He straightened. “What’s up?”
She sensed the same edginess in him she had detected yesterday. With his eyes shadowed by the bill of his cap, she couldn’t seem them clearly, but somehow she knew they were focused like lasers on her. The thought left her speechless for a few seconds. She hesitated, but then got around to saying, “Nothing much. I just came to talk a minute.”
He pushed his cap back, yanked a red bandana from his back pocket and wiped his perspiring forehead. “About what?”
She removed her sunglasses and squinted up at him. “I sort of want to start over. When I came—”
“Hey, you’ve got brown eyes.” He grinned as if he had discovered a secret.
“My whole family’s eyes are brown, except for Jake. Does it matter?”
“I wondered. You had on those sunglasses yesterday.” He gave a nod toward the sunglasses in her hand.
He had wondered about her eye color? What else had he wondered about her? The question threw her off track again. “Uh, when I came by yesterday, I thought you were a burglar. I didn’t know Mrs. Wallace had left her place to someone.”
“What did you think would happen to it?” He readjusted his cap, shadowing his eyes again.
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it at all. I just saw the strange rig and . . .” And what? She was still distracted by his comment about her eye color and what it meant. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Anyway, we’re neighbors, so . . .” She shrugged again, the words she wanted to say still not coming to her. So she smiled. “And now I know who you are.”
As he peeled off his leather gloves and stuffed them into his jeans’ back pocket, his mouth eased into a near smile. “I have to admit, I didn’t know who you were, either, until you said your name. Guess I should apologize.”
She laughed, though nothing was funny. “No need. I didn’t know you at all, even after you said your name.”
“Not your fault. It’s been about twenty years since I was around your folks’ place.” He planted his hands on his hips. “You probably would’ve been what, six or seven the last time I saw you?”
She couldn’t say why, but she liked him. Was drawn to him. And it had nothing to do with his being the best-looking stranger who had shown up in Willard County in a while. Or maybe ever. “Jake refreshed my memory about those days.”
Brady nodded. “Good guy, Jake. Known him a long time.”
Jude looked around, trying not to be obvious in her scrutiny of the place. From where she stood, she could see the need for so much work, she wouldn’t know where to start. No way could Brady Fallon—or anyone—cowboy five or six days a week for the Circle C and at the same time accomplish much on this old place. Even if he had the money, when would he find the time or energy? The Circle C hands worked long, exhausting days, many of them horseback all day long. She agreed with Grandpa. Brady’s situation looked hopeless.
A hole had appeared in the side of the barn since she had seen it yesterday. She gestured toward it. “Whatcha doing?”
He looked back over his shoulder toward the leaning barn. “I’m gonna replace some of the studs. Probably put up some new siding. Try to keep it from collapsing.”
“You’re a carpenter, huh? Jake told me you used to be in the construction business.”
He turned to her again, but she still couldn’t see his eyes. “Yeah, I was in the construction business. But I’m not a carpenter. I think I can fix this barn, though.”
Okay, if he was in the construction business but wasn’t a carpenter, he had to be a management type. Daddy had said he had a BBA. She longed for him to mention his going to work as a cowhand at the Circle C. She did not want to be the one to bring it up.
“You, uh, need some help? On the barn siding, I mean.”
“You volunteering?”
“Sure.”
He didn’t reply for a few seconds. He glanced away, then back at her. “Now, why would you do that? I’ll bet you’ve never hammered a nail. Or done much work of any kind.”
She bristled at the criticism. Another person who thought her an empty shirt. She had done plenty of work around the ranch, but she didn’t want to debate the issue. “Look, before you just dismiss me, I can see you need help. I’m a capable person. And a fast learner. Besides, what have you got to lose? I don’t see anyone else lined up to help you.” She winced mentally at the tactless words.
He chuckled. “You got that right.”
She lifted her arms and let them fall to her sides. “So put me to work.”
“You’re not dressed for work.”
“This is what I wear all the time.”
“You got any gloves? Got a long-sleeve shirt?”
“Not with me. You’re not wearing a long-sleeve shirt yourself.”
“But I’m tough.”
She didn’t doubt that.
He chewed on the inside of his jaw for a few beats, as if he were deciding what to do. “Okay. Be right back.” He strode toward the house.
She had only a short wait before he returned carrying a plaid shirt and a new pair of leather gloves. While she shrugged into the shirt, he said, “I’ll tear off the siding. The boards that are fit to keep, you can carry ’em over and stack ’em, okay? That’ll save me a few steps. The ones that are too far gone, just throw over on that burn pile.” He pointed toward a pile of debris.
The shirt smelled of laundry soap and the hem fell to just above her knees. The cuffs covered her fingertips. She began rolling them up, past her wrists. “Great.” While he watched in silence, she finished the last cuff and pulled her hair from underneath the shirt collar. “Let’s do it,” she said, probably more brightly than necessary.
He continued to stare at her. “Yeah, let’s do it,” he said eventually. “Don’t forget the gloves.”
As the gap in the barn wall grew larger, the stack of salvable boards grew taller, the sun climbed higher and the temperature rose to blistering. Wearing a long-sleeve shirt, Jude was close to melting. Her whole body was damp with sweat, and her stomach had begun to feel empty.
She didn’t know the time, but she could tell by the sun’s position that it was near noon. She thought about dinner at the Circle C ranch house and wished she hadn’t told Windy she would be there to eat. If he set a place for her and she didn’t show up, Daddy and Grandpa would wonder where she was and what she might be doing, or worse yet, would fear she had run into some kind of trouble. She appreciated that they loved her and had always taken care of her, but sometimes their attention could be suffocating.
Beyond that concern was her internal debate over whether she should continue helping Brady Fallon after dinner and on into the afternoon. Though she wanted to stay, she also wanted to hear the dinner conversation among Daddy and Grandpa, the Circle C’s vet and the representatives from the AQHA. Because she had tracked and studied the genetic history of many of the Circle C’s horses, the breeding program was of great interest to her. But all of that seemed less important now than it had been earlier today, so she continued to stack boards.
Soon, Brady came over, removing his gloves. A sheen of sweat covered his face, and moisture showed in darker patches on his blue T-shirt. “You getting hungry?”
She straightened and pressed her own damp brow with her shirtsleeve. “Uh, well, kind of. All I had for breakfast was cereal.”
“That’s what I thought. You didn’t leave home expecting to do any real work.”
Her spine stiffened. There it was again. That subtle mockery and skepticism of her motives. She couldn’t expect anything different, she supposed, when she didn’t even know her motives herself. “I didn’t know if you’d welcome my help.”
“I can make us a sandwich.”
If she were facing a firing squad, she couldn’t explain the mysterious allure that made her say, “Okay.”
The dinner decision made just that simply, she removed the gloves. “I need to get my purse out of my pickup, okay?” She didn’t add that she also need
ed to call home.
“Just come in the front door,” he replied, and started for the back door, leaving the boom box on. All morning, they had listened to a steady blare of country-western music, everything from Patsy Cline to Toby Keith.
“Would you like for me to turn off the radio?” she called to his back.
“Nah,” he answered, and kept walking. “We’re not gonna be gone that long.”
She tramped to her pickup, pulled her cell phone from her purse and called the Circle C. The housekeeper, Lola Mendez, answered, and Jude told her she was tied up helping a friend in town and wouldn’t be home for dinner after all. Daddy would assume she was helping Suzanne do something and wouldn’t worry.
As she tucked her cell phone back into her purse, she acknowledged that her interest in Brady Fallon had now caused her to, uncharacteristically, fib to her family for the second time.
She stepped into the living room gingerly and found the air so cool against her heated body, she shivered. Her hearing followed a dull roar to a swamp cooler in the window. She had never been inside the Wallace house, but she had been in the homes of many of Willard County’s citizens. The county and the town were less than prosperous, with many of the residents elderly or Hispanic, living on incomes below the national poverty level. Most of the homes that weren’t mobile homes reflected that. They were outdated and worn-out. Jude saw that the interior of Marjorie Wallace’s house was no different.
Brady’s voice came from the adjoining room. “Hope you like baloney and cheese.”
She walked toward the voice, into the kitchen, and saw him soaping and washing his hands in the sink. A bare window over the sink let light into the kitchen and onto his face and hands.
“That’s mostly what I eat these days,” he said. “It’s easy and it’s cheap.” He went to a refrigerator that had to be forty years old and laid his cap on top of it beside a radio.
“That’s fine,” she said, but she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten bologna. She felt a pinch of conscience. She had never had to consider the cost of food.
He gathered a jar of mayonnaise and a jar of mustard, a package of cheese, a package of lunch meat and a jar of pickles from the refrigerator and carried them to the counter in one load.
She thought of the meal Windy and Irene would be serving. With company there, it would probably be steak and all the trimmings. “I, uh, need to wash up, too.” In fact, she had needed a stop in the bathroom for a while.
“Oh, sorry.” He walked into the living room and pointed to his right. “This house just has one bathroom. It’s up that hall.”
He started back into the kitchen and she started into the living room. They nearly collided as they both tried to pass through the doorway at the same time. “Oh,” she gasped, her shoulder brushing his chest as she dodged him.
“Oops.” He stiffened, his back flat against the doorjamb.
“Sorry.” For an instant, she felt the heat of his body and smelled his scent, a mix of sweat and some kind of cologne. In that same instant she became even more acutely aware of his big, solid body, and she fought not to look down. Instead, she willed herself to look up, her face no more than a foot from his. His eyes locked on hers. Uncertain what she saw in them, she ducked her chin and stared at the heartbeat steadily pulsing at the neckband of his T-shirt. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said.
A swarm of butterflies fluttered in her stomach all the way to the bathroom.
The bathroom had a lemony cleaning product smell and she noticed that everything—fixtures, walls and counter—appeared to be freshly scrubbed, though she saw abundant evidence of the wear and corrosion caused by hard water. Bad water was a West Texas blight. She had lost track of how often plumbing had been replaced in the Circle C ranch house, but she knew that to most Willard County residents, frequent plumbing replacement was an unaffordable extravagance. Most people just lived with plugged fixtures or perforated pipes until the inconvenience became an emergency.
When she returned to the kitchen, she saw two sandwiches sliced into neat halves on two plates on the table. A roll of paper towels lay in the middle of the table.
“Have a seat,” he said. “Want a glass of milk?”
“Yes, please.” She eased onto a chair at the table, relieved to sit down. Already, she was sore everywhere and the day was only half over. He was right in that she had never before done the kind of work she had done all morning. The boards were wide and heavy. Because they were also long, they were awkward to manhandle.
He poured two glasses of milk and set them on the table, then took a seat adjacent to hers. He tore two paper towel sheets from the roll and handed one to her, smiling. “Sorry, no napkins. This is the best I can do.”
Jude had been a teacher in an underfunded public school full of students from low-income families that could scarcely afford paper towels, much less napkins. If Brady hadn’t brought the substitution to her attention, she would hardly have noticed, though she had never seen the Circle C dining table without napkins. “No problem,” she said, and looked into his face for a few extra seconds.
At last, she could really see his eyes and take the time to study them. And they were most interesting: sky blue irises surrounded by a navy blue ring. She found herself thinking of long lines of women and wondered why he and his wife divorced. Had he been unfaithful? Had he had a girlfriend? With his looks, he could have had a harem. The quality about him that fascinated her came to her in a eureka moment. He had a confidence that had nothing to do with his good looks, but everything to do with his maleness. He reminded her of a testosterone-driven stallion that just knew by instinct he was the boss horse the mares wouldn’t reject.
“What do you hear from Cable?” he asked.
“Very little. I’m surprised you haven’t run into him. He bought a rope-manufacturing company somewhere near Fort Worth. Lariats, you know?”
“There’s several of those.”
She was growing more impatient, waiting for him to reveal that he had hired on as a Circle C cowhand. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, so as she usually did, she decided to appease her curiosity. “Daddy said you’re going to work for the Circle C.”
He sat back in his chair, just looking at her and chewing, as if he were peering inside her. She could see that tinge of mockery in his eyes again. He picked up his glass, and her eyes fixed on his corded neck as he swallowed a long drink of milk.
He set the empty glass back on the table but looked at his sandwich instead of her. “I was wondering when you were gonna get around to saying something. So that’s what you’re doing here. Being nosy.”
“I’m not nosy. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’m doing here. Daddy said you aren’t starting until Monday.”
“I told him I need to get over to Stephenville tomorrow and pick up my horses and the rest of my stuff.”
“But the ranch will furnish your mounts. You don’t have to ride your own horses.”
“I don’t intend to. But I want my horses here with me. A friend’s been pasturing ’em for me. Now that I’ve got a place to keep ’em, I want to get ’em out of his way.”
“How many horses do you have?”
“Three.”
“Ranch horses?”
“Yep. Good ones.”
They would be good ones. He just looked like the type of man who would have good horses. “I can’t remember the last time I was in Stephenville.”
He stopped chewing and looked at her again, wiping his mouth with a sheet of paper towel. “Don’t tell me you’re volunteering to help me move my stuff from Stephenville.”
“Why not?”
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Darlin’, I appreciate the offer, but it’s a job I can do easier by myself. Besides, even if I needed the help, J. D. Strayhorn would can me before I ever get started if he thought I hauled you with me over to Stephenville. Hell. I’m wondering what he might do if he knew you
were here right now.”
“He doesn’t tell me what to do.”
“Maybe not, but I’d bet my best saddle he doesn’t want you fraternizing with the hired help.”
Her father could never be called snobbish in his attitude about the men who worked for the Circle C, but he and Grandpa condoned her mixing with the male help only to a point. Daddy had always told her to stay away from the bunkhouse and not to invite trouble. She hadn’t understood that as a child, but now that she was grown, she had to acknowledge that the practice was a good one. Other than the families who lived a distance away from the main house and the Mexican household help, all of whom were married, she was the only female on the place. Brady Fallon’s insight into Daddy’s and Grandpa’s attitudes left her without a rebuttal.
“I’ve got the time right now,” she said, “but in a few more weeks, I’ll have to get ready for school.”
“I thought you were out of school.”
“High school. I teach biology. And help coach girls’ sports.”
“The hell you say.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I’m just surprised is all.”
“I have to do something. I don’t want to be worthless. Look, I can see what you’re trying to do here will be hard. I just think you can use all the help you can get.” Just in time, she kept herself from saying, I know you don’t have any money. I know you can’t afford to hire anyone.
All at once she realized she had to be careful about what she said. She did want to help Brady Fallon. Her whole life, she had rallied around underdogs. But after what Grandpa had told her about his own plans for the 6-0, she couldn’t betray his trust. Damn. She had put herself in a delicate position.
“This is gonna be a nonstop working trip, darlin’. I’ve got to clean out the trailer house where I’ve been living so somebody else can move in. That’ll take me most of tomorrow. Sunday morning, I’ll load up my horses and gear and come back.”
Lone Star Woman Page 8
