Buchanan's Pride (3 page)

Read Buchanan's Pride Online

Authors: Pamela Toth

BOOK: Buchanan's Pride
10.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“You look beat,” he said quickly. “You wouldn't have to pay me wages or anything, just room and board for a few days. Like I said, I could stay in the barn, eat a couple cans of beans. How about it?” He stuck out one big hand.
“Let's both sleep on it and see how you feel in the morning,” Leah replied cautiously. Not wanting to appear rude, she put her hand in his. Immediately, his fingers tightened. She remembered how they'd felt wrapped around her wrist, but this time his touch was different. Warm, strong and reassuring. His gaze remained steady, as though he had nothing to hide. She looked into his eyes. There was a gold ring around each pupil. It reminded her of a halo. Now she was getting fanciful. Next she'd be looking for wings and thinking God had sent her a guardian angel to help with the chores.
Well, maybe John would feel more like talking about himself in the morning.
As he released her hand, his face relaxed into a grin for the first time. “Fair enough.”
His smile was far from that of an angel, Leah thought distractedly. The last thing it evoked in her mind was heavenly thoughts. What was she getting herself into?
 
It seemed like hours later by the time Leah had John settled into the barn and she'd finished the chores. He'd offered to help, but she could see he was about to collapse, so she refused. He insisted he wasn't hungry, and when she took him a tray with soup and a sandwich later, along with an old jacket of her father's, he was sound asleep on the narrow cot in the tack room. For a moment she stood in the doorway, tray in hand, and watched him in the dim light from the passageway.
His face was in profile so the bandage on his forehead was hidden. He'd removed his shirt and his bare arms rested on the blanket she'd given him. They were muscular and tanned, as if he was used to working outside. Again Leah was tempted to accept his offer to stick around for a few days. The work was piling up and she had little time to do anything more than the basic necessities.
Deciding not to bother him with food, she set the tray down and backed silently out the door. If he woke up, the soup and the tea would be cold, but he might want the sandwich.
John watched through his lashes until she disappeared. Only when he couldn't hear her footsteps any longer did he open his eyes and glance at the tray she'd left. He knew he needed to eat, but food was the last of his concerns. Carefully he got to his feet and looked out the high window, watching her walk across the lighted ranch yard. Whistling to the dog, she disappeared into the house. The kitchen light winked out. After a few minutes, one went on at an upstairs window. A dark shape moved beyond the curtain. Feeling like a Peeping Tom, John shifted his attention to the yard.
Nothing about the scene seemed even remotely familiar. If he was a rancher, he didn't remember it. In the morning he'd make up some excuse to walk back to where she'd found him and look for his wallet. If he could find it, perhaps something inside, a photo or a phone number, would jog his memory. There might be someone he could call, someone who was wondering where he was. For now it was the only thing he could think to do.
Sitting back down on the cot, he glanced again at the tray. Ignoring the sandwich and the bowl of soup, he reached for the aspirin bottle she'd so thoughtfully provided and downed two more pills. He drained the cup of cooling tea and lay back down with a troubled sigh, intending to formulate some sort of plan. In minutes, oblivion covered him like a heavy blanket and he slept.
Chapter Two
L
eah's alarm clock went off before the sun came up. Her room was lit only by the glow from the yard light when she crawled out of bed, but she didn't need even that as she opened drawers by touch and threw on her clothes. Yawning, she padded downstairs to let Duke outside. Once the stock was seen to, she could shower and get breakfast for both the dog and herself.
Leah wasn't a morning person, and she was starting the coffee when she finally remembered the man sleeping in her tack room. Hastily, she glanced out the window. The barn was still dark. In the yard, nothing moved.
Was John still asleep or had she dreamed the bizarre events of the night before? If he really did exist, how was he feeling this morning? Should she have insisted he see the doctor, talk to the sheriff? Perhaps she'd better make sure he hadn't lapsed into a coma. While she was at it, she might as well take him a cup of coffee, just in case he was conscious.
While it finished brewing, Leah raced back upstairs to brush her teeth and run a comb through her hair. She wasn't trying to impress anyone, she reasoned. It was just basic hygiene. John would be more interested in caffeine than in her appearance anyway.
She glanced down at her faded flannel shirt, started to unbutton it and decided she'd better draw the line somewhere. She had a ranch to run and there was no time in her schedule for primping.
When she got back downstairs, the coffee was ready. Cautiously, she sniffed the container of milk in the refrigerator. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she poured it down the drain and hoped the man in her barn liked his java black. She slipped on her jacket, filled two mugs and headed outside.
When she stopped on the porch, pink was just bleeding into the eastern sky. The April air was cool, but not uncomfortably so. She filled her lungs with its freshness and then she took a bracing sip of coffee as she surveyed her domain. The barn begged to be painted and its roof was missing a few shingles. Some of the fence posts were starting to lean.
The dog ducked under the corral gate. Eventually he'd come back, wanting his breakfast and the reassurance of Leah's presence. Sometimes she envied him the simplicity of his needs.
Her thoughts turned to the man in her barn as curiosity and concern twisted together in her stomach. There was something about him she couldn't put a finger on, like a puzzle piece she knew was missing but couldn't identify.
Leah shook her head and the coffee sloshed dangerously. No. she was only being fanciful. He was a man who didn't like talking about himself, one entitled to his secrets. No more, no less.
Perhaps after a night's rest John would be more eager to tell his story to the law. Some people just didn't care for cops. Her own father had been that way, even though he and Sheriff Brody's predecessor had known each other since grade school. On more than one occasion, she remembered the patrol car dropping him off on a Friday night after he'd been drinking in town.
Now the old sheriff was retired to Florida and her father was dead. If not for the Buchanans, he might still be alive and her mother wouldn't be a prisoner of the world she'd created in her mind.
Yes, the Buchanans had a lot to answer for, all right—if not technically to the law or even to Leah, perhaps to a higher power who would mete out a fitting retribution for the lives they had damaged with their arrogance and greed.
Carefully, Leah set the coffee mugs on a post and slid open the barn door. Several horses poked their heads out of their stalls, ears pricked in her direction. A chestnut gelding named Star whinnied a greeting. In the shadows, a black-and-white cat disappeared behind some old crates as another, a big orange tabby, walked boldly over to Leah, its tail stuck up like a plume.
“Hi, Sassy.” She shifted both mugs to one hand so she could reach down and scratch behind the cat's ears. Awareness shimmied through her and she looked up to see a tall figure leaning against the tack-room doorway, watching her. Startled, she nearly spilled the coffee.
John's arms were folded across his chest and he was wearing the jacket she'd left for him the night before. Its bulkiness made him look even bigger and more imposing than she remembered, while the bandage on his forehead and a blur of whiskers gave him the inexplicable appeal of a desperado. Leah had always found strays hard to resist, and John was no exception.
“Good morning,” she said with a tentative smile. “How are you feeling?”
He straightened away from the door frame and rolled his shoulders. “I'm okay. Is that coffee?” He didn't walk like a man in pain as he sauntered toward her. “I swear I could smell it before I heard you coming.”
Leah managed to keep her hand steady and pass him a cup without spilling it. “I hope you like it black and strong.”
His full mouth tightened for an instant. “I'm sure I do,” he drawled, puzzling her. He took a cautious sip and rolled his eyes. “Perfect. Thanks.”
Leah flushed with pleasure. “I'll fix breakfast as soon as I have the horses turned out,” she offered. Duke nudged her leg and she buried one hand in his fur as he wagged his tail. “Head hurt?” she asked John.
For an instant, his gaze clouded over. “Not much.”
He certainly wasn't an effusive talker, she thought. “I'll change your bandage when we go back to the house. At least I don't have to go in to work today.”
“Work?” he echoed, clearly startled. “I thought this was your ranch.”
“I also have a part-time job at the library in town,” she explained, “but today's my day off.” Out of habit, she glanced at her watch. “I'd better get started.”
John drained his coffee. “I'll help if you'll show me what to do.”
She studied him for a moment over the brim of her mug. His color was better and he seemed to focus just fine. She wasn't about to turn down an extra pair of hands. He was looking around curiously and Leah wondered if he had any ranch experience.
“Have you worked with horses?” she asked. She boarded six head as well as her own three; she gave riding lessons to a couple of kids from town and the new wife of a neighboring rancher. The woman was from Chicago and had never been in a saddle before coming to Colorado.
Leah had a small herd of cattle, but horses were her first love. The money from lessons and boarding helped to cover expenses and to pay for her mother's care.
“A little,” John said, but he didn't sound too confident as he walked over to where an old gelding was poking his head out of his stall. Immediately, Patches bared yellow teeth. John stopped in his tracks and then he gave Leah a sheepish glance.
“Does he bite?”
She had to smother a laugh. “Patches? Just carrots. Tell you what, I'll turn them out and you clean stalls.” She pulled an extra pair of work gloves from her hip pocket and handed them to him. “Wheelbarrow and pitchfork over there.” She pointed. “Clean shavings down at the end of the row. Compost heap outside.” She explained what she wanted as he donned the gloves and flexed his bruised knuckles. No doubt they were still tender.
“When we're done here, I want to go back to where you found me and poke around a little,” he said. “I must have dropped my wallet in the grass”
“I'll drive you,” Leah replied. “Did you have a bag with you, too?”
“A bag?” He looked puzzled.
“Luggage? A change of underwear, perhaps?” she teased.
John flushed. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”
She wondered why he looked so uncomfortable. Surely not because she'd mentioned underwear. Perhaps she'd read him all wrong and he
was
down on his luck, ashamed to admit he was traveling light. As if
she
were loaded and living in a mansion. She'd been forced to sell off some of her land to Buchanan to pay bills and she was still barely scraping by.
“What did your bag look like?” she asked as she entered the first stall and greeted Jewel, the black mare she had raised from a filly. Jewel had been blessed with showy white stockings, a blaze on her forehead and endless patience with beginning riders.
John was standing in the aisle. “Like a regular bag, I guess. But you don't have to go with me. I can walk.”
“It's no trouble,” Leah mumbled absently as she scratched Jewel under her forelock. She wondered if he'd really lost his wallet or someone had taken it and he just didn't want to admit it—some male pride thing she didn't understand.
“Some of my dad's clothes may fit, if you need them,” Leah offered. Might as well get some use from the stuff she'd never bothered to dispose of. John was close to the same height as her dad, but any resemblance between the two men stopped there. Her father had been thicker around the middle and not as broad through the shoulders. Drinking had left its mark on his face, as well, while John's appeared to be weathered only by sun and wind.
“Won't your father mind?” he asked as she opened the outside stall door and stepped back. Jewel blew out a breath and tested the air, nostrils quivering, before ambling past Leah.
Only then did John enter her stall. Not a ranch hand, Leah decided. “My father died a few years ago,” she said.
“I'm sorry.” John's voice sounded genuinely regretful. “Was he ill?”
Sudden tears filled her eyes and she pretended to fiddle with the latch on the door. Funny how much the loss still hurt, especially when there had been so many unresolved issues between them. Their family hadn't been the Brady Bunch, that was for sure. “He was riding dirt bikes with a friend. His flipped over on him and he died instantly.”
John was gazing at her intently, as if he was really interested. “At least I was already grown up when it happened,” she added.
Something flickered in his eyes and then was gone. “Did that make it easier?”
“No, of course not. It's just that I got to spend more time with him, that's all.” She was about to ask about his family when he turned away abruptly and headed for the wheelbarrow. Maybe he didn't have a cowboy's ambling gate, but watching him move was still pleasurable.
“I'd better get started or the boss will be after me,” he called back over his shoulder, making Leah wonder if he'd been aware of her scrutiny. Frowning, she exited Jewel's stall and greeted Candy.
John was definitely a hard worker, she thought later as they piled into her truck. While she'd fed and watered the horses and the barn cats, he'd finished mucking out stalls. If his head or his bruised hand bothered him, he never complained. Once Leah had suggested he take a break, but he'd only shot her a disgusted look as he disappeared outside with the loaded wheelbarrow.
After she'd checked on him once and told him to holler if he needed her, she hadn't wanted to hover and make him feel uncomfortable, so she'd purposely left him alone. On his trips to the compost heap he'd been whistling tunelessly, and once, when she was playing with Hailey's foal, she'd heard a muffled curse from inside the barn. Since it hadn't been followed by a shout for help, she'd stayed where she was. With his assistance, the morning chores had been done in nearly half the time it usually took her.
“Are you sure the guy who gave you the ride didn't drive off with your bag?” she asked as Duke jumped into the back of the pickup and they headed down the road.
John shrugged. “Didn't think he did. Sure is pretty country around here. Did you grow up on this ranch?”
Leah followed his gaze as they bumped along toward the main road. It had been quite a while since she'd really taken the time to appreciate her surroundings. Usually all she noticed was what needed to be done. Today the sky above was nearly empty of color, but the land that rolled up to meet it was finally greening over. Its palette was changing from the dead browns and faded tans of the season past and starting to reflect instead the vibrancy of new spring growth. Along the road, dark purple prairie crocus bloomed.
This last winter in eastern Colorado had been an especially harsh one, whose end she'd been glad to see. Feed for the stock had cost more than she'd expected and she was looking forward to summer, even though the warmer weather would mean more work than ever. She'd need permanent help before then.
“Except for college I've always lived here,” she replied when she realized John was still waiting for an answer. “My grandfather bought this land.” Some of her fondest memories were of the time she'd spent with him before he died in a blizzard. Much as she'd tried, her relationship with her father had never been as close. Perhaps if he'd lived—
“Where did you go to school?” John interrupted her thoughts as he shifted in the seat and rearranged his long legs. Suddenly the cab seemed cramped as it never had before, even when there were three people crowded inside.
“Colorado State up in Fort Collins. I went for nearly three years.” A whole new world had opened up for her then, but being called back home before she was ready had been a painful necessity—one beyond her control.

Other books

Shattered Lives by Joseph Lewis
Morgoth's Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien
Kilts and Kisses by Victoria Roberts
The Strange Quilter by Quiltman, Carl
The Devils Highway: A True Story by Luis Alberto Urrea
The Beam: Season Three by Sean Platt, Johnny B. Truant