by Jodi Thomas
“Fine,” he answered as he stepped into what was now his closet. “This place is bigger than my bedroom at home and there’s a dresser built in here.”
She didn’t answer, and he hoped she hadn’t heard. He was sounding like a hick. The walls began closing in on him and he fought to keep them at bay. Years of living in a cell so small he could almost touch the walls played on his mind and made him crave open spaces. Even a closet this big wasn’t a place he wanted to spend any time in.
Dropping the bags, he moved back to the door and took a deep breath. Air. He needed fresh air.
In three long strides he was at the wall of windows and noticed that none were built to open. What kind of idiot builds windows that don’t open?
Looking toward her closet door, he saw her standing among her colorful clothes. She’d stripped off her dress and was tugging on her jeans. The bra and panties were little more than lace.
Cord gave up breathing altogether. He’d seen pictures of women nude, movies with beautiful bodies, but nothing had ever affected him like the sight of Nevada. He couldn’t have turned away if she’d threatened death.
He watched her button her pants and then pull on a white T-shirt that fit like a second skin. Over the tee, she wiggled into an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder. Turning, she looked up and smiled. “Finished looking?”
He’d lost the power of speech, so he just stood as still as a tree.
What few brain cells he had left knew he should probably apologize, or something, but all he could get out was, “I . . . I . . .”
She walked past him and picked up her hat. “Look, Cord, we’re going to be living together for a while. We might as well get used to each other. I’ve never been shy and it’s nothing I’m sure you haven’t seen before.”
When he didn’t move, she added, “I’ll pack up some water and fruit while you collect your thoughts.”
With that she was gone. He felt like he was one of those backward people on Star Trek who got beamed up on the teleporter of the starship Enterprise. He couldn’t understand what was going on. Had she just told him it was all right for him to watch her dress? Hell, he felt a habit coming on.
When he finally found the new hat she’d bought him and made it to the front door, she was waiting for him. They were saddled up and riding full out before he could clear the vision of her standing in her underwear from his mind.
Nevada had obviously gotten over the view of him much faster, because she was rattling off facts about the ranch. She might not know anything about the day-to-day running of the place, but she knew its history.
She also knew how to ride across the open land and where all the watering holes and roads were. She could recite facts about the oil production that had been going on since long before she was born.
Again and again he climbed down to feel the earth. The land was good, but very little of it was being used. Except for the pasture where her twenty prize horses roamed, most of the pastureland was empty, if you didn’t count jackrabbits. The land that had been plowed under for crops had been abandoned years ago to weeds, and he’d seen records of where hay had been hauled in for winter feed even though there were more than enough barns to hold a homegrown supply.
“There’s a great deal to be done.” He saw potential.
“Hire who you need,” she said. “The money you put in the safe last night should pay any day labor, but the regulars draw ranch checks. I’ve been advertising for a new bookkeeper for the ranch. You might as well do the hiring. Ora Mae will call those who applied for interviews when you have time. You’ll meet all the staff on Monday.”
“Who pays the hands?”
“I have been for the last four months since the last bookkeeper quit. Cattle started disappearing about that time, and lately I’ve noticed the men hanging around the bunkhouse kitchen waiting for orders. Some are good men, I think, but they need a leader. They’re not comfortable handling things.”
“How many foremen you been through since your dad got ill and stopped running the place?”
“Four. The last one was just a hand, but he tried. Mostly he made mistakes and I wasn’t much help to him.”
“How many bookkeepers?”
“Three.” She didn’t need him to say more. “I know. I’ve got a problem. I have to take off work at the office to show them around, and then about the time they learn everything, they leave. I think someone is buying them away, offering more money. No matter what I do, I can’t keep more than the cleaning staff and a handful of cowhands.”
Cord swore he saw a tear slide over her cheek, and he had no doubt that she had tried. “I’ll make mistakes too. Lots of them.” He stared at the sky, giving her time to relax. She’d acted as if he might criticize her for not making a go of two businesses at once. “Can I count on you standing with me, right or wrong? I don’t want men going around me and you changing things I’m setting up. If you don’t like something I’m doing, I expect you to tell me first.”
“You have my word.” She climbed down and pulled a water bottle from her pack. “I love this place, but Dad never thought I needed to know ranch business. He didn’t even like me showing up at the roundups. To him the ranch was my brothers’, and the oil business was a place he’d let me work. It didn’t matter that they all three hated it. When my two oldest brothers died, Dad just doubled his efforts to force Barrett to take over. I think Barrett left a week after the funeral, fearing that somehow the land might trap him even with Dad gone. He signed it over to me, and I gave him all cash on hand along with stock in the oil. Sometimes I think I paid too dearly for land I don’t even know how to run. I sometimes think maybe the only reason I wanted it was because of my horses, and maybe because Dad didn’t want me having any part of it.”
“It’s beautiful country,” Cord said as he swung out of the saddle and took the drink she offered. “You could show a good profit, and you’re right—one good season is all you need to turn this place around.”
“No. I can’t. I’ve tried.” She looked up at him. “But you can.” She looked straight at him. “You should know there are those who do not wish you well.”
He walked his horse closer to her and whispered, “What else is new?”
The wind blew a few strands of her hair from the clamp she’d twisted back as they mounted up.
“Bring it on,” he smiled.
She smiled back at him. “Bring it on,” she repeated as they kicked their mounts into action and rode straight into the wind.
Chapter 8
AN HOUR BEFORE MIDNIGHT
DUPLEX
WITHOUT A SINGLE WORD, RONNY LOGAN CLIMBED INTO the black Lincoln and closed her eyes. This was her third ride on the interstates to Marty’s hospital room. Each night she thought the car might not come for her, or Mr. Carleon might not meet her at the door. Marty might not still be alive.
She felt like a zombie, walking the waking world but not part of it. Each morning she’d manage to do her job and study. She could sleep in the back of the post office at noon instead of eating, but no matter how tired, she would be waiting in the dark. Each night she dressed in her best clothes and waited for the black car.
The second night she’d been awake enough to realize they were heading toward Oklahoma City, but mostly she slept in the car with its smooth music and warm blanket. Last night after she’d left without Marty waking yet again, she’d felt herself crying in her sleep, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Marty and the tiny hope that she’d be there when he opened his eyes.
Tonight Mr. Carleon was there, his hand offering to help her from the car, his face blank of emotions. There was no time for greetings as he rushed her through the hallways and up the elevator.
“How is he?” she asked, not expecting Carleon to say anything.
“He’s awake,” Mr. Carleon whispered as he opened the hospital room door, “but I don’t know for how long.”
She moved to Marty’s side, afraid to even breathe.
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“Hello, beautiful,” he said, in a low voice that wrapped her in love as it had once before.
“Hello.” All the things she’d thought she would say to him vanished when she realized it was enough just to hear him.
“You wouldn’t want to crawl up here and sleep with me, would you?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but his hand gripped hers. “God, how I’ve missed you.”
She glanced at Mr. Carleon standing in the shadows. He’d told her Marty was dying, not from the illness but from the cures they’d tried. Even the family composed of one brother and a handful of cousins had given up hope weeks ago. Now, his brother checked with the doctors a few times a day but didn’t bother to visit a man sleeping away his last hours. Daniel had left orders to be notified if there was a change, and a few of the cousins still brought flowers but didn’t stay.
Having her near had been his last wish, and Mr. Carleon was there to help. If nothing else, he’d block the door tonight.
The older man nodded slightly, and she carefully leaned down beside Marty and laid her hand gently over his heart. “I’ll love you one heartbeat past forever,” she whispered, and thought she saw him smile just before he drifted back into a drug-induced sleep.
After three nights of midnight rides, Ronny felt her body relax. She knew she was probably breaking every rule the hospital had, but she closed her eyes and took the ounce of happiness in her world without love. Her friends had told her to move on after Marty left, find someone else, but how could she settle? She’d rather hold on to a memory.
As machines ticked the minutes away, she let tears flow, wondering if every person just has so many they have to cry in a lifetime. If so, she must be near her quota. Once, Marty’s hand touched her hair, moving through it slowly as if remembering every minute he’d touched her in those few months they’d known one another.
Mr. Carleon nudged her gently an hour later and woke her. “It’s time to go, miss.”
She nodded and moved slowly away as Marty remained sleeping. For the first time, on the way home, she didn’t cry.
She slept and worked and ate . . . and waited for the night.
At eleven the next night the car ride seemed endless, but when she walked into the room, Marty was waiting. His dark eyes slowly moved over her, and then he raised his hand. “You finally got here, honey. I’ve been waiting.”
She sat on the edge of his bed, not knowing what to say and very much aware of Mr. Carleon listening.
Marty wove his fingers between hers. “Tell me about Harmony, beautiful. Tell me about your life. Tell me about your day and every day you’ve had since I walked out on you.”
She could see pain in his dark eyes and wondered if he’d declined the pain meds so that he could be awake with her. If so, she needed to make their time count.
“I moved into your duplex after you left. It’s still like what you described once, a cuddly dump.” She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but she didn’t know if he was up to answering. Did where he’d been really matter? He was here now. “I found the money you left with the cookbook and used it to enroll in online courses. I love the computer you sent. Every time I turn it on, I think of you.”
Marty smiled. “I knew you’d need it.”
“It’s become my life. I carry a full load of classes online, and with each class I make friends going to school in their pajamas. Now I have friends all over the world.”
“How’s the post office?”
“The same. My route that started with your house and the fire department is the whole downtown square now. It takes me an hour to walk it after I’ve sorted all the incoming mail. I love walking it, watching the seasons change.”
“Do you talk to the people now?” He studied her hand in his as he spoke.
“Some.” She remembered how shy she’d been, thinking every stranger might be the one who would harm her. “There are a few that I’m just on nodding terms with.”
One by one, Marty asked about all the people who had been in his world when he’d lived in Harmony. Summer, the friend of Ronny’s who’d let her room with her when Ronny first left home. Tyler Wright, the funeral director who had always been kind to her. The Biggs brothers, who lived in the other half of the duplex, and Beau Yates, who’d moved in with them.
They were people from a sliver of his past, but she had the feeling he cared about each one. Until the accident he’d lived an exciting life: the best schools, the most thrilling vacations. Money had never been a problem. She knew he’d come to Harmony to hide out in his wheelchair, but somehow he’d found a peace there, and he’d found her.
When she paused, he gripped her hand tighter. “I always meant to come back to you, honey. I swear.”
Ronny couldn’t answer. She didn’t know if he meant it or not. It didn’t matter. She believed it, she always had.
“Tell me more,” he whispered. “Hearing you makes me forget about the pain.”
He fell asleep as she talked about learning to cook.
Mr. Carleon moved to her side. “It’s time to go, miss.”
She nodded. “I wish I could do something.”
“You did, miss. You helped a great deal. You gave Mr. Winslow peace for an hour. You let him go back to Harmony to visit, something neither his brother nor the doctors thought would be wise.”
Ronny looked up at the thin man. “Why’d you let me come here?”
“Because he never stops asking about you or for you. He’s been all over the world seeing doctors. His brother persuaded him to concentrate on getting better. At first when he asked to see you and his few close friends, the caretakers put up roadblocks by promising only delays. It wasn’t hard. He wanted to walk, and the thought of walking back to see you kept him going.
“By the time he realized Daniel wasn’t going to allow him any visitors, his cell phone and computer were gone and a nurse guarded him all hours. He had no way to get to you. Two months ago, after yet another surgery, he was confined to bed, unable to manage even the wheelchair. I watched him turn inward, not wanting the world to see him, but still he’d ask for me to check on you.
“Once we settled in here, Daniel didn’t stay around much and the few cousins he never really talked to lost interest in doing their family duty. They had lives to get back to. Hour visits became five-minute drop-bys, and daily trips stretched into weekly stops.”
“But you stayed?”
“I stayed. When he ran to Harmony two years ago, I thought his family was right—if I didn’t go to help, he’d come back. But now I know I was wrong. If I had gone with him then, he might have made a life even in the chair and not had to go through all the cures that didn’t work.”
She looked around the room. “You live here, don’t you?”
Mr. Carleon nodded. “I leave to sleep a few hours in the morning and shower, then I’m back. I won’t leave him again. Even when the private nurses were hired, I remained.”
Ronny raised an eyebrow. “The invisible private nurse?”
Carleon smiled. “With all the machines and nurses just down the hall, the private nurse saw no need to sleep in a chair. I played along with her conspiracy to slip away about midnight and sleep across the street in a hotel where I provided her a room. She’s always back by five, and I’ve promised I’ll be here with him and notify her of any change. On weekends I hired her friend under the same arrangements. Both know I’m near if there is any problem, but he sleeps through the night and most days away.”
“Thank you,” she said as he opened the back door of the hospital. “For being his friend.”
Mr. Carleon nodded once. “I wish I’d known you, miss. I would have made the arrangements earlier, but I believed what the doctors and Daniel kept saying about distractions impeding his progress.”
She had to ask. “Will you let me know if something happens? I don’t think I could bear it if the car just didn’t come one night and I never knew.”
“I promise.” His smile was sad as he
closed the door and she stepped into the waiting Lincoln.
Chapter 9
MONDAY
BOXED B RANCH
BY THE THIRD NIGHT OF HIS MARRIAGE TO NEVADA, CORD decided they’d developed a habit. He worked until he was dead tired. She fell asleep watching him. He carried her to bed. Then he lay three feet away from her and tried not to think about her or the way she smelled, or how she moved, or how the shadowy outline of her body curved beneath the covers. From the looks of things he would have to learn not to think at all if she was within fifty feet of him. He had a feeling if he complimented her she’d fly into that tornado he’d been expecting since they’d left the courthouse.
Nevada Britain wasn’t like what he thought. She didn’t seem as wild or crazy as people said. She just seemed lonely and, of course, spoiled. She was a hard worker, not much for talking unless he mentioned her horses, and cold in a way he never thought a woman who’d had lovers would ever be.
Near as he could tell Nevada didn’t trust anyone, but for some reason she’d been forced into trusting him with her land. Other than that, she didn’t even seem to like him most of the time or want him involved in her life. They talked about the ranch and nothing more. If he mentioned her family, she’d fire up and say she didn’t want to talk about them, or her ex-husbands for that matter.
Like they had the first night, Sunday night they’d cooked a simple meal together, and then he’d eaten and she’d picked at her food. When she’d pulled on her riding boots, he’d followed. They’d saddled up and ridden under the evening sky, not getting back until full dark and not having said more than a dozen words to one another.
He helped her with her horse in the new barn for just her herd, and then they rode double over to the main barn, where she watched him take care of Devil. Without a word, he took her hand and they crossed the last forty feet to the back gate of the main house. He guessed they were both tired and maybe a little nervous, but he couldn’t think of anything to say as he followed her into the house and back to their bedroom.
