One Lucky Cowboy (33 page)

   He picked up the booklight and held it in his hands as if it were a sparrow with a broken wing. In that moment he knew it was over, just like Kristy said, but it would take him months, possibly years, to get over the ache in his heart.

Jane exercised several horses that day and had a sore butt to prove it. She sank down into a deep tub full of bubbles and sighed, thinking about the day that she'd ridden with Slade all day on the Double L. She remembered verbatim the conversation they'd had and how he'd tried to trick her into giving out background information.

   She shut her eyes and envisioned him riding beside her, meeting every barb she threw out with one of his own. A smile tickled the corners of her mouth when she remembered rocking Kristy's jaw. She wondered if that witch had been sniffing around the ranch since Slade had gone back home.

   The phone rang and she reached across the edge of the tub to the bright red wall phone and picked it up. "Hello?" She almost crossed her fingers hoping it was Slade or at least Nellie.

   "Ellacyn, this is Celia. Am I forgiven yet?"

   "No, I don't think so."

   "Hey, he talked you into marrying him, and you're the most stable person on the earth. If he could do that, think how he could snow me? Remember, I'm the true blonde. And besides, I didn't sic him on you intention ally. I just wasn't too smart when it came to keeping my mouth shut when you called, and I am sorry."

   "Right-out-of-a-bottle blonde, you mean. The only way it's true is if the color on the box says
True Blonde
. You are forgiven but it'll take me longer than saying three words to forget that you didn't shut up when I told you to."

   "Thank you," Celia said. "Now that you aren't mad at me, could we do lunch? Or better yet, my new boyfriend has a friend who'd love to meet you. He's interested in horses and we could do a double on Friday. How does that sound?"

   Jane's hands went clammy and her stomach tied up in knots. She'd never trust a man again, not as long as she lived. If someone could sweet talk her into almost getting herself killed one time, it could damn sure happen again. The only man she'd ever put her trust in was Slade.

   "No thank you," Jane said.

   "Okay, as your newly forgiven friend, I'm going to put on my preaching robes. Ellacyn, you've got to get off that ranch. Sure, it was a sad thing that happened, but you aren't listed among the dead. You are still alive and it's time you stopped acting like the world has come to an end. You've been holed up there a whole week and not even been out to lunch with me and I'm your best friend. So I won't take no for an answer. If you are home on Friday night—that's two days away—you will be going out with me and my boyfriend. We'll pick you up at eight. Be ready and no excuses. Amen. Now you deliver the benediction," Celia said and hung up before Jane could tell her not only no, but hell no.

   "If I'm home on Friday. That's what you said and so this is the real benediction, darlin'. I won't be home. Final Amen!" Jane shouted into the silent cell phone.

   That word "home" is what set her to thinking. When she heard the word "home," a vision of the Double L came to mind: dinner on the deck with the hired hands gee-hawing over what they'd done or were going to do, how hot it was, how hungry they'd gotten; Nellie and Ellen arguing over the Silver Saddle dances; Slade, always Slade, exchanging barbs with her. That was home. The ranch was a place to live. The oil company a place to work. But home, like the old cliché said, was where the heart was.

   She rose up out of the bathtub with such speed that the water sluiced off in great waves. "Damn that Kristy hussy. If she's been out to the Double L causing trouble she'll just think I've rocked her jaw in the past. She'd best be keeping her sorry ass on her side of the property line." She wrapped a towel around her midsection and headed for the bedroom.

   She dug around in her purse for a business card. Holding the towel up by pinching it against her side under her arm, she punched in the numbers on the house phone.

   "Hello," James' voice said. "Is this Ellacyn Hayes?"

   "You've got caller ID—but no, this is Jane Day and I'm calling to see if you've got your money counted. I'm ready to negotiate."

SLADE KEPT TIME WITH THE RADIO BY TAPPING HIS FINGERS on the steering wheel of the old work truck as he drove west toward Ringgold. Marty couldn't plow the south hundred acres with a broken-down tractor, so he'd driven to Nocona for tractor parts. When he reached the ranch, he bypassed the house and drove down to the field where Marty had taken off the broken pieces and sat in the shade of the tractor wheel.

   "Well, you look like you are in a better mood. Maybe we should send you for parts more often." Marty's brown eyes twinkled, lighting up his weathered face.

   "It won't last long," Slade said.

   Marty picked up the tractor part and searched in his toolbox for a screwdriver. "Women can be a good thing. Don't know what I'd do without Gloria; she's been my right arm for thirty years. But there's days when a woman will drive you crazy—like when she's arguin' about every little thing. Them days I could shoot her between the eyes and feed her to the coyotes. Then I get to thinkin' and feel guilty as hell for feelin' like that about the woman who's put up with my sorry ass for all these years."

   
Sorry ass? That's what Jane had called Slade mor
e than once. He'd just about sell his share in the Double L to a homeless soul for a dollar bill to see her pop her hands on her hips and call him that again. He'd consider giving the homeless fool fifty dollars to take it off his hands for a night like they'd shared after they'd had too many beers with whiskey chasers.

   "You got that look in your eye, son. You was thinkin' about her. It's been three weeks. Don't you think it's time you called her?"

   "She'll call me if she wants to talk," Slade said.

   "Good girls don't call boys. They wait for the boys to call them. Nellie has told you that often enough that it should have soaked in. Hold this right here and don't let it slip. We'll be 'til dinnertime gettin' this thing fixed."

   Slade held but he didn't comment.

   The sun was straight overhead, the August heat bearing down on them like an anvil by noon. They were dirty, greasy, and hungry, but the tractor was fixed and ready to plow all afternoon.

   "I'm glad for air-conditioned cabs, let me tell you," Marty said on the way in for dinner. "Why don't me and you invent a tractor with an automatic button that knows when to make the corners and keep a straight line? Then we could take a nap during the afternoons."

   "That'll probably happen but I hope not in my life time. I like ranchin' too well to give it all up to robots," Slade said.

   "Me, too, son. But today I wouldn't mind havin' a robot tractor. I feel my age."

   They parked at the back edge of the yard and washed up at the pump. The cold water felt good on Slade's arms and face. A soft summer breeze had kicked up by the time he'd dried off and headed for the dinner table. He stacked sandwiches on his plate and filled a bowl with chicken and dumplings. Two pans of brownies waited at the end of the table along with a big bowl of frozen peaches.

   "Will you sell me that Mustang now?" Vincent grinned from across the table.

   "Why would today be any different than yesterday or last week?" Slade asked.

   "More tea?" Jane asked from the back door.

   Slade's sandwich stopped midair. "What in the
hell
are you doing here?"

   "Working," she said. Her pulse raced. Her breath came in short spasms. It wasn't the reception she'd hoped for but it was one hundred percent bona fide Slade Luckadeau and that's the man she was in love with—not one who'd rush to her side, take her in his arms, and all but swoon. But one who couldn't get his sandwich to his mouth even though smart-ass remarks could come out of it.

   "Showed up on my doorstep this morning with a duffel bag and said she needed a job. She's proven she's damn good help, so I hired her. You got a problem with that?" Nellie asked.

   "Wouldn't do me a bit of good if I did, would it?" Slade asked.

   Ellen cut the brownies into generous squares. "You got that right."

   "More tea?" Jane asked again.

   "Love some, but you aren't working here, Ellacyn Hayes."

   "Ellacyn Hayes isn't but Jane Hayes is. You didn't hire me, cowboy, so you can't fire me. Move your old dirty arm over so I can set this tea pitcher down."

   God, she felt good. Celia had been right two weeks before when she'd said Jane wasn't alive. Well, she was right then and by damn she didn't intend to quit living ever again.

   "The Mustang?" Vince pressured.

   "You can have the damn thing. It's yours. It needs a title and tag. You buy them and you can consider it your bonus for the summer's work," Slade said.

   Vince shouted so loud it scared the birds from the pecan tree and two squirrels set up a chattering to let everyone know the noise had interrupted their afternoon nap. "Can I drive it tonight? I got a hot date with my girlfriend. I been telling her about that car for three whole weeks."

   "I don't care what you do with it. Keys are in the ashtray. It's yours," Slade said.

   Nellie and Ellen exchanged a look.

   Jane bit back a grin.

   "What are you doing this afternoon?" Jane asked.

   "Plowing and I don't need any help," he said.

   His heart hadn't stopped thumping since he looked up and saw her in the doorway wearing that dolphin T-shirt and faded jeans. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore only a faint hint of eye makeup. Scuffed up brown work boots had replaced the Nikes. She'd never looked so damned beautiful and his mouth was so dry he didn't dare try to eat the sandwich. He wouldn't be able to swallow a damn bite of it.

   "I hadn't planned on helping you but if you are plowing that acreage back in the southwest corner, don't bother. Nellie sold me five acres back there. I don't want it plowed or planted."

Slade's mouth dropped. "You did what?"

"She offered me a deal I can't refuse," Nellie said.

   "I cannot believe you broke up our land to sell a stranger five acres," he said.

   "Believe it. I did and she don't want the five-acre corner plowed, so leave it alone," Nellie said. "Besides, Jane's not a stranger."

   Slade pushed back from the table, grabbed his hat from the back of his chair, slapped his leg with it five times and stomped out to his truck. Of all the scenarios he'd envisioned those nights he'd spent sitting on the hood of that blasted Mustang, he'd never even thought of anything like the one that had just played out.

   He'd been right in the beginning. They couldn't abide each other in normal surroundings. It was only during the adrenaline rush of danger that they got along. Hell, even a spider and a rattlesnake could be friends in a situ ation like that. And now Nellie had sold the woman five acres. She'd be a thorn in his side forever. Hells bells, she was already telling him not to plow her five acres. He should have let John shoot her back down there in Baton Rouge.

   After the meal was finished and the men gone back to work, Jane helped carry in the leftovers and dishes that needed washing. She ran a sink full of water and set about cleaning cutlery and glasses while Nellie and Ellen put away leftovers.

   "Well, that went well," Jane said.

   "Wasn't what I wanted," Ellen said.

   "Nor me," Nellie shook her head. "He's so damn bullheaded. Just like his mother. His father wasn't like that."

   "Give it time. It was a shock and I meant for it to be. I'm not in a hurry. I've got a job and five acres. It'll take a while to get the septic tank people out here and the electric company to put up a pole for me. By the time my new double-wide is delivered, I bet he's singing a different tune."

   "Girl, you got more faith in that grandson of mine than I do," Nellie said. "His mother's genes are surfacing. She never could see the best thing right in front of her nose."

   "He'd come unglued if he heard you say that," Jane said.

   "Unhinged is more like it," Ellen said. "Lord, I'm glad you're back. Things were getting so dull around here, I was thinking about going back to Wichita Falls forever. Now I'm thinkin' maybe I'll talk Nellie out of the five acres on the other side of this place and put me in a double-wide. Things are poppin' again. I don't care if he don't never come to his senses, this is so damn much fun—I love it."

   "Maybe I shouldn't have surprised him like that," Jane said.

   "No, siree, that was just the ticket. Let's go shopping for something to wear to church tomorrow morning," Ellen said. "We haven't had a driver to take us anywhere since you left."

   "Oh, come on, don't give me that line. You two have been to the Silver Saddle every week."

   "Yes, but Slade hasn't got time to take us to the outlet mall and I'm naked for clothes," Ellen said.

   Nellie rolled her eyes. "Your closet here is packed and you've got three closets in Wichita that wouldn't hold another hanger."

   "I'll give them all away if you'll take us shopping. We could stop in that defunct food court and have one of them giant cinnamon buns. I'll even pay for it," Ellen begged.

   "I'm working for Nellie," Jane said.

   "Then I guess we'll go shopping," Nellie said. "I'll never hear the end of her whining if we don't. Want to shop for things for your new home?"

   "Not now. One step at a time," she said. She felt like singing just to be back home. She was in no hurry to make big decisions such as what color towels to put in the bathroom.