Tammy and the Doctor

by Judy Duarte

  But now her curiosity was mounting with each beat of her heart.

  What had caused the rift? And why had it lasted so long?

  She waited for several minutes, but the voices stilled, as if the conversation had just vaporized.

  When it became clear that neither the housekeeper nor the cook would bring up the subject of the family feud again, Tammy stepped away from the wall she’d been leaning against and entered the bright and sunny kitchen with her empty glass in hand.

  “The lemonade was great,” she said, addressing the housekeeper while scanning the spacious room with its old-style gingham curtains and modern appliances. “Where should I put this?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Byrd.” Tina got up from her seat at a polished, dark oak table. “I should have picked up that glass for you.”

  “I don’t mind picking up after myself. And please call me Tammy.” She offered a smile, hoping that striking up a friendship of sorts with the household help would provide her with the details she wanted to know.

  “All right. Then Tammy it is.” Tina took the glass from her and turned to a short, heavyset woman who was peeling potatoes at the sink. “Barbara, this is William’s youngest.”

  The matronly cook, her hair tinted a coppery shade of red, her cheeks rosy and plump, reached for a paper towel. After drying her pudgy hands, she reached out to Tammy. “It’s nice to meet you, honey. Is your daddy coming?”

  “He sure is.” Tammy accepted the handshake, hoping she was telling the truth and that her father would follow through as planned. “In fact, he should be here before dark.”

  Both women glanced at each other, their gazes making a quick and intimate connection, before turning their focus back on Tammy and offering nods and smiles.

  “That’s good news,” Tina said. “I haven’t seen your daddy since he left for college.”

  What? No mention of the family argument? The angry words thrown at each other? The night it—whatever it was—had happened?

  Hadn’t the women said both boys had run off, leaving Tex alone for almost thirty-five years?

  If Tammy had known either of the women a little better, she would have quizzed them further. As it was, she’d let it go—at least, for now.

  But come hell or high water, she was going to get to the bottom of it. And she would start by cornering her father as soon as he arrived.

  * * *

  Sure enough, William Travis Byrd arrived at the Flying B just as the sun was setting.

  Tammy, who’d been gazing out the big bay window in the living room, was on her feet and out the door before he could turn off the ignition of the restored 1975 Pontiac Trans Am he’d owned for as long as any of his three kids could remember.

  The classic vehicle only had 27,000 miles on it and looked as though it had just rolled off the assembly line, with its original camel-tan cloth interior and spiffy gold paint, including the firebird on the hood. Needless to say, the V-8 sports car was William Byrd’s pride and joy, so Tammy was more than a little surprised to see that he’d driven it all this distance, when he usually kept it in a garage back at the family ranch in Grass Valley.

  Had he left the Flying B in that same car on that fateful day? If so, had he decided to return the same way—just as angry, just as stubborn, just as determined to hold a grudge?

  “Hey,” she said, as she stepped off the porch. “How was the drive?”

  Her dad shut the driver’s door. “Not bad. How was yours?”

  “It was good—easy and quiet.”

  Her dad nodded at the house. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Not much. I haven’t met Tex—or rather my grandfather—yet. Right before I got here, he took some pain medication, so they tell me he’s sleeping.”

  Her dad, his once blond hair faded to gray, tensed. Did it bother him to know that Tex was hurting...and badly? That he truly was dying?

  Tammy couldn’t imagine why it wouldn’t. Why else would he have come back to the Flying B?

  Once she crossed the yard and reached his side, she broached the question that had been burning inside her ever since she’d arrived. “I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “What’s that?”

  She folded her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to one leg. “What caused that falling-out you had with your dad and brother?”

  His lips tightened, and his brow furrowed. Yet he didn’t respond.

  About the time she figured he wouldn’t, he said, “My brother did something unforgivable. And my father was in cahoots.”

  “What did he do?”

  For a moment, her father’s stance eased and his expression softened. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, his eyes glistening. Then he stiffened again, rolling back the gentle side of himself that he rarely showed anyone. “That was a long time ago, Tam.”

  Yes, it was. But he’d held on to his anger—or someone else had—for thirty-five years. So pretending to brush it all off wasn’t working. And nothing he said, short of spilling the beans, was going to convince her that it hadn’t been a big deal. It must have been huge.

  “You know,” her father said, removing his hand from her cheek and scanning the yard, “now that I’m here, I’m going to take a little walk before it gets dark.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  He shrugged. “I’m just going to check things out, see what’s changed and what hasn’t. I might even look for the foreman and ask him if any of the old ranch hands are still around. Some of them were friends of mine.”

  “Okay. But, Daddy, what—”

  He raised his hand like a traffic cop, halting her words with a warning look. “If things had been different, Tammy, I never would have met your mother or had you and your brothers. So just drop it.”

  Then he walked away, letting her know the discussion was over.

  Trouble was, everyone in the immediate family knew Tammy had a curious streak a mile wide. And now that she knew there was some kind of dark secret to uncover, she’d be darned if she’d back down and let it go.

  Moments later, as her father reached the barn and Tammy was still standing in the drive, a woman drove up in a bright red convertible.

  Tammy watched as she parked, then climbed from the car and removed a stylish, autumn-colored scarf from her head, revealing straight, shoulder-length blond hair.

  She wore a pair of boots and a brown skirt that had to be fashionable as well as expensive. Yet more remarkable was a cream-colored sweater that showed off an amazing set of bazooms.

  Would you look at that? Tammy had a pair a lot like ’em, but she kept hers hidden behind loose-fitting shirts, like the blue flannel one she had on today. After all, the darn things usually got in the way when she worked.

  Besides, she’d never liked getting that kind of attention from men.

  But then again, after meeting Doc today... Well, she wasn’t so sure about anything anymore.

  Either way, she removed her hands from the front pockets of her jeans and moseyed a bit closer to the much taller woman, introducing herself and her connection to Tex.

  The blonde stuck out a soft, manicured hand and gave her a solid greeting. “I’m Donna, Sam’s daughter.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Tammy tried out a friendly smile on her attractive cousin and was glad to see it returned.

  Well, it wasn’t one of those full-on, warm-and-fuzzy smiles that said, “Let’s be friends.” Hers was more like, “If I have to be here, I may as well make the best of it.”

  But Tammy could live with that.

  “Have my father or my sister, Jenna, arrived yet?” Donna asked.

  “Nope, not yet. So far, it’s just you, me and my dad. My two brothers, Aidan and Nathan, won’t get here until later this week. They’re on a f
ishing trip out in the wilds of Montana, and we have no way of even contacting them until later this week.”

  Donna nodded, as if she understood, yet something in her gut told Tammy the stylish, citified woman had never gone fishing or hunting or camping before. Heck, she didn’t even look as though she could handle a temporary visit on a ranch.

  Of course, the conclusion Tammy came to when she took in her stylishly cut hair, the carefully applied makeup and that womanly shape.

  “I suppose I should go inside and let someone know I’m here,” Donna said, as she reached into the backseat of the convertible and took out a suitcase. Then she pressed a button that caused the top to roll down.

  “The housekeeper’s name is Tina,” Tammy said. “She’ll probably show you to your room. There certainly seems to be a lot of them, which means we won’t have to double up.”

  Meeting her new cousins was one thing. But sharing their sleeping quarters was another.

  Tammy scanned the sprawling house, which had to be three times the size of the one she shared with her father in Grass Valley. And their home was nearly two thousand square feet.

  As Donna strode toward the wraparound porch, her hips swayed in a way that looked natural and not at all fake. And Tammy couldn’t help being a bit envious.

  She wondered how old her cousin Donna was—certainly more than Tammy’s twenty-five years. Was she thirty yet? It was hard to say. Women who wore makeup could hide a lot of the telltale signs of aging.

  As if on its own accord, her hand lifted to her own face, which she never bothered to cover with color or protect with sunblock. Then she scoffed at the brief moment of insecurity and shoved her hands back in her pockets.

  Rather than follow Donna back into the house, she scanned the yard, taking in the big barn, the corrals and the outbuildings.

  About the time she decided that it might be fun to take off on her own little exploration of the Flying B, another engine sounded in the distance. She waited and watched as a blue pickup arrived.

  Another blonde sat behind the wheel. She really didn’t resemble Donna all that much, but Tammy figured it had to be Jenna—especially when she climbed out of the truck and reached for a suitcase in back. Who else could it be?

  Tammy gave her a once-over, noting that she was wearing jeans. But hers weren’t as worn or baggy as Tammy’s. In fact, they looked brand-spanking-new.

  Her frilly white cotton blouse didn’t hug her curves, like Donna’s sweater had. And unlike Donna, with her womanly curves, Jenna was slight and willowy. But she was just as pretty, just as feminine.

  And to be honest, it was enough to make Tammy want to squirm right out of her worn denim jeans.

  She sure hoped her cousins didn’t set their sights on Doc, because if either of them did, Tammy would be left in the dust.

  How in blazes was she supposed to compete with two beautiful women?

  For the first time in her life, Tammy—who could hold her own on a ranch full of men—felt sorely lacking.

  * * *

  Tammy’s father had yet to return after his walk, but that didn’t stop Tina from entering the living room, where Jenna and Donna had just joined Tammy, and suggesting they come to the kitchen and eat the pot roast Barbara had prepared.

  “Since everyone will be arriving at different times,” the older woman added, “I don’t see any point in making the rest of you wait to eat.”

  The young women, who’d barely had a chance to strike up a conversation, looked at each other, then agreed and followed Tina to the kitchen, where Barbara had set the table for three.

  “Later on,” Tina added, “I’ll take you to meet Tex. I know he plans to have a family powwow after everyone gets here, but that’s probably not going to take place until next weekend. In the meantime when he’s awake, I’m sure he’d like a chance to talk to each of you.”

  If Tammy were the dying man, she’d want to meet with each person individually, too. And she’d start off by calling in the sons who’d left the ranch and created lives and families of their own. But then again, most people didn’t do things the way Tammy did. Besides, it was Tex Byrd’s call.

  Once Barbara had served them, the two older women left them to eat in silence.

  After several uncomfortable minutes, Tammy set down her fork and leaned forward in her seat. “Okay, you guys. I think this whole family-reunion thing is weird, not to mention as awkward as all get-out.”

  Donna looked up from her plate, her eyebrows arched. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Jenna nodded her agreement.

  So they were all feeling the same thing—and probably just as curious about what had created all the ill feelings.

  “Do either of you know anything about that falling-out?” Tammy asked.

  “I’m afraid not, but I’ve always been curious.” Jenna glanced at her sister, then back to Tammy. “I knew we had an uncle and a grandfather, but that’s about it. My dad never talked about his childhood or life on the Flying B.”

  “Neither did mine,” Tammy said. “I asked about it a couple of times, but he refused to answer.” Tammy decided not to mention the talk she’d had with her dad just a few hours ago—or the revelation that Jenna and Donna’s father had done something “unforgivable.”

  “Maybe we’ll hear more about it at that family ‘powwow’ we’re supposed to have,” Jenna said.

  Tammy didn’t know about that. “After thirty-five years of silence, it’s hard to imagine any of those involved opening up.”

  “That’s too bad.” Jenna lifted her napkin and blotted her lips. “Having an unsolved family problem can affect other relationships down the road.”

  She was probably right, although it hadn’t seemed to affect Tammy’s father or his one and only relationship. Her parents had been happily married—at least, that’s what she’d heard.

  “Our parents divorced when we were young,” Donna said. “And our dad never remarried.”

  “We lived with our mother until we were eight and ten,” Jenna added. “And when Mom died, we moved in with our dad. By that time, I just assumed that we’d never be close with the Byrd side of the family. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

  Until Tex Byrd had called the family home, Tammy hadn’t given that side of her family a whole lot of thought. And even now, she wasn’t so sure she’d like her relatives, although Jenna and Donna seemed okay.

  Donna didn’t appear to be as forthright as her sister. In fact, the two didn’t seem to be especially close. But what did Tammy know about them—or about having relationships with other women?

  When it came right down to it, she didn’t have a single thing in common with either of her cousins—other than some shared DNA.

  Well, that and the fact they’d lost their mother, too.

  “I never knew my mama,” Tammy admitted. “She died when I was two, so my dad raised me on his own.”

  “I’m sorry to hear you lost your mother so young,” Jenna said. “A father doesn’t always understand what it’s like to be a girl growing up to be a woman.”

  That’s for sure. Tammy smiled. “I guess that’s why it was easier not to even try to be a lady.”

  Oh, no. Had she really said that? Out loud?

  “I mean,” Tammy said in an attempt to explain herself, “who needs high heels and prom dresses, anyway?”

  She’d never really missed the goofy adolescent glamour. Well, not until this very moment in time, when she realized that neither Jenna nor Donna would have a lick of trouble getting Doc’s attention when he showed up at the ranch tomorrow.

  And now look at her—trying to reach out and befriend two women who’d probably always be strangers to her. But something told her that Doc wouldn’t give a flying leap about how good she was with a lasso, so she was going to have to
learn the ropes of being a woman.

  And she knew just the women who could offer her some helpful feminine hints, if they were willing. After all, they were older and wiser when it came to that sort of thing.

  But could she lay her heart and soul on the line? Would they even care if she did?

  They seemed friendly enough, but they really didn’t know her. And when it was all said and done, when Tex Byrd called them all together and had his say, they’d probably head back to wherever it was they hailed from and never hear from each other again. So she couldn’t very well expect them to feel any family loyalty or be inclined to do her any favors.

  Or would they?

  Aw, heck. Just toss it right out there, Tammy Kay. Tell ’em that you’re in need of a little help learning how to apply makeup and to style your hair in something other than a braid or a ponytail.

  Maybe they’d even agree to go shopping with her for a dress. Her heart spun at the possibility of doing something other women did all the time—going to stores, trying on clothes and taking part in a little girl talk. Then going home and dolling up for the first time in her life.

  But it wasn’t just the feminine camaraderie that she found appealing. It was the results of it that set her imagination soaring.

  What if she did more than catch Doc’s eye? What if he went so far as to ask her out on a date?

  Her heart slipped into a zippity-do-dah beat.

  But for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to do anything other than spear a chunk of potato and stuff it into her mouth.

  What if her cousins laughed at her, or called her a tomboy and told her to take a hike, or refused to let her in on their secrets? Or, worse than that, if they just passed her by as if she didn’t matter at all? She wouldn’t bounce back from the rejection as quickly as she had in the past.

  As it was, she’d be leaning on her own feminine wiles tomorrow—as scary as that was. Because, come hell or high water, she’d snag Doc’s attention.

  She just hoped it would be in a good way. Because going on a date with Doc Sanchez was one romantic dream she didn’t want to see crash and burn.