Hill Country Homecoming Page 8

  He’d help find Sarah Mansfield a good mate the old man would be proud to call his son-in-law. After all, his true loyalties lay with his boss as long as he existed on this earth. Maybe Cook knew who Mr. M would consider worthy of his daughter’s hand. She’d been with the family forever. He often confided in her.

  Travis realized he needed to cut bait when it came to any thoughts he had about Ms. Sarah Jeanette Mansfield, heiress to the Bar-M dynasty. Now, to convince his heart of that fact.

  * * *

  Later that evening, a tap sounded on the den’s door jamb. Sarah looked up from the paperwork splayed across her father’s massive mahogany desk. Through the dim light provided by the fire crackling in the hearth, she recognized Travis’ silhouette. “Good. Come in. We have to get through this inventory tonight. And the bills are piling up again, and…”

  He hesitated on the threshold. “Sarah, can I be honest? I am sore from head to toe and chilled from being out in that weather all afternoon. Haven’t even had my supper yet. Can we lay low for tonight?” He wandered to the fireplace and raised his hands to capture the warmth of the logs.

  She slapped her pencil down. “You think I’m not tired? Unlike me, I thought you’d be used to hard work.”

  Travis shifted his stance and narrowed his eyes. He jutted his thumb towards the window. “Nobody gets used to conditions like this. It’s bone cold and the wind is still howling at over thirty-five miles per hour. You can’t rush, either, because the ice is almost two inches thick most places. Every three steps you slide.” He sat on the chair that angled to the mantle and pulled off his boots. “My toes are near frozen.”

  She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Would you do that in the presence of my daddy?”

  He scoffed. “He’d have told me five minutes ago to do this. That’s the kind of caring boss he is.”

  Sarah bolted from her chair and stood over him, hands jammed to her hips. “And I’m not. That’s what you’re implying?”

  He huffed and sat back. “Come on, Sarah. We all appreciate your efforts. Honest. But…” He lifted his arms wide to encompass the room. “You can’t learn how to run a large ranch such as this in a few weeks.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I have no choice.”

  He stood and gripped her arms. “You do. Go back to Dallas. Make things right with Tucker or woo one of the sons of your daddy’s friends. Mucking stalls in ice storms is not for you, lady.”

  “Excuse me?”

  His eyes gleamed in the flicker of the flames as he focused on her face. “You’ve made a gallant effort, I’ll grant you that. But you are more comfortable in satin than jeans. You are not cut out for this life, and you know it.”

  Heat filled her face. She shoved his hands away. “You’re wrong, Mr. Wallace. I told you at lunch. My place is here. I’ll prove all of you wrong.”

  He scoffed. “Look. Give it up, okay? What happened to your father is not your fault, Sarah. It’s his because of his lifestyle, and the fact he isn’t a young man anymore. Not to mention his stubbornness. Which by the way, you seem to have inherited in spades.”

  “How dare you talk to me like that?” Before she realized it her hand had made contact with his cheek. The smack echoed throughout the room.

  He reeled back, his hand to his jaw.

  She recoiled. “I’m so sorry.”

  Time stopped. She stared into his eyes and he into hers. Suddenly, Travis grabbed her by the elbows, drew her to him, and planted his lips hard on hers. Then he lifted his face from hers and hissed. “Not as much as I am, lady.”

  He pushed off from her closeness and stomped from the room in his sock feet.

  Sarah rubbed the taste of his mouth from her lips as the shock of his intimacy coursed through her body. Of all the inappropriate, insubordinate actions. Anger and embarrassment bubbled inside her. She picked up his boots, walked to the door, and tossed them into the foyer. They slid across the floor and landed at the foot of the staircase.

  He turned at the sound, his eyebrows knitted.

  She pointed her forefinger at him. “You’re fired. I expect you to pack your things and be out of here first thing tomorrow.” Before he could react, she slammed the den door and clomped back to the fire. Shaking, she slithered into the chair and buried her face in her knees.

  What just happened? Was Travis right? She wasn’t cut out for this life. Who was she fooling?

  The enormity of her father’s shoes overwhelmed her as she crouched in his den, his kingdom. Immediately, she wanted his strong arms around her to comfort her and tell her he was proud of her and had confidence in her. But he lay in a hospital bed only half aware of his own existence, if that.

  Then honesty hit her hard. No, the embrace she wanted wasn’t from her father. She was a grown woman. She ached to be in Travis’ arms with his mouth caressing hers.

  She stared into the flames as tears streamed over her cheeks. She ran her tongue over her lips and sighed, reliving that intimacy in her mind. Tucker had never, ever kissed her with that much passion. Her heart still thumped from it, even though it now tore in two.

  How stupid she’d been. But he’d ruffled her pride. And now, she’d bruised his.

  “Oh, dear Lord. What have I done?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Travis scowled as he snatched his boots and sat on the bottom rung of the stairs. His heart pounded in his ears and his breathing became shallow with anger. “Dang that woman.”

  He heard a slow whistle and noticed Cook standing there. He’d forgotten the ice had stranded her from returning to her home at the edge of the ranch two miles to the west. She still resided where she’d been raised. Her father had been one of the wranglers, as had her late husband.

  “You two have a row, huh? I knew sparks were a flyin’, but not that kind.”

  Travis stared her down. “Promise me you’ll persuade her to change her mind. She isn’t cut out for this. It’ll fall down around her ears.” He stood and brushed off his jeans.

  “You ain’t leaving, are you?”

  He nodded towards the closed door. “You heard her. She just canned my hide.”

  Cook rested her large black hand on his arm. “Son, come on into the kitchen. I’ll fix ya some hot cocoa. We’s need to have a long chat about this ranch and women in general.”

  She may as well tugged his ear like a truant school boy. Still seething, he bit his tongue and followed her to the back of the house into the warmth from the stove and away from the chill of the boss’s daughter.

  “You sit while I heat up the milk. Think on what happened, then we’ll talk.”

  He scooted into the chair. “Simple. We argued. I kissed her. She slapped me.”

  Cook dropped her spoon. “Say what? The girl’s taken, Travis.”

  He scratched his brow. “Not anymore. She sent the ring back to Tucker via an overnight carrier.”

  “When?”

  “Not too long ago. Seems they don’t see eye to eye on her being here.”

  “Uh-huh. Any fool could see that one comin’.” She turned back to the stove. “But her determination to stay here and be a part of this ranch, no one predicted. Not even her papa.” She swiveled back and waggled the spoon at him. “You got to give her credit for that.”

  “I suppose.” He crossed his hands over his chest and tucked his thumbs in his armpits. “But it is not out of loyalty. She feels guilty. Thinks she caused his strokes.”

  “Humph. You aren’t giving her any slack, are you?”

  “Not now, I’m not. Let’s see if she can run this place. I wish her luck.” He gave off a snort.

  Silence cloaked the room except for the muffled clank of the spoon as Cook stirred the hot chocolate in the saucepan.

  She shuffled to the table with his mug and set it on the mat before him. Then she slid into the chair across from him. As he raised the steaming drink to his lips, she replied. “So when did yo’ finally figure out you was in love with her?”

  Cocoa spewed from h
is mouth across the kitchen table. He wiped his lips and rose. “Don’t be an idiot, Cook. She is the furthest thing from my type.”

  “You sure about that, now?”

  He pushed the chair under the table and left, slamming the door behind him.

  * * *

  Sarah paced the floor of her bedroom. In the morning, she’d apologize and ask him to stay. But she’d make it clear his actions were inappropriate. With all she had on her mind, falling in love couldn’t be one of them.

  She heard the door of a truck shut with force. Who would be leaving now, with ice still thick as Cook’s pancakes? She pulled back her bedroom curtains to peek out without being detected and craned her head to the right. Travis hoisted his suitcase and boxes out of the bunkhouse and deposited them with a thud in the bed of his vehicle. With each thunk, her shoulders cringed. She’d never seen him angry, but his body language screamed it. She eased open the sash, despite the chilled air, to catch tidbits of his conversation with Manny and Adam.

  “Surely she was kidding, man? She can’t fire you.”

  He huffed his saddle over the tire well. “Yeah, well, that’s exactly what the spoiled-rotten little she-devil did.” He kicked the back tire with his boot and jammed his hands onto the rim of the pick-up. His head hung low.

  Adam laid a hand on his upper back. “Surely Mr. Mansfield—”

  Travis rose up and spun on his heel. “He’s not with it enough to know.” He jammed his thumb towards her bedroom window on the second floor. Sarah stepped back further into the shadows. “She’s in charge, now. And this ranch will go down the sewer before summer. I’d start looking elsewhere for jobs, if I were you. Good luck.”

  He rounded the bumper, jumped into the driver’s side, and peeled out, fishtailing on the icy surface as he picked up speed.

  “Of all the nerve,” she hissed under her breath. “So he thinks I’m a she-devil, huh?”

  She’d been wrong. Travis Wallace was not indispensable. Adam, George, Jake, and Manny knew enough about this running this place. What they didn’t, she’d figure out. She possessed a brain. After all, she did graduate with honors. Plus, she’d secretly enrolled in online courses in basic animal husbandry and business accounting in January. Already, she’d learned a great deal, and not all from him. Just who did Mr. Righteous think he was?

  She picked up Max and tossed him across the room, then regretted her actions as his fluffy body slid down the wall into a heap. She grabbed the teddy bear and brushed him off, then clutched him to her as the angry sobs erupted from her throat. “I’ll show you, Travis Wallace. I’ll show them all. This ranch will thrive. So help me, God, it will.”

  She stomped to the window, slammed it shut, and addressed taillights disappearing down the oak-lined road bathed in white moonlight. “Good riddance.”

  But a hollowness in her gut remained. The silence engulfed her. She thought back to the hours the two of them huddled over paperwork. Their laughter and good-hearted pokes as they both tried to learn how to balance the books. His quiet steadiness acting as her rudder through this storm. His down-to-earth wisdom and deep faith. And the manliness that oozed from his pores into her heart. Why had she let him into it?

  Maybe she was just lonely and hurt over Tucker’s rejection. Travis became her unlikely target for comfort and affection, and she’d sent him the wrong signals. She was used to catching men’s eyes. She’d been bred for it. Not his fault he’d succumbed to her charms. He was, after all, a guy.

  But she’d also been bred for life on a ranch. This ranch. The dynasty Travis helped run like a well-oiled machine. She crawled beneath her covers and whimpered to the ceiling. “Lord, please. How in the world am I going to pull this off without him?” Tears flowed down her cheeks for a few minutes. Then she shut off the drama. “Okay, God. I refuse to wallow in this indulgence anymore. It isn’t doing any good.”

  She wiped the streaks from her face with a new resolve. “Never again. I will not cry anymore. I will make this work. I am smart, I am young, and I have resources. I may get bucked off a time or two, but I will tame this beast. And I don’t need a man to do it for me. Especially not Travis ‘Mr. Righteous’ Wallace.”

  She flopped over, punched her pillow and closed her eyes. But sleep wouldn’t seep into her psyche. Sarah spent most of the night staring at the underside of her canopy and listening to the wind bristle the iced-over limbs as they scraped the roof. Her brain whirled as it began to compartmentalize her to-do lists and prioritize her chores. When she gave up on the sandman and grabbed her laptop, the digits on the lower right of her monitor read 2:24 a.m.

  Sarah clicked the keyboard in frantic determination, spread-sheeting her plan of action. She’d map out the expenses for the past five years and check the pattern. By that, she could determine a great deal. The computer would help her analyze when to order feed, when the deworming and inoculations would begin, and even when Cook ran out of pancake flour. Yeah, she could do this. Welcome to the twenty-first century, Bar-M.

  * * *

  Four hours later, she shuffled into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Cook tapped her size nines. “You is stupid, girl. You know that?”

  She crooked a finger at her employee’s nose. “Do not ever call me that again or you’ll be the next to leave. I will not tolerate insubordination.”

  Cook scoffed. She poured a mugful and handed it to her. “There is one thing you never learned from your daddy, Sarah. You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. These folk have worked their tails off for him because he respected them and cared about them. He also allowed any of us to speak our mind and valued our input.”

  Sarah plopped onto the stool and blew on her cup. “Bet none of them ever pulled him to them and kissed him on the mouth.”

  The older woman clucked her tongue. “Well, that done be the truth. But still, Miss Sarah—”

  “I think Daddy would support me in this decision, and I honestly don’t care if you do or not.” She took a sip and rose. “I’m getting dressed and heading to the bunkhouse to put out the smoldering embers of disbelief and discontent. When I return, will you have scrambled eggs, cinnamon toast, and bacon ready for me, as well as for Adam, Manny, and George? I want to have a breakfast meeting around the dining room table.”

  “Yes, Miss Sarah.”

  She turned to leave. Then she halted at the threshold. “Oh, and lots of coffee. Still icy and bitter out there.” She raised her mug in salute and stretched her mouth into a sugary smile. “Thank you, Cook. I know it’s a lot to ask on short notice. But I have all the confidence in the world you can pull it off.”

  She heard the woman harrumph, but no verbal response was uttered other than a “Yes’m.”

  Sarah walked out in triumph. Yeah, she could do this.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Travis crawled at a snail’s pace over the icy roads, losing traction several times on the hills. It only spurred his determination to put as many miles as he could between him and the ranch—and away from her. He finally arrived at his parents at two in the morning. He snuck in the house, patting Buster on the head.

  His legs could have passed for giant popsicles. He couldn’t feel his toes when he removed his ice-coated boots. Travis snatched his mother’s crocheted afghan from the arm of the sofa and wrapped himself in it. The Labrador retriever dutifully plopped onto his feet to warm them. He leaned down. “Good dog.” He yawned as he eased his spine into the back cushions. Within a few minutes, exhaustion took over, his brain shut down, and his eyes closed.

  His father’s morning hacking routine woke him four hours later. Years of tobacco had played havoc with the old man’s lungs. As he peeked through half-shut eyelids, he deciphered a familiar plaid robe hovering over him. “Morning, Dad.”

  “To what do we owe this surprise?” His dad coughed again, raising his hand for Travis to wait until the episode passed before he answered. At last, spent and gasping for air, the old man edged into his recliner. From the kitchen, Travis de
tected the beginning grunts and gurgles of the old percolator mixed with his mother’s humming.

  Travis rose from the couch and gently squeezed his dad’s left shoulder. “I’ll explain everything to you both over breakfast. I’m gonna go help Mom.”

  He sauntered into the kitchen. “Hi, Mom.”

  The woman spun around, her arms opening wide, fingers beckoning him for a hug. Her teary smile caused a warmth to spread through his chest cavity, and he suddenly felt four years old again. He wanted to melt into her motherly embrace and have her rock him.

  Travis drew her to him, shocked anew by the fragile boniness of her body. His heart plummeted into his gut. He eased her to one of the kitchen chairs, aware how their roles of parent-child now reversed. They needed him to care for them. Time to step up to the plate. Perhaps this new turn of events fit into God’s plan for his life. Travis hoped so. He needed to cling to that optimism.

  “Land’s sake, son. You surprised me. Now, what brings you to our neck of the woods. You didn’t drive in that ice storm did you?”

  “No, I headed out after it died down, Mom. You didn’t raise a fool.” He winked, which caused the pink in her wrinkled cheeks to brighten.

  His father’s footsteps shuffled across the worn linoleum.

  Travis motioned for them to both sit. He took the mugs from the hooks under the cabinet and set them before the elderly couple. Then he grabbed the pot of coffee and poured the aromatic, dark liquid to the rims. “I’m here to stay, folks. I’ll be moving back into my old room. Mr. Mansfield’s daughter and I just don’t see eye to eye.” His gaze dashed between their perplexed faces, shoving the knife deeper into his soul.

  “What on earth happened?”

  Instead of responding, he shrugged, poured himself a mug-full, and took a sip. The two stared at him, wanting reassurance. He winked. “It’s all gonna be fine, y’all. Plenty of ranches ’round here can use me. Plus, I want to be closer to y’all. I’ve worked long enough for someone else. ’Bout time I pulled my weight around here.”