“A man? You think I need a man?” She prided herself on self-control, but she couldn’t help raising her voice. “I’ve been married twice, Hank. Once to the best man in the world, and once to the worst. What is it you think I ought to do now? Go into town and see if I can find myself another crook like Ollie? Or should I look on the Internet?”
She heaved to her feet and walked over to the sink. She’d already polished the kitchen till it gleamed, but she grabbed a bottle of spray cleaner anyway, along with a dishcloth. She squirted the counter beside the sink and started scrubbing as if her life depended on it.
She heard Hank push his chair back, but she refused to turn around. He’d go now, like he always did. Amazing how a man who never opened his mouth could end up saying something so tactless.
She should find herself a man. That was crazy.
But he didn’t leave. He stepped up behind her. Took the spray bottle. Took the dishrag.
Next thing she knew he was taking her. And kissing her like a crazy man.
He might not talk much, but he could sure express himself.
Finally he pulled away, leaving her breathless. Her hair had come down from the tidy bun she always pinned to the back of her head, and her lips felt hot and bruised. She backed into the counter and stared at Hank, at this man she knew so well and didn’t know at all.
“Why didn’t you do that last night?”
“You were upset,” he said. “I didn’t want to take advantage.”
“Well, you should have.”
“You wouldn’t have known I was serious. You would have thought you’d started it.”
“I was trying to start something.”
“I want you to know it’s me starting it.”
She stared out the kitchen window. “I hope Cat’s giving that little girl what-for,” she said. “If Mack had taken a truck at that age, I’d have tanned his hide.”
“Quit trying to change the subject,” Hank said. “Don’t put me off.”
She shook her head. “You’re a fine one to talk about putting people off.”
“Last night would have been wrong and you know it,” he said. “I was just savin’ you from yourself. You didn’t know what the hell you were doing.”
She squeezed the rim of the sink so hard she thought the porcelain might crack in her grip, but she didn’t turn around. Rock solid ranch wives didn’t cry in front of the ranch hands.
But Hank was more than a ranch hand. He was part of the ranch, as much a part as the barn and the pasture. Maybe that was why she’d wanted him last night. She was trying to hold onto the place, but everything was slipping through her grasp. Hank seemed like the only thing in her world that would never change.
“I know Ollie hurt you, Maddie. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
“He broke every promise that mattered.”
“I know he did.”
“But you’ve never broken a promise in your life, have you?”
He looked away. “Only one.”
She shot him a questioning glance.
“When John died, he made me promise to take care of you. And I didn’t do a very good job of it.”
“I wouldn’t let you.”
He stepped up to her and took both her hands in his. “I’m not a ladies’ man,” he said. “I don’t know how to sweet-talk anybody. Why, if we… you know… I’m not sure I’d know how. But you could give me a chance.”
Madeleine laughed, her heavy heart buoying up with the sweet ridiculousness of Hank’s courting methods. “I suspect you’ll figure it out. And I’ve had enough of sweet-talking.”
“Then give me a chance.”
She looked long and hard at those pale honest eyes in his work-worn face, the lines fanning out from the corners from all the sunny days he’d collected working at the Boyd ranch. She’d known him most of her life, but she was starting to see she’d never really known him at all.
But she trusted him.
“I thought you believed a woman should have backbone,” she said.
“I do.” He kept his eyes steady on hers. “And I don’t know any woman’s got more spine than you.”
“I was a fool.” Those pale eyes saw too much. “I listened to Ollie’s sweet-talking and I believed every word he said. John never was much for words, and I guess I was hungry to hear them. Vanity, that’s what it was. I was no smarter than a teenaged girl.”
“He was a con man. He knew what he was doing.”
“John would have seen right through his foolishness. He would have been ashamed to see me fall for it. I always wonder if he’s watching, wondering where the hell my good sense went.”
“If he’s watching, he’s proud of you.”
“Proud of me? I almost lost the ranch, Hank. He’s rolling in his grave.”
“But you didn’t lose it. Ollie wanted you to. He set his sights on it, and he knew your every weakness, and mine too. He thought he had it, but you stood up to him. You threw him out.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “That took backbone.”
“I suppose.” She wiped her hands on the soft cotton of her apron. Hank was fooling with his hat, and she wondered which would wear out first, the hat or the apron.
“I thought we were goners.” He set the hat on the table, crown down, and stood. “If Ollie’d had his way the place would be sold by now, cut up into lots. I’d be out looking for work, and I don’t know where you’d be. Mack would be on the road again, with no place to call home. But you stood up to him, and you won.”
She nodded, staring out the window as he stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“I knew John better than anybody but you. And I know he’d be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”
He turned her gently, forcing her to face him. He slid his hands down her arms and folded her hands in his. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
She might have backbone, but Hank Slay had eloquence. She never would have guessed such a quiet man had so much inside of him.
“All right, Hank,” she said. “I’ll give you a chance.”
He smiled, those eyes crinkling up at the corners, and she wondered if she’d ever seen him smile before. Maybe, when a favorite mare had foaled or a day of branding had gone particularly well. But never like this. Never anything like this. The man just lit up, and she felt an answering light in herself, deep down where she kept her secrets hidden, under the bluster and the busyness.
She smiled back.
“You’re an extraordinary woman, Maddie Boyd. I’d do just about anything for you.”
She wasn’t sure if Hank Slay was the ranch’s elder sage or its holy fool. But she did know one thing for sure, and it surprised the hell out of her.
The man had actually said a five-syllable word.
Chapter 41
Mack watched Dora tie ribbons on the braided mane of the pudgy little roan. She’d come from her chat with Cat about Facebook etiquette with her sullen facade pulled back into place, and had been silent all day long.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“I already talked to Aunt Cat,” she said. “She made me shut down my Facebook account.”
“Well, now you have to talk to me.”
“What, are you my dad now?” She curled her lip. “I already have one, you know. And I didn’t realize your relationship had progressed that far.”
“It hasn’t.” Mack slouched against the barn wall and folded his arms over his chest. “She has no idea I’m talking to you.”
“Then I don’t have to listen.”
“I thought you didn’t let her tell you what to do.”
She tossed her golden hair, a gesture that might have been impressive if it hadn’t just set the frizzy halo to bobbing. “I don’t.”
“Well, you should.” He shifted his shoul
ders, rubbing his back against the rough wood. “And you should treat her better, too.”
“Why? She’s not my mother.”
He straightened and pinned her with a hard stare. He wasn’t about to argue with her; this was non-negotiable, so he made it short and sweet. “Your aunt is one of the few people in the world who really cares about you. And you treat her like shit. She deserves better.”
Dora looked outraged. “What, are you in love with her or something?”
“Yes.” The conviction in his voice surprised him as much as it did her. “She’s the best person I know.”
Dora’s fingers clutched at the horse’s mane so hard that the normally sleepy Spanky stamped his foot and took a step sideways. “But she’s always telling me what to do. And she doesn’t understand me. Not one bit.”
“You think my mother understands a damn thing about me? Think again,” he said. “And she bosses me like a prison guard. But I know she’d do anything for me. Just like Cat would for you.”
He started walking away. He’d had his say, but he couldn’t resist tossing a final sally over his shoulder. “If I were her, I’d give up on you.”
Dora was still clinging to the horse’s neck, and he saw a look of panic cross her pretty face. He’d thrown his loop, and it had landed dead center. He just needed to tighten the rope.
“Since she’s not out here now, trying to talk to you, I’m thinking maybe she already did.”
***
Cat was packing up a few last-minute supplies in the Heifer House’s front room when Dora found her. Though her back was turned, she knew that light step. It was more hesitant than usual. Cautious.
Either that, or this was some kind of ambush.
It didn’t matter. This morning’s events had worn her out as far as the Dora situation was concerned. She felt like she’d failed, but to her surprise she didn’t feel like making amends for it.
Because success wasn’t really possible. Dora would never get over what had happened. She’d always bear the imprint of her mother’s death—every time she visited a hospital. Every time she painted a picture—if she ever did that again.
Things didn’t go back to normal after such a cataclysmic event. They changed. Hopefully one day doing the things that reminded Dora of her mother would feel sweet to her. Right now, the wound was too raw.
Cat was starting to feel like she was making it worse. They were both dealing with the situation as best they could, but for both of them, that meant not very well. Maybe someone could make this easier for Dora, but that someone wasn’t Cat.
She slid brushes into the pockets of a canvas carry-all one after another, arranging them by size and type. Damn, she was tired. She just wanted to go curl up on her lumpy mattress and zone out for a while, but she’d dodged too many of her responsibilities already. If her students hadn’t been so sympathetic, they probably would have called the company and complained. They definitely weren’t getting their money’s worth.
She tested the spring of a sable brush with her thumb, thinking about Chicago. She’d be going back there soon, back to her old job, back to a life that didn’t include cowboys or horses or making love under the stars. A life where you could barely see the sky, where you never set foot on grass that wasn’t manicured and mown.
Even with all the disasters, she’d fallen for the Boyd Dude Ranch. Fallen for the wide-open landscape, the light, the sunsets, the moody skies. Fallen for Mack.
“I came to say I’m sorry,” Dora said from behind her.
“Sorry?” Cat blinked at her niece, struggling to step out of the swamp of depression she’d wandered into.
“I wanted to ask about my mom.”
Cat sighed. “You know she loved you, don’t you? Your mom loved you more than anything.”
Dora swallowed and nodded, looking down at her hands.
“She didn’t want to leave you,” Cat said.
“I know.” Dora sat down on the doorsill and gazed sadly out at the plains rolling off into the distance. “I wouldn’t have wanted her to suffer. It’s just…”
Cat swung the bag over her shoulder and leaned against the door frame. “Is that what you think? That she didn’t want to suffer?”
Dora shrugged. “Well, yeah.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “Who’d want to suffer?”
“It wasn’t about her,” Cat said. “It was never about her, not once she had you.” She looked down at her niece and saw a sheen of tears in her gray eyes. “She didn’t want you to suffer.”
Dora rested her chin on her knees. “You think?”
“I know,” Cat said. “She wanted things to be pretty and perfect for you, honey. Not for herself.”
Dora seemed lost in thought for a while. Finally, she straightened her legs out and looked up at Cat.
“How come my mom stopped painting and stuff?”
Cat thought a moment. She’d always figured Edie was simply too busy having fun to take the time to paint. But there was more to it than that. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost the urge to create. She hadn’t had the drive to find her own starry night after she married and had Dora.
“Do you think it was because of me?”
Cat floundered for an answer. She didn’t want Dora blaming herself for anything. She herself had always blamed Ross and all the distractions he’d put in her path. But Edie had painted a little bit, up until she had her baby girl.
Suddenly, Cat knew the answer. The right answer, which thankfully was the answer Dora needed to hear. She dropped down to sit beside the girl.
“Yes, hon. It was because of you.”
Dora bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Edie and I were both driven to be creative. We were just the same. Looking for that one thing, the creation that would define us, make us whole.”
“Your starry night.”
“Exactly.” So Dora had been listening.
“Well, Edie found hers.” She was talking as much to herself as she was to Dora. “And once you find it, maybe you don’t have to work so hard anymore. Maybe you’ve given the world something so special, you don’t have to try anymore.”
Dora looked mystified. “What was it? I never saw it. Was it really good?”
“It was great.” Cat smiled. “It was you, honey. You’re the best thing Edie ever did. You were everything she ever wanted.” She reached over and patted Dora’s leg, looking away to hide the tears standing in her eyes. “You were her masterpiece.”
The two of them sat in silence for a while, watching a meadowlark flit up from a fence post with a sharp cry. Cat thought of Ted, of what he’d said when she left.
Once I married Joyce, had the kids, it turned out this was enough.
He was talking about family. About finding something with real meaning, creating something that really mattered.
Maybe all along she’d been searching for the wrong thing.
She blinked back her tears and looked back at her niece. Dora’s gray eyes scanned her face, as if searching out her feelings.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Cat smiled. “I’m fine.”
“No, what? I want to know,” the girl said. “You’re always worried about what’s bothering me. I want to know what’s wrong with you.”
Cat huffed out a short laugh. “You already know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know how to live, remember?”
“That’s not true.” Dora fidgeted, but she kept her eyes on Cat. “Mom was wrong.”
Cat shook her head. “No, honey. Your mom…”
“Yes. You’re a better person than Mom was. You do the right thing, every time. You take care of everybody else, and you do it so well nobody notices. I didn’t notice.” Her hands twisted in her lap as she talked. For the first time since the funeral, she looke
d more sad than angry. “I’m really sorry I took off. And I’m sorry about what I said. It’s not your fault Mom died, and I’m—I’m glad you’re here.”
Dora swiped the back of one hand over her eyes, and Cat realized she was crying. “I just really miss her. She was my mom, and it’s so not fair.” She ducked her head and clutched a handful of hair in each hand, staring down at the ground. “So not fair.”
Cat patted her shoulder, lost for words. Dora’s thin back was heaving with sobs.
“I’m sorry I ran away,” she said in a tiny, broken voice. “And I’m so, so sorry I was mean to you. And I’m sorry you can’t stay here, forever and ever, because I know you want to.”
“I don’t want that,” Cat said, patting her back. “I’m fine in Chicago.”
“No, you’re not,” Dora said. “You hate doing that stupid job, in that stupid city. You’re just too nice to say so.” She sat up, sniffling. “You should stay here and paint every day, and marry Mack.” Tugging herself away from Cat, she sat up, blinking as if she’d just awakened from sleep. “That’s what you should do. You could marry him, and then you could stay on the ranch and paint. It would be perfect.”
Cat laughed, wiping her own eyes. They’d only leaked a little, but Dora’s ridiculous solution to her life dilemmas had chased the tears away in a heartbeat. “I can’t marry Mack,” she said. “I barely know him.”
“Yes, you do. And he loves you,” Dora said. “He told me, and I barely even asked. He’d marry you, I know he would. And then you could stay here forever. He’d take care of you.”
“It’s not that simple, honey.”
“It is simple,” Dora said. “The ranch will always be here.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
Cat remembered the conversation she’d overheard between Mack and his stepfather. If the bank took the ranch, Mack would be set adrift. The land would be chopped up and houses built on the little flat parcels of land that would mean nothing without the grander whole. Eventually the mountains would fade into the background, the golden glow on the grass would fade, and life here would end up like life everywhere else—hectic, workaday, and mind-numbingly ordinary.
Cowboy Tough Page 26
