Читать книгу Wanted: Christmas Mummy - Judy Christenberry - Страница 7

“Any luck?”

Doug Graybow had been scowling into his beer when one of his neighbors settled into the chair across from him. “Nope,” he admitted. “I’ve been running the ad for three or four weeks now, and I haven’t had a single applicant.”

“What are you gonna do?” Ben Anderson asked.

“About what?” another neighbor, Will Jacks, asked as he joined them. They’d all just left the Ranchers’ Association monthly meeting in the back room of the Riverside Café and, as was custom, were settling in for a few beers with their neighbors.

“Doug, here, has been advertising for a housekeeper to replace Agnes. She and Rocky retired to Arizona, you know.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard that. And you haven’t had any luck?” Will asked.

“Nope,” Doug repeated, weariness in his tone as well as his posture.

“Man, those holy terrors of yours must be driving you crazy,” Will said with a grin.

Doug didn’t bother to defend his progeny. No one would believe him. The five-year-old twins had been bad enough with Agnes to corral them. Since she’d packed her bags and headed south, they’d been impossible.

Ben smacked his hand down on the table, startling both his companions. “Damn it, man, you’re advertising for the wrong thing!”

“What are you talking about?” Doug wondered if his friend had already imbibed several beers before joining him.

“You should be advertising for a wife. That’s what you need. Not a housekeeper. Housekeepers leave, but a wife will put up with anything if you cuddle her a little and buy her something pretty every once in a while.”

Ben grinned as if he’d just made a major discovery, and Will nodded in agreement.

Doug frowned at him, irritation in his every bone. “First of all, if that’s the way you’re treating Meggy, I hope she throws you out on your ear. And I’m not about to advertise for a wife. Any woman desperate enough to answer that kind of ad wouldn’t be the woman for me.”

Besides, he’d tried marriage once. He wasn’t sure he would ever be that desperate—in spite of the disasters his sons could create. He’d find a housekeeper somehow. Somewhere.

Unable to stand any more conversation on the subject, he stood, grabbed his cowboy hat and sheepskin jacket from the back of the chair, muttered a good-night and stalked out into the cold November air.

“Man, he’s a touchy son of a gun tonight,” Will protested.

“I bet it’s those kids of his. Meggy has ’em in Sunday school and she comes home all worn-out. They need a mama real bad.”

“Well, he oughta consider a ad. I heard tell of a man up in Wind River got a wife that way.”

“He’d be more likely to find a woman that way than just waitin’ for one to come along. Wyoming may have lots of things goin’ for it, but available women isn’t one of ’em.”

“You’re right about that,” Will agreed. “Too bad we can’t put in a ad for him. Once he met a few of those ‘desperate’ women, he might change his mind.”

“Yeah, too bad—” Ben stopped and stared at his friend. “Why not? You got a piece of paper?”