The Rancher Takes A Family. Judy Christenberry
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had Andy and Betsy for company. The entire day had been so much better than her life in Kansas that she’d decided the thing to do was to make the best of the situation and see where it led.
But John apparently wasn’t going to make it easy.
She began putting the meal on the table. The centerpiece was a giant roast beef she’d cooked until tender, flanked by bowls of gravy, homemade biscuits, whipped potatoes, broccoli and red beans.
Just as everything was in place, the door to the mudroom opened and four men emerged. She moved to the kitchen door and extended her hand to the two men she hadn’t formally met. They were both young, in their early twenties, but they looked strong. “Hello, I’m Debra. Welcome to my kitchen,” she said with a smile.
The men introduced themselves, but she could tell they were distracted by the large amounts of food ready for them. All she did was nod in the direction of the table and the four men took their seats and dug in, no doubt ravenous after their workday.
“Man, this is the best food I’ve ever eaten, Miz Richey.”
“Thank you, Mikey, but please, call me Debra.”
“I’ll call you anything you want for a meal like this,” the cowboy returned.
“Debra will be fine, Mikey,” she said through a smile.
“Thank you for the clean clothes, too,” Jess added between bites.
“My pleasure. If you’re in the saddle all day, I don’t see how you’ve managed to get anything else done. I’d be exhausted.”
“True,” Jess said as he buttered a biscuit. “And we’re mighty grateful to you.”
Those two were completely won over, Debra thought. Unfortunately, her husband wasn’t. She noted that John’s face was growing stormier every moment. He obviously hadn’t counted on her doing her job. He’d immediately gone up to check on Betsy before his shower. Did he think she hadn’t taken care of her? Who could resist such a sweet baby?
When the men had finished, Debra asked if they’d like a roast beef sandwich to take with them in the morning, since they didn’t come in for lunch. She immediately got a pleased reception to her idea.
John, however, said, “Maybe you don’t realize that you have to have breakfast ready at six.”
“I assumed you started to work early, John,” she said calmly.
“My idea of ‘early’ isn’t nine o’clock.”
She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “For the last three years I’ve been getting up at four-thirty for work, so six o’clock will be sleeping in for me.” Take that, cowboy! She punctuated her reply with a verbal punch but kept it to herself. This man certainly had a lot to learn if he thought she’d run screaming from hard work.
John was quiet as she cleared the table and put a homemade chocolate cake in the middle. “Would anyone care for dessert?” she asked, her voice as sweet as the frosting.
Not even John said no. He didn’t, however, join the men in their rousing praise for her good cooking.
When she began the cleanup, the men actually brought their dishes to the sink, a courtesy she hadn’t expected. She warmly thanked them and suggested they go to the family room and relax.
With the dishwasher, the cleanup only took a few minutes. She swept the floor and wiped down the counters, then performed a visual check to be sure the kitchen was immaculate before she went to the mudroom to launder their dirty clothes.
As she was loading the washing machine, she felt someone staring at her. Spinning around, she found John at the door.
“You don’t have to do that tonight. You’ve already worked hard enough.” He glanced away from her as he spoke.
“Actually, the machine does all the work…unless the noise will bother you.”
“No, but—” He kept his head down, as if the toes of his boots were worthy of intense study. “Listen, I was rude this morning. You did all the work anyway. I owe you an apology.”
So there was a human under all that bluster, she thought, barely suppressing a smile. Maybe Uncle Bill was right and John just needed some time to get used to the idea of marriage again. And, she had to admit, it felt good to be appreciated for what she’d done. No one had ever made her feel that way, especially her mother.
“I think Uncle Bill may have misled both of us,” she said. “But now you know I’m a hard worker, and I appreciate the benefits.”
Something she’d said upset him, she realized at once. His head shot up and his back stiffened. Before she could inquire, he turned back on those boot heels and walked away.
Debra stood there, laundry in hand. What had she said to chase away the new and improved John Richey? Whatever it was, it had cost her an opportunity to make peace with her new husband, and she regretted it. When, she wondered, would she get another chance?
John appreciated the well-cooked meal and the clean clothes, but that didn’t reconcile him to his second marriage. Especially since his new wife was counting on reaping the “benefits.” So she thought she could get a lot of nice things out of him like Elizabeth had? Well, she thought wrong.
Betsy seemed at peace, too. She was clean and sweet-smelling and sound asleep. Still, she’d wake up at four in the morning, as usual, and he’d feed her the 4:00 a.m. bottle, as usual. He loved feeling that warm little body in his arms, loved knowing she was totally dependent on him. It was Betsy who had pulled him out of his bout of bitterness and hate for Elizabeth.
It would always be Betsy who kept him on the straight and narrow, working to make his ranch successful. She deserved the best.
If they had a good crop of bull calves this season, he could escape some of the crippling debt Elizabeth had saddled him with. He’d been so in love with her he’d provided more than he should have, more than he could afford. But he’d wanted to make Elizabeth happy.
In return, she’d made him miserable and deeply in debt.
As he stared at the television in the family room with the others, he gritted his teeth. He was never going to let a woman do that to him again.
“John?”
His head snapped up. Debra was standing at the end of the couch, staring at him. “What?”
“May I speak to you for a moment?”
With the others, especially Bill, around him, he had no choice but to acquiesce.
Following Debra into the kitchen—a completely clean kitchen, he realized—he prepared himself for her demands. “What do you want?”
“I need a few things from the grocery store. Is there a car I can borrow, and do you have an account at the store or will you give me money?”
“I should’ve known. The kitchen is full of food! You haven’t been here twenty-four hours and already you’re demanding money!”
He expected her to try flirting to get her way, followed by crying. That was the pattern his first wife had used many times.
Instead, after staring at him for several seconds, she simply left the room.
After a moment, he followed her, sure she was going to plead her case with her uncle.
But when he entered the family room, there was no sign of her. “Did Debra come through here?” he asked.
Bill looked up in surprise. “She said good-night and went upstairs.”
John was stunned. Why hadn’t she pressed him? Come to think of it, Elizabeth had never asked for groceries. Her requests had always been personal. Was the kitchen missing some key ingredient Debra needed?
After pacing the room for several minutes, ignored by his men, he decided to go upstairs and