The Countess and the Cowboy

by Linda Wisdom

  "You were stupid to remain in here," she mumbled to herself, studying a receipt for a used Studebaker. It was dropped on the throwaway pile after she exclaimed over the price a car had once cost.

  "Land sakes, girl, it's a lovely night. You shouldn't be in here. You should be outside."

  Myrna stood in the doorway holding a plate. The enticing aroma tempted Letitia's stomach to growl loud and strong.

  "I knew you were just being stubborn." The older woman pulled a small table next to the bed and set the plate on it. She picked up Le Chat and deposited him on the floor before settling in the rocking chair. The cat immediately jumped back into the chair and curled up on her lap. "Damn cat," she groused.

  Letitia grinned. "He doesn't do that just for anyone. Usually he sharpens his claws on people's legs."

  "He wasn't in for dinner, either."

  She concentrated on her food. She wasn't' going to pretend to misunderstand who Myrna was talking about. "Oh? Was he pouting?"

  "If you mean acting like you, maybe. He also had a date."

  She continued eating as if the news didn't surprise her, even though it was very unwelcome to her ears. "Even ranch foremen are entitled to evenings off."

  Myrna hid her smile. Letitia wasn't as unconcerned as she pretended to be. "Tell me something and tell me straight. What exactly do you want here? What do you hope will happen?"

  Letitia forked up a tender green bean and chewed it reflectively. "I want to learn to be my own person. To not have to depend on anyone but myself. To prove I can do something other than plan parties and play tennis, which I hate by the way."

  Myrna was surprised by her candid reply. "Are you always this honest with your feelings?"

  She nodded. "I decided a long time ago I wasn't going to hold back my views just in case someone didn't like what I was going to say. Oh, I don't mean saying hurtful things, but I don't see anything wrong in speaking out."

  Myrna nodded. "Is it because of your ex-husband that you don't want to depend on anyone?"

  She shrugged. "Partly. You see, my mother took wonderful care of my brother and me between her marriages. You would think she was one of the most self-sufficient people around, even if her sense of direction was the worst and we never spent a holiday where we planned to. But once she got married, she was one of the most dependent persons you could ever meet. She expected her husband to take care of everything for her. I didn't mean to, but when I married Stephano I acted like that because he expected his wife to be that way and because I felt I was supposed to. Well, I grew up and he didn't." She grimaced. "He thought life revolved around polo and other women. I felt there should be more to it, so I left him and ran to my brother. Except all I did was become dependent on him. Oh, I made talk about traveling and all, but that's all it was-talk. Then Jack got married and I knew it was time to let him go on with his life and for me to find mine," she murmured.

  "And you found it with Giancarlo?" Skepticism colored the cook's voice.

  Letitia wrinkled her nose. "Yes, well, we all make mistakes and he was a major one for me. And, as far as I'm concerned, my last one. I don't know why, but Italian men fascinated me since the first time Mother took us to Italy. I was fourteen and this mature seventeen-year-old boy gave me my first kiss. After that, I was a sucker for big brown eyes."

  "And now?"

  "And now, I can't even stand Italian food." Myrna chuckled.

  Letitia scooted back until she rested against the pillows. "Why are you out here?"

  "I've been cooking for Running Springs since my husband brought me here as a bride more than thirty years ago," she explained, adding matter-of-factly, "He was killed eight years ago when he was trampled by a bronc. Neither of us had any family other than each other, so I just stayed on."

  Letitia watched Myrna's hands caress Le Chat's back in long slow strokes. The older woman's hands showed her age from all her hard work over the years, but Le Chat didn't seem to care as he purred contentedly under her attention. "I didn't think you were fond of cats."

  "This one is different. He's got quite a personality."

  "Some would say too much," she said dryly.

  "He's sure got that dog of Tyler's snowed."

  Letitia joined in. "I could see that, but I don't think it makes Tyler very happy."

  "He's a man who feels cats should be afraid of dogs. Your cat took that theory and tossed it out the window."

  Letitia looked down at her crossed ankles. She wiggled her toes, idly noticing it was time for a pedicure. "If the ranch is doing so badly, how are the groceries paid for and other staples needed around here? Or does Tyler make sure there's enough for that?"

  She looked at her sharply. "Tyler does the best he can with what he has. The ranch does have some income, just not as much as it needs to make a real go of itself. To help out, some of us have even taken pay cuts. But if you want to know how it works, you'll have to talk to Tyler."

  Letitia wasn't looking forward to that.

  "Myrna, do you think I can make a go of it?"

  "Of showing the hands you've got staying power or doing something positive with the ranch?"

  "Both."

  The older woman thought for a moment. "Depends on how much grit you've got. I already have an idea you're pretty stubborn. You'll need that and more to deal with the bank about the quarterly loan payment that's late."

  "Oh, banks!" Letitia waved her hand around in an airy dismissal. "Bankers love me," she confided. "They're like old softies around me. They treat me like their long lost granddaughter and give me anything I need, if not more. I read the paperwork on the loan and I can handle it." She didn't bother saying that the quarterly payments were much more than she expected. And for the moment, she wasn't sure how she was going to come up with the money.

  "You'll change your opinion after you meet ours," Myrna said dryly.

  "He can't be that bad," she argued, albeit feebly.

  "Bad? You're going to find out soon enough when you see him about the loan you're now probably liable for. Honey, our banker makes Scrooge look like a spendthrift."

  Letitia didn't even think to swear in Italian this time.

  Chapter Seven

  He wondered if she was naked. He hated himself for even thinking it.

  Tyler stood at one of the bunkhouse windows looking out. He stood there smoking a cigarette and wishing he wasn't doing either because they were both addictions he didn't need. Late one night when he couldn't sleep he'd wandered from his set of rooms and ended up downstairs. During his nocturnal search for sanity, he glanced out a window and discovered another way for Letitia to unknowingly destroy his peace of mind. All he had to do was stand at that particular window and he had a clear view of the master bedroom in the main house. Actually, it was the master-bedroom window he had a clear view of. A shade and lace curtains kept him from seeing the room's occupant. He tried to tell himself that for his mental health he was better off not seeing anything. So why was he standing up here looking over there? Again.

  I'I thought you quit those."

  "I thought I did too." Tyler didn't turn around.

  "What are you doing up?"

  J. T. ambled over beside him. "The older you get the less sleep you need. 'Sides, Ray is snorin' up a storm. How the others can sleep with all that noise, I don't know. He sounds like one of those damn steam engines. The night he starts whistling I'm gonna shoot him." He followed the direction of Tyler's gaze. "Son, you've got it bad. Why don't you just crawl to her window and let out a good howl? Maybe she'll take pity on you and let you come inside."

  The mental picture had great possibilities. Tyler's chuckle was that of a man in pain. "J.T., you're a sick old man."

  "More like a smart one. The boys are thinkin' they may as well forget drawing up a new pool. She's been here for a little over a week and hasn't said one word about leaving. She's even workin' on gettin' the house clean. I heard she's talkin' about paintin' it too. You don't do that unless you intend to stay."<
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  Tyler Sighed as he took another drag on his cigarette. The acrid smoke burned his lungs and left a horrible taste in his mouth, hut he didn't care. He welcomed the discomfort because it kept his mind off the discomfort in his jeans. He wished he could blame her for all of it.

  "You'd think she would have finally realized she doesn't belong here," he mumbled.

  "And she wants to put in a flower garden."

  Tyler was determined to remain silent on that point. It didn't last long. "Crazy woman thinking she can do all that on next to nothing," he muttered.

  J.T. watched him closely. "She figures it won't be all that difficult."

  "She sometimes acts like she doesn't have a brain in her head," he gritted walking across the room to the pool table. He stubbed out his cigarette with a vicious twist in the ashtray on the edge of the pool table. "She prances around here with that sassy tail of hers twitching in the air thinkin' we're all going to do her bidding like a bunch of damn cattle. And you know what, we do! This should have been mine, not hers! What she knows about ranching wouldn't even fill up a thimble."

  "Now, Tyler, you know very well she isn't that way," the older man gently chided. "She's never tried to push her ideas on you. And she's left you to do your job."

  "Thank God," he growled. "Still, it shouldn't be my job. It should be my future." He could feel the acid burning in his gut.

  "For some reason it wasn't meant to be, Tyler," J.T. said gently. "You have to let it go."

  His jaw tightened. "No, I don't. All she has to do is realize she doesn't belong here and be willing to sell me the ranch at a fair price. She's broke, you'd think she'd want the money for the life she's used to."

  J. T. hid his grin. He wondered if Tyler realized how frustrated he was. While Tyler's indignation was natural, there was more to it than just anger over losing his shot at the ranch. J. T would bet he was also angry because the usurper was not only a woman, but a beautiful one who was tying Tyler up in knots. He wondered what would happen if he stirred up a little turmoil. "There's some who get hitched to get a piece of land.

  Tyler's gaze sliced through him like a hot knife. "I suggest you lose that idea right away," he said with deadly calm.

  "Yeah, well, it isn't somethin' you should ignore. Look on the bright side. She's a beauty. Sure wouldn't be all that difficult to climb into bed with her, would it?" J. T. smothered a fake yawn. "Guess I'll get back to bed before it's time to get up. Too bad you gave up your house."

  As foreman, Tyler had the use of a small house but had given it up when one of the hands recently got married. He'd moved back into the bunkhouse until they had enough free time to build a new house.

  Tyler eyed him suspiciously. Why was the man putting all these ideas in his head? "Why is it too bad?"

  J.T.'s grin was pure lechery. "It would have been easier to sneak out of, that's why. Here, you've got too many guys to sneak past. 'Course, you could consider it a challenge if you sneak out and back in without anyone catching you."

  His jaw tightened. "I have no reason to sneak past anyone."

  The older man ignored his warning tone. "Still, you never know when you might have a reason, what with the way a man's blood can heat up and all. Well, good night." He slowly made his way up the stairs. He decided he'd left Tyler more than enough to chew on.

  Tyler spun on his heel until he faced the infamous window again. He swore under his breath and then followed J. T. back upstairs. But there was no sleep for him for the rest of the night. As far as he was concerned, that was all right. Not sleeping meant he didn't dream about her. And the dreams he wove in his mind were becoming just as dangerous to his well-being as every sight of her in the strong light of day.

  JUST AS TYLER WAS ABOUT to mount his horse, a dark blue truck pulled to a stop in front of the barn.

  "Hey, Tyler, got some packages for your boss." A stocky silver-haired man called out as he stepped out of the truck cab.

  Tyler walked over and glanced in the back of the truck where large boxes filled the truck's bed. "Which box is hers?"

  He chuckled. "All of them. Farley asked if I'd bring them out."

  Tyler called over several of the men and in no time, the truck was emptied.

  "When you get mail, countess, you get mail," Tyler said wryly when Letitia walked outside to see what the commotion was. "Letitia DeMarco, Wyatt Bums. He owns the next ranch over."

  Letitia smiled and offered her hand. Wyatt gulped and rapidly wiped his hand on his jeans before accepting hers.

  "Pleased, ma'am," he muttered.

  "Thank you for being so kind to drop the boxes off," she said. "My brother said he was sending out a few things. I had no idea he'd go this far." She inspected the boxes with the eagerness of a little girl. "Can we take them inside?"

  "You're the boss."

  Letitia turned to Wyatt. "Would you like to come in for some coffee, Mr. Burns? It's the least I can do as a thank-you for your dropping these off."

  "No, thank you." He bobbed his head in a shy manner. "Got a lot of work to do. It's a pleasure to meet you." He almost tripped getting back into his truck.

  Letitia turned her attention to the many boxes.

  "I guess you'll want the ones marked TIV and VCR to go into the living room," Tyler commented, after directing the men. He turned around to pick up one box and grunted with effort. "Jeez, what the hell's in here?"

  She glanced at the side. "It's marked books."

  "It must be this year's encyclopedia," he muttered, calling one of the men over to help him.

  She shrugged. "I have no idea what the others are.

  When I talked to Jack a few days ago, he only said he'd sent out some things I requested along with some surprises, but I couldn't imagine it would be all this," she murmured, following him inside. She deliberately hung back a few paces so she could admire the shifting muscles in Tyler's back as he helped carry in the box holding a television set. There was something about the way that man walked that stirred things up inside her!

  In the end, they piled all the boxes in the living room where Letitia could easily sort everything out. While she unpacked boxes and marveled over the contents, Tyler and one of the other men set up the television set and hooked up the video tape recorder with a minimum of fuss and cussing. Letitia laughed softly as she listened to the two men amiably argue how it should be done. When she found an envelope with her name scrawled across the front, she couldn't resist opening it right away.

  "Pretty fancy equipment," he commented, playing with the TV remote control. “Thing is, TV reception is pretty lousy out here. You'll be lucky if you get anything more than a lot of static."

  Letitia was engrossed in reading an enclosed letter from her brother. "He says a satellite dish will be delivered in another week or so," she said in dismay. "I didn't ask for all this."

  "Then you have a pretty generous brother." Tyler set down the remote control. "Anything more you need lifted?"

  She shook her head. "No, everything else is very light, but thank you."

  He looked at her, wondering how she could always appear so fresh. And how a woman wearing navy walking shorts and a fuschia top that heightened her light tan could look so sexy. Along with another damn pair of those little ballet slippers! He glared at the cat who strolled by wearing a collar in the same fuschia color.

  "Letitia," he said huskily without even being aware he'd said her name.

  She looked up, silently questioning him. He could only study her eyes, her flushed cheeks and mouth bare of lipstick. She wore little makeup and didn't seem to mind that people saw her without her mascara and lipstick on. But then, he considered her beautiful even without all the paint.

  He shook his head. "Nothing." He grabbed his hat off one of the pegs by the door and walked outside.

  Letitia hurried to the window where she could watch him walk back to the barn. "What was he going to say?" she mused. "And if he said something I wanted to hear, what would I have said back?"


  She returned to her task of emptying the boxes, but some of the joy in unwrapping them had faded. She opened a note from her sister-in-law.

  I can only assume you don't have enough casual clothing so I thought I'd include a few things I'm sure you can use.

  Love,

  Holly

  Letitia held up pairs of jeans, cotton shirts with matching bandanas, several pair of running shoes and even several western-styled full skirts and tops. "Holly, you are a dear," she murmured with soft laughter as she held up matching cat collars and a box filled with several bottles of sun block. "You do think of everything."

  "What do you intend to do with all that?" Myrna stood in the living-room doorway.

  "These are going to help me learn about the western way of life." Letitia pointed at the television set and then at a box filled with books and video tapes.

  Myrna gave in to her curiosity and rummaged through the books and tapes. "You think these will help?" Her voice was muffled as she studied the back cover of one video tape.

  "They'll at least give me an idea," Letitia explained.

  The older woman kept her features carefully masked. "I'll have to make sure to get a front seat to this turn of events," she muttered, walking out of the room. "Hell, maybe I'll even sell tickets:'

  "What's wrong?" Letitia called after her.

  "You still want to learn to cook?"

  Letitia's face lit up. She'd been begging Myrna for the past week to teach her culinary basics and the cook kept putting her off.

  She jumped to her feet. "Of course I do!"

  "Then be in the kitchen in a half hour dressed grubby. Cooking can get as dirty as working outside.”