Marrying The Rancher. Roz Denny Fox
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“They might,” he said, trudging down the hall. “Didn’t you see? The bad man had a gun.”
She hadn’t noticed. She worried that Scotty had heard too much violent war-talk, living with an uncle in the navy, as well as his dad and herself.
She headed to the kitchen and in about forty minutes the meal was ready. But she hadn’t taken time to clean up. She still felt grungy from a full day of herding strays out of canyons. Oh, well, she’d shower before bed.
“Scotty, come eat. The garlic bread is due out in a minute.”
She heard him leave his room just as the doorbell rang.
“I’ll answer the door, Mama.”
“Okay. It’s probably Manny. Tell him I’ll fix that plate, or better, he should come eat with us.” She tore off a piece of foil to cover the dish if he didn’t elect to stay. He’d said often the hired help shouldn’t eat with the boss. Silly as it sounded to her, apparently he’d been that way until her father got sick and needed assistance preparing his meals.
The oven timer dinged. She slipped on oven mitts to remove the casserole dish and the hot bread.
From the other room a male voice she didn’t recognize said, “Hi there, young man. I’m here to pick up a key to one of the casitas from Ms. Graham. Is that your mother?”
“Are you the wolf man?” Scotty exclaimed, his tone filled with awe. “Mama’s in the kitchen putting pa’sketti on the table. It’s super yummy. Come on in and eat with us.”
Tandy almost dropped the bread. In the middle of finding a place to set the hot item she heard the man laugh. It was a deep rumble that reminded her of how disheveled she looked. Her free hand flew to smooth down her hair. Not wanting her first meeting with her renter to put her at a disadvantage for wearing grubby jeans and a sauce-spattered work shirt, she called to Scotty. “His house key is on the end table beside the lamp.”
Before she could add that the casita was stocked and ready, she heard their new tenant saying how the food certainly smelled good.
Considering the lateness of the hour, the poor man had probably been traveling through the fog instead of stopping to eat. Having a change of heart for someone who’d been a friend to her dad, she stepped to the arch and almost fell over Mr. Bones. “Scotty, show him where to wash up. I’ll set another plate.”
Tandy rushed back and set out another place setting. She was tearing off extra paper towel for napkins when her son, jabbering a mile a minute, dragged their guest into the kitchen. Glancing up, a welcoming smile froze on her lips, and the paper towel fluttered from her hand. She and the newcomer both grabbed for it, causing their hands to connect. The strength in his fingers sent shock waves rippling up Tandy’s arm. She quickly withdrew, leaving him to catch the towel before it hit the floor.
Wyatt Hunt was nothing like she’d presumed. For one thing, he was a lot younger. And gosh, he was tall. Over six feet, she judged. Wide shouldered and narrow hipped, he wore cowboy garb as if it’d been tailor-made to fit his muscular frame. His dark blond hair showed a stubborn curl. When he smiled down at Scotty, a dimple flashed in his left cheek.
His good looks sent Tandy’s heart thudding like a jungle drum. She felt even more rattled when considering again how crappy she must look.
But the unexpected weakness that attacked her knees annoyed her. Good grief, she’d worked with, and had outranked, more handsome men than him. What was wrong with her? “Sorry to stare, but I’d assumed from conversations with Dad that you were his age,” she blurted even as her son urged the man to sit in the chair beside him. “He never actually mentioned your age during our phone calls, but it was an impression he gave in how he talked about views you two shared.”
“Curt and I hit it off, but he was what...sixtyish? Twice my age. Is this where you’d like me to sit?” he asked Tandy, pointing to the chair Scotty kept urging him toward. “Are you sure I’m not putting you out?”
“Oh, no. I feel as if I know you. You were so good to Dad. Scotty, let him fill his plate first. I’m going to take this one over to Manny. His arthritis is acting up,” she told Wyatt, who also knew the other man.
“Ask him if there’s anything I can do to help,” Wyatt said after sitting down. “Carry in wood for his fireplace or something. Or if you’d like, I’ll take him the plate.” He started to rise again.
“That’s not necessary.” Tandy deftly covered the plate with foil. “I’ll ask about the wood. You two tear off bread slices while it’s hot.”
She dashed out and was gone only a few minutes. Returning, pretty much out of breath, she scooted around the narrow table and took a seat directly across from their guest. When her knees bumped Wyatt’s, he didn’t seem to notice.
“How is Manny doing? I’m sorry his joints aren’t any better than they were during the roundup I helped him with last year.”
“He appreciated the food and your offer. He swears he’s better, though, and will ride with us tomorrow,” Tandy said, putting a scoop of spaghetti on Scotty’s plate.
“All of this looks so good.” Wyatt eyed the offerings as if it was a feast.
“Uh, help yourself.” Tandy scooted the casserole dish toward him. She took a deep and deliberate breath before serving up salad for her son. And she followed that with a squirt of dressing for the boy, who continued to gaze rapturously at their unplanned guest as if he’d never shared a supper table with a grown man before. It probably had been a while, Tandy thought.
“I’m not the greatest cook,” she mumbled, then didn’t know why she had felt a need to say anything.
Wyatt glanced up from his full plate and smiled at her. “You could’ve fooled me. I’ve only had a taste, but spaghetti is a favorite of mine, and garlic bread hits the spot.”
Scotty beamed. “Mama fixed it ’cause it’s my favorite next to pizza, which she can’t make,” he added.
Tandy filled her plate. “Knowing Dad, he probably told you I went into the army after college. There we always had cooks or ate MREs. I hoped I’d have more time to spend with cookbooks after moving back here. Turns out I have a lot to learn about raising cattle. Maybe things won’t be so hectic after we acquire a full herd.”
“It’s a shame we had to sell all of Curt’s cattle after he passed so suddenly. I grew up in cattle country, so I know herds build slowly.”
“I’ve bought a decent amount of heifers. Manny’s looking for a bull to round out my stock. So far, no luck.” She frowned and rolled noodles around her fork. “After the stockmen’s meeting last night, it’s a toss-up whether anyone will sell me anything. Are you aware local ranchers are unhappy with me for renting you a casita?”
“I’m sorry. I might’ve guessed, considering how many reacted poorly when we began this project.” The man shred his bread. “I’ll make other arrangements and move elsewhere. No sense in you taking flak.”
“You can’t go away.” Scotty stopped eating. “There was a bad man at the meeting who yelled at my mom. He’s scary. I’m glad you aren’t old like Manny ’cause you can punch him if he acts mean again.”
“Scotty.” Tandy shook her head. “No one’s going to punch Mr. Hicks. Fighting isn’t how we solve our differences.”
“But Auntie Lucinda said...” Whatever he’d been about to say withered under his mother’s stern glare.
Wyatt gazed briefly at the upset boy before returning his attention to Tandy. “Often it only takes one disgruntled person to stir up mob mentality. Area ranchers have all been informed that our agency will pay double for any cattle they can prove our wolf pack brought down. I don’t like hearing they’re still so upset. To date we haven’t had a single confirmed incident.”
“Dad