Cowboys Don't Believe in Fairy Tales

by Jessie Gussman

  She wasn’t so sure. She’d done what needed to be done at their own small ranch, but that was a far cry from the professional cowboys and huge acreage that encompassed Sweet Water. But Clay’s smile was both friendly and sincere.

  “My mom is in the office. I think she’ll give you an iPad to fill out an application online.” His eyes crinkled. “Put me down as a reference. You’ll get a job. Then it’s just a matter of convincing your stepdad to let you come here.”

  He hooked his hand in his back pocket. “If you want me to, I’ll call him.”

  Nell tried to figure if that would make any difference. Everyone, even Tom, respected the Preacher. His main job wasn’t foreman of Sweet Water Ranch. He actually owned a harvest crew and worked all over the western part of the country from spring until Thanksgiving every year.

  Each year, he took some of Sweet Water’s sons with him when he left. Those boys always came back with nothing but glowing praise for Clay and the operation he ran. Their parents appreciated that their boys had fun, but they didn’t need to worry about them doing anything that would embarrass their very religious families back home in North Dakota. Nell wasn’t sure how Gina fit in to everything, but she supposed she wasn’t the only one who felt pulled to a higher standard around Clay.

  “It probably wouldn’t help for you to call him,” she finally said. A visit would make a huge difference, but she couldn’t ask a two-hour drive, one way, of a busy ranch foreman who owned his own business, too.

  Clay’s face became solemn, and he nodded thoughtfully. “When does he leave?”

  “Sunday night.”

  “I’ll be over Sunday afternoon and have a word with him.” His eyes narrowed just a bit, and his mouth curved up, like he was hatching some kind of plan. But it was Clay, and he lived on a higher plane. He didn’t hatch plans or do anything that wasn’t completely aboveboard, so she had to have been mistaken.

  “You really don’t have to. I’d love to have a job, but I don’t mind being home with Vinton.” He was all that was keeping her home. That, and Brittney. She was sweet and completely unprepared for how rough the world could be. Bethany wouldn’t have a problem facing the world and making it do what she wanted, and she couldn’t wait to get out of North Dakota. She was just biding her time.

  A thoughtful look had come into Clay’s eye. “Roxie, the sister of Sweet Water’s owner, is in for the ball, and her son is about the same age as Vinton and Gina. I think it’d be really good for you and Vinton to be here. If you don’t mind, I’ll definitely be out to talk to your dad.”

  If Clay was going to talk to him, it was as good as done. Even her stepfather couldn’t resist Clay’s wholesome personality.

  “Thanks.” She pulled her beanie hat down as the wind gusted.

  “Go in and get warm.” Clay waved his hand before striding down the path.

  After giving the door a rap, she walked in. Mrs. Stryker sat at the desk facing the door. She looked up as Nell entered, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her brown eyes smiled as she recognized Nell.

  Despite her hard life—her husband had died on the oil fields when she was pregnant with her eighth child—she looked younger than Nell knew her to be.

  “Hi, Mrs. Stryker.”

  “Oh, honey. You just missed Clay by a few minutes.”

  “Actually, I was chatting with him outside.”

  “Oh.” Her smile grew bigger. “Come on in. The calendar might say spring, but North Dakota is always a little slow getting the memo.”

  “It’s definitely chilly out.” Nell walked in, pulling her gloves off. They were too big, but she wasn’t embarrassed by them. Well, except when that stranger in the fancy sports car changed her tire. That had made her try to shove them unobtrusively in her pocket. But Mrs. Stryker was a Sweet Water native. She’d understand about warmth trumping fashion.

  “I’m here to apply to be a server at the ball.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Stryker looked around her desk like she’d lost something. “I didn’t realize those brochures had gone out yet. I was told they wouldn’t go out until next month. Unless you heard about it from somewhere else?”

  “Um...” Nell reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a brochure.

  “Yes. That’s what I made on my computer. I guess they changed their minds about when they were going to distribute them.” She waved her hand in the air. “No matter. You want to apply?”

  “Sure do. Clay said I could put him down as a reference.”

  Mrs. Stryker laughed. “Like you need Clay to tell us that you’d be a wonderful employee.” She opened a drawer and brought out a folder. “Normally we have applications on the net, but I haven’t gotten that set up for this yet.”

  “Oh. If this isn’t a good time...”

  “Well.” Mrs. Stryker removed her glasses. “We do need servers and such for the ball. But currently what we really need is someone who will help clean the house from rafters to basement, and we have landscaping that needs to be done.” She gave a baleful look out the window. “Despite what the weather says. But it’s supposed to get warmer next week.” Her eyes came back to Nell. “I’ve heard you’re good with all of that. It seems like divine intervention brought you here today. Would you consider at least a temporary part-time position?”

  “Actually, Clay is going to talk to my stepdad on Sunday. I’m willing, and I’d love to work here.” Except... She swiped her beanie off her head, knowing her hair would stick up in all directions, but it was too warm inside to keep it on. “I don’t have a ride.” Her stepfather would never allow her to use the run-down car he left with them to ride back and forth, four hours a day.

  “Oh.” Mrs. Stryker tapped a pen on the desk, thinking.

  Nell’s heart thumped slowly and painfully. She could sneak it. Her stepfather might never find out if she could get Bethany to keep her mouth shut, but she hated sneaking.

  Her head jerked up at the sound of quick footsteps. “Mrs. Stryker, I need you to...” The man’s voice trailed off as he slowed to a stop, his eyes on Nell.

  Nell knew her jaw hung down, but she couldn’t get the presence of mind to close it. The man who had changed her tire several days ago had just walked into the Sweet Valley Ranch office. He’d given her the brochure, and maybe she should have put it all together, but the way he was dressed...he just hadn’t seemed like a ranch hand.

  He no longer wore his expensive suit and jacket. In her opinion, he definitely looked better in the jeans and button-down shirt. His shoulders looked broader. His hips more narrow. His jaw sharper. Better with the dust shadow of stubble on it.

  She wasn’t sure he recognized her, because nothing resembling recognition showed in his eyes. Although he stared.

  Did she have some kind of big spot on her face?

  Her hand reached up to pat her head. Her heart dipped. She’d forgotten about her hat making her hair stick up all over. With the static, there was no way she was getting it to lay down. Might as well pretend she didn’t care, since there was no way she could pretend to have styled it that way on purpose.

  “What were you saying, Mr. Peterson?” Mrs. Stryker asked.

  “Did someone need a ride?” Mr. Peterson asked. His dark hair was long enough to have been combed to the side, with just a bit of a wave in it. His eyes were dark and intelligent, staring at her.

  Mrs. Stryker looked at Nell over her glasses.

  When neither of them spoke, Mrs. Stryker said, “We were just talking about hiring Nell, who is a local girl and will help clean and do landscaping, but she needs a ride.” Her lips pressed together, and Nell got the distinct impression if she hadn’t been there, Mrs. Stryker would have a few things to say about her stepdad.

  “I can do it.” Mr. Peterson’s face did not match his words. With the long nose of an aristocrat, and the slightly lifted brows that gave his face the look of an English lord surveying his property, he didn’t really seem like anyone’s taxi driver either. His words seemed to surprise n
ot only Mrs. Stryker but himself as well.

  He looked the same way he did when he handed the shoebox to her on the side of the road. Like he knew what he was doing, but not why, and wasn’t able to stop himself.

  Mrs. Stryker’s brows lifted, but she said, “That’s great. Clay is going out on Sunday to talk to Nell’s stepfather, and I guess you can go along if you want so you’ll know where she lives.”

  “Yes.” Again, he didn’t seem to be in complete control of what he was saying. Either that, or he had some really odd facial expressions in his repertoire.

  “How far away do you live?” Mr. Peterson asked.

  “Two hours west,” Nell said automatically.

  “You don’t want to stay full-time?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then let’s work it out so you’re here Monday through Thursday.”

  “If my stepdad is okay with that.” Technically, she was at the age where she could do whatever she wanted, and had been for six years. But she’d done whatever he’d told her to in order to be able to stay and take care of her mother who had just died last fall. She supposed she hadn’t gotten out of the habit of appeasing him. Mostly because she’d promised her mother she’d look after Vinton. She couldn’t do that if her step dad got mad at her and kicked her out.

  Which reminded her. “Is it okay if I bring my half brother with me? He’s nine.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Peterson said with assurance.

  Mrs. Stryker’s brows climbed up even farther.

  Nell felt her own brows shift.

  “You’ll still have to fill out an application so we have it on file,” Mrs. Stryker said.

  Nell nodded, and shoving her hat under her arm, she took the pen and papers from her hand. Mr. Peterson’s eyes stayed on her, making her stomach waver like bird feathers in the wind.

  Nell sat on the chair against the wall, her head bent over, trying to concentrate on the questions on the application.

  “What did you need, Mr. Peterson?” Mrs. Stryker asked

  “I told you, you can call me Ryder.” The man shifted, his hand pushing though his hair like he was uncomfortable. “I need the records from our Certified Humane inspections.”

  “Sure. I have them in the storage room.” Mrs. Stryker stood. “I’ll be right back with them.” She strode out.

  Nell wished Mrs. Stryker would have stayed. She kept her head down, focusing on writing her name for the seventeenth time, very conscious of the man who stood just a few feet away.

  “That tire held out?”

  His voice startled her. She kept her head down until her face was composed. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “I wondered if you made it to where you were going. I guess you did.”

  The cut of his words sounded East Coast to her. Not Boston or Maine, but somewhere out there where the people with money lived.

  She couldn’t forget his soft hands. Even now, his jeans weren’t the same brand that most of the guys here in North Dakota picked up at the hardware store. They looked like something fancier and a lot more expensive. Plus, she didn’t know any man who actually combed and styled his hair. No point when one was just going to stick a hat on it.

  With that, she remembered her own messy mop. She had combed it this morning but hadn’t done anything more than push it over to the side so it stayed out of her eyes. Her beanie had negated even that small attempt at personal grooming.

  She couldn’t do anything about her hair. But she did remember her manners. “Thanks for the shoes. They’re beautiful.” It was hard to admit they were the most beautiful thing she’d ever owned. He could figure out with one pass of his eyes that she wasn’t blessed with an abundance of money, in case he missed the memo when he saw the old beater pickup she drove. She pressed her mouth shut.

  “Then I gave them to the right girl.”

  Her head jerked up at his tender words.

  His eyes were open wide, like he’d shocked himself. She almost thought that if he could take his lips off and examine them, he’d be doing that now.

  Her swallow sounded like thunder in the absolute quiet of the little office.

  “Good?” She wasn’t sure what to say.

  Like he needed a subject change, he asked abruptly, “Why do you need your stepdad’s permission? You look like you’re over eighteen.”

  Thankfully she had just finished the last question on the application, and she stood. She didn’t want to be rude. This man probably wasn’t going to be her boss, but if he truly was going to give her rides, then they needed to get along. However, she didn’t need to get into a long explanation with him about her mother, and how her step father’s drinking had worsened after she died and how she’d promised her mother she’d take care of Vinton. Nor of the way her step sisters had taken advantage of her precarious position in the home.

  “I’m twenty-four, but as long as I live in his house, it seems like the courteous thing to do.” That so did not answer his question, but it was true. He seemed to accept it.

  Mrs. Stryker came back in, holding a folder, which she handed to Ryder. “This contains all our humane information.”

  “Thank you.” He took the folder. Then, as though he couldn’t help it, he looked at Nell. “Do you have a ride now?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t elaborate.

  “Okay. I’ll see you Sunday.”

  Chapter 4

  Nell stepped into the door of her home, still a little bemused. She wasn’t sure what Mr. Peterson’s job at Sweet Water was. Since Clay was the foreman, it couldn’t be that, but it was something that was pretty high up there, she supposed.

  Whatever it was, she would be riding with him. Sunday. If the talk with her stepfather went well. She wasn’t getting her hopes up over that.

  “Nell! Nell! Nell’s home.”

  “Ugh, Vinny. Keep it down. I have a headache.” Bethany’s voice came from the living room. “Plus you might wake Dad up.”

  Nell thought not. When he was home, usually by this time of the evening he was deep enough into the bottle that he wasn’t waking up for anything.

  He didn’t used to be like that. Yeah, he’d always favored his daughters over her, but he hadn’t been a drinker and he’d been a decent father. Until her mother’s cancer came back a couple of years ago.

  Vinton’s smile didn’t fade as he raced across the kitchen and slammed into Nell, his strong little arms going around her waist. He had so much of their mother in him. Her blond hair, her delicate ears, even his long fingers came from their mother.

  Nell caught him, juggling the box in her hand, picking him up, and swinging him around. “I missed you, buddy.”

  “And I missed you,” Brittany said from over by the stove. “I hate it when you’re gone because I stink at cooking.” She waved the spatula in the air. “You can have your job back.”

  Nell didn’t mind. Someone had to do it. And what else was she going to do anyway? Maybe she could sneak reading a book, but she’d stick to one of the paperback ones they had that she’d read a thousand times. She didn’t have a phone or any electronic device to read on, although a couple of times, Brittney had allowed her to borrow the phone she and Bethany shared and read on it.

  The last time that happened, Bethany had found out before Nell was finished with the book and taken the device from her. She still hadn’t found out how the story had ended. She’d made up an ending in her head, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying as reading it. As much as she loved reading, she didn’t want to not be able to finish a book again.

  “Yeah, there’s clothes in the washer that need to be switched, too.” Bethany came over to the doorway to the living room and leaned against it. “Make sure you get it done tonight, because Reggie is taking me out tomorrow night and I want the pants that are in there.”

  “I thought Tom said you weren’t allowed to go out with Reggie?” Nell set Vinton down and ruffled his hair before taking her boots and coat off.

  “He did. But I told Reggie to wait fo
r me to text him, which I’ll do as soon as Dad passes out, which will be earlier than usual because I’ll make his beer runs.” She walked to the refrigerator and opened the door. “I’ve got them chilling now.” She pointed her finger at Brittney. “Don’t touch them.”

  “No way.” Brittney shivered. “The stuff tastes like the garbage can smells in summer.”

  “It actually doesn’t taste too bad once you get used to it.”

  Nell’s eyes popped open. She hadn’t realized that Bethany had done any drinking. After seeing how her father had drunk away most of the salary from his oil well job, Nell couldn’t believe Bethany wouldn’t hate how that addiction had kept their family in the poorhouse.

  It was hard for Nell to resent him, though, since the drinking hadn’t been a problem until her mother had gotten sick the second time. She supposed, in her romantic fantasies, there was something sweetly soul-wrenching about a man who was so torn up about his wife’s death. Tom and she had that in common—they’d both loved her mother.

  Vinton’s mother too. Bethany and Brittney were Tom’s children from his first, failed marriage.

  “The next time Elaine asks you to watch her kids, you need to tell her no.” Brittney set the spatula on the counter and collapsed into a chair. “There is too much work to do when you leave.”

  “Did anything happen while I was gone?” Nell asked, picking the box up inconspicuously and walking over to the stove.

  “Nope. Just the same old boring crap, different day. Winter is still unending, and it’s still freezing outside.” Bethany came fully into the kitchen and plopped down in another chair.

  “Unless it thaws a little, and then there’s mud,” Brittney added.

  Nell turned the meat on the stove down a little. “Well, I have a surprise.” She set the brochure down on the table.

  Her sisters both reached for it, but as always, Bethany was faster.

  She scanned it quickly. “A ball?” Normally she was a bit sarcastic and jaded, but her eyes lit up like Vinton’s had when Nell came home. “This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in North Dakota in...forever.”