Читать книгу The Rancher and the Runaway Bride - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 8

It was still dark when Brady made his way to the barn the next morning. There were lights on in the bunkhouse, and the smell of coffee wafted through the still air. He’d heard Rita walk past his bedroom door at ten minutes after four, so he knew she’d gotten up on time. At least one of his concerns had been addressed. Which left all the others. She’d claimed to have worked in a stable for several years, but without being able to check references, he had no way of verifying that information. Did she know her way around a horse? What kind of job was she doing?

He rounded the corner of the barn and found the wide double door propped open. The portable radio kept in the tack room had been placed on a bale of hay. Soft, classical music played quietly.

Rita stood next to a black gelding, her dark hair the same color as the horse’s mane. The large animal dwarfed her, yet it was obvious who was in charge. She spoke in a low voice, keeping the animal’s attention and helping it place her as she moved around its body, brushing its legs with a dandy brush. The gelding’s ears moved back and forth as if absorbing all that she was saying, processing the information, then responding with a flick of its tail or a brief snort.

Brady walked past her without saying anything. Bent over the horse as she was, she didn’t see him. He grabbed the feed clipboard and started down the center aisle.

According to Rita’s notes, each of the horses had been fed the proper amount. They were all up and alert, with no obvious signs of illness. Brady randomly checked a couple of stalls. He found clean straw, empty feed bowls and plenty of hay and water. Behind the barn, damp straw had been spread out to dry in the morning sun. He scanned the clipboard again. She’d put a star by Casper’s name and added a comment that she’d read the previous note about his injury and that this morning he seemed to be moving around without any discomfort. There was no swelling. In her opinion, he’d recovered from the sprain and was ready to start light exercise.

“Not bad,” he said, making his way to Casper’s stall. The gray gelding greeted him by making a snuffling noise and nudging him in the center of his chest.

“Too early for apples,” Brady said as he rubbed the horse between the ears, then scratched behind the left one. Casper curled his lips back as if to say the attention was nice but he would have preferred an apple.

“Let’s see if Rita’s right about your leg, old boy.” Brady stepped into the stall and ran his hands down Casper’s left rear leg. An unexpected gopher hole had injured the animal. They were lucky it had just been a sprain. “Feels good to me. How’d you like a pretty lady to exercise you today?”

Casper snorted.

“We’ll wait a couple of days before she rides you, though.”

Brady patted the horse and walked to the front of the stable. “How’s it going?” he asked as he hung the clipboard back on its hook.

Rita jumped, startling the gelding. She quickly placed her hand on the animal’s neck and spoke soothingly before turning to Brady. She touched her chest and smiled. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I knew you didn’t see me come in, but I thought you heard me rattling around in back.”

She shook her head. “I guess I was involved with my work.”

“Good.” He stepped close to the gelding and ran his hands over the animal’s back. “Nice job.”

“Thanks.”

She wore a T-shirt and jeans. Her braid had dissolved into a riot of curls. Green-and-brown stains dotted her thighs and her midsection; sweat made a damp patch on her back. There wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face, no jewelry, nothing even remotely feminine. Yet her eyes flashed with intelligence and humor, and when she smiled he found himself smiling back. There was something about Rita Howard, something that made him wish he believed in taking those kinds of risks.

“I heard you go downstairs about four this morning,” he said.

She bit her lower lip. “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“I was already up.”

“Oh, I get it. You were wondering if I was going to show up on time.”

“Don’t take it personally. It happens every time I hire someone.”

She laughed. “You didn’t have to worry. I was so nervous about sleeping through the alarm that I must have checked the clock fourteen times. After the horses are exercised, I just might take a nap.” Her laughter faded. “If you don’t mind.”

“Rita, you’re only expected to put in eight or ten hours a day. Once the horses are fed, the stables are cleaned and the men have left, you do what you want with your time. If you want to split the rest of the work between the morning and afternoon, that’s fine.” He remembered the dark, empty kitchen. “I forgot to tell you last night there’s a coffeemaker in the kitchen. Since you have to get up so early and breakfast isn’t until six, feel free to make coffee and have something to eat. There’s plenty of food. Help yourself.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He nodded toward the stalls. “I checked Casper and I agree with your notes. Start him on light exercise today. If he continues to improve, you should be able to ride him by the beginning of the week.” He returned his attention to her. “You were very thorough. I appreciate that.”

Despite faint color staining her cheeks, she met his gaze. “I’m glad. This job is important to me, Brady. I know you took a chance on an unknown quantity, and I don’t want to let you down.”

He found himself not wanting to be let down. He wanted Rita to be one of the good guys so he would have a reason to believe in her. Unfortunately, life wasn’t that tidy.

“So far, so good,” he said. “The vet should be by today to check on a pregnant mare.” At her look of confusion he nodded. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s August. It’s not good having a mare ready to foal in a couple of months. Let’s just say we had an interesting accident with one of our stallions.”

“You should be a more responsible parent,” Rita teased. “It’s important for you to explain about protected sex to your horses.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, when the vet comes out, make a note of any problems. So far the mare’s doing great. This is just routine.” He thought for a moment. “I guess that’s everything. Keep up the good work.”

At that moment, Tex rang the bell hanging outside the dining room in the bunkhouse.

“Breakfast,” Brady said. “After all the work you’ve done this morning, you must be hungry.”

“Starved. You think if I have three servings of everything, Tex will start to like me?”

“Uh-huh.”

She glanced at him and grinned. Brady found himself grinning back. He knew better than to risk getting involved, yet he waited while she led the gelding back to its stall, then walked with her to the bunkhouse. As she chatted about the various horses, he wondered about her past.

Last night she’d mentioned a brother. Was there other family? Why didn’t she put them down as references? Did they know where she was? And most important, why was she on the run? He’d known drifters all his life. A ranch like his attracted them. Men worked for a few months, then moved on. He’d learned how to read the restlessness in their eyes when it was near their time to go.

Rita wasn’t like them. Not only because she was a woman, but because everything about her screamed “home.” She’d obviously grown up somewhere, had been educated. Life on the road was the exception, not the rule.

All of which didn’t mean she was safe. So he was going to ignore the fire licking up his belly and remind himself he was nothing more than Rita’s boss. When whatever had chased her from home was gone, she would return. Even if she didn’t, she wasn’t going to want to make her life on the ranch, so there was no point in wishing for the moon.

They walked toward the bunkhouse. A familiar shape moved out of the shadows of the barn and headed toward them. “That’s Princess,” he said, pointing at the multicolored, long-haired dog. “She’s an Australian shepherd. I thought she might be interested in helping with the cattle, but she seems to prefer cats.”

Rita peered at the dog. “She’s got something in her mouth. Oh, no! It’s moving! Is she killing it?” She started for the dog.

“Don’t worry,” Brady said, catching up with her and grabbing her arm. “Princess wouldn’t hurt anything. She’s taking care of her cats. Come here, girl.”

The dog trotted over and set down the object in her mouth. It turned out to be a kitten, maybe ten or twelve weeks old. The furry baby, all black except for a white patch on its nose, meowed plaintively. Princess swiped at the kitten with her tongue, then looked up and gave a doggy grin as if to say “Look at what I have. Aren’t you impressed?”

Brady sighed. He wasn’t the least bit impressed or amused, but he wouldn’t tell Princess that.

Rita crouched down and let Princess sniff her fingers, then she patted the dog. “I don’t understand. She has cats? Like pets?”

“They’re more of a commune. People drop off strays, she finds them and brings them home. We feed them, but otherwise, she takes care of them.”

Rita turned her attention to the kitten, rubbing under its chin and making it purr loudly. “What do you mean?”

“She keeps track of them, makes sure they don’t fight. During the day, she herds them from shady spot to shady spot.”

Rita stood up and laughed. “She herds them? You mean, she makes them move around in a group?”

“I know it sounds weird. You’ll see it today. I’m not sure why the cats don’t just run off, but they do what she says. When there are kittens, she helps baby-sit. If another dog strays onto the property, she chases it off. Basically, caring for her cats keeps her busy.”

Rita tucked a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ears. “How many cats are there?”

Brady shuddered. “I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Probably close to twenty. Tex feeds them, and I’ve told him to keep the exact number to himself.”

They paused in front of the bunkhouse. Brady could hear the other men inside, already starting breakfast. Rita moved to the outdoor sink and began washing her hands. “Have you given any away?”

“A few. There are plenty of people around here who want barn cats. They take care of pests, and sisters from the same litter often hunt well together. Also, some of the ladies in town want house cats. I should do more to find them homes, but I don’t have the time.”

“Of course, you don’t secretly like the cats yourself, right?” she teased.

“Never that.”

She dried her hands on a towel Tex left by the sink. With her head tilted to one side, she fixed her gaze on his face.

“What?” he asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious, as if he’d forgotten a spot when he shaved.

“I was just wondering when you lost control of this ranch, Brady Jones. You’ve got a bunkhouse full of drifters, a dog who collects stray cats, and Lord knows what else going on.”

He grinned. “There are days when the ranch runs me,” he admitted.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

“Not for a minute.”

* * *

Randi carried a dish-laden tray into the kitchen. The men had already inhaled their breakfast and left to start their day. About half of them used trucks to get to the far reaches of the ranch, the other half saddled up, just like cowboys had been doing for a hundred years. She’d watched it all, feeling as if she’d just stepped back in time.

The kitchen reminded her this was very much the present. The huge room was bright with white counters, floors and walls. Stainless-steel appliances reflected the light. The stove was the biggest she’d ever seen, with eight burners and a grill in the middle. There were triple sinks on both sides of the room, a bay window and a planter filled with what looked like fresh herbs.

Tex came in from the pantry just as she set the dirty dishes on the counter. He paused when he saw her. “You got your own responsibilities, missy. There’s no reason to help me.”

“So my eating that last biscuit made a difference?” she asked, her voice teasing.

The older man grumbled something she couldn’t hear.

“Was that an ‘uh-huh’ I heard?”

He glared at her, pale blue eyes piercing her like steel blades. She met his gaze and didn’t dare blink. If this was a test of wills, she was determined to, if not win, at least earn his respect.

Tex was in his late forties and had the permanent tan of a man who spent most of his life outdoors. He sported a trimmed mustache. His receding hairline had reached his crown and the hair that remained was trimmed regulation short. Once a marine, always a marine.

He looked away first. “If you have enough time to be mouthing off with me, you might as well help me feed Princess and the cats. Their bowls are in there.” He motioned to a lower cupboard under the counter next to the sink.

She pulled open the door and saw a half-dozen medium-size stainless steel bowls stacked inside of one another.

“We need ’em all,” he told her, then walked into the pantry. He returned with two large cans of cat food and a smaller one of dog food. “Take three into the pantry. There’s a barrel full of dry food for the cats. Fill ’em with that and set ’em out. You can change their water while you’re at it.”

“Sure,” Randi said, resisting the urge to add “sir.” Tex didn’t strike her as a man who would have been an officer, and no doubt he would bite her head off for calling a noncom “sir.”

She did as he ordered, scooping out the fishy-smelling dry food. The back door was partially open. She nudged it wider and prepared to step outside. Instead she paused, staring openmouthed.

The animals obviously knew it was feeding time. A group of maybe fifteen or twenty cats scampered toward the kitchen. Princess brought up the rear, jogging in step with her cats, moving to the left or the right to keep them in formation. A calico dashed ahead. A quick bark from Princess brought the feline up short.

Randi laughed. “I’m looking right at them and I can’t believe it.”

“Princess knows her business and the cats listen. You gonna stand there or are you gonna feed them?”

“I thought I might do a little of both,” she said, giving him a smile over her shoulder, then stepping onto the porch and setting down the two bowls she held. She waited for Tex to follow her out before she returned for the third bowl of dry food.

He could carry more than she could, and he held three bowls of canned cat food in one arm. Princess’s dish was in his other hand. The animals swarmed around. Rita set down the last of the dry food, then cleaned out water bowls and refilled them. By the time she’d finished, Tex had settled on the top step and was lighting a cigar. He waved it at her.

“I know it’s smelly and not good for me, so there’s no point in you mentioning the fact.”

“Okay, I won’t.” She plopped down next to him, figuring if he hadn’t wanted company he would have sat in the middle so there was no room for her, instead of off to one side. She turned her head to watch the cats. “I think there’s more food than they can eat.”

“Yup. The dry food will stay out all day. I take it in at night because we don’t want pests around the place.”

“Don’t the cats take care of that?”

“Not the big pests. They could hurt the cats. Princess, too, if she decided to play protector. And she would.”

He blew smoke. Randi had never cared for the smell of cigars or pipes, but she wasn’t about to tell Tex that. Not that he would care or listen. She was the outsider here; it was up to her to fit in with everyone else.

“You were up early,” he said after a while.

“So were you. I saw the lights on in the kitchen.”

He nodded. “I made coffee, if you want some.”

“Thanks, but Brady said I could make some there. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother. If it was, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“What a gracious charmer,” she said without thinking. “You must be really popular with the ladies.”

Instead of snapping at her, he grinned. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

“So, you just pretend to be a cranky old man?”

“I’m not so old.”

Rita glanced at him. “It’s all an act, isn’t it? This tough-guy thing.”

“I can be tough.”

“That’s right. I bet you were a marine. How long were you in?”

“Twenty years.”

She pulled her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. The morning was already warm, and the afternoon would be sweltering. But for now, it was pleasant. The smells from the barn took the edge off the scent of the cigar. It wasn’t as horrible as she would have thought.

“After twenty years with the marines, how did you end up here?”

“Just like everyone else. I had nowhere else to go.” He bit down on his cigar. “Brady’s daddy hired me. I needed the job, so I agreed to take it for the summer. That was ten years ago and I’m still here.”

“Do you have any plans to move on?”

“Nope. I like it here. First place I’ve ever called home. Except the Corps. What about you?”

As she’d asked questions about him, it was only fair that he got to ask a few about her. Randi stared out at the yard as, one by one, the cats finished with breakfast and strolled off for their post-breakfast grooming.

“I’m not from around here,” she began tentatively.

“You don’t say.”

She shot him a glance and smiled. “I’ve never been a marine.”

“Shoot, you probably don’t have any tattoos, either.”

“Not a one.”

He shook his head. “Guess there’s no hope for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I learn quickly.”

“Have any plans to move on?” he asked, repeating the same question she’d asked him.

Their answers were going to be different. “Yes,” she said simply, then waited for him to ask her when.

He didn’t. He puffed on the cigar for a few minutes, then said, “You might want to think about staying around long enough to meet Brady’s folks. They’re good people. You’ll like ‘em. They’re a close family with big hearts. They make all of us feel like part of the group, especially at the holidays. Vi cooks up a big turkey. Won’t let me help with anything. I make a few pies the day before, but that’s it.”

“They sound nice.” Different from her own family, she thought. Her mother would never invite the help to the table. She never even thought to give them the day off. Holidays were a time to entertain, to be seen at the correct parties, to give the correct gifts. That was somewhere else Randi had always fallen short. She refused to let go of the belief that gifts should come from the heart instead of from a certain store or catalog.

Princess strolled over and sat next to the stairs. Randi bent over and let the Australian shepherd sniff her fingers. When Princess gave her a quick lick of approval, she began stroking the dog’s head and rubbing her ears. In the shade of the trees, stretched out in the sun or sitting in flower beds, the cats all groomed.

Randi pointed to a gray-and-black tabby. “Either that one’s really fat or you’re going to have a litter of kittens pretty soon.”

“She’s pregnant. Brady tries to get them spayed or neutered as soon as Princess rounds them up, but sometimes we miss one.”

“He said you try to give them away in town.”

“It’s time to make more of an effort. Costs money to feed this many cats.”

“Maybe the next time I go to town I’ll ask around,” she volunteered. It was the least she could do after Brady had been willing to give her a chance.

“You do that. I’ve never had much luck at it, but maybe you’ll have better.”

She chuckled. “Why do I think you ordered people to take cats and were shocked when they refused?”

Instead of answering, he puffed on his cigar. Still, she could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. Tex was all gruff talk, but underneath he was a marshmallow. However, she must remember never to tell him that. Not if she didn’t want her head chewed off.

They sat in companionable silence. A couple of the cats got up and stretched, but none of them moved out of the area. Then, without warning, Princess barked. One by one the cats stood up and started for the barn. When the pregnant tabby fell behind, the shepherd moved next to her and yipped. The cat hissed. Princess swiped at her with her tongue. The tabby rubbed her face against the dog’s front left leg, then trotted to the barn.

“Amazing,” Randi said. “They really listen to her.”

“Too bad women don’t listen to men the same way.”

“If men were as sensible as Princess, they just might.”

“Uh-huh.”

She laughed. “I like it here, Tex, and I like you.”

He blew a smoke ring. “Brady’s a good man.”

She stared at him. Had she missed a transition in the conversation? “He seems to be.”

“He’s had his share of trouble, but he’s gotten through it. Things are going well for him. Would be a shame if that changed.”

“I’m sure—” She clamped her lips together. Okay, she got it. He was warning her off. Brady didn’t need trouble and that’s how Tex had pegged her. Surprisingly, his assessment hurt. She wanted to tell him he was wrong about her, that she wasn’t the type to make trouble, but was that true? She’d shown up with little luggage, no past, and was obviously on the run from something. People didn’t usually run away from good stuff in their lives.

She stood up. “I have my reasons for being here,” she said. “I’m not going to explain them except to say that they have nothing to do with anyone else. You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to mess up Brady’s perfect life.” She brushed her hands against her rear and walked down the steps. “I have some work to finish up in the barn. I’ll see you later.”

She headed around the building without waiting for him to respond or looking back to see if he waved. The comfortable mood had been broken.

When she reached the barn, Princess had the cats lying in a nearly perfect circle. Some were still grooming, but most had already stretched out for their morning nap. She thought about the dog’s odd behavior and the cats allowing it. Was it any stranger than Brady’s collection of strays?

She remembered a Christmas special on television when she was growing up. The title eluded her, but the show had been about a land of misfit toys. That’s what they were here on the ranch. Misfit people, and Brady was their leader. Oddly enough, she sensed she could feel safe here. At least until it was time to move on.

If she was smart she would use her time here to figure out a plan. At some point she was going to have to go home and face Hal. A twinge of guilt flickered in her chest. Maybe she should have called him. But what was there to say? Abandoning him at the church was a pretty clear message. She doubted he was expecting or hoping for a reconciliation. Hal was the consummate politician—he knew when to cut his losses. No doubt he was relieved. Her behavior proved she wasn’t cut out to be a politician’s wife. Not getting married was better for both of them.

Randi grabbed a halter and headed toward Casper’s stall. She might as well exercise the gelding before it got too hot.

As she led the horse outside, her thoughts strayed back to Grand Springs. Even though not marrying Hal had been the right thing to do, she was embarrassed by her behavior. She was twenty-four-years old. When was she going to stop running out on her problems?

At least she could be confident that she was finally growing up. Life on the road had a way of wearing away at a person’s pretensions. Over the next few days and weeks she would figure out the best thing to do. After all, there was more than Hal to worry about. There were the men with the guns.

She stepped into the center of the ring and urged Casper to walk. As she monitored the horse’s gait to make sure he wasn’t favoring his healing leg, she wondered if it was too late to call the police. Would they believe her? She shook her head. No doubt they would think she was trying to excuse her behavior so she wouldn’t look like such a flake for running off.

But the men were real, and their guns had been more than water pistols. Why would someone want to kill her?

The fear returned, and with it a coldness that made Randi’s limbs go numb. She shook her head to force the thoughts away. No one was going to find her on the ranch. She didn’t have to make a decision today. She didn’t even have to think about what had happened. All she had to do was finish her chores.

The steady sound of hooves caught her attention. She glanced up and saw Brady riding back to the barn. His cowboy hat hid his face from view, but her memory supplied a picture of his handsome features. He moved with the confidence of a man who has spent a large portion of his life in the saddle.

He was about as different from Hal as denim was from silk. After being gone for nearly two months, Randi couldn’t figure out why on earth she’d allowed herself to be railroaded into the engagement or the wedding. Ten minutes before the ceremony she hadn’t been sure she’d liked Hal, let alone loved him. Now she knew she’d been right to worry. Her only lingering feeling about him was relief that she’d gotten away in time. The thought of marriage made her shudder. She couldn’t think about kissing him without grimacing. Thank goodness they’d never made love.

Brady rode closer. Maybe it was her imagination, but the sun seemed to shine a little brighter on him. She hadn’t needed Tex to tell her Brady was a great guy. But if he were so wonderful, why wasn’t he married? Was there a hideous flaw she hadn’t discovered, or some dark secret from his past? And why was it suddenly so important for her to know?