His Texas Wildflower (4 page)

But once her mother had learned of her daughter's plans, Gwyn had been outraged. She'd absolutely forbidden Rebecca to even consider such a career, insisting that her daughter was too fragile, too beautiful to be dealing with animals in a dirty barnyard.

Rebecca had argued the point. But by that time her father, Vance, who'd been a gentle, easygoing man, had already died, leaving Rebecca with no one to help support her wishes or desires. Gwyn had always been a forceful, strong-minded woman and Rebecca had never wanted to be a rebellious child. So she'd tried to consider the fact that her mother could possibly be right and that years down the road, after Rebecca had grown to womanhood, she'd eventually see that her wish to be a veterinarian was ridiculous.

In the end, she'd caved in to Gwyn's wishes and put aside her own dreams. But now, after all these years, Rebecca often wondered if her childhood pursuit would have suited her, would have given her more fulfillment than the materialistic job she had now.

“Well, looks like now is your chance to change that,” Jake remarked. “There are plenty of animals here for the taking.”

Lifting her head, she smiled wanly. He made everything sound so easy and uncomplicated. How would it feel to live that way? To not be hurrying and scurrying, constantly flying from one city to the next, continually worrying about maintaining her looks and asking herself if any of it really mattered, did
she
really matter in the scheme of things?

“Perhaps,” she murmured, then said, “If you're ready, I need to be shutting the house and driving to Ruidoso. I'd like to get back to my hotel room before dark and from here the trip is at least thirty minutes.”

“Sure. I'll help you.”

It didn't take the two of them long to shut the windows and lock the doors. Once they made their way back out to their vehicles, Rebecca paused at the driver's door of the sedan and extended her hand to him. When his warm fingers wrapped around hers, she was once again flung back to those moments she'd been wrapped in his arms. Somehow she knew she would never forget how it had made her feel to be that close to him, to have his voice in her ear, his hand in her hair.

“Thank you, Jake, for taking time out of your day to attend my aunt's services. It means very much to me. More than you can imagine.”

“I was glad to do it.”

Instead of dropping her hand, he continued to hold it tightly, his thumb moving ever so slightly against its back. Rebecca suddenly had to remind herself to breathe.

“Well, perhaps we'll see each other again—before I leave to go back to Texas,” she said, trying her best to keep her voice light and natural, even while she was feeling the quiver of her words as they left her tongue.

“I'd like that, Rebecca. Very much.”

She waited for him to drop his hold on her hand. When he didn't, she forced herself to extricate her fingers from his and turn toward the car.

Before she could reach to open the door, he did it for her and without looking his way she quickly slid beneath the wheel and started the engine.

When he shut the door between them, she dared to glance at him through the open window.

“Goodbye, Jake.”

He lifted a hand in farewell, then stepped back and out of the way. As she turned the car around and headed
down the short drive, she looked in the rearview mirror to see him walking over to his truck. As he went, he lifted his hat from his head and raked a hand through his hair as though he was either puzzled or weary, or simply gathering himself after the stress of dealing with an emotional woman.

Dear God, what had made her fall into his arms like that and weep against his chest? She wasn't that sort of woman. What could he be thinking of her?

It doesn't matter, Rebecca. You'll probably never see the man again.

The idea left her very, very empty.

 

Rafter R Ranch, the place Jake called home, was located only a few miles from Fort Stanton, a military facility that had once played an important part in New Mexico's early growth as a state, but was now only a preserved part of its history, where tourists could view the past. If Jake needed to drive to town for any sort of supplies, he had to head northwest to Capitan. The trip took more than twenty minutes and the town was actually only a village of about fifteen hundred people or so, but Jake didn't mind the isolation. In fact, he felt lucky to have snagged the precious river land.

Several years ago, when the property had gone on the real estate market, Jake hadn't seriously considered trying to purchase it for himself. At the time he'd been doing farrier work around the county, making a decent enough living for himself, but nothing that could secure enough money to buy choice river acreage. Besides, why would a guy like him want a house and several hundred acres? His mother already had a place of her own, and as for himself, he didn't need much to make him happy.

A place to eat, sleep and hang his hat was enough to satisfy him.

But Quint, who'd always been more like a brother than a friend, had insisted that someday Jake would want to settle down and raise a family, that one day he'd want a ranch, a place to build a dream.

At first Jake had laughed at him. Jake didn't have dreams, he dealt in reality. And the reality had been that he couldn't raise enough money to buy an outhouse, much less a house with hundreds of acres surrounding it. But Quint had stepped up and offered to help Jake get a loan and as a result, he'd somehow managed to purchase the first and only place he could truly call his own.

At that time it hadn't mattered that the property needed lots of work. The house had seen plenty of neglect and outside the fences and barns were crumbling. But he'd looked past the drawbacks and on to the possibilities. He might have been short on cash, but he was an able-bodied man who could do plenty of things with two hands and a strong back.

Acquiring the ranch had put a dream into motion for Jake. And along the way, he'd gone from farrier work to running the stables at Ruidoso Downs, to helping Quint build the Golden Spur into a cattle empire. His financial security had slowly and surely changed. Especially three years ago when gold had been discovered on the Golden Spur and Jake had purchased shares in the richly producing mine. Now, the Rafter R was taking shape. He was gradually building the place the way he saw fit and answering to no one but himself. And that meant the ranch's success or failure rested squarely upon his shoulders.

For Jake, it was a heavy weight of responsibility and
one he'd never grown accustomed to carrying. But he was trying. And for the most part, Jake couldn't complain. He had a large herd of cattle and horses, a home, and a ranch yard full of sturdy barns and plenty of equipment. He even employed two hands to take care of the animals. He had most everything a cowboy could want. Except a family.

That lonesome thought entered his mind as he pulled his horse to a stop outside the barn, then swung himself down to the ground. But he tried not to dwell on it as he loosened the sweaty girth and pulled the saddle from the animal's back. He wasn't the family sort. Being a husband and father and doing it right meant loving one woman for the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine putting himself in such a confinement, much less succeeding at it.

Jake had just finished putting away his horse and tack, when he heard his mother's voice calling to him from the edge of the barn door. More than surprised that she'd ventured away from Ruidoso so late in the evening, he strode down the wide alleyway to greet her.

Clara Rollins was a thin woman with wispy brown hair and a face that could only be described as tired. Jake could remember a time, back before his father, Lee, had left the family, that his mother had been a beautiful, vibrant woman. But that had been nearly twenty years ago, before his parents' marriage had begun to crumble and before she'd been diagnosed with cancer.

She'd beaten the disease, but the fierce treatments had weakened her heart and for the past five years Jake had watched her movements grow slower, the light in her eyes fade away. Not because her heart condition had worsened, but because she'd lost all will and hope. He loved his mother and wanted to make her life better, but
her mind-set was always on the negative. She refused to get better, because she believed she had no reason to get better.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said, as he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You've not driven over here to the ranch in ages.”

“I haven't seen you in days,” she said in a faintly accusing tone.

Jake bit back a sigh. In spite of his affection for his mother, she often tried his patience. Probably even more than Abe tried Quint's. But at least Abe was full of life. The old man would go to the end kicking, joking and enjoying his time on earth. Clara was content to simply wait for her life to slip by. He hated her attitude, but as yet hadn't found a way to change it.

“I've been very busy, Mom. I've been riding fence line this week.” He gathered his arm around her shoulders and urged her away from the barn. “Let's go to the house. I'll see if I can scrounge us up something for supper.”

“No need for that. I've brought you some pot roast. It's already in the kitchen, waiting to be heated.”

He rewarded her with a look of approval. “You've been cooking? You must be feeling better.”

“I just like to know my son is eating right,” she said wanly.

Jake's house was located about fifty yards from the block of barns and sheds that made up the ranch yard. Even though he kept his pace slow to match his mother's, she was breathing hard by the time they reached the back door and stepped into the kitchen. A part of him wanted to shake her for not following the doctor's orders and keeping herself in shape by taking routine walks.

“Sit down, Mom. And I'll get everything together
and on the table,” he told her as he washed his hands at the sink.

She did as he suggested and he went to work putting plates, utensils and iced glasses on the table.

“I talked to Quint's mother yesterday,” Clara said as Jake heated the meat and vegetables in the microwave. “She said she was home watching the babies for Maura, while you went to a funeral for Abe's neighbor.”

“That's right. Gertie O'Dell passed away and graveside services were held for her yesterday. I doubt you knew her. She—well, I don't think the woman hardly ever got off her place. She was a recluse. Abe said she'd been his neighbor for nearly thirty years and he could count the times he'd talked to her on two hands.”

“No. I don't recall that name,” Clara said thoughtfully. “How old was the woman?”

“Fifty-six, I believe.”

A worrisome frown collected between Clara's brows. “That's only a few years older than me.”

“That's right. It's unfortunate, but people of all ages die.”

He carried a dish of potatoes and carrots over to the table, then went back for the roast.

“What was wrong with her?”

Jake wasn't about to tell his mother that Gertie O'Dell had died from some sort of heart failure. Clara already considered herself an invalid. He didn't want to add the notion that, like Gertie, she was headed toward her deathbed.

“I'm not sure,” he said evasively. “Some sort of illness she'd had for a long time.”

With everything on the table, he took a seat kitty-cornered to his mother's chair and poured sweetened tea into their glasses.

Clara spread a napkin across her lap. “I'm surprised you attended the funeral. Guess you made the effort for Abe's sake.”

He paused to look at her. “No. I made the effort for Gertie's sake, Mom. I don't do everything in my life just to make an impression or score points.”

Clearly flustered by his retort, she clamped her lips together. “Well, you didn't know the woman personally,” she pointed out.

“Maybe not. But she was a fellow human being, a fixture in Abe's neighborhood. Whenever she saw me pass, she would always give me a wave. And coming from Gertie that meant a hell of a lot. She hated most folks.”

“Her family—”

“She had none,” Jake interrupted. “Not any immediate family. Only one relative showed up for the funeral.”

Clara's expression was suddenly regretful as she looked at her son. “How awful,” she murmured.

Jake sighed. “Yeah. That's my thinking, too.”

He didn't go on to tell his mother about Rebecca Hardaway. She'd press him with questions that he couldn't answer. Like why Gertie had left her estate to a niece who'd clearly never been a part of her life. At least, not while Gertie had been living in New Mexico. And from judging Rebecca's age, he'd guess that had been as long or longer than the pretty blonde had been living.

“Wonder what will happen to her estate?” Clara asked as she ladled food onto her plate. “I suppose with no husband or kids, some distant relative will put it up for sale.”

The image of Rebecca drifted to the front of Jake's
mind, the way her blue eyes had glazed with tears, the sobs he'd felt racking her slender shoulders. He'd been a bit shocked when she'd fallen into his arms. Not that a crying woman was anything new to him. Down through the years, he'd seen plenty of waterworks sprout for all different reasons. And most of the time he had to admit that tears on a smooth pink cheek left him unaffected. There wasn't a woman on the face of the earth who couldn't be a good actress when she wanted to be and turning on the tears was just a part of her act.

But Rebecca hadn't been acting, he realized, and her emotional state continued to puzzle Jake. She'd said she'd never been to her aunt's house before, but seeing it had disturbed her. She didn't appear to have even known Gertrude or how she'd lived, so why had the woman's death hit her so hard? None of it made sense to him. But then, Gertie had lived what most people would call a bizarre life. Maybe learning all of that about her family member had been too much for the Texas wildflower, he considered.