by AE Rought
Slade held out a pair of flannel pajama pants, gray with dark blue pinstripes. He turned his back when I bent over to pull them on. The waistband sagged. I tugged on the cords running through the casing at the waist and tied them tight. I wiggled my butt in them, settling the soft, warm cloud of flannel around my legs. “Okay.” Slade turned back to me. “I’ll take the coffee now.”
“Watch it, I brew it rather strong.”
“Watch it yourself. I’m Dutch, I like it strong.”
“Then you came to the right place.”
I smiled at him, a full happy expression. “So it would seem.” The Fourth Moon already felt a little like home.
His ice blue eyes were even brighter without his Stetson perched above them. And his hair begged to be touched. Later, I promised myself, maybe later. Right now, I want food.
“So, about breakfast…”
“Oh, yeah.” Slade held open the door for me. “We won’t be alone.”
Oh my.
Slade and Kally: Letting Go of the Reins, Book 1
Chapter Seven
The kitchen and dining room bustled with activity. Rosie was setting places for at least eight people, while a mid-height heavy-set man with blond hair followed her around the table with napkins. Two more women were in the kitchen, one a brunette, the other gray haired and both of them looking at me through their glasses. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare.
I feel like a zoo exhibit.
I tugged Slade close, my voice hardly above a whisper. “Shouldn’t you be charging admission for this?”
“Let ’em get a good look at ya.” He took on a bumpkin accent. “Y’know it’s not often us country folk get to see a purdy city girl come back from the dead.”
I gave him a “you’re lucky you’re cute” look, to which he seemed impervious. For the time of a breath, no one spoke, and the energy between me and Slade sizzled. I fell into the burning plains of his ice blue eyes, my heart beat harder and softer at the same time. He smiled placidly, a playful devil in cowboy cologne.
“Good morning, everyone.” Slade nudged me forward. “I would like to introduce you to the Fourth Moon’s newest resident, Miss Kally Jensen.”
A chorus of “welcome’s” and “happy Saturday’s” filled the air while they surged forward. The blond gentleman, I learned in the ensuing onslaught of handshaking, was Rosie’s husband George and the two women in the kitchen were Emma Edwards and Grace Porter. Rosie and George were retired educators in the Wyoming schools. Emma, a retired librarian from Iowa, was brunette and bereft of a husband who had left early in the morning to hunt. Gray-haired Grace said she was “never anything more than a housewife”, and was a “hunting widow” like Emma. All of them were long time guests of the Carlsons’ and terribly excited to see Slade sidle up to a “filly” like me.
Slade cleared his throat. My gaze fell to a piece of fuzz on the floor, which I poked at with my toe. His feet shuffled on the rug beneath us. “There’s currently no sidling, Emma.”
“Yet,” Grace bantered back. She flashed us a grin and then busied herself with dicing potatoes and onions.
My eyebrows arched, Slade shrugged his shoulders and then he guided me toward the kitchen. Emma returned to her post at the stove, stirring ground sausage in a massive skillet. She waved with her free hand toward a large container of eggs and brick of cheese which sat on the counter beside a mixing bowl. Sausage, eggs, potatoes, onions and cheese, and only one pan? “So, what’s on the menu today?”
“We call it breakfast mess.”
“It’s Pine’s favorite,” George chimed in.
“It’s basically an unconstructed omelet.” Slade picked up where he’d left off. “You brown the sausage, add in the potatoes and onions and cook them until they’re soft, and then scramble in the eggs. Most of us like it topped with shredded cheese.”
“Sounds delicious.” I couldn’t resist getting a barb in on him. The guests had him unsettled already. “And then you add Tabasco and fry your taste buds, anyway?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He leaned closer, his voice hardly above a whisper. “And if we weren’t going into town this afternoon, I’d have an extra helping.” He fanned a towel past his behind. “I don’t want to be cruel.”
“You are too kind.” I snorted and then pulled the plastic layer from the 18-egg package. “So, how many eggs should I crack?”
Grace shooed Slade off toward the toaster and a loaf of bread, then came over to answer my question. “Nine eggs today.”
Holy cow. “Nine?”
“The recipe is pretty loose, but we use ‘one egg per person, plus one’ for a guide. It helps to bind all the goodies in the pan together.”
“Gotcha. Thank you, Grace.” I busied myself cracking eggs into the mixing bowl while Grace murmured a welcome and stirred the sausage again. Emma and I crossed paths when she carried her bowl of diced vegetables toward the skillet. She smiled, and her brown eyes twinkled in their frame of wrinkles when we danced in a half-circle to avoid collision.
“In case you’re wondering, Kally, it’s always busy like this on the weekends. Saturday breakfasts together are a Fourth Moon tradition. It makes for a wonderful family atmosphere.”
“Uh-huh,” Grace agreed.
Rosie appeared by my side at the refrigerator. She snaked an arm around my waist and gave me a quick side-to-side hug before pulling a large pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge and heading back toward the dining room. I took a gallon of milk back with me, and poured a measuring cup worth into the eggs. George swooped through the kitchen, taking the milk jug and cap from me on his path to the table.
The chaos settled into a comfortable uproar when the breakfast mess skillet was carried to the table and the group settled into seats to eat. Neither Grace’s nor Emma’s husband arrived, but before Slade poured a cup of coffee two men walked through the back door. They were total Paul Bunyan look-alikes. Both of them tall, brawny, blue jeans and red-and-black plaid flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up. Slade pushed his chair back from the table and greeted the men at the dining room entrance. “Ah, the infamous Billings brothers.”
The three men shook hands, and then the newcomers took up seats across the table from Slade and me. Slade introduced me to Mike, the brother to the left, who at current moment wore a black shirt under his plaid flannel. Mike nodded. “Morning, Miss Jensen.”
Mark, the brother to the right, wore a red T-shirt under his flannel, and was even less vocal. “Morning.”
Rosie, a full foot or two shorter than the Billings twin, promptly smacked Mark on the shoulder. “Next thing we know, you’ll be grunting instead of speaking.”
“He already does.” His brother ducked a mocked swing at his head.
Slade shook his head at the antics, then tapped my hand where it rested by the mug of coffee. “Don’t let the gruff exterior fool you. These guys are big softies and would throw themselves in front of a bear to save someone else.” Mark snorted at Slade’s glowing praise. “If they don’t shoot the bear first.”
Mark and Mike, I was to find, were avid hunters but never missed a Saturday breakfast. They were also the only actual timeshare guests at the table. They owned the fall/winter hunting seasons, while a family from Florida came up for the summer season. Rosie and George had bought their ranch the first year. Emma and her husband Stewart spent two years in repeat visits before buying a ranch of their own. Grace and Alan had bought theirs the following June. Most of the remaining twelve houses were sold, and many of the Fourth Moon residents went home for the holidays.
The holidays. Thoughts of Thanksgiving without my sister and the boys made my heart flip uncomfortably. I might have wallowed in the melancholy moment, but brooding wasn’t possible at the Fourth Moon. Rosie could sense my mood, and she spun the conversation onto suggestions of which outfits to buy to complete my cowgirl attire, and where to shop for the best riding boots.
“Oh, I don’t ride, Rosie. I don’t know the first thing a
bout horseback riding.”
It was the first quiet moment at the table. Not a fork moved. Not a mouth chewed. Everyone turned to me, and then to Slade, their eyes wide. Slade coughed in the middle of a swig of coffee and nearly choked himself. “You mean you’ve never ridden a horse?”
“I didn’t realize lack of saddle time was a bad thing… I told you I was a small town girl. The only thing I rode was a bus.”
One of the women muttered, “Oh, dear.”
“Well, then we’ll fix your horse riding inefficiencies. You’ll be barrel racing before we’re through.”
“I still have my doubts.”
He looked me straight in the eyes. “And, there’s your problem, Miss Jensen.”
Cuts right to the heart of things doesn’t he? I poked at an elusive piece of sausage on my plate. “Maybe it is.”
Slade seemed to pick up the fact I no longer wished to talk about my lack of riding time. He dropped the subject completely, and instead rose, stacked our dirty dishes in one hand, and grabbed the coffee mugs with the other. “Why don’t you ladies have a chat by the fire while I’ll refill your coffee for you? Leave the dishes for the fellows to take care of.”
The ladies and I retreated to the great room, where last night’s fire had been reborn into a crackling blaze. I tucked my left foot underneath my butt and sank into the armchair closest to the fireplace. Rosie occupied the nearest corner of the sofa, and Emma took the other. Grace sat in the armchair across from me. Though we’d left the table and dropped the subject, Slade’s ability to read me, to see self-doubt reining me in like any harness, was unsettling. I wanted to curl into myself and disappear into the furniture, or fling my insecurities at his feet and run to Ilene’s.
I was determined to stand my ground.
“Kally, is everything okay?”
Rosie’s face was shadowed with a frown, but I didn’t get the chance to reply. Slade returned with fresh coffee, a small plate with a glass of milk, and my medicine bottles. “She’s just quiet when you throw her into new situations, Rosie. Miss Jensen said so herself last night.” He handed Rosie her cup, and then brought my mug and the plate to me. “Dessert, Miss Jensen?”
“Oh goodie.” I rolled my eyes in feigned despair. “More medicine.”
The plate remained stoic in front of me. Slade’s voice dropped a timbre. “It’s better than hearing a lady cry.”
I could have cried again, knowing the emotionally intimate moment we’d shared when he washed my hair and took away my tears. I blinked away the wetness in the corner of my eye, took the medicines and chased the bitter pills with milk. My “thank you” was met with a wink, and then he handed me the mug of coffee. “Enjoy your coffee, ladies.”
Grace was the first to speak and reminded me most of my grandmother. “So, Kally. What did you do back in Michigan?”
“Well…” I stalled. How could I tell them, anyone here, an abusive relationship had me on the run? “I used to manage the ladies’ clothing section of a department store in Saint Joseph. I did the ordering, the scheduling and designed displays. Anything they threw at me.”
Emma was the one to drive the knife of family into my heart. “Did you leave any family, or anyone special behind?”
“Just my sister and her family. My parents and grandparents all passed years ago. It’s been pretty much Susan and me for years.”
“Then leaving must have been a hard decision.”
“More than you know.” I still feared Matt finding me, or my wallet showing up in his mailbox with a Wyoming, or North Dakota return address and then he’d know where I’d gone. Matt didn’t know Ilene but he knew Susan. I wouldn’t put it past him to press her, to hurt her for information.
Rosie watched my face through the entire conversation. I knew, in the pit of my gut, she knew I withheld information. When she caught my eye, her bright gaze cut through my façade and into the part of me I kept walled away. I felt her peeking into the memories of Matt beating me, felt her reaching in and cradling the scared girl who cowered in the corner of my mind. Rosie pulled me out of myself and reassured me life would be better now, without saying a word. She nodded when she saw the cloud lift from my face.
The chitchat after those questions was light and short lived. One by one, the women pardoned themselves and returned to their homes, leaving me to Rosie’s company. Rosie walked to the chair where I sat, and I rose into her embrace. She hugged me, rocking side to side like a mother soothing a child. Tears welled up and fell silent into her dark hair. Then she held my face in her hands. “You are loved. You are safe here.”
Blinking tears away, I nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
With a final smile, Rosie left, exiting through the back door. I dashed off into the east wing bathroom. After washing my hands, I patted my cheeks dry and smoothed my hair. Slade sat on the hearth when I returned to the fireside easy chair. He had a pocketknife out, trimming his fingernails with the blade. Once I was settled, he closed the knife with a flick of his wrist and then pocketed it. “Are you ready to talk about working, Miss Jensen?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I slid my butt into the far corner of the chair and then turned it to prop my feet on the hearth. My stomach, full of breakfast, insisted on dancing like I was a teenager at my first job interview. I crossed my arms over my chest. Why did I feel so skittish and giggly around him?
“You know my parents are on a business trip. They have meetings scheduled with possible investors and will be spending Christmas with one of the families who are also close friends of ours. If they land the financing, we will be buying another four thousand acres and adding on a lot to the Fourth Moon. Plans are drawn up for true resort-like expansions, everything from a golf course to an old time western town.”
“Wow. You’ll never have to leave the ranch.”
He suddenly sobered. His pocketknife came back out, and he opened and closed the blade. His voice was softer when he spoke. “I’m not all that happy with being trapped here. There’s a big world out there and I only got a piece of it when I worked on the force.”
He had been a police officer? Why is this coming out now, when he’s trying to convince me to stay? “Force?”
Visible pain passed like a shadow over his eyes. “I was an officer with Hulett’s police department for a few years. I was looking to transfer to Sundance and then maybe out of here altogether. But my parents needed me, so I left the force and came home.”
How could he leave so perfect a place? I was learning much more about this cowboy than I ever expected, and a lot about myself. I liked it here. “Well, Slade, I’m glad you came back to the ranch. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have found me.”
“Maybe it was fate’s ultimate plan…the real reason I came back.”
Only the fire spoke. I saw before me a man conflicted, harboring a pain I wanted to heal. He forced a smile and patted my leg where it rested next to his. “Now, back to my parents, the ranch expansion and your job.”
He was skirting the issue of his discontent, and I wasn’t about to push him on the subject when he didn’t know the truth on me leaving Saint Joe. If I wasn’t willing to talk about Matt, I couldn’t ask him about surrendering his dreams to come home. I nodded, encouraging him to go on.
“Until my parents return, Mother has the monthly bills set up on an auto-payment system. I am taking over the rest of the ranch’s business, moving the cattle and such. What I’d like you to do is take care of incoming mail, separate it into the appropriate files. Answer the phones if I’m not around, and help out where you can.”
“So, basically, you want an assistant?”
“I prefer to call it ‘Jane of all trades’ or my ‘go-to-girl’. Besides, it’s a lot better than admitting I want to keep you around because you purdy up the place. Such a statement could be construed as sexist.”
“Ya think?” It was a sarcastic comment, but Slade seemed amused rather than offended. “I wouldn’t
feel right taking payment for it anyway.”
“So we’re settled then?”
I nodded. “You’ve got yourself an assistant, cowboy. I’ll run up and get dressed and then, if you want, we can head into town.”
“I’ll get the truck warmed up.” He lifted his Stetson from its perch on an antler rack attached to the fireplace. “And what’s up with calling me ‘cowboy’ all the time?”
“Well, you call me Miss and I’ll call you cowboy.”
He smiled, and he tipped his Stetson to hide his eyes. “I like you, Miss Jensen. You’ve got spunk.”
“I like you too, cowboy.”
Maybe too much.
Slade liked her for more than her spunk, but he wasn’t about to let his desires cloud the issues. She was sweet, sexy, funny and sad, and damned captivating. He wanted to know what made her tick, what her lips tasted like, what the hell she was running from back in Michigan.
His key ring weighed his pocket down when he pulled his jacket tight against the cold, and a stiff breeze threatened to steal his black hat when he opened the door. A beautiful Wyoming morning greeted him on the wrap around porch. Blue sky stretched above and sunlight danced in burning diamonds on the snow. It was a good day for a drive. Slade’s boots skidded on the icy drive. He regained his balance without pinwheeling his arms and looking like a fool. The door stuck and he slammed it with his shoulder. Snow fell from the roof and down his back.
Dancing boot to boot he shook the snow from his shirt and jacket. “Damn it!”
The orange tabby hissed and jumped from beneath the truck near the engine. The cat scrambled for solid footing on the hard packed snow, thumping into Slade’s boots before skittering away from him and into the barn.
“Well, excuse me.” Slade kicked snow in the cat’s direction. The cat had stalked the main farm and ranch house ever since Kally showed up. Hell, she had every one on the ranch stirred up, from him to his mother to his godmother.
