Kitabı oku: «Cavanaugh Cowboy», sayfa 3
“What, he’s my new boss now?” Rawlings asked resentfully, jerking his thumb at Sully and looking disgruntled.
“No, but I am, and I just gave you a direct order,” Rae pointed out, looking at Rawlings expectantly.
“That’s going to take me forever on foot,” Rawlings protested.
Rae took off a key from her key ring and then held it out to the wrangler. “Go back and get the other truck. And try not to drive it into a ditch,” she warned. “It belongs to Miss Joan.”
“What she gonna do if something happens to it?” Rawlings asked sarcastically.
“Trust me,” Rae answered, looking up into his eyes. “You do not want to find out.”
Rawlings frowned as he took the key from her. “I’ll be careful.”
“Wise decision,” she told him.
Taking the key and putting it into his pocket, Rawlings started to go off in the direction of the bunkhouse. Just before he left, the wrangler glanced over his shoulder and glared at the newcomer. When Sully glanced his way, Rawlings ducked down his head and quickened his pace.
“I don’t think I made any points with your man,” Sully told her as he got back to digging holes for the posts.
Although she didn’t want to, Rae found herself staring at the way the man’s muscles strained and seemed to bulge with every movement he made with the shovel. It took considerable effort to draw her eyes away.
She replayed what he had asked earlier when Rawlings had told her that the other man had taken off. It raised questions in her mind.
“What did you say you did before you came here?” she asked.
“I didn’t say.” Pausing for a second, he spared her a glance. “You didn’t ask,” he reminded her in case Rae thought he was being flippant.
“I’m asking now,” she told him, waiting.
“A little of this, a little of that,” he said vaguely.
Some people reacted strangely when they found out that he was a detective with the Aurora police department, so it wasn’t the first thing he volunteered when he was asked.
“Do this and that have a name?” Rae asked him pointedly.
“Yes,” he answered, his breath growing a little short as he dug yet another hole. He was grateful that there were only two more holes left to dig.
“So are you going to tell me what you did, or are you waiting for me to say ‘pretty please?’” Rae asked. When she saw his mouth curve in a deep smile, she decided she’d had enough of playing games. “What the hell were you?”
“A detective,” Sully answered. Crossing his arms and resting them on top of the shovel handle, he added, “I still am.”
Chapter 4
Rae looked at the man who was working up another sweat before her with renewed interest. “A detective?”
Because of what he was doing, it took Sully a second before he could answer. “Yes.”
She tried to reconcile the image of the man before her with the one he’d just told her about.
“You’re one of those people other people hire to find someone?” she questioned.
“No,” he explained patiently as he continued digging the last post hole. The ground around here felt as if it was made out of clay. Hard clay. Trying to dig a hole in it was both a challenge and at times felt like exercise in futility.
With every move he made, he could feel the muscles in his arms vigorously protesting. “I’m one of those people who works for the police department,” he answered.
That made even less sense to her than her first assumption. “You work for the police department,” she repeated.
“That’s...what... I...said.”
Maybe he was in worse shape than he thought, Sully decided. Digging shouldn’t be taking this kind of a toll on him. He stopped for a minute longer to catch his breath and then resumed digging.
Rae moved around so that she was directly in front of this so-called police detective in wrangler’s clothing. “If you’re telling the truth—”
He stopped dueling with the cement-like soil to look at her. At this point, he was up for only one battle at a time. It was either digging or matching wits with this foreman.
“Why would I lie about that?” Sully asked.
“Okay,” she amended. “You’re a police detective.” She granted him that, although part of her was still dubious. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
He looked accusingly at the shovel and then decided maybe he was better off digging. With luck, Rae would get tired of this and leave him to do the work.
“Right now, trying to dig a hole in this soil and wondering what the hell is in it to make it almost completely impenetrable,” he answered.
Rae frowned, waving away his response. She could see what he was doing, and that wasn’t what she meant. “Sections out here in this area are really hard to dig in, but that’s not the point right now.” Taking hold of the handle of his shovel, she held it fast so he was forced to stop digging altogether—not that he minded all that much. “What are you doing here, Cavanaugh?” she repeated with more feeling. It didn’t make any sense to her, and she hated things that didn’t make sense. “Forever isn’t exactly on the map as a prime vacation spot.”
“I’m not out here on a vacation,” Sully informed her. “I’m out here to clear my head.”
“You said you were from California. There have got to be places you could do that in that are closer to home,” Rae pointed out.
His eyes met hers. She continued looking at him, waiting for an answer. The woman was pushy, he’d give her that. She was also getting on his nerves.
“Maybe I don’t want to be closer to home,” he countered. “Now, if you’re through interrogating me, I’d like to get back to work.”
That wasn’t entirely true, he thought, but it was better than butting heads with this woman.
But Rae refused to back off. “Why don’t you want to be closer to home? What happened?”
If she still had a home—and a family—nothing would have made her leave. She would have fought to stay. She couldn’t understand someone willingly abandoning his home.
Okay, he’d been polite enough. Time to mark his territory, Sully thought. “That, Ms. Mulcahy, is none of your business. It has nothing to do with how well I work or how fast I can get things you need done.”
Annoyed, Rae decided to back off for the time being. She could be patient. She’d get the information she wanted another way.
“Prickly sort, aren’t you?” she commented. “All right, I’ll leave you to it, then. And when you finish digging that hole, start putting the poles up. I’ll be back later.”
“Looking forward to it,” Sully told her. There was no emotion in his voice to give her any indication how he actually meant that.
Rae opened her mouth to make a retort, then decided there was no point. Instead she got into her truck without another word and drove back to the bunkhouse.
* * *
After considerable effort, Sully finished digging the last hole. Taking a five-minute break, he next turned his attention to properly sinking the new posts into the holes he had dug.
He quickly discovered that doing that on his own was a lot more challenging than he’d initially thought. The problem arose because the object was to make sure that the post was straight once the dirt was firmly packed around it.
After two failures, he tried a third time.
Sully once again leaned the pole against his shoulder as he grappled with refilling the hole. He had finally gotten the first pole in position when he heard the sound of a truck approaching.
He blew out a breath, not sure if he was relieved or annoyed at the interruption.
“Looks like the boss lady’s checking up on me,” he muttered under his breath.
He would have preferred getting at least one—if not more—of the poles up before Mulcahy came back, but obviously there was nothing he could do about it now, Sully thought.
However, when the truck pulled up next to him, it wasn’t Rae who got out of the cab. Instead, it was the man she had introduced as Jack Rawlings and another, taller man who got out on the driver’s side.
Pausing, Sully dragged the back of his wrist across his forehead in an effort to wipe away the sweat before it dripped into his eyes and stung.
He did a quick assessment of the man next to Rawlings. He was about half a head taller than Rawlings, but he looked even more out of shape. Soft and pudgy-looking—in Sully’s estimation the so-called wrangler appeared as if he would have been more at home behind a desk.
“I take it you’re the missing wrangler,” Sully said to Rawlings’s companion.
“Missing?” the man repeated, confused. When he squinted, looking from Sully to Rawlings, his eyes all but disappeared. “I wasn’t missing. I just had something to do, that’s all.” He glanced again at the man beside him, clearly annoyed and yet somewhat afraid of showing it. “You told this guy I was missing?”
It was apparent that Rawlings didn’t do well with blame. “You weren’t in your bunk when I woke up. How’m I supposed to know you didn’t take off?”
“The last time I looked, you weren’t my ex-wife,” John Warren all but snapped. He backtracked a little as he added, “I don’t have to ask your permission to go somewhere.”
In Sully’s estimation, this could turn ugly given enough fuel. He didn’t want to get caught up in the middle of that.
“Hey, guys, I could use a hand here,” Sully said, calling the wranglers’ attention to the pole that was still propped up against his shoulder. “If one of you could just hold this upright and straight, the job would go a lot faster.”
It was plain by the look on Rawlings’s face that everything was going to rub the man the wrong way no matter what was said. “You her junior foreman now?” Rawlings challenged belligerently.
“I’m just trying to get the job done,” Sully answered. Thinking that being nice to the wrangler wasn’t working, he had nothing to lose by putting Rawlings in his place. “Maybe if you put down that giant chip on your shoulder, you could move a little faster.”
Rawlings looked incensed, and for a split second, it seemed as if the wrangler was going to launch himself right at him, Sully thought.
But obviously at the last moment, common sense—and the fact that Sully was close to a foot taller than he was—prevailed.
Rawlings frowned, glaring at Sully. “This isn’t over, you know,” he warned.
“Didn’t think it was,” Sully replied mildly. It took effort, but he forced himself to get back to the immediate problem he was dealing with. “Now can one of you hold this?”
It was obvious that Rawlings wasn’t about to make an effort, so Warren stepped up. “I’ll do it,” the no-longer-missing man volunteered.
“Thanks,” Sully said.
When Warren wrapped his arms around the post, Sully picked up the discarded shovel. Within moments, he was attempting to evenly shovel dirt around the pole. Although this job was a lot less taxing than digging the holes had been, Sully could swear he felt calluses forming on the palms of his hands.
“Hey,” Warren called over to the man who had supposedly gone looking for him. When Rawlings, who had just sunk down on the ground some distance away from them, looked in their direction, Warren told him, “We could use some help over here.”
But Rawlings didn’t budge. “Looks like you’ve got it all under control to me.”
“Then maybe you should get your eyes checked,” Sully told the inert man in an even voice, one that gave every indication that he expected to be listened to.
He wasn’t here to win any popularity contest, Sully thought. Right now, he just wanted to get a job done, one that Miss Joan’s foreman had assigned to him. He had no idea what Rawlings’s problem was, but he wasn’t about to let it get in the way of their getting this job done.
“Now get over here and help Warren hold this pole in place so that it looks straight and I can get it put into the ground properly.”
“C’mon, Rawlings,” Warren appealed to the other wrangler. “The sooner you help, the sooner we’ll get all these posts in the ground so we can all get back to the bunkhouse.”
Again Rawlings wasn’t about to take the blame. “Hey, I’m not the one who took off,” he snapped.
“You’re also not the one who did any work today,” Sully reminded the antagonistic wrangler. His voice was low and civilized. But there was no mistaking that the man behind the calm voice could only be pushed so far and no more.
Swearing and muttering some unintelligible things under his breath, Rawlings joined them and grudgingly put his back into it.
* * *
After she’d made sure that both Rawlings and the “missing” Warren were on their way to help Cavanaugh, Rae made a beeline for town and Miss Joan’s diner. She had questions that needed answering, and it seemed that she was only going to get those answers from one source.
The moment she walked into the diner, she saw the person she needed to talk to.
“Miss Joan, about that new guy you just sent me,” Rae said as she crossed to the counter that ran along the back of the diner.
Miss Joan had just served one of her regular customers. She looked up the moment she heard her name. Despite the fact that she recognized the young woman’s voice, Miss Joan was still surprised to see Rae at the diner.
Collecting herself, she assumed a dour expression as she asked, “What happened to ‘hello’?”
“Hello,” Rae said with just a touch of impatience before she got back to her question. This time she phrased it differently. “What’s that’s guy’s story?”
“What do you mean?” Miss Joan asked. Innocence did not look at home on the woman. The best she could do was display a poker face.
Rae had a feeling that Miss Joan knew exactly what she meant, but she answered the question anyway. “He said he’s a police detective.”
Miss Joan nodded. “That’s what I heard, yes,” she confirmed.
Rae pressed her lips together. She was accustomed to having down-on-their-luck cowboys or wannabe cowboys working on the ranch as well as other men whose previous vocations were usually of the nondescript variety.
The one thing the men all had in common was that they were just passing through Forever and the J-H Ranch because life had ridden roughshod over them.
But even so, there appeared to be something rather different about this latest man who had popped up at the ranch.
He wasn’t like the others.
Miss Joan indicated the counter stool with her eyes, but Rae felt too wired to sit down.
“Why would a police detective be out here?” Rae asked.
“Maybe he just needed a little peace of mind,” Miss Joan suggested. “Police detectives are people, too, you know, Rae.”
“I know that.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to gather strength. “Are you sure he really is a police detective? Did someone vouch for him?”
“Yes,” Miss Joan answered simply.
She wasn’t prepared to have Rae challenge her statement. “Who?”
Miss Joan looked at her in stony silence for a moment before finally answering. “The best person I know outside of Harry,” Miss Joan assured her. “Why? Is there something about him that’s bothering you?”
Rae shook her head. “He’s not the usual type who works on the ranch.”
“As I recall, neither were you at first when I decided to put you in charge of the J-H,” Miss Joan reminded her foreman. “More than one person told me not to do it.”
“That’s different,” Rae protested. “You knew me.”
Miss Joan raised her eyes to Rae’s. “I didn’t put you in charge because I knew you. I did it because I had a gut feeling that you could do the job and that being in charge at the ranch was what you needed in your life to finally get you on the right track.”
Rae wanted to argue with the woman, to insist again that it wasn’t the same thing. But Miss Joan had an aura about her that transcended logic, and she knew that almost better than anyone. When her father had died, leaving her alone, and she had felt so lost, so hopeless that she just couldn’t go on, it was Miss Joan who had been her lifeline. Miss Joan who had bullied her into not giving up and continuing to live.
Maybe, in her own way, she was doing the same thing for this man, this police detective she had sent to her to work with.
“And you have a gut feeling about this Sully?” Rae asked.
“Let’s just say he’s not anyone that I’m going to be worried about when it comes to working out. Now, if you have a problem with him,” Miss Joan continued, looking at Rae intently, “I suggest you talk it out with him. Best way to resolve things,” she told the girl she had taken in and watched blossom over the years. She eyed Rae for a moment when the latter made no comment. “We okay?”
“Yes, Miss Joan,” Rae replied dutifully. To try to go against the woman’s wishes would just be ungrateful.
“All right then.” Miss Joan took out a pie that was in the display case and placed it on the counter. “Why don’t you take a piece of one of Angel’s pies with you and get back to overseeing the ranch while I get back to doing my job?” she suggested, slicing a piece of the peach cobbler on the counter and placing it into a small white container. Snapping the lid into place, she pushed the container toward Rae.
Rae picked up the container and smiled her thanks at the woman. “I’ll have this after dinner.”
“Warm it up. It’ll taste better that way. You might also think about sharing it,” Miss Joan added. “I cut a big enough piece for that.”
Rae looked down at the container in her hand. She didn’t have to ask Miss Joan whom she wanted her to share the piece of pie with. That was silently implied.
“Maybe I’ll do that,” Rae answered, not wanting to commit herself to anything one way or another.
Turning on her heel, she made her way out of the semi-filled diner.
Just who was this new man to Miss Joan? Was he a relative? A relative of a person who had once figured prominently in Miss Joan’s life? Miss Joan had said that the person who had vouched for Sully was someone she considered to be the most decent man she knew after her husband.
Rae frowned to herself as she got into her truck. She tucked the container on the floor beneath the passenger seat.
Her conversation with Miss Joan had raised more questions for her than answers. The one thing she was certain of was that she was going to approach this police detective with caution as she continued to assess the situation. She was determined to find an answer as to what someone like that was doing digging holes and putting up posts on a small, run-of-the-mill ranch instead of taking a vacation at some showy resort or, at the very least, some trendy beach in his home state.
Something had made that man come out here, and she intended to find out what.
Chapter 5
“Is now a bad time?”
Startled, Rae turned away from what she was doing to see Miss Joan’s husband standing in the kitchen doorway, peering in.
“I knocked,” the mild-looking man explained politely, “but there was no answer, so I just let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”
Harry Monroe remained where he was in the doorway, waiting for a sign from the young woman that he could enter.
Rae quickly wiped her hands on the dish towel that she kept slung over the back of a nearby chair and immediately crossed the floor to the man who was the closest thing she had to a grandfather. Harry Monroe just exuded kindliness.
“This is your ranch house, Mr. Harry. You have absolutely every right to come in,” Rae told the man, although she had to admit that she was surprised to see him. Miss Joan’s husband didn’t normally come out to the ranch without calling ahead first.
“Still, if you’re busy, I can come back,” he offered gently, pointing toward the outer door for emphasis.
Rae laughed at that. “We’re always busy here, sir. But right now, I’m just putting our dinner on the table.” She gestured toward the table settings she had just finished putting out. Dinner had arrived, fully prepared, half an hour ago. Everything else had been stacked up in their oversize refrigerator. “Rosa’s a fantastic cook,” she interjected, referring to one of the young women Miss Joan currently had working at the diner, who had delivered the boxed-up meal. “She’s almost as good as Angel.”
The man nodded in agreement, although it would have been a surprise to hear him disagree. No one in town could ever remember the man having anything bad to say about anyone.
“That she is,” Harry said, then added, “If you’d like, Miss Joan can tell her to perhaps come out to the ranch during the week, prepare the meals here.”
But Rae shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m just happy that Rosa stocks up the refrigerator when she comes.” The woman always left a week’s worth of prepared meals, not just for her but for the wranglers, as well. She didn’t know what she would have done without Rosa’s help. “I don’t like to cook very much,” she admitted.
“You do more than enough out here already,” Harry assured her. “Trust me, Miss Joan and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.”
While Rae liked being appreciated, compliments always made her feel uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know where to look or what to say.
“You asked if this was a bad time,” she reminded the man. “Is this about that police detective Miss Joan sent to stay here?”
Harry smiled at the way she’d phrased her question. “So you’ve discovered his background, have you?” the man surmised.
She didn’t know if Harry thought it best if that remained a secret, but since she’d said it, she couldn’t very well take it back.
“The topic came up,” Rae answered evasively.
“So how’s he working out?” Harry asked her, his tone friendly as always.
Rae decided that it was best just to remain factual. “Well, unlike the last two who came here, this one doesn’t seem to have an aversion to work. Or to getting dirty,” she added, thinking of the way Sully had looked earlier today the first time she’d checked on him. “As a matter of fact, from what I saw, he was doing a pretty good job putting up fence posts.” She kept her praise down to a reasonable level, not wanting Miss Joan’s husband to get the wrong idea. “And as you know, this isn’t the easiest dirt to dig in.”
Mr. Harry laughed like a man who could attest to that firsthand. “Amen to that,” he answered. “So you got him settled in?”
Rae went back to setting the table. She nodded in response to the man’s question.
“He didn’t seem to have much, so when he finishes work for the day, he can put his stuff in the bunkhouse.” She noticed the rather puzzled expression on the older man’s face, but she kept on talking. “As you know, there’s plenty of room there.”
“The bunkhouse?” Harry repeated. Rae nodded. Looking a little embarrassed, Harry cleared his throat, then ventured an observation. “I think there’s been a little miscommunication, Rachel. Miss Joan doesn’t want Sully staying in the bunkhouse.”
She didn’t see what the problem was, or why. “That’s where the wranglers always stay.”
“I know, but Sully’s the great-nephew of one of Miss Joan’s oldest, dearest friends,” he told Rae, adding, “That makes him family in her eyes.”
Now it was becoming clear to her, Rae thought. She shifted uncomfortably. “And family doesn’t stay in the bunkhouse,” she concluded.
Harry smiled, nodding at her, apparently glad that she understood. “No,” he agreed, “they don’t.”
“Where do you want him to stay?” she asked cautiously, watching the man’s face—hoping he had some sort of alternative solution to the one that had popped up in her head.
Harry seemed oblivious to the dilemma that had just been raised.
“As I recall, this place has three bedrooms,” Mr. Harry began. When Rae made no comment, he prodded the discussion along. “Sully can sleep in one of the bedrooms that you’re not using.”
This was getting to be really uncomfortable, Rae thought, but she couldn’t very well come out and say that to Mr. Harry. The ranch and the structures on it all belonged to him, and he could do anything he wanted with them as well as have whoever he wanted staying in them. She had no say in the matter.
As if reading Rae’s mind, Harry said, “I know this arrangement might seem a little unusual to you, but I assure you that you don’t have anything to worry about. Sully comes from an excellent family.”
“So did Cain before he killed Abel,” she murmured under her breath as she reached across the table to arrange the last place setting.
“But I’m definitely nothing like Cain,” Sully said, walking in just behind Rae.
Rae swung around, swallowing the surprised gasp that had risen in her throat. She did what she could to smother her startled expression.
One look at Sully and it was obvious to anyone that he had been working hard for a good part of the day. There was dirt on his clothes and face, not to mention the scent of sweat coming from every inch of his body. Aside from looking exhausted, he carried himself like a man who had done more than an honest day’s work.
In addition, he also looked rather satisfied with himself, Rae thought.
Harry smiled broadly at the young man. Miss Joan had taught him not to stand on ceremony, but to seize the moment. He was still learning.
“You must be Sullivan Cavanaugh,” Harry said, crossing to Sully with his hand extended.
Sully returned the smile as he took the man’s hand in his and shook it.
“I guess I must be,” he said by way of confirmation. “And I guess that you must be Miss Joan’s husband.”
Rather than look annoyed at the label, Harry’s eyes crinkled as he laughed.
“That’s probably going to be on my tombstone when I die,” he said. “‘Here lies Miss Joan’s husband.’”
Rae took offense for the man, even though it appeared that Sully had meant no disrespect and Harry just took the whole thing in stride.
Glaring at Sully, she informed him, “You do realize that the only reason you’re here is because Mr. Harry was kind enough to give his permission to take you in, right?”
“I’m aware of that and I appreciate it,” Sully said, directing his answer toward the older gentleman. “Thank you, sir.”
It was clear by Sully’s demeanor that while he remained polite, Rae did not intimidate him the way she managed to intimidate the other two wranglers, at least whenever she reprimanded them.
Again Harry cleared his throat, as if that was a way to calm the situation down a bit.
“I didn’t come here to rock any boats or rattle any cages,” he said when the two younger people looked at him. “Those are both Miss Joan’s purview,” he added with a soft, amused chuckle. “I just came to see how you were getting along, Sully.” And then he asked formally, “Is everything to your satisfaction?”
The man was genuinely interested in his reply, Sully realized. For a split second, Sully caught himself feeling homesick. The second passed.
“Everything is just fine,” Sully replied. “They’ll be even finer once I get out of these dirty clothes and take a shower.”
“Then I won’t keep you,” Harry told him cheerfully. He looked at Rae. “Give him the room with the bathroom,” he advised.
Sully looked from Rae to the man who had just spoken. He’d looked into the bunkhouse briefly, and what Harry had just said didn’t make any sense.
“I don’t understand,” Sully said. “The bunkhouse isn’t divided into rooms—unless I missed something.”
Rae did her best to hide her annoyance. “What you missed is that you’re not staying in the bunkhouse,” she informed Sully.
Sully stared at her. “How’s that again?”
“That was my mistake,” Harry said, speaking up to take the blame and clear the air. “Rachel thought we wanted you to stay in the bunkhouse when we sent you over.”
“And you don’t?” Sully asked uncertainly.
“Miss Joan would have my head if she found out that you were crowded in with those two other men,” Harry told him, laughing at his own expense.
“I suppose she doesn’t want him working, either,” Rae surmised. Though she tried to suppress it, there was a less-than-happy note in her tone.
Sully didn’t wait for Harry to answer. “I like to earn my keep,” he informed her.
“And that’s what Miss Joan likes about you, boy,” Harry told him. “You don’t act like you think you’re entitled or privileged.”
If she didn’t know any better, it seemed to Rae that her boss was directing his words toward her rather than just talking to Miss Joan’s unexpected guest. In either case, she resigned herself to the fact that she had her instructions.
“I guess you’d better move your things out of the bunkhouse before you take that shower,” she told Sully. “Dinner’ll be on the table in half an hour. If you’re not here at the time, it’ll be put away.”
“Understood,” Sully told her in a genial tone.
Harry looked pleased with what he heard. “Well, looks like everything’s going well, so I’ll be going now,” he told Rae. “I’ll let Miss Joan know that you have everything under control—as usual,” the man added with a pleased smile.
Sully waited until the older man had left before he turned toward Rae. She half expected him to say something snide, because it was obvious that he had Miss Joan’s blessings in this matter.
Instead, she heard him tell her, “I can stay in the bunkhouse.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Why would you do that?”
In her opinion, anyone would jump at the opportunity to move into a better living situation if they had the chance. Why was Sully willing to turn it down and share his quarters with two strangers?
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Sully began. “After all, you were here first.”
Rae’s back instantly went up. It always did whenever she thought she was being offered charity or was being looked down on. Did he think she was afraid he would try something? She could defend herself very well, thank you very much.
“Why would you think that having you staying in the main house would make me uncomfortable?” she demanded angrily.
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