Читать книгу Cowboy Dreaming - Shawna Delacorte - Страница 10

It was a valid question, but Cody did not have a good answer. He was not sure exactly what he thought he was doing, or more accurately why he was doing it. There was nothing about Melanie Winslow that said she was in any way the type of woman with whom he would want to pursue a serious relationship. She was also Buck’s daughter and Buck was not only his friend, Buck was his employer. But still, like it or not, something other than her good looks had worked its way under his skin.

He wanted to push it aside as being a ridiculous thought that had no place in his world. He tried, but was not totally successful. He decided to ignore her question. “If you wanted to take a nap shouldn’t you be doing it in your bedroom rather than up here?”

Melanie was not sure exactly what had been real and what had been a dream. Had he really kissed her? Perhaps the best thing would be to proceed as if nothing had happened. She sat up, carefully avoiding any physical contact with him. A hint of embarrassment found its way into her voice. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I used to come up here when I was a little girl. I guess I…” She could not finish her sentence. She did not have a ready explanation for her actions. “What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?”

Cody stood up and reached out his hand to help her to her feet. “It’s been about four hours since you left the kitchen.”

“Four hours? Oh, no. I certainly didn’t intend to be out here that long.” She hesitated a moment, then accepted his assistance. “I guess I was just too tired to keep my eyes open.” She noticed the way he kept staring at her, a stare that caused a ripple of confusion and vexation in her. She was also very much aware that he still held her hand within his grasp. She quickly withdrew from his touch and busied herself straightening her clothes and brushing away the loose pieces of hay.

Cody pulled several pieces of straw from her hair. He tickled the last piece across her cheek before dropping it to the floor of the hayloft. It was a brief moment of peaceful coexistence, neither challenging the other’s position or authority.

It was Melanie who broke the moment. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she stared down at the hay-covered floor. She nervously cleared her throat, then looked up at him. “I, uh, I think I owe you an apology. I guess I was a little overly tired this morning. I’m afraid I wasn’t too polite.”

“Well…” An apology—that was certainly far removed from what he had anticipated. Perhaps Buck’s daughter was not quite the disagreeable ingrate Cody had surmised her to be. “I certainly can’t blame you for getting upset about being tackled and thrown to the floor.”

“And I hadn’t let anyone know I would be arriving in the middle of the night. I can understand why you would assume I was someone breaking into the house.” She stuck out her hand and offered him a tentative smile. “Truce?”

Cody hesitantly agreed, still a little skeptical about her real motives. He accepted her handshake, the sensation of her touch sending a hint of both alarm and anxiety through his awareness. “Sure…truce.”

This time it was Cody who quickly withdrew his hand. He ran it across the back of his neck. For a moment he had forgotten his purpose in being there, had forgotten about everything except the mystery and allure of Melanie Winslow. “Shall we go?” He turned toward the ladder. “Buck wants me to show you around, point out everything new over the past ten years.” He could not stop the irritation that crept into his voice. It was a silly waste of his time. She had lived at the ranch and should be able to spot the changes on her own without taking up his valuable time.

Her manner stiffened. She wrinkled her brow into a slight frown and pursed her lips. She caught the edge to his voice. Was this part of his method of keeping a vigilant eye on her, as he had threatened? “I don’t need a tour guide to find my way around.”

He paused with his foot on the top rung of the ladder. His voice and physical presence carried absolute authority. “Buck wants me to show you around, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

Her temper flared. “This is ridiculous! I lived here for eighteen years. I’ll bet I know places on this ranch you’ve never seen.”

He matched her, word for angry word, as he stepped back onto the loft floor. “Look, kid. There’ve been lots of changes around here in the past ten years. Things are very busy right now. I don’t want you wandering around on your own and getting in the way. Besides, I still don’t know what you’re doing here and until I do—”

She stomped over to the ladder. “Get out of my way, cowboy.” She expertly sidestepped him and quickly descended the ladder. She glanced back up when she reached the dirt floor of the barn. He appeared as a large, dark silhouette against the brilliant blue sky visible through the opened loft doors behind him.

“Humph!” She snorted her indignation, turned on her heel and stormed out of the barn, comforting herself with the knowledge that she had tried to make amends. She had apologized to him, even though she knew she had not been at fault, and had called for a truce. She certainly would not accept any responsibility for the behavior of such an overbearing jerk. A little tremor darted through her body as she recalled her dream, the dream that had seemed so real.

Cody watched from the loft doors as she headed back toward the house. Her stride was purposeful and direct, each step hitting the ground with a thud that he imagined he could almost hear. Then the thought hit him. He glanced at his watch. He needed to hurry if he was going to prevent her from disturbing Buck.

A couple of months ago Buck started taking a short nap before lunch. The short nap had gradually become longer and longer, then became a midmorning nap, an afternoon nap and an evening nap. There was no reason for him to continue to get up as early as he did. Cody had tried to get him to sleep later in the morning, but to no avail. Cody had not belabored the point. Buck had spent his entire life rising before dawn.

Cody understood Buck’s need to feel that he was still capable of making a contribution to the daily work effort. For a man like Buck Winslow to be denied his feeling of usefulness was tantamount to denying him a reason to go on living. And Cody wanted to do everything he possibly could to see to it that Buck would be around for as long as possible. He flashed on the unexpected way Buck had seemed to perk up around his daughter. The thought left as quickly as it had arrived. Cody climbed down from the hayloft and hurried toward the house. He went straight to the office, irritation growing inside him to the point where it shoved aside whatever tender feelings he might have momentarily harbored toward Melanie.

Melanie again found herself watching her father as he slept, only this time he was stretched out in the recliner in the living room. The nap she had stolen in the hayloft had somewhat cleared the fuzziness from her sleep-deprived brain. She needed to dig out some straight answers. Exactly what was wrong with her father and what involvement and authority did this Cody Chandler person have in her father’s business affairs? He projected an air of authority far beyond that of hired hand, even that of ranch foreman.

She could not imagine her father as either weak or vulnerable. He had always been in charge of everything around him. Nothing happened on the ranch that he did not know about. She remembered him as an unemotional, pragmatic man. The ranch had always come first in his life. He had been fair with his employees, but his family was a different matter. She had been hurt on more than one occasion when he had turned his back on her and walked away when she had tried to talk to him. He had never allowed any tenderness or softness to show through. If that side of him existed at all, she had never been aware of it. But seeing him now…again she was struck by how frail he appeared. Was Cody Chandler nothing more than an opportunist taking advantage of a sick man?

Melanie Winslow was confused. Very confused. For some unknown reason she found herself experiencing the very foreign sensation of feeling protective toward her fatherprotective of this cold, overbearing man with whom she had a relationship that could be described at best as adversarial.

She shook her head to clear the strange thoughts. Sleep. She needed more sleep. Obviously she was not thinking clearly. She turned around and left the living room. She would find Cody Chandler and get some answers from him. Then she would put a call in to Henry Sanderson.

Henry had been Buck’s attorney for more years than Melanie was old. She furrowed her brow in thought. That is, assuming Henry was still her father’s attorney. It was possible that he, too, was no longer connected with the ranch or her father, just as Tom Collier was no longer on the scene.

Was this all some sort of plot engineered by Cody so that he could get his hands on her father’s ranch? Was he really some sort of slick con man? Good grief! Get a grip on yourself, Melanie. Next you’re going to be imagining subterfuge behind every rock and tree. She tried to put her thoughts into some sort of logical reality. Her father was obviously in bad health and not capable of performing the hard work connected with a large cattle ranch. It was necessary for him to delegate a lot of the authority and responsibility. Even without the tour that Cody seemed determined to give her she could see that there had been lots of changes since she was last there. Things looked very prosperous.

Melanie turned to leave the living room and immediately ran into Cody in the hallway leading from the office. She fixed him with a determined stare, refusing to give credence to the tremor of excitement caused by his presence. “I want a word with you.”

He folded his arms across his chest and carefully scrutinized her stance and her physical challenge. He took his time answering her, noting the way she kept clenching and unclenching her jaw. “I thought we were already having words.”

She refused to be put off by his aggressive manner. “So far those words have consisted of you barking orders. Now it’s time for you to start answering some questions.”

He stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture with his arm, indicating the front door. “Outside.” It was only one word, but it was said with total authority—once again he was issuing orders.

She hesitated for a moment, glanced back at her father sleeping peacefully in his recliner, then walked out onto the front porch.

Cody leaned back against the porch railing and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. He studied her nervousness for a moment before speaking. “All right, what do you want answered?”

“First, I want to know about my father’s health.” Some of the antagonistic edge disappeared from her voice as her inner fears seeped through. “How bad is he?”

“He’s dying.” The words were said in a flat tone of voice as Cody made every effort to control the emotion welling inside him.

Mel blinked a couple of times, then swallowed quickly several times as she tried to force down the sick feeling. “What…” She gulped in some cool air. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said—he’s dying. What part of that don’t you understand?” He was fully aware of the harshness of his words but did not seem to be able to say it any other way. He had already been through it all with Buck—the anger, the denial and the eventual acceptance. It had been a year ago that the physical deterioration began to take its toll and Cody had written the letter to Buck’s daughter. And now here she was, a year later, making demands as if she actually had some sort of concern or involvement.

She stumbled backward, the shock of Cody’s words hitting her as sharply as if he had reached out and slapped her. She had seen with her own eyes how her father had been reduced to a shell of his former self. Somewhere deep in her subconscious she had suspected the truth, but she had not been prepared for the reality to hit her so abruptly. Was this how it would end? Would her relationship with her father remain unresolved? For a fraction of a second it was herself she felt sorry for—for the possibility that she might have waited too long and was now too late to change things.

“What…when…” She tried to force a calm to her words. “How much time does he have? What is he dying of?”

Her genuine shock and obvious sorrow managed to pierce the wall Cody had purposely constructed between himself and this woman, of whom he disapproved yet at the same time found very enticing. He steeled himself against the emotional pull that reached out from her and tried to take hold of him.

“As to when, the doctor says he’s already on borrowed time. In fact, he said Buck should have been bedridden a couple of weeks ago.” He saw the color drain from her face and the unsteady manner in which she reached out to grab hold of the porch railing. He heard her ragged intake of breath.

“Doc says he honestly doesn’t know what’s kept Buck going.” Cody recalled the warmth that covered Buck when he first saw Melanie in the kitchen, some sort of inner peace separate from his acceptance of his mortality. A hint of cognizance tried to push its way into his mind, a thought that said perhaps it was the farfetched hope of a reunion with his daughter that had kept Buck going against all odds.

Cody doubled his resolve to keep control of the situation. He did not know why Melanie Winslow had decided to show up at this particular time, but he was determined to keep her from doing anything to spoil things. He wanted Buck’s final days to be as carefree and comfortable as possible.

“And…what…is he in much pain?” Melanie did not know what she felt; she mostly just felt numb. “Shouldn’t he be in the hospital?”

“Doc Gerrard doesn’t feel there is anything that can be done for him in the hospital that can’t be done here at home. This is where Buck wants to be. This is where he’s the most comfortable. This is where he has spent his life and where he wants to die. The pain is pretty much controlled by medication. Some days are better than others, but in the past couple of months he’s gone downhill rapidly. He’s a fighter. He’s accepted that he’s dying, but he hasn’t given up yet. Something is keeping him going, but I don’t know…” His voice trailed off as the thought forced its way into his mind again. Was it possible that Buck had found the will to push himself forward in an all-out effort to hang on to life in the hope of seeing his daughter again?

Cody took a calming breath. He did not like talking about it but knew she had to be told the truth. “The what is a little more complex. What he’s dying from is cancer, but during the past few years he’s been plagued by several other ailments and problems, not the least of which is poor circulation. It’s only through sheer will that he’s still getting around at all, let alone unassisted. His legs can’t hold out much longer. You felt his touch, how cold his skin feels.”

“But can he get proper medical care out here, so far away from a major hospital?” Her mind tried desperately to take hold and fully comprehend all she had heard.

“The doc stops by once a week. There’s a hospice nurse who comes by three times a week, and there’s Edna, of course. Edna has experience along these lines. Her husband died in much the same manner. It was right after that that she came to work for Buck. She keeps a very close eye on him during the day. I’ve tried to hire a private nurse for twenty-four-hour coverage, but Buck won’t have it.”

“But in case of an emergency…”

“He can be helicoptered to the hospital in twenty minutes.”

Melanie fell back against the wall and stared blankly at the ground as she tried to assimilate everything Cody had told her. A sick feeling churned in the pit of her stomach.

“Are you all right?” Cody’s genuine concern showed in his voice as he reached out to give her some support. He cocked his head and studied her for a moment. She was still ashen and visibly shaken, but making a valiant effort to remain calm.

Melanie felt momentarily light-headed. Then she felt his fingers close around her arm and her body being drawn against his. His strong arms were around her a moment later. Cody had stated all the horrible particulars of her father’s illness in such a matter-of-fact way, almost as if he were reciting a grocery list. But she knew she could not fault him. He clearly had a genuine concern for Buck’s comfort and well-being. She had noticed it in his eyes and had heard it in his warnings to her about upsetting her father.

“I see.” She looked up at him, attempting to regain some sort of control over the conversation. There were too many conflicting emotions…the stark reality of her father’s health and the equally real sensation of the warmth of Cody’s embrace. She saw a moment of tenderness flicker across his face when their eyes locked for a heated instant. She recalled the vivid dream where he had brushed his lips against hers. Too many conflicts…too much confusion. Nothing was happening the way she had anticipated.

This was not right, Melanie told herself. She had to extract herself from the very personal moment they were sharing. She could not deny her attraction to Cody, but she did not know exactly what his game was, and until she had him figured out she needed to keep her distance. She did not trust him…at least not yet. She also questioned whether she could trust herself where Cody Chandler was concerned.

He exerted no physical pressure on her. As soon as she pushed back from him, he released his hold on her. She nervously ran her fingers through her hair. “Uh, does my father know everything?”

“I would never keep anything from him. He’s not the type of man who would want to hide from the truth or be shielded from reality. You’re his daughter—you should know that. He prefers to meet things head-on and deal with them straight out.” He liked the way she had felt in his arms. It had been warm and comfortable—there was no denying that. It was the type of feeling that said there should be more, but until he figured out exactly why she had shown up when she had, he needed to keep a wary eye on her. “Buck knows everything.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I know everything. I did miss the final ‘Jeopardy’ question on television yesterday.” Buck pushed open the screen door and moved unsteadily out onto the front porch, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Is it possible that I’ve been the topic of conversation? It would seem to me that two attractive young people could find something better to do on a beautiful spring day than discuss the accumulated knowledge of this old man.”

Melanie caught the warning look Cody shot her way. She turned toward her father. “Sixty-four isn’t very old…Father.” She could not call him “Daddy,” as she had when she was a little girl. The word was totally out of place. It had a feel of warmth, closeness and familiarity that she did not associate with her father.