by Janet Dailey
“Hello, Mr. Barnett,” she said. “I know you weren’t expecting me, but here I am.”
“How about that.” Sam Barnett looked her up and down, a twinkle suddenly brightening his blue eyes. “Ain’t you a pretty gal. Son, you just made my day.” He grinned at Choya. “Where’d you find her?”
Choya grinned back, like he was about to say something like oh, by the side of the road. Jacquie visibly braced herself. Now that she’d arrived in the back of nowhere, she realized that she hadn’t given any thought to the reality of living in an all-male household. The inevitable comments and jokes were going to wear thin fast.
Sam, who didn’t seem to miss much, noticed her silent discomfort.
“Oh, Lord,” he said, abashed. “What did I just say?”
“Start over. With hello.” Choya shot him a warning look.
“Well, then—hello. And pardon me, miss,” Sam began hesitantly. “I’m just not used to having ladies around. I do try to watch my language around the boy, though.” His eyes crinkled as they took her in from head to toe. “You ain’t from around here, are you?”
“No.” She shook her head, feeling truly defeated.
“Jacquie is from Texas,” Choya inserted. “Dallas, to be exact.”
“I went there once. Big cars and bigger buildings. I couldn’t wait to get back here where a man can breathe. So what brought you to Tombstone, Miss Grey?”
“You can call me Jacquie,” she said as politely as she could.
Choya took over from there. “She was just passing through but she had to stop. Car trouble. Turned out to be a major repair job too. And then her wallet with all her money was lost. She’s here temporarily until she can earn enough to pay that bill and put by some traveling cash.”
Sam Barnett nodded sagely. “I see. But can’t her folks help?”
“Ah—Jacquie’s the independent type. She doesn’t want to ask her folks for a penny if she can possibly help it.”
Jacquie nodded. If that was going to be the official story, she’d stick to it. At some point she would be alone with Sam Barnett and he would want to know all about her over a friendly cup of coffee. It was just as well that the introduction was simple and straightforward and easy to remember.
“I see,” his father said approvingly.
Inwardly she sighed. The way her dad had refused to talk to her still stung. She’d been casual about it at the time, preferring to keep Choya in the dark. But now, picking up on the easy camaraderie and trust between Choya and his father, she felt a little envious.
That—and homesick. The green-shaded neighborhood where she’d grown up seemed very far away. And so did all its conveniences. She shifted her bag to the other shoulder and surveyed the landscape again. It occurred to her that it was actually a good thing that her car was safely parked in back of the service station in Tombstone. The deep ruts on these backcountry roads and cow tracks would have jolted the axles apart in less than a mile.
“Now, we’re forgettin’ our manners,” Sam said to his son with joking sternness. “No more jawin’.” The old man turned his attention to her. “Miss Jacquie, you come on in.” He waved her inside with a gallant gesture. “We got a nice little room for ya behind the kitchen, but I gotta sweep it out. Let’s see, there’s some clean sheets in the linen closet—and I have to take a pillow from Robbie’s bed—”
The last statements were mumbled to himself as he made a verbal list of the things that needed to be done. He pivoted with difficulty, leaning heavily on a cane that Jacquie just noticed in his right hand. Awkwardly he hobbled into the house, depending on the cane for support.
Choya stepped aside to follow her into the house. Jacquie walked into an austerely furnished living room. A blackened fireplace of natural stone was on the far outside wall. The long sofa was covered with a Navajo blanket, the only vivid color in the room. Two large chairs sat opposite it, one with a footstool and reading lamp beside it. An antique rolltop desk was against one wall where rows of shelves were lined with books. Oak floors gleamed satin smooth. For a male household, everything was surprisingly clean and tidy.
A long, white-walled hallway branched off to the left from the living room, but Choya indicated the direction his father had gone. The short hallway he took led into the kitchen.
The room was dominated by a large, painted wood table in the center with a red-checked vinyl tablecloth on its top. The wood cupboards were old and painted white, and a large porcelain sink gaped in a yellowing countertop. The refrigerator was modern, and she noticed a microwave, but the gas stove looked like an antique. The floor was tiled and continued in a short stretch to an outside door.
In between the back of the kitchen and the outside door was a second door. It was this door that was Sam Barnett’s destination. Leaning on his cane, he pushed it open and waited for Jacquie.
“It’s not much,” he said, “but it gives you some privacy from the rest of the house.”
By that, Jacquie guessed that he meant the other rooms on the first floor didn’t lead into it or to it. The bedrooms had to be upstairs in the half-story she’d noticed. She darted a sideways glance at Choya, wondering if he minded that she wasn’t close to whatever room it was that he slept in.
Tough luck if he did. Rule Two was that she got her own room and no one came in without knocking. She was half-tempted to post the written-out list of rules they’d both agreed to on her door. It was short and to the point.
Rule Three: she got paid in cash at the end of every week. Rule Four: she got to make up any other rules she thought were necessary and he had to say yes to them.
Posting the list seemed like the wrong move, though she suspected Choya was going to need some reminding now and then. But if they were on her door, Sam would peruse them and so would Robbie. One look at it and shrewd old Mr. Barnett was likely to guess more than she wanted him to know.
Choya gave her a bland smile. Jacquie shot him a warning look, thinking that the room’s distance from the others could be a disadvantage as well. If he wandered into the kitchen for a late-night cup of cocoa, he might try to strike up a conversation that could lead to another violation of Rule One. She swept past him to where his father was standing and looked in.
The room was small. A double bed sat in one corner, taking up most of the floor space not occupied by a chest of drawers, metal shelves and a straight-backed chair. A plain braided rug was on the floor in front of the bed. It was a starkly simple room, serving its purpose without any attempt to please the eye.
Choya walked in and set her suitcases on the bed. “You can unpack,” he said. “I think I’ll pick up Robbie at school so he doesn’t have to take the bus. He’ll want to see you right away.” Then, turning to the tall, gaunt man looking in, he said, “I won’t be home for lunch, Sam.”
A silent message must have accompanied his statement, because the older man nodded and limped away from the doorway. Jacquie tensed, wary now that Choya apparently wanted to see her alone. She decided it was better to ask questions than wait for orders.
“Is your father expecting a hot meal or is a sandwich okay?”
“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “You’re not on duty yet. I’m sure he’d rather see you settled in than anything else.”
“Just thought I’d get started. I want to work off my debt as fast as possible, so I may be putting in overtime.”
“Doing what?” he smirked. “We go to bed by ten around here.”
Jacquie understood. “Don’t be disgusting.” Too bad he’d insisted on adding Rule Five, his sole contribution to the list. No slapping.
“Sorry.” His mouth straightened. “I’ll try to behave. Make yourself at home while I’m gone.”
“Okay,” Jacquie muttered, wondering why she’d ever thought this was a good idea. Choya’s golden gaze moving over her made her feel warm all over. She knew only too well how dangerously attractive he was to her.
He gave a resigned sigh. “Need anything from town?”
; “No.” She pushed her hair back over her shoulders. She could feel the grit in it. What she wanted more than anything right now was a long, hot shower.
Choya stopped at the motel first to tell Mrs. Chase he’d hired Jacquie as a temporary housekeeper and that she would be staying at the ranch. Lulu hadn’t seen them leave—Jacquie had left the keycard in the box provided for that purpose and a note on the counter because the motel owner had stepped out of the office.
Which meant that the rest of Tombstone wouldn’t know they’d left either. Fine with Choya.
Mrs. Chase gave him a big hug and congratulated him on not being a total fool. Then she wished him the best of luck and sent him out with a white-chocolate snowman for Robbie.
A few minutes later, he pulled his jeep into the school parking lot and waited in the area set aside for parents picking up kids. Robbie wasn’t used to seeing him there, so Choya claimed a spot in front where he’d be fully visible to the kids pouring out the doors when the final bell rang. Robbie went a lot slower than they did lately, what with the crutches. But a couple of his pals always stayed with him and made sure he got out okay.
He heard the ringing inside the low brick building and waited. One minute later, a school aide came out the door and stood to one side, clutching the metal handle. A herd of youngsters stampeded out, ignoring her admonitions to walk, not run, and shouting over her requests that they pipe down. In a flash they scattered to waiting cars or joined little groups of kids hoofing it home. The children who lived farther out headed for the two school buses outside the parking lot.
He wanted to head off Robbie before he did the same. Choya caught a glimpse of the bright blue cast just before his son swung out the doors, his school backpack over one shoulder. He got out of the jeep and called to him. Robbie looked his way with surprise, then came over on the double.
“Dad! Why are you here?”
Choya ruffled his hair. “I was in town. Just thought you and I could drive home together for a change.”
“Didja have another rancher meeting?”
“Nope. I was running errands.”
Robbie let his father pick him up and deposit him on the passenger seat, then slid his backpack into the footwell.
“How was school?” Choya asked as he got in around the other side.
“It was okay,” Robbie said. “I got an A on my science test. It was easy.”
“Good. I’m proud of you. How about we get some ice cream to celebrate?”
“Sure!”
Choya waited until after they’d polished off two cones between them and gotten back in the jeep to tell Robbie that Jacquie was at the house. The boy looked at him with joyous disbelief. “She is? How come?”
“Well, that car of hers is going to take longer to fix than we all thought, for one thing. So she’s going to stay with us for a while. Help fix lunch for your gramps, maybe do a little housework.”
“Really?” Robbie’s tone was quiet but he was clearly thrilled. “For how long?”
“I’m not sure. But probably for several weeks. Maybe longer. And you’re not to give her any trouble.”
“I wouldn’t! Not ever! I promise to pick up my clothes and stuff. Every day.”
“Well, that’s a first,” his father said wryly, pulling out of the parking space and heading for the road that led out of Tombstone. “Hey, I have something for you from Mrs. Chase. Go ahead and eat it now. What’s the difference?”
“Thanks!” Robbie leaned back and unwrapped the foil from the snowman. He picked off the sugar carrot nose and the dark chocolate buttons, eating those before the body. All of a sudden he sat up straight, resting his hands on the dashboard. “Dad . . . wait. Pull over. Right here.”
“Why?” Choya looked through the windshield. Either Robbie had spotted an armadillo in danger of becoming roadkill or there was a golden eagle in the sky. He didn’t see anything ahead of the jeep or above it. But he did what Robbie requested and pulled over in back of the sign that welcomed visitors to Tombstone.
Robbie had lifted up his backpack and unzipped it, looking for something.
“What’s up, son?”
“You’ll see.” His fingers curled around something small as he unlatched the door with his other hand. “Can you put me on your shoulders?”
“Huh?” Choya gave the boy a baffled look. “What for?”
“Please,” Robbie begged. “Please just do it.”
Choya shrugged and got out, lifting Robbie with ease from the passenger side. Getting a kid with a cast on his leg onto his shoulders was harder, but they managed it. “You’re a little old for this,” Choya pointed out. “And quit kicking me. How’s the view?”
“Great,” Robbie said with satisfaction. “Now go to the front of the sign.”
His father complied, pausing in front of it. The sign said what it always did.
W ELCOME TO TOMBSTONE, ARIZONA
THE TOWN TOO TOUGH TO DIE
POPULATION: 1,060
“So what’s this all about? Is this a school assignment?” he asked Robbie.
“Nope. Can you get closer?”
“Okay. How’s that?”
“A little more closer. Good. Thanks, Dad.”
Choya looked up and saw his son reach out with the stub of an old crayon. So that’s what he’d had in his hand. Robbie crossed out the final zero in the population number and wrote in a one above it.
“Population one thousand and sixty-one. For Jacquie.”
Choya chuckled and the boy on his shoulders wobbled, unbalanced by the leg in the cast. “Stop it, Dad!”
“I sure hope the sheriff doesn’t drive by and see us,” Choya said, surveying the empty road.
“You can explain,” Robbie said seriously. “Wait. Don’t move.” He reached out again and wrote something in straggling capital letters next to the changed number.
Choya peered at the letters: J.A.K.K.Y. He shook with laughter and Robbie dropped the crayon.
“So she’ll know it’s for her,” Robbie explained. “Is that how you spell her name?”
“Close enough. Let’s get out of here.”
“Do you think she’ll like it that I did that, Dad?”
Choya paused to adjust the boy on his shoulders. “I hope so,” he said in a gruff voice.
Chapter 6
Jacquie turned toward the suitcases, resting her hands on top of one. What had she let herself in for? She honestly hadn’t realized until her arrival just how far away and lonesome the Barnett ranch was. Choya had said there might not be much to do for someone who was used to city living. But he’d added that the rugged land and the constantly changing sky above it had a way of captivating the imagination. His brief description made it sound almost romantic. So far . . . it wasn’t. Too eager to find a solution that didn’t involve money from home, she hadn’t asked enough questions about where he lived. Or anything else.
The small window in the room offered a view of the mountains, no longer remote but broodingly close. For a few seconds she entertained the wild idea of just running away, then shook her head, sitting down disconsolately on the bed.
Once again she’d made a rash decision without thinking it through. She’d landed herself in the middle of nowhere without a way to call home, if it came to that. On her first tour of the house, she hadn’t seen a landline phone in the living room or one on the kitchen wall. Choya probably relied on a cell phone and as for Sam—who knew? Jacquie hadn’t seen a satellite dish attached to the house either, so there probably wasn’t TV service or an internet connection.
There were books to read. There was Sam. She could talk to him. And there was Robbie. She could talk to him too. He’d probably be very happy to introduce her to Gila monsters and other interesting wildlife. She shuddered. But she would shake claws with one for his sake.
She told herself she couldn’t give up this quickly, not without a cent to her name and no way to skedaddle out of here. Then Jacquie heard a shuffling noise and stood up.
&n
bsp; Sam Barnett limped to the doorway of her room. Instead of his cane, he was using a straw broom for support. Fighting to get a grip on her composure, Jacquie could only manage a sideways glance at him as he began awkwardly pushing the broom around on the tiled floor.
“I’ll do that,” she said quickly, unable to be idle while an elderly man, practically crippled with arthritis, cleaned her room.
He hesitated, then handed her the broom. “I been doin’ all this for so many years, it’s going to seem strange havin’ someone else do the work.” He didn’t hurry out of the room. “Fact is, Choya’s wife—she died several years ago—well, she left most of the housework to me. And my own Gladys has been gone for over thirty-six years. This house hasn’t known a woman to take care of it. I guess it don’t look like much.”
“It’s a very nice home.” It was on the tip of Jacquie’s tongue to ask whether there was a phone or a satellite dish, but she decided against it. He probably wanted to chat.
“I’ll go fetch the sheets.” Sam Barnett turned, keeping a balancing hand on the wall, and limped from the room.
Maybe not.
Jacquie stood for silent seconds, then began sweeping the room. She had completed that and was stoically unpacking when Sam returned with the clean bedsheets. He stayed this time, keeping up a steady monologue of his first years on the ranch. At appropriate spots, Jacquie made suitable responses, wondering with an inward smile if he would ever run out of anecdotes.
When she was finished, he showed her the parts of the house she hadn’t seen. She found nothing unexpected. All the rooms were plain and serviceable. Then it was back to the kitchen where he suggested a late lunch. Sandwiches would be fine, he said, explaining that his appetite wasn’t what it used to be.
Jacquie was relieved. She was hungry but doubted that the nervous churning of her stomach would let a heavy meal stay down.
He gave her the cook’s tour, pointing out the pantry, which was well-stocked with staples, and where they kept utensils, cutlery, and dishes.
