Heart of Texas Volume 3: Nell's Cowboy. Debbie Macomber
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of dealing with a herd, horses for them to ride and plenty of land. Nell was as determined as Curly in the movie City Slickers to make real wranglers out of her guests. It was what they were paying her big bucks to do, and she firmly believed in giving them their money’s worth.
“Thanks,” Travis said when he saw her. He stood up to remove the bag from her arms, and she placed the lantern on a small wooden dresser opposite the bed.
“I realize this isn’t the Ritz,” she said as she spread the crisp sheet across the thin mattress.
“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers,” her guest reminded her. “I’m grateful you’re willing to take me in at all.”
Actually no one had thought to ask her. It was her mother-in-law who’d agreed to put him up for the night when Phil Patterson phoned. But to be fair, Nell suspected she would have agreed herself.
“With the rodeo coming, the Pattersons didn’t have any vacancies,” he explained unnecessarily, leaning over to help her with the top sheet and blanket.
The lantern actually gave a fair amount of light, much to Nell’s chagrin. She chose to pretend she didn’t recognize him. And either he was too tired to remember the way she’d harangued him at the side of the road or he’d decided to forget. Whatever the case, she was grateful.
“Does the Texas hill country generally get storms like this?”
“This one’s worse than some,” she told him, lifting the edge of the mattress to tuck in the covers. Given his size, she wondered if the bunk would be big enough for him. Well, there was no help for it, since this bed—or another exactly like it—was the only one available.
“What about losing your electricity?”
“Happens now and then,” she said, not looking at him. She reached for the pillow and stuffed it inside the case, then plumping it up, set it at the head of the bed. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, ready to return to her family.
“Nothing. I appreciate your putting me up,” he said again.
“No problem.”
“Mom.” Breathless, Jeremy burst into the bunkhouse, his face bright. He carried a blue-speckled tin coffeepot in one hand and a matching cup in the other. Emma followed with a covered plate.
“Grandma sent us over with hot chocolate and—”
“—one of Mom’s cinnamon rolls,” Emma finished for her brother. Travis could see a black-and-white dog waiting patiently at the door.
He took the pot and cup from Jeremy and set them on the nightstand. “Hey, no one said anything about room service. How’d I get so lucky?”
Emma handed him the plate. “My mom’s the best cook in the world.”
Nell grinned and put an arm around each of her children. “Now probably isn’t the time to mention we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace for dinner.”
“Are you staying for the chili cook-off?” Emma asked their guest.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Travis sat on the side of the bed and poured himself a mug of steaming cocoa.
Nell wasn’t sure how Ruth had managed to heat the cocoa—the fireplace, she supposed—but was pleased her mother-in-law had made the effort.
“Mom’s going to win. Her chili’s the best.”
“Emma’s opinion might be a little biased,” Nell said, steering the two children toward the door. “Let us know if you need anything.”
“I will. Good night,” Travis said as they left to go back to the house.
Nell turned and smiled when she saw that he’d already started on the cinnamon roll with the appreciation of a man who rarely tasted anything homemade.
The children ran across the yard ahead of her. Lucky, their border-collie mix, followed at their heels. Ruth waited for Nell in the kitchen, holding the candle and looking inordinately pleased with herself.
“Travis Grant seems like a nice young man,” she said the moment Nell entered the kitchen.
“He’s from New York City,” Nell said, wanting it understood right then and there that he was a big-city boy and only drifting through Promise. It just so happened that he’d ventured into a strange town and needed a place to sleep; there’d be plenty of guests just like him in the months to come.
“We have a big day tomorrow,” Nell said. “It wouldn’t hurt any of us to get to bed early for once.”
As she’d expected, her children put up token protests, but they didn’t argue long. Both were tired and, without electricity, there was little to entertain them. The lights probably wouldn’t be coming on soon, especially with the rain and the wind still so intense.
“Did our guest mention what he’s doing in Promise?” Ruth asked. She held her hand protectively in front of the flame of the candle she carried and led the way across the living room.
Nell wondered, too. “He didn’t say.”
“You could’ve asked.”
“Well, I didn’t. That’s his business, not mine.”
“Weren’t you curious?”
“A little.” A lot actually, but Nell wasn’t willing to admit it.
“He’s probably here for the rodeo,” Jeremy suggested, heading up the stairs, Lucky at his side.
“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Nell wasn’t sure why she thought that, but she did. Her guess was that when morning came Travis Grant would pack up his bags and leave.
“He reminds me of someone,” Emma said, and yawned.
“Me, too,” Jeremy murmured.
Jake. Nell had seen it, too, not in looks but in build. Travis Grant was a lumberjack of a man, just the way her beloved Jake had been. Sadly the children’s memories of their father had dimmed with time into vague recollections.
The family stood at the landing at the top of the stairs, where they exchanged good-night hugs and kisses. Even Jeremy let his mother and grandma kiss him tonight. Ruth guided the children to their bedrooms while Nell retrieved a candle for herself.
Once everyone was in bed, she undressed and put on a full-length white cotton nightgown. She unbraided her hair and brushed it out, the thick dark tresses reaching halfway down her back. Jake had loved her hair, had often gathered it in his huge hands and run it through his fingers. Nell missed those moments, missed everything about Jake.
Time, she’d discovered, was a great healer, just as Pastor McMillen had told her. The grief became duller, less acute, with every month and year that passed. But it was still there, always there. Now though, her grief shared space with all the good memories, the happy moments they’d had together.
Nothing would ever erase those ten wonderful years she’d shared with the man she loved.
Setting her hairbrush aside, Nell pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. She leaned against the headboard, her back supported by two pillows, and opened the drawer in her nightstand. She took out a pen and her journal.
By the light of a single candle, she wrote down the events of the day, pausing now and then to collect her thoughts. When she’d finished, she reread what she’d written, something she rarely did, and was surprised to note she’d mentioned Travis Grant in the first line. It didn’t take her long to figure out why.
It was because he was like Jake and meeting him had shaken her. Not the first time on the road into town, when she’d stopped and read him the riot act, but later. It hadn’t hit her until they stood across from each other to make the bed. He was the same height as Jake.
Nell reached for the framed photograph of Jake taken on their wedding day. It was