The Cowboy's Housekeeper

by Lori Copeland

  He chuckled when the door closed with a resounding bang.

  Taking a seat in the large leather chair behind his desk, he settled a benign gaze on Jessica.

  “Jessie, dear”—his voice was so kind—“we are so sorry about your loss. And so close together.” He shook his head sadly. “There wasn’t a finer pair of people on earth as far as Mama and I were concerned.” He stood and walked over to the window, gazing out at the street. “When you live to be Mama’s and my age, it seems you spend half your time burying the people you love and have spent most of your life with.”

  He stood for a moment with a faraway look in his eyes—eyes that didn’t quite have the brightness they used to have. With a slight shrug of his stooped shoulders he turned back to the business of living. He cleared his throat, shuffled through a short stack of papers lying before him, and began.

  “My dear, this should basically be very simple. As you know, all Fred and Rainey had will be yours.” He sat back down at his desk. For the first time Jessica could ever recall, he had a rather sheepish look on his face.

  “There is only one small stipulation to the will that Fred and Rainey executed a few weeks before Fred graduated to Heaven.” He glanced up at Jessica and continued. “I don’t imagine you’re going to care much for it.”

  Jessica couldn’t imagine what the judge meant. She clutched the arms of the chair, bracing herself for what was to come.

  He began to explain the details of the will. “Land, house, material possessions, etc., etc., all to go to you with the stipulation that you return to run the farm for six months. Make certain everything is disposed of properly or left in good hands, if you sell out. If you decide to return to Austin immediately, then the entire estate will be left to Manor Methodist Church, where, as you know, Fred and Rainey had been members for over fifty years.”

  Heat crept up her neck and sudden rage simmered within her. How dare they play God with her life again! She was an adult—perfectly capable of controlling her destiny. She jumped to her feet and stormed over to the large window that looked out on the main street. “How could they do it?” she demanded. “Why did they do it?”

  “Why?” the judge said gently. “Because they loved you, Jessie. They simply could not stand the thought of you never coming back to the home and land they had loved. They have waited patiently all these years, hoping you’d return”—the judge cleared his throat before continuing—“and that you’d forgiven them. The matter of you and Jason weighed heavily on their minds—how they interfered when perhaps—just perhaps they shouldn’t have.”

  “It should have,” Jessica replied in a rare show of hurt feelings, “but they knew I had forgiven them.” Not really, her heart cried. Not completely, but the past was forgotten. “How am I going to run that farm and my business at the same time? Ask me about fashion, and I can tell you anything you want to know. But farming? I know very little about manure and grain.”

  “Oh, right. Rainey said you had become quiet the entrepreneur. Ladies fancy jeans, isn’t it?”

  “Fancy Duds.”

  “Fancy Duds? My, my. I’ll have to get Mama a pair.”

  Jessica caught back a laugh when the image of Wilma flashed through her mind wearing the skin-tight denim with a row of sequins on the back pockets.

  The idea for Fancy Duds was conceived in the dressing room of a department store in an Austin mall during her sophomore year at the university. Her roommates had roped her into a shopping trip to help Ginny Lou find an outfit for a date to her first rodeo. The hat, blouse, and boots had been easy to find, but jeans? Jessica and Barb sat outside the dressing room and critiqued each pair Ginny Lou tried.

  “Ick, no.” Barb scrunched her nose at a baggy pair.

  Jessica agreed. “Looks like you could fit an elephant in there with you.”

  With an expansive eye-roll, Ginny Lou stomped back into the dressing room, only to appear a few minutes later wearing another pair.

  “Hmmm.” Barb tapped a finger against her lips as she examined the fit. “A possibility.”

  Jessica circled Ginny Lou, tugging at the waistband, fingering the side-seam. “These would work, but they’re so…” She searched for a word. “Plain.”

  Barb’s finger pointed at her. “Exactly. They’re snug enough to hug your curves, but they do nothing to emphasize your best feature.”

  A cautious question appeared on Ginny Lou’s face. “And that would be?”

  Jessica exchanged a grin with Barb. “Your posterior, sweetie. What you need is some bling back here.” She hooked a finger through the rear belt loop and tugged, an idea materializing. “You know what? I think I can come up with just the thing. A handful of glittery beads, a few rhinestone studs. And one of my—” She waved a hand expansively in the air with a grin full of bluster—“incredible designs.”

  “She’s right,” Barb agreed with a nod. “Her designs are amazing. This might be the perfect use for her doodles. Unless she wants to become a tattoo designer.”

  They all snorted with laughter.

  “Okay.” A smile curved Ginny Lou’s mouth. “I’ll buy these jeans and place them in your capable hands. Just make me look like a million bucks, okay?”

  Those jeans had been the start of a craze that not only paid Jessica’s way through college, but had begun to earn some real money in recent years. And Aunt Raney and Uncle Fred wanted her to put her business aside for six months to run a farm?

  The judge shuffled a stack of papers on his desk, seeming to search for the right words. Finally, tossing the papers aside he said, “Fred suggested you hire Jason to do it.”

  “What?” Jessica’s mouth gaped in shock.

  “Now think about it for a minute, Jessica. The plan could make a whole lot of sense. Jason’s one of the biggest ranchers around right now. His property adjoins yours, plus he’s got the manpower to run both ranches. And—to tell you the truth, I don’t know of another man around I would trust or even recommend doing the job for you.”

  Jessica stood in front of his wooden desk, speechless. Finally able to find her tongue, she said in a determined voice, “Even if I would think about anything that preposterous, Judge Baker, I’m sure Jason would laugh himself into a hysterical fit at the asinine suggestion. My gosh, you do realize we didn’t exactly part best friends? “

  “Oh, now, Jessica,” the judge admonished laughingly, “that was a long time ago. You are two reasonable adults now, more than able to conduct a simple business arrangement—which is all this would be.”

  Jessica snorted in a very unladylike way. “Maybe Jason’s wife wouldn’t care for the suggestion.”

  “Wife? That boy hasn’t married and settled down yet. I’d be surprised if he ever does.” He shuffled the papers into a neat stack. “Now I’ve promised Rainey I’d help you through this time and I suggest you take a few days to think this over. As soon as you calm down, I’m sure you’ll view the situation differently.”

  She jutted her chin forward. “I can say with certainty I don’t want the farm. Give it to the church.”

  Though the older man’s expression did not change, disapproval wafted off him in waves. “Very well. I will call and inform the church that everything Fred and Rainey worked and toiled all of their life to achieve will go to that establishment.”

  Jessica’s firm lower jaw trembled. Long winters on the farm when Fred had waded in hip-deep snow to break ice to feed the cattle. Rainey fussing with the old washing machine because she didn’t want to spend the money for a new one. “Jessie might need it,” she would say. Fred did without a new truck in order to tuck a little aside, and Rainey wore the same old dresses to church for years. Giving all to the church was noble idea—so noble that Jessica liked the idea of honoring Rainey and Fred’s thoughtfulness. But she had plans for that money. Once her new clothing line launched, she would donate a percentage of the profits to her aunt and uncle's church.

  But she would not be manipulated!

  “Fine.”
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  “Fine.” The judge glanced up. “If you change your mind, you’ll let me know?”

  She shouldered her purse and looked him in the eye. “I won’t change my mind.”

  Three

  As Jessica let herself out into the hot afternoon air, her mind was spinning in a thousand directions. What was she supposed to do now? Even if she had wanted to come home, even if she hated the big city, the traffic, the crime, the judge’s suggestion was the principle of the thing! She had more money now than she ever dreamed. She didn’t need the inheritance. But that farm was all Fred and Rainey had in life.

  Now that her emotions had cooled, she realized her choice was fixed. She either did as the will stated and dealt with Mr. High and Mighty Rawlings or give away what Fred and Rainey worked all their lives to accomplish.

  She literally stomped her foot in a fit of anger before climbing behind the wheel of the truck, still puffing inside. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  Swiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, she reached down to turn the key in the ignition. “Don’t you give me any trouble. I’m not in the mood for it!” The old motor groaned to life reluctantly. She threw the gear shift into reverse and shot out of the driveway like a missile. That darn gas pedal! She struggled wildly to get the truck under control. To her mounting horror, the motor gave one long backfire, and with a surge of speed that left her breathless, careened out onto the street backward, heading straight toward one of the late-model pickups sitting idling in front of the feed store.

  Jessica closed her eyes tight and jammed her foot on the brake. She felt the bone-jarring jolt and the sickening screech of bending metal as the truck came to an abrupt halt, sitting halfway through the side of the dark-blue pickup. She opened her eyes slowly and released a shaky breath. Not a sound could be heard for a few moments beyond a ringing in her ears as she sat there trying to gather her wits about her. Voices jarred her out of her paralyzed state as people around her started moving.

  “My lordy, are you hurt, little lady?” cried Luther, a man who worked at the feed store. He added in an excited voice, “Boy, we can sure thank our lucky stars there was no one around this here truck just now. Why, when I looked up and saw you a flyin’ out of that driveway like a bat out of hell—oh, pardon me, ma’am, but as I was saying, I looked up, and then I sez to ol’ Jason, ‘Man, someone’s just bought you a new truck!’”

  “Jason?” Oh, good heavens, that was all she needed. Please, God, don’t let this be his truck. But the thought had barely left her mind when her eyes caught the figure of a tall, dark, ridiculously good-looking man striding toward her. He stopped directly in front of the front bumper and planted his hands on his slim hips. Taking one despairing look at his truck, he turned back around slowly and fixed his brilliant jade-green gaze on her.

  Jessica smiled beguilingly as her words of long ago came back home to her. She had always vowed that someday she would make Jason Rawlings notice her again. Well, the day had arrived.

  She tumbled out of the truck, her face feeling as red as a beet. How could she have hit his pickup when there were half-dozen others sitting around? By this time Jason was squatting on the ground, apparently trying to access the damage beneath his truck. Jessica could see clearly beneath the vehicle from where she stood, and she was sure he would not like what he saw. There were all kinds of odds and ends dangling from the frame.

  He straightened and glanced at Jessica, who stood silently watching the chaos. The humidity of the hot afternoon had plastered her hair to her cheeks and neck. She swiped strands away from her eyes and heard him say in a dry tone, “I sure hope you don’t teach driver’s ed up there in Austin.”

  “Of course not,” she snapped. Then she glanced around sheepishly to see who was listening to the conversation.

  “Well.” Jason’s gaze switched back to the truck, “I hope you have good insurance.” He glanced at her again. “You have insurance, don’t you?”

  “Certainly, I have insurance.” Her secretary took care of such things, but Celeste was competent. “Yes. I—I think I do,” she amended, feeling as though she was fifteen and in love with the guy again.

  He gave her a tolerant look. “When do you think you might know—for sure? I drove this off the dealer’s lot two hours ago.”

  “You just bought it?” Her heart sank. Drawing a deep breath, she started over. “What I mean is, I’m sure I do on my other car. I’ll call my agent as soon as I get home and check. She’d fluffed off the insurance offer at the car rental. “I assure you, Jason, your truck will be taken care of,” she said in her school-teacher-chastising-a-naughty-child voice. He must think I’m an idiot! “Look, I’m really sorry about this. It’s that darn gas pedal on Fred’s truck. It keeps sticking on me.” Heat burned in her cheeks. “I certainly didn’t single your truck out, you know. I made every effort to avoid hitting it—and I could have been hurt, you know,” she accused, feeling as wrong as gravy on potato salad.

  Jason turned his direct, clear gaze back to roam her appearance. “Were you?”

  “Was I what?” she shot back, slightly unnerved by his bold appraisal.

  “Were you hurt?”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “Do I look like I’m hurt?”

  A tiny, infuriating grin appeared as he observed. “No, little Jessie, your fine as a pretty patch of sunflowers.”

  There it was, that “little Jessie” bit.

  “Look,” he said brusquely, “I haven’t got all day to haggle. I’m late for an appointment right now.”

  Jessica’s knees turned to rubber now that his gaze had left her. She eyed his truck and decided the damage was great. She turned back to address him.

  “What will you do? You can’t drive it like that, can you?”

  He frowned. “I doubt it. It doesn’t look drivable.”

  “Want me to call a tow truck?”

  A fella called from the storefront. “I’d make that the junk yard. That’s where it’s headed.” Male laughter filled the air.

  Heat flooded her cheeks again. “Looks like Fred’s old bumper is only dented. Can I…” She swallowed against a dry throat. “Drop you somewhere?”

  “If you’re going my way. I was due at the bank ten minutes ago. When I’m through, I’ll have one of my men pick me up. Jim, can you call a wrecker?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Jason reached up to remove the large Stetson and wipe sweat from his brow.

  Jessica’s heart caught in her throat as her eyes involuntarily drank in the mass of thick, golden-brown hair, which by now was nearly blond from endless hours in the hot Texas sun. Her eyes traveled slowly down the cut of the blue western shirt that was moistly molded to his broad, thick chest and the tight-fitting jeans, which made Jessica only too aware of an older, leaner, harder man than the one she had loved so fiercely eight years ago. The familiar weak longing crept over her as she forced her attention back to his words. She blushed hotly as she encountered a pair of lazy green eyes mockingly aware of her less-than-benign assessment of him.

  He opened the door and stepped into the passenger side. Awkward moments passed until Jessica cleared her throat. “Sorry about your truck.” Other than a tire rubbing the front fender Fred’s truck was hardly touched.

  “Material things. No one was hurt. There’s four more like it sitting at the dealer.”

  That was Jason. Unusually calm. Competent. Independent. You would think he’d be a little rattled seeing her after all these years.

  The stipulation of her aunt and uncle’s will rang like a bell in her mind. Before she could second-guess herself, a question popped out.

  “Would it be possible for you to stop by the house tonight?” Jessica bit her tongue to overcome the humiliation that swamped her. Did she seriously intend to discuss the will’s stipulation? Well…maybe. It would be in a question form only. No commitments, just a question.

  Surprise colored his features. “Come by your house tonight? Why?”

>   The temperature must have risen ten degrees in the cab. Perspiration trickled down her back. “A small matter came up that I need to discuss with you, if you could spare a few minutes.” This was bad. He was staring at her as if she had just escaped the looney bin.

  “Is this something we could settle now?”

  Jessica shot back. “I would need more than fifteen seconds to say what I have to say.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll be by around seven.”

  Indecision nagged her. She was tired of eating dinner alone. There was no law that stated she couldn’t have dinner with an old acquaintance. If he agreed to this crazy notion of helping her for the next six months—and that was a big if—then likely there would be plenty of cold sandwiches and hot coffee in their immediate future. Clearing her throat lightly, she added, “Marcy is welcome to come with you.”

  “Marcy Evans?”

  “Is there another Marcy in town?”

  He turned with a blank expression. “Why would Marcy Evans be coming with me?”

  “Aunt Rainey said that you two were an item.”

  “Really. Huh.” He shook his head. We hang out every once in a while, go to a movie, eat dinner but there’s nothing territorial between me and Marcy.” He adjusted the brim of his hat. “Is that what folks think? Me and Marcy?”

  “According to Aunt Rainey—but we haven’t talked about you in years.” That was a bit of a stretch but close to the truth.

  “I’ll bring Sweet Thing.” When he didn’t add to the information, she let the subject drop, hoping he hadn’t detected that brief—but no doubt evident—dip of her forehead. At least dreadful Marcy was out of the immediate picture.

  He turned to grin at her, his strong white teeth flashing in his bronze face. “Want me to bring dinner? I can stop by the café and have Melba make a couple of meatloaf sandwiches.”