Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1) (9 page)

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Authors: Martha Shields

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #Fiction, #Forever Love, #Adult, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Sensual, #Hearts Desire, #Harlequin Treasury, #Series, #Cowboys, #Rescue, #Family Life, #Western, #Rancher, #Rodeo, #Teenage Sister, #Caretaker, #Household, #Manage, #Persuade, #Reconcile, #Relationships, #Marriage Minded, #General Romance, #Silhouette, #1990's

BOOK: Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1)
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“Oh. Well, don’t go just for my sake. But if you’re going, I’d be glad to ride along with you. I’ve seen so much practicing around here, I’d like to see the real thing.”
Hank nodded, then turned to Claire. “We’ll go.”
Claire beamed down the table at Alex. “You’ll have fun.”
Alex smiled back. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Chapter Five
“I
t’s easy to tell you and Claire are related.”
Hank took his eyes from the road to glance at Alex. She sat as close to the door as possible and hung on to the handle with both hands. “Because we look alike?”
“Because you drive alike. Did y‘all inherit the ‘Twenty Miles Over the Speed Limit’ gene from your mother or father?”
Hank chuckled. “Father.”
“You should do that more often, too,” she said quietly.
Hearing a breathless quality in her voice, he glanced over to see her eyes on him, soft and warm. That heat traveled across the cab of the truck and filled his chest. He had to clear his throat before asking, “Why?”
“You’re nice when you smile, but when you laugh, you seem almost human.”
His lips curved at her teasing tone. “
Almost
human? You mean I’m not?”
“The ranch hands don’t think so. They say you’re a slave driver.”
Hank felt his voice lower as he asked, “And what do you think?”
“I think...I think I want you to slow down.”
Hank eased his foot off the gas. Why not? They had all day. “Better?”
Sighing her thanks, she relaxed and seemed to move away from the door without really getting any closer to him. She didn’t trust him. That shouldn’t be important to him, but the fact that her wariness rankled told him it was. He dropped his speed again, until it hovered near the limit. At this rate it would take two hours to get to Riverton. That meant four hours in the truck with a woman who acted as if he might bite her head off any minute.
In an attempt to get Alex to relax, he decided to try conversation. Since he was curious about how a Southern lady ended up in Wyoming, he started there. “So, you’re from Alabama. Where about?”
He felt her look at him but kept his eyes on the road.
“A tiny little town in the southeastern corner called LaNett. It’s as small as Dubois, I think. How many people live in Dubois, do you know?”
“The last census had us at around nine hundred, I believe. But the town’s growing every day. People moving in from all over. It’s...” Hank trailed off as he realized how smoothly she’d changed the subject from her to him. He’d noticed she did a lot of that. Was it on purpose? He decided to find out, and changed the subject right back. “It’s a dadburn shame. I like it small. So this LaNett is just as small? You born there?”
“Born and raised. How about you? Where were you born since there’s not a hospital in Dubois? Riverton?”
“No, I was born at the house.”
“At the ranch house? Didn’t your mother believe in hospitals?”
“Oh, sure, she just couldn’t get there. A storm blew through the night before, and for once it didn’t dump all its snow on the Tetons. There were four-foot drifts blocking the road into Dubois.”
“She had a baby all by herself?” Alex pressed.
He threw a glance her way. She’d done it again, but she seemed genuinely interested in his answer, so he continued, “No, my dad delivered me.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. It’s not uncommon for a rancher to deliver at least one of his children. He’s usually had enough experience pulling calves and foals to know his way around...that end of things.”
“What if there had been complications?” she asked in horrified tones.
He shrugged. “Luckily there weren’t—with me or with Claire. But Dad took Mom to the hospital as soon as the road cleared, which was the next day.”
“Claire was born in a snowstorm, too?”
“No. Mom went into labor one morning when Dad and I were out on the range. Travis was home, but he was only five. By the time Dad and I made it home, Claire was ready to be born. I think it was only ten minutes after we walked in the door.”
Alex slowly shook her head. “That’s amazing. Your mother must’ve been a very strong woman.”
Funny, Hank had thought of his mother as tiny and fragile, not strong. Now he realized she probably just seemed tiny because he was as big as his dad. His father had treated her like a delicate flower, so Hank had, too. But she must’ve been strong—and not just physically. She’d put up with his father all those years. Him, too. “Yep, I reckon she was, at that.”
“It must’ve been hard on you when your parents died.”
“You know what happened?”
“All you told me was they drowned in a flash flood.”
Hank spoke past the sudden heaviness in his chest. “One of our bulls was stuck in an arroyo on the south end of the property. They’d been out riding and tried to save it The bull got out in time. They didn’t. At least, that’s what we think happened. When their horses returned to the barn without them, the hands found the bull at the top of the arroyo. They found Mom and Dad a few hours later, half a mile down.”
Alex was quiet for a moment, then said, “You weren’t home, were you?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t find out until the next day. I was on the road between Mesquite and Abilene.”
“And you felt guilty about not being there. Especially for your mother.”
Hank turned wide eyes on her. “You
do
read minds.”
“No, I read people. I’ve gotten pretty good at it over the years. I’ve had to.”
Before he could question her about that, she hurried on. “I would like to have met your mother.”
Hank tried to imagine Alex and his mother together. He found he could, very easily. “She would’ve liked you.”
“She would’ve? Why do you say that?”
“From what I’ve seen, you’re a lot like her. You work hard, learn fast, and stand up for yourself.”
“Oh.”
A silent moment passed before Hank tried changing the subject back to Alex. “Were you born in a hospital? If LaNett’s the same size as Dubois, it probably didn’t have a hospital, either.”
“It didn’t,” she answered. “But we did have a doctor there. He had a clinic with a couple of rooms for things like that. He still operated it when I left.”
“And when was that?”
“Six years ago. I was nineteen. When you were nineteen, you’d been on your own for two years already, hadn’t you?”
Hank shook his head. Gleaning information from this woman was like trying to pull a bull through a calf chute. It just wouldn’t come. And she’d accused him of being tight-lipped. Maybe if he talked about himself for a while he’d show her that he’d taken the advice she’d given him the other night to heart. Then maybe she’d relax and open up.
He shifted to a more comfortable position on the seat.
Talk about himself. Sure sounded easy. But it wasn’t, not for him. Look at what a fool he’d made of himself the other night in the kitchen.
He slid a glance over to Alex. But she hadn’t seemed to think he was a fool that night. Every time he remembered how she’d watched him with those hot honey eyes, and how she reached out to touch his hand...
As a familiar ache began to grow, Hank shifted again. He wanted her to look at him like that, again. If talking about himself is what it took, that’s what he’d do.
He started out with basic facts and intended to stick to those. But as the miles sped past, Alex dug deeper, and he soon found himself telling her about growing up under the harsh hand of John Eden, about using the rodeo to escape. By the time he pulled to a stop in front of McGuffey’s Tack & Saddlery, Alex was so engrossed, she didn’t seem to notice they’d stopped.
“So you left home to get away from your father?” she asked.
Hank pulled the emergency brake, then turned to face her. “It was half me leaving and half him throwing me out. We’d had some knock-down drag-outs before, but when I came home drunk after being gone for four days, he just about blew out the windows with his yelling.”
“Sounds like you deserved it,” Alex pointed out.
Hank rubbed his chin and felt several whiskers he’d missed. “Probably. I don’t think he meant to make me leave, but I knew our relationship wouldn’t get any better if I stayed. I was already pretty well known on the local rodeo circuit, and I wanted to go professional. So I quit school, lied about my age and became a card-carrying member of the PRCA.” When she looked at him blankly, he said, “The Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association.”
“Just like that, you turned your back on your family, the town where you grew up, your home. How could you do that? How could anyone?”
Her eyes were huge as they regarded him solemnly, accusingly. Confused by her apparent pain, he lowered his voice. “Many people do, Alex. Most people do to some degree. Leaving the nest is the most common thing in nature. You left home, didn’t you?”
She shook her head, sending the sunlight that streamed through the back window of the truck bouncing along her unbound hair. His fingers ached to bury themselves in the deep brown silkiness.
“Not willingly. I—” She swung her face away from him and her eyes lit on the sign. “We stopped.”
“About five minutes ago.”
“Oh. I didn’t notice.”
He grinned. “Really?”
“I’m sorry for being so nosy, but I—”
“Don’t apologize. So you didn’t willingly leave home. What happened?”
“I didn’t know we were going to stop at a tack shop. I thought we just came for groceries.”
Hank shook his head. What was so awful about her childhood that she didn’t want anyone to know? He’d started the conversation to pass the time, but suddenly it had very little to do with getting Alex to relax. He wanted to know everything about her—and he was determined to do just that.
“We come to town so seldom that when we do there’s always lots of things to take care of,” he told her. “I’ve got to pick up a different kind of bit for that sorrel I’ve been training, among other things.”
He made no move to get out, however, and Alex glanced at him nervously. “Then shouldn’t we go in if we’ve got so much to do?”
“In a minute. What made you leave home, if you weren’t willing?”
Alex’s brows attempted to meet, wrinkling the skin between them. “Don’t you live by the Code of the West? Butch told me it frowns on people who ask too many questions about people’s pasts.”
“If that’s true, why did you ask so many questions about mine?”
“I’m from the South. Down there, nosiness is a way of life. We like to know everything about everybody.”
“If I answered your questions, don’t you think it’s only fair that you answer mine?”
“No. I mean...”
Fascinated, Hank watched as her face reflected her struggles with her sense of fair play.
Finally she faced him. “Why do you want to know about my past?”
He turned the question around. “Why did you want to know about mine?”
Color stained her cheeks and she looked away. “I’m from the South, remember? We’re nosy.”
“You told me a couple of days ago that I should open up and discuss things. Don’t you practice what you preach?”
She tossed him a nasty look for that bit of logic, but he refused to back down. If it came to a stubborn contest, he knew he could outlast anybody.
“I... you’re my boss—for the moment. The more I know about you, the better I’ll be able to please you.”
Hank shifted on the bench seat, thinking of several specific ways she could please him. Feeling parts of him stirring that had absolutely no business in this conversation, he cleared his throat and turned her argument back on her. “And you’re my employee. The more I know about you, the more—”
“All right, I get the picture.” She sighed heavily. “Do you want my life story now when we have so much to do? Why not wait for the drive home? There’ll be plenty of time then.”
Hank studied her averted face. She had a point, but he knew she would try to avoid the conversation then. “Are you so ashamed of your past?”
“It’s not that exactly.”
When she didn’t continue, he pressed, “Then what is it?”
She huffed. “I don’t want to be pitied! There, I said it. Happy now?”
“No. You haven’t told me anything, as usual. Why would I pity you?”
“Because I was raised in an orphanage!”
Surprised as much by her vehemence as her words, Hank sat back. He’d read
Oliver Twist
and other stories about the horrors of orphanages, and he’d known kids who’d been adopted. But he’d never actually met anybody who’d been raised in an orphanage. At least, he didn’t think so. Maybe he had and they didn’t want to talk about it any more than Alex did.
He had a hundred questions for her. Did she know who her parents were? Did she ever want to be adopted? Did the orphanage feed her gruel? But he knew his questions would take a long time, so he said, “You’re right. We’ll talk about it on the way home.”
Alex stared at him as he opened his door and walked around the truck. As he opened her door, she asked, “No reaction? No ‘You poor thing’ or ‘I’m so sorry’ or—”

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