Frisco Joe's Fiancee. Tina Leonard
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to want to come out here and live in hard conditions. The cattle sale is in two weeks, and I’m not coming over here to cook and clean up after your crew while you’re gone. I’ve got enough on my hands as it is.”
“I wouldn’t want you to. You might lead my brothers into avoiding their duties.”
The last time Mimi had gotten a harebrained idea, they’d all gone picnicking at the lake. Mimi had brought along some cousins of hers from Idaho, and four of his brothers had proceeded to fistfight over the two girls. Mason had never been so ashamed of his family—a female was no reason to fight! But then Mimi had jumped into the fray, and he’d had to pull her out before she got herself hurt—and she’d slapped him soundly before she realized it was only her good friend rescuing her as a gentleman should. She’d apologized, but on certain days, he was certain his head still rang from the blow she’d landed on him.
His head was ringing now as he stared at her, and he decided maybe it was the storm. “This won’t be the first goony thing you’ve talked me into, Mimi.”
“And it may not be the last. But I promise you this is a guaranteed winner of an idea. You couldn’t do any better if you were betting on a champion thoroughbred on race day.” She smiled at him. “Press Send, Mason. Help will be on the way before you know it.”
It had fallen to Mason as the eldest to rear the unholy bunch of brothers—and lately the situation was about out of control. Frisco was surly. Fannin was talking crazy about packing up and heading out to find out whatever happened to their dad, Maverick, who’d been gone since Mason had turned eighteen nearly twenty years ago. Laredo had mentioned he was thinking about moving east to ease his wandering feet, while his twin, Tex, was cross-pollinating roses with the contentment of an early settler. Calhoun had been eyeing riding the rodeo circuit. Ranger had briefly mentioned enlisting, while his twin, Archer, had taken to writing poetry to a lady pen pal in Australia. Crockett was painting pictures of nudes—from memory, as best as Mason could tell—and his twin, Navarro, was considering going with Calhoun on the rodeo circuit, which would mean the wild boys wreaking havoc on themselves and every female within eyesight. Bandera hadn’t slept in a week and was spouting poetry like Whitman, and Last, well, Last was bugging Mason about when they were going to get some womenfolk and children at the ranch. Lord only knew, with the way Last adored women—and they returned his affection—it was a wonder there wasn’t a small city’s-worth of children at the ranch already.
Something had to be done. The weight of responsibility bore down on Mason, urging him to stay at the helm and not jump ship the way Maverick had. Mason was the father figure, the decision-maker, the authoritarian.
Only with the woman sitting next to him did he relax from the pressure of his life. She gave him other things to go crazy about, giving him a break from thinking about his family’s problems. If he was the captain of the Jefferson ship, she was the storm breaking over his bow, threatening to send him to unknown destinations—and sometimes, her storm seemed safer than the fraternal quicksand under his feet.
He always felt on the edge with Mimi, Mason acknowledged, as he reached out slowly toward the keyboard. Frankly, she scared him just a little, always had. There’d been stitches in his head when he’d fallen from a tree she could climb better than him; there’d been a scolding from his dad when she’d skipped school and he’d gone looking for her. More times than he could count, he’d gone along with the schemes she conjured—and he’d always rued them. Every time, he thought, but like a piper’s music calling to him, he could not resist Mimi’s sense of fun and lightheartedness. His finger trembling, knowing there’d be hell to pay for listening to her, he hesitantly reached out to touch the send key.
Fierce lightning burst over the house, cracking as if it was striking the old stone chimney. Mimi screamed and grabbed for Mason, flattening his hand against the keyboard. Message Sent flashed briefly on the screen as the computer died and the electricity went out, but Mason didn’t notice. It felt so good to have Mimi in his arms—under cover of safe, secure darkness—that he just grinned to himself and held her tight.
Chapter One
Home is what a man feels in his heart
—Maverick Jefferson to his second son, Frisco, when Frisco had boyhood nightmares that the ranch might blow away like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz
“I want you to get your butt over here right now and fix this problem,” Frisco Joe Jefferson said to his older brother, close to cursing before deciding the heck with keeping his anger to himself. He had a crisis on his hands, and Mason could darn well share the misery. “Damn it, Mason, these women say you put up an advertisement for a housekeeper. If you did, then I suggest you come pick one out.”
A moment passed as Frisco listened. Furious, he hung up the phone, turning to stare at his ten younger brothers, all of whom were close to the window in the kitchen of the main house so they could spy on the approximately twenty women gathered shivering on the front lawn. The women were all shapes and sizes, all races, all ages. Luggage dotted the frozen grass. Frisco, as eldest during Mason’s absence, was supposed to be in command. “Mason said to call Mimi.”
“Typical,” Bandera said. “What’s Mimi supposed to do about it?”
Frisco shook his head. “Unless she can make all those ladies disappear, I’m not sure.”
“I’d hate for all of them to disappear,” Fannin said, his gaze longing. “Most of them are pretty cute.”
“And one of them has a baby,” Last said. “I’ll take that one.”
“We’re not taking any of them,” Frisco said with quiet determination. From the window, he could see Shoeshine Johnson’s school bus rumbling back to the bus depot after depositing his travelers. “I’m calling Mimi.”
The brothers went back to their surreptitious peering through the window while Frisco dialed Mimi Cannady’s number.
“Mimi,” Frisco said abruptly when she answered, “I need your help.”
“Uh-uh,” she responded automatically. “No. I told Mason before he left on this two-week business trip that I unequivocally could not be responsible for his responsibilities. It takes up too much time, Frisco. I have my dad to think about.”
What bull-malarkey. Sheriff Cannady was as fit as an untried rodeo rider. So what Mimi had told Mason, then, was best put as “Wake up, buddy. I’m not just the girl next door. I’ve got a life of my own, and I’m not content to be treated like a convenience anymore.”
He sighed, unable to blame Mimi. “Listen, Mimi. I certainly understand how you feel. Mason just seemed to think you might be best able to pick through the housekeepers, in order to choose one he might like. He mentioned you helped him write the advertisement. I’ve got to admit, the rest of us are in the dark about what you two were thinking.”
“Housekeepers?” Mimi echoed, clearly dumbfounded, much as Mason had been. Mason had sounded as if he hadn’t known what Frisco was talking about—initially.
“I guess they’re wanting to be housekeepers,” he said. “There’s about twenty of them out front. It seems as if they came together.”
“Oh, my stars,” Mimi breathed. “Twenty?”
“I’m just estimating. Did you send out an ad for a housekeeper? Because I gotta be honest with you, the rest of us don’t think we need woman help on the ranch.”
“Woman help,” Mimi murmured. She fully remembered writing that ad with Mason. She’d typed the e-mail address to her friend at the Honey-Do Agency. But Julia would have called her before sending out applicants to the ranch, and she would never have sent twenty. Twenty!
Something was wrong. “I did type an ad for Mason, but we never sent it. That bad storm came, the one that toppled the old oak tree, and the lights went out—” She blushed, remembering clutching Mason and loving the feel of his muscles beneath his crisp denim shirt, and the smell of him, and the sound of his heart