The Rancher Takes A Family
The Rancher Takes A Family
Judy Christenberry
Recently widowed rancher John Richey had sworn off women, but he'd do anything for his baby daughter–even remarry. After all, little Betsy was crying out for a mom, and he needed help. His foreman's niece seemed the perfect choice for a platonic wife. Until he met her…Debra Williams and her toddler son filled John's house with warmth, making it feel like a real home again. Debra thought a prime job awaited her out west, not a husband! But this big, blue-eyed ionest-to-God cowboy needed more than a wife in name only. John needed someone to melt his hard heart and show him the real joys of family….
Everything about her husband
had changed….
Debra tried telling herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care. She didn’t want him. But she did. In fact, she ached for him. Over time, she’d come to realize John tried to do what he thought was right. John Richey was a good man.
Every once in a while she would think about how wonderful it would be if they were truly married. Oh, she knew legally they were. But she dreamed of being John’s wife, of having the right to touch him when she wanted. And where she wanted.
This was one of those times, and, for the first time since she’d come to his Wyoming ranch, she reveled in her fantasies….
Dear Reader,
I love to write cowboy stories, and when my editor requested I write exactly that, it made me very happy. I think I love cowboys so much because my father and mother were country kids, and visits to my grandparents in the country were a regular occurrence when I was little. Then, in my early teens, I began reading Zane Grey because my mother had the complete set of his books at home. I found them fascinating. I actually began my writing career in the Regency period, writing historical romance, but when I turned to contemporary romances I found my true voice in westerns. I usually set them in Wyoming, which is a place I’ve visited many times. For those of you who haven’t been there, Wyoming is not as large as Texas, my home state, but it’s a lot less populated. This works well with Western stories, because in Wyoming you find people still depending on their neighbors for help.
I’ve always enjoyed marriage-of-convenience stories, too, and that’s why I’ve written this book, The Rancher Takes a Family. John doesn’t think he will ever find a woman to love again, so decides to embark on a simple marriage of convenience. But things don’t go to plan, and his new wife, Debra, soon has him reassessing their situation. As always, love finds a way, and these two discover that they can be a proper family.
I hope you enjoy John and Debra’s story, and if you haven’t read a Western before, I hope you’ll give me and my cowboys a chance. If you have any questions or comments, you can reach me at www.judychristenberry.com.
Happy reading!
Judy Christenberry
The Rancher Takes a Family
Judy Christenberry
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JUDY CHRISTENBERRY
has written over seventy books for Silhouette Books®, and she’s a favorite with readers. Now you can find more of Judy’s heartwarming and powerful stories in Harlequin Romance®.
Step into a world where family counts, men are true to their word—and where romance always wins the day!
OTHERS BOOKS BY JUDY CHRISTENBERRY
HER CHRISTMAS WEDDING WISH #3919
RANCHER AND PROTECTOR #3941
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u1560eb8a-e5bd-5335-8a29-110e2155bb2e)
CHAPTER TWO (#u409448f7-db78-5c6b-a126-d984a70c42f0)
CHAPTER THREE (#ue7bc9fe0-3ce2-5a5f-86df-1e85a0ec0c0a)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
“YOU know we’ve got to do something, don’t you, John?”
John Richey looked at his right-hand man, Bill Hobbs, and sighed. “I know we need to, Bill, but I’ve thought and thought, and I can’t come up with any answer except to just make the best of it.”
In spite of his worries he smiled at his baby daughter as he removed the empty bottle from her mouth. She gave him a contented grin worth more than anything money could buy.
Bill persisted. “Damn it, man, we’re risking a big loss with just you, me, Mikey and Jess working the ranch, especially since you and me are only working half days so we can take care of Sugar here.”
“I told you to call her Betsy. That’s her name, after all.”
“You’re not focusing, John. And I have a solution to our problem even if you don’t.”
John looked up in surprise. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion, but it was the first time Bill had said he had the answer. “What do you mean, you’ve got the solution? What is it?”
“You won’t like it.”
John’s eyebrows soared. “That’s positive.”
“Well, you won’t. But it’s the only way, and it would help someone else out and cure all your ills, too.”
“And you’ve been keeping this miracle to yourself until you thought I was really desperate? I’m beginning to smell a rat, here, Bill.”
“I’ll tell you what it is if you’ll promise to hear me out.”
“Okay, I promise.” He put Betsy on his shoulder and gently patted her back. Almost immediately, Betsy let out an unladylike burp.
“Good girl,” John said with a smile at his nine-month-old daughter.
As if he’d been waiting for that sign, Bill said, “Remember, you promised to hear me out.”
“I remember,” John said, but his stomach was beginning to churn. Something was bad about Bill’s idea.
“You get married again.”
John turned to stare at him. “You’re crazy, old man! That’s not going to happen!”
He stood, with Betsy in his arms, ready to leave the room, but Bill reminded him, “You promised.”
“What kind of job is it, Uncle Bill?” Debra Williams asked hesitantly after finally settling herself in his old truck. The day so far had been hectic, what with taking Andy on his first plane ride—hers, too, for that matter. Even now that they were on terra firma, the trip was still bumpy as the truck bounced along the rutted road to Westlake, Wyoming.
But a rough patch was the least of her worries. Her life had been difficult, but she was a survivor. Always had been. But she wanted more than survival; she wanted to start the life she’d put on hold.
Her dream of being a teacher had been delayed when she’d found herself pregnant in her senior year of high school. Then, when the baby’s father died before their son was born, she’d had to face the hard fact that she was the sole support for herself and Andy until he was grown.
For years she’d been doing the best she could, but life hadn’t been wonderful.
So when Uncle Bill had called and told her he had a great job for her where she could keep her little boy with her, she accepted his word impulsively.
After she’d picked up the plane tickets and got aboard the flight to Casper, she’d had time to think about what she’d done. She hadn’t seen her uncle Bill since she was about six. How much did he know about her life? She knew her mother got letters from him fairly regularly, but that was it, as far as she knew.
Her mother had pleaded for Debra not to take Andy and go. Debra had been surprised and gratified to know that her mother wanted her to stay but she didn’t allow such uncharacteristic behavior to influence her decision. Now, though, she needed reassurance that she’d made the right decision, that what she’d done would help her little boy.
She’d asked a couple of questions earlier, but Uncle Bill had refused to answer her while Andy was awake. Now the three-year-old had finally fallen asleep in his car seat, and she could no longer wait for information. “You know I’m not trained for too many jobs. I was going to go to night school this fall, but you said this was a great job.”
“It is, honey, and it will let you stay home with Andy. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“You know it is, Uncle Bill, but there aren’t many jobs that will allow that. What do I have to do?”
“Things you already know how to do. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of kids.”
“So it’s a housekeeping job?”
“Yeah, that’s what it is. The thing is, Deb, I can’t keep sending you money and—”
“Sending me money? What are you talking about?”
He turned to stare at her until she warned him about an oncoming car. Then he said, “I’ve been sending your mother money every month to help out. She promised me she was passing it on to you.”
Debra looked out the window, unable to face her uncle, knowing that her mother had betrayed her again. They had never had a good relationship. After her father’s death, when Debra was nine, her mother had become so self-centered, Debra had practically raised herself. But she hated to think that her mother had intentionally kept money intended to help her own daughter.
She scrambled for a response to her uncle. “I guess she forgot.”
Bill slammed the steering wheel. “Damn! I should’ve known. Eileen was always— Never mind. Things will be better now.”
“I hope so,” Debra said softly. “I’ll certainly work hard. And it will be so wonderful to have Andy with me all day.”
Her uncle’s revelation explained why her mother had suddenly pleaded with her not to go. Greed had motivated her sudden maternal concern.
As usual, nothing had changed. But knowing the truth destroyed any light of hope that she’d misjudged her mother.
She shook off any sadness, focusing instead on her new life.
“So I’m going to be a housekeeper. How many people are in the family? Are there children Andy can play with?”
“Um, it’s a widower and his little girl,” Bill mumbled.
“Is there something weird about the job, Uncle Bill?” Something in her uncle’s voice didn’t seem quite right. She should’ve known better. There were no fairy-tale happy endings in the world today. She looked back at her sleeping son. She would protect Andy—whatever it took.
“Now, Debbie, honey, I want you to remember I have your best interest at heart.”
Debra got a sick feeling in her stomach. She’d pinned her hopes on her uncle’s promises. Surely Uncle Bill wouldn’t let her down…Would he? She couldn’t go back to Kansas City, to living with her mother, to being the cook in a diner, getting up at four-thirty every morning, no matter how she felt. Then she would come home at two, clean house while Andy finished his nap, play with him, fix dinner and go to bed to get up and do it all over again. She was growing old at twenty-two.
What was her uncle’s problem? “I don’t mind working hard, Uncle Bill.”
“Good. ’Cause you’ll be working hard.” He smiled at her, and she relaxed a little. In his fifties now, her uncle was still a handsome man, tall and muscular, with not a strand of gray in his full head of brown hair. He looked exactly as she remembered him.
They had been passing through mile after mile of ranch land and now she saw a town up ahead. A few shops, a café, a small bank. “Is this Westlake, Uncle Bill?”
Without answering, her uncle pulled to a stop in front of the only other building easily identifiable—a church.
“Uh, Debbie, there’s something I haven’t told you about the job.”
John heard the rear door of the church opening. He glanced over his shoulder from the front pew where he sat holding Betsy and waiting. This was a day he’d remember forever. March second. His second wedding. Guaranteed to be a disaster.
He turned back when he realized Bill was arguing with his niece. Was she hoping for a better deal? After all, his first wife had taught him well. If this one didn’t want what he was offering, he’d manage without her.
In fact, this was a dumb idea all-around. He stood, prepared to walk out of the church. Only a crazy man would’ve given in to Bill’s plan. And he wasn’t crazy.
The only problem was, he’d have to go past Bill and his niece to get to his truck. And he didn’t want to do that.
Suddenly John realized the woman was holding her son. The boy was the only thing about this agreement he liked. Not that he’d ever trade Betsy. True, he’d originally hoped for a boy, but it had only taken a minute of staring down at his tiny baby daughter to win his heart. But he would enjoy having a boy around, too.
It wasn’t as if he would ever have a son of his own.
More noise echoed from the rear of the church. He looked over his shoulder again. Bill and his niece were walking to the front. Okay, so she’d finally agreed. Too late to escape now.
“Uh, John,” Bill said, sounding nervous, “this here is my niece, Debra Williams, and her boy, Andy.”
“Hello,” John said. He knew he should offer a smile, but he couldn’t. Like a mantra, one line kept repeating in his brain: This is crazy…. This is crazy….
As if on cue, a door in the back of the church opened and the gentle face of their pastor, Reverend Tony Jackson, appeared. He came down the aisle with the big smile of a clergyman who thought he was sending a new couple off to wedded bliss.
“Ah, here’s the happy couple. John, introduce me to your lovely bride.”
John cleared his throat. “Uh, Reverend Jackson, this is Debra Williams, Bill’s niece.” He wouldn’t exactly call the woman lovely. Especially with that frown. Bill must’ve just told her about all the work she’d have to do, John figured. Maybe they should halt the proceedings right here and make sure she was willing to do what was necessary.
The reverend shook her hand. “How nice to meet you. Now, if you two will face forward…” He frowned. “Uh, Bill, can you hold the two little ones?”
“Sure, Pastor, I’ll just sit here in the front row. After all, I’m the witness, too.” He took Betsy out of John’s arms and then took the little boy’s hand after his mother set him down on the floor.
John’s frown deepened. He hated this! After his last marriage, he’d vowed never to marry again. Never to give some woman power over him. And he wasn’t including that vulnerability as a part of this marriage. He’d told Bill that.
He finally forced himself to look his new wife in the face. She had brown hair, pale skin, vulnerable gray eyes…
No! He stopped himself with a sharp command. Her looks didn’t matter. He was hiring her! That was how he was going to get through this day, by pretending he was hiring her for a job. Not to be his wife.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” Reverend Jackson began.
John pressed his lips together, trying to ignore all the wrong things about that statement that seemed to burn a hole in his gut. He felt deceitful—not easy for a man who’d lived an honest life till now.
Before he knew it, the pastor had spoken those terrible words, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
John remembered what would naturally follow those words and he hurriedly said, “Uh, thanks, Reverend Jackson. We’ll definitely have you out for dinner after calving season.” Then he shoved a white envelope in the man’s hand and turned to Bill to get his little girl.
As he reached for Betsy, the shaggy-haired boy looked up at him. Shyly he asked, “Are you a cowboy?”
The question surprised him. He looked down at the blue suit he wore. He’d bought it three years ago when his father died. Not the best memory. He shut it down. “Yeah, I’m a cowboy.”
“Not now, Andy,” the woman whispered.
Turning to stare at her, John wondered what was so horrible that the little boy wanted to ask. He nodded at Bill. “You’ll get them back to the ranch? I’ll see you there.”
He ignored Bill’s protest as he walked out of the church, Betsy in his arms.
Debra watched the man walk away. He was a handsome man, in his late twenties, tall and muscular, with sea-blue eyes. The kind of man any young woman would dream of marrying. Unless she was wise enough to know that looks didn’t matter. Her own husband—her first husband, she reminded herself—had been handsome. But he hadn’t been much of a husband. Not that John Richey seemed so marriage-minded, either.
She whirled back around to glare at her uncle. “You told me he was happy with this arrangement. That he would be a father to Andy. That he appreciated what I was doing!” Those had been the assurances her uncle had given her in the foyer of the church. She knew her son needed a daddy, and it seemed she and John could help each other, as Bill had explained it.
“Now, Debbie, don’t get upset. Not in front of Andy,” Bill cautioned.
“You lied to me, Uncle Bill,” she said in a fierce whisper. “You lured me out here, where I have no way of getting back to Kansas City, and then you lied to me!”
“It’s not really like that, Debbie, I swear. He’s just angry at—at the idea of marrying again. After all, he’s a widower. He needs time, but he don’t have any ’cause it’s March and calving season is starting and we need someone to take care of Betsy and cook and clean for us. We’re out in the saddle almost fifteen hours a day. And that’s where you come in.”
Debra stared at her uncle as he drew a deep breath. “Then why didn’t he just hire me as his housekeeper?”
“’Cause he ain’t got no money, honey. He didn’t figure no one would work for him unless he could promise them something.”
“Uncle Bill, you conned me! If I could, I’d head home right now!”
“You’d take Andy back to that tiny apartment when you can go to a wonderful home? Where he can have a place to play and have you around all day? Come on, Debra! You’re a better mother than that. And think about that poor little baby girl, being raised by a couple of cowhands. We hardly know nothing about babies!”
“Oh, give it a rest, Uncle Bill. What’s done is done. Take me to my new home and outstanding future opportunity,” Debra said with a weary sigh.
Bill helped her and Andy back into his truck and continued on down the road, the small town long gone in the rearview mirror. “I really thought you and John could help each other out. He’s just so crazed about getting married, but he’ll settle down if you give him a little while.”
“What choice do I have?” she asked, not expecting an answer.
They rode in silence until Bill stopped the truck in front of a beautiful house. Debra stared at it in shock. Having been told that the man didn’t have money to pay a housekeeper, she’d expected a tiny log cabin she’d have to share with him and her uncle.
Instead, she was looking at a large, two-story farmhouse-style home with large windows and an inviting front porch. Shade trees along the property made it look welcoming and big enough to house a platoon of soldiers. This was to be her home?
Finally she turned to look at her uncle. “What— I expected— Is this a joke?”
“Only on John,” Bill said. When his niece continued to stare at him, he had to explain. “I think he married her too fast, without getting to know her.”
“How’d he meet his first wife?” Debra asked.
“At a rodeo in Cheyenne. His dad had just died. He was off balance, needing to be connected to someone. After they got married, she insisted on a new house, new car, jewelry, anything else she could think of. He was in love and he tried to give her everything he could. Especially when he found out she was pregnant.”
In a whisper, Debra muttered, “And then she died.”
“Not before she ran away with a man who promised to make her a star in Hollywood. She left her two-month-old baby behind without a thought.” Bill couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “We got in that evening to hear Betsy bawling. She was wet and hungry. We didn’t know what had happened. John almost went crazy until the state highway patrol called.”
Debra stared at him in horror.
“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “John just about went to pieces. He would have if it hadn’t been for Betsy. She needed him.”
“I see,” Debra said slowly. “John and I have more in common than I’d first thought.” Her husband of two months, who’d married her because she was pregnant, even though she was still in high school, gave up his marriage and his job before she got out of high school. His new job choice was drug dealing. He was dead within two weeks.
Bill put a callused hand on hers. “I know. Come on inside.”
Inside, the house lived up to its exterior beauty. Almost. Not that there was anything wrong with the inside that a little cleaning wouldn’t improve. Debra stared at the family room furnished with three leather couches in a U-shape around a massive stone fireplace. The area was larger than her mother’s entire apartment had been.
John came walking into the room from the hallway, holding a piece of paper out to her. “Here’s Betsy’s schedule. You may choose any of the upstairs bedrooms you want, but stay out of the one down here. It’s mine. Dinner should be sometime between seven and eight. There will be four of us at the table in addition to you and the children.” He pointed to the rear of the house. “The laundry room is in that direction. Anything you can do there will be appreciated.” His voice was calm but challenging, as if he thought she wouldn’t be able to do all he asked.
“John—” Bill began, but John didn’t wait.
“I’ll see you in the barn, Bill,” he said and walked out the door.
Debra waited until her uncle turned to look at her, a helpless expression on his face. “It’s all right, Uncle Bill. I told you I’d work hard. And I realize we’re both in a situation that we now can’t change.” She straightened her spine and looked around. “How big a ranch is this?”
“It’s not all that big. Fifteen thousand acres. That’s—” He hung his head, fingering the hat he held in his hands. Without looking up, he said, “We needed help. Debbie, I swear, if you’ll give him a little time—”
“He’s got all the time in the world until I can find a way to make enough money to get me and my son back home.”
Debra investigated the house and determined the two bedrooms she and Andy would take upstairs.
The third bedroom, next to hers, was occupied by a sleeping baby. Debra stood at the crib, looking down at Betsy. The blond-haired child was so sweet. Babies always were.
Debra smiled, remembering Andy’s younger years. Then she heard her son calling her and rushed out of the baby’s room to keep him from awakening Betsy.
“Do you like your room, Andy?” she asked.
“It’s big, Mommy. I think I’d rather stay with you.”
She put her arms around him. “You’ll be right next door to me, baby. And it means you can sleep later without me waking you up. You’ll get used to it, I promise.” She hugged him tighter. “How ’bout we go to the kitchen and see if we can find you a snack?”
Downstairs she discovered a beautiful kitchen, complete with all the latest appliances. Since she was a short-order cook, she appreciated the convenience of a large, modern kitchen. The one good thing she could say about the job at Joe’s Diner was that it had allowed her to spend the late afternoons and evenings with Andy. Of course, she’d had to go to bed when he did since she got up at four-thirty in the morning to go to work. Her entire paycheck went to her mother. Eileen demanded money for letting them live with her, money for taking care of Andy. Money for everything.
The only money Debra had secreted away was her share of the tip money that Joe, the owner, had given her at the end of each month. It hadn’t come to much, but it allowed her to buy Andy clothes and occasionally treat him to something special.
She should’ve saved it so she could get back to Kansas.
Then she stopped to consider her own words. Did she want to go back? Did she want that life? She shuddered. The answer was no. She probably wouldn’t be the man’s wife for long, but at least she would have some respite from having to abandon her son every morning. And God knew, she couldn’t go back to living with her mother, not knowing what she did now.
“Mommy?”
“Oh, yes, honey, I’m sorry. Let’s go find that snack.”
She’d assumed she’d find the cupboard bare if this man—her new husband—was so broke he couldn’t pay for anyone to help him. However, she found his penniless state didn’t apply to the kitchen. The refrigerator was stocked and a nearby freezer was full of frozen beef.
Checking the clock, she removed some meat for the evening dinner she was expected to prepare. Then she found some crackers and peanut butter for Andy.
“I like peanut butter,” he said, smiling for the first time since they’d gotten off the plane in Casper that morning.
“I know you do, sweetheart.”
“Eileen didn’t like to give me peanut butter,” Andy muttered. Her mother had insisted Andy call her by her first name so people wouldn’t realize she was a grandmother.
Debra leaned over to brush back a wisp of Andy’s hair. “I know, sweetie. That’s one good thing about living here. No Eileen.”
“Really?”
“Really, Andy. You get to stay home with me and your new sister, Betsy.”
He frowned. “But she’s a girl.”
She couldn’t stifle a laugh. “So am I, young man. You’ll grow to love Betsy. Her daddy says she’ll be up soon and then you’ll really get to meet her. You’ll see. It will be great.”
As Andy ate, Debra moved about the kitchen, locating equipment and ingredients, mentally inventorying the pantry, that was well organized. If John’s wife had done all this, she must have been a good cook.
In the monitor on the table Debra heard the sound of a baby stirring.
“Betsy’s awake,” she told Andy. “Wait here and I’ll go get her.”
When she entered the baby’s room, Betsy was standing in her bed, holding on to the rails, beginning to get unhappy. Debra crossed over to her and picked her up. “Hello, there, Betsy. I’m your new mommy. Let’s see. Ah, yes, you need a diaper change, don’t you?”
She laid the baby down in her crib and found a clean diaper in the holder at the end. “Your daddy has everything organized, doesn’t he? He must be a good daddy, Betsy.”
And that was the first thing she found to like about John Richey.
John rushed as he rubbed down his horse. “Sorry, Beauty, but I’m in a hurry,” he whispered.
“Did you say something, boss?” Mikey asked, peering around the dark horse John was working on.
“Uh, no, Mikey, nothing.” Mikey was young, but a hard worker.
“You sure the missus don’t mind us coming to the house for dinner tonight?” Jess, his other cowhand, asked.
John hurriedly looked away from Bill’s worried frown. “I’m sure. I told her we’d all four be there. But I don’t know what kind of cook she is, so blame Bill if it’s awful.” He figured even Jess wouldn’t have the nerve to question Bill. Both guys were just a little afraid of him.
“Can’t be worse than our cooking,” Jess grumbled.
“I’m sure Debra will have a good meal ready,” Bill said with bravado. “I mean, she used to be a cook. How bad can it be?”
“I’m hungry enough to eat a bear, so let’s just hurry,” Mikey said.
All four men walked to the house together. John was beginning to wish he hadn’t planned on all of them coming to the house to eat this evening. He was beginning to fear that the woman might have done nothing just to pay him back for his rudeness to her earlier. She could completely humiliate him.
Betsy.
He’d walked out on Betsy and left her with a stranger. That thought hadn’t struck him until just now.
How could he have done that? Betsy was the most important part of his life. And he’d trusted her to his new wife.
Speeding up, he reached the house before his men.
When he entered, he ignored the warm fire in the fireplace, the delicious aroma in the air, the place settings on the table. All he could think of was his child.
When Debra walked out of the kitchen, all he said was, “Where’s Betsy?”
CHAPTER TWO
“SHE’s already in bed. Is there a problem?”
Debra stared at John’s worried face. Had she done something wrong?
“I’ll go check on her,” he said.
She stepped in his way. “I thought maybe you’d all like to shower and change into clean clothes before dinner.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t we smell pretty enough for you?”
Her back stiffened, but her voice remained calm. “I was only thinking of your comfort.”
“Well, I might have clean clothes here, but the others don’t,” he snapped.
She already knew the answer to her question, but she let her eyes widen with innocence. “You mean all the laundry I did today was yours?”
He started to speak but promptly shut his mouth and stared at her. Finally he said, “You did all the laundry today?”
“Yes.” She walked into the mudroom where she heard the other cowboys and her uncle. She told the men, “I divided the clothes into stacks by size, since I didn’t know what belonged to each of you.” She gestured toward the shower stall. “I thought you might be more comfortable if you showered and dressed in clean clothes that you could put on again in the morning and work in. Does that seem like a good idea to you?” Without awaiting their answer, she continued. “And while you’re doing that, I’ll put dinner on the table.”
The men all nodded and immediately grabbed their clean clothes. Debra delicately withdrew and pulled the door behind her. Only John was on this side of the door.
He stood there against the wall, his arms crossed over his wide chest, his blue eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Very clever of you, getting them on your side.”
Swallowing a retort, she turned her back on him and walked into the kitchen.
Once there, she drew a deep breath. She’d worked hard all day, but it was work she loved. The best part was that she’d had Andy and Betsy for company. The entire day had been so much better than her life in Kansas that she’d decided the thing to do was to make the best of the situation and see where it led.
But John apparently wasn’t going to make it easy.
She began putting the meal on the table. The centerpiece was a giant roast beef she’d cooked until tender, flanked by bowls of gravy, homemade biscuits, whipped potatoes, broccoli and red beans.
Just as everything was in place, the door to the mudroom opened and four men emerged. She moved to the kitchen door and extended her hand to the two men she hadn’t formally met. They were both young, in their early twenties, but they looked strong. “Hello, I’m Debra. Welcome to my kitchen,” she said with a smile.
The men introduced themselves, but she could tell they were distracted by the large amounts of food ready for them. All she did was nod in the direction of the table and the four men took their seats and dug in, no doubt ravenous after their workday.
“Man, this is the best food I’ve ever eaten, Miz Richey.”
“Thank you, Mikey, but please, call me Debra.”
“I’ll call you anything you want for a meal like this,” the cowboy returned.
“Debra will be fine, Mikey,” she said through a smile.
“Thank you for the clean clothes, too,” Jess added between bites.
“My pleasure. If you’re in the saddle all day, I don’t see how you’ve managed to get anything else done. I’d be exhausted.”
“True,” Jess said as he buttered a biscuit. “And we’re mighty grateful to you.”
Those two were completely won over, Debra thought. Unfortunately, her husband wasn’t. She noted that John’s face was growing stormier every moment. He obviously hadn’t counted on her doing her job. He’d immediately gone up to check on Betsy before his shower. Did he think she hadn’t taken care of her? Who could resist such a sweet baby?
When the men had finished, Debra asked if they’d like a roast beef sandwich to take with them in the morning, since they didn’t come in for lunch. She immediately got a pleased reception to her idea.
John, however, said, “Maybe you don’t realize that you have to have breakfast ready at six.”
“I assumed you started to work early, John,” she said calmly.
“My idea of ‘early’ isn’t nine o’clock.”
She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “For the last three years I’ve been getting up at four-thirty for work, so six o’clock will be sleeping in for me.” Take that, cowboy! She punctuated her reply with a verbal punch but kept it to herself. This man certainly had a lot to learn if he thought she’d run screaming from hard work.
John was quiet as she cleared the table and put a homemade chocolate cake in the middle. “Would anyone care for dessert?” she asked, her voice as sweet as the frosting.
Not even John said no. He didn’t, however, join the men in their rousing praise for her good cooking.
When she began the cleanup, the men actually brought their dishes to the sink, a courtesy she hadn’t expected. She warmly thanked them and suggested they go to the family room and relax.
With the dishwasher, the cleanup only took a few minutes. She swept the floor and wiped down the counters, then performed a visual check to be sure the kitchen was immaculate before she went to the mudroom to launder their dirty clothes.
As she was loading the washing machine, she felt someone staring at her. Spinning around, she found John at the door.
“You don’t have to do that tonight. You’ve already worked hard enough.” He glanced away from her as he spoke.
“Actually, the machine does all the work…unless the noise will bother you.”
“No, but—” He kept his head down, as if the toes of his boots were worthy of intense study. “Listen, I was rude this morning. You did all the work anyway. I owe you an apology.”
So there was a human under all that bluster, she thought, barely suppressing a smile. Maybe Uncle Bill was right and John just needed some time to get used to the idea of marriage again. And, she had to admit, it felt good to be appreciated for what she’d done. No one had ever made her feel that way, especially her mother.
“I think Uncle Bill may have misled both of us,” she said. “But now you know I’m a hard worker, and I appreciate the benefits.”
Something she’d said upset him, she realized at once. His head shot up and his back stiffened. Before she could inquire, he turned back on those boot heels and walked away.
Debra stood there, laundry in hand. What had she said to chase away the new and improved John Richey? Whatever it was, it had cost her an opportunity to make peace with her new husband, and she regretted it. When, she wondered, would she get another chance?
John appreciated the well-cooked meal and the clean clothes, but that didn’t reconcile him to his second marriage. Especially since his new wife was counting on reaping the “benefits.” So she thought she could get a lot of nice things out of him like Elizabeth had? Well, she thought wrong.
Betsy seemed at peace, too. She was clean and sweet-smelling and sound asleep. Still, she’d wake up at four in the morning, as usual, and he’d feed her the 4:00 a.m. bottle, as usual. He loved feeling that warm little body in his arms, loved knowing she was totally dependent on him. It was Betsy who had pulled him out of his bout of bitterness and hate for Elizabeth.
It would always be Betsy who kept him on the straight and narrow, working to make his ranch successful. She deserved the best.
If they had a good crop of bull calves this season, he could escape some of the crippling debt Elizabeth had saddled him with. He’d been so in love with her he’d provided more than he should have, more than he could afford. But he’d wanted to make Elizabeth happy.
In return, she’d made him miserable and deeply in debt.
As he stared at the television in the family room with the others, he gritted his teeth. He was never going to let a woman do that to him again.
“John?”
His head snapped up. Debra was standing at the end of the couch, staring at him. “What?”
“May I speak to you for a moment?”
With the others, especially Bill, around him, he had no choice but to acquiesce.
Following Debra into the kitchen—a completely clean kitchen, he realized—he prepared himself for her demands. “What do you want?”
“I need a few things from the grocery store. Is there a car I can borrow, and do you have an account at the store or will you give me money?”
“I should’ve known. The kitchen is full of food! You haven’t been here twenty-four hours and already you’re demanding money!”
He expected her to try flirting to get her way, followed by crying. That was the pattern his first wife had used many times.
Instead, after staring at him for several seconds, she simply left the room.
After a moment, he followed her, sure she was going to plead her case with her uncle.
But when he entered the family room, there was no sign of her. “Did Debra come through here?” he asked.
Bill looked up in surprise. “She said good-night and went upstairs.”
John was stunned. Why hadn’t she pressed him? Come to think of it, Elizabeth had never asked for groceries. Her requests had always been personal. Was the kitchen missing some key ingredient Debra needed?
After pacing the room for several minutes, ignored by his men, he decided to go upstairs and find her. That was probably her plan, anyway.
The hallway was dark, but he saw a light shining under one door. That must be the bedroom she’d chosen for her own. He rapped on the door.
A soft voice answered, “Who is it?”
“It’s John.”
After a hesitation that irritated him, she opened the door about an inch. “I’m getting ready for bed, John. What do you want?”
“What did you want at the grocery store?”
She sighed. “I wanted to get some baby cereal and some chocolate chips for making cookies.”
“Baby cereal? Why do you want baby cereal?”
“I’m guessing Betsy is at least nine months old. She should be eating cereal in the morning and adding solid foods during her meals. It will mean she’ll sleep through the night.”
“She will? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Haven’t you taken her to the doctor for her checkups?”
“She went while Elizabeth— She went early on, but I didn’t see any need. She’s healthy!”
“Yes, I know. But he would’ve advised you about her feedings, if you had.”
“So you mean baby food? Those little bottles?”
“Well, I can make a few things. I wasn’t going to ask for too much at once. I wanted the chocolate chips to make cookies for Andy and to put in your lunches.”
John put up his hand to stop her. “The car’s in the garage. The key is on one of the hooks by the door. Sign the receipt at the general store and Charlie will put it on my account.” He turned away and walked down the hall to the stairs.
So she really wanted groceries…. She was probably starting out slowly, hoping to lull him into acceptance, said a warning voice inside his head. Not Elizabeth’s style, but you couldn’t trust a woman. Any woman.
No one was late for breakfast the next morning. Maybe they were encouraged by visions of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and hot biscuits with jam that she’d found in the pantry, along with hot coffee.
Debra had gotten up at five-fifteen so she’d been able to make their lunches, too. The bags were all ready, sitting on the kitchen cabinet for them when they finished their breakfast. Of course, since March in Wyoming was cold, their lunches wouldn’t be warm, but they would be filling. She was proud of the food she’d provided. She couldn’t imagine going all day, working as hard as these men did, without lunch.
“This is great, Debra,” Bill said with a big smile. “Especially the hot biscuits.”
“I’m glad you like everything, Uncle Bill.”
Jess and Mikey paused, then Mikey asked, “He really is your uncle?”
“Yes, of course,” Debra replied while her uncle protested. “Why wouldn’t you believe that I’m Bill’s niece?”
“Well,” Jess said with a wink, “’cause you’re lots prettier than him and you cook tons better.”
Everyone but John laughed.
“Thank you for the compliments, but everyone has talents in different areas. Otherwise, life would be very dull.”
As they filed out of the kitchen, Debra handed each of them his lunch. John was the last to leave and he didn’t even pause. “No, thank you.”
“You might as well take it since I’ve already made it for you.” She held out the bag.
He glowered and hesitated. She held her breath, hoping he’d take it. Somehow it seemed important to her, as if his taking the lunch would be an act of approval.
“I don’t have time for lunch,” he muttered, and walked out of the house.
Debra stood there, tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t expected her new life to be easy, had she? Of course not. The best thing she could do was her job. Keep the house clean, cook and take care of Betsy, as well as Andy.
And not expect anything else. Especially not a husband.
She put the load of clothes in the dryer and then went upstairs to wake Andy. “Honey, it’s time to get up and come eat breakfast.”
“I want to stay in bed,” Andy protested. “Eileen let me stay in bed as long as I wanted.”
Which explained why she’d always had trouble getting him to bed in the evenings, she thought. She’d always assumed her son required less sleep. But, as usual, her mother had chosen the easiest path.
“There’s no Eileen here, my dear. I’ll put your clothes out while you go wash your face. Get dressed and come to the kitchen. I’ll have breakfast ready.”
She gently propelled her son into the bathroom. After she laid out his clothes, she went into Betsy’s room. The baby was just stirring, stretching and yawning.
“Good morning, angel. Did you sleep well? First, I’ll change your diaper, then we’ll have breakfast. After that, you get a bath. If you’re not too modest, I’ll let Andy help. Then we’ll go grocery shopping. How does that sound?”
As if she approved, Betsy smiled at her. Her whole face lit up and her eyes gleamed. She had the same eyes as her father, sea-blue, only his never sparkled in a smile.
Debra shrugged her shoulders and changed Betsy’s diaper. Time to get things done, not think about John.
“How was Betsy this morning?” Bill asked John as they rode out a short time later.
John jerked back on his reins, startling his horse. Staring at Bill, he frantically searched his brain. “She—she didn’t wake me up! Damn, she’s probably sick or something. I’ve got to go back. I’ll catch up with you!” he called over his shoulder as he urged his horse back toward the barn. All the way, he was telling himself he was the worst daddy in the world to leave his child without being sure she was all right.
He rode right up to the back door of the house and tied his horse to the limb of a tree nearby.
Opening the back door, he ran into the kitchen where he heard voices. There he found his baby daughter sitting in a high chair, babbling away and banging her fist on the tray.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” Debra called over her shoulder. She set a plate of scrambled eggs on the table in front of Andy and gave Betsy a bottle.
Andy leaned forward and whispered something John couldn’t hear, but he gathered the little boy mentioned his presence because Debra’s gaze flew to him. “John? Is something wrong?”
As if hearing his name alerted Betsy, she began cooing and waving her arms. “I think your daughter is trying to say hello.”
John crossed to the high chair. “Hello, Betsy. Did you miss Daddy?” He picked her up and kissed her cheek.
“Um, she hasn’t had her bath yet, so she may not smell too good. I thought it best to bathe her after breakfast.”
“That’s fine. But she didn’t wake me up at 4:00 a.m. as usual. I was afraid something was wrong.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I told you. Solid food stays with the baby longer and helps her to sleep through the night.”
“That’s really all it took? I didn’t believe— What did you feed her?”
“Last night I fed her some whipped potatoes.”
“She might’ve choked on that!” John exclaimed.
“The spoonfuls were very small, John. I’ve fed a baby before.”
“Yeah, but—”
“If you want me to wait until I take her to the doctor, I will. It’s your choice.”
“No, I guess— When are you going to the grocery store?”
“After breakfast and Betsy’s bath. I didn’t think he’d open before eight o’clock.”
“Her baby seat is in the car. Make sure you strap her in.” He settled his daughter in her high chair again. “Be careful. Don’t drive too fast.”
“No, I won’t.”
He stared at her. “Am I acting like an idiot?”
“Just a little bit,” Debra said with a smile. His obvious love for his child was very attractive and made it easy to forgive his difficult behavior toward her.
“Fine. Just—just get her home safely.”
“I will, I promise.”
John remounted and joined his crew, but his worries continued to dominate his thoughts. It was the first time someone else had taken Betsy anywhere.
Debra was unusually nervous when she drove the Cadillac Escalade to Westlake’s general store. She’d never been in such an expensive vehicle. It seemed foolish to Debra to pay for such a costly truck just to be sure Betsy was safe.
It appeared the store owner agreed with her. “I couldn’t believe when John ordered this here car for his wife,” Charlie said. “Man, these things cost a fortune.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard. But I guess it’s water under the bridge.”
“I don’t know about that. He could sure sell it and pay off some debts.”
“Would he get a lot for it?”
“Sure. He’s hardly driven it since his wife died.”
“Maybe he’ll decide to do that. Thanks for your help with the groceries.”
“Glad to do it. You’ve got your hands full with two little ones. Did you get everything you need?”
“I think so. Whatever Mrs. Richey did, she certainly organized and stocked the kitchen well.”
“Shoot, that wasn’t Mrs. Richey. John had a housekeeper after he got married. Mrs. Richey insisted. But she left just before Mrs. Richey died. The lady of the house was unhappy with her work and fired her. Just as well. John couldn’t afford her salary with all the debt he’d incurred, anyway.”
“I hope she found another job.”
“Sure she did. A good cook can always find a job.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Thanks again for your help.”
Debra had a lot to think about as she drove home. Why hadn’t John sold the Escalade? His wife wasn’t here to use it. She certainly didn’t need it. She could drive John’s or Bill’s truck whenever she needed to go to town.
This trip to town was certainly productive, she thought as she eyed the big box in the back. John wouldn’t be upset that she’d bought Betsy a playpen, would he? After all, the baby could already pull herself up and would learn to walk if she had a safe place to try.
She could crawl around on the rug in the family room if someone was in there with her, but if Debra was to complete all her chores, she couldn’t watch the baby every minute. And Andy was too young for that responsibility. But he could watch Sesame Street and keep Betsy company if she was in the playpen.
As soon as they got home, Debra sat on the floor, with Betsy right beside her, and put together the playpen. Andy thought he was helping when he handed his mother the screws. It may have slowed down the process a little, but she believed in building a child’s self-esteem, even if it took a little lie now and then.
Soon she had Betsy in the new playpen and Andy on the sofa watching the television. She did chores until it was time to fix lunch, which reminded her that John hadn’t taken a sandwich like the other men. He would be starving. She planned her evening menu accordingly.
Both kids went down for a nap in the afternoon and she cleaned the big, beautiful house. Then she did some baking after they woke up. Andy loved baking cookies with her. Truth be told, she probably enjoyed it more than he did. Even Betsy was enthusiastic, joining in their laughter. While the cookies baked, Debra sat and spoke to the baby, helping her make sounds and try to make words.
The easiest one was Da-da. Debra wasn’t sure the baby knew she was naming her father, but she thought it would be fun for John. She could clearly remember the first time Andy called her Ma-ma.
Andy sat down for a cookie as soon as it cooled, the chocolate chips soft and gooey. She enjoyed a cookie, too, but more than that she relished this precious time with her son. If she’d been back in Kansas City, she’d just be getting home from the diner and no doubt be exhausted and looking forward to bed.
“Why can’t Betsy have a cookie, Mommy?” Andy asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Because chocolate isn’t good for babies, Andy. She’ll have to grow more teeth before she can eat chips, anyway.”
“But I like them!” Andy said.
“I know, honey. Betsy will, too, when she gets a little older. Oh, I need to feed the two of you so you can have your bath and go to bed before the men come in.”
“Why don’t I get to stay up and see the cowboys?”
“You will, honey, but right now they’re getting in late, too late for you to eat your dinner. After calving season, you’ll see a lot of them.”
“What’s calving season?”
“That’s when the mama cows have their babies.” When her son opened his mouth to ask more questions, she hurriedly said, “No, no more questions. I have too much to do right now.”
Once the children were in bed, she began preparing dinner, trying to fix dishes she thought John would like. Which was hard to do since she didn’t know any of his likes or dislikes.
Why did she keep thinking about the man?
He was driving her crazy.
She couldn’t possibly be attracted to him, could she? Well, she was sympathetic. She understood the anger he felt toward his first wife. She’d felt some anger toward her first husband, such as he was. But she wasn’t going to be hurt now. She was going to concentrate on her job and the children.
And one angry man.
CHAPTER THREE
“BETSY’s upstairs asleep, again?” John demanded fiercely when he came in for dinner that evening.
“Yes,” Debra said and followed him out of the kitchen. “John, I thought a regular schedule would be beneficial both for Andy and—”
“I’m not talking about Andy! I care about Betsy. I want to see her when I get home at night!”
Debra stopped short in the hall. “Well,” she said, her tone terse, “I guess that’s just another lie.” She turned back toward the kitchen.
“What are you talking about?”
“Uncle Bill said you’d be a daddy for Andy.”
Damn. Even he wouldn’t be mean to a kid. Didn’t she know that about him, at least? He was just in a snit—at Debra, mostly—and disappointed that even though the ranch work was getting done now, he was seeing less and less of his daughter. From the look on Debra’s face, he knew her feelings had gotten hurt. He knew he needed to apologize. Shoot, he was never any good at saying sorry. Often enough he’d had to eat crow when Elizabeth was upset—whether it was his fault or not. But it was not a skill he’d ever really acquired. He was about to give it a try when Debra shot him a narrowed glance as sharp as a new blade and walked away.
He’d apologize later. Seeing Betsy was important now.
Upstairs, John found his baby sleeping peacefully. He touched her downy hair and patted her back, but after several minutes, he realized she wasn’t going to awaken. Satisfying himself with a kiss on her cheek, he went back downstairs and showered. Everyone was already eating.
“Sorry, John,” Bill told him, a worried look on his face. “Debra told us to go ahead and eat.”
“No problem. I just wanted to check on Betsy.” The other two men welcomed him, but he noticed Debra said nothing as she passed the food to him. She’d get over her anger when he apologized later, not in front of the men, of course.
He waited until after they’d all finished eating, including the apple pie she put on the table. He’d never tasted better. But he thought his men had praised her enough.
Trying to wait out his men, he sat at the table, not moving as she stacked the dishes.
“Did you need something else, Mr. Richey?”
Her formality surprised him. “Why are you calling me that?”
“Is that not your name?” she asked coolly.
He ignored her question. “I was going to apologize—”
“Not necessary. You made everything clear.” She began loading the dishwasher.
Why did women make it so hard to say sorry? he thought to himself.
“Debra, stop! I want to apologize to you.”
“I’m sorry, but I have a lot of chores and I’m tired.”
“You’re not some damned Cinderella, Debra.”
“No, of course not. I’m your housekeeper.”
“You’re my wife!”
“You and I both know that isn’t true. If you’ll excuse me, I need to start a load of clothes.” She left the dishes and walked out of the room.
He followed her. “I’ll be able to hire a housekeeper in the fall.”
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Judy Christenberry
Recently widowed rancher John Richey had sworn off women, but he'd do anything for his baby daughter–even remarry. After all, little Betsy was crying out for a mom, and he needed help. His foreman's niece seemed the perfect choice for a platonic wife. Until he met her…Debra Williams and her toddler son filled John's house with warmth, making it feel like a real home again. Debra thought a prime job awaited her out west, not a husband! But this big, blue-eyed ionest-to-God cowboy needed more than a wife in name only. John needed someone to melt his hard heart and show him the real joys of family….
Everything about her husband
had changed….
Debra tried telling herself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t care. She didn’t want him. But she did. In fact, she ached for him. Over time, she’d come to realize John tried to do what he thought was right. John Richey was a good man.
Every once in a while she would think about how wonderful it would be if they were truly married. Oh, she knew legally they were. But she dreamed of being John’s wife, of having the right to touch him when she wanted. And where she wanted.
This was one of those times, and, for the first time since she’d come to his Wyoming ranch, she reveled in her fantasies….
Dear Reader,
I love to write cowboy stories, and when my editor requested I write exactly that, it made me very happy. I think I love cowboys so much because my father and mother were country kids, and visits to my grandparents in the country were a regular occurrence when I was little. Then, in my early teens, I began reading Zane Grey because my mother had the complete set of his books at home. I found them fascinating. I actually began my writing career in the Regency period, writing historical romance, but when I turned to contemporary romances I found my true voice in westerns. I usually set them in Wyoming, which is a place I’ve visited many times. For those of you who haven’t been there, Wyoming is not as large as Texas, my home state, but it’s a lot less populated. This works well with Western stories, because in Wyoming you find people still depending on their neighbors for help.
I’ve always enjoyed marriage-of-convenience stories, too, and that’s why I’ve written this book, The Rancher Takes a Family. John doesn’t think he will ever find a woman to love again, so decides to embark on a simple marriage of convenience. But things don’t go to plan, and his new wife, Debra, soon has him reassessing their situation. As always, love finds a way, and these two discover that they can be a proper family.
I hope you enjoy John and Debra’s story, and if you haven’t read a Western before, I hope you’ll give me and my cowboys a chance. If you have any questions or comments, you can reach me at www.judychristenberry.com.
Happy reading!
Judy Christenberry
The Rancher Takes a Family
Judy Christenberry
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JUDY CHRISTENBERRY
has written over seventy books for Silhouette Books®, and she’s a favorite with readers. Now you can find more of Judy’s heartwarming and powerful stories in Harlequin Romance®.
Step into a world where family counts, men are true to their word—and where romance always wins the day!
OTHERS BOOKS BY JUDY CHRISTENBERRY
HER CHRISTMAS WEDDING WISH #3919
RANCHER AND PROTECTOR #3941
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u1560eb8a-e5bd-5335-8a29-110e2155bb2e)
CHAPTER TWO (#u409448f7-db78-5c6b-a126-d984a70c42f0)
CHAPTER THREE (#ue7bc9fe0-3ce2-5a5f-86df-1e85a0ec0c0a)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
“YOU know we’ve got to do something, don’t you, John?”
John Richey looked at his right-hand man, Bill Hobbs, and sighed. “I know we need to, Bill, but I’ve thought and thought, and I can’t come up with any answer except to just make the best of it.”
In spite of his worries he smiled at his baby daughter as he removed the empty bottle from her mouth. She gave him a contented grin worth more than anything money could buy.
Bill persisted. “Damn it, man, we’re risking a big loss with just you, me, Mikey and Jess working the ranch, especially since you and me are only working half days so we can take care of Sugar here.”
“I told you to call her Betsy. That’s her name, after all.”
“You’re not focusing, John. And I have a solution to our problem even if you don’t.”
John looked up in surprise. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion, but it was the first time Bill had said he had the answer. “What do you mean, you’ve got the solution? What is it?”
“You won’t like it.”
John’s eyebrows soared. “That’s positive.”
“Well, you won’t. But it’s the only way, and it would help someone else out and cure all your ills, too.”
“And you’ve been keeping this miracle to yourself until you thought I was really desperate? I’m beginning to smell a rat, here, Bill.”
“I’ll tell you what it is if you’ll promise to hear me out.”
“Okay, I promise.” He put Betsy on his shoulder and gently patted her back. Almost immediately, Betsy let out an unladylike burp.
“Good girl,” John said with a smile at his nine-month-old daughter.
As if he’d been waiting for that sign, Bill said, “Remember, you promised to hear me out.”
“I remember,” John said, but his stomach was beginning to churn. Something was bad about Bill’s idea.
“You get married again.”
John turned to stare at him. “You’re crazy, old man! That’s not going to happen!”
He stood, with Betsy in his arms, ready to leave the room, but Bill reminded him, “You promised.”
“What kind of job is it, Uncle Bill?” Debra Williams asked hesitantly after finally settling herself in his old truck. The day so far had been hectic, what with taking Andy on his first plane ride—hers, too, for that matter. Even now that they were on terra firma, the trip was still bumpy as the truck bounced along the rutted road to Westlake, Wyoming.
But a rough patch was the least of her worries. Her life had been difficult, but she was a survivor. Always had been. But she wanted more than survival; she wanted to start the life she’d put on hold.
Her dream of being a teacher had been delayed when she’d found herself pregnant in her senior year of high school. Then, when the baby’s father died before their son was born, she’d had to face the hard fact that she was the sole support for herself and Andy until he was grown.
For years she’d been doing the best she could, but life hadn’t been wonderful.
So when Uncle Bill had called and told her he had a great job for her where she could keep her little boy with her, she accepted his word impulsively.
After she’d picked up the plane tickets and got aboard the flight to Casper, she’d had time to think about what she’d done. She hadn’t seen her uncle Bill since she was about six. How much did he know about her life? She knew her mother got letters from him fairly regularly, but that was it, as far as she knew.
Her mother had pleaded for Debra not to take Andy and go. Debra had been surprised and gratified to know that her mother wanted her to stay but she didn’t allow such uncharacteristic behavior to influence her decision. Now, though, she needed reassurance that she’d made the right decision, that what she’d done would help her little boy.
She’d asked a couple of questions earlier, but Uncle Bill had refused to answer her while Andy was awake. Now the three-year-old had finally fallen asleep in his car seat, and she could no longer wait for information. “You know I’m not trained for too many jobs. I was going to go to night school this fall, but you said this was a great job.”
“It is, honey, and it will let you stay home with Andy. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“You know it is, Uncle Bill, but there aren’t many jobs that will allow that. What do I have to do?”
“Things you already know how to do. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of kids.”
“So it’s a housekeeping job?”
“Yeah, that’s what it is. The thing is, Deb, I can’t keep sending you money and—”
“Sending me money? What are you talking about?”
He turned to stare at her until she warned him about an oncoming car. Then he said, “I’ve been sending your mother money every month to help out. She promised me she was passing it on to you.”
Debra looked out the window, unable to face her uncle, knowing that her mother had betrayed her again. They had never had a good relationship. After her father’s death, when Debra was nine, her mother had become so self-centered, Debra had practically raised herself. But she hated to think that her mother had intentionally kept money intended to help her own daughter.
She scrambled for a response to her uncle. “I guess she forgot.”
Bill slammed the steering wheel. “Damn! I should’ve known. Eileen was always— Never mind. Things will be better now.”
“I hope so,” Debra said softly. “I’ll certainly work hard. And it will be so wonderful to have Andy with me all day.”
Her uncle’s revelation explained why her mother had suddenly pleaded with her not to go. Greed had motivated her sudden maternal concern.
As usual, nothing had changed. But knowing the truth destroyed any light of hope that she’d misjudged her mother.
She shook off any sadness, focusing instead on her new life.
“So I’m going to be a housekeeper. How many people are in the family? Are there children Andy can play with?”
“Um, it’s a widower and his little girl,” Bill mumbled.
“Is there something weird about the job, Uncle Bill?” Something in her uncle’s voice didn’t seem quite right. She should’ve known better. There were no fairy-tale happy endings in the world today. She looked back at her sleeping son. She would protect Andy—whatever it took.
“Now, Debbie, honey, I want you to remember I have your best interest at heart.”
Debra got a sick feeling in her stomach. She’d pinned her hopes on her uncle’s promises. Surely Uncle Bill wouldn’t let her down…Would he? She couldn’t go back to Kansas City, to living with her mother, to being the cook in a diner, getting up at four-thirty every morning, no matter how she felt. Then she would come home at two, clean house while Andy finished his nap, play with him, fix dinner and go to bed to get up and do it all over again. She was growing old at twenty-two.
What was her uncle’s problem? “I don’t mind working hard, Uncle Bill.”
“Good. ’Cause you’ll be working hard.” He smiled at her, and she relaxed a little. In his fifties now, her uncle was still a handsome man, tall and muscular, with not a strand of gray in his full head of brown hair. He looked exactly as she remembered him.
They had been passing through mile after mile of ranch land and now she saw a town up ahead. A few shops, a café, a small bank. “Is this Westlake, Uncle Bill?”
Without answering, her uncle pulled to a stop in front of the only other building easily identifiable—a church.
“Uh, Debbie, there’s something I haven’t told you about the job.”
John heard the rear door of the church opening. He glanced over his shoulder from the front pew where he sat holding Betsy and waiting. This was a day he’d remember forever. March second. His second wedding. Guaranteed to be a disaster.
He turned back when he realized Bill was arguing with his niece. Was she hoping for a better deal? After all, his first wife had taught him well. If this one didn’t want what he was offering, he’d manage without her.
In fact, this was a dumb idea all-around. He stood, prepared to walk out of the church. Only a crazy man would’ve given in to Bill’s plan. And he wasn’t crazy.
The only problem was, he’d have to go past Bill and his niece to get to his truck. And he didn’t want to do that.
Suddenly John realized the woman was holding her son. The boy was the only thing about this agreement he liked. Not that he’d ever trade Betsy. True, he’d originally hoped for a boy, but it had only taken a minute of staring down at his tiny baby daughter to win his heart. But he would enjoy having a boy around, too.
It wasn’t as if he would ever have a son of his own.
More noise echoed from the rear of the church. He looked over his shoulder again. Bill and his niece were walking to the front. Okay, so she’d finally agreed. Too late to escape now.
“Uh, John,” Bill said, sounding nervous, “this here is my niece, Debra Williams, and her boy, Andy.”
“Hello,” John said. He knew he should offer a smile, but he couldn’t. Like a mantra, one line kept repeating in his brain: This is crazy…. This is crazy….
As if on cue, a door in the back of the church opened and the gentle face of their pastor, Reverend Tony Jackson, appeared. He came down the aisle with the big smile of a clergyman who thought he was sending a new couple off to wedded bliss.
“Ah, here’s the happy couple. John, introduce me to your lovely bride.”
John cleared his throat. “Uh, Reverend Jackson, this is Debra Williams, Bill’s niece.” He wouldn’t exactly call the woman lovely. Especially with that frown. Bill must’ve just told her about all the work she’d have to do, John figured. Maybe they should halt the proceedings right here and make sure she was willing to do what was necessary.
The reverend shook her hand. “How nice to meet you. Now, if you two will face forward…” He frowned. “Uh, Bill, can you hold the two little ones?”
“Sure, Pastor, I’ll just sit here in the front row. After all, I’m the witness, too.” He took Betsy out of John’s arms and then took the little boy’s hand after his mother set him down on the floor.
John’s frown deepened. He hated this! After his last marriage, he’d vowed never to marry again. Never to give some woman power over him. And he wasn’t including that vulnerability as a part of this marriage. He’d told Bill that.
He finally forced himself to look his new wife in the face. She had brown hair, pale skin, vulnerable gray eyes…
No! He stopped himself with a sharp command. Her looks didn’t matter. He was hiring her! That was how he was going to get through this day, by pretending he was hiring her for a job. Not to be his wife.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” Reverend Jackson began.
John pressed his lips together, trying to ignore all the wrong things about that statement that seemed to burn a hole in his gut. He felt deceitful—not easy for a man who’d lived an honest life till now.
Before he knew it, the pastor had spoken those terrible words, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
John remembered what would naturally follow those words and he hurriedly said, “Uh, thanks, Reverend Jackson. We’ll definitely have you out for dinner after calving season.” Then he shoved a white envelope in the man’s hand and turned to Bill to get his little girl.
As he reached for Betsy, the shaggy-haired boy looked up at him. Shyly he asked, “Are you a cowboy?”
The question surprised him. He looked down at the blue suit he wore. He’d bought it three years ago when his father died. Not the best memory. He shut it down. “Yeah, I’m a cowboy.”
“Not now, Andy,” the woman whispered.
Turning to stare at her, John wondered what was so horrible that the little boy wanted to ask. He nodded at Bill. “You’ll get them back to the ranch? I’ll see you there.”
He ignored Bill’s protest as he walked out of the church, Betsy in his arms.
Debra watched the man walk away. He was a handsome man, in his late twenties, tall and muscular, with sea-blue eyes. The kind of man any young woman would dream of marrying. Unless she was wise enough to know that looks didn’t matter. Her own husband—her first husband, she reminded herself—had been handsome. But he hadn’t been much of a husband. Not that John Richey seemed so marriage-minded, either.
She whirled back around to glare at her uncle. “You told me he was happy with this arrangement. That he would be a father to Andy. That he appreciated what I was doing!” Those had been the assurances her uncle had given her in the foyer of the church. She knew her son needed a daddy, and it seemed she and John could help each other, as Bill had explained it.
“Now, Debbie, don’t get upset. Not in front of Andy,” Bill cautioned.
“You lied to me, Uncle Bill,” she said in a fierce whisper. “You lured me out here, where I have no way of getting back to Kansas City, and then you lied to me!”
“It’s not really like that, Debbie, I swear. He’s just angry at—at the idea of marrying again. After all, he’s a widower. He needs time, but he don’t have any ’cause it’s March and calving season is starting and we need someone to take care of Betsy and cook and clean for us. We’re out in the saddle almost fifteen hours a day. And that’s where you come in.”
Debra stared at her uncle as he drew a deep breath. “Then why didn’t he just hire me as his housekeeper?”
“’Cause he ain’t got no money, honey. He didn’t figure no one would work for him unless he could promise them something.”
“Uncle Bill, you conned me! If I could, I’d head home right now!”
“You’d take Andy back to that tiny apartment when you can go to a wonderful home? Where he can have a place to play and have you around all day? Come on, Debra! You’re a better mother than that. And think about that poor little baby girl, being raised by a couple of cowhands. We hardly know nothing about babies!”
“Oh, give it a rest, Uncle Bill. What’s done is done. Take me to my new home and outstanding future opportunity,” Debra said with a weary sigh.
Bill helped her and Andy back into his truck and continued on down the road, the small town long gone in the rearview mirror. “I really thought you and John could help each other out. He’s just so crazed about getting married, but he’ll settle down if you give him a little while.”
“What choice do I have?” she asked, not expecting an answer.
They rode in silence until Bill stopped the truck in front of a beautiful house. Debra stared at it in shock. Having been told that the man didn’t have money to pay a housekeeper, she’d expected a tiny log cabin she’d have to share with him and her uncle.
Instead, she was looking at a large, two-story farmhouse-style home with large windows and an inviting front porch. Shade trees along the property made it look welcoming and big enough to house a platoon of soldiers. This was to be her home?
Finally she turned to look at her uncle. “What— I expected— Is this a joke?”
“Only on John,” Bill said. When his niece continued to stare at him, he had to explain. “I think he married her too fast, without getting to know her.”
“How’d he meet his first wife?” Debra asked.
“At a rodeo in Cheyenne. His dad had just died. He was off balance, needing to be connected to someone. After they got married, she insisted on a new house, new car, jewelry, anything else she could think of. He was in love and he tried to give her everything he could. Especially when he found out she was pregnant.”
In a whisper, Debra muttered, “And then she died.”
“Not before she ran away with a man who promised to make her a star in Hollywood. She left her two-month-old baby behind without a thought.” Bill couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “We got in that evening to hear Betsy bawling. She was wet and hungry. We didn’t know what had happened. John almost went crazy until the state highway patrol called.”
Debra stared at him in horror.
“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “John just about went to pieces. He would have if it hadn’t been for Betsy. She needed him.”
“I see,” Debra said slowly. “John and I have more in common than I’d first thought.” Her husband of two months, who’d married her because she was pregnant, even though she was still in high school, gave up his marriage and his job before she got out of high school. His new job choice was drug dealing. He was dead within two weeks.
Bill put a callused hand on hers. “I know. Come on inside.”
Inside, the house lived up to its exterior beauty. Almost. Not that there was anything wrong with the inside that a little cleaning wouldn’t improve. Debra stared at the family room furnished with three leather couches in a U-shape around a massive stone fireplace. The area was larger than her mother’s entire apartment had been.
John came walking into the room from the hallway, holding a piece of paper out to her. “Here’s Betsy’s schedule. You may choose any of the upstairs bedrooms you want, but stay out of the one down here. It’s mine. Dinner should be sometime between seven and eight. There will be four of us at the table in addition to you and the children.” He pointed to the rear of the house. “The laundry room is in that direction. Anything you can do there will be appreciated.” His voice was calm but challenging, as if he thought she wouldn’t be able to do all he asked.
“John—” Bill began, but John didn’t wait.
“I’ll see you in the barn, Bill,” he said and walked out the door.
Debra waited until her uncle turned to look at her, a helpless expression on his face. “It’s all right, Uncle Bill. I told you I’d work hard. And I realize we’re both in a situation that we now can’t change.” She straightened her spine and looked around. “How big a ranch is this?”
“It’s not all that big. Fifteen thousand acres. That’s—” He hung his head, fingering the hat he held in his hands. Without looking up, he said, “We needed help. Debbie, I swear, if you’ll give him a little time—”
“He’s got all the time in the world until I can find a way to make enough money to get me and my son back home.”
Debra investigated the house and determined the two bedrooms she and Andy would take upstairs.
The third bedroom, next to hers, was occupied by a sleeping baby. Debra stood at the crib, looking down at Betsy. The blond-haired child was so sweet. Babies always were.
Debra smiled, remembering Andy’s younger years. Then she heard her son calling her and rushed out of the baby’s room to keep him from awakening Betsy.
“Do you like your room, Andy?” she asked.
“It’s big, Mommy. I think I’d rather stay with you.”
She put her arms around him. “You’ll be right next door to me, baby. And it means you can sleep later without me waking you up. You’ll get used to it, I promise.” She hugged him tighter. “How ’bout we go to the kitchen and see if we can find you a snack?”
Downstairs she discovered a beautiful kitchen, complete with all the latest appliances. Since she was a short-order cook, she appreciated the convenience of a large, modern kitchen. The one good thing she could say about the job at Joe’s Diner was that it had allowed her to spend the late afternoons and evenings with Andy. Of course, she’d had to go to bed when he did since she got up at four-thirty in the morning to go to work. Her entire paycheck went to her mother. Eileen demanded money for letting them live with her, money for taking care of Andy. Money for everything.
The only money Debra had secreted away was her share of the tip money that Joe, the owner, had given her at the end of each month. It hadn’t come to much, but it allowed her to buy Andy clothes and occasionally treat him to something special.
She should’ve saved it so she could get back to Kansas.
Then she stopped to consider her own words. Did she want to go back? Did she want that life? She shuddered. The answer was no. She probably wouldn’t be the man’s wife for long, but at least she would have some respite from having to abandon her son every morning. And God knew, she couldn’t go back to living with her mother, not knowing what she did now.
“Mommy?”
“Oh, yes, honey, I’m sorry. Let’s go find that snack.”
She’d assumed she’d find the cupboard bare if this man—her new husband—was so broke he couldn’t pay for anyone to help him. However, she found his penniless state didn’t apply to the kitchen. The refrigerator was stocked and a nearby freezer was full of frozen beef.
Checking the clock, she removed some meat for the evening dinner she was expected to prepare. Then she found some crackers and peanut butter for Andy.
“I like peanut butter,” he said, smiling for the first time since they’d gotten off the plane in Casper that morning.
“I know you do, sweetheart.”
“Eileen didn’t like to give me peanut butter,” Andy muttered. Her mother had insisted Andy call her by her first name so people wouldn’t realize she was a grandmother.
Debra leaned over to brush back a wisp of Andy’s hair. “I know, sweetie. That’s one good thing about living here. No Eileen.”
“Really?”
“Really, Andy. You get to stay home with me and your new sister, Betsy.”
He frowned. “But she’s a girl.”
She couldn’t stifle a laugh. “So am I, young man. You’ll grow to love Betsy. Her daddy says she’ll be up soon and then you’ll really get to meet her. You’ll see. It will be great.”
As Andy ate, Debra moved about the kitchen, locating equipment and ingredients, mentally inventorying the pantry, that was well organized. If John’s wife had done all this, she must have been a good cook.
In the monitor on the table Debra heard the sound of a baby stirring.
“Betsy’s awake,” she told Andy. “Wait here and I’ll go get her.”
When she entered the baby’s room, Betsy was standing in her bed, holding on to the rails, beginning to get unhappy. Debra crossed over to her and picked her up. “Hello, there, Betsy. I’m your new mommy. Let’s see. Ah, yes, you need a diaper change, don’t you?”
She laid the baby down in her crib and found a clean diaper in the holder at the end. “Your daddy has everything organized, doesn’t he? He must be a good daddy, Betsy.”
And that was the first thing she found to like about John Richey.
John rushed as he rubbed down his horse. “Sorry, Beauty, but I’m in a hurry,” he whispered.
“Did you say something, boss?” Mikey asked, peering around the dark horse John was working on.
“Uh, no, Mikey, nothing.” Mikey was young, but a hard worker.
“You sure the missus don’t mind us coming to the house for dinner tonight?” Jess, his other cowhand, asked.
John hurriedly looked away from Bill’s worried frown. “I’m sure. I told her we’d all four be there. But I don’t know what kind of cook she is, so blame Bill if it’s awful.” He figured even Jess wouldn’t have the nerve to question Bill. Both guys were just a little afraid of him.
“Can’t be worse than our cooking,” Jess grumbled.
“I’m sure Debra will have a good meal ready,” Bill said with bravado. “I mean, she used to be a cook. How bad can it be?”
“I’m hungry enough to eat a bear, so let’s just hurry,” Mikey said.
All four men walked to the house together. John was beginning to wish he hadn’t planned on all of them coming to the house to eat this evening. He was beginning to fear that the woman might have done nothing just to pay him back for his rudeness to her earlier. She could completely humiliate him.
Betsy.
He’d walked out on Betsy and left her with a stranger. That thought hadn’t struck him until just now.
How could he have done that? Betsy was the most important part of his life. And he’d trusted her to his new wife.
Speeding up, he reached the house before his men.
When he entered, he ignored the warm fire in the fireplace, the delicious aroma in the air, the place settings on the table. All he could think of was his child.
When Debra walked out of the kitchen, all he said was, “Where’s Betsy?”
CHAPTER TWO
“SHE’s already in bed. Is there a problem?”
Debra stared at John’s worried face. Had she done something wrong?
“I’ll go check on her,” he said.
She stepped in his way. “I thought maybe you’d all like to shower and change into clean clothes before dinner.”
“What’s wrong? Don’t we smell pretty enough for you?”
Her back stiffened, but her voice remained calm. “I was only thinking of your comfort.”
“Well, I might have clean clothes here, but the others don’t,” he snapped.
She already knew the answer to her question, but she let her eyes widen with innocence. “You mean all the laundry I did today was yours?”
He started to speak but promptly shut his mouth and stared at her. Finally he said, “You did all the laundry today?”
“Yes.” She walked into the mudroom where she heard the other cowboys and her uncle. She told the men, “I divided the clothes into stacks by size, since I didn’t know what belonged to each of you.” She gestured toward the shower stall. “I thought you might be more comfortable if you showered and dressed in clean clothes that you could put on again in the morning and work in. Does that seem like a good idea to you?” Without awaiting their answer, she continued. “And while you’re doing that, I’ll put dinner on the table.”
The men all nodded and immediately grabbed their clean clothes. Debra delicately withdrew and pulled the door behind her. Only John was on this side of the door.
He stood there against the wall, his arms crossed over his wide chest, his blue eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Very clever of you, getting them on your side.”
Swallowing a retort, she turned her back on him and walked into the kitchen.
Once there, she drew a deep breath. She’d worked hard all day, but it was work she loved. The best part was that she’d had Andy and Betsy for company. The entire day had been so much better than her life in Kansas that she’d decided the thing to do was to make the best of the situation and see where it led.
But John apparently wasn’t going to make it easy.
She began putting the meal on the table. The centerpiece was a giant roast beef she’d cooked until tender, flanked by bowls of gravy, homemade biscuits, whipped potatoes, broccoli and red beans.
Just as everything was in place, the door to the mudroom opened and four men emerged. She moved to the kitchen door and extended her hand to the two men she hadn’t formally met. They were both young, in their early twenties, but they looked strong. “Hello, I’m Debra. Welcome to my kitchen,” she said with a smile.
The men introduced themselves, but she could tell they were distracted by the large amounts of food ready for them. All she did was nod in the direction of the table and the four men took their seats and dug in, no doubt ravenous after their workday.
“Man, this is the best food I’ve ever eaten, Miz Richey.”
“Thank you, Mikey, but please, call me Debra.”
“I’ll call you anything you want for a meal like this,” the cowboy returned.
“Debra will be fine, Mikey,” she said through a smile.
“Thank you for the clean clothes, too,” Jess added between bites.
“My pleasure. If you’re in the saddle all day, I don’t see how you’ve managed to get anything else done. I’d be exhausted.”
“True,” Jess said as he buttered a biscuit. “And we’re mighty grateful to you.”
Those two were completely won over, Debra thought. Unfortunately, her husband wasn’t. She noted that John’s face was growing stormier every moment. He obviously hadn’t counted on her doing her job. He’d immediately gone up to check on Betsy before his shower. Did he think she hadn’t taken care of her? Who could resist such a sweet baby?
When the men had finished, Debra asked if they’d like a roast beef sandwich to take with them in the morning, since they didn’t come in for lunch. She immediately got a pleased reception to her idea.
John, however, said, “Maybe you don’t realize that you have to have breakfast ready at six.”
“I assumed you started to work early, John,” she said calmly.
“My idea of ‘early’ isn’t nine o’clock.”
She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “For the last three years I’ve been getting up at four-thirty for work, so six o’clock will be sleeping in for me.” Take that, cowboy! She punctuated her reply with a verbal punch but kept it to herself. This man certainly had a lot to learn if he thought she’d run screaming from hard work.
John was quiet as she cleared the table and put a homemade chocolate cake in the middle. “Would anyone care for dessert?” she asked, her voice as sweet as the frosting.
Not even John said no. He didn’t, however, join the men in their rousing praise for her good cooking.
When she began the cleanup, the men actually brought their dishes to the sink, a courtesy she hadn’t expected. She warmly thanked them and suggested they go to the family room and relax.
With the dishwasher, the cleanup only took a few minutes. She swept the floor and wiped down the counters, then performed a visual check to be sure the kitchen was immaculate before she went to the mudroom to launder their dirty clothes.
As she was loading the washing machine, she felt someone staring at her. Spinning around, she found John at the door.
“You don’t have to do that tonight. You’ve already worked hard enough.” He glanced away from her as he spoke.
“Actually, the machine does all the work…unless the noise will bother you.”
“No, but—” He kept his head down, as if the toes of his boots were worthy of intense study. “Listen, I was rude this morning. You did all the work anyway. I owe you an apology.”
So there was a human under all that bluster, she thought, barely suppressing a smile. Maybe Uncle Bill was right and John just needed some time to get used to the idea of marriage again. And, she had to admit, it felt good to be appreciated for what she’d done. No one had ever made her feel that way, especially her mother.
“I think Uncle Bill may have misled both of us,” she said. “But now you know I’m a hard worker, and I appreciate the benefits.”
Something she’d said upset him, she realized at once. His head shot up and his back stiffened. Before she could inquire, he turned back on those boot heels and walked away.
Debra stood there, laundry in hand. What had she said to chase away the new and improved John Richey? Whatever it was, it had cost her an opportunity to make peace with her new husband, and she regretted it. When, she wondered, would she get another chance?
John appreciated the well-cooked meal and the clean clothes, but that didn’t reconcile him to his second marriage. Especially since his new wife was counting on reaping the “benefits.” So she thought she could get a lot of nice things out of him like Elizabeth had? Well, she thought wrong.
Betsy seemed at peace, too. She was clean and sweet-smelling and sound asleep. Still, she’d wake up at four in the morning, as usual, and he’d feed her the 4:00 a.m. bottle, as usual. He loved feeling that warm little body in his arms, loved knowing she was totally dependent on him. It was Betsy who had pulled him out of his bout of bitterness and hate for Elizabeth.
It would always be Betsy who kept him on the straight and narrow, working to make his ranch successful. She deserved the best.
If they had a good crop of bull calves this season, he could escape some of the crippling debt Elizabeth had saddled him with. He’d been so in love with her he’d provided more than he should have, more than he could afford. But he’d wanted to make Elizabeth happy.
In return, she’d made him miserable and deeply in debt.
As he stared at the television in the family room with the others, he gritted his teeth. He was never going to let a woman do that to him again.
“John?”
His head snapped up. Debra was standing at the end of the couch, staring at him. “What?”
“May I speak to you for a moment?”
With the others, especially Bill, around him, he had no choice but to acquiesce.
Following Debra into the kitchen—a completely clean kitchen, he realized—he prepared himself for her demands. “What do you want?”
“I need a few things from the grocery store. Is there a car I can borrow, and do you have an account at the store or will you give me money?”
“I should’ve known. The kitchen is full of food! You haven’t been here twenty-four hours and already you’re demanding money!”
He expected her to try flirting to get her way, followed by crying. That was the pattern his first wife had used many times.
Instead, after staring at him for several seconds, she simply left the room.
After a moment, he followed her, sure she was going to plead her case with her uncle.
But when he entered the family room, there was no sign of her. “Did Debra come through here?” he asked.
Bill looked up in surprise. “She said good-night and went upstairs.”
John was stunned. Why hadn’t she pressed him? Come to think of it, Elizabeth had never asked for groceries. Her requests had always been personal. Was the kitchen missing some key ingredient Debra needed?
After pacing the room for several minutes, ignored by his men, he decided to go upstairs and find her. That was probably her plan, anyway.
The hallway was dark, but he saw a light shining under one door. That must be the bedroom she’d chosen for her own. He rapped on the door.
A soft voice answered, “Who is it?”
“It’s John.”
After a hesitation that irritated him, she opened the door about an inch. “I’m getting ready for bed, John. What do you want?”
“What did you want at the grocery store?”
She sighed. “I wanted to get some baby cereal and some chocolate chips for making cookies.”
“Baby cereal? Why do you want baby cereal?”
“I’m guessing Betsy is at least nine months old. She should be eating cereal in the morning and adding solid foods during her meals. It will mean she’ll sleep through the night.”
“She will? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Haven’t you taken her to the doctor for her checkups?”
“She went while Elizabeth— She went early on, but I didn’t see any need. She’s healthy!”
“Yes, I know. But he would’ve advised you about her feedings, if you had.”
“So you mean baby food? Those little bottles?”
“Well, I can make a few things. I wasn’t going to ask for too much at once. I wanted the chocolate chips to make cookies for Andy and to put in your lunches.”
John put up his hand to stop her. “The car’s in the garage. The key is on one of the hooks by the door. Sign the receipt at the general store and Charlie will put it on my account.” He turned away and walked down the hall to the stairs.
So she really wanted groceries…. She was probably starting out slowly, hoping to lull him into acceptance, said a warning voice inside his head. Not Elizabeth’s style, but you couldn’t trust a woman. Any woman.
No one was late for breakfast the next morning. Maybe they were encouraged by visions of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and hot biscuits with jam that she’d found in the pantry, along with hot coffee.
Debra had gotten up at five-fifteen so she’d been able to make their lunches, too. The bags were all ready, sitting on the kitchen cabinet for them when they finished their breakfast. Of course, since March in Wyoming was cold, their lunches wouldn’t be warm, but they would be filling. She was proud of the food she’d provided. She couldn’t imagine going all day, working as hard as these men did, without lunch.
“This is great, Debra,” Bill said with a big smile. “Especially the hot biscuits.”
“I’m glad you like everything, Uncle Bill.”
Jess and Mikey paused, then Mikey asked, “He really is your uncle?”
“Yes, of course,” Debra replied while her uncle protested. “Why wouldn’t you believe that I’m Bill’s niece?”
“Well,” Jess said with a wink, “’cause you’re lots prettier than him and you cook tons better.”
Everyone but John laughed.
“Thank you for the compliments, but everyone has talents in different areas. Otherwise, life would be very dull.”
As they filed out of the kitchen, Debra handed each of them his lunch. John was the last to leave and he didn’t even pause. “No, thank you.”
“You might as well take it since I’ve already made it for you.” She held out the bag.
He glowered and hesitated. She held her breath, hoping he’d take it. Somehow it seemed important to her, as if his taking the lunch would be an act of approval.
“I don’t have time for lunch,” he muttered, and walked out of the house.
Debra stood there, tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t expected her new life to be easy, had she? Of course not. The best thing she could do was her job. Keep the house clean, cook and take care of Betsy, as well as Andy.
And not expect anything else. Especially not a husband.
She put the load of clothes in the dryer and then went upstairs to wake Andy. “Honey, it’s time to get up and come eat breakfast.”
“I want to stay in bed,” Andy protested. “Eileen let me stay in bed as long as I wanted.”
Which explained why she’d always had trouble getting him to bed in the evenings, she thought. She’d always assumed her son required less sleep. But, as usual, her mother had chosen the easiest path.
“There’s no Eileen here, my dear. I’ll put your clothes out while you go wash your face. Get dressed and come to the kitchen. I’ll have breakfast ready.”
She gently propelled her son into the bathroom. After she laid out his clothes, she went into Betsy’s room. The baby was just stirring, stretching and yawning.
“Good morning, angel. Did you sleep well? First, I’ll change your diaper, then we’ll have breakfast. After that, you get a bath. If you’re not too modest, I’ll let Andy help. Then we’ll go grocery shopping. How does that sound?”
As if she approved, Betsy smiled at her. Her whole face lit up and her eyes gleamed. She had the same eyes as her father, sea-blue, only his never sparkled in a smile.
Debra shrugged her shoulders and changed Betsy’s diaper. Time to get things done, not think about John.
“How was Betsy this morning?” Bill asked John as they rode out a short time later.
John jerked back on his reins, startling his horse. Staring at Bill, he frantically searched his brain. “She—she didn’t wake me up! Damn, she’s probably sick or something. I’ve got to go back. I’ll catch up with you!” he called over his shoulder as he urged his horse back toward the barn. All the way, he was telling himself he was the worst daddy in the world to leave his child without being sure she was all right.
He rode right up to the back door of the house and tied his horse to the limb of a tree nearby.
Opening the back door, he ran into the kitchen where he heard voices. There he found his baby daughter sitting in a high chair, babbling away and banging her fist on the tray.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” Debra called over her shoulder. She set a plate of scrambled eggs on the table in front of Andy and gave Betsy a bottle.
Andy leaned forward and whispered something John couldn’t hear, but he gathered the little boy mentioned his presence because Debra’s gaze flew to him. “John? Is something wrong?”
As if hearing his name alerted Betsy, she began cooing and waving her arms. “I think your daughter is trying to say hello.”
John crossed to the high chair. “Hello, Betsy. Did you miss Daddy?” He picked her up and kissed her cheek.
“Um, she hasn’t had her bath yet, so she may not smell too good. I thought it best to bathe her after breakfast.”
“That’s fine. But she didn’t wake me up at 4:00 a.m. as usual. I was afraid something was wrong.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I told you. Solid food stays with the baby longer and helps her to sleep through the night.”
“That’s really all it took? I didn’t believe— What did you feed her?”
“Last night I fed her some whipped potatoes.”
“She might’ve choked on that!” John exclaimed.
“The spoonfuls were very small, John. I’ve fed a baby before.”
“Yeah, but—”
“If you want me to wait until I take her to the doctor, I will. It’s your choice.”
“No, I guess— When are you going to the grocery store?”
“After breakfast and Betsy’s bath. I didn’t think he’d open before eight o’clock.”
“Her baby seat is in the car. Make sure you strap her in.” He settled his daughter in her high chair again. “Be careful. Don’t drive too fast.”
“No, I won’t.”
He stared at her. “Am I acting like an idiot?”
“Just a little bit,” Debra said with a smile. His obvious love for his child was very attractive and made it easy to forgive his difficult behavior toward her.
“Fine. Just—just get her home safely.”
“I will, I promise.”
John remounted and joined his crew, but his worries continued to dominate his thoughts. It was the first time someone else had taken Betsy anywhere.
Debra was unusually nervous when she drove the Cadillac Escalade to Westlake’s general store. She’d never been in such an expensive vehicle. It seemed foolish to Debra to pay for such a costly truck just to be sure Betsy was safe.
It appeared the store owner agreed with her. “I couldn’t believe when John ordered this here car for his wife,” Charlie said. “Man, these things cost a fortune.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard. But I guess it’s water under the bridge.”
“I don’t know about that. He could sure sell it and pay off some debts.”
“Would he get a lot for it?”
“Sure. He’s hardly driven it since his wife died.”
“Maybe he’ll decide to do that. Thanks for your help with the groceries.”
“Glad to do it. You’ve got your hands full with two little ones. Did you get everything you need?”
“I think so. Whatever Mrs. Richey did, she certainly organized and stocked the kitchen well.”
“Shoot, that wasn’t Mrs. Richey. John had a housekeeper after he got married. Mrs. Richey insisted. But she left just before Mrs. Richey died. The lady of the house was unhappy with her work and fired her. Just as well. John couldn’t afford her salary with all the debt he’d incurred, anyway.”
“I hope she found another job.”
“Sure she did. A good cook can always find a job.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Thanks again for your help.”
Debra had a lot to think about as she drove home. Why hadn’t John sold the Escalade? His wife wasn’t here to use it. She certainly didn’t need it. She could drive John’s or Bill’s truck whenever she needed to go to town.
This trip to town was certainly productive, she thought as she eyed the big box in the back. John wouldn’t be upset that she’d bought Betsy a playpen, would he? After all, the baby could already pull herself up and would learn to walk if she had a safe place to try.
She could crawl around on the rug in the family room if someone was in there with her, but if Debra was to complete all her chores, she couldn’t watch the baby every minute. And Andy was too young for that responsibility. But he could watch Sesame Street and keep Betsy company if she was in the playpen.
As soon as they got home, Debra sat on the floor, with Betsy right beside her, and put together the playpen. Andy thought he was helping when he handed his mother the screws. It may have slowed down the process a little, but she believed in building a child’s self-esteem, even if it took a little lie now and then.
Soon she had Betsy in the new playpen and Andy on the sofa watching the television. She did chores until it was time to fix lunch, which reminded her that John hadn’t taken a sandwich like the other men. He would be starving. She planned her evening menu accordingly.
Both kids went down for a nap in the afternoon and she cleaned the big, beautiful house. Then she did some baking after they woke up. Andy loved baking cookies with her. Truth be told, she probably enjoyed it more than he did. Even Betsy was enthusiastic, joining in their laughter. While the cookies baked, Debra sat and spoke to the baby, helping her make sounds and try to make words.
The easiest one was Da-da. Debra wasn’t sure the baby knew she was naming her father, but she thought it would be fun for John. She could clearly remember the first time Andy called her Ma-ma.
Andy sat down for a cookie as soon as it cooled, the chocolate chips soft and gooey. She enjoyed a cookie, too, but more than that she relished this precious time with her son. If she’d been back in Kansas City, she’d just be getting home from the diner and no doubt be exhausted and looking forward to bed.
“Why can’t Betsy have a cookie, Mommy?” Andy asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Because chocolate isn’t good for babies, Andy. She’ll have to grow more teeth before she can eat chips, anyway.”
“But I like them!” Andy said.
“I know, honey. Betsy will, too, when she gets a little older. Oh, I need to feed the two of you so you can have your bath and go to bed before the men come in.”
“Why don’t I get to stay up and see the cowboys?”
“You will, honey, but right now they’re getting in late, too late for you to eat your dinner. After calving season, you’ll see a lot of them.”
“What’s calving season?”
“That’s when the mama cows have their babies.” When her son opened his mouth to ask more questions, she hurriedly said, “No, no more questions. I have too much to do right now.”
Once the children were in bed, she began preparing dinner, trying to fix dishes she thought John would like. Which was hard to do since she didn’t know any of his likes or dislikes.
Why did she keep thinking about the man?
He was driving her crazy.
She couldn’t possibly be attracted to him, could she? Well, she was sympathetic. She understood the anger he felt toward his first wife. She’d felt some anger toward her first husband, such as he was. But she wasn’t going to be hurt now. She was going to concentrate on her job and the children.
And one angry man.
CHAPTER THREE
“BETSY’s upstairs asleep, again?” John demanded fiercely when he came in for dinner that evening.
“Yes,” Debra said and followed him out of the kitchen. “John, I thought a regular schedule would be beneficial both for Andy and—”
“I’m not talking about Andy! I care about Betsy. I want to see her when I get home at night!”
Debra stopped short in the hall. “Well,” she said, her tone terse, “I guess that’s just another lie.” She turned back toward the kitchen.
“What are you talking about?”
“Uncle Bill said you’d be a daddy for Andy.”
Damn. Even he wouldn’t be mean to a kid. Didn’t she know that about him, at least? He was just in a snit—at Debra, mostly—and disappointed that even though the ranch work was getting done now, he was seeing less and less of his daughter. From the look on Debra’s face, he knew her feelings had gotten hurt. He knew he needed to apologize. Shoot, he was never any good at saying sorry. Often enough he’d had to eat crow when Elizabeth was upset—whether it was his fault or not. But it was not a skill he’d ever really acquired. He was about to give it a try when Debra shot him a narrowed glance as sharp as a new blade and walked away.
He’d apologize later. Seeing Betsy was important now.
Upstairs, John found his baby sleeping peacefully. He touched her downy hair and patted her back, but after several minutes, he realized she wasn’t going to awaken. Satisfying himself with a kiss on her cheek, he went back downstairs and showered. Everyone was already eating.
“Sorry, John,” Bill told him, a worried look on his face. “Debra told us to go ahead and eat.”
“No problem. I just wanted to check on Betsy.” The other two men welcomed him, but he noticed Debra said nothing as she passed the food to him. She’d get over her anger when he apologized later, not in front of the men, of course.
He waited until after they’d all finished eating, including the apple pie she put on the table. He’d never tasted better. But he thought his men had praised her enough.
Trying to wait out his men, he sat at the table, not moving as she stacked the dishes.
“Did you need something else, Mr. Richey?”
Her formality surprised him. “Why are you calling me that?”
“Is that not your name?” she asked coolly.
He ignored her question. “I was going to apologize—”
“Not necessary. You made everything clear.” She began loading the dishwasher.
Why did women make it so hard to say sorry? he thought to himself.
“Debra, stop! I want to apologize to you.”
“I’m sorry, but I have a lot of chores and I’m tired.”
“You’re not some damned Cinderella, Debra.”
“No, of course not. I’m your housekeeper.”
“You’re my wife!”
“You and I both know that isn’t true. If you’ll excuse me, I need to start a load of clothes.” She left the dishes and walked out of the room.
He followed her. “I’ll be able to hire a housekeeper in the fall.”
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Judy Christenberry
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Recently widowed rancher John Richey had sworn off women, but he′d do anything for his baby daughter–even remarry. After all, little Betsy was crying out for a mom, and he needed help. His foreman′s niece seemed the perfect choice for a platonic wife. Until he met her…Debra Williams and her toddler son filled John′s house with warmth, making it feel like a real home again. Debra thought a prime job awaited her out west, not a husband! But this big, blue-eyed ionest-to-God cowboy needed more than a wife in name only. John needed someone to melt his hard heart and show him the real joys of family….