The Rancher's City Girl

by Patricia Johns

  “Aren’t you going to introduce this young lady?”

  “Eloise, this is my family. Everyone, this is Eloise.”

  Everyone nodded and said their hellos. Eloise looked up at him in surprise, then back at the table of people. He brought her to meet his family?

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t think they’d be here. They’re supposed to be at a cattle auction.”

  Two older men scooted down to make room at the table, and a younger man grabbed two chairs from an empty table, depositing them in the newly created gap.

  Cory and Eloise sat in the chairs provided and Eloise smiled awkwardly. She was used to diners being filled with disinterested strangers; being surrounded by a table of overly interested strangers was unnerving.

  “So.” Gloria stopped her flipping and sorting and gave Cory a grin. “How’s things?”

  The table quieted, and Eloise sensed a whole list of questions lurking beneath the surface of that query.

  Cory chuckled. “Not bad. How come you all aren’t at the auction?”

  She shrugged. “It was rescheduled.”

  A thin man sitting next to her nodded. “I heard that there are some good stud bulls this time around.”

  The waitress came by with two fresh coffee cups and handed them over. Her uniform consisted of a yellow pocketed apron on top of jeans and a tee-shirt.

  “Coffee?” she asked, a lilt in her voice.

  Eloise nodded, and the waitress filled both cups. The coffee smelled good, and she drained two creamer packets into her cup. Everyone at the table seemed to be talking to someone, and she was left mercifully alone for a moment while Cory chatted with Gloria about cattle prices.

  “So...Eloise, is it?” an older man said, drawing her attention. He wore a trucker hat with a seed logo emblazoned across the front. “How’d you two meet?”

  This question drew the attention of everyone else at the table and their conversations halted midsentence, and Eloise felt heat rise in her cheeks. She glanced at Cory, who shrugged.

  “She’s standing in as temporary medic,” Cory said. “No need to give her the third degree.”

  “Third degree?” Aunt Bea looked wounded. “Bert was just asking a question.”

  “How did he find you?” Gloria asked Eloise. “A good medic doesn’t come along every day.”

  Silence fell around the table, and all eyes shifted to Eloise.

  “I’m his father’s nurse.”

  “Your father?” Bea said, her voice quiet but carrying. “What’s this, Cory? I didn’t think you even knew who your father was.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.” Cory’s tone stayed low, but Eloise heard the tension vibrating beneath. She’d said more than she should have, she realized, and she grimaced internally.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, realizing it was too late now.

  “And you’re sure he’s your father?” Bea shook her head skeptically. “Does this man want something from you?”

  “Yes, I’m sure he’s my father. And no, he doesn’t want anything from me.” Cory sighed. “He’s dying. I’m taking the opportunity to get to know him.”

  “So you’re taking this man into your home while he dies?” his aunt concluded.

  “No. He’s only visiting. I wanted to—” Cory cleared his throat. “I only just found out about him. It’s complicated.”

  “So, who is he, exactly?” Bert cut in. “Your mother would never say.”

  “An accountant in Haggerston. Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  The silence at the table was almost deafening, and Gloria turned back to her cards, flipping and shuffling, then flipping some more. Her expression was grim.

  “I thought your mother warned you away from him,” Bea said quietly.

  “He doesn’t have a lot of time left,” Cory replied. “And he’s not a danger to anyone right now.”

  Eloise didn’t miss the anger and resentment simmering on the faces of Cory’s family. They’d obviously formed their own opinions about Cory’s father years ago.

  “So, where is he now?” Bert asked, tipping his hat back on his head.

  “He’s resting at my house, and I’d appreciate a bit of privacy with him. He doesn’t need to answer to any of you during his last days.”

  “He’s going to have to answer for a lot more than that when he meets his Maker,” Bea muttered.

  Cory eyed them, his earlier friendliness hardening. “I figure I need more answers than the rest of you do.”

  “He’s got a point,” Bert said, sipping at his coffee. “Don’t worry, Cory. We’ll give you space. Won’t we, Bea?”

  “Just don’t you trust him.” Bea waggled her finger in Cory’s direction, tears misting her eyes. “Your mama never did.”

  “I’m a grown man, Auntie,” Cory replied. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got Eloise here to keep the old guy behaving himself.”

  “So, what’s he like, dear?” Bea asked, turning her attention to Eloise. “You can see how we all feel about him, but you’ve got professional distance.”

  “He’s my patient, and I can’t discuss him,” Eloise replied, hoping her words wouldn’t offend. No one seemed to take it personally, however, and the conversation reluctantly turned toward other topics.

  Eloise glanced up at Cory, and she saw something in his dark gaze that she hadn’t expected—a deep sadness. Mr. Bessler’s actions had bled far into this family. He was no longer just a neglectful father; he was now an evil legend to the people he’d wounded most personally. She wondered what they saw in their minds when they thought about Cory’s father.

  “You okay?” Eloise murmured.

  Cory’s dark eyes met hers, but she saw a distance there. “Sure. I’m fine.” He glanced down at his watch and raised his voice to be heard by the rest of the table. “Sorry to dash, everyone.”

  Cory pushed his chair back and peeled a five off a roll of money from his front pocket, tossing it between their coffee cups. His movement was casual, but Eloise caught the tension in his stance.

  “Leaving so soon?” Bea asked, a frown creasing her brow.

  “Got to work,” he replied with a tight smile. “Still calving over there.”

  “Well, you take care of him, Eloise.”

  She nodded and smiled. Cory waved to his family and slid a warm, strong hand behind her back and propelled her through the cafe and toward the door.

  “Don’t look back,” he murmured in her ear. “Or you’ll encourage them.”

  * * *

  The truck hummed down the highway and Cory draped a hand on top of the steering wheel, the vehicle seeming to know its own way home.

  “I’m really sorry I said too much,” Eloise said, breaking the silence. “I hadn’t realized you were keeping this a secret.”

  “It’s okay.” He wasn’t angry with her. He was more irritated with himself for not anticipating that whole awkward scene. A fiery curl fell free of her loose ponytail, and it fluttered in the wind of the truck’s air-conditioning. Cory had to curb his first instinct to reach out and tuck the curl back, but he pulled his mind away from dangerous territory.

  “And you thought I’d been lonely around here.” He chuckled. “I’m related to half the county.”

  “I didn’t realize.”

  He glanced at her again. Eloise was being utterly truthful, he could tell. She was so genuine, so open. The ranching life was probably more culture shock than he’d reali
zed.

  “Life out here isn’t what you expected, is it?” he asked.

  “No.” She gave him a sidelong look. “I suppose not. But it’s nice.”

  “Yeah.” Cory flicked off the radio, and the music melted away, leaving them in quiet.

  “It’s different in a city,” Eloise said. “You can see hundreds of strangers every day and never recognize a single person.” She frowned. “Well, maybe you notice that it’s the same guy working at the newspaper stand, but you wouldn’t know him.”

  “Here, you not only know the guy, but you attended his baby’s baptism.”

  “Definitely different. Do you ever wish you had more privacy?”

  “What would I do with it?” Cory shrugged, then grinned. “Okay, maybe sometimes. Like today.”

  “Do you think they’ll tell people about your dad?” she asked.

  “Only family.” When a man was related to as many people as he was in these parts, that didn’t mean much.

  Fields of green wheat stood on either side of the road. This was Earl’s crop. A side road would divide the fields a couple of miles ahead, and that would be the beginning of his own crop. A copse shaded part of the road, and he let his eyes roam down toward Milk River as he passed. Every yard of this land rooted Cory to something bigger—faith, family, community. This land was his livelihood, but it was also part of his soul. His wheat, waving in the summer wind, just looked sweeter, somehow, than his neighbor’s.

  “So, do you ever get lonely living in the city?” Cory asked.

  Eloise laughed bitterly. “I’m a divorced woman whose friends are all married with kids. You better believe I get lonely.”

  “Did the divorce make a difference?” he asked. “With friendships, I mean.”

  “Not directly,” she admitted. “I’d get invited to a dinner party, but everyone there would come with a spouse. I’d get to know another woman at church, and then she’d find out I’m divorced and that would be the end of that.” Eloise pulled her hair away from her neck. “Well, she’d still be friendly, just more distanced, you know? She’d want to spend the weekend with her husband, and you can’t double-date with a single woman. It’s that sort of thing.”

  He nodded. “Your friends must have sided with you over your husband, though.”

  “Oh, absolutely, and I’m not complaining about my friends. But adjusting to being the divorced one was harder than I thought. It’s one of the biggest reasons I took this live-in position with your dad. Haggerston was far enough away from Billings to give me a break.”

  “Work is always a great excuse, too,” he agreed.

  Eloise nodded. “You understand.”

  “Yeah, I do. Being the guy who was left at the altar has a stigma.”

  “I imagine.” She gave him a sympathetic glance. “They haven’t forgotten?”

  “Have your friends forgotten Philip?” he countered.

  “Touché.” She stretched out her long legs. “There is a lot to do in a city to take your mind off things, though. The art museum, coffee shops, restaurants, parks, theater...”

  “Hmm.” Cory attempted to keep his tone neutral. Her list of entertainment possibilities sounded exhausting. He couldn’t imagine how fast a person would have to whip through each one to do it all in a month. He’d rather be on his horse or out in a field than trying to fit himself into a suit for museums and galleries. He didn’t find healing in crowds; he found it where he could work with his hands and pray. In his experience, God took His time when He answered. God’s answers weren’t a hundred and forty character tweets—they were breathed on the wind.

  “You don’t like going to a movie or seeing a play?” Eloise asked.

  “We do get movies out here, you know,” he teased.

  “Do you like opera? Symphonies?” she pressed.

  “Do you?”

  She was silent for a long moment, her brow furrowed. “It’s something to do.”

  “Really liking something and doing it to fill time are two different things,” Cory countered.

  “Then I suppose I moderately like those things.”

  “What do you really like?” he asked.

  Eloise didn’t answer at first. Emotion flitted across her pale features, and then she shrugged faintly. “I’m still figuring that out after the divorce.”

  “Fair enough.” He glanced over and caught her eye. “At least you know that.”

  Cory slowed when he saw the Stone Ranch sign approaching, then pulled into the drive. The tires crunched over the gravel, and a twig slapped the windshield as he eased past the lilac bushes.

  “You’re a wise man,” Eloise said quietly.

  “Not really,” he answered. “I’ve got time to think is all.”

  Eloise settled back into the seat as he drove around the familiar turns and headed toward the house. Coming home always felt good, and he remembered the excitement he’d felt as a boy when he and his mother had driven up to the house to visit his grandparents. His grandparents were gone now, of course, but he had his best friend and his wife, and he had his home. But if absolutely pressed, he’d be forced to admit that he was lonely rattling around in that house by himself.

  The next day was Sunday, and Cory was a man who prided himself on not missing a service. That was his time away from work, away from the demands of the herds, to connect with God. He glanced over at Eloise.

  “I’m going to church tomorrow,” Cory said.

  “Oh?”

  He wondered what she was thinking. Church wasn’t exactly a place for privacy, since he was related to half the people who attended. He knew he’d probably regret this tomorrow, but in the moment, all he wanted was a chance to bring her along. He wanted to sit with Eloise in his regular pew and have her next to him instead of sitting there alone thinking about her.

  “Do you want to come?” he asked.

  A smile sparkled in her eyes. “I could use some church about now.”

  Cory swung the truck into the parking spot by the house, a smile on his lips, and turned off the engine. “I’m glad you’re here, Eloise.”

  “Me, too.” Her gaze moved toward the house. “I should get in and make sure your dad’s all right.”

  “Yeah. Sure. I’ll see you later.”

  Eloise pushed open her door and hopped out of the truck, the scent of her vanilla perfume wafting out after her.

  I’d better not be getting used to this, he told himself. When she left and all of this was nothing more than a memory, the last thing he needed was longing for someone already forgetting him.

  Chapter Eight

  Sunday morning, Eloise sat next to her patient in the back of the little church. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows and fell across her lap. The pastor preached from the pulpit, but Eloise’s mind was not on the sermon. She was doing some basking—just enjoying the ambience of a quiet Sunday morning in church. The scent of furniture polish and old hymnals mingled with the medicinal smell of her patient sitting next to her.

  From his position in his wheelchair in the far aisle next to the towering stained-glass windows, Mr. Bessler stared at the worn carpet, an afghan over his legs. Sitting in church, he seemed tranquil for once, Eloise thought. The stillness seemed to calm him. If the old man needed anything, it was a little bit of serenity.

  Eloise glanced back at the thick wooden doors. Still no sign of Cory. He’d driven them there in his truck that morning, then been called away to help an uncle with something. She hadn’t caught what was going on.
Several people turned to look at Eloise and her patient in open curiosity. One small boy stared over the back of a pew, his round eyes fixed unblinkingly on Mr. Bessler. The old man took no notice.

  Father, guide me.

  These three words were all she could put together at the moment, but they encompassed her heart. Calling Cory Stone and informing him about his father had been a risk to her career. She wasn’t supposed to meddle. Somehow this trip to visit Mr. Bessler’s son was turning out to be more complicated still, and she had to push down the rising anxiety.

  Lord, I always pray for You to bring peace to my patients as they face this last stage of life, but right now I need some peace of my own, too.

  The pastor paused in his oration to turn to a passage in his Bible. The onionskin pages rustled in the microphone, and in that moment of stillness, the sanctuary door opened. Eloise glanced over as Cory stepped inside. He wore blue jeans and a starched, button-down shirt, and his boots shone.

  He looks different without the cowboy hat, she noted.

  Cory slipped into the pew next to her, the solid warmth of his arm comforting. He bowed his head and leaned closer, his breath tickling her temple.

  “Sorry about that,” he whispered. “My uncle needed a hand getting my aunt back into the car. She’s getting older, and she’s not feeling well.”

  “Have I met them?” she whispered, wondering if this was Aunt Bea.

  “No, this is actually a great-aunt. But you can be guaranteed they’ve already heard about you,” he whispered back.

  Cory waved with one finger at the wide-eyed boy, who grinned back.

  “That’s my second cousin’s kid,” he explained. “I think that makes him my third cousin.”

  Church had always been a part of Eloise’s life, but she’d attended large congregations with two or three services. Making friends in a church that size was a challenge. Small group Bible studies helped, but if you were a nurse without regular evenings off, even your best efforts left you with few church friends. Yet this little church seemed to be brimming with people who were either related to Cory or known to him. The thought amazed her.