The Rancher's Best Gift. Stella Bagwell
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to Benson and Tucson stop to eat. The building isn’t much to look at and we mostly just have short orders, but the customers seem to enjoy it and I love working there.”
The moment she’d started to talk about her job, the taut expression on her face had relaxed.
“To tell you the truth, Camille, I didn’t even know you could cook until tonight.” He gestured to his empty plate. “By the way, it was delicious.”
“Thanks. That’s what I like to hear.” She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms across her breasts. “I think Mom regrets that Reeva allowed me to help her in the kitchen. I probably don’t have to tell you that she expects more out of me than being a cook.”
“Why? Because you’re a Hollister?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Yeah,” he said after a moment of thought. “It’s a lot to live up to.”
She smiled and the expression on her face was suddenly sunny and sweet and exactly the way he remembered her when he’d first come to Three Rivers. The sight sent a poignant pang rifling through him and he hated himself for being so sentimental. Especially with Camille. Of all the Hollister siblings, she’d often been more of a rebel than Holt.
She said, “I actually think you understand.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I’m not a Hollister, but Joel always expected a lot from me. More than I thought I was capable of. It was never easy trying to live up to the expectations he had of me. I tried. But I honestly don’t know if it was ever enough.”
“It was more than enough. You were like a son to him.”
Hearing those words from Camille twisted something deep inside him, and he wondered why seeing her again was bringing up thoughts he’d tried so hard to keep in the past.
She picked up his empty plate and carried it over to the sink. While she was gone, Matthew rubbed both hands over his face. These next two weeks were going to be even longer than he’d first imagined, he thought. And he was wondering just how early he’d need to get up in the morning to avoid running into her before he left the house. Or how late he would need to stay out at night until she went to bed.
Her fragrance drifted to him and he dropped his hands to see she’d returned to the table with a small plate of chocolate pie and a cup of coffee.
“I realize you’re tired, but I thought you might like dessert.”
“Did you make this?” he asked.
She gave him a half smile. “Yes. I bake pies for the diner, too. They’re a big hit with the customers, so the owner pays me extra for doing it.”
She’s simply staying on Red Bluff until she gets her head on straight.
Blake couldn’t be more wrong, Matthew thought as the man’s remark came back to him. Camille didn’t look or sound like she was suffering a broken heart. In fact, she appeared to be content. If the Hollisters were expecting her to return to Three Rivers to cry on their shoulders, they were all in for a rude surprise.
“This is very good,” he said after he’d taken the first bite. “It tastes like Reeva’s.”
“Thanks. That’s the best compliment you could’ve given me.”
“Are you not having any?”
“No. I’ve already eaten my quota of sweets for today.”
She propped her elbows on the table and rested folded hands beneath her chin. “So, what’s been happening at Three Rivers lately? Mom mostly keeps me informed, but I think she purposely avoids talking about certain things.”
“Like what?”
“Like my brothers’ and sister’s babies. She thinks hearing about them makes me sad because I don’t have any.” She moved her head back and forth. “And I guess in a way, it does. But if I’m meant to have children I’ll have them in due time.”
She had the frankness of her mother and the practicality of her father, Matthew thought. Together, she was unlike any of her siblings.
“All the children are fine and it won’t be long until Holt’s baby arrives. It’s going to be strange to hear him called Daddy.”
“I’m very happy for him. And Isabelle is wonderful. She’s the perfect match for him,” she said, then gave him a long, pointed look. “So, what about my brothers and their search into Dad’s death?”
Matthew shook his head. “You know about that?”
“Mom and my brothers don’t talk to me about it, but Vivian does. She says Mom clams up if she asks her anything about it and our brothers are obsessed with the subject.”
“What do you think?” he asked curiously. “That they should continue to search for answers or leave the whole thing be?”
Sighing, she closed her eyes, and Matthew used the moment to study her face. She’d always had beautiful features but now they held a maturity that made her even more attractive. All he could think was how stupid Graham Danby had been to ask for his engagement ring back and how lucky Camille was that he had.
“Answers would be good, I suppose,” she finally said. “But in the end it won’t bring Daddy back. That’s harder for me to live with than the not knowing.”
“Your brothers want justice.”
“Don’t you mean vengeance?”
“Maybe. I’d definitely like to serve up a little vengeance of my own.”
He rose from the chair and picked up the dirty dessert plate along with his cup. “Thanks for the meal, Camille. I really need to get to bed. The men are going to be saddled up by five thirty. That’s going to come pretty early.”
Nodding, she rose along with him and reached for the dishes in his hands. “I’ll take care of those. You go on.”
He started out of the room, then paused at the doorway to look back at her. “Camille, from now on you really need to let me fend for myself.”
The faint smile on her face said it didn’t matter what he said. Ultimately she’d do whatever she wanted to do.
“Good night, Matthew.”
“Good night, Camille.”
The next morning at the diner in Dragoon, Camille slid a stack of pancakes and a pair of over-easy eggs onto a warm plate, placed it on a tall counter and slapped a bell to alert Peggy that the order was ready.
The waitress immediately snatched up the plate and hurried away. Camille reached for the next order and recognized with a sigh of relief there wasn’t a next order. For the moment she was caught up.
“Wow! What a run. I haven’t had time to draw in a good breath!” Peggy exclaimed as she pushed through the swinging door and into the small kitchen. “Where are all of these people coming from?”
Camille sank onto a wooden stool and looked over at the tall woman with a messy black bun pinned to the top of her head. In her early thirties, with big brown eyes and a wide smile that hid all kinds of disappointments in her life, Peggy had become a dear friend to Camille.
“The few times I glanced out to the dining area, I didn’t spot one familiar face. They must all be travelers.”
“Hmm, good thing, I guess. If we had to depend on customers from Dragoon, we might as well close up the doors.” She looked over at Camille and shook her head. “Honey, I’ll never understand why you’re wasting yourself in this lonely little spot in the desert.”
She smiled wanly at her friend. “Because I like this little lonely spot in