Читать книгу Roping In The Cowgirl - Judy Duarte, Judy Duarte - Страница 10

Chapter Three

The brunette wearing the yellow apron turned out to be the ranch cook—and she was an excellent one, at that.

After serving Blake and the residents in the dining room, she returned to the kitchen, where Sam was eating with the hired hands. When she’d first asked Blake to sit at the table with the oldsters, he’d gotten the feeling that his uncle might have come up with the seating arrangement in order to avoid him. But then he’d wondered whether Sam might have wanted to separate the working men from the residents for one reason or another.

Either way, Blake now found himself seated across from Nurse Shannon and flanked by Rex and another elderly man, whose name escaped him. However, Shannon had just gotten up to take a phone call, so her chair was now empty.

“By the way,” Rex said to no one in particular, “there’s going to be a rodeo at the Wexler Fairgrounds next spring. It’ll be in April, I think. Anyway, I have a friend who works with the outfit promoting it, and he said the head honcho is looking for worthwhile local charities to support. I told him all about Rocking Chair Ranch. He liked the idea of sponsoring us and is going to talk to his boss.”

“Good for you,” another retired cowboy said. “That’s one way to make sure we can keep the doors open. I’d hate to have to move back to that place in town.”

If Rex suggested that a rodeo sponsor the ranch, then it sounded as if they might be struggling to keep things afloat. Shannon had implied there were financial concerns about hiring more-experienced hands, but he hadn’t realized they feared going out of business. He’d only been here a short while, but he could see why these men would prefer to live in a setting like this.

Moments later, when Shannon returned to the table and took her seat, Blake shot a glance at her, then at Rex. But the old cowboy didn’t repeat his announcement.

Did Shannon already know what he’d asked of his rodeo buddy?

Rex elbowed Blake. “Don’t hoard all those warm biscuits, Fancy Pants. Pass them down, will you?”

Apparently word had spread that Sam had given Blake that nickname. He found the moniker bothersome, but he’d have to live with a few verbal jabs—at least while he was here.

So he shook off his annoyance, reached for the bread basket and passed it to Rex. “Here you go. Do you want butter, too?”

“Yep. And the honey, if you don’t mind. Thanks.”

Blake returned his focus to his plate, which the cook had filled with a working man’s portion of tender short ribs, mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. He picked up his fork and continued to chow down.

Chow down? He hadn’t used a phrase like that in ages. Not since he was a kid hanging out on Sam’s ranch, tagging along after the cowboys and hoping to be one himself someday.

Back then, the Western way of life had become so ingrained in his mind that he’d always returned home to California at summer’s end talking like a true Texan, a habit that usually hadn’t worn off until Christmas.

Ever since his arrival on the Rocking C, ever since he’d caught the first familiar whiff of alfalfa and spotted the cattle grazing in the pasture, he’d found himself thinking in terms of the cowboy vernacular he’d favored as a boy. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to stay here so long that he returned to Beverly Hills talking in a slow Texas drawl. Wouldn’t his partners in the firm give him grief about that.

He reached for his sweet tea and took a couple of chugs. He’d forgotten how thirst-quenching an ice-cold glass could be—when it was made just right.

Next he took a warm biscuit from the cloth-covered basket, split it open and smothered it with butter. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal like this since... Well, not since his last visit with his aunt and uncle. Nellie had been an amazing cook, too. That’s one of the many things Blake missed about her.

Sometimes at a restaurant, although it wasn’t often, he’d spot chicken fried steak on the menu and order it for old times’ sake. But he’d never tasted anything that could compare with the way his aunt used to make it.

He wondered if the Rocking C cook had a special recipe of her own. He hoped so, but hers might not be able to compete, either.

As he continued to eat his fill, he listened to the lunchtime conversation. Whether the retired cowboys were discussing the weather, the cost of cattle or the best stock-car drivers of all time, they were an entertaining lot.

Still, he was more interested in the pretty RN seated across from him. In fact, he was so downright intrigued by her and the thoughts that had kept her quiet for most of the meal that, whenever he suspected he could get away with it, he would steal a glance her way.

Sometime this morning, while he’d been napping at Sam’s place, she’d twisted her long curls into a topknot. He would have preferred to see her hair hanging loose, though. But he did note her delicate neck, as well as a dainty pair of silver hooped earrings that indicated she had a great sense of style.

Not that she or her appearance really mattered. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be distracted or to let his focus drift away from the task he’d set out to do.

He’d yet to run across the woman who was chasing after his uncle. All he knew was that her name was Joy. Was she the woman who’d made this amazing meal? It was possible, he supposed. After all, there was that old proverb that said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Maybe he’d ask the cook what her name was—that is, if she ever had a free minute. The woman buzzed through the dining room every once in a while, checking on the oldsters, then she would hurry back to the kitchen.

Blake cut into a tender piece of meat, speared it with his fork and popped it into his mouth. Damn, it was good.

“Hey, Shannon,” Rex said, drawing the nurse from her musing. “Doc’s coming to play poker with us again this evening. Are you gonna give us a chance to win back what we lost to you last week?”

Blake nearly choked. Had he heard that right? Was the head nurse gambling with the elderly cowboys under her care?

“I’m looking forward to it,” Shannon said.

Blake lifted his napkin and blotted his mouth. That had to be a breach of ethics.

Rex jabbed his elbow against Blake’s arm again. “You want to join us, kid? It’s a fifty-dollar buy-in.”

Under the circumstances, considering Shannon was playing with men on fixed incomes, those were pretty hefty stakes.

“I’d rather watch,” Blake said. “What time does the game start?”

“Around half past five. Right after supper.” Rex pushed his plate aside with a trembling hand. “Some of us can’t keep the late hours like we used to.”

Blake didn’t doubt that. The men probably weren’t as sharp as they used to be, either. Surely Shannon had that figured out and was using it to her advantage. And if the Rocking C was actually in financial trouble, there could be other underhanded things going on around here.

Damn, he was glad he’d come to Texas to see this mess for himself—and to rescue his uncle before the whole thing blew up in his face.

Again Blake focused his gaze on the head nurse. Why was she working at a retirement home and not at a hospital or clinic? Had she taken this job to prey on the elderly?

He was going to have to keep a close eye on her, although he was tempted to keep an eye on her for other reasons, too. Even dressed in scrubs, she was too pretty for words.

But then Melissa, his former fiancée, had been an attractive woman, too. After uncovering her real motive for wanting to marry him, he’d learned a hard but valuable lesson—to guard his heart and never take a woman at face value again.

Even if her face was as pretty as Shannon Cramer’s.

* * *

The ranch cook, who Rex and the other men had referred to as “Miz Hopkins,” had no more than cleared the dinner plates and serving bowls from the table, when Doc Nelson, a spry older man with a potbelly and a Santa Claus twinkle in his eye, arrived with a deck of cards and a case of poker chips.

Shannon, who was still wearing her scrubs, returned carrying her purse. Blake was glad to know he’d soon catch her in the act of taking advantage of the men who were her patients, yet at the same time, he couldn’t help his disappointment. He didn’t like the idea of the attractive nurse turning out to be a thief. Or the suspicion that “Doc” might be in on the ruse.

After Rex placed two dimes and a nickel on the table, and the doctor tossed out two quarters, Shannon pulled out a dollar bill from her wallet.

“I’ll need change,” she said.

Blake scrunched his brow. “I thought it was a fifty-dollar buy-in.”

“That’s what we call it,” the doctor said. “There’s something about playing for coins that just doesn’t seem right to us.”

“And neither does playing Bingo,” Rex chimed in. “When Shannon first got here and suggested it, I said, ‘Hell, no. I’m not playing that girly game.’”

Doc Nelson chuckled. “So I convinced Shannon to not only let them play poker, but to let them wager something more valuable than matchsticks, even if it was just coins.”

“Let me get this straight.” Blake crossed his arms as he addressed each of the men and the woman seated at the table. “A chip represents a dollar, but it only costs a penny?”

“That’s right,” Doc Nelson said. “You’ll need fifty cents to play. So are you in or out?”

Under the circumstances, since there was no longer a need for Blake to sit back and witness an infraction, he reached into his front pocket for some change. “Sure, why not?”

As the doctor shuffled the deck, Shannon took the seat next to him and asked, “Did you get a chance to look at Nate’s hand, Doc?”

“Yep, I sure did. You were right, it needed a couple of stitches, so I took care of that and then bandaged him up again. But I’d like you to keep an eye on it. Even with that shot of penicillin, I’m concerned about infection. Especially because he’s not likely to complain about pain or swelling.”

Shannon cast a frown on the men at the table. “That’s because he doesn’t want these guys to call him a ‘snot-nosed kid who can’t take a little discomfort.’”

“Oh, pshaw.” Rex slowly shook his gray head. “I only said that to toughen him up. The first week he got here, he was moping around like someone stole his candy. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, those youngsters Sam hired are just a few years out of a diaper.”

“And they’re all pretty soft,” a wiry man named Chuck added. “The Good Lord sure don’t make cowboys like He used to. That’s for sure.”

Blake shot a glance at Shannon and watched her smile. But why wouldn’t she? These good ol’ boys were pretty comical.

Nearly two hours later, they called it a night. And this time Rex was the winner.

“Okay,” Shannon said. “I’d better go home and get some sleep. I’ll see y’all in the morning.”

Blake decided to see her out. After all, he was going back to Sam’s place anyway. Still, even though he was downplaying his reason for that decision, he had to admit there was more to him wanting to go outside with Shannon than just being polite.

The woman might have lost a quarter or more tonight, but she certainly knew how to play poker.

As Shannon reached under the table for her purse, Blake got to his feet. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

His suggestion must have taken her aback because her lips parted, and she hesitated a moment. Then she smiled and said, “All right. I just need to tell the night nurse I’m leaving.”

“I’ll wait for you by the front door.”

She tilted her head slightly, as if suspicious of his offer—or maybe surprised by his manners. Who knew what she was really thinking?

And there lay the problem. Blake shouldn’t have given a damn, but he felt compelled to learn more about her. Not only about what she was thinking, but what made her tick. Something wasn’t right on the Rocking Chair Ranch, and he had a feeling the head nurse held the key.

* * *

After briefing Darlene about a change in one resident’s bedtime medication, Shannon met Blake in the living room.

His offer to walk her to her car had taken her by complete surprise. Maybe he was just being a gentleman, but she had a feeling he had something on his mind. If so, she’d find out soon enough.

He opened the front door for her, and she stepped out onto the wraparound porch, where a row of empty rockers were lined against the wall and flanked by pots of red and pink geraniums. As he joined her, she took a moment to savor the sights and sounds of the evening. The moon was only a sliver tonight, yet the stars twinkled brightly in the sky. In the distance, a horse whinnied.

Not wanting him to think she was dawdling or trying to eke out more time with him, she started toward her car, her pace slow until he caught up with her.

“So where did you learn to play poker?” he asked.

“My dad taught me. I used to watch him and his buddies play on Saturday nights, and sometimes, when they needed a fifth, they’d ask me to join them.”

“Your mom let you do that?”

Shannon wasn’t sure how much of her past she wanted to share with him. But she adored Sam and couldn’t see any reason to be leery of his nephew. “My mom died when I was six.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” She gave a little shrug. “Anyway, my dad taught me a lot of things, poker being only one of them.”

They continued toward her car, the soles of their shoes crunching along the dirt walkway.

“Your uncle reminds me a lot of my father,” she added.

“Oh, yeah? Is your dad a rancher?”

“Actually, our ranch belonged to my mother’s family, so she was the expert on that sort of thing. My dad was a long-haul trucker. But when she passed away, he quit his job so he could stay home with me. And he did his best to work our small spread.”

“I really don’t remember my dad,” Blake said. “He died right before I started school.”

Sam had told Shannon that Blake had lost his father in a skiing accident, but she hadn’t realized how young he’d been when it happened.

“That’s too bad,” she said.

Now it was Blake’s turn to give a slight shrug. “My mom and I moved in with her mother in California. But she kept in touch with Sam and Nellie, who practically raised my dad. And when I got a little older, she let me spend summers in Texas with them.”

“Sam’s a great guy,” she said. “Just like my dad.”

“It sounds like you and your dad are close.”

They certainly had been. “Together, we made a good team. We both tackled the household chores, and each week, after cutting out coupons and planning the meals, we went grocery shopping. And on Saturdays we worked in the yard.”

Since her dad was always working on or refurbishing a vehicle in the garage, he’d taught Shannon how to change the oil on the pickup, not to mention spark plugs, fuel pumps and flat tires.

Some men, like Mike Cavanaugh, a city boy she’d dated in college, found her “unconventional hobbies” to be unsettling—maybe even demeaning. But she was a country girl at heart, one with varied interests and diverse abilities. And she wasn’t going to pretend to be someone else. At least, not again.