Читать книгу The Rancher's Doorstep Baby - Patricia Thayer - Страница 4

IT WAS time to move on.

Cole Parrish spread the fresh straw around the horse stall. In truth, it was past time to make his departure. He’d never stayed anyplace this long. Four months he’d been at the Bar H Ranch. After the heart attack of the foreman, Cy Parks, Cole couldn’t leave the owner to fend for herself all alone.

He braced the pitchfork against the railing and pushed his hat back. The familiar restlessness gnawed at his gut, urging him to leave. He was getting far too attached to this place but the sooner he got out of here the better. The last thing he needed was more memories to carry away with him. He had enough of those to last a lifetime.

That was why he had to go now. And he had to tell Rachel Hewitt. Today.

Determined not to put off the task any longer, Cole walked out of the stall and through the barn. Outside, he looked toward the two-story frame ranch house across the compound. At one time it had been painted white, but like the rest of the place, the structure could use a new coat of paint along with a few repairs.

It would only take him a couple weeks to do the job…He shook his head. No. This wasn’t his problem. He was leaving.

Before he reached the house, a young Rachel Hewitt came out on the porch. As on every other day she wore her usual work clothes—faded jeans and a man’s shirt. Her long, raven mane was tied back in a long braid, exposing her pretty oval face. She was tall and solidly built, but there was something about her expression that suggested a fragile quality. His gaze met her golden-brown eyes and he felt his chest constrict, making it difficult to draw a breath.

He definitely had to leave. Soon.

“Rachel,” he called as he approached her. “If you have a minute, I need to talk with you.”

“What is it, Cole?” She gripped the porch post and smiled, but it didn’t hide her fatigue. He doubted she’d gotten much sleep, what with running the house and doing the work of a ranch hand. Not that anything had changed since her father’s death two years ago. He’d heard stories that old Gib Hewitt had run the Bar H from his wheelchair, but Rachel had been the one who did the physical work.

Cole had stayed so long because he knew Gib had given power of attorney to a lawyer until his daughter turned thirty. Rachel couldn’t afford to pay much to ranch hands and Cole couldn’t allow her to struggle on alone. That was the reason why his leaving would be so hard on her. But he had to do it.

He didn’t do permanence…not anymore.

He stood at the bottom of the porch steps. “I’m giving my notice. I’ll be leaving in a week,” he said straight out.

He watched as her eyes widened in panic, then she quickly masked it. “You said you’d stay on a while. You know Cy can’t do the work by himself.”

Cole caught himself fighting a smile. “You better not let him hear you saying that.” Cy Parks had been at the Bar H for nearly thirty years. She was right. He wasn’t capable of handling it all by himself anymore. But this ranch wasn’t big by Texas standards, a three-man operation at best. “Since spring roundup is over, things should be quiet for a time. He can manage feeding the stock. That should give you time to hire someone else.”

Rachel didn’t want to hire someone else. For one thing, she couldn’t afford to. She wasn’t even sure how much longer she’d be able to pay Cole. Although he was a drifter, she trusted the man. He was a hard worker. He was the one who’d been with Cy when he had his heart attack, giving him CPR and saving his life. Cole had kept him alive until the ambulance had arrived from town.

“There’s no one else to hire. Most of the available men have moved onto the bigger operations around San Angelo.”

“I’m headed there, too.”

“Look if it’s the money…”

He shook his head. “Just need a change of scenery. I’ll work to the end of the week and if you like, try to find a replacement.”

Cole Parrish was a handsome man, with his dark hair and piercing gray eyes. There were times when she saw such sadness in their depths, it made her want to cry. He must have his reasons for leaving, and she shouldn’t try to stop him. “Thank you, Cole. That would be a big help.”

He tipped his hat, then turned and walked back toward the barn. Rachel couldn’t help but watch his departure with appreciation. A chambray shirt covered his wide shoulders but it couldn’t hide his rock solid build. Years of rough ranch work showed in the muscle definition across his back and slim waist. He had a loose-hipped gait that showed off some attitude. All cowboys had a little cockiness about them. A gush of heat washed over her, making her insides ache. Since the day Cole Parrish had arrived at the ranch, she’d experienced this feeling many times.

Definitely Gib Hewitt would not approve. Rachel caught her breath and turned away. She’d loved her father, but he’d ruled with a strict hand when it came to his daughters. He’d lectured often to her and her younger sister, Sarah, on the evils of the world. Although he’d never said it to her face, she knew he’d been afraid they’d end up loose women like their mother.

Georgia Hewitt had left them when Rachel was ten and Sarah only five. Rachel tried not to hate her mother, but the abandonment she and her sister had felt never left them. After high school, Sarah was eager to leave and had begged Rachel to go away with her. In the end, Rachel couldn’t desert her father and Sarah ran off to follow her dream.

Now, Sarah and her father were both gone. Rachel blinked away the threatening tears and walked into the house. Soon she’d be running the ranch on her own. That frightened her.

It also excited her.

At supper time Cole forced himself to walk through the back door just as he had for the past months. It was so familiar—too familiar. After this week, no more. No more seeing Rachel’s smile and the special touches she added to everything.

Besides cooking the meals and caring for the house, she’d climb on a horse and move cattle just like any of the men. She put in twelve-hour days and never asked anyone to do a job she wasn’t willing do.

Cole hung his hat on the rack, and stepped inside the dreary kitchen. Like the outside of the house, the walls needed paint. The linoleum was worn through to the pattern and the cabinet doors needed repair. Despite all that, the room was spotlessly clean.

At the stove, Rachel turned toward him and smiled. It sent a jolt of awareness through him. He found he’d been looking forward to seeing her. A man could get used to meeting this woman at the end of the day.

Just not him.

“Rachel.” He nodded as he made his way to the table set for three.

After they sat down Rachel spoke. “Cole, I want to thank you for helping me out these past months. It was wrong of me earlier to try to get you to stay on. You have been more than generous with your time.”

Why did she have to be so nice? “You’re welcome. If there’s anything I can help you with before I leave, let me know.”

His gaze met hers and a new stirring erupted in his gut. Desire. He could see it mirrored in her eyes, too. He glanced at her breasts, watching the rapid movement of her breathing. His common sense told him to stop, but his hunger wouldn’t let him. At that moment a noise pulled his attention away as Cy came through the back door.

The old guy ambled to the table. His thin white hair was combed straight back, his face tanned and weathered by years of being in the sun, and his broad smile, causing tiny lines to form around his hazel eyes. On his doctor’s orders, he’d lost weight in the past month and changed his diet.

He hitched up his too-big jeans. “Well, it looks like I didn’t miss anything.”

“As if you’d be late for a meal,” Cole murmured, then walked to the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of water. He filled the glasses as Rachel set roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and garden-fresh green beans on the table.

“Darlin’, I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Cy said.

“Oh, Uncle Cy, you say that no matter what I cook,” Rachel said as he held out her chair.

“I won’t lie and say I don’t miss your fried chicken and gravy.”

Rachel smiled. “I’ll try to come up with a way of fixing it so it will be healthy for you.”

Once everyone was seated, the foreman said the blessing. “Lord, thank you for the food on this table. And for Rachel who takes such good care of us. Amen.” He raised his head and reached for the potatoes. “Now, let’s eat.”

After serving himself, he passed the bowl to Rachel. “Thank you, Cy, for the kind words. But we all work hard around here.”

“We get paid,” Cy said, pouring gravy around his plate. “You do so many extra things for everyone. You don’t have to wash my clothes or repair the rips and tears, but you do.”

“You’ve just lost so much weight. Besides, I like to sew,” she protested.

“I know,” Cy said. “You make the prettiest quilts in the county. You ought to take ’em to one of the fancy shops in San Angelo.” He glanced at Cole. “I’ve been tellin’ her she’d make a lot of money.”

She shook her head. “I donate them to the church.”

The older man frowned. “And they turn around and sell ’em and make all the money. Money you need for yourself.”

Rachel stole a glance at Cole. He didn’t seem interested in the conversation. But that didn’t stop Cy.

“You know I worked for your daddy for a lot of years, and he didn’t always treat you fair and square.”

Rachel felt heat rush to her face. “Father wasn’t in good health and…”

Cy shook his head. “Stop making excuses for him. He made you and your sister pay for your mother leaving…”

“Cy…please,” she pleaded.

“She was your mama, Rachel, and your father drove her away, just as he did Sarah. You got this place to hold together…and you can’t do a dang thing unless you get permission from that city lawyer.” He took a bite of his food. “Thank goodness that’s nearly at an end.”

Rachel placed her fork on her plate. She didn’t want to argue with Cy. What good would it do? Her mother, father and sister were all gone. She couldn’t change any of that. “I don’t want to talk—” She stopped, then pushed back her chair and got up. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, then turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Cole fought to keep from going after her. But what could he say to her? He’d known men like Hewitt. He’d grown up with a disapproving parent, too. Nothing he’d done could please the man, so he’d finally stopped trying.

Cy looked across the table at Cole. “Now, don’t you go lookin’ at me like that.”

Cole played dumb. “What way is that?”

“Like I just pulled the wings off a butterfly. That girl needs to rid herself of years of guilt her father hammered into her.” The old man pointed to the doorway. “Have you looked at Rachel? She’s afraid to be a woman ’cause her daddy made her feel ashamed of the fact she is one. I’ve stood back for too long and watched it. But that bastard has been gone for nearly two years and Rachel is still afraid to live. She’s a beautiful woman. Someone needs to make her realize that.”

Cole didn’t want to hear any more. “I think Rachel needs to worry about surviving, and she’ll do just fine.” He took the last bite of food, then carried his plate to the sink.

“You’re just saying that so you won’t feel guilty when you leave here.”

The old man’s words hit home, but he still had to go. “I was hired for the roundup and I’ve stayed on a few extra months.”

“And I appreciate you taking on my load.”

“It wasn’t a problem, but now, I’ve got a job waiting for me in San Angelo.”

Cy didn’t argue the point. He just finished his meal, then carried his plate to the sink. He leaned against the counter and studied Cole. There was no doubt the foreman had something else to say.

Cole stared the other man down. “All right, are you going to try to get me to stay?”

“No, you have to decide that for yourself.” The old man gnawed on his lower lip as if choosing his words carefully. “I’m just wondering what you’re running from.”

Rachel had learned a long time ago that tears didn’t help anything. They hadn’t stopped people she loved from leaving her. Now, she was alone. She had no husband, no family to help her through this rough time. All she had was the ranch, and her own determination to keep it.

She changed into her nightgown and robe, then went into the bathroom and washed her face. She still needed to clean up the supper dishes.

Rachel went downstairs and walked through the large living room. The hardwood floors gleamed with polish, but an old rug in front of the barren fireplace was worn, as was the furniture. This was her home. She just had to think of a way to hold on to it, despite the lawyer’s dismal picture of her financial future.

She walked through the dining room, then into the kitchen. She stopped when she saw Cole standing at the sink, his sleeves rolled up and his hands buried in dishwater.

A blush quickly spread over her cheeks. She didn’t want to deal with anyone tonight, especially Cole. For a second she wanted to turn around and flee, but she lost that chance when he glanced over his shoulder and saw her.

For a moment they just stared at each other. His gray eyes locked with hers and she couldn’t seem to take a breath.

He cocked his head, causing his inky-black hair to fall across his forehead. “Well, don’t just stand there, grab a towel.”

She managed to snap out of her trance. “You shouldn’t be doing those.” She went to his side, surprised when he didn’t step aside.

“It’s not a problem,” he said as he rinsed the flatware, and placed them in the dish drainer. “I discovered it’s a good way to clean the dirt from under your fingernails. You can dry.”

“But this isn’t your job.”

He stopped and glared at her. “Why not? Haven’t I seen you climb on a horse and help round up cows? Let’s not split hairs here, Rachel. Besides, my hands are already wet.”

Reluctantly she picked up the towel on the counter.

Cole had hoped to be finished before she came back downstairs. He hadn’t wanted to end up in this situation with the house quiet and Rachel Hewitt dressed in a nightgown and robe, her long silky hair flowing down her back. He felt the heat move over his skin just because she was near. She made him remember what he tried so hard to forget. What he’d lost so long ago.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Rachel began, her voice husky. “Cy means well…”

Cole put a plate into the water, recalling how he’d almost gone upstairs and checked on her, but realized he’d be playing with fire.

Eighteen months ago, he’d made a couple of rules for himself. Not to get involved, especially with a woman like Rachel, and not to hang around any one place for long. He’d already broken one rule, and had no intention of breaking another.

He shrugged. “It’s none of my business.” The less he knew about her, the easier it would be to walk away.

“You still had to be uncomfortable. For that, I’m sorry.”

“You and Cy are like family. I know he cares about you. He’s just worried about you running this ranch by yourself. It’s a big job.”

She raised her pretty chin. “I’ve managed so far.”

He rinsed another glass. “Is there any other family member that might be willing to help out?”

She shook her head as she stacked a plate on the counter. “My father didn’t have any family.”

Cole knew what it felt like to love someone and have them walk out of your life…for good. The tightness in his chest told him he was getting too close to memories, and the past that he desperately fought to keep buried. He pushed away the threatening emotions.

“Then we’ll have to find someone you can trust to help run this place.”

“I can’t pay that much,” she offered. “My father didn’t save a lot. There’s not enough to pay a decent salary. At least we did well with the sale of the spring calves, so the mortgage is paid ahead.”

Cole knew that a lawyer, Lloyd Montgomery, controlled the money. But dammit, you couldn’t run a ranch from a desk in town. Not even when you owned the neighboring property.

Don’t get involved in this, Cole told himself. You’re leaving at the end of the week. “There are other ways to make the ranch pay off.” Finished with the dishes, he wiped his hands on the towel. “There are thousands of dollars to be made by allowing hunters on your property. You should think about it.”

She nodded. “Father never shared much of the ranch business with me, and as you already know, I don’t have control…yet. That will change soon. So lately, I’ve been going over things, trying to learn my way. Lloyd Montgomery thinks I should sell it all.”

Cole frowned. “Why is that?”

“He doesn’t think I can deal with everything myself.”

Cole snickered. “What does he think you’ve been doing the last few years, having a picnic?”

That brought a smile to her face and his breath caught in his chest. She was strikingly beautiful and she had no idea.

“I’ll need to do something to supplement my income, or I could lose it all.” She was silent for a few seconds, then she said, “I was going over things in my father’s office and found a letter from a windmill company that asked about leasing some land.” Her large eyes locked with his. “When you have some time, would you look at the letter?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” He glanced at his watch. “How about now?”

Rachel set down her towel and together they walked through the house into a small office off the living room. A large desk took up most of the area, and like the rest of the place it was clean and orderly.

Rachel went to the file cabinet and took out a manila folder. She removed a letter and handed it to Cole.

He glanced at the letterhead. It was from 21^st Century Windmill Company, located in San Angelo, Texas. The letter stated that the company had already done a survey of the Bar H’s land and found that the rocky ridge mesa was ideal for windmills. Cole knew the area. It wasn’t much good for anything else, not even cattle. The company had requested an agreement to use the land.

“Has your lawyer made any contact with them?” He glanced through the folder and found nothing else.

She shook her head. “No. I found this in the wastepaper basket. I don’t think Monty thought the idea was a good one. What do you think?”

He didn’t want to sway her, but he didn’t understand why good old Monty had ignored what seemed to be a decent money-making idea. “It wouldn’t hurt to listen to what they have to say. In a few weeks you’ll take over the ranch, so why not just wait until then?”

“So, this is legitimate?” she asked.

He nodded. “It sounds similar to an oil lease. That’s where the landowner is given money up-front from the company—in this case it’s a windmill company. They come in, construct windmills and give the owners a percentage of the profits.” He smiled. “Rachel. You could not only get money for the leased land, but for the electricity they produce and sell to the surrounding areas.”

“So it’s a good thing?”

“It could be very good. But you need to contact this 21^st Century and let them know you’re interested. No matter what the lawyer says, you’re more than capable of dealing with these people…” He glanced down at the name. “This Douglas Wills.” He handed the letter to her. He inhaled her fresh scent. No perfume could ever be as intoxicating.

Rachel raised her head and looked up at him. Her face was void of makeup, allowing him to see the tiny freckles scattered across her nose. Her eyes were amber, fringed with long dark lashes. His body warmed as desire spread through him. He tried to ignore it, but she was too close, her mouth too inviting. He found he wanted a taste. He heard the quickening of her breathing.

Then she spoke his name. “Cole…”

Blocking out logical reasoning, he lowered his head to hers, anticipating the kiss. Just to taste her, he promised. Just once he wanted to get lost in her innocence…her sweetness.

He was quickly brought back to reality by the sound of a car. Rachel jumped back. He should have been relieved but what he felt was frustration.

As Rachel went to the window Cole followed, amazed at how close he’d come to making such a huge mistake. He couldn’t mess around with someone like Rachel and walk away. That would be too cruel.

The sun was setting right outside the window making it difficult to see clearly. “Who is it?” he asked.

“Not sure.” She walked out of the room, and Cole followed. He finally caught up to her as she stepped out on the back porch just in time to recognize the deputy sheriff getting out of the patrol car along with another man.

Cole stood close enough to feel her tense.

The man in the khaki uniform tipped his hat. “Good evening, ma’am.” He walked toward the porch, but stopped at the base of the steps. “I’m Deputy Clarke.”

“Evening, Deputy,” Rachel said. “What brings you out here?”

“We’re looking for Rachel Hewitt.”

“I’m Rachel Hewitt.”

The two men exchanged a look, then the deputy asked, “Do you have a sister named Sarah?”

A whimpering sound escaped Rachel, and Cole automatically moved closer. “Yes…” she answered.

“Could we come inside? We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Rachel nodded and the two men walked up the steps and into the kitchen. “Have you seen my sister? Is she in Fort Stockton?”

“No,” the deputy answered. “This is Mike Bentley. He’s from social services in San Antonio. That’s where your sister has been living for the past few months.”

Suddenly the back door opened and Cy walked in. “Rachel…why is the sheriff’s car…?”

“Cy, these gentlemen are here about Sarah. She’s been living in San Antonio.”

Cy and Cole exchanged a worried look. The sheriff didn’t show up on your doorstep with good news. “Is that a fact?”

The man from social services finally spoke. “We tried to find her family, but it wasn’t until a friend came looking for her that we knew about you, Ms. Hewitt.”

“Er, maybe you should sit down, ma’am,” the deputy said.

Rachel blinked. “Is my sister in trouble, Deputy?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry to say Sarah died nearly three weeks ago in an automobile accident.”

Rachel didn’t hear much more as the buzzing in her head drowned out everything else but the words, Sarah died. She felt herself sinking, until Cole put his arm around her and held her up.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Just lean on me.”

Struggling to regain her composure, Rachel straightened. “Please, sit down.” She moved around the kitchen. “I’ll make some coffee.”

She suddenly felt Cole grip her trembling hands and stop her. “Rachel, we don’t need coffee. You need to sit down.” His eyes held hers. “Do you want me to call someone?”

She shook her head. “Just…can you…stay with me?”

“Of course.” He led her to the table and sat her down in a chair, then pulled out another one for himself.

“I’m sorry to put you through this, Ms. Hewitt, but your sister didn’t leave much information about her family. And it was important we find you because…” The two men exchanged a long look, then the deputy continued, “Because before your sister died she gave birth to a baby girl.”