But then he parked.
Debi was growing increasingly aware that the people in this area seemed to march to an entirely different drummer than she was accustomed to, but she just couldn’t reconcile herself to the fact that the medical clinic was being run out of a diner.
But he was parking here, and this place was really different from anything she was familiar with back home.
The best way to find out, she decided, was just to ask.
“We’re stopping?” She put the question to Jackson as he turned off the ignition and pocketed the key.
“Sure looks that way,” he replied, an easy, laid-back drawl curling itself around each word.
Jackson couldn’t readily explain why, but the way she seemed to be puzzled by the simplest things amused him—in a good way.
Still, he knew enough about women to know that they didn’t like being the source of someone else’s amusement, so he kept his reaction to himself. It was undoubtedly safer that way.
Getting out of the cab of his truck, Jackson rounded the hood and came over to her side. He saw that she hadn’t opened the passenger door yet, so he opened it for her.
She appeared to be looking at the diner uncertainly.
“The doctors practice out of a diner?” Debi asked incredulously.
He thought of the time that Lady Doc, Alisha—the newest addition to the medical clinic—had treated Nathan McLane, the saloon’s best customer, for a ruptured appendix. She’d examined the man on the floor of Murphy’s, where he had collapsed.
“The docs practice wherever they’re needed,” he responded vaguely.
Jackson knew he should have set the record straight immediately as to why he’d stopped here, but he had a feeling that if he said, right off the bat, that he was bringing her here so that Miss Joan could meet her, Ryan’s sister would balk at that. Not that there would be any harm done. He’d tell Debi soon enough.
Debi got out of the truck, but then remained where she stood, staring at the gleaming silver structure. “Are you telling me that the clinic is actually located inside a diner?”
“No, but I thought you might want to get a feel for the people in Forever before you offer your services to the docs. This way, you’ll have an idea of what you’re getting yourself into.”
Was he warning her? Or trying to scare her off? She couldn’t quite make up her mind about that.
“You make it sound like I’ll be making a deal with the devil instead of just making a temporary arrangement to work.” That was all she was after, something temporary, just until Ryan was ready to go home. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be any longer than a month, tops.
“Oh, no, not with the devil,” Jackson assured her. “But being part of Forever—even temporarily—takes commitment and hard work.”
Did he think she wasn’t up to that? She’d worked hard for every single thing she’d ever gotten. “I’m not a stranger to hard work,” she informed him with a touch of indignation.
“Good to hear that,” he said so casually, she wondered if he had heard her at all and was merely paying lip service. “C’mon,” he went on, “I want to introduce you to someone.”
Going up the two steps to the diner, he pulled open the door and held it for her.
Well, at least they didn’t lack manners here, she thought.
The second she walked in, the noise level in the partially filled diner—it wasn’t lunchtime yet—began to abate until, thirty seconds into her entrance, the noise factor went down to zero.
People seated at the counter as well as in the booths lining the windows turned to look at her.
The red-haired older woman behind the counter paused as she was setting down someone’s order. For a split second, the customer appeared to be forgotten.
Sharp hazel eyes swiftly took in the length and breadth of the stranger.
“You brought me a new face, Jackson,” the woman said, raising her gravelly voice in order to be heard across the diner.
Debi felt as if she was on display, but her instincts told her that there was no getting around this, not if she intended to remain in this small, backwater town for the duration of Ryan’s stay.
And she did.
Debi found the thought of going back home to her empty apartment completely soul draining. Without anyone to talk to there, she would have nothing to do once she got back but dwell on her failed marriage and her failed efforts at raising her very troubled younger brother. Not exactly a heartening scenario.
And what if something went wrong on the ranch while Ryan was there?
Or what if Ryan ran away?
The thought of being almost fifteen hundred miles away at a time like that and being unable to immediately get involved in the search to find him and bring him back to the ranch was something she refused even to contemplate. It was completely unacceptable to her.
She had no choice but to remain in Forever. And if she was to remain here for the duration—however long that might be—then she needed to be able to earn a living. And that meant that she was going to be interacting with the citizens of this collar button of a town. Withdrawing into her shell was not an option that was open to her no matter how enticing it might be.
The woman with the bright orange hair beckoned to her.
“C’mon closer, darlin’, I don’t bite,” the woman promised.
“Don’t you believe it,” someone within the diner piped up, then laughed at his own statement.
“Don’t listen to him, honey. He’s just sore because I made him finally pay up his tab.” Hazel eyes drew in closer as Miss Joan continued to scrutinize the young woman with Jackson. “So, you passing through or staying?” she asked.
“A little of both,” Jackson volunteered before Debi could say anything.
Miss Joan looked at him.
“What’s the matter?” she asked Jackson sharply. It was a tone of voice almost everyone in Forever was familiar with. “The girl can’t speak for herself?”
Debi straightened her shoulders as her eyes met Miss Joan’s. “Of course I can speak for myself,” she replied with just a trace of defensiveness.
The next moment, she upbraided herself for her lack of discipline. She was the outsider in this town. If she hoped to fit in, at least marginally, she was going to have to watch that.
Belatedly, Debi offered the woman behind the counter a shy smile.
“So you can.” Miss Joan nodded her approval. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Deborah Kincannon,” Debi answered.
Again, the woman nodded in response. “I expect you already know who I am. So, Deborah Kincannon, what brings you to our town?” When the young woman didn’t answer her immediately, Miss Joan glanced over at Jackson. “Guess it’s your turn to play ventriloquist again.” Although her expression never changed, this time around, her voice sounded far less gruff.
Jackson looked over in the younger woman’s direction to make sure he wasn’t stepping on anyone’s toes before he answered Miss Joan’s question.
“Her brother Ryan’s going to be staying at the ranch for a while.”
Miss Joan’s hazel eyes softened as they regarded the new woman at the counter for a moment. “Oh, I see. Well, it’s a damn fine place to stay,” the diner owner said to no one in particular and everyone in general. “Some pretty worthwhile people have put in their time at The Healing Ranch.”
As she spoke, Miss Joan placed an empty cup and saucer on the counter, then proceeded to fill the cup with coffee that looked blacker than a raven’s wing.
With the cup three-quarters full—leaving room for cream if any was desired—she moved it in front of the young woman Jackson had brought in.
Debi looked down at the cup. She was husbanding every dime she had. She couldn’t afford to just throw money around, even
for something as relatively inexpensive as a cup of coffee. Until she was assured of securing that job at the clinic that Jackson had told her about, every penny was precious and counted.
“I’m sorry, there’s been a mistake. I didn’t ask for any coffee,” Debi told her politely, moving the cup and saucer back.
Miss Joan offered her a steely glimmer of a smile as she gently pushed the cup and saucer back in front of her. “First cup is always on the house,” Miss Joan told her. “House rules,” she added in case more of a protest was coming.
Debi found the woman’s smile a little unnerving. A frown looked to be more at home on the woman’s lean face, she couldn’t help thinking.
She gave it half a minute. The smile, such as it was, remained. Maybe the woman’s offer was on the level, Debi decided.
“Thank you,” Debi murmured, bringing the coffee closer to her. It smelled delicious.
“You can sit, you know,” Miss Joan told her, gesturing at the empty stools that were directly behind her. “There’s no extra charge for that.”
As if on cue—and to show her how it was done—Jackson slid onto the stool that was next to the one behind her.
At this point, standing there was beginning to make her feel awkward, so Debi slid onto the stool that was right behind her.
Miss Joan moved both the creamer and the shaker of sugar over to her. The brief flash of a smile seemed to say that the diner owner knew she was a cream-and-sugar person.
“So, where are you from?” Miss Joan asked without the slightest bit of hesitation, or even the hint of a preamble.
Debi took a long sip of coffee first before answering quietly, “Indianapolis.”
Miss Joan’s expression gave nothing away. “Nice place to be from,” she agreed. “Dropping the boy off and going back?” she questioned casually.
Debi’s immediate reaction was to say that that was no one’s business except for the man who had brought her here, and that was only because he would need to know how to get in touch with her. But the survival instincts that had gotten her this far warned Debi that her words might give offense to the woman. She had the very strong feeling that Miss Joan was someone she would rather have on her side than not.
“No, I’m going to stay in Forever until Mr. White Eagle thinks Ryan can be taken home.” God, but that made Ryan sound like he was a cake or something. When a cake was baked and cooled, then it could be transported.
Miss Joan looked over toward Jackson, then back to the young woman he’d brought with him. “Mr. White Eagle, eh?” Miss Joan chuckled to herself, clearly amused. And then she became more businesslike again. “You know, I could use a little help behind the counter,” she said, approaching the offer she was about to make slowly and tendering it to Jackson as if he was the intermediary in this scenario. “Nothing major, just a few hours a day. Maybe some help with the inventory,” she added, her eyes meeting Jackson’s.
“Debi’s a surgical nurse,” Jackson told the older woman. “I’m going to bring her to the clinic since they could always use some help.” His mouth curved into an easy, friendly smile, one she hadn’t witnessed yet, Debi caught herself thinking. “But I thought she should meet the queen bee first.”
Miss Joan leveled a long, scrutinizing gaze at the young man she had known since before he took his first step, thanks to Sam.
She pretended to be displeased with the label he had just given her. “Don’t get sassy with me, boy. If I were ‘the queen bee,’ you can bet your bottom that I would have stung you a long time ago.”
Debi looked from the woman to Jackson, wondering if this was an argument because of her, or if Miss Joan was just bandying words about. The woman didn’t appear to be particularly annoyed. Then again, Debi really didn’t know her at all. Maybe this was the older woman’s annoyed expression.
Unable to decide, Debi took refuge in the cup of coffee that Miss Joan had placed before her. The coffee was light enough, but it still hadn’t reached its maximum sweetness level. She added another teaspoon of sugar, then took another tentative sip. Satisfied with the results, Debi drank up in earnest.
Aware that the woman was watching her—and rather intently at that—she assumed that Miss Joan wanted to know what she thought of the coffee, so she offered her a smile and murmured, “Good.”
The corners of Miss Joan’s thin lips curved so slightly anyone with challenged eyesight would not have been able to detect the difference.
“I know,” she replied as she went back to her other customers, leaving the duo alone.
For now.
“Did I pass inspection?” Debi asked in a whisper, holding the cup in front of her lips so that if Miss Joan looked over in her direction, the woman wouldn’t see them moving. There was no doubt in Debi’s mind that Miss Joan probably knew how to read lips.
Amusement glinted in Jackson’s deep sky-blue eyes. “Yes.”
He sounded convinced. However, she wasn’t. Just what did he know that she didn’t? Or was he just trying to placate her?
“How can you tell?” Debi asked.
Jackson smiled, his amusement very evident. For just a second, he felt like a guide, unveiling a national treasure. Had circumstances been different, he could have been talking to Debi about his aunt instead of just the very unique and unorthodox owner of the town’s only restaurant.
“If you didn’t,” he told her knowingly, “you would have heard about it. Trust me.” Having finished his own cup of coffee, he gave no indication that he was about to get up. Instead, he nodded at her cup. “When you’re finished, I’ll take you to the clinic.”
Debi was eager to have her situation resolved and on an even keel—or as even a keel as her circumstances allowed. She drained the rest of her coffee with one long swig. Swallowing, she set the cup down in its saucer, and said, “Finished.”
Jackson suppressed a laugh. He hadn’t expected her to gulp down her coffee.
This woman might be interesting after all.
“Then I guess we’re good to go,” he responded.
Jackson finished the last of his own coffee and set the cup down. Looking about the diner, he saw Miss Joan and nodded at the woman as if to say goodbye.
The next second, he was leading the way to the door. He didn’t expect to have Debi suddenly ease herself in front of him and go outside first.
Why was she in such a hurry? Was it merely because she was anxious about getting a job at the clinic—or was there another reason for her all but racing outside of the diner?
Debi squeezed past the cowboy and went through the exit first. When he joined her outside the silver structure, she turned around and blurted out, “Is she like that with everyone?”
Now he understood her hurry to leave the diner. For some, Miss Joan was an acquired taste. Even he would admit that the woman did take some getting used to.
When his stepmother had died, Miss Joan had stepped in, like family, and had taken care of details he would have never even thought to attend to. Without so many words, she was there to provide emotional support, as well, if either he or Garrett needed it. In Garrett’s case, Sylvia had been his mother, so making it through the first few days and then weeks had been difficult—and would have been even more so without Miss Joan.
“Absolutely,” he was quick to assure her. “You always know where you stand with Miss Joan. She doesn’t believe in playing games or fabricating stories. Miss Joan is the real deal,” he told Debi. And then, as if reading her mind, he added, “She can come on pretty crusty at times.”
Now that was an understatement if she’d ever heard one. “I’ll say.”
“But there’s nobody I’d rather have in my corner,” he said with conviction. “When she’s with you, she’s with you a hundred and ten percent. Not to mention that the woman has a heart of gold.”
He could
see that Debi needed convincing of that. Jackson thought of telling her about Sylvia, but that felt too personal. Fortunately, there was more than one story.
“One winter was particularly bad here. Crops had failed, a lot of people were out of work. And things were particularly bad on the reservation. Miss Joan made sure her food trucks made it there every week until things turned around. Wouldn’t take a penny, either. Said they could pay her when they were back on their feet. Turned out she was losing money right and left. But, being Miss Joan, she didn’t say a word about it. When someone found out and asked how she could get by, she said that wasn’t anyone’s business but her own.” He smiled to himself as he started up his truck again. It wasn’t far from the diner to the clinic, but, being tired, he figured Debi would prefer not to walk. “A lot of folks around here think of her as the town’s guardian angel. Nobody says anything like that to her face, of course, because they know she’d probably let loose with a string of words that would more than fill up ten swear jars,” he told Debi. “Still, I think she’d be secretly tickled to hear that we think of her that way.
“Looks like they’ve got another full day,” Jackson said in the next breath as he drew near the medical clinic. There were all manner of vehicles parked in front of the single-story building as well as close by. “You are really going to make their day,” he predicted as he looked for a place to park.
I hope so, Debi thought, mentally crossing her fingers.
Chapter Seven
Holly Rodriguez pushed a wayward, stubborn strand of dark blond hair out of her blue eyes. It just annoyingly refused to stay put and she had no time to fuss with it. The day felt as if it was spinning out of control and she barely had time to breathe, much less fuss with her hair.
As happened on a tediously regular basis, she’d wound up pulling double duty at the clinic. That meant that she had to periodically return to the front desk and act as what had once been referred to, generations ago, as a “Girl Friday”—which meant that she had to do whatever it took to keep the office, or in this case, the clinic, running as smoothly as was humanly possible.
The Cowboy and the Lady Page 7
