Coreen Tarleton Regan opened the door quietly, having heard the muffled sobs from the hallway. She sat down on the bed beside her best friend and slowly gathered her in her arms.
"I hate him," Sandy sniffed, savagely wiping away tears. "He's an idiot!"
"Yes, I know," Coreen said with a gentle smile. She pulled a tissue from the box beside the bed and handed it to Sandy. "Dry your eyes. Ted's sent him to Victoria for the rest of the day, to pick up some herd records at the office there."
"Good! I hope aliens kidnap him on the way back!"
"Now, now, think how we'd miss him around here."
"I wouldn't!"
Coreen's blue eyes smiled. "Didn't it ever occur to you that he might like you? All these little snips could be nothing more than a way to attract your attention."
Sandy's red-rimmed eyes glared at her. "No."
"He used to be your shadow," Coreen persisted. "Until you went away to college, at least."
"My keeper, you mean," she muttered. "Even then, he was making fun of me, putting me down."
"You're very intelligent. Maybe he felt threatened."
"He's intelligent enough," Sandy replied with a muffled cough. "He just doesn't like women who are smart. I heard what he just said to Ted downstairs. He said that all he wanted was a bunch of kids who didn't know one end of a computer from the other." Her eyes flashed. "As if I'd want kids with a man like that!"
Coreen just patted her shoulder, trying not to look as helpless as she felt. She wondered if Sandy knew how transparent her feelings for Jobe really were. Probably not, or she'd be horribly embarrassed. Sandy thought of herself as impervious to Jobe. Actually it was pretty much the reverse. Coreen, herself a veteran of turbulent relationships, knew exactly how her best friend felt.
"You feel lousy, don't you?" Coreen asked gently. "Why don't you try to sleep for a little while?"
"That might be a good idea." She forced a smile. "You're the best friend I ever had, you know."
"You're the best friend I ever had," Coreen replied warmly. "Don't you worry, if worse comes to worse, I'll help you push Jobe into a shark-infested ocean somewhere and I'll swear I don't have a clue where he is."
Sandy grinned through her tears. "Now that's real friendship."
Coreen nodded. "Exactly what I thought!"
But if Sandy had hoped that a day's absence would improve her situation, she was badly mistaken. Jobe came back from Victoria in a foul temper and avoided Sandy for the rest of the week. That suited her, because it gave her time to get a little better before she began the arduous job of teaching Jobe how to use a computer.
He presented himself in Ted's office the following Monday looking like a man facing imminent execution.
Sandy, in slacks and a tube top, had her hair in a bun and was cool and comfortable, at least on the surface. Jobe was wearing jeans and boots and a long-sleeved red-checked shirt. He looked the image of a rodeo cowboy. Sandy knew for a fact that he could ride anything on the place, from a bull to Ted's meanest stallion.
It amused her a little that he always buttoned his shirts to the top button. He was a modest man. She'd never seen him stripped to the waist or the least bit rumpled. Even his blond hair was neatly combed. He was one of the cleanest cowboys she'd ever known. Maybe that was an effort to make up for his nasty temper, she thought privately.
"All right," he said curtly. "Let's get to it."
"Sit down," Sandy invited, putting him in a chair in front of the computer.
He glared at it. "This is going to be a disaster," he muttered. "I'm not mechanical."
"Even you can't tear up this computer. It's almost foolproof."
"Where's the switch?" he asked, frowning at the console.
"This entire complex plugs into a surge spike. You push the red button, here, on the strip," she demonstrated, "and everything comes on, including the printer."
He watched the screen. "There's nothing there," he said pointedly.
"Give it a minute."
They waited and the menu came up.
"See?" she said, smiling. "Now take a look at the options. What you want is here." She moved the cursor with the mouse to a particular box and clicked on it. A screen opened up with all Ted's herd records on it.
"Where did that come from?" he asked.
"I typed it in while you were away last week. This is only a partial listing. You'll have to do the rest when you have time. Now this is how you select options and make changes."
It was slow going. He'd never even played computer games before. It was like teaching a child, and every bit as aggravating. He hated every minute of it, and made his dislike apparent
"It's a waste of time," he said shortly when they'd gone through the preliminaries six times. "I keep all these records in my head. I can tell you everything there is to tell about any particular breeding cow on the place, and every bull to boot."
"I know that," she replied calmly. Jobe's memory was legendary. "But what if you get sick or have to go away? Who knows it then?"
He shrugged. "Nobody." He glanced at her. "Is Ted planning on firing me?” he asked cannily. "Is that why he wants all this on a computer?"
She grinned. "He's waited a long time, hasn't he? You were working here before I went away to college."
"So I was." He didn't like being reminded. It showed. He looked back at the computer screen. "Now that we've made changes, how do we keep them there?"
She showed him how to save the file and then how to pull it back out again.
He sighed. "Well, I guess I'll get used to it eventually."
"Sure you will," she assured him. "It's not hard. Even little kids do it. They grow up with computers now."
"One day," he murmured, "the power will all go off, and nobody will know how to do math or write. Civilization will vanish in a heartbeat, and all because people trusted machines to do the work."
She hesitated. "Well, maybe not right away," she said.
He looked up at her with narrow gray eyes. "How am I supposed to supervise the daily operation of this place, and the ranch in Victoria, and input all these damned records at the same time?"
Sandy pursed her lips and whistled. "I wonder if Ted thought about that?" she mused. She studied his lean face. "Do you really need to sleep and eat?"
"Yes."
"In that case, I guess Ted is going to have to hire somebody with computer experience to put the records in files."
"I guess he is."
"We'll advertise..."
"No need," Jobe said, getting to his feet "Missy Harvey just graduated from the technical school with a diploma in computer programming. She needs a job and she's fun to have around."
"Ted will have to decide about that," Sandy said stiffly, because she knew that Jobe had been dating Missy on and off for a few weeks.
"I'll speak to him," Jobe said, and walked out.
Sandy stared after him with confusing emotions. She didn't want Missy here, in this house. But what sort of protest would she be able to make without sounding like a jealous shrew? As if she'd be jealous of Jobe! Ha!
All the same, when Jobe mentioned it to Ted at supper that night, Coreen shot a quick look at Sandy.
"We wouldn't need her permanently," Jobe emphasized. "But I can't handle what I have to do every day and spend several weeks typing in herd records one letter at a time, too."
Ted was frowning thoughtfully. "I didn't consider that," he said after a minute. He glanced in Sandy's direction. "I don't suppose you'd like to do it?"
She grimaced. "I've already taken all my sick days for the year, Ted," she confessed.
"I have to go back to work or I could lose my job."
"God forbid," Jobe murmured nastily. She shot a vicious look his way. "I love my job as much as you love yours," she replied. "Stop baiting me."
He slammed his fork down on the table, gray eyes blazing. “You're the one who does the baiting, honey."
"Don't call me honey! It's demeaning!"
/> Jobe stood up, bristling with anger. "To you, just being a woman is demeaning," he said icily, ignoring Ted's glare. "You don't have a clue, do you? You dress like a man, work like a man, think like a man. Hell, you even act like a man. You always have to know more, do more, than any man on the place!"
She stood up, too, shaking with fury. "Not any man," she said, correcting him. "You! I have to be better than you!"
"Sandy," Ted said warningly.
"Oh, why try to protect him?" she demanded, throwing down her napkin. "He started it, making hurtful remarks and downgrading me when I was barely sixteen. To hear him tell it, I couldn't do anything!" She lowered her voice. "Well, I'm twenty-six now, and I can do a hell of a lot of things that he can't. And if you want to know, it feels really good to get to talk down to Jobe Almighty Dodd for a change!"
Jobe's high cheekbones had gone a ruddy color as he glared at Sandy. "That'll be the day, when you can talk down to me, lady," he returned.
"It isn't hard to do, when you can't tell the difference between the enter key and the delete key on a computer!" she said with a haughty smile.
He didn't have a comeback. He gave her a look that could fry bread, turned on his heel and left the room without another word.
Sandy, still shaking, stared after him with a sick, empty feeling.
"That," Ted remarked, "was the worst mistake you've ever made. You don't ridicule a man like Jobe."
"Why not?" she raged, near tears. "He ridicules me all the time!"
"Sit down."
She sat, defeated, deflated, tired to the bone.
Ted leaned forward on his elbows and glanced at his wife, who seemed to understand what he was feeling-as usual.
"Sandy, Jobe's mother was a scientist," he said quietly.
"Ted, no," Coreen tried to head him off.
He held up a hand. "She needs to know." He looked back to his sister's fixed expression. "Jobe's mother worked in nuclear research. His father was a cowboy, like he is, who knew the weather and animals and not much more. His mother had several degrees and spent his young life making his father feel stupid and inadequate. She did it so well that he shot himself when Jobe was ten."
Sandy thought she might faint. She picked up her glass of iced tea and pressed it to her cheek. "Oh, my God," she whispered.
"It didn't even seem to bother her," Ted
recalled coldly. "Not even when Jobe packed
his bag and went to live at the juvenile hall."
"I thought you had to be arrested and sent
there," Sandy ventured.
"Bingo," Ted said, smiling humorlessly. "He stole a horse and even though the owner wouldn't press charges, he was arrested and arraigned. His mother didn't want him-not intelligent enough to stay with her, she said- so the state provided for him until he was old enough to get a job and go to work. He's been here ever since." His face was colder than his sister had ever seen it. "Pity you didn't ask me why I wanted you to teach him to use a computer. The herd records could have waited, but Jobe was losing ground with the men because most of them are more computer literate than he is."
Sandy put her face in her hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Tell him, not me," Ted said relentlessly.
"She didn't know, Ted," Coreen interjected. She got up and put her arms around Sandy. "I don't suppose either of us thought you needed to know," she told the other woman.
Sandy brushed away tears. "He isn't stupid," she said angrily. "His mother must have realized that!"
"She didn't want him in the first place," Ted said sadly. "She was one of those strait-laced people who put appearances before everything, and she'd had a major fling with a cowboy and got herself pregnant. She married him only to please her parents and friends, and made him pay for it every day he lived."
"Where is she now?" Sandy asked.
"Nobody knows. Jobe never speaks of her." He shook his head. "It's a good thing you don't like him, I suppose, in the circumstances. Because he'll never forgive what you said today."
Sandy felt sicker. She averted her eyes. Coreen handed her a handkerchief and patted her back awkwardly, giving Ted a helpless look over Sandy's bent head.
"You'll hire Missy, I guess?" Sandy asked without looking up.
"Yes," Ted said flatly. "She's the kind of woman who builds a man up. She'll repair the damage you did, and then some. She's a gentle soul."
"I wouldn't have said that Jobe needed a gentle woman," Sandy said through her teeth.
Ted cocked his head and stared at her. "How would you know what he needs?" he asked. "You've never cared a hoot what he did."
"I suppose not." She shifted in the chair and uncrossed her legs. "Missy doesn't like me."
"I'm not surprised," Ted replied. "She thinks Jobe's sweet on you."
Sandy's heart leaped. "Do you?"
Ted laughed. "You're better off not knowing what he says when you aren't around. You've damaged his pride, but no woman can touch his heart. They say his mother buried it alive."
Sandy put down the handkerchief Coreen had given her, slumping a little. "I didn't mean to put it like that. He's always attacking me. I just had enough, that's all."
"Oh, I'm not protecting him," Ted remarked. "Jobe can take care of himself. But hitting below the belt is pretty low."
"I won't do it again."
"You won't get the chance," her brother predicted. "I don't imagine he'll let you within clawing distance a second time." He gave her a curious look. "As for Missy, I think you can handle anything she can dish out, can't you?"
She smiled back at him. "I guess so. I'm your sister, after all."
Ted's remark about Jobe's attitude toward his sister turned out to be a pretty accurate prediction. Jobe never mentioned what Sandy had said to him, but his manner changed overnight. He treated her the same way he treated Ted, with courtesy and respect, but nothing more. Even the old antagonism was gone. Apparently, he'd decided to be indifferent.
Missy wasn't. Her devotion to Jobe was evident the minute she stepped into a room with him. Her long straight black hair fell in a curtain around her oval face and big brown eyes. She had a pretty mouth and a nice smile, and although she was very thin, she wasn't unpleasant to look at.
But she didn't like Sandy, and it showed.
She listened silently while Sandy told her what she would be expected to do. She didn't have to speak; her eyes said plenty.
Sandy was dressed for work, in an expensive gray silk suit with neat little plain low-heeled shoes and her hair in a French pleat. She handed the last of Ted's files to Missy and looked around to see if she'd forgotten anything.
"If you have any questions and you can't find Ted, Coreen will know where to look for him," she assured the young woman.
"If I have any questions, I'll ask Jobe," Missy said coolly without looking at her. "After all, he's the boss around here, not you- Oh!"
She gasped as Sandy caught the back of her chair and swung it around sharply. "You work for the Regans," Sandy said curtly, "which makes me your boss as well." She leaned closer to the girl with threats in her whole posture. "You're only here because my brother wanted to do Jobe a favor. I don't owe Jobe any favors, so, given the least excuse, I'll shoot you out the door like a bomb," she added with a cold smile. "I hope that's clear." Missy, suddenly white-faced and shaking, nodded.
"Good," Sandy said, standing erect. Her eyes blazed at the younger woman.
"I'm sorry," Missy stammered.
Sandy didn't even answer her. She whirled and went through the door, almost colliding with Jobe.
He glanced past her at the tears running down Missy's cheeks. "Had your razor blades for breakfast, I see," he said coldly. "If you've got a problem in this office, take it up with me."
"This is my home," Sandy reminded him with fury. "And nobody here talks to me as if I were the family pet! You might relay that to your girlfriend. She seems to think she works for you."
She pushed past him and walked out, h
er face so red that she looked positively feverish.
Missy ran into Jobe's arms and cried. "She was hateful to me!" she whimpered.
He smoothed her dark hair involuntarily, fuming over Sandy's remarks. "It's okay. I'll protect you."
Missy snuggled closer with a sigh. "Oh, Jobe, you're so strong...!"
Sandy heard that last remark as she went up the staircase and she could have chewed nails. It was all an act, surely Jobe could see through it? Or, perhaps he couldn't. If his mother had been a strong, independent woman, a woman like Missy might appeal to him as an opposite type from his despised parent.
Well, Sandy had too much pride to act like a simpering simpleton for the benefit of any man. Since girlhood, Ted had taught her that she wasn't a second-class citizen. She was a Regan.
She packed her suitcase and went down to her car without sparing a glance for the office. Let Ted see how much work got done with Missy making eyes at the foreman every waking hour. When he'd had enough, Missy was going to find herself on the receiving end of much worse than Sandy had given her.
She didn't go back for a week, having traveled most of east Texas on business. She was worn to a frazzle when she pulled her small white sports car into the driveway at Ted's house and parked it. With her travel bag over one arm and her shoulder bag over the other, she marched up the front steps with weariness in every step.
She had her key in her hand, but the front door was unlocked. She pushed it open and went inside, closing it gently behind her in case the baby was asleep. Ted and Coreen got precious little time together these days while their son was cutting teeth.
A sound coming from Ted's office caught her attention. The door was open, and as she neared it, the sounds grew louder. They were unmistakable, even without the deliberate soft moan.
She stopped at the doorway, her eyes as cold as a winter sky. Missy was lying across Jobe's legs, her head in the crook of his arm. He looked up and saw Sandy standing there, and an odd expression crossed his handsome face.
"Oh, don't mind me," she drawled, all too aware of Missy's sudden, frantic haste to get to her feet and rearrange her clothing. "I gather that Ted is now paying the two of you to test the springs in his sofa."
She turned on her heel and went up the staircase, ignoring the stern voice calling her name.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 174
