Loving A Lonesome Cowboy. Debbi Rawlins
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his boss…” A strange look crossed his face. “Never mind.”
She wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. She’d received the same reactions in town. First there was the look of alarm, which turned guarded then blank. The only thing missing in Sam’s reaction was the trace of pity she’d seen in everyone else’s eyes. If anything, Sam looked protective.
He started to leave again, stopped and said, “If you’re worried about his character, you won’t find a more honorable or loyal man. Anyone in town will confirm that.” He gave her a brief smile, touched the rim of his hat, then sauntered off without looking back.
Sara leaned against the doorjamb, trying to temper her curiosity. She told herself it was valid to be inquisitive about her employer, especially since she was scheming to stretch two days into two weeks. But she knew better. There was more to her curiosity than making sure he wasn’t Jack the Ripper.
Something about him drew her, stirred an instinct to reach out and help in some way she couldn’t fathom. It was a dangerous impulse. One that had already landed her in a hellish marriage. She shuddered at the thought, then ruthlessly pushed it aside, and plunged her hands in some warm soapy water.
Tonight she’d give the kitchen a cursory cleaning, enough to at least make it sanitary. Tomorrow, after the bedrooms were in top shape she’d—A burst of melodic chimes gave her such a start she splashed water down the front of her shirt and on her sneakers. It took her a second to realize it was the doorbell. She shook the water from her hands then dried them on a rag on the way to the front door.
Misty sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Mom?”
“It’s all right, honey.” Sara gave her a reassuring smile, then went to the window and inched back the drapes. She had only a partial view of the front porch, but she couldn’t see anyone.
It couldn’t be Sam. He wouldn’t come around to the front door when he knew she was in the kitchen. It was probably Ethan. But he had a key. Though he probably wouldn’t use it out of respect for their privacy.
With her hand on the knob, she called, “Who is it?”
No answer.
Her pulse and curiosity both going berserk, she opened the door a crack. No one was there. Her gaze drew to a brown wicker basket sitting on the porch. It held a bundle wrapped in a large red-checked napkin.
She stepped outside and stooped down for a look. Under clear plastic wrap was a roasted chicken, biscuits and cole slaw. Her gaze snapped up, but still she saw no one. Was this from Sam? But why not hand it to her?
Stepping off the porch and into the yard, she squinted toward the bunkhouse—and caught a glimpse of Ethan’s blue pickup as it fishtailed in a cloud of dust down the gravel drive.
SAM SWUNG the saddle off Thunder, used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow, then watched Ethan approach. His friend didn’t come to the ranch much. Sam figured he could count on one hand the number of times Ethan had been here in the past six years. He hoped this was a good sign. It wasn’t right for a man to isolate himself the way Ethan did. Too much grief and sadness had a way of keeping a man from being whole.
“Hey, Ethan, I got your message late yesterday. I was riding the north pasture. Looks like we’ve got two miles of fence-mending ahead of us.”
Ethan stopped and stroked Thunder’s neck. The soft-eyed gelding pushed his face forward for Ethan to rub. “Have you seen her?”
Taken aback by the question, Sam tried not to show any reaction. He’d expected a comment about the fence-mending. “Sara? Yeah, I went over and introduced myself. Pretty little thing.”
Ethan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. As long as she gets the job done.”
Hope swelled in Sam’s chest. The hell it didn’t matter. He saw the flicker of life in his friend’s eyes. “Where’d you find her?”
“An ad on Manny’s bulletin board.”
“Good timing. When do the girls get here?”
“Tomorrow.”
Sam straightened. “Tomorrow?” He lifted his hat off his head, and mopped his forehead. “Tomorrow.” He grunted. “Isn’t that just like Jenny? No notice. No consideration.”
“She calls herself Jenna now.”
“Tough.”
Ethan smiled.
Sam looked away. He’d grown up with Ethan and his little sister. Only, the last time Jenny’d visited she wasn’t so little anymore, and her childhood crush on him hadn’t seemed so silly.
“I need a favor,” Ethan said. “Can you spare one of your men?”
Glad to have his thoughts pulled away from Jenny, Sam studied his friend. Normally he would have automatically said sure, or you’re the boss, but something told him to hold back. “What for?”
“To help Sara.”
“Clean?”
Ethan shook his head. “Mostly do the lifting.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
The flash of fear in Ethan’s eyes was like a ray of sunshine to Sam. “I’m busy,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “You just said we have fence that needs mending.”
“Not right away.”
“What about Bobby? Can’t you spare him?”
Sam massaged the back of his neck, frowning, in a show of concern. “I already gave him time off to go see his folks up in Albuquerque for the holidays.”
“And Gus? What about him?”
“He’s driving a herd to South Fork.”
Ethan rattled off a few more names. Sam made more excuses.
Ethan exhaled, long and slow. “You’ve got to have somebody.”
“Nope. Afraid I don’t.” The more panicked Ethan looked, the better it made Sam feel. It was good to see some life in his friend again. Damn good. “Unless…”
“Yeah?” Impatience and hope animated Ethan’s face.
Sam shrugged. “I suppose I could give her a hand. Maybe she’ll be grateful and have dinner with me.” He winked, then hid a smile at Ethan’s sudden frown.
“I thought you were busy.”
Sam shrugged again. “Shouldn’t take long. Anyway, I sure wouldn’t mind her company.”
Ethan silently stroked Thunder’s neck, his brows furrowed in thought. Finally, he sighed. A put-upon sigh. For Sam’s benefit, no doubt. “You’re right. Shouldn’t take long. Guess I can handle it.”
“You sure?” Sam kept a straight face. “I don’t mind.”
Ethan flexed a shoulder, a nervous habit he’d had since they were kids. “Nah, I can manage.”
Sam turned to his bucket of grooming supplies and busied himself with finding a brush before he started grinning like a village idiot. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thanks.” Ethan sighed again. “I’d better get to the house and see if she needs me.”
Sam nodded, but didn’t look up until his friend’s scuffed boots were headed away from the stables and toward the house. He watched his retreating form, noticing the new life to Ethan’s step, and a lump swelled in Sam’s throat. It was so damn good to see traces of the old Ethan. God bless Sara Conroy. Sam hoped she did need Ethan. As much as Ethan needed her.
TEN MINUTES LATER, Ethan stood on the front porch of the house to which he’d sworn he’d never return and pressed the doorbell button. If he had half a brain in his head he would’ve let Sam deal with Sara. But that wasn’t right. Sam