Читать книгу Counting On The Cowboy - Shannon Vannatter Taylor - Страница 13
ОглавлениеDevree’s face heated when she realized he could have taken her plea for him to stay as her own. “I mean, Chase could use you around here.”
“I’m sure he can find someone else.” Brock shifted his weight, obviously wanting her to move out of his way.
But she had to convince him to stay. For her sister’s sake. And Becca’s too. “The chapel’s completed, but they’re still in the middle of expanding the ranch. Their new house, along with honeymoon and hunting cabins are in progress. Chase is up to his eyeballs with all of it and the handyman bailed.”
“Surely there’ve been other applicants.”
“Several who would be great as ranch hands, but painfully inexperienced when it comes to fixing anything other than fences.” She drew in a long breath.
“I can’t stay here.”
“I have a wedding scheduled next month. Plus, they’ve got more weddings starting in June and wild boar hunts booked through fall with guests expecting cabins ready for their stay. Meanwhile, there are a dozen projects that need attention and a very pregnant lady who’d like to be in her new house before the baby comes. Please say you’ll take the job.”
“I can’t do this. Not with—”
“Landry had a stillbirth last spring.” Her vision blurred at the memory of the tiny casket.
His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. Chase didn’t say anything.”
“They don’t like to dwell on it. It’s too hard.” She blinked the moisture away. “She’s almost lost this baby twice and is still having complications. She can’t handle any more stress. Chase needs to spend more time keeping her calm. Just stay until Chase can find someone else. My niece or nephew’s life could depend on it.”
His eyes softened. “No pressure.”
“Sorry.” Devree kicked at the gravel drive. “They’re scared to death. And so am I.” She managed to get a hold on her emotions, looked back up at him. “Here’s your chance to help an old friend. With a baby’s life hanging in the balance.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” He looked skyward. “I’ll stay on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t want to talk about my mother. And I don’t want any of you pushing me toward her.”
“We owe you.” She offered her hand. His rough, calloused palm dwarfed hers.
“And only until Chase can hire someone else.”
“Come on. Let’s go tell them.” She jogged to the ranch house.
With his long stride, he stayed right with her even though he was only walking. He beat her to the porch, climbed the steps and opened the door for her.
“Do you think your mom is okay?”
His gaze went steely. “Don’t know.”
And obviously didn’t care.
“And that counts as talking about her.”
“I can’t help it if I’m worried about her.” In the last year since the dude ranch started hosting weddings, Devree had planned a handful here. Becca helped decorate and clean after each one—a real sweetheart. How could he not care about her?
“You’re still talking about her.”
“Sorry.” She stepped inside, hurried across the foyer to the great room.
Landry was right where she’d left her—laying on the couch, feet in her husband’s lap.
“Good news. Brock agreed to take the job.”
“Wonderful.” Landry’s relief whooshed out in a heavy sigh.
“Glad to hear it.” Chase’s smile went a mile wide.
“Where should I bunk?”
“Go out to the barn, ask for Troy. He’ll get you settled in a room at the bunkhouse where a lot of the hands stay.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’d like to tackle the goat problem. Exactly how many are missing?”
“Eleven. Six does—one is gestating with a kid due in the next few weeks—and five bucks. All pygmies. We’re planning a petting zoo by the time school’s out.”
Does and bucks? Weren’t those deer? Gestating with a kid due? Did that translate into pregnant goat? Devree was desperately behind on her ranch and farm animal lingo.
“They need something to occupy them so they’ll stay in the pens.”
Apparently, Brock knew a thing or two about goats. Or does and bucks and kids. Or whatever they were.
“Use whatever you need out of the lumber pile in the barn.” Chase adjusted the comforter around Landry’s feet. “I’d also appreciate it if you’d arrange for demolition of that old storm shelter on the east side of the chapel. It’s an eyesore and goat magnet. Besides, we have a basement so we don’t need it.”
“Sure. First thing in the morning.”
“And, Devree, since we have a handyman now, I need to add to your load.”
“Okay?” Hopefully, nothing dirty or stinky.
“Our event schedule is kind of dead between spring break and June. Which will leave you at loose ends. With Landry down for the count, our last handyman’s wife was supposed to handle decorating the chapel and the honeymoon cottages. I was wondering if you could help with that.”
“Um, I’m a wed—event planner. Not an interior decorator.” Especially not a rustic one. Country-themed weddings were always a challenge for her.
“Please don’t let Chase do it.” Landry groaned. “Everything will end up looking just like the hunting cabins. With dead wild boar heads on the walls.”
And cause her sister stress. “I guess I could try.”
“You’ll do great.” Landry sounded so certain. “With all your experience at decorating venues for weddings. For the chapel, just a few decor items. Keep it simple and rustic with a few crosses and burlap. And for the cabins, pick some paint colors, tile and flooring. We get all our decor items, furnishings, drapery and bedding from Resa’s store. She’ll give you good advice.”
“I’m on it.”
“Great.” Chase relaxed, ran his fingers along the bottom of Landry’s toes, eliciting a giggle out of her. “I’ll need you and Brock to focus on the chapel and Gramp’s fishing cabin to begin with.”
“Why the fishing cabin?” Devree tried not to cringe. She’d much rather work in one of the new structures instead of an old abandoned one.
“With a wedding in two weeks and the new cabins unfinished—” Landry adjusted her pillow “—it’ll be quicker to transform the fishing cabin into a honeymoon hideaway than finishing one of the others.”
“But no one’s lived in the cabin since I moved out after our wedding. Becca cleaned it—” Chase winced as he obviously realized he’d brought up a sore subject “—but it needs caulk around the plumbing and trim work.”
Right on cue, the muscle in Brock’s jaw had flexed at the mention of his mother. “I’ll check it out and tackle it in the morning.” His words came out clipped, his mind still obviously on whatever his issues were with Becca.
“It should be vacant by now.” Landry cringed. “Chase set mouse traps.”
That bit of info almost stopped Devree’s heart. She squelched a shudder. Surely, there wouldn’t be any critters. Not live ones, anyway.
“I’ll try to find where they’re getting in,” Brock promised.
“We’ll be fine,” she assured her sister and Chase. But would she? With mice? If there were rodents, there might be snakes or worse...spiders. “Don’t worry about a thing. Y’all just concentrate on baby Sprint.”
“Sprint?” Landry squinted one eye, her thinking mode.
“I figure his or her dad is Chase, so she or he is Sprint.”
Landry’s giggle mixed with Chase’s chuckle. A nice relaxed sound. Just what she wanted to hear from her sister.
She turned to see that she’d even elicited a grin out of Brock.
“No matter what y’all name the baby, that’s what I’m calling him or her.” She shot her sister a wink. “I’ve still got boxes of wedding decorations to stash in the chapel.”
“You’ll need help.” Landry smoothed her hands over the roundness of her belly.
“I’m on it.” Chase moved Landry’s feet, started to get up.
“Stay put,” Brock ordered. “I’ll help her.”
“That’s not in your job description.”
“She’s your top priority.” Brock pointed at Landry. “I’m here. Let me help.”
Chase settled Landry’s feet back in his lap. “I appreciate that.”
So, Brock could be caring—just not toward his mother. Despite the tension, it would be nice to have someone else take part of Chase’s load so he could focus on Landry. And given time, maybe Becca and Brock could work things out.
He followed her to her car where they each grabbed a stack of plastic containers and headed for the chapel.
She hadn’t anticipated working with the broad-shouldered, way too good-looking cowboy. But she couldn’t let him distract her.
Without shifting his load, he shouldered the door to the chapel open and held it for her. “Where do you want these?”
“On the back pew will be fine.”
He set down her containers. “Is that all?”
“Yes.” It would help if he stashed everything in the loft for her, but that would mean having him stick around. “Thanks. I can take it from here.”
He tipped his hat and exited. Through the side window, she saw him hurry toward the long building that housed a dozen hands and the foreman, Troy. His temporary home.
She had to concentrate on the chapel and the fishing cabin. Not the cowboy.
* * *
Barely daylight, Brock nailed the final board into place on the play station in the goat pen. A buck, barely two feet tall, nibbled his elbow. And they said cats were curious.
“Just give me a minute, little guy, and I’ll get out of your way.” He gathered his tools, slipped them in his belt and took a step back. Just as soon as he was out of the way, all five bucks climbed on the station, wrestling their way to the top. The matching structure in the doe’s pen was getting used as well. He slipped out the gate, fastened it back.
He’d never built such a thing, but he’d gotten ideas off the internet last night. Apparently, good ones. With wire fencing in place and two more wooden rails at the top, they should stay in now.
Next on the agenda, he planned to caulk the fishing cabin and make the repairs there. He needed to keep busy. Keep his mind off the pretty redhead. And his mother. On his first official day as handyman, he’d already set up a time for the demolition of the old storm cellar by the chapel.
He loaded an assortment of lumber he hadn’t used into his truck and drove over to the barn. Once the fishing cabin and Chase’s new house were complete, getting his friend moved before the baby came would be his priority.
After that, he’d focus on whatever else needed fixing. But hopefully, he wouldn’t be here long.
As he stacked the wood neatly back where he’d found it, a prickle of awareness swept over him. Someone watching. He glanced around and saw movement in the loft. A moment later, a child’s head popped up, then ducked again.
“Are you supposed to be up there alone?”
Busted, she came out of hiding, peered down at him. “My grandpa had to take guests to their room and I sort of slipped out. But I’m real careful when I climb in the loft and I can hear the bus when it gets to Cheyenne’s house. She lives next door. Once I hear it, I can run to the road. And I’m real fast.” She climbed down to reveal light brown hair and freckles. First grade maybe.
“You shouldn’t slip out on your grandpa like that. He’ll worry.”
“I’ll be back before he knows I’m gone. I’m Ruby.”
“I’m Brock.”
“I know who you are.” She plopped on a hay bale. “You’re my uncle.”
A hollow weight settled in his chest. Had his mom had another child—his sibling?
“But I’m not supposed to tell anybody. It’s me and Mama’s secret. I’m real good at keeping secrets. I figured you already knew, so I don’t gotta keep it from you.”
He swallowed hard. “So who’s your mama?”
“You haven’t met her yet. Her name’s Scarlet. My grandma’s favorite color was red. So she named Mama Scarlet and Mama named me Ruby to memorialize her.”
“Like I said, you best get back before your grandpa misses you.”
She gasped. “There’s the bus.” She waved, then bolted for the ranch house as fast as her little legs would carry her. Minutes later, he heard the bus stop at the end of the drive. It didn’t tarry long before driving past.
Scarlet? Did he have a sister? But red had never been his mom’s favorite color. At least when he’d lived with her anyway. Maybe the child was confused? Or playing a game?
A scream echoed through the morning stillness.
Brock bolted in the direction it came from.
Another shriek from Gramp’s old fishing cabin.
He charged full force.
On the porch, Devree held something small with pliers. She dropped both with a screech and did a little dance in her high heels.
“What’s wrong?”
She whirled in his direction, her business-style skirt slim-fitting at her knees. Wild-eyed, mouth open and pulled down at the corners, she looked ready to let out another blood-curdling shriek. She sucked in a breath, shuddered. “A mouse. Its tail was caught in a trap.”
“Where?” He climbed the porch steps, tried to hold in his laughter.
She propped her hands on her hips. “It’s not funny. I turned it loose.” She pointed to the end of the cabin. “It ran off over there.”
He took in the trap laying nearby along with two sets of pliers. “You know,” he said, unable to control his grin. “If you turn it loose, it’ll most likely come right back in.”
“I couldn’t take all that squealing.” She covered her ears with both hands. “From the moment I got here. Snap! Snap! Snap! And the poor little thing went to squealing.”
“What’s wrong?” Chase sprinted in their direction still wearing his robe.
“Nothing.” Her hands dropped away from her head. “I didn’t wake Landry did I?”
“No.” His brows rose. “Why were you screaming about nothing?”
She repeated her story, shrugged as if it was no big deal. “When I turned him loose, he darted toward my foot. I might have yelled a bit. Just a little adrenaline kicking in. But I’m fine. And the mouse is too.”
“You should have killed him.” Chase tightened the belt on his robe. “He’ll only come back inside.”
“I know, but he was crying. And he was kind of cute.”
Chase cut his gaze to the sky, as if trying to keep from rolling his eyes. “Are there any dead ones in other traps?”
She pulled in a shaky breath. “I think so.”
“I’ll empty them for you.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Brock stepped up on the porch. “Just tell me where they are.”
“Under the kitchen and bathroom counters, behind the trash can in the kitchen, living room and bedroom.”
“I’m on it. What about getting some cats?”
“Good idea.” Chase ran a hand through his bed head. “If you have any more live ones, call me.”
“I’m fine.” She pulled on a brave smile.
“And try not to scream. It scares the guests.” Chase strolled back toward the ranch house.
Poor guy—completely stressed out.
“Let’s just say I’m not the most serene person when it comes to rodents.”
“I noticed.” Brock smirked. “Guess you won’t be helping me with the traps.”
She shot him a look, then hung her head. “I think I’ll hide in the closet while you take care of things. Landry can do anything—help birth farm animals, decapitate a rattlesnake with a hoe, bait her own fishing hook. But I’m not like that. Not at all.”
A definite understatement from what little he knew of her so far.
“Sounds like it’ll be a challenge to keep Landry occupied for six weeks.” He peered down at her. “You really here for events? Or to help Chase babysit her without her knowing it?”
“Chase called, wanted me to help out here. They happened to have the first wedding booked in the new chapel.” She shrugged. “It worked out perfectly.”
“Kind of sounds like you were meant to be here.” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops.
“Except that I’m trying to go in a new direction as an event planner—company retreats, family reunions, conferences, corporate Christmas parties, that sort of thing. But my sister needed me, so I’m doing this one last wedding.” Bitterness edged her words. “And that’s it.” She stepped inside.
Her distaste for nuptials didn’t detract from her beauty. Not at all.
He followed. Several large white-tailed and axis deer preserved in taxidermy mounts hung on the wall. A large glass display box full of fish hooks of every size and style, from hand-tied fly to vintage wooden lures. It had always fascinated him as a kid when he’d come here with Chase and Gramps.
“This place creeps me out.” Devree shivered, hugged herself tighter.
“I always loved it. Gramps—he insisted everyone call him that—used to bring us here for early morning fishing.” The smell of Pine Sol and lemon cleaning supplies tickled his nose. Took him back.
Since he always wanted to help when he made the cleaning rounds with his mom, she’d let him dust the guest rooms. He could almost feel the damp, worn terry cloth in his hand. The way he got two nightstands and a headboard dusted in the time it took her to clean an entire room and bathroom. But she’d never hurried him or reprimanded him for taking too long.
He shook the memories away. But his brush with Ruby settled in his empty spaces. “Do you know a little girl named Ruby?”
“Sure. She’s Ron’s granddaughter. She comes here to catch the bus some mornings and gets off here in the afternoon part of the time.”
“I met her in the barn this morning. And Ron is?”
“Your um—Becca’s husband. He’s a bellhop and wild boar hunting guide here at the dude ranch.”
So Mom had remarried. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “And Scarlet?”
“Ron’s daughter.”
His stepsister. It all clicked into place. Well, Ruby was cute and all, but he had no intention of getting to know his blended family while he was here.
“They’re really sweet people.” Devree settled on the plaid couch. “I need to get a feel for the space.” She must have sensed he didn’t want to talk about it. She tucked her feet up beside her. Probably trying to avoid varmints.
He scanned the room. With the blinds open, sunlight streamed into the main living area. There were wood floors, ceilings and log walls with a dozen marble eyes staring at them.
“It’s perfect as is for a hunting cabin. Why not take the personal items out, spruce it up a bit and use it for that?”
“We need a honeymoon cottage up and running ASAP. And the guest cottages are all on the front of the property while the hunting ones are on the back of the acreage.”
“But this is such a personal space. Why are they opening it up to guests?”
“Chase doesn’t want it to go unused and eventually rot away. A ranch hand is coming sometime to take all these poor dead animals to the new house. Along with those.” She gestured to the fishhook display with another shudder.
Snap! Another trap went off and she jumped. “Great. Another victim. Isn’t there any other way?”
“I could buy some poison. But you take the chance of one dying in the wall. Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”
“Ugh.” She closed her eyes. “Something humane?”
“There are live traps that don’t hurt them. I’m going into town later to buy lumber. I could pick up a few.”
“Say you do that and we catch them. Then what do we do to keep them from coming back in?”
“I could feed them to my pet boa constrictor.”
Her eyes popped open wide, revealing a hint of green amidst the blue.
Captivating. “Kidding. I’d find some place deep in the woods.”
“But what would they eat?”
“Seeds, berries. Don’t worry, I’ll find a good place for them.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
He went in the kitchen, came back with two traps.
She clasped a hand over her mouth.
“Sorry. You might not want to watch.” He hurried to the door, emptied the traps several yards from the cabin and returned.
She buried her face in a pillow, stayed huddled on the couch while he made another trip with the remaining traps. Finished, he returned to the kitchen and washed his hands.
“You don’t want me to reset them?”
“Definitely not.” She peeked from behind the pillow.
“Okay, I’ll bring the live traps by later. Anything else I can do for you before I start caulking?”
Her gaze darted to the glass display case hanging on the wall. “Could you do something with that?”
“The fishhooks?”
“Yes, please. If you laugh, I’ll die, but I’m terrified of them.”
Seriously? But the terror in her eyes kept his humor at bay. He opened the case.
“No!” She screeched. “Just take the whole thing.” She closed her eyes. “I mean, it would be awful if you lost one.”
“Or if one fell out.”
“Stop.” She pressed her face in the pillow again. “You’ll give me nightmares.”
“Relax. I was only checking to see how it’s mounted. Have you been hooked?”
She lowered the pillow. With a slow nod, she rubbed the skin between her thumb and forefinger on her right hand, a slight scar. “My father promised to take Landry and me fishing when we were little. But someone called in sick and he had to work in the Christian bookstore our parents own. I got a hook out and tried to put it on my line so we’d be ready when he got home.”
“And hooked yourself.”
She pinched the skin. “It went through right here. All the way through, barb and all. It had to be cut out in the emergency room. I can still feel it.”
Her vulnerability tugged at him as he shut the display case, carefully lifted the brackets off the screws holding it up. “I’ll take it to the new house when I finish insulating. For now, how about I put it out of sight, maybe under the bed?”
“Thanks.”
“So, do you like to fish?”
Her laugh came out ironic. “No. I’m afraid of hooks, worms are slimy and fish are stinky. I just wanted to be with my dad.”
“Did you not get much time with him?”
“He was great at setting up outings with us. But we’d have these awesome plans until someone called in sick and he’d end up at the store. Sometimes, I went to work with him, just to be with him.”
She was way too charming when she showed this soft side. “My dad died when I was barely eight.”
“I bet that was tough.” Her gaze met his.
“It was. He was my hero.” The loss burned fresh in his heart. He tucked the display case under his arm and headed for the bedroom.
“Thanks.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thought your cape was at the dry cleaners. And I’ll remind you, that despite circumstances, I’m not a damsel.” A small smile slipped out. “Just slightly out of my element.”
“Got my cape back this morning and we’re in dire straits here. Mice and traps and fishhooks! Oh, my!” He mimicked the classic Wizard of Oz chant and got a chuckle out of her. And coming to her rescue might have its perks. She certainly wasn’t a chore to look at.
“Just for the record, I’m afraid of flying monkeys too.”
“Let me know if you see any of those.” He shot her a wink and stashed the display box under the bed. “Typical city girl.”
“I may be a city girl.” Her tone turned sharp. “But there’s nothing typical about me.”
Definitely overly sensitive. And now he’d offended her. Maybe that was a good turn of events. The last thing he needed was to develop a soft spot for her.
Besides, he wouldn’t be here long. And she wouldn’t either. They were just biding their time stuck here together. Both itching to get back to their real lives.
