pictures of her!

Shaking her head in wonder, Nell dismissed him from her thoughts, and drove home at breakneck speed.

When she pulled into the ranch yard, she saw Jeremy chasing chickens in a futile attempt to lure them into the coop. Emma and Ruth led the horses toward the barn, yanking on the reins as the two geldings battled the wind. The scene right before the tornado in The Wizard of Oz flashed through Nell’s mind.

She parked the truck near the barn, where it would be protected, and hurried toward her family. With her help, Ruth and Emma managed to secure the animals before the storm broke.

By the time they scurried into the house, the rain had started and they were breathless and excited.

“We did it!” Twelve-year-old Jeremy said, exchanging a high five with his sister. Unlike most siblings, Jeremy and Emma rarely fought. Sure, they squabbled now and then—all kids did—but these two were close in age and temperament. They’d also been through the devastating experience of their father’s death, which had created a strong bond between them.

Jeremy was large for his age, like his father and Nell, too—big-boned, muscular and tall. Two years younger, Emma was small and delicate, resembling Ruth, her grandmother.

“I’m glad you made it home in time,” Ruth said, pouring Nell a cup of hot tea before filling a second cup for herself.

Nell gazed out the kitchen window at the ferocity of the storm. The wind propelled the rain at an almost horizontal angle, pelting the trees and flowers. Smaller trees were bent nearly in half. Many a new crop would see ruin this afternoon.

Sighing, she turned away from the window. “I would have been a couple of minutes earlier if it hadn’t been for some greenhorn,” she said. “The silly fool stopped at the side of the road to take pictures.”

“Anyone you recognized?” Ruth asked.

“Never saw him before in my life.” Nell would have remembered him if she had. He was big like Jake, sturdy and broad-shouldered. Unfortunately—unlike Jake—he didn’t seem to possess an ounce of common sense.

Ruth shook her head. “Probably one of those tornado chasers.”

Nell frowned. “I don’t think so.” He wasn’t the type. Too soft, she decided, and although it might sound unkind, not all that bright. Anyone with brains knew to seek shelter in a storm.

“What’s for dinner?” Jeremy asked.

“Not chili,” Emma pleaded.

Despite herself Nell laughed. “Not chili,” she assured her. Her family had been good sports, sampling different variations of her chili recipe for the past few months. Nell was perfecting her recipe and had used her family as taste-testers.

The Chili Cook-off was being held that weekend as part of the Promise Rodeo. These festivities launched spring the way the big Cattlemen’s Association dance in June signaled the beginning of summer.

Nell held high hopes that her chili might actually win this year. Her talents in the kitchen were legendary, and she believed she made a great pot of chili. For weeks she’d been combining recipes, adding this, subtracting that. After feeding her family chili twice a week, she was finally satisfied with her recipe.

“Are you going to win the cook-off?” Emma asked.

“Of course she is,” Ruth answered before Nell could respond. “I don’t see why she shouldn’t, seeing she’s the best cook this side of the Rio Grande.”

Both children nodded enthusiastically, and Nell smiled. “How about porcupine meatballs for dinner?” she suggested. The meatballs, made with rice and cooked in tomato soup, were one of the children’s favorites. Jeremy and Emma instantly agreed.

“I’ll peel the potatoes,” Ruth said. As usual her mother-in-law was willing to lend a hand.

The lights flickered just then, and the house went dark.

“That’s okay,” Jeremy said. “We don’t need electricity. We can roast weenies in the fireplace, can’t we?”

“Yeah,” Emma seconded. “We could have hot dogs.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Nell reached for a candle, grateful her children maintained a sense of adventure. They were going to need it when the first dude ranch guests arrived.

* * *

Cal Patterson shook the moisture from his jacket as he stepped inside out of the driving rain. He removed his Stetson and placed it on the hook just inside the porch to dry. He’d done what he could to protect his herd, gotten his horses into the barn and battened down the shutters where he could. Glen, his brother and business partner, had left for town early in hopes of beating the storm. Cal had worked alone, listening with half an ear for his wife’s arrival. He didn’t like the idea of Jane driving all the way from town in this kind of weather.

“Cal, is that you?”

His heart rate accelerated at the sound of her voice. “Jane? What the hell are you doing here? Where’s your car? I didn’t see it.”

“I live here, remember?” she teased, joining him in the kitchen porch while he removed his boots. She’d obviously just had a bath and now wore a flannel bathrobe, belted loosely about her waist. “And I didn’t park in my usual place because Glen’s truck was still there.”

“You should’ve stayed in town,” he chastised, but he was delighted she’d managed to make it home. He didn’t relish the idea of a night spent without her. Two months of marriage, and he’d grown accustomed to sharing his home and his heart with this woman.

“The clinic closed early,” she informed him, “and I’ve got my beeper. Anyone can reach me in case of a medical emergency.”

Cal shed his jacket and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and urging her into the kitchen. His wife was the town’s only physician, so there were constant demands on her time. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop worrying about you.”

“Hey, I’m a big girl.”

“Sure you are!” He was about to kiss her when the lights went out. Not that he minded. A romantic interlude wasn’t unwelcome.

“I’ve got a fire going in the fireplace,” she whispered, pressing against him, reminding him of the benefits of married life. She looped her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw.

Cal shut his eyes and inhaled her fresh sweet scent. This was about as close to heaven as he expected to get in his lifetime. “I don’t suppose you’re wearing that see-through nightie of yours?”

“No,” she said, “but that could be arranged.”

“Now you’re talkin’.”

Cal felt her smile against his skin. “I love you, Rebel.”

Growling, he swung her into his arms and carried her into the living room. Sure enough, a small fire flickered in the fireplace. This had become their favorite room; he’d lost count of the number of times they’d made love in front of the fireplace. The room had a special significance for him, since it was here that he’d first realized how much he’d come to care about her. It was here in this very room that Dr. Texas, as he was fond of calling her, had taken his freeze-dried heart and breathed life into his lonely existence.

Cal was happier than he’d ever thought possible. With each passing day he loved Jane more. Their love had demanded plenty of adjustments on both sides. Sacrifices. But for everything he’d given up, he’d gained so much more.

The storm raged outside and a fair one was building on the living-room carpet when Jane’s beeper went off.

Cal groaned and rolled onto his back, inhaling several deep breaths. “That damn well better be important,” he muttered.

“Cal!”

“I want someone real sick.”

Giggling, Jane scrambled for her beeper and read the message. “It’s Laredo Smith,” she said.

“Wanna bet he’s phoning about Savannah?”

“She’s just over eight months,” Jane said, sounding concerned.

“But Laredo’s acting like she’s three weeks overdue.”

“He’s worried, that’s all.”

Cal figured he would be, too, in Laredo’s situation. This was the Smiths’ first child, and Savannah was over thirty; as well, Cal knew there’d been some minor complications with the pregnancy. Despite that—and unlike her husband—the mother-to-be remained calm and confident. Savannah had insisted on a home delivery, overriding Laredo’s protests.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Jane promised. She hurried over to the hall phone.

Cal cupped his hands behind his head and watched his wife move through the room, bathed in firelight. Her hair was mussed and her bathrobe hastily tied—and he couldn’t recall a time she’d looked more beautiful. It never ceased to amaze him that Jane had agreed to be his wife.

Cal had begun to wonder if someone had spiked the water supply last summer. In less than a year most of his friends had married. First, Savannah Weston had met a stranger to Promise named Laredo Smith and subsequently married him. His own brother had married Ellie Frasier, owner of the local feed store, last September. No sooner had that wedding taken place when Grady Weston asked the postmistress, Caroline Daniels, to marry him—all within the space of a few short weeks. Even Sheriff Hennessey had married his longtime sweetheart, Dovie Boyd.

It hadn’t been long before Cal fell in love himself.

At one time Cal, Glen and Grady had been confirmed bachelors. With Cal, it had been a form of self-protection, he realized now. He’d been jilted by a former fiancée and the experience had left him bitter, determined never to fall for a woman again.

But that was before he’d met Jane. Their first date was arranged by Ellie. At the time Cal had been annoyed and frustrated that his brand-new sister-in-law was matchmaking. By the end of the evening, however, Jane had managed to pique his interest. To his surprise he discovered he was looking forward to seeing her again. Before he could help himself, he was deeply in love with her.

A city girl. Worse, one from California. If anyone had told him six months ago that he’d marry a woman like Jane, he would have run screaming into the night. Now he couldn’t imagine living two minutes without her.

With the phone against her ear, Jane caught her husband’s eyes and blew him a kiss. He grinned, content to wait. Relaxing on the rug, he listened to one-half of the conversation.

“Don’t worry,” Jane was telling Laredo, “you didn’t interrupt anything important.”

Cal sat upright at that, raising his eyebrows. Didn’t interrupt anything important? He saw that his wife could barely hold in her laughter at his expression.

But her smile faded as she continued to listen to Laredo. “No...no you were right to phone. How long ago did you say her water broke?”

The smile left Cal’s face, too. This was more serious than either of them had anticipated.

“How far apart are the contractions?” Jane reached for a pad and pencil and noted the information.

Cal had delivered enough calves to know the signs of imminent birth. Savannah and Laredo were about to have their baby during the worst storm of the year.

“I’ll be there within the hour,” Jane promised, and replaced the receiver. “Savannah’s in labor,” she told Cal.

“So I heard.” He stood and she walked over to him and caressed the side of his face. “Looks like we’ll have to put our romantic interlude on hold.”

“I’m a patient man,” he reminded her. He caught her fingers and pressed a kiss into her palm. “What time are we leaving?” he asked, snapping his shirt closed as he spoke.

“We?” Jane asked, arching her brows expressively. “I’m perfectly capable of delivering this baby.”

“I never doubted it for an instant.” He opened her bathrobe, kissed the valley between her breasts and refastened it.

“I can drive in a storm, too.”

“I realize that,” he said, “but how good are you at keeping two strong-willed ranchers out of your hair?”

“Two?”

“Laredo and Grady.” Cal knew his best friend, and Grady would be as nervous as Laredo at the birth of his first niece or nephew. Jane was going to have her hands full, and it wasn’t with Savannah or the baby, either. It wouldn’t surprise him if father and uncle made damned nuisances of themselves. “Trust me, darlin’, you’ll thank me later.”

“Oh, all right, Cal Patterson, you can tag along, too. Now I’d better go change.”

He grinned, pleased he’d been able to convince her she was going to need him. Truth be known, he wouldn’t miss this birth for anything. It was about time something good happened in that family, especially after Richard Weston’s trial and sentencing.

A baby was just what the Westons needed to put their troubles behind them. Cal was determined to celebrate the blessed event with his friends.

* * *

Travis Grant rolled into Promise at precisely the moment the storm struck. He drove down Main Street, peering out between the constantly beating windshield wipers, but he couldn’t locate a single hotel. Seeing as his last meal had been aboard a plane and hadn’t amounted to much, he decided to stop for dinner and inquire about a place to stay. By the time he found a parking space and raced to the restaurant through the pounding rain, he was soaked to the skin.

He gulped down a glass of water and started on a bowl of tortilla chips with salsa before he even looked at the menu. His stomach growled and he ordered arroz con pollo, his favorite Mexican dish.

Gazing out the window, he decided the town was just the way Richard Weston had described it. This was something of a pleasant surprise. Men like Weston weren’t exactly known for their truthfulness. Travis had interviewed him shortly after he was sentenced to twenty-five years in a New York prison. No possibility of parole, either. He wouldn’t have talked to him at all if it hadn’t been for his ex-wife, who’d been Weston’s state-appointed attorney. As far as Travis was concerned, Weston was the ultimate sleaze—an opinion that the interview only reinforced.

Knowing his interest in Western ghost towns, Valerie had told him about Weston, a man who’d hidden from the law in an abandoned town buried deep in the Texas hill country. Weston had agreed to an interview-in exchange for certain concessions. The warden of the prison, however, hadn’t approved of the idea that Weston should have a TV and sound system in his cell. Weston had consented to the interview, anyway—because it was another opportunity to be the center of attention, Travis figured. Their meeting continued to leave a bad taste in his mouth. If it hadn’t been for Valerie, Travis would have abandoned the entire project, but his ex-wife seemed to have a way with the man.

Valerie. Travis frowned as he thought about her. She’d dumped him and their marriage for another man five years earlier. His lack of malice seemed to disappoint his friends. Frankly, he considered life too short to waste on ill will. He’d loved her, still did, but as she’d so eloquently put it, she’d fallen out of love with him.

She’d remarried as soon as the ink was dry on their divorce papers and seemed content. For that matter, he was, too, although it had taken him longer to achieve peace and he hadn’t become involved in another serious relationship. Also, to his friends’ surprise, he and Valerie had stayed in touch.

The waiter, a kid of maybe eighteen, delivered a plate heaped with rice and chicken and covered with a thin tomato sauce and melted cheese. “Could you give me directions to the closest motel?” Travis asked him.

“Brewster’s got a motel.”

“Great.” Travis reached for his fork. “How far away is that?”

“About a hundred miles.”

He laid his fork back down. “You mean to say a town the size of Promise doesn’t have a motel?”

“We’ve got a bed and breakfast.”

“Fine.” A bed was a bed, and at this point he wasn’t picky.

The waiter lingered. “You might have trouble getting a room, ’cause of the big festivities this weekend.”

“Festivities?”

“The rodeo’s coming, and then there’s the big chili cook-off. I thought that was why you were here.”

Apparently the town was small enough to recognize him as a stranger. “Where do the rodeo cowboys stay while they’re in town?”

The youth stared at him as if the answer should be obvious. “Motor homes.”

“All of them?”

“Unless they got family close by.”

“I see,” Travis murmured. He hadn’t considered that there wouldn’t be a motel—but then that was one of his problems, according to Valerie. He didn’t think ahead.

“If you’d like, I could write you out directions to the Pattersons’ B and B.”

“Please.” Famished, Travis dug into his meal, devouring it in minutes. He’d no sooner finished when the waiter returned with a hand-drawn map listing streets and landmarks. Apparently the one and only bed and breakfast was off the beaten path.

Thunder cracked in the sky, followed by flashes of lightning. No one seemed to pay much heed to the storm until the lights flickered. Everyone in the restaurant paused and waited, then sighed with relief when the lights stayed on.

The storm was bad, but he’d seen worse off the New England coastline five years before. Holed up in a rented cottage in order to meet a deadline, Travis had watched storms rage as he fought his own battles. It’d been shortly after the divorce.

He thought of that sassy ranch woman who’d spoken to him today and wondered what she’d say if she knew he’d stood on a rocky bluff overlooking the sea, with the wind and rain pounding against him, and openly defied nature.

Remembering the way she’d leaped out of her truck, eyes flashing with outrage, brought a rare smile to his lips.

She’d been an attractive woman. Practically as tall as he was and full-sized, not some pencil-thin model. A spitfire, too. Definitely one of a kind. Briefly he wondered if he’d get a chance to see her again and rather hoped he would, just so he could tell her he’d managed to survive the storm.

Following the directions given him by the waiter at the Mexican Lindo, Travis drove to Pattersons’ Bed and Breakfast, which turned out to be a large older home. He rang the doorbell.

Almost immediately a tall gray-haired lanky man opened the door and invited him inside. “Welcome to Promise.” The man extended his hand and introduced himself as Phil Patterson.

“Travis Grant. Do you have a room for a few nights?” he asked, getting directly to the point.

“Sorry,” Phil told him. “We’re booked solid.”

Travis had left New York early that morning and didn’t relish the thought of traveling another hundred miles through a storm to find a bed for the night. “I’m tired and not difficult to please. Isn’t there any place that could put me up for a few nights?”

Phil frowned. “The rodeo’s coming to town.”

“So I understand.”

“I doubt there’s a room available in Brewster, either.”

Travis muttered a curse under his breath.

“Phil.” A woman’s voice called out from the kitchen. “You might try Nell.”

“Nell?”

“Nell Bishop.”

Phil sighed. “I know who Nell is.”

“She’s opening her dude ranch in a couple of months, so she’s probably got rooms to rent.”

Phil’s face relaxed. “Of course, that’s a great idea.”

Travis’s spirits lifted.

“I’ll give her a call.” Phil reached for the phone, punched in the number and waited. After a minute or two he covered the receiver. “Nell’s busy, but her mother-in-law’s there and she said you’d be welcome to drive out, but she feels obliged to warn you there’s no electricity at the moment.”

“They have a bed and clean sheets?”

“Sure thing, and Ruth—that’s her name—said she’d throw in breakfast, as well.”

He named a price that sounded more than reasonable to Travis. “Sold.”

Phil relayed the information, drew him a map, and soon Travis was back on the road.

Patterson had told him that the ranch was a fair distance out of town; still, by the time Travis pulled off the highway and onto the gravel drive that led to Twin Canyons Ranch, he suspected he was closer to Brewster than Promise. Approaching the front door, he felt as though his butt was dragging as low to the ground as his suitcase.

A kid who looked to be about twelve answered his knock and stared blankly at him while Travis stood in the rain.

“Hello,” Travis finally said.

“Hello,” the boy answered. A girl two or three years younger joined him. Good-looking children, but apparently not all that bright.

“Most people come to the back door unless they’re selling something, and if you are, we’re not buying.”

Despite feeling tired and cranky, Travis grinned. “I’m here about a room.”

The two kids exchanged glances.

“Who is it?” He heard an older woman’s voice in the background; a moment later, she appeared at the door. “For the love of heaven, young man, come out of the rain.” She nudged the children aside and held open the door.

He stood in the hallway, which was all gloom and shadows except for the light flickering from a cluster of candles. Travis glanced around, but it was impossible to see much.

“Mom’s in the barn,” the boy said.

“I know that,” the older woman told him. She put the candle close to Travis’s face. “You look decent enough.”

“I haven’t eaten any children in at least a week,” he teased, eyeing the two kids. The little girl moved a step closer to her brother.

“I’m Travis Grant,” he said, turning his attention to the woman.

“Ruth Bishop, and these two youngsters are my grandchildren, Jeremy and Emma.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He shifted the suitcase in his hand, hoping Ruth would take the hint and escort him to his room. She didn’t. “About the room...” he said pointedly.

“You’ll need to meet Nell first.”

“All right.” He was eager to get the introductions over with so he could fall into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours straight.

“This way.” She led him through the house to the back porch, where she pulled on a hooded jacket. Then she walked down the back steps and into the rain, holding her hand over the candle to shield the small flame.

Travis wasn’t enthusiastic about clumping through the storm yet again, but didn’t have much choice.

“Ruth?” a new voice called into the night. A low pleasant voice.

“Coming,” the grandmother answered.

They met halfway across the yard in the pouring rain. “I got us our first paying guest,” Ruth announced, beaming proudly. “Travis Grant, meet my daughter-in-law, Nell Bishop.”

It took Travis no more than a second to recognize Nell as the woman who’d called him an idiot.

He liked her already.