Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  Evelyn opened the door for the maid as she brought him inside. Evelyn’s heart hammered in her chest. Her father’s illness was even worse than she imagined. “Set him down on his bed and watch over him. Make sure he stays in bed for a while.”

  Preston folded his arms and leaned against one of the porch columns. “He’s in mighty bad shape. Doctor needs to see him.”

  “I know.” She sat down into the nearest wooden chair to rub her temples with the pads of her fingers, hoping the desperate practice would alleviate the building headache. “I plan to go down to Hamilton now and fetch for Dr. Elton myself.”

  Fetch for Dr. Elton, pay the ranch hands, review the orders for the new inventory—just another task she needed to complete.

  And another added expense. She cringed. Not that there was a shortage of those these days. Her father had to fire two of the ranch hands recently for trying to steal from the big house. She had debated whether or not to re-hire after the incident, but pickings were slim. There was a shortage of cowboys in Hamilton. Everyone had heard of a wealthier ranch up north, and most of the cowboys decided to try their luck for higher wages.

  There was no way her father could afford to compete with those wages. She sighed. Too bad cowboys didn’t work for free.

  Breighton had already been operating at a loss for the past few months. The loans her father planned to pay back months ago were still only partially paid. The loan re-payments had to be met, but Evelyn had no idea where the money was supposed to come from. She swallowed hard. Should she start selling the items in the house?

  She turned her palms up in her lap. Even the insides of her hands were chapped. Rough calluses framed palms that had once been as smooth as polished stone. Fingers that had only turned book pages now repaired fences and grew coarse from gripping the horse reins. The white buckskin gloves hadn’t helped much; blisters still formed daily.

  She looked up from her hands and removed thoughts of hardship from her mind. Moping in misery held no place in her life. There was no time to feel sorry for herself, really. With a shortage of ranch hands and the ranch operating at a loss and her father ill—she furrowed her brow. She would have just to work harder.

  Nothing she couldn’t handle. There was work to be done.

  • • •

  Jesse wiped the towel across the side of his face, removing the remnants of trimmed hair from the side of his beard. He raised an eyebrow at the reflection he saw in the mirror. Was that him? He rubbed his hand along the length of his trimmed beard.

  After reaching into his wallet, he set the cash down on the counter for the barber and lifted himself from the chair to leave. The floorboards creaked underneath his weight as he pushed open the doors and stepped out into the sunlight.

  A low whistle caught his attention, and he turned to the source.

  A busty young woman with liquor on her breath leaned forward. He held out his arms to steady her, and then set her against the wall. Sheila Danforth. He sighed. Still frequenting the bar and off on another bender, as always. “Too early in the day for liquor, ma’am.”

  She giggled while she pressed her back against the wooden slats of the barbershop to get a better look at him. In her drunken haze, she kept sliding off the wall and straightening herself up again. Satisfied with her inspection, she started to wobble toward him. “All the better for seein’ you, doll. Who are you?”

  Jesse stepped back. He’d known her since they were kids. “Don’t you recognize me?”

  “Don’t reckon so. I’d remember that sweet face and body anywhere, baby.” Sheila winked, but stopped stumbling toward him. She placed a hand on her hip and rested her weight on one leg, jutting the other straight out in front of her. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

  He turned away, shaking his head. She didn’t recognize him at all.

  As he walked down the row of stores, he grew suddenly aware of the fine fabric of his coat and the sturdiness of his black boots. There was no reason for Sheila to recognize him as the same Jesse Greenwood who left town. His hand brushed against the trimmed beard around his mouth, and he adjusted his new hat. Jesse the cowboy could have never afforded such fine fixings; these clothes belonged to the new Mr. Greenwood.

  A small smile crossed his features. He may have changed, but Hamilton sure hadn’t.

  All the sights and sounds and smells were the same as he remembered. No new inventions had touched Hamilton as far as he could see. The town stayed frozen in time while the world changed around it. He heard the sound of the blacksmith around the corner, the clang of the hammer hitting the hot metal echoing around the bend. In front of him was the general store.

  The store looked the same as always, and the apothecary right by it still had the same dusty sign that hung by only one hinge. A red sign reading Doctor perched over the building next to the apothecary. He crossed the trail and headed in that direction, wondering if even the door would look the same as he remembered.

  Yep, still that same faded mustard color. The kind that reminded him of sunrises witnessed on horseback and dirt roads. His throat tightened. Working on a ranch nearly felt like another lifetime ago. He hadn’t forgotten all the skills he’d learned: herding cattle, mending corral posts. Yet his time at Breighton seemed more like a story someone told him rather than a reality he actually remembered living.

  “Is that . . . no, it couldn’t be!” A short, skinny man in his mid-50s approached him. Dr. Elton shook his finger at Jesse, slapped his hands together, and laughed suddenly—out of joy or disbelief, Jesse couldn’t say. “Greenwood, is that you?”

  He brushed out the sleeves of his coat, suddenly self-conscious. No one in Hamilton had ever seen him in clothes this expensive before. The new fabrics felt like a fancy cloak he hid behind. “Yes, sir, it is. How are you, doctor?”

  “Oh my goodness! It’s been so long, boy. Well, you’re not a boy anymore.” Dr. Elton clapped a hand over his chest. He adjusted his spectacles with the other hand. Jesse felt his eyes look him and up down, scrutinizing him like he would a new patient. “You look like a man now, and in a much better position than when you left. What have you been doing all these years, anyhow?”

  “I was in California.”

  “What could you be doing there?”

  “Worked at a hotel for a few years until the owner died, leaving it to me. I run the hotel now, me and a few others. Made enough money to be able to travel back here.” More than enough, actually. Enough for Loretta to quit her job, enough for him to buy a house for her, and enough for him to pay for her wedding. Enough to buy his own ranch, if he desired.

  “Seems like you’ve done well for yourself.” Dr. Elton nodded. He pushed his glasses back up, the inspection over. “What brings you back to Hamilton?”

  “Loretta’s marriage. I want to see for myself that my sister’s settled and happy here before I return to California.”

  “You won’t take her back with you?”

  “She wants to stay.” Jesse shrugged. She’d begged him to stay in Texas, too. “I’m only here for a few months.”

  “Have you been to Breighton recently? I am sure they all miss you over there. You and the Lancaster girl were always such good friends . . .”

  Jesse stiffened. It was in the past now, he reminded himself. Lord, how he’d reminded himself. Loretta had written to him that Evelyn wasn’t married yet, but it didn’t change anything for him. He wasn’t enough for her. Never would be. He cleared his throat, about to respond, when the doctor suddenly stepped past him.

  “Why, that’s her coming up now. She seems in quite a hurry.”

  Jesse turned around to look at what the doctor was staring at. As soon as he did, he wished more than anything that he hadn’t.

  The wind whipped her hair behind her, the dark locks flowing in the air. She didn’t bother to ride sidesaddle. Her legs rested on both sides of the horse, and she leaned forward against her mount with the reins gripped tightly in her hand. She rode like a cowboy. Jesse
had only ever seen one girl ride a horse so fearlessly: Eve.

  Evelyn, he reminded himself. She’s Evelyn now and you don’t care for her.

  Eve—Evelyn—didn’t notice him at first. Her horse slowed to a trot and she remained seated as she addressed the doctor. “My father needs help,” she gasped. Panic seeped into her voice. “I raced here as fast as I could. I know you treated him recently, but now he seems worse. I have no idea what could be wrong with him.”

  “Mr. Lancaster’s in trouble?”

  Evelyn looked over at the sound of his voice. She seemed taken aback at first, perhaps doubting her sense of hearing. But when her gaze met Jesse’s, her jaw went slack. Eyes wide, she tried to say something, then immediately clamped her mouth shut. There was no mistake that she recognized him. She would say something to him, surely.

  He stifled the disappointment washing over him as her gaze passed from him to Dr. Elton.

  Her voice became firm once more, as if she’d already forgotten he was there. “How soon do you think you can ride up to Breighton?”

  “Well, I’ll get my horse now. Mr. Greenwood, I’m terribly sorry we couldn’t catch up properly. Next time, definitely. You must eat supper with my wife and me.” The doctor shook Jesse’s hand, forcing Jesse to tear his gaze away from Evelyn. He nodded to the doctor, promising they’d speak again.

  A clopping of hooves drew his eyes back to where she had been. This time, though, there was only a cloud of dust and a distant image of Blue Star riding away from the town. Through all his time in California, he hadn’t met a girl who could race a horse faster than his Eve.

  Evelyn, he corrected himself. She wasn’t his Eve anymore.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jesse Greenwood was back.

  Evelyn finished braiding her hair and swept it into a bun. A few black locks protested, hanging to the sides and away from the up-do. She pinned the rebellious strands in place and checked the back in the mirror before rising from her vanity bench.

  Jesse Greenwood was back.

  The big house seemed so much emptier than she’d ever remembered. Her childhood memories of Breighton included maids buzzing about the house, filling the rooms with idle chatter. But now they were gone, leaving only idle silence. Not to mention her father being confined to bed rest. She crossed her arms and pressed them close to her chest. Sometimes she felt like she was living in the big house all by herself. She missed the maids; she missed company. It was up to Evelyn to manage some of the kitchen chores, but it wasn’t too bad. The loneliness was worse.

  Jesse Greenwood was back.

  She shut her eyes, as if closing them tightly enough could bid away the thought. Turning her attention to the laundry didn’t seem to do much good. While her father was bedridden, there was even more she could do to help out. He’d always clucked about her not stooping to household chores like cooking and cleaning. Or riding horses, for that matter.

  Jesse had been the one to teach her that skill, not her father. She still remembered the sight of her father being livid when she first refused to ride sidesaddle. Evelyn gave a small smile. Soon enough she was the one to beat Jesse in racing.

  How did every thought come back to him? She pulled out the laundry tub and brought it outside to where the maid, Irene, waited with piles of clothes. After checking to see she had enough soap to scrub away the grime, Evelyn walked back into the house to her father’s study.

  Too bad thinking about Jesse didn’t increase the revenue for the ranch. She had just finished the recent calculation of Breighton’s profits, or lack thereof, really. She didn’t have the heart to tell her father while he was ill. What if learning about the financial burdens made him worse? But the loan still needed to be repaid, and the next payment was due in a week. There was no choice.

  She picked up the receipt from the bank. It was possible to find paid work, but she was needed at the ranch as well. So how was she supposed to come up with that amount of money?

  “Ma’am?” Irene knocked on the open door. “Jesse Greenwood is here to see you. He’s still out on the porch right now.”

  Evelyn nearly dropped the paper in her hand. What could he be doing here? “Tell him to wait in the parlor. I will be right out.”

  Irene nodded and left to relay the message.

  Evelyn tried not to imagine all the worst-case scenarios for him to see her, but somehow she couldn’t manage to brush them away. The possibilities flashed through her mind: he was engaged; he was already married; he was here to insult her for letting him go.

  The train of thought stopped the moment she saw his silhouette against the window. He stood in the center of the parlor, his hands clutching the rim of his black hat as he looked around the room. The lace curtains framing the parlor windows served as a backdrop to outline his tall, broad frame.

  The years he’d spent away from Hamilton had changed him more than when she’d reunited with him after her time at the seminary. He’d even grown facial hair, for goodness’s sake! His jaw had been smooth as a baby’s when he was sixteen. Of course, it somehow made him look more attractive. She gulped. Nothing about him looked like the lanky teenage boy who’d left seven years ago.

  She bit her lip. Not that he would consider her as a romantic interest anymore. Not after she’d spurned him. The moment Jesse’s eyes landed on her, she felt her knees nearly buckle. When had his gaze suddenly turned so intense?

  “Ma’am.” He nodded to her. Not Eve. Not anymore. She was just another woman to him now. “Can I speak to your father?”

  “He is asleep right now.” She threw her shoulders back and feigned confidence. While her father was ill, she was the head of the ranch. “You can say whatever you need to me.”

  He tensed his shoulders. “I come to you with a business proposition.”

  “What kind of business proposal do you have in mind?” She clutched the bills tighter in her hand. His clothes looked just as expensive as her father’s. His coat was tailored and fitted, and his cheeks no longer sported the weathered look hers did. However he had spent the past few years, they’d been kind to him.

  “I own a hotel in California. As a result, I have some money that I wish to invest with. It shall accrue much more interest in a project, as opposed to sitting in a bank.”

  She held her breath. Even his language sounded more gentrified. “You wish to invest in Breighton?”

  “I noticed some of the other ranch hands have been let go. Preston told me the ranch was operating at a loss.” He shrugged. “I know Breighton. This ranch bounces back from financial trouble better than any other venture. Seems like as good of an investment as any.”

  She drew much needed confidence from his reminder. Breighton had run into trouble in the past, but her family had always made up for it and made a profit at the end of the day. It was nice to hear someone else finally share the same sentiment.

  But the tension remained. She couldn’t shake the suspicion tugging at the corner of her mind. Evelyn shifted her weight, unsure of how much to reveal.

  “Preston told you the truth. The ranch has fallen into financial trouble. I have not had the heart to tell my father yet. There are . . .” She hesitated. If Jesse was considering investing in Breighton, who was she to refuse the much-needed help? He deserved to know if he was really considering an investment in the ranch. “There are certain bank loans that need repaying.”

  “If I were to repay them, I would expect a certain cut in the profits.” His stare was stern. His hotel experience had apparently given him business sense. Yet while his voice sounded severe, there was still the same sincerity about him she remembered. Too bad she couldn’t trust his sincerity toward her. “The details can be negotiated later. But I expect to be a partner in the ranch with your father.”

  She wanted nothing more than to accept his offer right away. The ranch would bounce back eventually, she knew. But until then, the bank loans weren’t going to pay themselves.

  “I will let him know when he’s in better he
alth.” She could hardly believe her ears. All the nights she’d stayed up, worrying that the bank would seize the land, all the time she’d spent considering the different ways to allocate funds to eke out more revenue—and here Jesse showed up, answering all her prayers.

  Maybe.

  “Thank you so much. Your investment will help Breighton more than you can imagine.”

  He nodded, but there was no smile on his face. The invisible barrier between them had never been torn down, she knew. His offer was simply a financial proposal, not an offer of friendship.

  “Mind if I take a look around the place? It’s been a while.”

  “Oh, of course. I will show you around.” Evelyn opened the front door for him. They headed toward the fences in silence, the clear blue sky above them. She still couldn’t believe he was willing to help finance the ranch; a huge boulder had just been rolled off her chest. “The fences need repair. I help Preston and the other boys with that.”

  Jesse flashed a small smile, and Evelyn’s heart lifted. Maybe he was offering his friendship after all. “You help out around the ranch?”

  “There is a shortage of ranch hands right now. Some of the cowboys moved up north.” They walked past the chicken coops and headed into the barn. They strode down the aisle of horses. The mares and mustangs peered at him through the open stable doors, studying the new arrival.

  “Loretta told me about that.”

  She guided him around the corner to the cows in the barn. Jesse ran his hand along the faded red of the milking stall walls. “I don’t just want to invest in this ranch. I want to help out again as a ranch hand.”

  What fresh torture was this? There was no way she could afford to hire someone else until the ranch started making a profit again. “Oh, but there is no need. Your investment is more than I can ask for.”

  “No, I want to. I miss working in this place, as crazy as it sounds.” He turned from the stall walls to look out at the green pastures in the distance. Barbed wire fences kept the cattle from leaving as the ranch hands watched over them. “Can’t quite turn your back on it. Not a lot of green pasture out there in California.”