Читать книгу Lead Me Home - Vicki Thompson Lewis - Страница 8

Present Day

FOOD WAS IMPORTANT to Matthew Tredway. He loved the taste, texture and smell of good food, and at six foot five and 220 pounds, he required a lot of it. But due to a series of air-travel snafus between Richmond, Virginia, and Jackson Hole, Wyoming, he hadn’t had a decent meal all day.

Jeb Branford, a lanky, red-haired cowboy, had picked him up at the Jackson airport for the hour’s drive to the Last Chance Ranch, where Matthew was scheduled to train a problem horse named Houdini. The potentially valuable stallion had never been ridden, let alone used as a stud. Matthew had been hired in a last-ditch effort to salvage the ranch’s investment.

As a bonus, he looked forward to some down-home ranch cooking during the week or so he’d be at the Last Chance. Jeb had offered to stop somewhere for a bite to eat, but Matthew didn’t want to look at another restaurant menu if he could help it.

“I’ll just wait until we get to the ranch,” Matthew said. “I’m ready to kick back with a cold beer and some home-cooked eats.”

“I really think we should stop somewhere.” Jeb scanned the area as they headed out of Jackson. “About a mile down this road there’s a burger joint that serves really—”

“No, thanks.” A burger would do in a pinch, but Matthew longed for something that hadn’t been part of an assembly-line operation. “I’m sure leftovers from the ranch kitchen will beat your burger joint, hands down.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Mr. Tredway.”

“Matthew.”

“Okay, Matthew, although it feels funny calling you that.”

“Because I’m so old?” Matthew pegged the cowhand as early to mid twenties, and at that age, a thirty-five-year-old like Matthew probably seemed ancient.

“Heck, no!” The kid’s blush nearly obliterated his freckles. “Because you’re famous, Mr. Tred—I mean Matthew. You’ve been on TV and everything! I have your book, Think Like a Horse, and I’ve about worn it out. I lobbied for the chance to pick you up at the airport.”

“Well, thank you.” The concept of having fans always made him uncomfortable. Fame was a byproduct he hadn’t counted on when he’d set out to do the work he loved. “I’m glad the book has been useful.”

“Oh, definitely. Although we finally had to give up on Houdini, which is kind of cool since he’s the reason you’re here. I’m actually grateful to that horse for being a pain in the ass if he brought you here.”

Matthew laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Ultimately, if my program is a success, I’ll work myself out of a job.”

“I doubt that will ever happen. There’ll always be people who mess up a horse one way or another and need you to straighten things out. But listen, I really think you should eat before we get back to the ranch. We’ve passed up everything in Jackson, but Shoshone will be coming up in forty minutes or so. We could stop at the Spirits and Spurs or the Shoshone Diner.”

“Why are you so dead set on feeding me before we get to the ranch?”

“Because the food there is terrible.”

“Terrible? I find that hard to believe on a ranch the size of the Last Chance.”

“It didn’t used to be terrible. Mary Lou fixed great spreads.” Jeb spoke in a worshipful tone. “Fried chicken with her special batter, amazing ribs, potato salad seasoned just right, stew with lip-smacking gravy, biscuits that would melt in your mouth … man, what I wouldn’t give for some of that grub right now.”

Matthew had a bad feeling about how this story would end. “Don’t tell me Mary Lou up and died.”

“No, not that bad. She got married.”

“And left you high and dry?”

“For a little while, yeah. Mary Lou and Watkins, one of our top hands, are on a three-week honeymoon cruise, and nobody saw that coming because first of all she said she’d never marry him and second of all she’s not much of a traveler. But the upshot is we’re stuck with Aurelia Imogene Smith for the duration.”

“That’s quite a handle.” Matthew pictured a sour-faced woman who insisted everyone address her with the whole blessed thing.

“Yeah, well, she told us that her mother gave her two fancy names to offset the boring last one. I don’t know if those fancy names went to her head or what, but she claims to be a gourmet cook.”

“Oh.” Matthew smoothed a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. Most cowhands weren’t big on gourmet vittles.

“The hands might be able to tough it out, but I feel especially sorry for the kids. Did anybody tell you about that program?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. You’ve got, what, eight teenaged boys for the summer?”

“That’s right. This philanthropist named Pete Beckett came up with the idea of using the ranch for a residential summer program for teenage boys. They’ve been labeled troublemakers, but I guess they like being on the ranch, because they haven’t caused a single problem. I worry about this food thing, though. Teenagers need regular food. They don’t want to complain, but I can see it in their faces that they don’t like it.”

“So what does she serve that’s so bad?”

“Escargot.” Jeb said it with a groan.

“Hmm. Pricey.” Matthew wondered what sort of bills Aurelia Imogene was running up.

“It’s snails, man! You don’t eat something that crawls on the ground with slime coming out its ass! But she served a plate of those varmints and expected us to eat ’em. I don’t think so.”

“So you left them on the plate?” Matthew happened to love escargots and hated to think of that delicacy going to waste.

“Hell, no. That would have been rude. We scooped ’em out of the shells like we planned to eat them. By now we know to bring plastic bags in our pockets when we come up to the main house for lunch, which is the only meal we eat there. Mornings and evenings we fend for ourselves down at the bunkhouse with stuff like canned chili. We always used to fill up at lunch. But now we’re starving to death.”

“What’d you do with the snails?”

“Gave ’em to the dogs.”

Matthew winced at the travesty of that. Of course, maybe the snails weren’t any good. Just because someone claimed to be a gourmet cook didn’t mean they were.

“Some stuff’s so bad even the dogs won’t eat it.”

Matthew was hardwired to solve problems, and this was one he had a stake in because he did love his food. “Can’t you talk to somebody? Either her, or whoever hired her?”

“That’s just it. She’s Mary Lou’s niece, and Mary Lou invited her to come and fill in. Nobody wants to offend Mary Lou because she’s been good to us, and to be honest, I don’t know what the Chance family thinks about the food because they’ve never said anything.”

“So maybe they like it.”

“I’d be surprised. I think they’re just trying to ride it out like the rest of us. Plus, Aurelia’s sweet as can be, and I’m sure she doesn’t mean to make us gag. Nobody has the heart to hurt her feelings. In fact …” He glanced over at Matthew before sighing and turning his attention to the road again. “No, I can’t do it. It’s not fair to you.”

“What’s not fair?”

“One of the guys came up with the idea that you could pretend you were on a special diet or something, which she’d have to accommodate because you’re an honored guest, and we’d all climb on board and say we’d eat the same thing to make life easier for her.”

“I’m not going to lie to her about some bogus special diet.”

“No, I don’t think you should, either,” Jeb said quickly. “I told the boys that. Bad idea.”

“But I’d like to help. I’ve had some experience with fine dining, so maybe if I show that I appreciate what she’s trying to do, I can make some subtle suggestions that would turn things around.”

“Now that’s more like it! But I still think we should stop for food before we get to the ranch.”

Matthew shook his head. “That makes no sense. Before I can discuss food with her, I have to eat something she’s made.” He glanced at the clock on the truck’s dashboard. They wouldn’t arrive at the ranch until around seven, which was nine his time. By then he might not care what he ate.

“You’re a brave man.”

Matthew laughed. “That bad, huh?”

“I have two words for you. Goat cheese.” Jeb made a face. “Find out if she’s made something with goat cheese, and if she has, don’t eat it. I guarantee you’ll want to puke your guts out.”

Matthew decided not to admit he was fond of goat cheese, too. Demand for his training skills now brought him offers from around the world. He’d learned to appreciate all sorts of food, assuming it was prepared well.

“So I should drop you at the main house?” Jeb asked.

“Right. I need to check in with Sarah Chance, anyway. If you’ll take my duffel to the bunkhouse, you can put it on whatever bed you want me to use. I’ll unpack after I’ve had something to eat.”

“I hope you don’t mind being down with us, but it’s that or sleep in the main house with eight teenagers. I hear they’re behaving themselves, but still.”

“No worries. Bunkhouses are amongst my favorite places to sleep.” Matthew gazed out at the majestic Tetons in the distance and the grassy meadows bordering the road. After spending the past few weeks in the manicured pastures of Virginia, he relished the rugged landscape of Jackson Hole especially on a warm July day. Born not far from here in Billings, Montana, he was a Westerner at heart.

At sixteen, he’d hired on at a working ranch outside Billings. There he’d discovered his gift for working with difficult horses when he’d befriended a mare that previously had trusted no one. His boss had been a talkative man, and soon Matthew had been in demand throughout the state.

When he’d transformed a Montana senator’s unruly horse into a mount children could ride, he’d earned a national reputation for being a miracle worker. Many people had encouraged him to write a book about his methods, and that book had brought international attention to his training ability. He enjoyed the travel opportunities, but he welcomed a return to more familiar surroundings.

Jeb seemed happy about Matthew’s fondness for bunkhouses. He glanced over with a smile. “We have a card game going most nights, in case you’re interested.”

“Deal me in. Once I assess the food situation, I’ll be headed down there ready to play.” He looked forward to spending a week at a place where Stetsons and hand-stitched boots were the norm. Jackson Hole felt a lot like coming home.

SPINACH SOUFFLÉ. Aurelia had spent the past hour sitting at the kitchen table going through her cookbooks in search of something spectacular for tomorrow’s midday meal. The house was quiet for a change, because Pete Beckett had taken the teenagers to the Shoshone Diner to give Aurelia a break.

Aurelia appreciated the gesture. She enjoyed the kids, but they did make a racket, so the peaceful interlude was a good time to concentrate on her menu-planning. Going the soufflé route would be tricky with a crowd, but how gratifying if she could pull it off!

The big dining room sat thirty-two, but she wouldn’t be feeding quite that many. The eight teens took up one of the round tables. The hands and whichever members of the Chance family showed up would occupy two more tables. She didn’t have the baking dishes to make twenty-four individual soufflés, but since she didn’t have an exact head count, several bigger ones everyone could share would work better, anyway.

Or maybe she should make ratatouille, instead. She leafed through another cookbook and found the recipe for that. She’d need eggplant, but she could run into town tomorrow and pick some up. Reading through the list of ingredients, she lifted her thick hair off the back of her neck to catch the evening breeze coming in the kitchen window. The ranch didn’t have air-conditioning because it wasn’t needed often in Jackson Hole, but they could have used some AC today.

Aurelia’s boss, Sarah Chance, had apologized for the lack of cooling and had brought a fan into the kitchen while Aurelia was fixing brochettes aux rognons, de foie et lardons for lunch. Apparently this July had been warmer than usual, although it didn’t seem bad to Aurelia, who was used to Nebraska’s summers.

This was her first trip out of Nebraska, and although she was enjoying the chance to try recipes and cook for a crowd, she couldn’t imagine doing it on a regular basis. She’d happily go back to her stress-free routine of working at the bank and cooking for herself and her friends on her days off.

As she puzzled over whether to serve the ratatouille or the spinach soufflé the next day, she heard voices coming from the hallway that led into the large dining room. One she recognized as Sarah’s, but the deep baritone didn’t sound like any of Sarah’s three adult sons or Pete, who had recently become Sarah’s fiancé.

As the voices drew closer and Aurelia heard Houdini’s name mentioned, she figured out the horse trainer had arrived. And he’d probably arrived hungry if Sarah was bringing him back to the kitchen. Happy anticipation made Aurelia smile. She loved feeding people.

A moment later Sarah walked into the kitchen followed by a very tall man with shoulders a mile wide and eyes bluer than the center of a gas flame. Aurelia caught her breath as she stood to greet the most imposing cowboy she’d seen since setting foot on the Last Chance. And that was saying something, because the ranch was chock-full of good-looking cowboys.

The horse trainer held his tan Stetson in one hand. He’d obviously been wearing it all day because his wavy brown hair bore the crease of it, along with a faint pink mark on his forehead, which she found endearing. His face and throat were bronzed by the sun, which presented a nice contrast to the blue denim Western shirt he wore. She didn’t allow her gaze to travel lower in case he’d think she was giving him the once-over. She’d save that for when he wasn’t looking right at her.

Aurelia’s boss wasn’t small at five foot nine, but this man made Sarah Chance look dainty. Sarah tucked her sleek bob, which she’d allowed to turn its natural white, behind her ears as she smiled at Aurelia. “Here’s the magician who’s going to solve our problems with Houdini. Matthew Tredway, may I present our cook, Aurelia Smith.”

“Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand, which was engulfed by his much larger one.

His handshake was warm, and so was his smile. “Same here. I asked Sarah if you might have some leftovers for me. I haven’t eaten much all day.”

She’d seldom taken such an instant liking to someone, but Matthew had the square-jawed look of a man a girl could count on. “I’ll be happy to fix you something.” She couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face, either. Her girlfriends had talked about instant sexual chemistry, but she’d thought they were imagining things because she’d never felt it before. In less than sixty seconds, Matthew Tredway had made a believer out of her.

Too bad she and Matthew were both only temporarily in the same place, but at least now she understood what her friends back home had been talking about. It really was like being struck by lightning, as evidenced by her pounding heart.

Before she’d fully processed her feelings, a commotion erupted in the main part of the house. Young male laughter and good-natured taunts, coupled with the sound of feet thumping on the stairs to the second floor, indicated the teenagers had returned from town.

Sarah glanced at Matthew and Aurelia. “If you two will excuse me, I’d better go check on the kids.”

And Pete. Aurelia got such a kick out of watching the sixty-something couple. Anyone would think they were teenagers themselves as they held hands and shared a brief kiss now and then. Sarah had been widowed nearly three years ago, and her sons seemed happy that she’d found someone like Pete.

As Sarah headed out of the kitchen, Aurelia remembered her duties as the ranch cook. “Do you think the boys will want an evening snack? I have some roasted figs left.”

Sarah turned back to her. “If I know Pete, he bought them all a slice of homemade pie at the diner, so I think they’re set for the night. Thanks, though.”

“Just wanted to make sure.”

“I’d take some of those roasted figs,” Matthew said.

Aurelia glanced at him. “Not until you’ve had a proper meal.” When Matthew laughed, she realized how anal that had sounded. “Sorry, I’ve been dealing with teenagers for a week. If you want dessert first, you certainly can have it.”

“That’s okay.” His smile creased his tanned cheeks. “I’ll wait on the figs.”

She had the insane urge to stand on tiptoe, clutch that smiling face, and plant one right on his gorgeous mouth. He was way too handsome for his own good.

But kissing him after knowing him for five minutes wasn’t a great idea. Instead she walked over and clicked the oven knob before opening the industrial-sized refrigerator. “Then I’ll warm up the leftover brochettes aux rognons, de foie et lardons we had for lunch.”

“My French is pretty sparse, but I think I’ve had that before.”

She turned, the foil-covered platter in her hand, and stared at him. “You have? I’ve never met anyone who’s eaten it before.”

“Tell me what’s in it and I’ll know for sure.”

“Kidneys, liver and bacon on a skewer.”

Matthew nodded. “That was my guess. Sounds great.”

“Where did you have it?” Now she was nervous. Maybe the version he’d eaten had been better than what she’d fixed today.

“A restaurant on the Left Bank.”

“In Paris?” Now she was really nervous.

“Yes. Ever been to France?”

“No. I’m not really into travel.”

“You’re not? Why?”

She shrugged. “I like the comforts of home too much, I guess. Traveling just doesn’t appeal to me.”

“But you could sample the food cooked by natives.”

“I’d rather try making it at home myself.” She wished she’d offered him something else, but too late for that now. Transferring several skewers to a baking dish, she flicked on the oven and slid the dish inside to heat. “But since I’ve never tasted the real thing like you have, my version may not be what you’re used to.”

“I’m sure it’ll be terrific.”

“I hope so. Reheated won’t be quite the same as when they were first broiled.” She gathered up her cookbooks so he’d have a place to eat. “Go ahead and sit.” Then she had an inspiration. “Would you like some wine? It’s not French, but Sarah always keeps some good California reds on hand.”

“Only if you’ll have a glass with me.”

“Well … okay.” She knew Sarah wouldn’t mind. She’d have a little, to be hospitable. “Be right back.” She opened the door to the walk-in pantry and ducked inside. Once there, she dithered over the wine selection, trying to imagine what a man who’d been to Paris would prefer.

“Want me to pick one?” Matthew walked into the pantry and the space instantly shrank.

“Um, sure. That makes sense.” She stepped away from the wine rack, but there really wasn’t anywhere to go. Once he moved in front of it, they were practically touching. The small space filled with his scent—a crisp, manly aroma that jacked up her pulse rate.

She became aware of his steady breathing as he pulled out a couple of bottles, checked the labels and moved on. She was afraid they weren’t to his liking. “I know it’s not a huge selection.”

“No, it’s great! I just don’t want to drink up the pricey stuff.”

“But you should! Take the most expensive bottle! From the way everyone’s talked about you, they’d be honored for you to have it.”

“I don’t know what they’ve said, but the truth of the matter is that I’m an ordinary guy who can drink six-dollar wine and be perfectly happy. Here we go.” He pulled out a bottle and showed it to her. “This will do fine.”

She took a shaky breath and hoped he couldn’t tell how his nearness affected her. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” He gestured toward the pantry door. “After you, mademoiselle.”

Dear God, he even said it with a French accent. She brushed past him, aware of every point of contact with his solid body. She couldn’t tell if he was attracted to her, too, but it really didn’t matter.

He was here to train a horse and he’d spend his evenings at the bunkhouse, according to what Sarah had said. Tonight might be the only time she’d be alone with him for the rest of his stay. Considering they were from completely different worlds, that was probably for the best.