“A little, but having y’all to encourage me is a big help. I don’t know how I thought I could do it on my own. Dr. Cindy was right. The Callahans are a great support group.”
“We do our best.” If he asked her to marry him, would she do it? He knew she cared for him. He could see it whenever she looked at him. But how deep was her affection? Did she love him? Would she say “I do” and stay with him forever or only hang around for a while and want a divorce?
He’d thought he might marry without love if friendship and respect were part of the relationship. Now he realized he couldn’t. He wanted the whole enchilada or nothing at all. Even if nothing at all would break his heart.
They’d known each other for five weeks. It was enough time for him to fall in love with her. Was it long enough for her to fall in love with him? Or only to need the security he could provide? Right or wrong, he was selfish enough to want her to love him, not his money. He’d bide his time for a little while.
He’d also pray that her cousin and uncle had become law-abiding citizens. And ask the Lord to switch their route so they never came through Callahan Crossing again.
25
The following Tuesday morning, Megan took a pan of soft oatmeal-cranberry cookies from the oven and set it on top of the stove. Listening to the lost and found announcements on the local radio station, she wondered if the three missing chickens had wound up as supper for a coyote or a person.
She transferred the cookies to a wire rack and murmured, “There you go, boys, almost three dozen cookies should keep you happy.”
Earlier, Will and Nate had ridden down the road on horseback on their way to round up some cattle and move them into the pasture behind her house. With a wave of his hat, a big smile, and hollering, “See ya after a while,” the handsome rancher had barely slowed down as they passed her house.
Glancing around the kitchen, she decided she’d done enough work for the morning. Beside the cookies, a banana-split cheesecake sat on the counter to cool. Another was already chilling in the refrigerator, as were the toppings—crushed pineapple, sweetened pureed fresh strawberries, chocolate syrup, toasted chopped pecans, and maraschino cherries. Serving it at the Garden Club luncheon the next day would be easy, simply spoon small amounts of the toppings on each piece.
“Now, Sweet Baby, if the gals on the food committee will quit bickering over the chicken salad, everything will be fine.” She had spent almost two hours on the phone the day before listening to complaints and going back and forth trying to settle the dispute between the three women who were making the main salad.
Each one had a favorite recipe they thought should be used, and none of them would give in. Finally, she suggested that they each make whatever kind they wanted. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be a ruckus between the attendees over who wound up with what.
Thankfully, the women making the pasta salads and the fruit salads were much more cooperative and didn’t insist on using Mama’s recipe, Aunt Bertha’s, or Grandma Nelda’s.
This was the last social event scheduled at the museum for the next two months, until the Business and Professional Women resumed their monthly meetings in mid-September. By then, Sweet Baby would have made her grand entrance and be about a month old, so Megan didn’t know if she would be coordinating that one or not. She hoped she’d be able to resume her duties before the holiday season began.
If she was still there.
How long would the Callahans let her stay at the ranch and work for them? When would they decide she was taking advantage of their friendship and tell her it was time to go? She had no real reason to think they would fire her and send her packing. They’d said they wanted her to stay at least until after the baby was born and she was back on her feet. However, not even their generosity would last forever.
With the money Will had gotten her for the van, plus the six hundred dollars she’d cleared from Lindsey’s wedding, and what she’d been able to save out of her wages, she had a nice little cushion put away. If she continued being frugal, she could add another six or seven hundred before the baby was born.
“We’ll have to live on some of it after you arrive, Baby, even if I stay here.” She put the mixing bowl in the sink and filled it with soapy water to soak for a few minutes. “They won’t pay me when I’m not working.” Even if they wanted to, she wouldn’t feel right in taking it. “I’d like to have a couple of months off so I can spend all my time with you.”
Plus she needed so many things for the baby. She’d hit a few garage sales on Saturday and found some footed sleepers and a couple of cute tops and pants, but almost everything else had probably already been used by two or three kids. Nice secondhand things were fine, even ecologically friendly, she thought with a smile. But she didn’t want to put her child in anything ragged, faded, or stained.
Sweet Baby wouldn’t go to kindergarten and elementary school wearing the kind of clothes Megan had to.
“I’ll keep looking. We’ll track down some nice things, I’m sure. The right garage sales are treasure troves. Stick with me, kid, I’ll teach you how to find the good stuff.”
Megan filled a plastic pitcher with water and carried it out front to water her flowers. She’d found four planter boxes in the weathered, wooden barn behind the house. Will had hauled two of them around the front and put them on either side of the porch steps. He’d put the other two beside the back steps.
Since she’d never grown a flower in her life, she stuck with what the guy at the local nursery suggested. A mix of red, orange, and yellow snapdragons in the back, and red petunias with purple verbena in the front. She loved the vibrant colors of them all. They made her smile every time she looked at them.
The faint bawling of a calf drew her gaze down the road in the direction Will and Nate had gone. She couldn’t see the cattle yet because the ground sloped slightly, but the dust floating in the air told her they weren’t too far away.
“They’re coming, Sweet Baby. We’re gonna watch real live cowboys working cattle. Well, I’m going to see them. I guess you’ll have to settle for listening to them this time. You’re going to hear some new noises.” Megan went into the house, set the pitcher upside down in the dish drainer to dry, and came back to the living room to put on her tennis shoes.
She tugged them on, rested each foot in turn on the coffee table, and tied the laces. By the time she finished she was huffing and puffing. She’d mainly been wearing her slip-on sandals, but she didn’t want to go trooping out to the fence in open shoes. It was too sandy, and there were too many grass burrs.
Will had come by the evening before and opened the pasture gate. He’d also unlocked the windmill so it would turn and fill the big aluminum stock tank with water. She’d shut off the air conditioners and opened the windows when she went to bed, letting the rhythmic creak of the windmill and soft swoosh as it pumped water into the tank lull her to sleep. It was a peaceful, comfortable sound, one she didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing.
Going out onto the front porch, she spotted Will and Nate herding the cattle up the road. She counted twenty cows and twenty calves. They moved at a slow, steady pace, stirring up less dust than they had earlier, likely because the grass was thicker alongside the road here. Still, she was glad she’d closed her doors and windows as Will had advised.
One cow decided she wanted to go back to where she came from and turned around, trying to slip past Will. Seemingly without any command on his part, his reddish brown horse moved over and blocked the cow’s path. Will slapped his leg and yelled, “Yahhh!” The cow spun around and did as she was told.
As they neared the gate, Will nudged his horse to speed up, and they edged around the herd, getting out in front of them. Moving back and forth across the road between the fences on each side, he turned the cattle toward the opening. He and Nate guided them smoothly through the gate. Will kept them moving past the barn and corrals while Nate stopped and closed the gate.
Megan walked around the house, w
atching Will herd the cattle farther into the pasture. He looked as if he’d been born in the saddle, relaxed but alert, moving as one with the horse. Both he and the horse seemed to anticipate each cow’s every move. She glanced at Nate, who was back on his horse and riding to catch up with the herd. He was just as capable and comfortable in the saddle.
But Will was the one who drew her gaze again and again as she made her way over to the barbed wire fence. He was the living definition of tall, dark, and handsome. If he ever decided to make Western movies, he’d be a star. Put him on a horse and let him ride to the rescue, or have him strap a six-shooter on his hip and saunter down the street to run the bad guys out of town. It wouldn’t matter whether or not he could act. His legions of female fans would see only a larger-than-life hero.
Just as she did. Was that her fascination with him? Had she made him into the hero every girl daydreamed about? The knight in shining armor. The rich, handsome prince. The superhero who would fight every foe to protect her. The cowboy who lived by the code of honor and justice.
No, she hadn’t made him into a hero. He was one.
And she loved him with all her heart, a secret to be closely guarded. Eventually, the novelty of helping a poor, stranded mother-to-be would wear off, and he would turn his attention to someone who was his equal. A woman who was well educated and beautiful, who had impeccable family credentials and old money.
She cautioned herself to enjoy his friendship, nothing more. Then she thought of his wonderful kisses and the loving way he held her, and longing filled her soul once more.
He rode over to the water tank and dismounted, letting his thirsty horse take a long drink. Will tugged off his gloves and stuffed them in his back pocket. He walked over to the tank, took off his hat, and dunked his head beneath the water, washing away the dust. Straightening, he shook his head, sending a shower of water through the air, then swiped his hand over his face. Smoothing his hair back with his fingers, he stuck the hat back on his head, and remounted.
He turned the horse toward her and grinned, trotting over to meet her. “Honking horns delivered, ma’am.”
She laughed, adoring his mischievous smile. “If noise starts coming out of those horns, I’m running the other way.” His horse had a white streak down its face and one white back foot, a nice combination with the shiny reddish brown coat. “What a pretty horse.”
The animal nodded his head, as if thanking her.
“What do you call that color?”
“Chestnut or sorrel. This is Cecil.”
“Cecil? I thought horses were named Flicka and Blaze and Star.”
“For some reason that I’ve never figured out, we’re a mite more practical. Winston, Bob, Rusty, Clementine, Stubby, and Jack to name a few. We got a little more artistic with the horse Nate’s riding. That’s Ebony.”
Nate’s glistening black horse was still drinking at the water tank. “She’s beautiful too.”
“Most of them are from our own breeding program, but occasionally we’ll buy one to add fresh genes to the pool. Dad’s one of the best horse breeders in Texas.”
“I expect he’s trained you well.”
“That he has.”
She glanced farther behind him to the pasture. “Looks like the cows have figured out this was a good move. If they aren’t munching grass, they’re drinking that nice cool water.”
Will dismounted and looped the reins around a fence post. Thirty seconds later, the horse began grazing contentedly. “I kept tellin’ them the grass was better up here, but typical women, they griped all the way.”
“Careful, cowboy, or I won’t invite you in”—she glanced at his dirty clothes—“correction, to sit on the porch and have some oatmeal cookies and iced tea.”
Nate rode up. “Did I hear something about cookies?”
“Fresh batch, just waiting for hungry wranglers to gobble them up.”
“I’m there.” Nate swung his leg over the horse and stepped down, tying the animal a few posts away. He, too, had washed his face in the water tank, but she hadn’t noticed until now.
“Reckon we’re visitin’ with the lady for a while,” Will drawled, climbing between the wires on the fence. The leather chaps, called shotguns, encased his legs, but she held her breath until he’d cleared the barbs with his back. That lightweight cotton shirt didn’t offer much protection.
Nate followed him through the fence. “That was an established fact before we left the corral this morning.”
“Nope. I said I was going to stay and visit a while. Didn’t say nothin’ about you crashin’ the party.”
Nate’s grin didn’t hold one iota of remorse. “You didn’t say nothin’ about cookies, either.”
“Come on, Will.” Megan turned toward the house. “You too, Cookie Monster.”
“Cook-ieee,” growled Nate, sounding a lot like the Muppet.
Laughing, the three strolled to the house, the men’s jingling spurs playing a little tune. “Y’all are pretty impressive on horseback and handling the cattle.” Megan looked up at Will, enjoying simply being in his company. “When did you learn to ride?”
“Got my first pony when I was four.”
“Goodness. That’s earlier than I’d expected.”
“Dad started carrying me on the saddle in front of him when I was two. It was the same with all us kids. Nate was a late bloomer.”
“Chance and I decided we were best buddies in the first grade,” said Nate. “So I started spending a lot of Sunday afternoons here. Dub taught me to ride too.”
Megan knew he had grown up on a farm not too far from the ranch. “So you didn’t have any horses at your place?”
“Nope. Just chickens.”
“How’d you saddle ’em?” Will asked as he followed Megan up onto the porch.
“Very carefully. Those crazy things peck.” Nate leaned against a porch post. “They’re my mom’s pets. I stayed away from them. Still do.”
Laughing at their banter, she opened the screen door. “Y’all relax.”
“Sorry I’m too dirty to help.” Will peeked past her into the kitchen and frowned. “You’ve been working hard this morning. Is that the cheesecake you were telling me about?”
“Yes. I didn’t make any extra for the family this time, but there should be some left tomorrow. One wasn’t enough for the luncheon, but two will be too much. I wanted to finish baking before it gets too hot. I’m done working for the day.”
“Good.”
“I’ll be right back.” She went inside and filled a plate two layers high with cookies. Taking them to the door, she handed them to Will. When she stepped outside a few minutes later with a tray containing a plastic pitcher of iced tea, two empty glasses, and a glass of water for her, she was surprised to see all the cookies still there. “Is something wrong with them?”
“We were waiting for you.” A teasing smile lifted the corner of Will’s lips as he slowly rocked back and forth. She set the tray down on the small wrought iron table between the rocking chairs. “Though I had to caution Cookie Monster to mind his manners.”
Nate smiled but didn’t rise to the bait. Megan knew very well that he was just as polite as Will. He’d shifted his position to sitting on the porch with his back to the post instead of leaning against it. One foot rested on the porch step.
She filled their glasses and offered them some cookies. After they’d taken a couple each, she set the plate back down on the table and sat in the other rocker. “Help yourselves to as many as you want.”
Nate took a big bite, chewed, swallowed, and grinned. “Are those dried cranberries instead of raisins?”
“Yes. And some pecans for additional protein.”
Will finished off a cookie with a smile. Nate was almost done with his second one. Jenna had told her that her husband had always liked sweets, but after he returned from the Middle East, he relished every bite even more, especially something homemade.
“What makes them so soft?” asked Will.
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“I think it’s because they have milk in them.”
He nodded and reached for a third cookie. “Oatmeal, milk, cranberries, and pecans. A homemade power bar. Or breakfast bar.”
“I also substituted applesauce for the oil, so except for being a bit high in sugar, they are very healthy.”
“Which saves some calories and leaves room for the cheesecake.” Nate took a long drink of tea. When Will held the plate out to him, he took three more cookies.
“Actually, the cheesecake is a low-fat version too. I got it from the Cooking Light website.”
“Careful, woman, or folks will be clamoring for you to start a bakery.” Will studied her with a thoughtful expression.
“I’d love it. Though it would probably be more practical to stick with wedding cakes and other specialties and work from home. Then I wouldn’t have the expense of renting a building in town or finding someone to watch the baby.”
“Good point.” Will finished off his glass of tea. “What are you doing the rest of the day?”
“I don’t know. I’m so tempted to go to Abilene and shop for baby things.” She rocked absently, the thought zipping through her mind that she should move one of the chairs inside before the baby came. “But I really should wait a couple of weeks and see what I can find at garage sales.”
“I don’t have anything pressing this afternoon. I’ll take you shopping.” Will’s tone was casual, but she noticed Nate lift an eyebrow.
“You want to go shopping for baby stuff?” What was he up to? Men didn’t like to shop.
“It’ll be fun, as long as we stop by a toy department somewhere.”
“She’s having a little girl,” Nate said, pushing up to stand. “You can’t buy her a football.”
“Okay. I’ll get her a soccer ball. Zach still has a blast with his, and girls play soccer. But no dump trucks. Not even a pink one.”
Confused, Megan looked to Nate for an explanation.
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