Cavanaugh Cowboy

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Sorry, my mistake,” Sully apologized. He started to withdraw from the room. “I’ll just go get my things,” he told her before he left the kitchen and then the house.

  Rae stood there in the kitchen, not making a move. Feeling as if she had just possibly won a battle and still somehow managed to lose the war.

  The truth of it was she didn’t want Sully staying in the house with her. She didn’t want anyone staying in the house with her. It made her feel as if she was being hemmed in.

  All in all it was rather a small house, and even though they would only be here for a minimum amount of time each day, they were bound to run into one another either in the morning or at night. Rae considered both of those times to be her private time, and she wanted to be able to just relax, not be wary of unexpectedly having contact with one of the people who were working for her.

  Especially not this man.

  Added to that, whether or not anyone came out and said it, this Sully character was being given preferential treatment. He had to be aware of that. What if he suddenly decided that he was entitled to preferential treatment from her, as well?

  Or what if he wanted something from her that she had absolutely no intention of giving? She wasn’t that kind of person.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself. Nothing’s going to happen—he’s got to know that Miss Joan would fillet him if he ever made a move on you she didn’t approve of, great-nephew of a cherished friend or not.

  With determination, Rae turned her attention to putting out that evening’s dinner. Even with all of Rosa’s earlier work, the meals still had to be warmed up, and at times, she had to do more than that to finish preparing the meals for them. Rae didn’t mind. She viewed it as just one of her jobs, along with all the other ones she handled on the small horse ranch.

  All in all, Rae had to admit that she really liked doing all the myriad things that were required of her and that went into keeping the ranch running as smoothly as it did.

  Most of the time, those things involved working with the horses and putting up with the various people—men mostly—that Miss Joan and, on occasion, Mr. Harry sent out to the ranch to help with its maintenance.

  Over the last few years, she had come to the conclusion that she could probably work with the devil himself if she had to—although she would have preferred not to if she had her choice, she thought with a grim smile.

  However, this latest wrangler, this police detective Miss Joan had gifted her with, was, she had to admit, a whole different story.

  She wasn’t really certain how to read him or, consequently, how to react to him.

  She’d concluded that he was definitely an educated man, which in itself was a pleasant change from most of the wranglers she had dealt with. And so far, he hadn’t given her anything to complain about—but he hadn’t even been here for twenty-four hours yet, so anything could happen.

  She wasn’t given to making snap decisions, Rae reminded herself as she went on putting the main course on the table and adding the two side dishes, as well. That meant she had to give the man a little time to get used to the routine here before she started finding reasons to want him to move on.

  Still, she couldn’t deny that there was something about the man that made her edgy. That made her feel as if she was constantly on her guard, waiting for something to happen.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the man, it was just that—just that—

  The truth of it was, she didn’t know what it was about Sullivan Cavanaugh that made her feel as if she was walking across an endless bed of hot coals without her shoes on.

  Calm down, Rae.

  Give the man a chance.

  That was just it, Rae realized. She really didn’t want to give him a chance, because that could lead to things that admittedly she wasn’t even remotely prepared to handle.

  She took a deep breath, doing her best to calm herself down.

  You are just going to have to wait and see how all this is going to play out, Rae told herself.

  “So, do you need any help?”

  The deep voice, unexpectedly coming from directly behind her, made Rae all but jump up in the air.

  Chapter 6

  Her heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest.

  “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on a person like that?” she cried, hating the fact that he could see that he had caught her completely by surprise and that her reaction probably amused him.

  “Sorry,” Sully said. And, if she didn’t know any better, she would have said that he was being genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t realize I was sneaking.”

  “News flash, you were,” Rae informed him tersely, still attempting to get her voice to sound normal and unaffected.

  “Maybe you’re just jumpy,” Sully suggested mildly. He watched Rae as she moved around the kitchen. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “What question?” she demanded, narrowly avoiding hitting him with a pot she was shifting from the stove to the counter.

  “Do you need any help?” He nodded at what he assumed was dinner, which she appeared to have just finished heating up on the stove.

  “You mean other than with getting my heart beating normally again?” she asked Sully sarcastically.

  He didn’t back off the way she expected him to. Instead, he seemed to take her words at their face value. “Actually,” Sully told her, “if that was the case, I could help with that, too.”

  She left the pot of mashed potatoes where they were on top of the stove. “So aside from being a police detective, you’re also a doctor on the side?”

  Sully ignored the fact that her question was dripping with sarcasm and answered her as if she’d asked the question in earnest.

  “No, but one of my aunts runs an ambulance service, and she insisted on teaching all of us a few basic things and what to do in life-and-death situations. I know how to give CPR,” he added.

  Rae spared him a quick glance before shutting off the last burner. Maybe he was on the level. Sully certainly looked sincere enough, she couldn’t help thinking. For now she took his words at face value and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Good. And about my other, more mundane offer? Helping with dinner,” he prodded when she looked at him blankly.

  Since it didn’t look as if she was about to get him to just sit down at the table and keep out of the way, she took Sully up on his offer.

  “Sure. You can carry that plate of brisket to the table.”

  Sully smiled in response. “I think I can manage that,” he told her.

  “New guy trying to make points?” Rawlings asked as he walked into what passed for a dining room but was really little more than just an extension of the kitchen.

  Rae looked over toward the latest arrival and frowned. “What did I tell you about taking off your hat when you’re in the house?” she asked the wrangler in a stern voice.

  Rawlings scowled in response, then finally pulled the dusty Stetson off his head. “You got too many rules,” he complained.

  “Warren doesn’t seem to think so,” Rae pointed out as the other man came in to join them.

  “Yeah, he just takes off without telling anyone and doesn’t show up to work when he’s supposed to,” Rawlings told her defensively.

  “Why don’t we all call a truce and sit down at the table for dinner?” Sully suggested in a friendly tone. He looked from a disgruntled Rawlings to a very tired-looking Warren, who quite obviously didn’t like having his faults pointed out. “It’s been a long day.”

  “I don’t need you giving us any orders, pretty boy,” Rawlings growled.

  “If you don’t like the way things are around here, Rawlings, you can always pack up and leave,” Rae informed the surly man, ladling the mashed potatoes into a serving dish. “Nobody’s stopping you.”


  For a second, the shorter of the two wranglers glared at her belligerently. But casting a side glance at Sully, who had stopped moving and appeared to be braced for something to happen, Rawlings seemed to think better of the situation.

  “Hot weather’s got me on edge,” he said as if that explained everything.

  Rae nodded. “None of us are at our best in this kind of weather,” she allowed. She was about to pick up the basket of biscuits she’d prepared and saw that Warren already had it in his hands and was headed toward the table. She inclined her head, smiling her thanks. “Thank you, Warren.”

  Warren looked almost sheepish to be on the receiving end of any sort of acknowledgment. “Yeah, no problem,” he mumbled.

  “All right, let’s all sit down and eat,” she told the three men around her.

  There were six chairs around the table. “Does it matter where I sit?” Sully asked Rae. When she looked at him quizzically, he explained, “I just wanted to make sure that there were no designated seats. I don’t want to take anyone else’s chair.”

  “You can have that one,” Rae told him, pointing to the chair that was directly opposite hers. Rawlings and Warren had already sat down in two of the other chairs.

  “Who are the other two chairs for?” Sully asked, curious.

  “Other people. When they’re here,” she added. “It all depends on how charitable Miss Joan feels like being.”

  “I ain’t no charity case,” Rawlings protested, the scowl on his face growing darker. “I work for my keep.”

  Rawlings appeared as if he was about to say something more in his defense, but at that point Rae raised her eyes to his face and the man grew silent. He turned his attention to his meal and chewed as if he was taking out his frustrations on the large cut of beef he had on his plate.

  “This is really good,” Sully told Rae, referring to the brisket. It was quite obvious that he was trying to defuse the situation before it escalated.

  “I can’t take the credit for it,” Rae said, fending off any compliment he might follow up with.

  Sully looked surprised. “I thought I saw you working over this in the kitchen.”

  “I was just heating it up,” she told him. Unlike with Rawlings, she avoided looking up at Sully. “One of Miss Joan’s girls comes by once a week to stock the refrigerator with meals she’s made. It’s all part of the package for working here.”

  “It’s still really good,” Sully said, trying to find a way to gracefully ease out of the conversation without giving any offense.

  He had no desire to get into an argument with this woman. Miss Joan had put her in charge, and he intended to abide by that.

  “Nobody’s arguing that,” Rae replied.

  Sully smiled to himself. He had a feeling that the woman was willing to argue over just about anything she could if she felt that it rubbed her the wrong way even the slightest bit. She probably enjoyed arguing. In a way, she reminded him of his sisters.

  “That’s supposed to make up for the low pay,” Rawlings grumbled to himself.

  Rae was working hard to hang on to her temper. “Like I said, if you don’t like it here, Rawlings, nobody’s making you stay.”

  “You mean that now that he’s here, you don’t need me to stay,” Rawlings retorted.

  “Why don’t you settle down?” Sully told the man. “That’s not what she said.”

  It was clear that had Sully been a less able-looking man, an altercation would have broken out. But Rawlings wasn’t a total hotheaded idiot, and he could see that he’d lose in any sort of a fight with the new man. So instead, he glared and went back to eating his meal in stony silence.

  The rest of the meal was quiet, with all four participants observing one another and being on their respective guards.

  Although silent, it was clear that Rawlings seemed ready to take offense at a moment’s notice, while Warren did his best to keep his own counsel, as did Sully.

  Consequently, the time it took to consume the meal seemed as if it was passing in slow motion. The minutes ticked by until finally, everyone had finished and, thanks to the two wranglers, there was nothing left of the brisket or the two side dishes.

  Sully noticed that the two wranglers lost no time in clearing out and disappearing. To the bunkhouse, he imagined. Since Rae had left the table as well, he debated leaving the room himself. The silence was almost uncomfortable at this point.

  But his upbringing had left some things deeply imbedded in his basic makeup.

  So when Sully rose from the table, he picked up his own plate as well one of the other two plates that the two wranglers had left behind in their wake.

  He walked into the kitchen proper just in time to hear Rae, her back to him, exclaim a none-too-subdued “Damn it!”

  “Something wrong?”

  Obviously angry, she looked at him over her shoulder. “Sneaking around again?” she accused.

  “Trying to make as much noise as I can,” he answered, still holding the two plates in his hands. He asked his initial question again. “Something wrong?”

  “Yes, something’s wrong,” she retorted, waving her hand and glaring at the silent dishwasher. “The dishwasher died.” From the looks of the machine, it was as old as the ranch house itself, which was over forty years old.

  “You sure?” Sully asked. Sometimes these things came back to life after a good whack against one of its sides, although he wasn’t about to suggest that to her.

  For once, she appeared to try to contain her temper. “I don’t say things just to hear myself talk,” Rae informed him. “But you’re welcome to try to get it to rise up from the dead if you’d like.”

  This was a confrontation in the making, and he knew when to back off.

  “That’s all right. I’m sure you know what you’re talking about. Here,” he offered, “I’ll do the dishes—and the pots,” he added, noting that there were three lined up along the sink’s counter.

  Rae waited for some sort of a catch. “You’re volunteering to do the dishes?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yeah, why?” he asked. Sully looked around, then opened the cabinet doors right beneath the sink. “Where’s your dishwashing soap?” he asked. Then, bending down he spotted what he was looking for. “Oh, never mind. I found it.”

  For her part, Rae was still trying to process what was going on. “You don’t mind doing dishes?” she asked him in disbelief.

  “No. Should I?” he asked, wondering if there was some line he’d crossed or some unwritten law he’d inadvertently broken. He wasn’t versed in small-town behavior. Maybe things were different out here.

  “No, it’s just that—never mind,” Rae said. If he was volunteering to wash dishes, she wasn’t about to say anything to stop him. “Go right ahead, wash the dishes.” Then, belatedly, she added, “Thank you.”

  He nodded as he measured out some of the dishwashing liquid and then turned the faucet to get the water running. He watched as bubbles formed furiously, quickly filling up the sink.

  “You, too,” he told her.

  “For what?” she asked, confused.

  “Heating up dinner.”

  She assumed he was being sarcastic, then saw the mild expression on Sully’s face and decided that maybe he wasn’t.

  Turning on her heel, Rae started to leave, then thought better of it. She retracted her steps and picked up a towel.

  “You wash, I’ll dry,” she told him.

  If he was surprised by her change of heart, he didn’t show it.

  “Sounds good to me, Mulcahy,” he told her.

  She studied him for a moment as she waited for him to hand her a dish to dry. “You are a really odd duck, Cavanaugh.”

  His mouth curved just a little. “I’ve been called worse.”

  Rae laughed shortly. “You’re a police detective. I
imagine you would have been.” Taking the plate he held out to her, Rae dried it off quickly and placed it on the counter. She waited for him to finish the next one. “Why are you really here, Cavanaugh?”

  “I already told you,” he reminded her. “To clear my head.” And then he looked at her as he handed her another dish. “Why? You don’t believe me?”

  She didn’t say yes or no. Instead, she said, “You’ve got to admit that it’s a little strange, leaving a thriving, modern city behind you to come out here and get all sweaty, wrestling with posts and digging in practically the hardest substance known to man. And I haven’t even gotten around to getting you to muck out the stables.”

  Sully laughed. He had absolutely no doubt that she would.

  “I like a challenge.” She saw the handsome face become somber. “And maybe this’ll help put everything else into perspective.”

  She could feel her curiosity being piqued. “Like what?”

  Sully looked at her for a long moment. The moment stretched out so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer her.

  And then, in a far quieter voice, he said, “Like there are good, decent people in the world—and more of them than there are of the other kind.”

  “Other kind?” Rae repeated.

  She knew what he meant, but she had a feeling that something specific was eating away at him, and although she normally steered clear of personal subjects like that, his tone had a quality that made her really curious—to the point that she felt restless.

  “Yeah, other kind,” he confirmed, saying the words more to himself than to her.

  “You mean like the people who break laws?” Rae asked him.

  “You could say that.” But he could see that she wanted more of an explanation than that. “People who could literally fillet the skin off another human being and then just go on with their lives as if nothing—and I mean nothing—” he said the word bitterly “—happened.”

  She felt her breath backing up in her lungs. “You’re not just tossing words around, are you?” she asked Sully quietly. One look at his face told her that he wasn’t. He was deadly serious.