The Black Sheep's Proposal. Patricia Thayer
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mother’s life insurance money to buy the first herd. She thought about her father now and she grew sad, knowing he was going to have to leave here, anyway.
Luke’s gray eyes filled with mischief. “So you think you can make a rancher out of me?”
Her pulse raced as she looked him over. “You are a Randell, so I’d say it’s already been bred into you.”
Two mornings later Luke was still thinking about Tess Meyers. She’d managed to interrupt his thoughts sporadically in the past forty-eight hours. Although he’d spent most of the time in solitude, and his meals had consisted of frozen dinners he put into the small microwave he’d brought with him, he still wanted to eat in peace. The crazy thing was, he actually had thought about her offer…all of thirty seconds.
Luke sipped his coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter. The room was huge with built-in cupboards that lined the walls. The countertops were a golden-hued Mexican tile, and the floor was covered in terra-cotta brick.
He smiled. He remembered it vividly since he used to eat breakfast here as a child. The very same table was placed by the row of windows that overlooked the barn and corral. Back then there were ranch hands around, helping his father run the place. Sam had gotten out of the military…and he was finally home with his family.
Luke had just turned five and gotten a new horse for his birthday that summer. He rode Bandit every day until he went off to kindergarten. Life could have been better, but it could get a lot worse. Parents could fight and decide to end a marriage…destroy a family. And a boy might never see his dad again.
Luke shook away the thoughts. Damn. Stop it. He was an adult now. He’d gotten over all that long ago. He’d moved on. Or had he?
There was a knock on the door, pulling him back to the present. He looked through the screen and saw Livy and an older woman.
Surprisingly he was happy to see her. “Morning, shortcake. You came back.”
“It’s okay, I’m ’posed to be here now.”
“I’m glad.” He opened the door. “Who’s your friend?”
Livy giggled. “She’s not my friend, she’s my aunt Bernie.”
“Bernice Peterson,” the older woman said, and offered a warm smile that crinkled the corners of her hazel eyes. “Please call me Bernice.”
“Nice to meet you, Bernice. I’m Luke. Would you come in?”
Both females walked into the kitchen. “I hope it’s not too early, but I wanted to bring you some biscuits while they were still warm from the oven.”
“Of course it’s never too early if you bring food,” he said. “You must have heard my stomach growling all the way to your house.” He took the basket, placed it on the counter and dug out a soft, steaming biscuit. He took a bite and groaned. “Delicious. I could get used to this.”
“Thank you.” She grinned. “I do appreciate a man with an appetite.”
“And I appreciate home cooking. Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thank you. We need to get back to the house.”
“Yeah, we can’t leave Grandpa by himself,” Livy told him. “And Mommy’s in the corral working Whiskey. He’s gonna be the NCHA champion some day,” she announced proudly.
“Olivia, it’s not nice to brag,” Bernice said. “Now, ask Mr. Luke before we wear out our welcome.”
“My mom, Aunt Bernie and me want to invite you to supper tomorrow night.” The child’s eyes widened. “Will you come? Aunt Bernie is making our favorite, pot roast with those tiny potatoes. And there’ll be a surprise…”
This child was a charmer. So different from her mother’s no-nonsense attitude. “Well, how can I turn down an invitation like that? I’d love to come. What time?” “Say six o’clock,” Bernice said as she started for the door. “Come on, Livy, we need to get back to Grandpa.”
“I hope Mr. Meyers feels better soon.”
Livy looked up at him, her eyes sad. “Grandpa is really sick. He doesn’t even read me stories anymore.” Her gaze widened. “Do you read stories, Mr. Luke?”
Tess stood in her father’s bedroom. “It’s okay, Dad. I can do it for you.”
“No,” Ray Meyers argued, pushing her hand away. “I can button my own damn shirt.”
Tess stood back, but watched protectively as her aging father worked at the simple task. Today was one of his more lucid days. And she was grateful.
His fingers were clumsy but he managed the job. The sixty-five-year-old one-time rodeo cowboy, horse trainer and rancher looked used up. She brushed a tear from her eye. His thinning hair was more white than gray. His lined skin was liver spotted and his blue eyes were tired…and sad. To her he was the most wonderful man in the world. And soon he wouldn’t remember her…or his granddaughter.
“Hey, Dad, you want to sit outside today? It’s not too hot yet.”
“I don’t want to sit on the porch…I need to check the herd.” He glanced at Tess and a strange look came over him. “Mary Theresa, why aren’t you in school?” he asked, suddenly agitated “You don’t want me to get into trouble again do you?”
“No, Daddy. I don’t.” She knelt down next to his chair. “You know I love going on roundups with you.” She wanted to store up all the memories she could, no matter if they were decades old.
“And I love you with me, too, baby girl. But you need to go to school.” He brushed his hand over her head and cupped her cheeks. “You’re so pretty…just like your mama.”
A tear ran down her face. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too.” Then the look in eyes changed to confusion and Tess knew she’d lost him.
“How about if I turn on the television and you can watch The Price is Right?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she pressed the remote to the game show, then left the room.
Bernice looked up from her crossword puzzle at the kitchen, but Tess didn’t want to talk right now. She needed an escape for a few hours. She turned to Livy who was playing with her cat on the back porch.
“Hey, sweetie, how would you like to go riding?”
It was late morning, and the August sun was beginning to heat up by the time Tess saddled the horses. Her dad’s gelding, Dusty, was ready for Livy. The old buckskin hadn’t been ridden much lately, and the exercise would be good for him. She led Whiskey and Dusty out of the barn. That’s when she looked up and saw Luke pull his car up at the back of the house and get out.
“Mom, look it’s Mr. Luke.” Before she could stop her daughter, the child took off running. “Hi, Mr. Luke,” she called.
“Hey, shortcake,” he called back and started toward the corral. He was in a pair of faded jeans and a chambray shirt and boots. He sure didn’t look like a businessman.
Tess watched her daughter beam as she approached him. “We’re going riding.”
“Seems like a nice day for it,” he said as he caught up to the child. His gaze met Tess’s and offered an easy smile.
Ignoring the funny tingle, she touched her finger to her hat and nodded. “C’mon, Livy. We need to get going.”
The child seemed hesitant, then said, “Mommy, can Mr. Luke go with us?” She turned back to the man in question. “You can ride Dusty…he’s real gentle.”
It wasn’t a good idea. “Livy, Mr. Luke probably has a lot of things to do today.”
The girl looked up at her new hero. “Do you?”
Luke slipped his hands into