Читать книгу Call Of The West - Myrna Temte - Страница 10

Still fuming at dawn the next morning, Hope loaded her luggage into the rental car and wedged a thank-you note under the back door of the Flying M’s main house. She hated to leave like a thief in the night, but if she ran into Jake, she feared she would hit him. She’d mentally replayed their argument again and again during the night and couldn’t believe he’d actually said some of those things to her.

Flaky little California floozy, indeed.

Taking one last look around the ranch yard, she got into her car and drove down the long, winding lane. She turned right onto the graveled county road, intending to say goodbye to her good friend George Pierson at the Double Circle Ranch. Three miles later she rounded a familiar curve.

On impulse, she pulled over and parked the car. She got out, put her hands on her hips and slowly turned in a complete circle. Yes, this was the right spot.

No matter which way she faced, the scenery was breathtaking. Soaring, snow-capped mountains to the west, and to the north, south and east, the green of irrigated hay meadows, the long, tidy rows of fences and power lines beside the dusty road, the endless blue sky without even a wisp of a cloud in sight.

It was so quiet. So peaceful. So private.

There was room to breathe here. Really breathe. And there was a timelessness to this land that was evident in the rock outcroppings and gullies, in the subtle, shifting colors that stretched out to a horizon that went on forever. Nothing ever changed much in this country.

No wonder Jake and his family worked so hard to keep their piece of it.

What would it be like to belong here? To have a place of her own with some reasonable expectation of permanence? Where people stayed and businesses survived beyond the latest trends in entertainment, fashion and food.

She turned around again, shading her eyes with one hand as she looked her fill of this incredible landscape. Her chest ached with the beauty of it. With the longing somehow to be a part of it. With something close to grief at the prospect of leaving it.

But leave it, she must.

Heaving a deep, regretful sigh, she slid back into her car and drove the rest of the way to George’s place. His gangly, rambunctious pup galloped out to greet her when she parked at the back door. A semi-ugly mixture of several large breeds, the dog’s name was Doofus. Unfortunately, the name seemed to fit the animal quite well, but at least he was friendly.

Hope scratched his ears for a moment, then climbed the steps and waited for George to answer her knock. If his arthritis was acting up, it could take him a few minutes to get there. Somewhere around ninety and still blessed with an excellent memory, George had been telling her about the history of the area for the next book she wanted to write next.

He was cantankerous, blunt, meddlesome, nosy, opinionated and terribly prone to gossip. The juicier the better. Hope adored him.

George had outlived his friends, chased off most of his neighbors and infuriated his relatives to the point they barely tolerated him. But, to Sunshine Gap’s surprise, crusty old George Pierson appeared to adore Hope right back.

Opening the door, he looked out, his rheumy gray eyes alight with pleasure when he recognized her. He wore faded baggy jeans held up with orange suspenders, a yellow Western shirt and a ratty pair of brown leather slippers.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d be out of bed much before noon after that shindig yesterday. Why’s your hair black?”

“Because I’m in a black mood, George.” Hope leaned inside and kissed his wrinkled cheek. “May I come in?”

“Well, I reckon I can spare a few minutes, but you’ll have to make your own coffee.”

Though he had few visitors, George always acted as if spending a few minutes of his valuable time with her was a huge favor. Hiding a smile, Hope followed his thumping cane through the gloomy old house to the kitchen. He also claimed arthritis prevented him from doing much beyond the bare necessities for his survival, but Hope suspected he was malingering in order to get attention. He could be amazingly spry when he chose.

She gladly played along with him, filling his ancient percolator with cold water, adding the coffee and setting it on the stove. Turning around one of the straight-backed wooden chairs at the table, she straddled it, facing George’s rocker.

Once they both were seated, he smiled, showing off chewing-tobacco-stained teeth. “What do you want to know this time?”

“Actually, I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“What?” Rocking forward so hard his rocker squeaked in protest, George frowned at her, his bushy white eyebrows jutting out from his face. “You said you were stayin’ until you finished your book.”

“That’s what I’d planned,” Hope agreed, touched by how upset he was about her news. Other than Blair, she’d had few people in her life who cared if she stayed or left. “But sometimes plans have to change.”

“Why? What the hell’s happened?”

Hope tried to smile at him, but found herself surprisingly near tears instead. Jake wasn’t the only one she’d grown fond of in Sunshine Gap. She would miss this old man, the other McBrides, her dear friend, Emma, who had married Jake’s brother Cal. Hope wasn’t ready to leave any of them. But after that scene with Jake…

“Aw, jeez, don’t start blubberin’,” George grumbled, shifting restlessly in his chair. “Never could stand a blubberin’ woman.”

“Oh, get over it,” Hope grumbled back at him. “I’ll blubber if I want to. You won’t melt.”

Slapping his knee, the old man let out a cackle of laughter. “You’re somethin’ else, gal. Go ahead and bawl your head off if it makes you feel better.”

She uttered a shaky laugh and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “No, I’m okay now.”

He put the chair in motion, filling the room with soft creaking sounds. “Tell me what brought this on.”

Hope related an abbreviated version of what had happened at the wedding reception. With a few adroit questions, George dragged the rest of the story out of her. He kept rocking for several moments after she’d finished, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t have to go back to California.”

“Yes, I do. I can’t stay at the Flying M now.”

“You want Jake to think he can run you off that easy?”

“No, but there’s not even a decent motel in Sunshine Gap.”

“So find some other place to stay. Hell, stay here.”

“I couldn’t impose on you.”

“I invited ya, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“But nothin’. You wouldn’t be imposin’. This old house is so big, I rattle around in it all by myself. We could go for a week and not even see each other.”

“It’s not that big, George,” Hope said with a chuckle.

“Long as you don’t blubber all the time, I reckon we can get along well enough.” George’s expression turned shrewd. “Maybe we could even help each other out.”

The old man was up to something, but what? In spite of her better judgment, Hope asked, “How?”

“You love livin’ here. Around Sunshine Gap, I mean.”

She hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Something here calls to me. I don’t know quite what it is, but everything’s just so…real here. I don’t know if it’s the land or the people.”

“Could be the lack of people,” he suggested. “Must be mighty nice to drive down a road that ain’t all clogged up with traffic.”

“That’s true.” She smiled at him. “But it’s more than that. When I’m in Wyoming, I feel as if…as if I’m home. I can think here. And see life more clearly. I know I’ve done some of my best writing here.”

“Then why don’t you buy this place?”

Hope felt her mouth fall open and knew she was gaping at him. “The Double Circle?”

“It’s the only ranch I own. I won’t even try to rip you off ’cause you’re rich. All I want’s the fair market value.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why the hell not? I’m ninety-one years old, gal. When I croak, somebody’s gonna buy it. Might as well be you.”

“But I’m a writer. I don’t know anything about ranching.”

“That’s the beauty of my idea. I got a couple of conditions before I agree to this sale.”

“Conditions?” She might’ve known. There were always conditions, and they often were unacceptable.

Scowling, he shook his head at her as if she were trying his patience. “Hear me out before you get your drawers in a knot. First condition is, I can keep my room in this house as long as I want it. I ain’t afraid of dyin’, but I am afraid of bein’ helpless. If I get to where I need a nurse to take care of me, I’d like to have somebody I trust here to keep an eye on things. Make sure I’m treated right, ya know?”

Hope blinked at the sudden vulnerability in George’s wrinkled face. Having been raised by servants, she knew exactly how it felt to be dependent on people who weren’t always kind. But she didn’t dare show any emotion he might interpret as pity. “Of course,” she said in a businesslike tone. “What are the other conditions?”

“There’s just one. If you ever decide to sell this place, I want your word you won’t sell it to some developer who’ll cut it up into five-acre lots. That’s what my idiot nephew’ll do if he ever gets his hands on the Double Circle. Kid never was worth the bullet it’d take to shoot him.”

“I could live with your conditions, but I still don’t know anything about running a ranch. From what I’ve seen, it involves a great deal of hard work.”

“That it does, but I can teach you what you need to know, and you can always hire whatever help you need. Shoot, my hand Scott pretty much runs this place on his own.”

“But doesn’t Jake want the Double Circle?”

George grinned. “Yup. Jake’s wanted this ranch for years. Made me some nice offers and he helps me out when I need somebody to check up on Scott.”

“Then why don’t you sell it to him?”

“’Cause then I’d have to leave, and where would I go? Some damn nursing home? I’d rather be dead.”

“Surely you could make other arrangements—”

“Not in Sunshine Gap, and this is my home. Besides, Jake’d want to take over running everything, and I’m not ready to give it all up just yet. It’s a good place. You want it or not?”

Oh, she did want it. The Double Circle was smaller than the Flying M but every bit as pretty. And she loved this old house. Redecorating it would be a pleasure. She’d do the kitchen in French provincial, the garden in English casual and completely redo the bathrooms. She’d have to study up on antique furniture and—

The thought of having her very own house that wasn’t on anybody’s tourist map… But, as Jake had so bluntly pointed out, her sense of style wouldn’t exactly be appreciated, much less accepted around Sunshine Gap.

“I don’t think I really belong here, George.”

“Hell, girl, didn’t you get a thing I told you about the settlement of the West? Anybody could belong here if they wanted to bad enough. That’s why so many different kinds of people came out here.”

“That was the old West.”

“Horsefeathers. Long as you’re honest, halfway decent and a good neighbor, you’ll belong just fine. Don’t listen to Jake. He’s the one who put that fool idea in your head, isn’t he?”

Hope nodded stiffly, feeling hurt all over again. But while she was still angry at Jake, she wasn’t vindictive enough to take away something he’d wanted—and undoubtedly worked for—for years. And there was a gleam in George’s eyes she didn’t entirely trust. He was up to something, all right, but he wasn’t going to tell her about it. Until he did, she didn’t intend to commit herself to anything.

“It’s a big decision, George,” she said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“You do that,” he said, grinning again. “I want you to stay here while you’re thinkin’. Stay until you finish your book, anyway. What do you say?”

“I’d love to. May I use the room upstairs with the lovely view of the mountains?”

“You bet. By the way, do you cook?”

A week later Jake sat at his desk, studying his personal balance sheet with a critical eye. His cash flow would be awful tight if George Pierson accepted this new offer for the Double Circle, but Jake was getting so desperate for a place of his own, he didn’t give a rip. If he didn’t get away from the Flying M soon, he was bound to do or say something he might regret for years to come.

But it wouldn’t be without just cause.

Of course, being provoked by his big, complicated family was hardly anything new. His mother and Aunt Lucy were identical twins who had grown up in a village in Italy. His dad and Uncle Harry had met them while they were in Europe serving in the military.

After whirlwind courtships, the McBride brothers had married the twin sisters and brought them home to the Flying M. Between them, the two couples had produced seven children and raised them as siblings rather than cousins. As the oldest, Jake had been held responsible for keeping Zack, Dillon, Alexandra, Cal, Marsh and Grace out of trouble.

It hadn’t been easy. Since they’d all survived to adulthood, however, Jake figured he’d done a fine job of it. Not that it was doing him one bit of good now.

Though Hope hadn’t said a word about him in her goodbye note, Jake’s mother and Aunt Lucy were blaming him for Hope’s early departure. They’d loved having a famous author living in the guesthouse, and the idea that Hope preferred cranky old George Pierson’s company to the McBrides’ was, in their eyes, unthinkable. Every time the Mamas, as they were affectionately called, saw Jake, they glared at him, heaved sorrowful sighs and turned away, shoulders slumped, heads bowed as if in shame.

And they hadn’t cooked one blessed thing he liked since Hope had left.

It probably shouldn’t matter so much, but dammit, they’d always been proud of him before. It rankled that the two women he loved most would turn on him when he hadn’t done anything wrong. And all over some wacko woman from Hollywood.

His dad and Uncle Harry were driving him just as crazy, though for different reasons. They were supposed to be retired and leave the management of the Flying M to Jake. The arrangement had worked well while the four parents had been on an extended world tour for the past two years.

But now that they were home with nothing to divert their attention, neither Gage nor Harry McBride could resist the urge to “help” Jake tend to business. One or the other of them questioned every decision he made and griped over every innovation he’d instituted while they were gone. They were especially disgruntled to discover he’d put the ranch accounts onto a computer rather than using the old ledger system that “had been plenty good enough for three generations of McBrides.”

“If they’d just sit down and learn to use the computer, they could still see the books anytime they wanted,” Jake grumbled, knowing his dad and uncle weren’t going to touch that “dang machine” unless they absolutely had to. “And that’ll never happen as long as they’ve got me around to torture for information all the time.”

He loved his job. Loved the Flying M. Loved the Mamas and Papas. But he needed relief from the stress of living so close to them. Somebody was on his back all day, every day.

It wasn’t just the parents, either. Whenever he was in the ranch office, his brothers and sister felt entitled to ask him to do all kinds of things for them. It was time for all of them to grow up and handle their own problems.

Dammit, he needed a place where he could have some privacy. A place that was his and his alone to do with as he pleased. A place where he didn’t have to consult anyone or be responsible for anyone but himself. But he couldn’t be too far away in case of an emergency at the Flying M.

The only ranch close enough that might be for sale in the near future was George Pierson’s. Stashing his papers into their file folder, Jake grabbed his straw cowboy hat and hurried out to his pickup. He climbed in and drove off, intending to make that greedy, stubborn old coot an offer he couldn’t refuse.

And maybe, if Jake was real lucky, he could convince Hope to come back and stay in the Flying M’s guesthouse again. Then the Mamas would smile and cook his favorite meals again, and he could at least try to make up with Hope. Every time he remembered what he’d said to her the day of the wedding, he felt guilty all over again.

He hadn’t laid eyes on her since then, and the thought of seeing her now made him smile. He wouldn’t say he’d actually missed her. But without the possibility of Hope turning up with some flimsy excuse to see him, his days had seemed a little…flat.

Shaking his head at his own contrariness, Jake turned in at the Double Circle’s entrance. He drove around back and parked behind Hope’s little red car. Doofus ran across the yard to greet him. Jake leaned down and scratched the pup’s ears.

“Hey there, Doofus. You’d better stop growing or George might mistake you for a horse and throw a saddle on your back.” The possibility didn’t seem to worry Doofus much. He ran off when Jake pretended to throw a stick for him.

Chuckling, Jake climbed the steps to the back door and gave it a good, solid knock. George opened it a moment later, a surprisingly cheerful smile curving up the corners of his mouth. He stepped back out of the way and motioned for Jake to come in.

“Mornin’, Jake. What brings you out this way?”

Jake stepped over the threshold and took off his hat. “I want to talk to you if you’ve got time, George.”

“I reckon I can spare a few minutes.” Using his cane, George hobbled over to the round oak table and settled onto a straight-backed wooden chair.

Jake took the one adjacent to George’s and glanced around the kitchen. He saw new, colorful dishtowels hanging beside the sink in place of the dingy, ragged ones that usually hung there. A canning jar full of fresh flowers sat on top of a microwave oven that hadn’t been there the last time Jake visited the old man. Hope must be making herself at home.

“What can I do for ya?” George asked.

“Tell me what it’ll take to convince you to sell me the Double Circle,” Jake replied.

“Well, now, I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about that since the last time you tried to buy it.” George’s smile grew wider.

Jake’s heart swelled with hope until his chest hurt. This was the first time George had ever admitted he’d even considered selling the Double Circle. Jake had wanted this for so long, the desperation he’d felt earlier returned with a vengeance. Hardly daring to breathe, he said, “Yeah?”

George nodded. “Your offer was damn generous. But back then, I just couldn’t stand to let the place go.”

“What about now?” Jake asked, his voice tinged with the desperate agony of hope that had been dashed too many times before.

“I’d like to sell it to ya, Jake. I really would, but…”

His heart already plummeting, Jake read the refusal coming in George’s eyes. “But what?”

“But you better look for another place,” George said. “I’m gonna be usin’ this one myself for the foreseeable future.”

His stomach painfully clenching with disappointment, Jake stared at the old man. Then Jake’s temper got the best of him. “Dammit, George, what are you thinking?” he demanded. “You’re going to have to quit sometime. And you know good and well that even with a hired hand, you can’t handle this place anymore.”

“I won’t have to.” George’s eyes sparkled with an unholy glee Jake didn’t understand.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m tired of bein’ alone.” George ran one hand over the top of his head as if he still had hair up there to smooth down. “I’m thinkin’ about gettin’ married again. Maybe havin’ some kids this time.”

“Married?” Jake sputtered. “Kids?”

“Yeah. You know, babies. Heirs.”

Jake’s mouth fell open. Had the old boy finally gone completely senile? Jake doubted there was a woman of child-bearing age in a hundred-mile radius who’d even pretend to consider such a thing.

A soft, whispery sound distracted him. He glanced up in time to see Hope saunter into the kitchen, wearing a shiny purple robe that barely reached the middle of her thighs. Her hair was slicked back as if she’d just stepped out of the shower. He’d never seen it black before.

Hope’s gaze met his, her eyes widening as if he was the last person she’d expected—or wanted—to see in George’s house. She hesitated a fraction of a second, then turned toward the counter beside the sink and crossed the room without so much as another glance in Jake’s direction. Jake gritted his teeth and found himself watching the sway of her hips beneath that short robe and wondering what, if anything, she had on beneath it.

Her slender legs looked smooth and tanned, and when she went up on her tiptoes to take two coffee mugs from the cupboard, her calf muscles stood out in sharp relief. Jake held his breath while the back of her robe hiked up—but not quite high enough to satisfy his curiosity about her underwear. Or the lack of it.

Lowering her heels to the floor, she moved to her right, filled the mugs with coffee and carried them to the table. She set one mug in front of George, then affectionately patted his bony shoulder, took the chair on his other side and sipped from the second mug.

George glanced over at her, his eyebrows arched in query. “Aren’t you gonna offer Jake some coffee?”

“No,” she replied with a grin. “He might stay longer if I did.”

Jake refused to acknowledge her deliberate rudeness. His sister Alex used to start fights with outrageous remarks and he’d learned not to get suckered in by them. George opened his mouth as if he might protest, but Jake held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about it, George. I don’t want coffee.”

“Don’t know what you’re missing, boy. Hope brews a mean cup.” George exchanged a warm smile with Hope that chilled Jake’s blood.

No. It couldn’t be. Hope wouldn’t take up with an old guy like George. Would she?

Jake gave his head a hard shake in denial, but the shocking idea remained. Hope wasn’t from Wyoming. He didn’t have a clue about what she would or wouldn’t do. Sure wouldn’t be the first time a young, pretty gal married an old man for his money. Happened all the time. Especially in a place like Hollywood.

She scowled at him. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“What way?” Jake asked.

“As if you think I’m going to steal George’s silverware.”

George snorted with laughter. “It ain’t that, hon. I just told Jake I can’t sell him the Double Circle.”

“Yeah, he claims he’s thinking about getting married and having some kids.” Jake’s voice sounded harsh in his own ears, but he was too upset to care. “Any truth in what he says?”

Confused, Hope glanced at George, raising her eyebrows in a silent plea for a clue as to what was going on. Tilting his head ever so slightly toward Jake, George gave her a sly wink. Why, the old devil wanted her to play along with him, but what was he up to now?

Deciding to give him the benefit of her considerable doubt, she turned back to Jake with a shrug. “You know George. When he decides to be charming, almost anything’s possible.”

Jake’s tanned complexion flushed a dull red. His eyes glinting dangerously and a vein pulsing in the middle of his forehead, he ground out, “A week ago, you were all over me.”

“And you called me ‘a flaky little California floozy.’” Reminding herself of Rule Number Two—never let them see when words stung, Hope smiled at him. “I got over you in a hurry.”

“Obviously. But I didn’t realize you were so desperate. Are book sales that bad?”

“My book sales are just fine. Not that they’re any of your business.”

“Give it up, DuMaine. You’re not serious about George.”

This conversation was making less and less sense as it went on, but Hope bristled at the derision and the demand in Jake’s voice. She really hated it when somebody tried to tell her what she thought or felt. Whatever his problem was, she wasn’t going to allow Jake McBride to take it out on her or on George.

“Well, unlike some people, he’s always been extremely sweet to me,” she said.

Jake’s face turned an even darker red. His nostrils flared and his hands curled into fists. “That’s no reason to marry a man old enough to be your grandfather.”

“M-marry him?” Hope sputtered, looking from Jake to George and back to Jake. Good lord, what exactly had George said to him? She’d have to thrash it out with him later. “My plans are none of your business.”

Shaking his head, Jake grumbled something unintelligible, then stood up so fast his chair scraped the linoleum floor like a fingernail down a chalkboard. “I’ve gotta say, the two of you make quite a pair. I hope you’ll be damn happy together.”

With that, he left the room, slamming the back door behind him.

Hope turned on George. “What on earth was that all about?”

George cackled wickedly. “Aw, I was just havin’ a little fun with Jake. Sure gets pompous, don’t he?”

Her throat too tight to speak, Hope nodded.

“And imagine him thinkin’ you were after my money.” George chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll bet you could buy me a hundred times and not even feel a pinch in your pocketbook.”

“Why that…” Hope muttered as the truth of what George was saying sank into her brain. “He really thinks I’m a gold digger. Doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, that’s why he asked about your book sales,” George said. “Didn’t you get that?”

“No, it all happened so fast and I was too busy trying to figure what you were doing.” She smacked her palm against her forehead. “Oh, duh, DuMaine.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve got him runnin’ scared. Serves him right for thinkin’ so poorly of you.”

Hope’s heart contracted painfully, then filled with a burning, righteous anger she knew only too well. George was right. Only Jake deserved worse than to be running scared. For thinking such awful things about her, he deserved to lose the Double Circle.

“As long as I fulfill your conditions are you still willing to sell me the Double Circle for fair market value?” she asked.

“Hell, yes.” George stuck out his hand. “Deal?”

She took his hand and shook it. “Deal.”

She’d needed a major life change for a long time, and now she was going to make it. She was going to get out of L.A. and move to Sunshine Gap. She was going to take a pen name and write historical novels. She was going to live a simpler, more meaningful life at a slower, saner pace. She was going to make real friends, be a part of a real community and have a real home. Dammit, she was going to belong here if she had to give up her fake fingernails and hair dye to do it.

And Jake McBride could take his low opinion of her and sit on it.