As Melissa opened her mouth to respond, her aunt Anna stepped into the room. “Camille wants to see Melissa and Griff now.”
They both paled, and Griff looked at his daughter. “We shouldn’t have been yelling.”
“I know that. But—but you provoked me!”
“Camille is waiting.” Anna held the door open.
Like children called to the principal’s office, they walked slowly down the hall.
Aunt Janie was with the patient, but she excused herself as they came in.
Camille was sitting up in bed, looking very alert. “You both are certainly in good voice this afternoon,” she said softly.
Griff went to her bedside. “Honey, I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”
Melissa hung her head. “Me, too.”
“You two are so much alike,” Camille said with a sigh.
“No, we’re not!” Griff exclaimed.
Melissa kept her head down. “I know.”
He whirled around to stare at her. “No, we’re not!”
Camille shook her head. “Dear, it’s true. At least Melissa realizes it.”
“Oh, sure, and next you’ll tell me she’s right.”
“About what?” Camille asked, looking directly at her husband.
“She was— Well, it was— Nothing. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Then why were you yelling in the waiting room?”
“Not just the waiting room, Mom,” Melissa told her. “All the way down the street from the Sheriff’s Office to the hospital.”
Camille covered her eyes with her hand.
“Honey, probably no one noticed!” Griff told her.
She dropped her hand and stared at him. “Are you out of your mind? You yelled out on the main street of Rawhide and you think no one noticed? What were you yelling about?”
“She was going upstairs to Harry’s apartment, just the two of them!”
“And?”
“I couldn’t let her do that, so I went up with them. And when I said we had to get to the hospital, she asked for a moment alone with Harry. I went downstairs and waited almost five minutes. Then I yelled up for her to come down. When she got there, she told me I made her feel like a schoolgirl!”
“Amazing,” Camille said. “It’s a good thing I’m getting out of the hospital today, before the two of you decide to have a discussion about the birds and the bees in the middle of the street, too. They could sell tickets to that one.”
“You get to go home today?” Melissa asked in surprise. “Now? You can go home now?”
“Yes, if anyone will volunteer to take me there.”
Griff finally recognized a cue he knew. “I’ll volunteer,” he said at once.
“We both will, Mom,” Melissa assured her. “I’ll pack your bag.”
MELISSA QUICKLY CHANGED the sheets on her parents’ bed and piled up the pillows for her mother. Griff wanted to carry her in, but Camille insisted on walking.
“The nurse said I should keep on my feet. It’s the best thing for me.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not sure I should lie down yet. It’s early in the afternoon.”
“The nurse also said you should take a nap when you got home, remember?” Melissa pointed out.
“Okay, but don’t fuss over dinner, dear.”
“I won’t, Mom. I’ll take care of everything,” Melissa promised. She wished she could invite Harry for dinner, but he worked late hours.
“Do you want me to stay with you, honey?” Griff asked.
“No, you’d better go tend the cows while I’m napping.”
“And, Dad?” Melissa called before he could leave the room. Her father stopped and looked at her. “I think you need to tell John what a good job he’s doing. He’s very worried about pleasing you.”
Griff stared at her. “You’re kidding.”
“No, when Harry was here after we moved the herd, he told me John was afraid he’d mess something up now that you’ve turned the ranching over to him. I just thought—”
“Yeah. I’ll tell him,” Griff said gruffly, and hurried out the door.
“John never mentioned that he felt inadequate about taking over,” her mother said.
“No one wants to confess their weaknesses to you, Mom. You’re so sweet to everyone.”
“You’d think they might trust me to help.”
“You can’t do everything, Mom. Now, tell me what you want for dinner.”
By the time they’d discussed the options, Camille was ready for her nap. Melissa left the room with a sigh. It was good to have her mother back home again.
When she got to the kitchen, she picked up the phone and called the Sheriff’s Office. Dale answered.
“Is Harry there?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, he’s out on a call. Can someone else help you?”
“It’s Melissa. Will you tell him I’m back at the ranch and to please call me here when he gets in?”
“Sure will, Melissa.”
She got started on dinner, hoping Harry would phone. The longer she went without hearing from him, the more her imagination had him in desperate struggles, maybe even gun battles.
Finally, around five o’clock, she called the Sheriff’s Office again. Harry answered the phone.
“Why didn’t you phone me? I’ve been imagining all kinds of terrible things,” she told him at once.
“Melissa? Aren’t you at the hospital?”
“No. I guess Dale didn’t tell you I called,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“Just a minute,” Harry said. He must have covered the receiver with his hand, but she could still hear him talking to Dale.
“Oh, yeah,” the new deputy replied. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”
“Write messages down next time, okay? There’s a notepad on your desk.”
Then Harry came back to her. “Sorry, honey. Dale forgot to tell me.”
“When I phoned, he said you were out on a call. Was it dangerous?”
“No. It was a ten-year-old shoplifting at the general store.”
“Oh. I was afraid you’d been in another gun battle.”
“Honey, they don’t happen that often around here. I go months without even drawing my weapon, much less firing it.”
“I know, but— Well, I called to let you know that we brought Mom home today. So I won’t be hanging out at the hospital anymore.”
“Too bad. I was hoping to see you at dinner when I went to the café to get our orders.”
“I wish I could be there. But I’m fixing dinner here. Oh, Harry, can you join us on Sunday? Mom won’t be well enough to go to dinner at the main ranch, so it would be nice to have a guest here.”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to volunteer.”
“You don’t have to work on Sunday, do you?”
“No, I’m off all day.”
“Good. Come at noon, or after church, whichever works for you. Mom and I will be here, even if Dad and John go to church.”
“All right, I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“And—and you could phone me if you want to. Sometime when you’re not busy.”
“Okay, Melissa. I’ll do that.”
“Stay safe,” she whispered, and then said goodbye. She didn’t want to hang up the phone, but she had chores to complete.
She’d tell her parents tonight that she’d invited Harry to Sunday dinner. Hopefully, neither of them would object.
AS DALE AND HARRY ATE dinner—just the two of them, since Steve was still out on sick leave—Dale said, “Hey, did I tell you I found out who lives in the other apartment?”
Harry didn’t much care as long as it wasn’t Melissa, but he asked, “Who?”
“Two nurses. They’re both really cute, but there’s one named Betsy. I really liked her.”
“Oh, yeah, she was at the hospital yesterday when the rustlers came in. She seemed like a good nurse.”
“Man, I don’t care about that. She has a great body and the prettiest fac
e.”
“Remember, you represent the Sheriff’s Office, either on duty or off, so don’t do anything that would reflect badly on us.”
“You take things a bit too seriously, don’t you, Harry?” Dale asked with a big grin.
“I don’t think so,” he muttered, and took another bite of his hamburger. He would prefer not to have this conversation with Dale right now.
“Say, where do you and Melissa go to have fun around here?”
“Melissa and I aren’t dating, Dale. And the only place I know of is the steak house with the bar in it. It’s busy on the weekend.”
“What do you mean, you and Melissa aren’t dating?” Dale asked in surprise.
“It’s a long story, but it doesn’t matter, because she’s going back to France.”
Just saying those words evoked a vision of Melissa—her short hair, dark brown like most of the Randalls, those amazing blue eyes, and most of all, those incredible lips.
Harry stood up suddenly. “I’m going to walk the town.”
Before he could move, however, the door opened and a stranger entered. “Excusez-moi. I am looking for a Randall.”
It didn’t take a genius to realize the stranger was French. Or to immediately associate him with Melissa. After all, Rawhide didn’t have many foreign visitors.
With his heart sinking, Harry stepped forward. “Which Randall are you looking for?” As if there was any doubt!
“That is not your business!” the man exclaimed, his nose in the air. “Just tell me where.”
“I only asked because we have a lot of Randalls. There’s Jake, Pete, Brett, Chad, Josh, Rich, Russ, Toby, John, Jim…” Harry intentionally named only the men in the large family.
“Melissa Randall,” the stranger snapped, glaring at him.
“Melissa? Are you sure?”
“Oui, I am sure. She is my fiancée.”
In spite of the man’s accent, Harry understood his words, and his heart sank like a stone.
Had Melissa been playing a game with him? Not only was she going back to France, but she was also going to marry a Frenchman! She’d had no right…. Of course, he hadn’t asked her if she was involved with anyone before he’d kissed her.
Harry didn’t like that thought. He wanted to be angry with Melissa. Something he was doing a good job of without attaching any blame to himself.
Abruptly, he said, “I’ll take you. Come on.”
“I have my own car. I will follow you.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Harry muttered. “Dale, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He strode out of the office to the SUV parked in front. The stranger followed him. It occurred to Harry that he hadn’t asked the man his name. But what did it matter? “Melissa’s fiancé” was sufficient.
All the way out to Griff’s place, he muttered under his breath, trying to think what to say to Melissa that would convey his disdain for her behavior. He wanted to sound cool and amused, but all the words he came up with were angry and hot.
“How dare you” wasn’t a good way to sound uninvolved. “What the hell were you doing, kissing me when you were already engaged?” definitely wouldn’t sound unfazed. Harry took a deep breath and unclenched his teeth as he pulled into the driveway of the Haney ranch. He checked for headlights in his rearview mirror, finally remembering the man following him.
He was still there.
Harry parked the SUV and was knocking at the door before the man had even parked his car.
Melissa swung open the door, first surprise and then pleasure appearing on her face.
He’d take care of that, Harry thought with almost grisly satisfaction.
“Harry, I didn’t expect you. I’m so glad you dropped by. Did you get off work early?”
“No. I’m here in an official capacity,” he practically growled. Her father reached the door by that time, but Harry ignored him. “I’ve brought you something you apparently lost.”
“What?”
“Your fiancé!” he roared, stepping aside.
“Ma chérie, I have missed you so!” the Frenchman said with enthusiasm, his arms extended to Melissa.
Even Harry, blinded by jealousy, noticed that she stepped backward, not forward.
“Your what?” Griff demanded.
“No! No, he’s not,” Melissa protested, still trying to back up, though her father was in her way.
“Mais oui, Melissa, you know it is true!”
“Go away, Pierre! I don’t want you here!”
“Are you telling the truth, Melissa?” Harry demanded at the same time.
Camille appeared behind Griff. “Why doesn’t everyone come in? It’s too cold to keep the door open. Oh, you must be Pierre. Were we expecting you?”
Harry almost snorted aloud. As if visitors from Paris dropped by every day!
“Non, it is a surprise for Melissa,” Pierre replied with a brilliant smile.
Judging by the stunned look in Melissa’s eyes, Harry thought, his arrival was more than a surprise. It was a shock.
MELISSA WANTED TO RUN AND hide. She certainly didn’t want to respond to Pierre’s outstretched arms Nor did she want to face the anger in Harry’s eyes. But she was no longer a child. She had to deal with the mess. Even if it wasn’t her fault.
They entered the family room and Melissa immediately chose a single chair, making it impossible for Pierre to get close to her.
The others took seats, too, at her mother’s invitation. Griff was the first to speak. “Melissa, is it true you’re engaged to this man?”
“No, it’s not, Dad,” she said hurriedly.
“But it is, Melissa. You know we made plans!” Pierre exclaimed.
“No! I mean, yes! But I canceled them!” She took a quick peek at Harry, but couldn’t bear his angry expression.
“You mean you were engaged to him?” her father demanded. “You never told us that!”
“I—I was going to tell you after I got here, but we broke off our engagement before I left Paris. And you know that, Pierre, so don’t play dumb!”
“What is this ‘play dumb’?” he asked.
“Acting like you don’t know what she’s talking about,” Harry explained helpfully.
“But, chérie, I do not want to end our agreement. I am here to win your heart.”
“No!” Melissa protested. She didn’t leave any room for hope in her response, but she knew Pierre was always sure he was right. About everything.
Pierre turned to her mother, “She is angry, but she does not mean what she says.”
John, who had been peacefully watching television before the room had been invaded, said, “Are we talking about the same Melissa?”
His sister glared at him, then thought better of her reaction. Maybe he could help her convince Pierre of her stubbornness. “You’d better listen to him, Pierre. I can be very difficult.”
“I do not even know this person. Why should I listen to him?”
“He’s my brother. He’s known me all my life.”
Camille stepped in. “Pierre, this is my son, John. John, this is your sister’s…friend from Paris.”
“Her fiancé,” Pierre corrected firmly. “Pierre de Leon.”
“Stop saying that! I’m not your fiancée,” Melissa said. She wasn’t sure how she would convince Pierre, but she was determined she would. She wanted him out of Rawhide.
“You must give me a chance to explain, ma chère. You asked too much of me. It is unreasonable of you to think I must remain faithful to you all my life. A man has needs.” He added that brilliant smile again, as if he thought it would convince her.
“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Pierre. American women don’t buy such trash!” Melissa responded.
Pierre looked at her father. “Tell her, monsieur. I am sure you understand what I have said.”
Griff, red-faced, immediately exclaimed, “Are you telling me that you cheated on my daughter?”
Pierre shrugged his shoulders. “Of co
urse. A man must have several lovers. That does not mean he does not love his wife or take care of her.” Again he gazed at each male in the room, as if for confirmation.
Griff stood. “I agree with my daughter. You need to leave our home. My daughter will not marry someone like you.”
Pierre stood to face him. “My family is descended from royalty. She would be a fool to reject me. It is enough that I have come all this way.”
“No, it’s not!” Melissa spoke for herself. “Just go!”
“Where do I go? My flight does not leave until Sunday afternoon. I thought I would spend time here and make a better acquaintance with your parents.”
“Go back to Buffalo and find a hotel.” Melissa, as well as the rest of the people in the room, knew there was no hotel in Rawhide.
“No. I must stay here to convince you, ma chère.” With that, he sat back down.
Camille broke the stunned silence. “I’m sorry, Pierre, but I think it’s best you don’t stay here.”
“I think I know where he can stay,” Harry interjected.
“Where?” Griff barked.
“Dale has a second bedroom in the apartment. I’m sure he’d take Pierre in for three nights.”
“Who is this Dale and where does he live?” Pierre demanded testily.
“He’s another deputy in the Sheriff’s Office. He was there when you came in, and his apartment is just across the street.”
Pierre gave an autocratic nod. “I accept.”
“I’ll have to call Dale and get his okay.” Harry looked at Camille for permission to use the phone.
She nodded and rose to escort him to the phone in the kitchen. She whispered, “Thank you, Harry.”
“No problem. I’m sure Dale will agree.”
A couple of minutes later he returned to a tense silence. “Dale says he’ll be glad to let you stay, Pierre. He owes the Randalls a lot and is happy to do anything for them.”
“Fine.” Melissa said, standing. “Now you have a place to stay. And be sure you don’t miss your plane on Sunday!”
“Where will I eat? I do not cook for myself!” Pierre said.
Harry had the answer. “The café is across the street from your apartment. You can take all your meals there.”
“Ah, bon. And you will join me for lunch tomorrow, Melissa?”
“No!” she said, amazed, once again, by his audacity, “I’m not accompanying you anywhere.”
A Randall Thanksgiving Page 12
