The Rancher's City Girl

by Patricia Johns

  She’d been referring to his father at the time, but it seemed to apply to his father’s intriguing nurse, too.

  Tossing his hat onto a nail on the wall, Cory stroked Lexie’s neck. As he unbuckled the saddle, a prayer rose in his heart. Why am I doing this to myself, Father? Guide me, and take away this—whatever this is I’m feeling for her.

  Because right now, it would take some divine intervention to make him stop falling for her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Eloise shut her bedroom door and locked it. Mr. Bessler and Cory had had her in the middle of too many of their conversations, and Eloise thought it was time they were alone, so she made an excuse that she needed a little rest and escaped to the bedroom. From the kitchen, Cory’s voice rumbled, low and kind. She couldn’t make out words, but his presence was comforting somehow.

  Outside the window, dark clouds slid in slowly, thunder rumbling far in the distance, and the scent of rain slipped in through the cracked window. She paused, watching the daylight dim as the storm threatened. It always amazed her how quickly a storm could sweep across Montana, but when she was in the city, she didn’t get the same view because of the buildings. Out here there was nothing between them and the ferocity of nature. Eloise sank onto the side of her bed, embracing the luxury of solitude with her aching muscles that were already protesting the horseback ride.

  The round mirror atop the mahogany dresser reflected her face. The soft angle of her collarbone was the only part visible. Eloise pulled her hair back and looked at the makeup-free face. Life was not easy. It had proven harder for her than for many of her friends, she knew. But even with the bumps and bruises of the past few years, Eloise liked herself better now.

  She ran her fingers over her pale cheekbones, noting the slight discoloration under her eyes.

  I need more rest.

  Eloise turned away from the mirror and leaned back against the bed, heaving a sigh. Horseback riding looked so peaceful and serene on TV. In books, it sounded exhilarating. In real life, just like the rest of her life, the experience left much to be desired.

  Marriage was supposed to be happy. Hers ended miserably.

  Friends were supposed to embrace her no matter what happened in her life, but her divorce made a lot of those relationships awkward.

  Love was supposed to come along and make everything easier, but when she met a man who intrigued her for the first time since Philip left, there was nothing simple about it.

  If she had to be honest with herself, Cory did fascinate her. He was strong, confident... Dare she admit how handsome he was?

  Eloise eased herself around so that she could lay her head on the pillow, her thigh muscles on fire.

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s handsome,” she reminded herself softly.

  This was a man who lived his life with land and cattle. She was a woman who painted pictures and shopped at farmers’ markets in the city. She couldn’t help who she was. She couldn’t help who he was, and she definitely couldn’t help that they weren’t right for each other.

  Ironically, that seemed to be the one thing that hadn’t changed in her life—not being the right woman.

  Lord, why can’t I just get over this pain and move on with my life?

  From the kitchen, she heard the hum of her patient’s voice interspersed with Cory’s bass tones.

  “Be realistic, Eloise,” she murmured. “This isn’t your life.”

  This wasn’t her bedroom, and it wasn’t her land. And in a matter of days, she’d never be introduced to these particular muscles again.

  * * *

  Cory glanced out the window at the gathering storm. Wind whipped by the buildings, moaning eerily, and he flicked on the radio, waiting for a weather report. So far, it was just talk radio. He turned down the volume.

  “Do you want some tea, sir?” he asked.

  The old man shrugged. “Sure.”

  Cory looked in the direction Eloise had gone.

  “You’ve got a thing for my nurse,” his father said, chortling.

  Cory ignored the comment, grabbing a couple of tea bags instead.

  “I know her better than you do,” the old man went on.

  “I don’t want to talk about her,” Cory replied.

  “Sure you do. You just don’t want to talk about her with me.” His father raised an eyebrow. “Am I right?”

  Cory crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the old man. Robert was trying to get a rise out of him. What he hoped to gain, he had no idea. Earlier today, Cory thought he’d almost had a bonding moment with his father over the horses. Now the old man seemed more interested in baiting him.

  “She’s a good nurse and you’re fortunate she’s stuck around,” Cory said instead. “Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t run her off yet.” He gave his father a teasing grin. If his father wanted to bait someone, he’d just met his match.

  “I’m cuter than you think,” he retorted. “So, what’s holding you back from asking her out?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Fine.” The old man shrugged.

  Cory filled two mugs with steaming water from the kettle and dropped the teabags on top. He slid one across the table to his father, sending a sugar bowl after it.

  “My mother never told me much about you,” Cory said.

  “What is there to tell?” He spread his hands. “I was an accountant. I was married. I never was much to look at.”

  “What about horses?” Cory asked. “I’ve got a soft spot for Winner. He sounds a lot like Soldier.”

  “I would have trusted that horse with my life,” his father said softly. “Mind you, I wouldn’t have trusted him not to bite me. Just not to kill me.”

  Cory grinned. “I know that feeling.”

  “Eloise doesn’t seem to be a fan of horses, though.”

  “That was her first ride.”

  “And probably her last.”

  The old man was likely right, and Cory resented his accuracy. It shouldn’t matter at this point, but the fact stung, like a personal failure. Cory shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about Eloise. It’s not right to discuss her behind her back.”

  “Why? You want me to talk about my life and my personal things, but you don’t want to talk about the woman you’ve been making cow eyes at for the last week. It’s hardly fair.”

  “I’m not making cow eyes at her.”

  “But you’re attracted to her.”

  “Robert, seriously, leave her out of this.”

  The old man shot him an irritated look. “What are we supposed to talk about, then? Our warm family memories?”

  “Look, you weren’t much of a father. I’ve accepted that. Let’s just move on. Maybe get to know each other.”

  “Like friends?” his father demanded. “Am I really the kind of man you’d spend time with if you weren’t related to me?”

  Cory rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Okay, fine. We’d never spontaneously become friends otherwise, but here we are. Let’s just make the best of this. We’ve had some time together, and it hasn’t killed us yet.”

  “Tell me about your mother,” the old man said. “I’m curious about her life, what became of her.”

  “What do you want to know?” Cory asked.

  “Was she happy?”

  “No,” he replied honestly. Images of his mother swam through his mind, and most of them were of a woman with brooding eyes and a sad smile. His most vivid memory of her was her looking out the kitchen window, her expression somber and her arms crossed over her chest protectively. She tried to be cheerful for Cory, but he hadn’t been fooled.

  The old man frowned. “I thought she would have had a good life. She was the positive sort.”

  “She was melancholy, thoughtful.”
Cory sifted through his memories for an efficient description of his mother. “She was sad a lot.”

  “She wasn’t like that when I knew her. She was bubbly. Fun.”

  “If she was, it was before my time,” Cory replied. “I don’t remember her any other way.”

  “Oh, pshaw!” He shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

  “I don’t care if you do. You asked, and I answered.” The old man’s flippancy bugged him. Who did he think he was to brush off a woman’s misery?

  “And you blame me for her state of mind?”

  Cory shrugged. “I always did think it was because of you.”

  The old man frowned and leaned forward. “Why on earth would she pine for me?”

  Cory laughed softly. “She loved you. I’m not sure why, but she did. She never said a word against you, even when I wanted to believe the worst.”

  “She never got married?”

  “Never.”

  “Boyfriends?”

  “One. She dated a guy named Hank. He didn’t last, though. And there weren’t any others after him.”

  “So you think she was waiting around for me?” Uncertainty entered the old man’s quavering tone.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “No way.” His father shook his head. “Love doesn’t wait around for thirty years. Fear might. Resentment, perhaps. But not love.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Cory asked.

  “I’m not worth the wait.” He spread his hands on the table, then coughed and leaned his head back against his chair, seemingly tired.

  “Do you need a rest?” Cory asked.

  “Yes, but I think we need to talk about this.” He heaved a wheezy sigh. “Far be it from me to speak ill of the dead, but have you considered that perhaps your mother might have had some emotional problems?”

  Cory gave his father an angry glance. Emotional problems? He was going to try to call her unbalanced?

  “She was perfectly stable,” he replied coldly.

  “But not happy.”

  Cory didn’t answer. No, she hadn’t been happy much of the time. She’d been tired from work, or frustrated over the finances. There was always an excuse, but Cory had blamed his father for leaving her the way he did. Had that been childish naïveté? Had she been suffering from depression, perhaps? It was funny how a child processed these things, and sometimes in adulthood a man forgot to adjust his assumptions.

  “I don’t want to upset you,” his father said quietly. “I know how a man feels about his mother. My mother was a saint, and you can’t convince me otherwise. But sometimes things are more complicated than children realize.

  “Look at me. Do I look like the kind of guy who could ruin a woman for all other men?” The old man shook his head. “Normally, people move on and love again. That kind of pining happens in movies, not real life.”

  Cory spooned some sugar into his mug. Did his father have a point?

  “And look at you,” his father said. “I’m pretty sure you’ve loved before, but you’re considering another woman—” He laughed tiredly. “But you won’t admit it and we can’t talk about her, apparently.”

  Cory wasn’t amused and gave the old man a tight smile, then sipped his tea. His father shifted in his chair, his breath coming in audible whispers.

  “I can’t take responsibility for your mother’s unhappiness. For lying, cheating and being a general scoundrel, absolutely, but not for your mother’s choices.”

  Why didn’t she move on? Was she waiting for him to leave his wife?

  That thought hurt because it didn’t jibe with who he had believed his mother to be. She’d raised him in church, even when he’d fought against her. She’d insisted upon truthfulness and honesty. She told him that a good man was trustworthy, even in the little things. She accepted nothing less than the absolute best from him.

  As the wind rose outside and the rain pattered against the glass, he wished he’d never delved into this—never asked any questions at all. He’d rather remember his mother on a pedestal than know the worst about both of his parents.

  Eloise padded into the kitchen, a sweater around her shoulders. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a loose T-shirt, her feet bare. She glanced uneasily toward the window.

  The DJ stopped his banter and Cory leaned over to turn up the volume. “A severe weather warning has been issued for Blaine County. Strong winds, rain, hail and lightning are expected. Prepare accordingly.”

  Cory pushed himself to his feet. He knew what that meant, and his work was just about to start in earnest. His mind revved forward to what they’d have to get done in the next couple of hours—bringing in the horses and cattle, separating the pregnant cows...the list went on. He wanted to get out there as soon as possible to give Zach a hand and get the ranch hands organized.

  “Find the candles,” he said, heading into the mudroom. “They’re under the sink, and you’ll probably need them. We always lose power in the big storms.”

  “Is everything okay?” Eloise asked, her face appearing around the corner of the mudroom.

  “I’ve got to get the animals into the barn. We have some new calves, and they need shelter.” He slammed his feet into his boots and grabbed an oiled raincoat. “And Eloise?”

  “Hmm?” Worry flickered in her green eyes.

  He dropped his hat on his head. “Stay put. These storms can get really bad.”

  He caught her gaze and held it, willing her to understand the dangers that he had no time to explain.

  “Okay?” he said. “I’m serious. Stay put.”

  She nodded. With that, he pulled open the door and stepped out into the wind.

  * * *

  Eloise’s stomach tightened as the rain pounded against the glass. A sick greenish color seeped through the clouds, and the wind shrieked past the house, as if it were moaning in agony. Mr. Bessler had already gone for a long sleep and had woken up again, but Cory had not returned.

  “What’s taking so long?” Mr. Bessler asked uneasily. “He’s been gone this whole time, right?”

  “This is a big ranch.”

  What did she know? She only meant to reassure her patient, and herself. The storm had whipped itself up into a frightening fury, rain lashing the house, wind howling around buildings and lightning cracking across the sky with heart-stopping thunder.

  “I’ve never seen a storm last this long,” Mr. Bessler murmured.

  The lights flickered, then went out, sinking them into dusk-like darkness. Eloise heaved a sigh. Cory had warned them. A lightning bolt illuminated the room in a flash; then all was dim once more.

  “Are you all right, Robert?” she asked.

  “Fine, fine, I’m not a baby,” the old man muttered.

  Eloise pulled out the candles and opened the box of matches, but then a thought occurred to her.

  “Do you need your oxygen? Lighting candles next to oxygen isn’t a great idea, so—”

  “No.” His slippers swished against the floor as he rolled in her direction. “I’m fine. Go ahead.”

  Eloise lit two of the candles and carried them to the kitchen table. The flickering light pulled Eloise and Mr. Bessler toward the warm glow. A dribble of wax slid down the side of one, and Eloise leaned her head back, listening as the rain pelted the window panes. Outside, between crashes of thunder, a strange noise filtered through. Mr. Bessler shifted in his chair, and then she saw the urn in his hands.

  “Robert, why do you have Ruth’s ashes?” she asked.

  “I—” He looked down at the urn. “I was going to remind you that I need to scatter them.”

  “I know.” She nodded. “We’ll be sure to do that.”

  Mr. Bessler put the urn on the table. Eloise had a feeling that he just missed Ruth and liked to have her close
in whatever way he could. A sound caught her attention from outside, and she frowned.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked.

  “Hear what?”

  Eloise paused again to listen but didn’t hear anything past the howling wind.

  “It’s gone.” She shrugged. “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”

  The old man shook his head. “You’re always trying to feed me.”

  “You need to keep your strength up.”

  “For what?” he asked sarcastically. “To grow up strong and healthy?”

  Eloise rolled her eyes. “Everyone needs to eat.”

  The wind died down for just a moment, and Eloise heard the noise again, this time quite clearly.

  “That!” she said. “Did you hear that?”

  “It’s a cow,” Mr. Bessler replied. “A calf, actually.”

  Eloise rose to her feet and peered out the window, shading her eyes to see as far as she could into the murky downpour. The thin wail from the calf wound around the thunderclaps and patter of rain.

  “Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly.

  “Definitely. That’s how they call their mothers.”

  “Poor thing...” Eloise looked back at her patient, who sat comfortably at the kitchen table, then turned toward the door, listening. “It must be terrified. There were some newborns today, you know. It might be one of them.”

  The calf bawled again, and Eloise went to the window and attempted to see through the rain. Her heart went out the calf, alone and afraid in the storm.

  “Robert, I can’t leave that animal out there.”

  “Cory told you stay put.”

  She remembered Cory’s warning, and she looked back out the window.

  “It can’t be far if we can hear it.”

  “Then go get it,” the old man said.

  The thought had only half formed in her mind, but when Mr. Bessler said it so matter-of-factly, she wondered if she could. It was a baby and needed help—why not see?

  “Will you be okay by yourself?”