Romancing the Cowboy

“And someone wants to buy it?” Jared asked.

“Yep. And he’s courtin’ me, too.”

Courting her? Jared furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Granny laughed. “Not courting me like a moonstruck lover. He’s just calling and sweet-talking me some, hoping I’ll sell. And to tell you the truth, I think it’s time. Everett said it would be a good investment for our old age.”

“Where is it located?” Jared asked.

“Not too far from Las Vegas. Everett always thought the town would grow and that the property would be valuable someday.”

“So do you want to sell?” he asked.

“If they make me a decent offer.”

Jared feared, at her age, she might not be able to negotiate a real-estate deal—not without being taken advantage of. And who was to say what a “decent offer” was? “Why don’t you let me talk to that guy the next time he calls?”

“All right.” Granny took a sip of coffee, then watched as Connie took a platter of pancakes from the oven, where they’d been kept warm, and placed them on the table. Each one was an uneven shade of brown and shaped like the ink blots on a Rorschach test. Jared wondered if the hands had chosen the ones that looked more edible and left these behind.

“Hotcakes anyone?” Connie asked.

Matt merely stared at the stack, and Jared wondered if he’d make it until lunch if he didn’t eat any of them.

“Thanks,” Granny said, snagging one that was a little too dark around the edges for Jared’s taste. “They’re looking better each time you make them, Connie. I told you perfect flapjacks just take practice.”

It seemed pretty apparent that Granny hadn’t required her new cook to provide references.

Before long, they were joined at the table by Sabrina and her nephew, whose eyes widened when he spotted Jared. “We never get to eat with the cowboys.” Then his gaze lit on Matt and his wheelchair.

Jared had to give the kid credit for biting his lip, rather than commenting.

After Granny made the introductions, Sabrina dug through the pile of hotcakes and found one shaped like an egg. It was a perfect shade of brown on one side, and nearly white on the other.

She placed it on the boy’s plate, but he seemed more interested in Matt’s chair. Curiosity grew in his eyes.

“My grandfather has a wheelchair,” the boy finally said. “But it isn’t as cool as yours.”

“Mine’s pretty cool,” Matt said.

Was Jared the only one who sensed sarcasm in his brother’s tone?

“What happened to you?” the boy asked. “My grandpa fell down and broke his hip.”

“Matt broke his legs,” Granny explained, probably assuming her middle son would shine the kid like he usually did when someone brought up the subject. Or maybe she was just trying to take the heat off him. “Thank God he won’t have to stay in the chair forever.”

Maybe not, although that was left to be seen. But either way, Matt would never compete in the rodeo again, which was his life. So Jared suspected his brother didn’t get a whole lot of comfort from that. If he did, you’d think he’d be trying harder to get better.

“Have you started physical therapy again?” Granny asked.

Wrong question, Jared could have told her. But he didn’t.

Matt tensed, then glanced at her, his expression blank. “No. Not yet.”

Footsteps sounded, and the redhead—Tori—joined them at the table, taking a seat next to the boy.

“How’d you sleep last night?” Tori asked Granny.

“Only woke up once to use the bathroom,” Granny said. “You were right about that medication.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

It was bad enough that three strangers had infiltrated Granny’s life and home, but it was even worse to have them buttinginto her personal habits.

“Hey, cool,” Joey said, as he pulled his fork out of the gooey middle of his hotcake. “They’re cream-filled.”

“Uh-oh. Sorry about that.” The blond cook snatched away the boy’s plate. “That’s not cream filling, it’s batter. I guess that one needs to be cooked a little more.”

This was crazy. Jared wondered if Sabrina, the bookkeeper, knew how to run an adding machine or if Tori, the maid, knew which end of the broom was up.

He had to talk Granny into selling the ranch and moving in with him, where he could take care of her. Too bad she was every bit as stubborn as she was good-hearted.

A knock sounded at the door. Before waiting to be invited in, the ranch foreman entered the mudroom. “Sorry to interrupt breakfast, but Earl Clancy just split his head wide-open. He’s refusing to go into town and see a doctor, but it looks pretty bad to me.”

“He needs to go anyway,” Sabrina said. “If he’s worried about the cost, worker’s compensation will take care of it.”

Tori scooted her chair away from the table. “I’ll go take a look at the wound. Maybe I can talk Earl into getting it checked.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” Lester turned toward the door and placed his hat back on his head. “I’d sure appreciate that.”

The redhead reached into a cupboard near the refrigerator and pulled out a white metal box with a red cross on the front. Jared wondered if she had first-aid training, suspecting that she might have. Still, that didn’t make her Florence Nightingale.

“You know,” he said, getting to his feet, “I think I’ll go check on the injured man myself. If he needs a doctor, I’ll drive him into town.”

And even if he didn’t, Jared wanted to get the foreman off by himself. Lester Bailey had been working for the Rocking C for almost as long as Jared could remember, and if anyone had a handle on Granny’s mental state, it was him.

“I’ll keep the hotcakes warm for you,” the cook said.

“Thanks, Connie. But don’t bother.” Jared would much rather pick up something to eat in town. As he reached the back door of the mudroom and grabbed his hat, footsteps sounded behind him.

“Wait a minute.”

He turned to see Sabrina heading after him, a plastic container in her arms. “Why don’t you take a couple of cookies with you? Think of them as a hearty bowl of oatmeal-on-the-run, only better.”

Jared, who’d always had a sweet tooth, reached inside and pulled out one of the plumpest cookies he’d ever seen. “Who made these?”

“Connie did.”

The cook?

“She’s a whiz at making sweets and desserts. So I don’t think one will be enough.” She handed him a couple more.

He took the cookies she offered, then watched as she reached into the jar and pulled out one for herself. After taking a bite, she closed her eyes, relishing each chew.

Jared had never known that eating could be so damn sexy. His mind wandered to the vision Sabrina had made last night, wearing that flowing white nightgown and with that veil of hair sluicing over her shoulders and down her back.

Now, as she murmured a “Mmm” in delight, it set off a wave of hunger inside of him. And he wasn’t talking about food.

But under the circumstances, the cookies would be a healthier choice.

Chapter Three

Jared’s talk with the foreman would have to wait until after he’d driven Earl Clancy, the injured ranch hand, into the Brighton Valley Urgent Care Center for stitches.

Not only did Tori seem to have a good handle on first aid, she also had a way of dealing with a tough-asrawhide ranch hand who didn’t want “folks fussin’” over him.

When cajoling the crotchety wrangler into seeking medical help hadn’t worked, she got tough and slapped her hands on her hips. “Earl, don’t be stubborn. That wound is going to get infected if you don’t get it treated.”

Lester eased closer. “Ma’am, I’m afraid they don’t come any more hardheaded than Earl. About five years back, he lost his big toe when he didn’t take care of an ingrown nail.”

“Is that right?” Tori shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Well, listen here, Earl. There’s not a whole lot above the shoulders you’re going to want them to amputate. Now, get into Mr. Clayton’s truck and let him drive you to town.”

Earl grumbled some, but he did as the woman ordered.

“You’ll be back and mending that fence before you know it,” Lester told him.

But in reality, Jared and Earl hadn’t returned until just after lunch. Tori had called it right, though. She’d guessed it would take close to fifteen stitches to close the wound, and Jared had counted sixteen.

As they approached the barn, the truck hit a pothole in the driveway, and Earl rattled off an “Ow,” followed by a few choice swear words. “I told that damn nurse I didn’t need a tetanus shot, but she was as pushy as that redheaded maid. And just to be ornery, I think she hit a nerve in my rump. And now my backside hurts worse than my head.”

Jared parked the truck near the barn, where one of the hands had left Earl’s horse waiting for him, saddled and ready to go.

“You need any help?” he asked the man.

“Heck, no. I’ve had about all the tender lovin’ care I need for the rest of my life.”

Jared watched as Earl climbed onto his mount, wincing as he settled his butt in the saddle. As he rode off, Jared headed for the barn, looking for the foreman. He found him in his office, placing an order for feed and grain.

When Lester hung up the phone, Jared asked, “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” Lester pointed at a green vinyl chair that sat across the desk from him. “Have a seat.”

Jared thought about shutting the door, but decided it was just the two of them. When he sat down, he tossed out the question that had been bothering him since the night before. “How do you think Granny is doing? I’m talking both physically and mentally.”

“All right, I suppose. But she’s getting older, and bodies naturally wear out. I guess you could say she’s slipping a bit.”

“In what way?”

Lester glanced at the open doorway, then back at Jared. “She’s been a little forgetful.”

“Give me an example.”

Lester lifted his battered Stetson, raked a hand through his thick, curly gray hair, then adjusted the hat back on his head. “Can’t say as I remember anything in particular.”

Maybe Doc had been mistaken.

“Then how do you know she’s ‘slipping’?” Jared asked.

“I just do. And it wouldn’t hurt none if you and your brothers started coming around to visit more often.”

“It might be best if I took her home to live with me.”

Lester’s eyes grew wide, and he slowly shook his head. “Nope. That won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t. That’s all.”

A lot of help he was. If Lester hadn’t always been a man of few words, Jared might have thought the aging ranch foreman was slipping, too. “Thanks. I’ll let you get back to work.”

A glimmer of relief seemed to cross Lester’s face, and Jared left him to it. Maybe it was time to go into the house and have a little chat with both the maid and the cook.

As Jared left the barn and headed toward the porch, he spotted Sabrina’s nephew playing with Sassy, one of two Australian shepherds that lived on the ranch.

With his mind on Granny and her well-being, Jared had no intention of stopping to talk, but the boy stood when he approached.

“Hey, mister. Can I ask you something?”

Jared’s steps slowed. “What’s that?”

“Are you a real cowboy?”

Jared had half a notion to tell him no and go about his business. There was no need to befriend a kid who wouldn’t be living on the ranch that much longer—especially if Granny sold out and moved in with Jared.

But he remembered his own first days on the Rocking C, his own wide-eyed interest in horses and cowboys and ranch life. In fact, the day Clem Bixby had taken him under wing had turned Jared’s life around and set the course of his future.

“I suppose you could call me a cowboy,” he admitted to the kid.

“And you used to live here, right?”

“Yep.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

“I own my own spread about a hundred miles north of here.” Jared wondered where the little guy was going with all the questions.

“Then I guess I’m allowed to talk to you all I want.”

“What do you mean?” Jared asked.

“Sabrina said I can’t bother the cowboys who live here because they’re working.”

So Jared was free game, huh?

The boy eased closer, his small hand lifted to shield the sun’s glare from his eyes. “Can I ask you something else?”

Again, Jared thought about making an excuse and leaving, but what would it hurt to stick around for a minute or so longer? “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Did you have to go to school to be a cowboy?”

A grin tugged at Jared’s lips. “Not the kind of school with desks and teachers and homework, if that’s what you mean. But I had a whole lot to learn, and it wasn’t easy.”

“Sabrina says I gotta go to college, but I didn’t even like first grade. And I don’t think second grade will be all that much fun, either.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jared hadn’t liked school, either. Not when he’d lived in Houston. It was a lot better when he attended Brighton Valley Elementary, he supposed, but he’d dreaded every minute he’d had to spend away from the ranch.

The boy clucked his tongue. “I’d rather stay here and watch the cowboys work all day long. Maybe, if I did that, they’d let me help round up cows and ride horses.”

“Cowboys don’t need a college degree,” Jared said, “although it might help some. But second grade is important. You sure don’t want to miss out on any of the basic lessons all cowboys ought to know.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Jared said, rubbing his chin and trying to recall some of the things Clem had told him. “Let’s say there’s an auction and you’re in need of a few good horses. They advertise those in the newspaper. If you couldn’t read, you’d miss out.”

“Maybe one of my cowboy friends could call me on the phone and tell me about it,” the boy countered.

Sharp kid. Jared tried not to grin. “Okay, let’s say they did. How are you going to know how much money you can afford to bid? You need to be able to add and subtract pretty well to balance your bank account.”

“I could hire someone like Sabrina. She’s really good at math and could do that stuff for me.”

“But then you’d have to trust someone else with your money. What if they ran off with everything you owned?”

“Sabrina wouldn’t.”

Jared hoped the kid was right.

But in Jared’s case, he’d learned that some women, like Jolene, couldn’t be trusted. And when they ran off, they took more than a man’s money.

They took his heart and his pride.

Jared fixed himself a glass of iced tea, then took a seat at the kitchen table and watched Connie dry the last of the lunch dishes.

“Have you seen my mother?” he asked the socalled cook.

“She took her mare out for an afternoon ride.” Connie turned away from a three-layer cake she was frosting—a chocolate masterpiece that rivaled any of those in a bakery display case and put this morning’s hotcakes to shame.

So what was the deal? She could make moist, chewy cookies and cakes, but couldn’t whip up a decent meal for breakfast?

Jared cleared his throat. “Well, then, I guess I’ll have to wait to talk to her until she gets back.”

Connie nodded, then returned to her work.

Jared carried his glass into the living room, where Tori the housekeeper was dusting the shelves in the handcrafted bookcase that Granny’s husband had built many years ago. Matt had parked his wheelchair near the big bay window that looked over the driveway. He was holding a Western Horseman magazine in his lap and gazing through the glass into the yard, yet by his expression, Jared suspected his thoughts were anywhere but in the here and now.

He did look up as Jared entered the room, though.

“Did you get that guy stitched up?” he asked.

“Yep. He’s back on the job.” Jared slid his thumbs into the front pocket of his jeans. “Have you had a chance to talk to Granny this morning?”

“Not really.” Matt glanced to the bookshelf, where Tori stood on a footstool, her back to them. “She was busy outside for a while. Then, just after lunch, she saddled Bluebonnet and took off.”

If Granny hadn’t given up her daily afternoon ride, then maybe she was doing okay after all.

“She should be back in an hour or so,” the redhead said, obviously listening.

Jared would have to choose his words carefully, although now might be a good time to quiz the maid and get a feel for the kind of person she was. So he made his way to the bookshelf. “Tori, you mentioned something about Granny’s medication earlier, and I’m curious. What was that all about?”

The attractive redhead, stopped her work and turned, a dust rag dangling from her hands. “Granny was complaining about having to wake up at all hours of the night to use the bathroom, so I asked her what meds she was taking. When she showed me the prescription bottles, I suggested she take the diuretic in the morning. She noticed a big difference.”

“What’s a diuretic?” he asked, wondering if Doc was the one who was slipping.

“Some people refer to it as a water pill. It helps rid the body of excess fluids and sodium, or rather, salt. She’s taking it along with a beta-blocker for hypertension.”

Tori seemed to have a better than average handle on Granny’s medication. And after seeing how she’d dealt with Earl, Jared suspected she’d definitely taken some kind of first-aid course. But now he was beginning to think she might have had more training than that. And if that were the case, then what was she doing working as a maid and not at a hospital or clinic?

“You seem to know a lot about medicine,” he said. “Where’d you pick up all that knowledge?”

She paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I read a lot.”

As she returned to her work, providing him a view of her back, he pondered her response. She’d evaded his question, which made him wonder why she was holding back—and what other secrets she might have.

Tori was a pretty gal, with big blue eyes, a scatter of freckles across her nose and long, curly red hair pulled back with a clip.

Jared slid a glance Matt’s way, only to find that his brother was watching Tori, as well. A hint of masculine interest in Matt’s eyes suggested he found her attractive, and that he had noticed the way her snug denim jeans did justice to a pair of long legs and a sexy rear.

That was a good sign, Jared decided. Tori was the first woman his brother had seemed to notice since the accident. Not that Jared would encourage anything. His brother wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship, although it was a relief to know he might seek happiness with someone new in the future.

Of course, whether he found it or not was another question.

As for Jared, himself, Jolene had done a real number on him, so he doubted if he’d ever trust another woman again.

And although Jared suspected Tori hadn’t been entirely honest with him about her medical background, when it came to stealing from Granny, that didn’t make her any more of a suspect than Sabrina.

Any of the employees, particularly those with free rein in the household, could have taken Granny’s money, yet the pretty, dark-haired bookkeeper was still the most logical.

Jared was open-minded, though. And if Sabrina hadn’t stolen the money, she was also the most likely to help him find the real culprit.

Leaving his brother and Tori in the living room, he headed back down the hall to the office, where Sabrina worked at the computer.

The prim brunette was so intent on what she was doing that she apparently hadn’t heard him walk up. So he watched her for a while, intrigued by the way she ran the tip of her tongue across her full bottom lip.

He decided not to interrupt her just yet, not while he was enjoying the view, but she glanced up and caught him looking at her.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

“Sure. Come on in.”

He took a seat across from her and decided to lay the problem on the line and gauge her reaction. “I heard that Grant Whitaker found some discrepancies in Granny’s account. There’s some money missing.”

“I’m aware of that.” Sabrina straightened and leaned back in the desk chair. “Mr. Whitaker mentioned it to me a couple of days ago, but when I asked your mother about having an ATM card or utilizing the online banking service, she didn’t have any idea what I was talking about.”

“Then someone unauthorized must have ATM access to her account.”

“You might be right, but your mother has been pretty forgetful lately. Just yesterday, I learned of an account she didn’t even remember opening.”

“How did you find out about it?”

“She received a letter from a savings and loan located in another town, telling her that the account would be frozen due to nonactivity.”

Jared leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “I thought you went through her files. Wasn’t there any record of statements being sent to her?”

“I might have missed it, but I don’t think so.” Sabrina pushed her chair from the desk and stood. In the course of her workday, a button on her blouse had become undone, and Jared couldn’t help noticing a flash of skin and the white lace trim of her bra.

“I asked the bank to trace those withdrawals,” she said. “I was told they were all made from an ATM card that your mother requested, a card someone activated through the main branch.”

The question was, who had done that?

Sabrina was supposedly checking in to it, but Jared thought it might be a better idea if he stopped by the main branch himself. One of the girls he’d gone to school with used to be married to the vice president of the bank. Hopefully, she still was, although he knew the stats on break ups these days better than anyone.

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