Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1)

by Martha Shields

  Hank’s eyes rested on his sister, but he couldn’t really blame her. He’d thrown the housework at Claire when their second cook left, thinking she could cope with it at age eleven.

  The heavy weight of responsibility he’d carried for eight years descended again. It had been weighing him down since his parents died and left him a ranch deep in debt and two young siblings to raise. Every time he thought he’d lifted that weight—when he’d begun recording ranch operations with black ink instead of red; when Travis left to make his fortune on the rodeo circuit; when he realized Claire was finally grown—it descended again. Each time it came down heavier than before. Each time it made him chafe at the bit a little harder.

  He hadn’t asked for this responsibility. He’d been a happy-go-lucky cowboy riding rough stock in every rodeo he could. He’d reveled in the hard life of a rodeo cowboy. He liked the hard bed of the camper on the back of his truck. He drank hard and loved every woman he could get his hands on. He knew he would inherit the Garden one day, but he always thought that day wouldn’t come until he’d grown too old for the circuit and settled down on the ranch with one of the curvaceous buckle bunnies he met along the way. He’d expected to raise his own children, not his brother and sister. He’d expected the ranch to feel like security, not a millstone.

  Hank met Alex’s questioning eyes. This little lady had been at the Garden all of five days and already she was turning his life upside-down and inside-out If he wasn’t pondering the way her jeans clung to her round hips instead of taking care of the ranch paperwork, he was dusting off his pants before he sat down on a chair.

  Trouble was, Alex was absolutely right. He hadn’t treated this house like a home, because it didn’t feel like his home. It still felt like his father’s. To Hank, the Garden had been a place to hang his hat until time for him to leave. He hadn’t cared whether he came home at night or camped out with the cattle—until the past five days.

  Muttering a curse under his breath, Hank turned away from her expectant face. Giving a damn was the last thing he needed. Giving a damn meant he was getting soft. He had plans, and he didn’t want anything to get in his way—not even a pair of angel eyes attached to a body made for sin. He didn’t need to be reminded of how much the house meant to his mother. Not now. It was too late. The wheels to sell the ranch were already in motion. He wasn’t about to put on the brakes. He didn’t even want to.

  Realizing he was taking a long time to make a decision, Hank threw a hard glance at his men. Hell, a clean house might help sell the ranch, so what harm would it do to give in?

  He took off his hat and placed it on a shelf. When he sat on the bench and put his right heel in the boot jack, the hands grumbled, but took off their hats and waited their turn at the jack.

  “That’s not fair!”

  Claire’s words screamed down the stairs as Alex wiped off the stove. Startled by the harsh sound, she took half a step toward the open door between the kitchen and dining room. Hank’s reply stopped her. His voice was lower, but held an edge of steel unmistakable to her, one floor below.

  “Life isn’t fair. Get used to it.”

  “Mallory’s parents are letting her go! Why can’t I? Give me one good reason.”

  “I don’t care what Mallory’s parents let her do. You’re not going there with just Mallory as chaperone. What’s wrong with Riverton? Or Lander?”

  “We’ve already looked in all the stores in those one-horse towns. I hate being stuck in the rear end of nowhere!”

  “Don’t use language like that.”

  Realizing she was eavesdropping, Alex shook herself and closed the swinging door. It didn’t help because their voices escalated.

  “You’re not my father! Why do you get to tell me what to do?”

  “I’m your guardian, that’s why. Until you turn eighteen on May eighth, I’m responsible for you.”

  “Mom and Dad must’ve been crazy to make you our guardian! You’re nothing but a mean old man who’s forgotten how to have fun.”

  There was a slight pause before Hank’s low, tight voice said, “You don’t know what mean is. If Dad were still alive, he’d—”

  “He’d what?”

  “Never mind.”

  “This is all your fault, anyway! I didn’t even want to go to the stupid prom. You forced me to accept the invitation from Ty Jordan. All I’m trying to do is find a stupid dress to wear to the stupid prom! And you won’t even let me do that!”

  Hank’s voice came down a notch, so Alex had to strain to hear.

  “If you don’t go to your senior prom, you’ll regret it. Surely there’s a dress here in Dubois that will fit you. If not here, then Riverton or Lander.”

  “Haven’t you heard a single word I’ve said? There aren’t any suitable dresses anyplace I’ve been. That’s why I want to go to Laramie with Mallory. The university is there, and they are bound to have decent dresses with all the parties that go on.”

  “I’m sorry, Claire.”

  “I can’t believe this! I’ll be living in Laramie next year when I start college.”

  “That’s next year. You’re not going to Laramie alone with Mallory. That’s final. Now get downstairs and help with the dishes. Alex does all your work around the house, so it’s the least you can do.”

  The slam of a door reverberated through the house, startling Alex back into action. She felt color rise to her cheeks as she realized she’d been eavesdropping like a common snoop.

  As she began loading glasses into the dishwasher, she heard Claire’s angry footsteps descending the stairs. A minute later the teenager shoved the swinging door so hard it rammed the counter.

  “I hate him!” she cried.

  “No, you don’t,” Alex said softly. “He’s your brother.”

  “You heard?”

  She shrugged. “You were so loud I couldn’t help it.”

  Claire threw her hands in the air as she paced from the stove to the door of the walk-in freezer. “Can you believe how mean he is? I’m almost eighteen! I’m old enough to go a few miles down the road by myself.”

  “Laramie is three hundred miles away. That qualifies for more than just a few. That’s a good day’s drive.”

  “It’s less than four hours,” Claire exclaimed.

  “Not if you’re going the speed limit.”

  “All right, five hours, then. What’s the big deal?”

  “That’s ten hours going and coming. When were you going to shop?”

  “If we left at five, we’d get there before noon. We could shop until six and still be home by midnight. We had it all planned, but Hank has to ruin it.”

  Alex shook her head. “I’m afraid I agree with Hank. You’re far too young to be—”

  “You’re only eight years older than I am,” Claire pointed out. “And you came all the way from Alabama by yourself.”

  Alex’s chin rose at the reminder of the differences between them. “That’s different. I didn’t have anyone at home worrying about me.”

  Claire’s face softened and she gave Alex a hug. “Well, you do now. I wish you didn’t have to leave. I know you’ve only been here a few days, but I feel like you’re my sister.”

  The words touched Alex deeply. “Thanks. But I didn’t mean to get sappy. I was just wondering...”

  “What?” Claire prompted when she didn’t continue.

  “My day off is Saturday, right?”

  “Well, I thought so. I mean, that’s when all the other housekeepers’ days off were, but you cooked last Saturday, so I—”

  “I’d only .been here two days then,” Alex explained. “It didn’t seem right to take a day off when I’d only worked one full day. But that doesn’t matter. Are you and Mallory planning to go to Laramie on Saturday?”

  “Yes, this Saturday.”

  “Do you think Hank might let you go if I went along to chaperone?”

  Claire’s face lit up as if someone plugged in a Christmas tree. “Would you?”

 
“Sure, I don’t mind. It might be fun.”

  Claire gave her an exuberant hug. “Thank you!”

  “This dress must mean a lot to you.”

  “Dress? Heck, no. Mallory’s the one who’s hot to go there for a dress. I want to see the campus of the university. I haven’t seen it in several years and since I’ll be going there this fall, I want to look around.”

  “Why didn’t you tell your brother that?”

  Claire wrinkled her nose in disgust. “He wouldn’t let me go just for that.”

  “Well, he still might not. Better go ask if that will suit him.”

  “Okay!” Claire gave her another hug, then turned to leave. She stopped in her tracks. “Oh, the kitchen. I’m supposed to—”

  “Go on,” Alex urged. “It’ll just take a minute to ask. There’ll still be plenty of dirty pots and pans left when you get back.”

  Claire threw her a look of such thankfulness and joy that Alex felt her heart twist into a knot. She watched blindly as the door settled back on its hinges in decreasing swings.

  Had she ever been that young and carefree?

  Several hours later, Alex wiped her hands on the frayed dish towel and scanned the kitchen one last time. Supper dishes and pans were clean and stored. Breakfast and the next day’s lunch were as far along as she could take them before sunrise.

  Content with the progress, she checked on Sugar. The cat ran free in the house during the day, but as the sun began to disappear, Alex put him in her room so he wouldn’t be stomped underfoot.

  Feeling restless, Alex left Sugar to his nightly cleaning ritual and wandered onto the back porch. The temperature had fallen with the sun, but instead of retreating back inside, she meandered over to the swing hanging at one end and lowered herself into it. The thermometer would dip close to freezing by morning.

  Recalling Claire’s warm words earlier warmed Alex even as it made her sad. Sister. How she’d longed for one when she was growing up. But she’d heard declarations like Claire’s from friends before, and when hard times came, those statements proved to be worth nothing more than the air they were carried on. Since she’d be moving on in three weeks, Claire’s would no doubt prove as worthless. Still, it felt good to hear the words.

  From her swinging perch, she surveyed the part of the sky she could see. So many stars. Which was her lucky one? If she knew, she would wish on it every night for...for what? She had what she wanted, didn’t she? The chance to study under a master chef.

  “Howdy, Alex. What’s up?”

  Derek’s deep voice startled her out of her thoughts. “Nothing’s changed since supper. You here to get more of that chocolate pie?”

  “Well, now, if you’re wanting to get rid of it, I’d be willing to force it down my throat, but...”

  “Yes?” Alex prompted, though she knew what was coming.

  “Is Miss Claire anywheres about?”

  Alex was glad it was dark so he couldn’t see the pity in her eyes. Derek came up to the house every night, asking after Claire. He’d fallen in love with the girl, that much was obvious. But his love was unrequited. The first night Alex went upstairs to tell Claire she had a gentleman caller, Claire made it very clear that she had no interest in Derek or any other cowboy. Claire considered cowboys filthy, unkempt fellows who wouldn’t know romance if it came up and grabbed their horse by the tail. She planned to get her degree and find a good job in a big city like Chicago, Dallas or Denver.

  “Claire’s studying, Derek. I think she’s got a calculus test tomorrow.”

  Derek nodded and pushed his hat back on his head. In the light coming through the screen door, he made a sad attempt at a grin. “Well, you can’t blame a fella for trying.”

  “I’ll get you that pie.”

  A few minutes later they were back on the porch. Alex set the swing moving again while Derek sat on the top step and fed on the chocolate dessert. A few minutes later Jed and Buck wandered up, and Alex got up to cut them each a piece of pie.

  As they ate, Alex asked them questions about the ranch and their jobs. They talked freely, and eventually the conversation turned to Alex and why she didn’t ride.

  “You mean you ain’t never sat on a horse?” Jed exclaimed. “There’s gotta be a law!”

  “I’ve never had the opportunity. There weren’t any horses at...where I grew up.” She hadn’t told anyone about her days at the orphanage and didn’t intend to.

  “Hell, we’ll teach ya,” Buck said. “’Tween the three of us, we could learn anybody how to ride.”

  “That’s my job.”

  They all turned to see Hank’s silhouette in the doorway.

  The screen door squeaked as he pushed it open. “I told her I’d teach her, I just haven’t had time.”

  “Sure, boss,” Derek said.

  The hands shared a smiling look as Hank walked over to Alex. “May I join you?”

  She stopped the swing and scooted to the far left. His descending weight made the chains rattle, then one boot set the swing back in motion.

  Alex swallowed hard as his nearness sent her senses reeling. He smelled clean, like the soap in the upstairs bathroom. But underneath he emanated an odor that was heavier, muskier. It made her want to lean toward him and take a deep breath. His heat also acted like a magnet. She had to hang on to the arm of the swing to keep from moving toward him. With her right side heating up and her left side in the cold, she couldn’t control the shiver that skimmed along her spine.

  Hank interrupted his discussion with the hands about which horse would make her a good mount. “You cold?”

  Alex ran her hand up her left arm. “A little. I’m okay.”

  Without another word, he rose and stepped inside. A few seconds later he returned carrying the lined denim jacket she’d seen on him nearly every day.

  “Lean forward,” he commanded.

  She leaned, and he swung the jacket around her shoulders, then settled back on the swing. The conversation took up where he’d left it, but Alex barely noticed. That musky male odor she’d noticed earlier rose to her nostrils in powerful waves, mingled with the scents of horses, hay and fresh air.

  Such a small kindness, so casually extended. It probably meant nothing to him. But it meant the world to someone who’d never belonged anywhere. Sure, most people were nice to her, but they never went out of their way to make her comfortable. They didn’t care enough one way or another.

  Until now.

  “That all right with you? Hey, you awake?”

  Alex’s eyes flew open when Hank’s hand touched her knee. Warm and heavy, it settled there, sending sparks shooting up her leg. “What?”

  “We’re going to put you on Maisy. She’s gentle enough for a beginner. I’ll try to make it in early tomorrow afternoon to give you your first lesson. Okay?”

  “Sure.” Alex cleared the frog suddenly caught in her throat. “Whatever you say. Don’t go to any trouble just for—”

  Hank squeezed her knee. “Hell, woman, it’s not for you. We’ve got to get you riding if we’re gonna have any grub at all on the drive.”

  Alex glanced down at the broad hand resting easily on her leg. How could simple pressure cause such havoc all over her body? Her blood felt like stampeding horses, racing through her veins with pounding hooves.

  She shivered from more than the cold. There was no mistaking this as a friendly gesture. This was a man-woman gesture—a possessive man-woman gesture. Even so, her first instinct was to cover his hand with her own. The warm weight on her leg felt familiar, felt right. It made her feel things she had no business feeling—like maybe this man cared for her, like she belonged.

  “Alex? You’ll be here for the drive, won’t you?”

  Derek’s question snapped her mind back to reality. She crossed her legs, and Hank removed his hand. “When is it?”

  “In two weeks,” Hank said.

  “Then I’ll still be here.” Her heart still racing, she turned to Hank, only able to look at him becau
se it was dark. “I’ll be glad to learn to ride whenever someone has time to teach me.”

  “I’ll be teaching you, and we’ll shoot for tomorrow, if that’s okay. For now, I think it’s time some cowpokes turned in. Sunrise comes mighty early.”

  Alex rose as the hands grumbled good-naturedly and wandered toward the bunk house. She removed Hank’s jacket, and he opened the door for her.

  “Thanks for the loan.” She handed Hank his coat without meeting his eyes.

  “No problem.” He took the coat and draped it over the hook beneath his hat. He turned but made no move to leave. The air between them felt electric.

  Uncomfortable with his eyes on her, Alex cast around in her mind for a safe subject. Relief flooded through her as she remembered one. “Would you like a piece of pie?”

  “Is there any left?”

  Sure of herself now that she could feed somebody, she moved into the kitchen straight to the refrigerator.

  Hank walked in behind her.

  “I saved it for you. I’ve heard you moving around in here late at night—” She froze with her grip on the door handle as she realized what she’d said. To cover what might be considered an innuendo—it sure felt like one to her—she opened the refrigerator, pulled out a plate and set it on the table. “Anyway, I found things missing the next morning, so I know you’ve been getting hungry. The hands have been eating up all the dessert. Tonight I thought I’d cut you a piece first, before they got to it. I mean, you’re the boss and all. You should have first crack at it.”

  Every muscle in Hank’s body grew hard as he stared down at the extralarge piece of chocolate pie while she went to get a fork. Every time he thought he’d gotten past this stupid attraction that neither of them wanted, she went and did something like this.

  It wasn’t much, just a piece of pie. But it meant she thought about him, just like he thought about her. If only she knew what drove him downstairs in the middle of the night, she’d probably run screaming to her little yellow car and take off like a mare chased by a grizzly. It was hunger, all right, but not the kind she meant, though he ended up trying to appease it with mere food. Knowing that she’d heard him, that she lay awake while he stared at her closed door, sent heat shattering through him.