Ben shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
"What's the problem?"
Ben shot him a glance. "Do I have to call him Uncle Tank? I wish I could scrub that Patton blood right out of me."
Whoa. Ian had to tread carefully here and try to forget his own difficulties with Tank. He placed a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Has he done something to you, Ben?"
"Not really. He leaves me alone, but he's stopped some of my friends, and the kids at school talk about how he throws his weight around. He acts like that badge gives him rights that don't seem legal."
Ian's dad looked over Ben's head, eyebrows lifted. Ian shook his head. "Have any of them talked to their parents?"
"No. What good would it do? He's a jerk, and he's always been a jerk. I hate that kids know we're related."
"I could spout off some foolishness you'd tell a child, Ben, or I can treat you like a man."
Ben's eyes rose to Ian's. "I'm not a child."
"I know you're not. So here's the thing: your uncle is a troubled man, and I won't pretend to be his best buddy."
Ben snorted. "He doesn't have any friends. Except other jerks."
"Well, be that as it may, his old man set a very poor example for him."
"His dad was meaner than a feral hog," interjected Gordon.
Ian couldn't argue. "But Tank is not your dad, thank goodness, and you come from the best man I ever knew, except for my dad."
Gordon's eyes went wide, but Ian continued. "What both of them had in common is that they made the best of what life handed them. Your dad got married real young, and he didn't have a chance at an education, but he buckled down and worked hard, and he created a family anyone would be proud to call their own. My dad had to raise me on his own while trying to keep a ranch going, and he didn't shuffle me off to relatives like he could have, but instead he kept me with him. That's what a man does—he takes a look at the cards life deals out, and he doesn't give up and he doesn't whine about his sorry lot. He hunkers down and figures out what he can do with them."
"I'm not whining."
"I didn't say you were. What I'm trying to tell you, man to man, is that one of the cards you were dealt was to be related to Tank. But the way you got there was by being born to your mother, who is one very admirable woman. She couldn't control what family she was born into and neither could you. But she hasn't let it get in the way of being the best person she can be, and folks respect her for that, just the way they'll respect you if you focus on what you do have instead of what you wish you could change." He clapped Ben's shoulder. "That's a man's truth, Ben, not a child's pacifier. I believe you're man enough to step up like your dad did. Like mine did. Don't you?"
Ben met his gaze without the previous misery that had filled his eyes and nodded. "My dad was—" His voice broke.
"He was as good as they come," Ian agreed. "And he'd be real proud of you right now."
Ian looked away to give the boy a minute to compose himself and found his dad looking at him with new eyes. His own throat a little too tight for comfort, he settled on a simple nod.
His dad nodded back.
"So…your mom deserves a whole lot more than a simple work day, but it's a start. I'd sure like to help, and I know others would, too. How about you talk it up to your friends at school, and Dad and I will spread it around, too. We'll set it for, what, weekend after this? Is that good timing for the farm and what needs doing?"
"It would be real good, but—" Hectic color rose in Ben's cheeks, and he hesitated.
"Go on. But what?"
"Just…I think it would go down easier if we could point out someone else who needs help, some other place we'd go next." He shrugged. "So Mom doesn't feel so much like a charity case, you know."
Ian looked at his dad. "Boy's got a head on his shoulders." He grinned. "He might even lay claim to understanding women."
Ben rolled his eyes.
"No man should be so foolish as to think that. Speaking of women," Gordon said. "I want to meet Ruby's girl. That was some fine cobbler. Tastes different than Ruby's, but boy, is it good." He rose awkwardly, and Ian had to restrain himself from helping.
He cast a glance back at the kitchen and caught Scarlett looking. When she realized they were approaching, her eyes went wide, and she took a step back.
"Little girl, I never thought anybody's cobbler could hold a candle to Ruby's, but you did your grandma proud," said his father as he hobbled over.
The entire room's attention was focused on his dad and the woman behind the pass-through.
"You gonna come out here where I can take a look at you, or you gonna force an old man to walk all the way back there?"
Ian tried to catch Scarlett's attention to apologize. Asking her to come to him was a complete about-face to his father's usual fierce insistence on independence. He also had the sense that Scarlett wouldn't welcome the notoriety.
But he'd sold her short.
Scarlett came around and through the doorway, rounding the counter and making her way to them, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "You don't look so old to me," she said, the faint huskiness in her voice competing with the humor. "You must be Ian's dad. He looks just like you. I'm Scarlett Ross." She held out a hand to shake.
"And you resemble both your mama and your grandma, don't you? I'm real sorry to hear about Georgia. She was something special, that girl."
"You knew her?" Naked longing filled her voice.
"Grew up together. Told her I was gonna marry her."
Scarlett's eyebrows flew upward. "I'm sorry that didn't happen."
"Well, considering I was about ten and she was all of seven or eight at the time and had just bloodied my nose, she can be forgiven for not taking the proposal seriously, I expect."
Scarlett burst into laughter, a sound as musical as fairy bells. "Why did she bloody your nose?"
"'Cause I had already asked Becky Tyler to go steady. Georgia didn't think much of that."
Scarlett's whole face lit. Then she glanced at Ian. "So is your son a chip off the old block, Romeo?"
Ian had never in his life seen his father blush before, but he was seeing it now.
"You're a pistol just like her, aren't you?" Gordon asked.
Her expression turned wistful. "I wish I could say so. I loved my mother very much. When I was little, I thought she was the most glamorous woman in the world."
"You weren't wrong." Then his dad stirred. "I'm being rude." He turned a little. "This is Ben Butler. His daddy and Ian got in a whole lot of trouble growing up."
Scarlett's gaze shifted quickly to Ian, then back, but not before he saw both mischief and interest. "I'm pleased to meet you, Ben."
Ben shook her hand, too. "That food was amazing, especially that cobbler."
"Boy's right," said his father. "Something makes it different—not better, of course, since nobody makes cobbler like Ruby, but still real good. No offense."
"None taken. I've had a taste of my grandmother's food. She's got the magic touch, doesn't she?"
All around him, Ian could see heads nodding and faces filling with approval that Scarlett would honor her grandmother.
"She sure does. Sweetgrass Springs would be nothing without her."
"Would you care to sit and have a cup of coffee?" Scarlett offered. "Decaf, since it's late?"
Then Ian realized what she had apparently already noticed, that his father was no longer standing so steadily. Standing up tired him greatly, but admitting it would pain him worse.
"Naw, I'm fine. We got to be going, anyway. Young Ben here has school tomorrow."
Ben stirred in protest but thankfully said nothing.
"And Scarlett still has folks to feed," Ian interjected.
"I do," she agreed. "Will you come back, Mr. McLaren? Let me feed you again?"
"You gonna stay around for awhile?" His dad asked.
She looked startled for a second but quickly recovered. "I've told my grandmother I'll help out until she's well enough to take over."<
br />
Not exactly a long-term commitment, not that Ian was surprised. The last place she belonged was Sweetgrass.
"Now don't you get in a big hurry," his dad said. "I would indeed like to see what other surprises you might have to show us." He leaned closer. "And your grandmother could use the help. Woman's a force of nature, but she's not getting any younger."
"Well, I—" Her glance darted around at all the ears perked to attention. "I guess we'll just have to see how things work out, Mr. McLaren."
"That's pretty much a rancher's life, Ms. Ross. I'm real good at patience."
"Scarlett, please."
"Fine, but you call me Gordon, then."
She cast a quick glance at Ian as if checking out his reaction.
He shrugged.
"Thank you for stopping to talk to me, Gordon. Come back soon, will you?"
His dad jerked his head toward Ian. "Tell my chauffeur." He grinned and turned away.
"Bye, Ms. Ross." Ben followed.
"Bye, Ben. You come back, too."
Ian lingered. "Sorry he put you on the spot."
"He's great."
"The chauffeur can't really speak to that. I'm only the hired help."
She glanced up, eyes sparkling. "Well, Jeeves, I guess you'd better get to it."
"Guess I will." But instead he lingered. "Good groceries. You do know your way around a kitchen, don't you?"
Pride swept over her features, followed by gratitude. "I absolutely do." Then her brows snapped together as she looked behind him. "But now I have a waitress on the warpath, so I'd better let her man go."
"Don't say that. I'm not—" He glared at her.
Once more Scarlett burst out laughing and patted his shoulder. "Night-night, Romeo."
Ian growled a little and shook his head.
But he was grinning as he left.
CHAPTER NINE
She hadn't had to clean her own grill in a long time. The world she'd come from was distinctly stratified, and a chef stood at the apex, even above the restaurant owner at times.
But the work wasn't so bad, she realized.
At least it wouldn't be if Jeanette would just go home and leave them in peace. Henry was a hard worker, Pete the dishwasher pitched in, too, and Brenda seemed to have taken a liking to Scarlett so even though she could have left already, she'd volunteered to mop.
Henry had insisted on picking up the chairs and upending them on the tables for Brenda first, though, like a gentleman spreading his cloak.
Brenda had an admirer, it seemed.
"All counted," said Jeanette from the cash register. "I'll take the bank bag with me."
"But Ruby always—" At a glare from her, Henry subsided.
"Ruby isn't here."
Scarlett stopped scraping. "Ruby what, Henry?"
He shrugged. "She takes the bank bag home each night then goes to the bank in the middle of the morning."
"Which I will do for her tomorrow," Jeanette said. "Because Ruby's not feeling well."
"Maybe—" Scarlett halted. Was this really her fight? Ruby seemed to trust Jeanette to run things, so was Scarlett looking to step in simply because Jeanette was so unpleasant to her? Because Jeanette so clearly had set her cap for Ian?
Surely she was a bigger person than that. And she didn't want Ian, anyway.
Or not much. Not more than a passing fancy, at least—and only for that smokin' hot body of his.
Jeanette's posture screamed that she was waiting for Scarlett to argue.
This wasn't her café. She was the newcomer. She barely knew her grandmother at all. Making up her mind, she shrugged at Jeanette. "If you think that's what Ruby would want, far be it from me to interfere."
Jeanette did a double take. "More than you're already interfering?"
"Would you like to handle the cooking tomorrow?" Wow, the woman was annoying.
"Of course not," Jeanette snapped. Then she took a deep breath and released it. "Look, it was nice for you take over for Ruby today. She'll be up and around in another day, I'm sure, then you can be on your way."
Here's your hat, what's your hurry?
Wasn't that what she wanted, anyhow? She'd met her grandmother, but she didn't have to stay here to keep up the relationship. Anyway, Ruby might not want her around, once she heard that her granddaughter had been in jail.
But there was so much Scarlett didn't know yet. She wanted to see those drawings and paintings. Wanted to understand the seven-year-old girl who'd bloodied Gordon's nose.
Don't you get in a big hurry. Your grandmother could use the help. His words bothered her. She couldn't stay in this backwater forever, but what would happen to Henry and Brenda and the Judge? Ruby wasn't getting any younger, and the café was the saving grace of Sweetgrass Springs, best she could tell.
She's the heart and soul of this town.
Scarlett could do nothing about all of that, but maybe she could hang around for a few days and give Ruby a break. Santa Fe—or wherever she stirred up her courage to try—wasn't going anywhere.
Jeanette was still poised at the door with the bank bag on her hand, her purse over her shoulder.
Scarlett realized that Jeanette was waiting for her to leave first. She was the interloper, the stranger. Of course they wouldn't know they could trust her.
Still she offered. "I can lock up."
"There's no key," Henry pointed out. "Not much need to lock up in Sweetgrass Springs. Especially here. No one would mess with Ruby. She's special."
They didn't lock up. Seriously? Coming from a city where she'd had four locks just for her apartment door, the concept was astounding.
Wow.
"Well, then," she managed. "I'll turn off the lights. I'm guessing you're ready to get off your feet," she said to Jeanette. "Probably we all are."
Jeanette was curiously devoid of anger for a second, maybe still trying to take in that Scarlett wasn't going to battle her over the bank bag. She hitched up her purse higher on her shoulder and straightened. "You got that right. Five o'clock will be here plenty early." She glanced around her as if a little lost without the hard feelings swirling in the air. "Well…good night, I guess." She started out the door, then her head whipped around. "Wait. You don't have Ruby's biscuit recipe. She starts them at four sharp."
"I can wing it. I have my own recipes right here." She tapped at her temple.
"That won't be what people expect."
"My cobbler wasn't either. Different biscuits won't kill them for one day." Then Scarlett gave the waitress her back, too tired to start another argument. "I'll see you in the morning, Jeanette."
A long pause.
"I suppose they'll survive, just this once." The door slammed behind her.
Brenda exhaled a long sigh of relief.
Scarlett glanced up and grinned. "I hear that." She looked around. "Anything we still need to do, Henry?"
He seemed pleased that she'd consulted him. "Nope. I'm ready for bed—you?"
"I'd offer to race you, but I still have stairs to climb."
Henry laughed, and even Brenda grinned.
* * *
That all three of them were going home to the same place wasn't as weird as it probably should have been. It was a little like having siblings, except Scarlett's sibling of choice would have been an older brother, someone to depend on, someone who would—
She laughed at herself. She'd longed for a protector, but she needed no such thing—she'd made her way through growing up without one just fine.
"Something funny?" Henry asked as they climbed the porch steps.
"Nothing really," she responded just as he pulled open the door.
"Hey, Ruby," he greeted her grandmother, who was sitting in a kitchen chair. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore as the dickens, if you really want to know. A good night's sleep, though, and I'll be fit as a fiddle."
"That's good. We missed you tonight, but Scarlett—"
"—Did fine. Absolutely fine," the normally sile
nt Brenda rushed to say.
Henry bristled. "Of course she did. I wasn't gonna say anything different."
"Good night, you two." Ruby's order was implied. "Dawn comes early."
"Don't you think you—" Brenda subsided.
"Don't I think I what?" Ruby's voice was kind, though her exhaustion was evident.
The young woman shook her head and turned away.
"Don't I think I should stay in bed? That it?"
The girl stopped midway down the hall. "It's not my business to say what you should do." Her voice was nearly too quiet to be heard.
"Honey, it is your business. You live here, and you make your living in my café. You are entitled to an opinion," Ruby said gently, then smiled. "I just don't have to do what you say."
The faint smile put the most fragile of curves on Brenda's lips, and Scarlett found herself wanting to cheer. "We did okay tonight, Ruby," Brenda said softly. "The cobbler was a big success and we worked together, so you could take it easy tomorrow. You work too hard." Then, as if she'd exceeded her quota of words for the day, she moved to the stairs and scampered up toward her room which was, Scarlett had learned this afternoon, right next to her own.
"Snuggle up," Scarlett and Ruby called out in unison, and Scarlett wheeled in shock once again.
Her grandmother's eyes twinkled even as they looked so very sad. "Who do you think your mama learned it from?"
Georgia had said that to Scarlett every night of her life. Snuggle up. And every night she'd respond back to her mother. Sweet dreams.
Her gaze met Ruby's, and warmth rose in her chest at the reminder that she wasn't alone anymore. Wherever she went, she would know that there was someone left who shared her blood.
"Sweet dreams," she finished with a catch in her throat.
Ruby's expression was surprisingly vulnerable. Then she straightened and cleared her throat. "Ground pecans, huh? You do know that pecans are expensive?"
Scarlett hadn't even considered that she would be costing Ruby money, and she knew better. Every chef had to guard the bottom line like a hawk. She'd been caught up in wanting to prove a point to all the doubters, or maybe to show her grandmother how good she was.
Or both.
"I'm really sorry. I should have asked you first. It's your kitchen. I'll replace what I used."
Texas Roots: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Page 9
