Rancher's Refuge. Линда Гуднайт
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Yet the silence made her jittery.
Cast pressed to her side, she tried wiggling her fingers as the doctor had ordered. Her arm hurt but not as bad as she’d expected. The pain pill she’d taken had started to make her sleepy.
From the kitchen she caught the rise and fall of voices. Male and female. Austin Blackwell didn’t like her but he’d helped her. She didn’t understand him. But then, she clearly didn’t understand men in general.
Though tempted, she didn’t listen in on their conversation again. Tomorrow she’d figure out what to do. One thing for certain, she could not go back to California. At least not for a while. She couldn’t go home to Kansas, either. Not until she was strong enough, brave enough, healthy enough to face her regrets and start over alone.
A knot of longing filled her with an ache greater than the one in her arm.
Fresh from an awkward, one-handed bath, she lay down on the fluffy pillow, remembering her conversation at the doctor’s office. Dr. Ron had said people prayed beneath the falls expecting an answer. Was that true? Did God work that way?
She thought again of the thunderous waterfall and her whispered, desperate prayer for help, for change, for some intangible she knew was missing in her life.
Had God been listening?
As she fell asleep, she prayed again, hoping with all her heart that the story was true.
* * *
The next morning, inside the warm confines of the barn and surrounded by dust motes and the welcome smell of green hay, Austin unsaddled his horse. Hoss, the shepherd, and Jet, the graying black lab, flopped in the sunshine just inside the entryway, tongues wagging. The prissy poodle was probably still curled up in her blanket on Cassie’s bed.
Austin and the two real dogs, as he called them, had been up since six riding the ridge and woods, checking fence and searching for a stray calf that didn’t want to be found. He’d also been searching for Annalisa’s missing handbag. He’d found neither.
Blue-and-rust swallows fluttered against the rafters, chattering their squeaky song like a dozen annoyed chipmunks. A feather floated down from above. Cisco snorted and jostled to one side. Austin rubbed a soothing hand down the horse’s withers and welcomed the animal warmth. Even in his jacket, he was chilled this fall morning.
He was chilled in his soul, too. Having a woman of questionable circumstance under his roof made him nervous. He’d laid awake half the night wondering about her.
The morning ride, though, had been beautiful. He’d seen deer and coyotes and turkey and a sunrise that had made him stop on the high ridge and watch as a navy blue sky gave way to pink and gold and flame.
Still, it had been a wasted three hours.
Dogs circling his legs, Austin led the horse from the barn into the corralled lot and turned him loose. The other horses lifted their muzzles, winding their friend. Cisco moseyed away to stick his regal head in the feeder and have breakfast.
Austin’s belly rumbled in response. He was ready for breakfast, too, his single cup of coffee a distant memory.
He crossed the backyard and stepped on the porch. A bacon scent greeted him as he opened the door into the kitchen. He paused, confused for a second. Cassie left for work at eight and besides, she never cooked breakfast—or anything else for that matter.
Annalisa, a spatula in her good hand, stood at the cook stove frying bacon. Tootsie sat at her feet, fuzzy peach face upturned in eager anticipation. At his entrance, Annalisa glanced over one shoulder. Austin’s stomach went south.
Hunger could do that to a man, he thought, annoyed that the reaction might be anything else.
“What are you doing?” She was a guest. A hurt guest. She shouldn’t be cooking.
Her smile was tentative—pretty, though, in the way it lifted beneath her cheekbones and pushed up the corners of her long, mysterious eyes. She’d carefully draped her hair around the edge of her face, but he still saw the shadow of a bruise from temple to cheek. Saw it and tensed.
“I noticed the bacon on the counter and thought...” The blue eyes skittered from him to the frying pan. “I don’t know. Maybe Cassie put it there.”
“Cassie doesn’t cook.” He’d laid the meat out to thaw, expecting to fry his own breakfast.
Her gaze snapped back to his. “I figured out that much for myself. Are you hungry? This is almost done.”
Austin shifted on his boots. The situation was awkward to say the least. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing anyone all day and that’s the way he liked it. Conversation at nine in the morning was not welcome, and he was lousy at it anyway.
More than that, Annalisa made him uncomfortable, made him fight some irrational inner desire to go out on a limb. To do something stupid.
He considered denying his hunger and going back to the barn, but his belly wouldn’t let him. The smell of bacon was a siren song he never refused. Tootsie, the little beggar, agreed. He always fried an extra slice or two for her, although he’d never admit such weakness to Cassie.
“I’ll make fresh coffee.”
“Already did.” She hitched her chin toward the pot, dark with fresh brew.
Shucking his coat and hat, Austin poured a cup and sipped. “Good coffee.”
You would have thought he’d given her a ribbon at the state fair. She beamed at him over the popping bacon. “I wasn’t sure...”
She didn’t seem sure of anything much. Just like him, he thought wryly.
He set his cup aside to pull a carton from the fridge. Tootsie trotted over for a look.
“Eggs?”
She nodded. “How do you like yours?”
“Cooked. However you take yours is fine.” He popped four pieces of bread into the toaster.
They moved around the kitchen in tandem, a surprise to Austin because he was accustomed to being alone and doing everything for himself. The poodle frittered around their feet, staying out of the way but making sure they didn’t forget her.
In minutes, Annalisa set two filled plates on the table.
“Milk or juice?” she asked, sounding like a waitress. Her eagerness provoked a sympathetic response he didn’t want.
“Sit down and eat.” He dragged a lattice-backed chair away from the table and pointed. Annalisa sat. So did he. Tootsie plopped at their guest’s feet. Not his as usual, hers. Like Cassie, the dog had already turned traitor on him.
Fork in hand, he stared at Annalisa across the round table. “You look...better.”
She looked more than better. She looked good. Too good. Other than the shadowy bruise and the arm cast. The swelling was gone from her lip and only a small dark spot remained where her lip had bled. In a set of Cassie’s yellow salon scrubs, she looked like a flower in a sunny field, and her golden hair curved this way and that around her face just begging a man to touch.
“I slept pretty well all things considered.”
He certainly hadn’t. “How’s the arm?”
“Heavy, but not hurting.”
“You didn’t have to do this.” He waved his fork around the table. “Cook, I mean. I fend for myself.”
He leaned down with a piece of bacon to lure Tootsie to his side. She trotted over, plopped on her curly bottom and took the bacon with dainty teeth. Cassie had stuck a red bow next to the dog’s ear, a ridiculous thing that made Tootsie look sillier than usual.
“Breakfast was the least I could do to repay you. You and your sister... I don’t know what I would have done...” She clammed up, focused on her filled plate.
Austin