Читать книгу The Reluctant Rancher - Leigh Riker, Leigh Riker - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

“IS HE HURT BAD, BLOSS’M?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. I hope your daddy will.”

They were on their knees in the barn aisle beside the tortoiseshell kitten, the one she’d seen with Logan that first day. Now as he entered with Grey, Nick clapped both hands over his ears to shut out the cat’s cries of distress.

Blossom had put the kitten in an old bushel basket—the kind used to haul peaches or apples—with a scrap of horse blanket she’d found in the tack room, but she hadn’t assessed the kitten’s injuries.

“Okay, what happened?” Logan asked.

Nick hung over the basket. “It fell.”

If she didn’t miss her guess, he was more than halfway to crying. Blossom was surprised he’d held out this long. Now if only his father didn’t make things worse...

Bending down, Logan flicked the blanket aside. The chubby kitten gazed up at him as if in mute appeal, golden eyes blinking a clear message, Please help me.

Logan sat back on his heels. “Nicky, maybe you should wait in the house.”

“I wanna stay here. And make ’im better.”

Blossom gave in to a weak smile. Logan’s son had his strong will.

Logan looked up at Grey. “Get me some warm water and a clean rag,” he said, “please,” then watched Grey go into the tack room.

“Did this kitty break its leg?” Nick asked. “Like Grandpa?”

Blossom said, “The kitten was limp when we found her, unconscious.”

“I think she had the wind knocked out of her. That ever happen to you, Nicky?” Logan asked the question without looking at his son. “Happened to me just yesterday.”

“But you’re okay now?”

“Sure.” He laid the cat in his palm and examined her thoroughly from her head to her four tiny paws. They had pink pads and looked as tender as a newborn baby’s feet would be. “Nothing broken so far.” He glanced at Blossom. “You weren’t here when it happened?”

Nick answered. “No, me and Bloss’m were in the garden. We picked flowers but there weren’t very many. Then she saw clovers coming up in the yard and we picked them, too. I wanted to give ’em to my horses. Here,” he added, “not at Uncle Grey’s. But when we got to the barn...” He swiped at his first tears.

Logan touched the cat’s rear leg, and the kitten yowled then bit him. Logan jerked back. His mouth opened but nothing came out. He must have thought better of uttering an oath in front of his son. But when he held up his injured finger, Nick recoiled.

“Blood! Yuck.”

Blossom drew him against her side, hiding his face against the slight swell of her stomach that would soon become impossible to disguise no matter how loose her clothes were.

Logan straightened. “She has a nasty gash on her rear leg, but we’ll fix that right up. Don’t worry, Nicky.”

Blossom supposed the sight of blood was nothing new to a rancher—even a reluctant one—who delivered calves and such, but to Nick it seemed a major catastrophe. He was turning whiter by the second.

Grey reappeared with the pan of water. “Crisis under control?”

Logan indicated the kitten. “I have some patching up to do. Nicky may be better off with you.”

“Come on, then, little cowboy,” Grey said, his eyes soft. “Let’s check on your grandpa before I take you home to see what your mama’s up to.”

“But I wanna see the kitten get better!”

Blossom saw a strange expression cross Logan’s face.

He cleared his throat. “You go ahead, buddy. Do as I tell you.”

Nick’s face was tear streaked, dirt smeared, and her heart turned over. How could Logan bear to be separated from this child? She knew she could never be apart from her baby the way Logan was.

She met Nick’s gaze. “I’ll help your daddy with the kitten. All right?”

He thought a moment. “Will you call me at my uncle Grey’s house when she’s better? It’s the Wilson Cattle Company,” he added solemnly, as if Blossom wouldn’t know where to find him.

“Of course I will.”

Nick flung both arms around her neck and buried his face against Blossom’s throat. Then as quickly as he’d hugged her, he turned and ran down the aisle to his uncle.

“Grey.” Logan’s voice echoed through the barn.

“I’ll take good care of him for you.”

Logan nodded but that was all. Seeming unaware of Blossom, he watched the two walk toward the house, a look on his face that she could only term anguished.

Logan’s relationship with Nick puzzled her. Right now she could see the rigid set of his shoulders, the hard line of his jaw as if he were gritting his teeth.

Logan had finally stopped staring after Nick and Grey. “Let’s take her into the tack room,” he said.

The small area was lined with saddle racks and bridle hooks. In one corner a pile of patterned blankets smelled faintly of damp wool.

Blossom might know little about homemaking or caregiving, but she knew nothing about ranch life. Yesterday she’d startled the bison calf into knocking Logan off his feet. Interested today in the neglected garden behind the house, she’d forgotten to collect the eggs with Nick.

While she cuddled the kitten to her chest, Logan gathered supplies.

“This cat just used up one of her nine lives.” He set the pan of water down on a tack trunk. A small bottle poked from his rear jeans pocket.

“I’ve never owned a pet. My father didn’t like animals, probably because he couldn’t always control them. I thought cats landed on their feet.”

“Their instincts are good, and their reflexes, but they can get hurt bad—killed—if they fall a shorter distance. They don’t have time or enough space on the way down to twist their bodies and land upright. Like a gymnast. Don’t know where she fell from, but she must have bounced off those hay bales in the aisle. They cushioned her landing or she wouldn’t be talking to us now. The impact or something she hit on the way down must have split her leg open.”

Blossom sat on the trunk and held the kitten even closer as if to protect her the way she had Nick. And would her own child.

“Where’s her mother? She seems young to be on her own.”

“Gone.”

Her heart lurched. “She’s an orphan?”

“No, her mama drifted off a few weeks ago, probably looking for love again.” He half smiled. “Barn cats are fickle.” Logan squatted in front of Blossom. “Turn her around so I can see what I’m doing.”

He dipped a clean cloth in water and dabbed at her rear leg. The cat howled but Blossom held her steady. His midnight-blue gaze intent on the task, Logan made a second pass at the wound then prized the bottle from his rear pocket.

Blossom watched him work. “These past few days have been something. You should have DVM after your name.” Doctor of veterinary medicine.

“Running a ranch demands all kinds of skills. Mine are a bit rusty.”

Blossom didn’t have talents. He hadn’t liked the Greek gyro she’d made yesterday for lunch. And she’d never asked him about the menu.

After pouring disinfectant on the wound, he glanced up.

“What do you think?”

“Looks good.”

“She’d heal better with a few stitches, though. Let me get a needle.”

When he returned, her stomach felt queasy at the thought of sewing flesh.

She studied Logan’s bent head as he shaved off some fur, blocking her view of the kitten on her lap. She held on, gently, yet for dear life, watching his lean face mere inches from her stomach. The man had great cheekbones. She had to fight the foolish urge to comb her fingers through his dark hair, to touch his shadowed jawline.

His very concentration moved her, sent an unexpected rush of longing through her. Must be hormones, she thought. Pregnancy unbalanced a woman’s emotions big-time. So did Logan’s tenderness.

She didn’t realize the job was done until he sat back on his heels and flexed his shoulders.

He studied Blossom. “Okay? You look a little green.”

“I would never make a good nurse,” she said.

“You did fine.” He stroked the kitten, his fingers brushing Blossom’s hand. “We’ve done our part, little girl. Now we just need to...” He stood then glanced around. “Let’s use one of these horse blankets to make her a bed. She can rest here in the tack room. Then she won’t be tempted to run around.”

“I’ll bring her some water.”

“I’ll fix kitten chow for her later.” He looked at Blossom and broke the mood between them as abruptly as Ken might have done. “Don’t you have to cook dinner? And see to Sam?”

But this time Blossom wasn’t fooled.

“Logan.” It was the first time she’d used his given name and he stiffened, as if he expected some blow. She knew all about that. Still holding the kitten, she rose to face him. His gruffness with Sam, his sternness with her about the bison calf and the horse, his seeming indifference to Nick, were only a pose. To protect himself? Yet he’d also taken great care to shelter his son from the kitten’s wounds. He’d spoken gently to him just the way he’d softened his voice with Sam that first day. “You’re a fraud,” she said, “but in a good way.”

Lightly, she put a hand on his shoulder then lifted up on her toes to kiss his cheek so quickly her lips barely touched his face before she drew away. She’d misjudged him. His afternoon beard had felt like sandpaper, its texture so rough beneath her softer lips.

Blossom’s mind had gone numb. But her stomach had settled.

His muscled strength was something to rely on yet to be wary of.

Still, underneath beat the heart of a good man. She knew that now.

Too bad she couldn’t trust him.

* * *

BLOSSOM DIDN’T COME to the table for dinner that night. Logan ate alone. From upstairs he could hear her talking to Sam, eating with him instead.

Willy and Tobias were nowhere to be seen. Logan had had words with the two cowhands—bison hands, he ought to say—that first night after dinner, and both of them had been avoiding him ever since. He’d never seen two men volunteer faster to ride fence today to keep out of his way. Probably they were at the bunkhouse heating up a big can of spaghetti or ravioli. He hadn’t meant to sound harsh. But their teasing, their looks at Blossom had gotten to him and he’d lost his temper.

His mood was always precarious when he was at the ranch. He couldn’t seem to forget he’d nearly lost Nicky here. He had lost Libby, not that his marriage had ever been one made in heaven. She felt the same, he supposed.

He dug into the casserole Blossom had served before she slipped away upstairs. No steak again tonight. Mac and cheese? At least there was no way she could ruin that. The way he criticized her cooking, no wonder she preferred his grandfather’s company. Even though he and Blossom had gotten along pretty well earlier in the barn while he sewed up the kitten, and she’d surprised him with that quick kiss, she’d pulled back right after.

His face still burned. But it was their conversation he missed now.

When the landline rang, he jumped up from his seat. Any interruption from his train of thought, even a telemarketing call at dinnertime, would be almost welcome.

“Circle H,” he answered, ready to hang up at the latest sales pitch.

“Hey, brother.” To his amazement, Sawyer had finally called him back, and Logan fought another familiar twist of loss inside. How long had it been since they were in the same place at the same time? Since they’d talked the way they used to?

“I’ve been trying to get through to you for the better part of a week.”

As usual, Sawyer sounded unconcerned. “What’s up?”

“Sam busted his leg. Bad,” Logan said. “He was in the hospital for a few days, had surgery and now he’s confined to his room. Picture that.” He explained about the bleed and concussion that had rattled Sam’s brain and messed with his sense of balance. “Where are you?”

“Here and there.”

Logan rolled his eyes. Sawyer was always vague. About everything. It had been too long since they were boys, growing up on the Circle H after their dad and mom had died, learning from Sam how to be men. They’d been even closer than most brothers, inseparable as kids.

“You might think about coming back now and then.” He couldn’t bring himself to say home. The two of them hadn’t seen each other since Logan had married Libby.

“I’m sure you can handle things.”

“That’s it?” He had the sense Sawyer was about to hang up first.

“You’re the big brother. You’re in Kansas. I’m not.”

“I’m older by less than five minutes,” he reminded Sawyer. “We could really use some help here, Tom.” Sawyer didn’t laugh at the old nickname he’d been taunted with as a kid. It was as if he’d put their past behind him and moved on, determined to make a life for himself anywhere else. He’d cut all ties—which wasn’t that different from Logan’s plans. Yet he was the one here now. “I thought you liked horses and cows and getting your boots dirty.”

“Don’t own a pair of boots anymore.”

“Sawyer. Look.” He glanced at his plate of cold macaroni and cheese and wondered why Blossom was still upstairs. “I’m almost at the end of my rope. Sam’s not easy to keep down—you ought to know that—and I should be in Wichita. I’m up for a promotion there.”

“Hope you get it.”

“If I don’t show up soon, they’ll give it to someone else.” His worst rival.

“You’re the big captain of the skies. Took off first chance you got. You left me holding the bag then, Logan. You think I’ve forgotten that?”

“No,” he admitted. He’d come back after the service to marry Libby, and Sawyer had left. “But this is now.”

“I bet Sam hasn’t even mentioned my name. Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m busy with...whatever I’m busy with, so the answer’s no.” He paused. “Hire somebody.”

“I did. She’s temporary—and she’s a caregiver, not a cowhand.”

“Neither am I.”

“Sawyer—”

“Don’t,” he said. “I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t help.”

“Right back at you. And don’t try that ‘we’re twins’ bit with me, okay? I haven’t had a spooky twinge about you in years. I don’t know when you’re sick or you’re in trouble at the stick of some jet. You don’t know when I’m—” He broke off. “Ah, hell. Good that you’re still walking around. Tell Sam I said hey.”

“Sawyer...”

But the phone had gone dead in his hand.

“Is something wrong?” Blossom said from the kitchen doorway.

Yeah, there was. He just didn’t know what where his brother was concerned. Sawyer had been hiding something. I’m busy with...whatever I’m busy with. He turned to find Blossom holding a tray of dirty dishes and cutlery. If he wasn’t mad at Sawyer, even worried about him, he would have grinned. Sam had cleaned his plate again. He really liked Blossom’s cooking.

“My brother,” he finally said. “We don’t have much in common these days.”

“Is he coming home?”

“Because of Sam?” When she nodded, he said, “Nope. He’s busy.”

She looked shocked. “Too busy to visit his injured grandfather?”

“So he says.”

“I don’t think I’d like him, then.” Taking care not to come too close to Logan, she lugged the tray to the sink. He offered to take it from her, but she only stepped aside with a murmured “I’ve got it.” She pursed her lips as she began to rinse the dishes. “My dad was a difficult man, but if we needed him, he tried to be there.” She paused. “The trouble with that, he was often deployed somewhere—and couldn’t come.”

“Families can be tough.”

“Tell me.” Blossom loaded the dishwasher and smiled over one shoulder. “But I have good news. I let Sam sit in a chair tonight to eat dinner and when I helped him up, he barely stumbled.”

“Let us pray,” Logan said, although he couldn’t see Sam taking over the ranch again any time soon. Which made him all the more frustrated with Sawyer. At the least they could have taken turns on the Circle H—and Logan wouldn’t have to risk his promotion. His chance to fight for shared custody of Nicky.

“How’s the kitten doing?” he asked.

He’d seen Blossom hurry out to the barn several times since that afternoon. Although he’d fed the kitten, even stuck around to scratch her under the chin and talk a bit, Blossom acted as if the cat was in an ICU and needed constant care.

She blushed. “You saw me.”

“She doing all right, in your professional opinion?”

“Fine,” she said. “You did a good job with her stitches.”

“They won’t win her any beauty contests, but they’ll work.”

Blossom hesitated. “We should probably take her to the vet’s anyway,” she said. “I mean I could. Tomorrow. If that’s okay with you.”

“No need,” he said. “Unless it’s an emergency—which this isn’t—or something we can’t treat, we don’t bother the vet. Saves the ranch money, too. But I do have to go into town tomorrow.” Then Logan heard himself say, “You want to go with me? While I’m at the ag store for supplies, you can buy groceries and whatever else you’d like. I know the ranch can seem a lonely place for a woman.”

She didn’t answer at first. He shouldn’t have said anything.

Logan passed her the detergent for the dishwasher.

Maybe he hadn’t made himself clear. She needed to know he wasn’t putting any moves on her, just offering her a ride into Barren.

“About earlier today in the barn—”

“I shouldn’t have kissed your cheek,” she said, then in the next breath, “Yes. I’d like to go to town with you tomorrow.”

His insides unwound. “Okay, then. We’ll leave around nine.”

“I’ll fix breakfast,” she said. “A nice omelet.”

Logan nearly groaned aloud. At the table the mac and cheese, never his favorite, had congealed on his plate. He doubted her version of a Western omelet, which he normally liked, would be either.

“Let me buy you an early lunch instead,” he told her.