Читать книгу Her Hill Country Cowboy - Myra Johnson - Страница 13
ОглавлениеWith last-minute preparations for the reunion guests, Christina had little time to dwell on Seth Austin’s mercurial moods. Seemed he could go from caring and considerate to simmering animosity at the drop of a dusty Stetson.
Also, if she read the situation correctly, he still had unresolved feelings for his late wife. Or ex-wife. Or late ex-wife. Christina still wasn’t totally clear on which label applied. And she definitely wasn’t clear on why it should matter to her, because the last thing she needed in her life was a tall, good-looking cowboy with issues of his own.
Even if his two kids were adorably precious.
When the first of the weekend guests rolled in on Thursday afternoon, Christina thought it wise to get out of the way for a while. She snapped on Gracie’s car harness and buckled her into the passenger seat, then headed for town.
Passing the spot where she’d first encountered Seth brought a quiver to her stomach, so she kept her eyes forward until she turned onto Main Street. Downtown Juniper Bluff appeared no busier now than it had been two days ago when she’d first driven through, which was a good thing because since the accident, Christina didn’t easily abide noise and confusion—another reason she hoped moving to a small town would help her ease back into normal life.
The sun-dappled town square looked peacefully inviting. Christina parked on a side street and walked over with Gracie, and they followed the path to the foot of the horse-and-rider statue. Christina read the inscription on the plaque beneath.
Jake Austin.
Juniper Bluff’s Hometown Hero.
According to the plaque, Austin was a search-and-rescue volunteer who met his death twenty-two years ago while freeing a family trapped in their overturned car.
A tremor raced through Christina as images from her own accident surfaced. Determinedly shaking them off, she focused on the man’s features forever preserved in bronze. The resemblance to Seth was uncanny. Could Jake Austin be his father? If so, Seth would have been a young boy at the time, probably about Joseph’s age. So very young to lose a parent.
Gracie nudged Christina’s hand, the dog’s quiet signal that she sensed Christina’s tension level climbing. How an animal knew such things, Christina had no idea. She was grateful nonetheless and made a conscious effort to relax.
“Okay, girl, let’s walk. After two days of maid’s work, I need to stretch the kinks out.”
After an hour or so of meandering around the square and peeking in a couple of interesting shops, they headed back to the car. Before leaving town, Christina stopped at the supermarket and picked up a rotisserie chicken and small container of three-bean salad. Marie had been cooking all day, and the family would have dinner in the main dining room with the ranch guests. Marie had invited Christina to join them, but Christina doubted she could endure the socializing—or Seth’s annoyed glares—without her dog close by. A quiet supper in her cabin sounded much more appealing.
Hard work and tranquil surroundings were definitely conducive to a good night’s sleep, and Christina awoke the next morning feeling more energized than she had in a long time. The sun had barely peeked over the hills when she trekked to the workroom to organize her housekeeping supplies. As soon as the guests had gone to the main house for breakfast, she trundled the maid’s cart down the path and set to work. She easily finished making beds and freshening bathrooms in the two occupied cabins before the families returned.
Consulting her checklist, she made sure everything was in order in the other three cabins reserved for the weekend, then pushed the cart back to the workroom and deposited a pile of damp towels in the laundry bin. By then, her morning burst of energy had waned. Ready to put her feet up for a bit while sipping a cold drink, she trudged outside.
“Christina!” Marie called from the porch. “Can you come in the house for a minute and give me a hand with something?”
“Sure.” Christina waved and started that way. The soft chair and cold drink would have to wait.
In the kitchen, Christina found Marie huddled over a red-faced, teary-eyed Joseph, perched on a chair at the end of the trestle table. The little boy cradled his left hand and refused to let Marie see it.
Christina hurried forward. “What happened?”
“He was playing in the barn and got a big ol’ splinter. Now he won’t let me pull it out.”
“Ouch.” Offering Joseph a sympathetic smile, Christina knelt in front of him, Gracie at her side. “If I promise not to touch it, would you hold your hand out for me to see?”
“Y-you promise?” He started to extend his hand, then jerked it back. “You can’t let Omi touch it, either.”
“Absolutely not. What if Omi and I both tuck our hands into our back pockets? Will you show us then?”
Joseph thought a moment, then nodded. He opened his left hand to reveal an ugly splinter embedded deep into his grime-covered palm. If they didn’t get the splinter out and clean the wound, infection was sure to follow.
“Wow, that’s pretty nasty,” Christina murmured. She skewed her lips. “Hmm, seems to me you have two choices.”
He looked up with a worried frown.
“Well, if you don’t let Omi pull out the splinter and clean up your hand, you might have to go to the doctor for a shot.”
Joseph gasped and tucked the injured hand beneath his other arm. “No shots!”
Marie patted the boy’s shoulder. “Christina’s right, I’m afraid. Please, Joseph—”
“But it’ll hurt!”
“I have an idea,” Christina said. “Whenever I’m scared or worried or hurting, I just hug on Gracie, and pretty soon I feel better. I bet she’d let you pet her while Omi takes care of your hand.”
Swallowing, Joseph cast the dog a leery glance, then studied his palm. It seemed forever before he finally whispered, “Okay, I’ll try.”
With an inner sigh of gratitude, Christina rose and led Gracie around to Joseph’s right side. “Now, then, you keep all your attention on Gracie and don’t pay any mind to what Omi’s doing.”
She nodded at Marie, who stood ready with an alcohol-sterilized sewing needle and tweezers. Marie pulled a chair closer and sat down, then gently placed Joseph’s injured hand on her lap. While Christina talked softly to the boy and had him stroke Gracie’s soft fur, Marie quickly and efficiently plucked out the splinter.
Joseph looked around in surprise. “It’s out?”
“Sure is!” Marie held up the wood fragment for him to see.
“It’s...so big!” He grinned up at Christina. “And I didn’t feel a thing.”
She tousled his hair. “Thank Gracie. She’s the best, isn’t she?”
Marie stood. “Now we need to get you washed up and put some antibiotic ointment on your hand.”
Joseph turned to Christina. “Can Gracie come, too?”
“Of course.”
The three of them, plus Gracie, traipsed down the hall to the bathroom. After Marie finished treating the wound, they returned to the kitchen as Seth and Eva came in the back door.
At the sight of Gracie, Eva shrieked and leaped into Seth’s arms. Shielding his little girl, Seth glowered at Christina.
This time she refused to be intimidated. “I’m sorry for scaring Eva, but my dog just saved your son from an infected wound.”
Doubt clouding his eyes, Seth looked from Christina to his grandmother. “You got the splinter out?”
“We did.” Marie patted Gracie’s head. “Couldn’t have done it without this sweet thing.”
Now they had Eva’s attention. Still clinging to her father’s neck, she peeked down at Gracie, then shot her brother a worried frown.
“It’s true, Eva,” Joseph said. “I petted the dog the whole time Omi fixed my hand and it didn’t hardly hurt at all!”
Marie reached for Eva. “Come on, sweetie, and I’ll fix you kids some chocolate milk.” Balancing the little girl on her hip, she raised a brow in Seth’s direction. “Why don’t you take Christina down to the picnic area and y’all can start setting up for tonight’s barbecue.”
Seth’s expression said spending time with Christina was the last thing he cared to do, but he didn’t argue. With a deferential nod, he extended one arm toward the back door. “After you.”
* * *
Leave it to his grandmother to put him in yet another awkward position. Seth would have liked a little more time to accept the notion that Christina’s dog had actually proved helpful. Although Joseph’s surprisingly sunny attitude made it pretty clear.
In the barn earlier, when Seth first heard his son’s yelp of pain, he’d tried to remove the splinter himself.
“No! Let Omi do it!” Joseph had screamed.
Seth had sent him on to the house, hoping his grandmother would get the deed done before Seth finished his barn chores and caught up. Times like these were when the kids most needed a mother’s gentle touch. Omi was the next best thing, but Seth knew his son well enough to realize even Omi would have her hands full in this situation.
He cast a sidelong glance at the woman walking beside him. The words thank you sat on the tip of his tongue, but stubbornness prevented him from forcing them out.
Halfway to the lakeside picnic area, Christina broke the silence. “What exactly do we need to do out here?”
Halting in his tracks, Seth slapped a palm against his forehead and groaned. “It would help if I’d remembered to get the picnic supplies from the storeroom.”
“I was wondering...” She offered a pert grin, and Seth figured he should be glad that was the worst of it.
“You can wait here if you want. Won’t take me long.”
“No, I’ll help. I need to know where to find things.”
“Suit yourself.” Seth pivoted and strode toward the garage. He didn’t look back to see if Christina followed, but the soft crunch of sneakers and dog paws on the gravel drive told him she wasn’t far behind.
Rounding the garage, he stopped at the storeroom door and fumbled in his pockets.
“Something wrong?” Christina asked.
“Don’t have my keys with me.”
“Allow me.” Nudging him aside, Christina used her set of housekeeping keys to unlock the door. She pushed it open, then mimicked his earlier gallantry to motion him inside.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
She tilted her head, one brow arched accusingly. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
With a roll of his eyes, Seth released a weak chuckle. “I deserved that. So let me try again. Thanks for getting the door. And thanks for helping get Joseph’s splinter out.”
“You’re welcome. Now, where are those picnic supplies?”
A few minutes later, Seth had loaded three plastic crates and some cleaning supplies onto a utility wagon. Once again, they started for the lake, and this time the tension between them wasn’t quite so thick. At the picnic area, the dog stretched out in the grass while Seth and Christina began wiping down tables and benches. Then Seth unfolded a blue gingham tablecloth. He took one end and handed Christina the other, and together they smoothed it across the first table. Seth found a container of specially made clips, which they used to secure the cloth in place.
The breeze shifted, and Christina paused to sniff the air. “Something smells wonderful!”
“That’d be the brisket Opi’s smoking. Best in Texas, if you ask me.”
“We have pretty good barbecue in Arkansas, too.”
Seth scoffed as he shook out another tablecloth. “Only because of the Texans who moved there. And I bet y’all don’t have sauce as good as what my grandmother makes.”
Fastening down her side of the cloth, Christina winked. “Don’t tell me—it’s a secret family recipe.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Seth’s hand brushed hers as he smoothed out a wrinkle, and he felt the tingle all the way to his knees. He quickly straightened, clearing his throat. “I should get back. I need to gather some wood for the fire pit.”
“Oh. Okay.” Did she sound a little bit disappointed? “Anything else I need to do here?”
“One of the crates has some table decorations. Candles and globes, flowers, greenery. You’ll do better with those than I would.”
Christina slanted him a teasing look of disdain. “Why? Because I’m a girl?”
“Believe me, you don’t want to see the mess I’d make trying to put a centerpiece together.”
“If you say so.” Christina turned to peer inside one of the crates. She pulled out a handful of artificial bluebonnets and a box of candles. “What should I do with all this stuff when I finish?”
“I’ll bring the wagon back with the firewood and then haul the crates to the storeroom.” Hands on hips, he glanced around. “You’ll probably be done before then, so just leave everything where it is.”
As he turned to go, Christina called out to him. “Seth?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
His forehead bunched. “For what?”
“For giving me a chance.”
A fresh wave of guilt swept through him. “I haven’t been real good about it so far, have I?”
“No, but I understand why now. And I’m in no position to judge.”
Seth cringed as his grandmother’s admonition came back to bite him. “I’m sure not, either.” He paused while a beefy aroma drifted his way on the morning breeze. He had plenty of other things to do, but for some crazy reason he couldn’t seem to get his feet moving. Pointing to the bluebonnet sprigs Christina was attempting to arrange around a candle globe, he said, “It works better if you use one of those Styrofoam thingies.”
Christina looked up with an arched brow. “And you said you didn’t know anything about centerpieces.” Her expression softened into an endearing smile. “So will you give me a hand? Because I’m really not the artsy-craftsy type.”
He opened his mouth to say yes, then snapped it shut. This was so not happening. Not again. Against his will, memories of Georgia crept in. He’d fallen for her during their junior year at Texas A&M, lured by crystal-blue eyes, silky blond hair and an invitation to help her stuff envelopes for a sorority fund-raiser she was heading up. Eight months later, they were married.
Eight years later, he’d found himself standing at his ex-wife’s graveside and wondering how it had come to this. Wondering how he’d ever explain to his kids why they’d never see their mother again.
No, they’d had enough heartache in their short lives. Seth had experienced more than his share, too. He wouldn’t risk letting another woman slip through the chinks in his armor.
“Whatever you do will be fine,” he muttered.
Without a backward glance, he marched to the house. About time to check on his kids. Eva never liked him out of her sight for long and was probably pestering Omi about going to find her daddy right now.
He walked into the kitchen to a very different scene. While his grandmother stood at the counter chopping vegetables, Joseph and Eva perched on barstools and nibbled string cheese. Engrossed in her brother’s recounting of his splinter experience and “Miss Christina’s amazing doggy,” Eva hardly acknowledged Seth’s arrival.
The realization that he hadn’t been missed—and the reason why—cut deep. For the space of a nanosecond, he forgot how to breathe.
“Hey, Seth.” Omi’s cheery greeting snapped him out of it. “How’s it going with the picnic setup?”
“Fine. Christina’s putting the centerpieces together.”
“So what are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be helping?”
He swiped a carrot stick and bit off a piece, then chewed with a vengeance so he wouldn’t have to answer right away. “She’s managing,” he mumbled over a mouthful, then grabbed a slice of zucchini.
Omi slapped his hand. “Those are for the barbecue tonight. And you shouldn’t have left her on her own. She’s still learning how we do things around here.”
“Seems plenty capable to me.” He wouldn’t mention Christina’s lopsided fake-bluebonnet arrangement.
The chopping knife came down hard on an unsuspecting green pepper. “Seth Jacob Austin, if you aren’t the biggest scaredy-cat I ever did see.”
He wouldn’t deny it. Because he couldn’t. So he didn’t say anything, just spun on his heel and walked out.
* * *
Christina adjusted the greenery around a glass hurricane shade. She’d tried to tell Seth this wasn’t her area of expertise, and now everyone at Serenity Hills Guest Ranch would realize it, too. With a groan of futility, she gathered up the leftover centerpiece materials and packed them into a crate.
Peering up the sloping path, she looked for signs of Seth’s return. He’d stormed off so fast that he’d forgotten to take the utility wagon with him. Christina wondered when, or if, he’d return with his load of firewood and then help her get these crates back to the storeroom.
“Guess we’re on our own, Gracie.” Gripping the wagon handle, Christina dug deep for the strength to tow the unwieldy contraption up the hill.
By the time she reached the storeroom, her back and shoulders ached and her left hip was cramping again. She moved one of the crates to the floor and sank onto it while she waited for the ache to subside.
Bryan Peterson appeared in the doorway, a concerned frown creasing his weathered face. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Just taking a short break.” Christina tried to smile as she massaged her hip. “Is there anything else you need me to do right now?” Please say no.
“We’re in good shape. Marie might need a hand in the kitchen later, though. She’s cookin’ up a storm for the barbecue.”
“I’ve been smelling the brisket all morning.” Christina’s stomach underscored her remark with a loud growl.
Bryan guffawed. “I’ll take that as a compliment!” He ambled over to a shelf and poked around. “Say, that dog of yours sure made a hit with Joseph. Just came from the house, and he had to tell me all about how Gracie kept him from being scared while Omi doctored his hand.”
Christina’s chest warmed. She bent to give Gracie a hug around the neck and inhaled the comforting, musky-sweet scent of dog fur. “She’s sure been a blessing to me.”
Tugging a flat, oblong box from the shelf, Bryan asked, “How long have you had her?”
“Ever since I got out of rehab after the accident.” Glancing away, Christina exhaled slowly as the memories resurfaced. “For a while, I was terrified to even ride in a car, much less drive again. But with Gracie beside me...somehow she keeps the fear at bay.”
“Interesting. Sorry to say I didn’t know much about service dogs for your kind of trauma before Marie explained how Gracie helps you.” Lips skewed, Bryan looked toward the open door. “I worry about Seth’s kids. Worry about him, too.”
“That’s understandable.” Christina hesitated. “I guess you know in my former life I was a social worker. My specialty was children and families.”
“Yeah, Marie mentioned it was on your job application.” A nervous look flickered behind his eyes. “Best you don’t bring it up around Seth, though. He’s not too keen on social workers.”
“Really? Why?” Christina couldn’t fathom why any parent with kids as emotionally wounded as Seth’s would refuse whatever help he could find.
“Long story,” Bryan said with a sigh, “and I probably shouldn’t be telling it, but since Seth won’t talk about it, seems somebody ought to.”
He set down his box, pulled over a step stool and plopped down. Speaking in hushed tones, and with repeated glances toward the door, he described how Georgia Austin’s career had taken off and she’d urged Seth to move the family to Minneapolis. He’d refused, insisting their home was here in Juniper Bluff, and if she truly loved him and the kids, she wouldn’t need a fancy job in a big city to feel complete.
“Seth fought long and hard to save his marriage,” Bryan went on. “Fought even harder for custody of those kids. Then Georgia got sick, and that’s when a social worker stepped in. She convinced Georgia the kids would be better off with Georgia’s sister and her husband, who had a nice home in Tulsa and boy-and-girl twins a couple years older than Joseph.”
“A ready-made family,” Christina acknowledged with a nod.
“Exactly. A far sight better, in her opinion, than placing the kids with an angry, broken single dad and his aging grandparents on a barely-making-it guest ranch.”
“Obviously, Seth won.”
Bryan’s mouth hardened. “Almost didn’t. Between the social worker and the high-powered lawyers Georgia’s family hired, he had the fight of his life.” Groaning, he pushed to his feet and hefted the box he’d come for. With a kindly but pointed glance at Christina, he stated, “So, like I said, best not mention the social worker thing around Seth.”
Left alone in the storeroom, she massaged her hip while pondering everything she’d learned about this troubled family in the three short days since her arrival. Her initial thoughts about God’s having brought her here for a reason now gave way to doubt, because she suspected Seth would never be open to the kind of help she’d been trained to give.
For all the good her training had done her personally. The adage physician, heal thyself played through her mind. A master’s degree and four years’ on-the-job experience hadn’t prepared her for the aftermath of the accident that nearly cost her life—and not only hers but that of the innocent child in her care.
A stabbing pain arced through her skull. Even with both fists pressed to her temples, she couldn’t halt the parade of images behind her eyelids, or the voices screaming in her head.
“I’m taking Haley to the hospital, Mr. Vernon. Please don’t try to stop me. The police are on their way.”
“She’s my kid! You got no right to lay a hand on her!”
But the brute of a man already had, and more than once, judging from the blood and bruises. As Christina carried the sobbing child toward the car, the ominous click of a shotgun hurried her steps. She’d barely gotten Haley buckled into a child safety seat when the first blast from the gun rang in her ears.
Before the second shot, she was behind the wheel, gunning the engine and barreling down the potholed lane.
She never even saw the loaded dump truck bearing down on them, only heard the scream of the horn, her own terrified shriek, and the crunch of collapsing metal and shattering glass before everything went black.
At Gracie’s whimpers and insistent nudges, Christina wrapped her trembling arms around the dog’s neck. Without the strength to stand, much less get herself to her cabin, she could do nothing more than hold on and wait—pray!—for the memories to pass. As she had every moment of her life since that day, she thanked God that little Haley Vernon had suffered only a broken arm as a result of the crash. The child now resided with a loving aunt and uncle in South Carolina, safely beyond her abusive father’s reach.
From somewhere far away, a man’s voice penetrated. “Christina, can you hear me? Are you okay?”
She lifted her head and met Seth’s worried gaze. Ignoring the high-pitched hum in her ears, she dredged deep for what little control she could muster. “I’m...fine. A dizzy spell, that’s all. I—I think I’m dehydrated.”
Before she could blink twice, a bottle of water appeared in Seth’s hand—where it came from, she had no idea. Kneeling in front of her, he unscrewed the top and helped her tip the bottle to her lips. “Better? Honestly, you don’t look so good.”
The kind and gentle Seth was back, but much as she appreciated this side of him, right now she’d have preferred a little more gruffness. If he were any nicer to her, she’d melt into a soggy puddle of tears. With great care, she forced herself to stand. “Really, I’m okay. I just need to lie down for a while.”
“And eat something. It’s past noon.” He tucked a steadying hand at her elbow, which was a good thing because her legs felt like overcooked noodles. “I’m sorry I left you by yourself earlier. Let me walk you to your cabin.”
If she refused, he might end up scraping her off the path and towing her to the cabin in his utility wagon. To keep her dignity intact, she muttered a terse “Okay, thanks,” and hoped he didn’t notice how heavily she leaned on him. “Let’s go, Gracie.”
