Rancher To The Rescue. Arlene James

“Look, Daddy! Pretty.” He patted a throw pillow.

      “Very pretty,” Jake agreed, chuckling.

      Kathryn waved a hand absently. “Uh, come in while I... Come in.”

      She waited until he stepped inside. Then she closed the door and rushed off down a hallway on the right, calling, “Have a seat! Won’t be long!”

      Jake removed his hat, but instead of sitting he waited until he heard a door close, then he glanced into the open doorway of what might have been a den but was now a bedroom. Curious, he walked past the hallway and through a dining area filled with dark, ornate furniture. Peeking into the kitchen, he saw Formica countertops, worn white in places, and rusty chips in the enamel on the sink. The appliances had certainly seen better days, and a few of the stenciled doors on the cabinet hung at a tilt that made him want to reach for a screwdriver and hammer. A vase of daisies stood on the windowsill above the sink.

      Jake suddenly thought of his mom, how she had placed feminine little touches all around their Houston home. Those delicate, homey traces had gradually disappeared over the years after her death. Jake walked back into the living room and sank down in the easy chair, his hat in his lap.

      “Mizz Kat’ryn gots lotta flowers.” Frankie pronounced flowers as flou-hers.

      “Yes, she does.”

      “I like flowers.”

      “Me, too.”

      “Mizz Kat’ryn gotta dog?”

      “I don’t know.”

      Frankie had been lobbying for a dog of his own ever since Tyler had gotten his pup a couple months earlier. Recently, Stark Burns, the local veterinarian, had shown them a promising litter. Anxious to acquire his own dog, Frankie didn’t understand that the puppies still needed weeks before they could be weaned.

      A door opened and footsteps sounded, growing louder until Kathryn appeared, dressed in comfortable blue jeans and a filmy, flowered blouse worn beneath the familiar scrub suit top. Frankie flew toward her and threw his arms around her hips, knocking her back a step.

      “Whoa.” She still looked sad and worried, though she patted his back.

      Frankie beamed up at her. “You gotta dog?”

      “Uh, no, afraid not.” She looked to Jake and changed the subject. “I can work today. They haven’t reassigned my clients yet.”

      Yet.

      “Sounds like you could be out of a job.”

      “I’m afraid so. At least until my car’s fixed.”

      Jake got to his feet. “Ready when you are.”

      She went to a closet, opened the door and removed the familiar fabric bag.

      Meanwhile, Frankie ran and hopped on the couch again, bouncing slightly. “S’let stay here, Daddy.”

      Jake shook his head. “Can’t. We have to take Miss Kathryn to work.”

      Leaning back against the pillows, Frankie whined, “I wanna stay.”

      Nodding, Jake glanced around again. “I understand. It’s very nice.”

      Kathryn closed the closet door. “Thank you, but it’s just homemade, secondhand stuff.”

      “Homemade?”

      She shrugged. “Doesn’t make good sense to throw away things when a little time and effort can turn them into treasures. A torn sheet makes a fine slipcover or set of throw pillows.”

      “You made all this?” Jake asked, swirling a hand to encompass the room.

      She ducked her head shyly. “I even hooked the rug.”

      Impressed, Jake lifted his eyebrows. This was a woman of immense talent. “I suppose you painted the cabinets in the kitchen, too.”

      She looked a little taken aback that he’d seen her kitchen, but after a moment she said, “Who else? There’s no one here but me.”

      Surprised, Jake tilted his head. “I thought you lived with your mom.”

      Kathryn dipped her chin, dropping her gaze. “I—I did. She passed ten months ago, and before that she was far too handicapped to stencil cabinets. Or do much of anything else.”

      Jake let that sink in, frowning at the implications. After a moment, he lifted a hand, muttering, “We ought to get on our way.”

      Nodding, she followed him and a reluctant Frankie from the house. As he got Frankie settled in the truck, Jake mused that if things went well with the shop, maybe he and Frankie could find their own place and hire Kathryn Stepp to decorate it.

      Hire Kathryn Stepp.

      An idea sprang into his mind. What if he could convince Wyatt and Tina to hire Kathryn? Tina could certainly use the help getting the ranch house ready for guests. She’d intended to open a bed-and-breakfast in the ranch house from the beginning, and they were already turning away those who wanted to visit relatives in the area. Even if they would only agree to take on Kathryn part-time, that would give her some income.

      Realizing that he could say nothing to Kathryn until he’d prayed about this and talked to his brother and sister-in-law, Jake began to marshal his thoughts and put together his arguments. Excited to think that he might have found a solution to Kathryn’s problems that would also help Tina prepare the ranch house for guests, he bit back a smile.

      He would benefit from this, too. One way or another, he had to fix Kathryn’s car. Donating his labor was no issue, but paying for the parts himself would take a bite out of his savings, if she would even let him do it. He doubted she would accept that much charity.

      At least that’s what he told himself.

      It was a far more comfortable thought than the idea that he might like having Kathryn Stepp around the ranch.

       Chapter Three

      Kathryn folded the list of parts needed to repair her car and slipped it into the bag at her knee, biting her lips. Jake drove in silence for several moments, waiting for her to comment.

      “I—I can cover some of this,” she admitted shakily, “but I’d have to pay out the rest.”

      “We can arrange that.”

      “It could take some time.”

      “We’ll figure it out.”

      “How long do you think the repairs will take?”

      “Depends on how much time I have to work on it and how quickly I can find all the parts. Three, four weeks, at least.” He’d hoped to be well on his way to opening his shop by then, but now he’d have to divide his time between building the shop and working on her car. Seeing the tears that shimmered in her eyes, he said nothing of his own concerns.

      “I asked the agency to hold my job, but I doubt they will. Reliable transportation is part of the employment contract.”

      “Things will work out. We can arrange rides for a while.”

      She shifted uncertainly in her seat. “Oh, I couldn’t ask—”

      “In fact,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, “I’d be pleased to offer you a ride to prayer meeting tonight.”

      Eyes wide, mouth ajar, she looked as if he’d reached out and slapped her. “Uh, no thank you. That is...” She turned red in the face. “I d-don’t think it’s a good idea.”

      For him to take her to prayer meeting, she meant. At least that was his assumption. He couldn’t figure out why she disliked him so much. He’d done his best to be gentlemanly and helpful. Well, if