The Rancher's Homecoming

Rex could’ve kissed Callie then and there.

Wes shook his head and rasped, “I’ll manage.”

“I’ll help him before I go out and get to work on the baler again. The girls stocked up on groceries before they left, so I think you’ll find everything you need in the kitchen. If not, let me know. I’ll send someone back into town.”

Nodding, Callie left to settle the baby and get started on her work, the little one riding her hip. Rex helped Wes dress in loose jeans and a soft T-shirt. Wes even combed his thick, sugar-and-cinnamon hair, complaining about the heavy graying at his temples and needing a trim.

“We’ll get you to the barber as soon as you’re back on your feet,” Rex promised. Then he went out to tackle that old baler again.

The Straight Arrow Ranch still baled the old small, rectangular bales and stored them in pole barns situated strategically around the property because only about 25 percent of its two square miles of land was suitable for growing fodder, and much of the range to the north and west was too rough for transporting the large, round bales to which so many ranchers had gone. Besides, they already had the storage facilities, so it didn’t make sense to fix what wasn’t broken, as Wes put it. Except that the hay baler was currently broken, and Rex wasn’t making much headway fixing it.

Wes sat at the kitchen table when Rex came in for lunch, exasperated and determined not to show it. Story of his life lately. He saw no sign of the wheelchair that he’d rented, probably because Wes hated to use it, but Rex didn’t care how his dad had gotten to the table as long as he was there. He sent Callie a smile of thanks as he walked to the counter and helped himself to a tall glass of iced tea.

“How did you know he loved Mom’s pimento cheese sandwiches?” he asked softly.

She gave him the barest of smiles, whispering, “I’ve seen him eat three at a sitting.”

Saluting her with his tea glass, Rex walked to the table. He silently congratulated himself on making a good hire.

Church ladies had been helping them out since Rex’s sisters had left after getting Wes home from the hospital, providing casseroles and other dishes and sitting with Wes when called upon, but it had rapidly become obvious that they couldn’t continue to impose. The past couple weeks on their own had been rough, especially with the ranch taking more and more of Rex’s time. Rex honestly hadn’t expected to find someone to help so quickly, though. He’d only stopped at the café because he was hungry for a decent breakfast. Even before his sisters had returned to their respective jobs—Ann to Dallas, where she managed a hotel, and Meredith to Oklahoma City, where she worked as a nurse in the hospital where their father had been through surgery and would soon start chemotherapy—breakfast had been an issue. Even a well-stocked larder didn’t help if a person had no idea what to do with its contents.

Callie knew exactly what she was doing. Neither of his sisters could hold a candle to her in the kitchen. Even his mother might have had her work cut out for her. Gloria Billings had been fun, loving and more than a little scatterbrained. Callie proved efficient, quick and affable, not to mention easy on the eyes. Wes certainly seemed happy with what was on his plate, and Rex hadn’t seen that in many months, even before they’d figured out what was wrong with his dad.

Eventually Wes wiped his mouth with a napkin, saying, “Wish I could do better by this, Callie. Sure is good. Any chance you can put it up for my lunch tomorrow?”

Callie turned from the big, old stove that had been Rex’s mother’s pride and joy. Gloria had loved everything about the rustic, sprawling, sixty-year-old cedar-sided ranch house, wrapped in deep porches and steep, metal roofing that Rex’s grandfather had built. She’d even loved the drafty, smoky, fieldstone fireplace that took up one whole wall in the L-shaped living and formal dining area. Smiling, Callie walked to the rectangular kitchen table and picked up Wes’s plate.

“I think there’s enough left over for your lunch tomorrow, if that’s what you want. I was planning on Gloria’s chicken and dumplings for supper.”

Wes sat back with a happy smile. “It’s been an age since I last had that.”

“Gloria was generous with her recipes,” Callie said. “I use them all the time.”

As she carried the plate back to the sink, Wes looked to Rex. “You did good, son.”

Rex just smiled and gobbled down the last of his thick sandwich, as a thin wail rose from upstairs.

Callie calmly moved toward the back stairs. A back hallway provided access to the stairs, a laundry room, mudroom, a small bath and what his mother had used to call her craft room. His dad had taken over the latter as his bedroom to spare himself a trip up the stairs after he’d taken ill. What had once been six small bedrooms upstairs had been remodeled into four bedrooms and two roomy baths, all with sloping ceilings.

“If you need me, I’ll be in the barn,” Rex announced as Callie climbed the stairs.

“Okay,” Callie called. “We’ll be fine.”

“That baler still giving you trouble?” Wes asked with a shake of his head. “Wish I was up to helping you fix it.”

“It’s okay, Dad.” Rex got to his feet. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

His father sighed but laboriously pushed into a standing position. At sixty-two years of age and six foot four inches in height, Wes still stood a couple inches taller than Rex, but he felt perilously thin when Rex wrapped his arm lightly about Wes’s waist.

He walked his dad down the hall into his bedroom, which now contained a rented hospital bed. His sisters had draped a sheer curtain over the window, but Wes preferred to keep that pushed to one side. Rex thought it was so his father could see his mother’s peonies. Even now, four years after her unexpected death, they bloomed in the shade of the old hackberry tree at the side of the house, though the flowerbeds badly needed weeding.

Rex made a mental note to see to the flowerbeds—just as soon as he got the baler operating and the early hay harvest under way. He had to get the hay in or the cattle wouldn’t have the fodder they’d need to get through winter. The Straight Arrow covered 1,280 acres of prime ranchland, and a good portion of it had been sowed in sturdy grasses, but after several years of drought, even the good rains of the past year hadn’t allowed the range to fully recover. With Dad’s medical bills piling up—the insurance carried high deductibles and co-pays—the ranch couldn’t afford to buy more fodder than usual and still stay on a sound financial footing, which was why Rex would be paying Callie’s wages, though he intended for neither her nor his father to realize that fact. After all, he could afford it. Besides, he’d be practicing law again soon enough.

Ranching had never been Rex’s chosen career path, but without the ranch, Rex and his sisters feared that their dad would simply give up. He’d taken their mother’s death hard, and they feared that his cancer would become an excuse for him simply to let go and join her in the next life, especially if the ranch faltered. Rex couldn’t let that happen. Though not as prosperous as in years past, the ranch remained on solid fiscal footing, and Rex intended to see to it that it stayed that way. As much as he disliked the physical labor of ranching, he could, would, do this.

Besides, Callie wouldn’t be here for long. They’d only need her until Meredith could get a leave of absence from her nursing job and Ann’s company sent a temporary manager to take over for her so she could use some of those many vacation days she had stacked up. Anyway, it was worth double Callie’s wages to see Wes smiling, dressed and sitting at the table for meals again.

Meanwhile, having a pretty woman around the house, good meals on the table and clean clothes would go a long way toward helping Rex swallow his frustration and dismay with the work and do this thing for his dad. It was the least he could do for the man who had never pushed him to give up his own dreams to take over the family legacy.

* * *

After changing her daughter’s diaper, Callie nursed her in the rocking chair in front of the empty fireplace. She watched through the window as Rex walked across the yard, past an enormous bur oak, over the hard-packed red dirt road to the big red barn on the other side. The old barn sagged a bit, its white roof beaten to gray in places by the Oklahoma weather, but it still stood proudly beside a maze of corrals and a conglomeration of newer metal outbuildings.

Rex pulled on a pair of leather work gloves as he walked, his big, booted feet kicking up little dust clouds along the well-worn path. She respected him for taking time out of his law practice to come here and care for his ailing father, but she had to wonder just how much he knew about balers and livestock.

Wes obviously needed the help. His gauntness had shocked Callie more than the sudden graying of his hair, and in order to tempt his appetite she’d instantly started sorting through her mental store of Gloria Billings’s recipes and what she recalled the Billings girls had bought in her father’s grocery.

Gloria had always been very kind to Callie and widely generous with her recipes. As a motherless girl who had always known she was a disappointment to her father—Stuart Crowsen obviously would have much preferred a son to take over his many businesses—Callie had deeply admired Gloria and envied Ann and Meredith.

She barely remembered Rex. He’d been away at college by the time she’d started to take notice of boys. She hadn’t given the largely absent Rex a passing thought. She couldn’t help doing so now, though.

He was a fine-looking man, and he so obviously loved his father.

“Thank You, Lord,” she whispered, cradling Bodie against her. “Thank You for sending him into the café this morning. Thank You for this chance. Thank You for giving me a way to help Wes. Please show me how to make the most of it. I hope Gloria knows that I’ll do my best by him.”

Bodie pulled away and sat up then, giving Callie a milky smile. Callie hugged her, feeling for the first time since her husband, Bo, had died that they were truly going to be okay.

“We’re on our way now, baby girl. Soon we’ll be on our own.”

The money that she would earn here with the Billings family would take her and Bodie to a new life, someplace where Callie could find a decent-paying job and make a home for the two of them. Far away from her father. Meanwhile, she would do her best to get Wes Billings back on his feet and Straight Arrow Ranch running smoothly.

She carried Bodie downstairs, created a playpen out of kitchen chairs, filled it with her daughter’s favorite toys and went to work. This kitchen wasn’t as modern as her father’s. Even the microwave and dishwasher were ancient. The room had lots of space, though, and Callie loved the butcher-block work island.

Within the hour, the house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of chocolate chip-and-walnut cookies. Wes called from his room, “Smells good!”

“I’ll bring you a plate with a glass of milk.”

She piled half a dozen cookies on a plate, poured a talk glass of whole milk and carried them to him, along with a stack of napkins.

“I can’t eat all that,” he protested.

“Eat what you want,” she replied, leaving the snack on the bedside table within easy reach.

He helped himself to the first cookie, took a bite and closed his eyes, humming approval.

“Girl, you know your way around a kitchen.”

“I had to learn early.”

“I imagine you did.”

“Gloria was a big help.”

“My Glory was a jewel,” he said on a sigh.

“I missed her after y’all switched your membership to Countryside Church.”

“The pastor out there was the son of a good friend of mine,” Wes explained, reaching for another cookie. “We wanted to support him. He’s been gone awhile now, but by then we’d sunk pretty deep roots in that church. It’s home.”

“I understand,” Callie said. “I’ve been thinking about going there myself.”

Wes nodded and finished off the second cookie, then reached for the milk, saying, “You’ll like it. Rex is gonna like these. That old baler is giving him a real hard time. Why don’t you take him some?”

“I’ll do that,” Callie said.

Wes brightened appreciably. Callie smiled and returned to the kitchen, where she found a sturdy paper plate and a disposable cup. She filled the plate with cookies and the cup with milk. After parking Bodie on her hip, she went out through the front door, carrying the plate with the cup nestled in its center.

She entered the barn through the wide rolling door nearest the road. Rex was bent over the long, mechanical arm of the baler, growling at something.

“Maybe this will help,” she said.

He jerked upright in surprise, a ratchet in his hand. His eyebrows peaked when he saw the plate of cookies and cup of milk. “Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

“Your dad thought you might like a snack.”

“Yeah. Looks good. Won’t get that stupid bolt off, though,” he grumped, laying aside the ratchet and stripping off his gloves.

She passed him the plate. He picked up a cookie and tasted it. “Mmm. Make these from scratch?”

“Of course.”

“Dad eat any?”

“He did.”

Rex smiled and winked. “Smart girl.”

“He obviously needs to put on some weight,” she noted.

“You’ve already gotten him to eat more than we’ve been able to since he came home from the hospital. You are a great find.”

“Hold that thought,” she chortled as he gobbled three cookies and chugged half the milk before handing her back the plate and picking up the ratchet again. She figured that she had a small window to make a good impression before her father made his displeasure known.

“Maybe I can get in there without my gloves,” Rex mused, studying the baler.

“Why don’t you lift the arm?” she asked.

“I tried that. More room from the top. Not that it matters. I still can’t get in there to loosen the bolt so I can replace this part.” He tapped an electrical receiver on the arm.

She set the plate on the fender of the baler and held out her hand. “Trade you. Give me the ratchet and hold Bodie.”

“Uh...” He looked at the baby as if he’d never seen one before, and Callie hid a smile.

“She doesn’t bite. Well, she does actually. She’s teething. Just keep anything you don’t want chomped on out of her mouth.” Holding Bodie out with both hands, Callie waited for Rex to take her. He laid down the ratchet, reached, pulled back and gingerly reached out again. His enormous hands more than spanned Bodie’s little torso. “Just tuck her into the fold of your arm,” Callie instructed.

He seemed confused for a moment, but then he folded his left arm beneath the baby and pulled her against his chest. Bodie stuck her hand in her mouth and looked up at him, drooling. Callie picked up the ratchet and went to work.

“She’s got your eyes,” Rex said after a moment.

“Yep, and my hair, poor thing.” Callie tilted her shoulder, maneuvering around the curved teeth of the baling arm.

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Callie almost had to lay her cheek on the arm of the baler to reach the bolt. “Fine, stick straight, can’t make up its mind what color it is...”

“It’s blond,” he said, sounding confused.

“Several shades of blond.” She found the bolt head and slotted the socket over it, but she couldn’t get enough leverage to budge the thing. Straightening, she said, “We’re going to need an adapter.”

Rex walked over to the workbench against the wall and picked through the toolbox there, returning with a six-inch adapter, Bodie still tucked into the curve of his arm. She seemed perfectly comfortable there, one leg crossed over the other, her gaze studying him. Her pink ruffled booties and matching shorts were absolutely adorable, but Callie noticed that the T-shirt looked a little tight. After he handed over the adapter, he picked up another cookie from the plate on the fender. Callie fixed the socket to the adapter and the adapter to the ratchet.

“So you didn’t go to the hair salon to get your hair like that?” he asked conversationally.

Sputtering laughter, Callie shook her head. “I’ve seen the inside of a hair salon exactly twice in my life. The second time was to fix what I had done the first time. Me and perms do not go together.”

“Perms? Like curly hair?”

“Think corkscrews coming out of long, blond steel wool. I might as well have put my head in a fryer. I cut it off and I kept cutting it until the last of the damage was gone.” She blew at her bangs. They tended to lie flat on her forehead. “It darkened up and got all stripy while I was pregnant with Bodie.” She shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it.”

“Why would you?” he asked. “I know women who pay small fortunes to have hair like that. It looks good.”

She blinked at him, ridiculously pleased. “Thanks.” Unable to remember the last time anyone had told her anything about her looked good, she focused on the job at hand, a little breathless.

Within moments, she had the socket firmly affixed to the bolt again, but she still couldn’t budge it.

“You’ll have to manage this,” she said, turning her head to find Rex sharing his cookie with Bodie. “What are you doing? She can’t eat that!” The little scamp smacked her lips in delight, her pale eyebrows arched high.

“I—I thought... I mean, I didn’t know... She likes it,” he finished lamely.

“Of course she likes it,” Callie said, trying not to laugh, “but she’s not supposed to have it.” She pinned him with a direct look over her shoulder, her hands filled with the ratchet and bolt. “She’s just started eating solid foods, and sugar, chocolate and nuts are not on the menu.” Seeking to make a liar of her, Bodie leaned forward, her mouth nibbling on the bit of cookie that Rex still held in his fingers. “Will you please get rid of that and come here?” Callie barked.

He flung the cookie bit away and stepped toward her, wiping his hand on his shirt.

“You’ve got it on?” he asked in an incredulous tone.

“Yes. Now turn the thing.”

He covered her hand with his much larger one and gave the ratchet a single Herculean wrench, then another and another... Callie felt the bolt drop into the socket cup.

“That’s it. Short bolt.”

Rex gave a huge sigh of relief and let go, backing away. “Woman, you are worth your weight in gold. I have been working on that for hours and hours.”

Laughing, Callie carefully extricated the tool and the bolt from the machinery. “Replace your part, and I’ll help you bolt it back on,” she volunteered. “Might want to disconnect the battery first.”

“Already done,” he said, passing Bodie back to her. He smiled, and the warmth of it did funny things to Callie’s insides. “Thank you,” he went on. “Seriously. I couldn’t have done this without you. And I’m sorry about the cookie,” he added sheepishly.

“No problem.” She handed over the ratchet but kept the bolt, pretending to study it, her heart beating a little faster than it should have.

He took her hand in his, studying the bolt with her. The man’s hand felt unusually warm, almost hot. Maybe that was why she shivered.

“This is rusty. No wonder it was so hard to get off,” he said.

Realizing he was right, she cleared her throat. “Got any cleaner?”

“There’s a jar with other bolts on the workbench.”

Pulling away from him, she carried the bolt to the workbench and added it to the jar of reddish liquid before turning toward the house, Bodie riding her hip. “I’ll go check on Wes, get the laundry started and come back.”

“Great,” Rex said. “Hey, how do you know so much about this stuff?”

She turned in midstride. “My dad owns the Feed and Grain, remember? And he didn’t seem to know I was female until Teddy Gilmer asked me to the homecoming dance. Until then I was just after-school help with small hands that could get into tight places.” She wiggled her fingers.

“Remind me to thank your dad,” Rex said, smiling again and bowing slightly.

“Oh, I think you’ll get your chance,” Callie replied. Unfortunately, she doubted that any of the Billings family would feel anything close to gratitude once Stuart Crowsen showed himself.

She just hoped that she hadn’t brought them more trouble. If anyone could stand up to Stuart Crowsen, though, it was Wes Billings.

At least, Wes could do it if he was physically stronger. She’d just have to pray that was the case, and in the meantime, she’d do all that she could to prove her worth around here—and keep her daughter from eating cookies.

Chapter Three

The afternoon turned hot, with temperatures shooting up to the midnineties. Surrounded by large trees and deep porches, the old house felt comfortable enough, except for the kitchen. Used to the central air-conditioning of her father’s house, Callie soon felt herself flagging. She opened several windows, especially upstairs, and turned on all the ceiling fans she could find, including the one in the kitchen. Soon, a pleasant breeze cooled the place. She wondered how well that would do in the coming triple-digit heat of deep summer, however.

Figuring that Rex would need something cold, she made a pitcher of iced tea, then carried a glass to Wes, only to find him fast asleep. Pleased to see that he’d eaten all of his cookies and emptied his milk glass, she tiptoed away again, moved the laundry from the washer to the dryer and went out to help Rex reattach that bolt.

He drained the tumbler of iced tea that she brought him in one long gulp.

“You are quickly making yourself indispensable around here,” he gasped, holding the cold glass against his forehead.

She just smiled. “I made the tea sweet because Wes can use the calories, but if you prefer it unsweetened, I can do that, too.”

“I don’t need the calories,” he said, “but then I don’t usually work like this. Either way is fine.” He set aside the glass. “Did the AC unit kick on?”

“I didn’t know there was an AC unit.”

Rex sighed. “I think it’s broken. Dad works outside so much, I doubt he’s even bothered with it in years. For him, just getting out of the sun is usually enough. I’ll take a look at it first chance I get.”

Callie nodded, aware that Rex was overwhelmed at the moment. “Ready to replace that bolt?”

“Yep.” He looked at Bodie, who rubbed her eyes with a fist. “Must be nap time.”

“She doesn’t get a nap until her momma’s ready to start dinner,” Callie said, jiggling the baby on her hip. “Let’s do this. I’ve got clothes in the dryer.”

“Everything’s ready for you.” He nodded at the tool and clean bolt waiting on the fender of the baler. “You’ve got the housework down to a science, don’t you?” he muttered, gingerly taking Bodie into his hands.

“You’d be surprised how quickly you figure it out,” Callie said, fitting the bolt head into the socket. “A few sleepless nights and haphazard days and it all starts falling into place. I trust you’ve tested the connections and everything works.”

“Yes. Praise God! I’m serious. I have prayed repeatedly about this thing. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have it running. As it is, we have to use a custom cutter on the oats and sorghum. I was beginning to fear we’d have to hire someone to do the hay, too.”

“Are you using Dean Paul Pryor for your custom cutting?” Callie asked, bending over the baler arm to find the bolt hole.

“I think that’s who Dad mentioned. Do you know him?”

“Everyone knows Dean. When he sold his granddaddy’s farm to pay for his equipment, everyone thought he was crazy. Well, my father did. Dad would have loaned him the money, but Dean didn’t want to borrow. He said that way he stood to lose the farm and the equipment, and you know what? He was right.” She finally found the hole and got the bolt seated. With a few quick turns, she had it secured. She looked over her shoulder at Rex, who was tapping Bodie’s nose. “You’d better finish this.”