“Thanks. I’ll get the contract.” He pulled open the passenger door of the ramshackle truck and took out a briefcase. “Just in case,” he said as he followed her along the wraparound verandah to the back of the house.
Her lips tightened into a grimace. She stifled an urge to place a well-aimed kick at his exceptional butt as he passed her and reached to hold the screen door open.
“Hey, this is great!” He followed her inside and looked around the cozy country kitchen with its gingham curtains and pine furniture.
“Take a seat.” Although his enthusiasm for her home played on her determination not to let him maneuver her, she forced herself to ignore it and indicated a chair at the table. “But don’t get comfortable.”
“Okay. Right to business.” With his free hand he pulled out a chair for her, that resolve-melting grin in place.
Holding the door open, offering her a seat. If he thinks this phony gentleman act is going to further his case, he’s away off base.
He took a seat across from her and opened the briefcase. “Annie said she offered you fifty thousand for six weeks of board and lessons.” He took out a sheaf of papers stapled together and slid them across the table to her. “In this contract, you’ll see she’s sweetened the deal to sixty. Personally…” He leaned back in the chair and looked over at her. “I think she’d go sixty-five, if you hold out.”
“She? Isn’t this your money?”
“Legally.” He shrugged. “I sign the checks, but Annie does the math.” He jerked his head in the direction of the coffeemaker on the counter. “Mind if I pour myself a cup while you do some speed reading?”
“It’s been there for a while.” She was reading as he stood.
“No problem. It can’t be any worse than a lot of the stuff I’ve been drinking the past three years.”
****
It was a good deal, Shelby had to admit as she finished reading and looked across the table at Jordan Brooks finishing his coffee. No troublesome minor stipulations or legalese to give her interpretation problems. Just sixty thousand dollars for six weeks’ work, provided she kept his identity a secret and succeeded in teaching him to ride so he’d look like an old cowhand.
“Well?” He placed his cup on the table and looked over at her.
“It appears to be a decent offer.”
“So?”
“So you’ve got a deal, Mr. Brooks.” She stood and held out her hand.
“Great.” He got up and took it in his. Something warm and electric charged up through her body from the point of contact. She jerked free.
“Need a pen?” He shuffled in the briefcase and came up with one.
“Thanks. I do, however, have one condition.” She wiggled the Bic between her fingers. “This is to be strictly a business arrangement. Absolutely no personal involvement, back stories, or anything of that ilk.”
“If that’s what you want, agreed.”
“Good.” She scrawled her name at the bottom of the contract, then swung it around and shoved it over to him. “Now you, Mr. Brooks.”
A grin pulled up one corner of his mouth. “Banks is the name, ma’am. Jake Banks, your new hired hand. Pen?”
****
“Shelby, what’s for sup—?” Travis Masters broke off in mid-sentence as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Travis, meet Jake Banks, our new hired hand.” Shelby tried to sound matter-of-fact as she indicated the man sitting at the table. Inside, she was still feeling wobbly. She’d just signed a contract promising to teach Jordan Brooks to ride in a six-week period, plus keep his identity an absolute secret. Was she crazy or what? “I know I said we couldn’t afford help, but Jake has offered us a deal we can’t afford to turn down.”
“What kind of a deal?” Travis took off his baseball cap and leaned against the cupboard, his arms crossed on his chest. A frown wrinkled his forehead.
“He’s going to pay us.”
“Come on, Shel. Don’t put me on.”
“It’s true.” Jordan Brooks grinned up at him. “I need on-the-job training.”
“Yeah? Why? Where’d you work last?”
“Show in Halifax.”
“Stables?”
“On stage.”
Travis’s eyes narrowed. He moved to the table to stare down at Jake Banks.
“There’s something familiar about you. Did I meet you at a horse show?”
“We’ve met twice. Once was behind the stables in Halifax. The second time involved a flat tire on the Cobequid Pass.”
“Travis, meet Jake Banks, a.k.a. Jordan Brooks.”
Shelby went to the vegetable bin by the door. As she began to select potatoes for their supper, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. Her brother had frozen in place, staring at the new arrival.
“I’ll be bunking here for the next month and a half while you and your sister teach me to ride like an old cowhand.” Jordan stood, grinning.
“Jordon Brooks! Here in our house! No shit, Shel?”
“Watch your language, young man. Yes, it’s a fact.” She struggled to contain the smile tugging at her lips. She gathered up potatoes and carrots and headed across the kitchen.
“Ah, man, this is great! Wait until I tell the guys.”
“That’s exactly what you can’t do.” Shelby dumped vegetables into the sink and turned to face her brother. “Mr. Brooks’ presence here must be kept an absolute secret. That’s a major term of this contract. From this moment on, he’s Jake Banks, a drifter we hired to help out for the summer. Understood?”
“Ah, Shel…!”
“Travis, there’s no room for argument. Mr. Brooks is paying us sixty thousand dollars not only to teach him to ride but to keep his identity and presence here a secret. It’s an important stipulation of the contract I just signed with him.”
“Sixty thousand…?”
“Provided we keep his presence here an absolute secret. Agreed?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Travis looked crestfallen. “Okay. But it would be great to introduce him to the guys in my band.”
“You have a band?” Jordan’s words held surprised interest.
“Sure do. A bunch of the guys and I play at dances around here. Nothing like you and your group, though.” The last sentence came out shy and embarrassed.
“Tell you what, Travis,” Jordan said, putting a companionable arm about the younger man’s shoulders. “If you and your sister manage to teach me to ride in secret, I’ll come back this fall as myself and let you introduce me around. It’s the least I can do for a fellow musician. How’s that?”
“Terrific! Thanks, Jordan…Jake.”
“There you go. Easy, isn’t it?”
“Travis, will you show Jake the cabin? He’ll be making his home there for the rest of the summer. I’ll go down after supper with clean sheets and the vacuum cleaner. It hasn’t been used in a while. Hope you don’t mind an occasional mouse?” She cast him a challenging glance.
“Hey, I may be what you call a counterfeit cowboy, but I’m no stranger to roughing it. And I’ve always had a good relationship with mice.” He headed for the door. “Come on, Travis. We’ll drive down in my truck. I have my stuff in the back.”
“Sure, Jake.” A delighted grin plastered across his face, Travis waved to Shelby as he followed the singer outside.
She watched them climb into the rattletrap vehicle and head down the lane behind the house. They stopped in front of the small cabin, midway between her home and the barn, where hired help, when they could afford it, stayed. Jordan hefted a duffle bag from the cargo space onto his back.
A smug little smile tipped Shelby’s lips as she watched the pair go inside. That old log cabin was a long way from the luxury suites Jordan Brooks was accustomed to. It would prove an excellent introduction to what the next six weeks would hold.
****
“Travis, will you go down to the bunkhouse and tell our new hand supper is ready?” Shelby paused in putting a large casserole, filled with
sliced pot roast surrounded with potatoes, carrots, and gravy, in the center of the kitchen table. “Tell him to hustle. I have students arriving at seven, and I’ll have to inform them this will be their last lesson until September.”
“Okay. Jake can take your place mucking out the stalls tonight.” He winked back over his shoulder as he headed for the door.
“We’d better give him a day or so to learn which end of a pitchfork is which before we start expecting any serious work from him.” Shelby stooped to remove an apple pie from the oven. “We’ll give him kitchen clean-up tonight for starters.”
“I think you’re underestimating Jake.” Travis paused at the door. “You’re letting your prejudice distort a lot of stuff where he’s concerned.”
“Go!” She placed the dessert on a cooling rack and waved an oven mitt at him.
“Sure, sure.” He went, calling back, “But if he turns out to be a great hand, I’ll expect you to admit you were wrong.”
****
“That was a terrific meal, Doctor.” Jordan Brooks replaced his napkin on the table and leaned back in his chair. “I haven’t had anything that good in months.”
“I find that hard to believe. You probably eat in five-star restaurants.” Sarcasm tinged her words.
“Hardly. The boys and I spend our time traveling, rehearsing, performing, or sleeping. Meals are generally fast food from take-outs. If we weren’t working so hard, I swear we’d look like basketballs.”
“Working? You mean jumping around on a stage for a couple of hours? Oh, come on.” Shelby arose and began to clear the dishes. “I’ve seen real cowboys at work when I apprenticed on an Alberta cattle ranch. What you do in no way resembles work, under their definition.”
“In your opinion.” He stood and began to stack dishes.
“Hey, come on, you two.” Grinning, Travis got to his feet. “No bickering in front of the kid, okay?”
“He’s right.” Jordan’s lips curled. “There is a child present.”
He’s away too good-looking. And more than a tad affable. Watch it, Shelby.
“Agreed.” She reached for her baseball cap hanging on a peg beside the door. “I’ll take the child and head on down to the barn while the hired help clears away.”
“No problem.” Jordan began to load the dishwasher. “But what do I say if anyone happens by and finds your new wrangler doing KP?”
“Send them down to the barn. I’ll handle the explanation.”
****
Shelby opened her bedroom window and gazed out at the slice of moon rising over the trees beyond the pasture. From the cabin came the mellow strains of her new hand strumming his guitar.
What is he playing? Sounds like classical. Yes, it definitely is. I recall Marci playing that tune. She drew a deep breath and remembered.
Was it really seven years since she’d shared a dorm room with the music major? Jordan Brooks had revived the memory with his unexpected mastery of the piece. Man of mystery or what?
She removed her robe, snapped off the bedside lamp, and slid between clean, cool sheets. Travis had gone to practice with the four buddies he called his band. She and heart throb Jordan Brooks were alone on the farm.
She wished she were immune to the man and his blatant sex appeal, but she was only human. Beyond the great body and handsome face, the man was possessed of one magnetic personality. As her Aunt Jane used to say, he was one of those men who could melt a woman’s heart quicker than a microwave could turn an ice cube to slush.
She burrowed down into her bed, the soft gentleness of his music drifting into the room to soothe her weariness and lull her to sleep.
Chapter Seven
In the cabin, by the light of the single lamp on the scarred pine table in front of him, Jordan Brooks relaxed in the old ladderback chair and strummed his guitar, a slight smile curling his lips. The screened door and windows let in the soothing familiarity of salt-seasoned air. When he paused in his playing he could hear frogs in the brook beyond the barn. From somewhere back in the trees an owl hooted. The ambience of the old log place, with its plank floor, two built-in bunks, worn pine table and chairs, airtight wood stove in one corner, a small black-and-white television in the other, was a far cry from the life he’d been leading, and he let it wash over him like a warm bath. Full of good food and playing the kind of music he’d had to abandon three years ago, he felt at peace with the world for the first time since all the country-music superstar thing had started. He returned to another classical selection.
Wouldn’t my fans be surprised if they could see me now. Probably start calling me a counterfeit cowboy, too.
The thought brought Doctor Shelby Masters back to his mind. She’d never been far out of it since he’d met her, but now she dashed to the forefront and he stopped playing again.
“You don’t know me but you don’t like me.” He found he was singing the old hit again. It surely summed up the good doctor’s attitude toward him.
He finished a couple of verses, then laid his guitar aside. Bed. I’ve got to go to bed. Big day tomorrow for this fake cowboy.
****
“Here’s the fork and wheelbarrow.” Shelby shoved the tools at him the next morning. “And there are the stalls to be mucked out. Since this is your first day, we’ve made it easy for you. Travis has turned the horses out. Tomorrow you’ll have to do that as well.”
“You mean go in there with them and…” He hadn’t expected to be put to the test first thing.
“Snap a lead on their halters and take them to the pasture out back.” A sardonic smile pulled at her lips. “They’re well trained. They won’t give you any trouble.”
“Right. Just like putting a thousand-pound puppy on a leash.” He grasped the handles of the wheelbarrow and headed toward the farthest empty stall. “Piece of cake.”
“I left pancakes in the oven,” she called after him. “Travis told me you only had a cup of black coffee while I was in the shower. That’s no way to start a day of hard physical labor.” She stopped him as he headed into Midnight Black’s stall. “You don’t have to do that one. It was cleaned last week. Unfortunately, it’s had no occupant since.”
“Just exactly who was that occupant?” he asked coming back out into the corridor. “Steel bars, big enough for an elephant…”
“Our stud, Midnight Black. Don’t worry. You won’t have to face him…at least not for a while. He was stolen while we were in Halifax.”
“Stolen? Who’d do something like that?”
“I have an idea, but so far the police haven’t been able to find any evidence to support my suspicions.”
“Major loss to your business?”
“Major.”
“Is that why you changed your mind about taking me on?” He straightened and looked at her with a penetrating gaze.
“Let’s say it played a part.”
“Humph.” He headed into the adjoining stall, then swung back. “Ever think of hiring a private detective to look for your horse?”
“No. Can you even imagine what those guys would charge? I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Just a thought.” Hefting his fork, he went into Fancy’s stall, whistling.
He heard a car gunning toward the barn.
“Damn! Not her!”
Shelby’s expletive made him pause in hefting a forkful of manure and look through the mesh-covered stall window. A gleaming red BMW skidded to a stop only a few feet from the barn door, just as Shelby emerged from it.
“Shelby Masters, you little witch!” A woman in skin-tight denim shorts and barely-there tank top leaped out of the driver’s seat, waist-length black hair swinging, and strode on stiletto sandals to confront Shelby, a newspaper clutched in one hand.
“Good morning, Michelle.”
Keeping her cool. One more thing to like about that lady. Wonder what Miss Sex-on-the-Hoof is so cheesed off about?
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me, you troublemaker!” The new arrival stopped
inches in front of Shelby, her perfectly made-up face contorted with rage, and waved the tabloid in front of the veterinarian. “It was bad enough that the RCMP questioned me about your stupid horse, but at least they did it discreetly. Now just look at this! ‘Soap star accused of horse rustling,’ ” she read aloud. “And there’s photos and a lovely story inside, supplied by that little toad of a stable hand Danny Morgan. You’ll recall he overheard our conversation in the stables in Halifax the day your horse supposedly disappeared and you accused me of the theft. You also must remember how he managed to snap a few lovely pictures. And you said he wasn’t bright enough to think of selling his dirt!” Her face livid, Michelle Latton looked ready to attack physically as well as verbally. “Do you know what this does to my career?” She shoved the paper into Shelby’s hands.
“Gives it a much-needed kick in the rear?” Shelby shoved the paper back at her. “Now you’ve joined the ranks of Butch Cassidy, Jesse James, and so on. A really notorious woman, not unlike the one I understand you play on the small screen. Even though you’ve been trying to light up the big screen for years.”
“Look, you little backwoods hog doctor…”
“Everything okay here, ladies?” Jordan decided it was time to intervene and emerged from the barn, pitchfork in hand, affable grin plastered across his face. “Anything I can to do help?”
Michelle paused and stared.
“Well, hello, there.” Her outraged expression somersaulted into a smile. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”
“Doctor Masters’ stable hand, Jake Banks.” He held out a grimy hand.
“Hello, Jake Banks.” Michelle looked down at it, hesitated, then took it in a quick clasp. “Michelle Latton.” She withdrew it just as swiftly.
Bet she’s fighting the urge to wipe it on the seat of those next-to-nothing shorts.
“Hey, aren’t you on TV? I mean, I don’t get much time to watch, but I’ve seen your face somewhere. Maybe on a magazine cover or something?”
Now who’s acting! Hope I’m coming across as a starry-eyed rube.
“You may have. I’m the star of The Wild and the Beautiful.”
Counterfeit Cowboy Page 5
