Название | One Tall, Dusty Cowboy |
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Автор произведения | Stella Bagwell |
Жанр | Контркультура |
Серия | Men of the West |
Издательство | Контркультура |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781472048479 |
“What’s the matter with you, Dad?”
Orin let out another sigh and the sound irked Rafe no end. He loved and respected his father greatly, but it annoyed the hell out of Rafe to have the other man treat him as though he were still a bumbling teenager.
“All right, son. Just so you understand how important she is right now. She could be the difference in your grandfather getting strong enough to walk again.”
Rafe turned away from the window. “You make it sound like she’s a miracle worker.”
“From what Chet told me, she has worked miracles with a few hopeless cases. That’s why he recommended her for Dad’s therapy. I just hope she can endure his bullheadedness.”
From his brief exchange with the blonde beauty, he certainly didn’t think she’d have any trouble holding her own with Bart. She was the first woman in a long time that had rejected his advances, and she’d hardly been uncertain about it.
Go find the nearest mirror and tell the guy looking back at you that he’s not quite the Romeo he thinks he is.
Lilly Lockett’s parting remark still had enough power to sting him. But on the other hand, he admired her spunk. And Rafe always did like a challenge.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I don’t think Lilly is the sort of woman who runs from anything. She’ll handle Gramps.” And me, he thought wryly.
“I’m glad you think so. Now tell me about the branding. Did the men find more stray calves to add to the spring tally?”
“Fifty-two additional head. They were over on the Antelope Range, on the flats near the river. All of them were packing good weight.”
“That’s a nice find. Have you tagged or branded them yet?”
“No, sir. I plan to start on them before the end of the week. We’ll do the bunch over on the Salt Cedar trail first.” Rafe quickly drained the last of his coffee then put the cup down on the coffee table. “I’d better get back out to the branding fire. I’ll see you at supper.”
As he started out of the office, his father called out, “Rafe? Did you come all the way upstairs just for a cup of coffee?”
Damn! Meeting Lilly Lockett on the staircase must have distracted him more than he thought. “Oh, yeah. I wanted to talk to you about those horses Finn has been lobbying for. Is he going to get them or not? The hands are hurting for more mounts. Three are sidelined with bone chips and two more are being treated for colic and one with a shoulder injury.”
“Have you talked to Finn about this?”
Frustrated, Rafe slapped his gloves against the palm of his hand. “Hell, yes. He says he’ll come up with more. But damn it, Dad, he’s so caught up with the foaling mares he forgets that there’s cattle to be taken care of around here. It’s already the first week of May. We can’t do the rest of spring roundup without horses.”
“Have you talked with your brother today?”
“I went by the foaling barn but he wasn’t there. I tried his cell phone but he didn’t answer.”
“He’s probably over at the J Bar S. He promised Sassy he’d help her with one of their horses. I don’t know exactly what it was about but you know how Finn feels about his sister. He’s not about to disappoint her.”
A little more than a year ago, it was revealed that Orin had sired a daughter during a brief, illicit affair. Not only had it shocked Orin, who’d been unaware of the child, it had stunned Rafe and his four brothers to learn they had a half-sister. But learning their father had been unfaithful to their mother had only been a part of the revelation. The whole secret of the woman’s pregnancy had been kept for twenty-four years with hush money doled out by Bart.
No doubt the story had been told and retold from one end of Carson City to the other.
“I love Sassy, too,” Rafe said. “But Finn needs to get his priorities straight! If he doesn’t have time to take care of the working remuda, then maybe you ought to find someone who can!”
Rising to his feet, Orin leveled a look of warning at him. “Rafe! You’re stepping out of line.”
Rafe stood his ground. “Sorry, Dad, but I’m stepping exactly where I should be stepping. This whole matter reflects on my job and I’m not going to let anyone make me look like a slacker!”
With a weary shake of his head, Orin asked quietly, “Does this always have to come down to you, Rafe?”
“I’m thinking about this ranch. Not myself. Maybe someday you and everybody else around here will understand that.”
He left the office before his father could say more and once outside, his long stride carried him toward a group of wooden corrals, where he’d left his horse tethered to a hitching rail. As he mounted the blue roan and kicked the gelding into a lope, he realized it was a waste of time to try to argue his case with his father. Neither Orin nor his brothers really understood what drove or pushed him. They all believed he was self-seeking. They had no clue that every cell of his heart had long ago been poured into this land and the animals that roamed it.
* * *
The next morning, Lilly was relieved when she entered the Silver Horn ranch house and made it up to Bart’s room without running into Rafe. Not that she’d been expecting him to be lurking around, just waiting to see her again. But even the thought of a chance meeting with the man ruffled her nerves. Especially after the fourteen-hour shift she’d put in yesterday. One traumatic injury after another had come through the E.R. doors over the course of the night, and she’d finally crawled into bed just before daylight, mentally drained and physically exhausted.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Bart,” she said a few minutes later as she urged the man to make another repetitive move with his arm. “Use all your strength. Keep your hand against mine and try to shove me backwards.”
The white-haired man chuckled. “I’d never shove a lovely lady like you, Lilly.”
Lilly couldn’t help but smile. Everyone had warned her that Bart Calhoun was a hateful, crotchety bastard of a man, but from the moment she’d met him, he’d been a perfect gentleman. She only hoped his manners didn’t change before his therapy was finished.
“Well, just pretend that I’m someone you don’t like,” she told him. “And don’t worry, I’m strong. So put some power in that arm.”
He did as she asked and this time she could feel a bit more resistance as he strained to do the exercise.
“I’ve never been helpless in my life, Lilly. And I don’t like it. Up until I had the stroke, I still had enough punch to knock a man flat on his back. But now...” He trailed off with a wistful sigh. “Things change when a man gets older.”
Moving to his left foot, she motioned for him to push against her cupped hands. “You can’t blame your condition on your age, Bart. From what your family tells me, you like Kentucky bourbon and arguing. That’s not a good combination for a man with high blood pressure.”
“Well, I do have my faults,” he sheepishly admitted. “All of us men do, you know. I’m just thankful to God that my speech wasn’t affected. It would be hell if I couldn’t communicate.”
Lilly figured this man didn’t necessarily need words to communicate. He was very much like his grandson, who expressed most of his thoughts through his