Chief Cook and Bottle Washer

by Rita Hestand

  Dear God! It was him! The man she ran into a couple of months ago on the road. She hoped she was wrong, but something in his pause by the fender told her she wasn't.

  "You were right, it was a water hose," he said simply slicing it with his pocket knife and trying to fit the remainder of it back in place. A trick she'd seen her brothers do a time or two. Why hadn't she remembered it? She wasn't some helpless little ninny. Had she been thinking straight she would have remembered and been on her way by now. She kicked herself mentally.

  After maneuvering about for several minutes he turned to look at her and he grinned. "Try it now."

  His smile slid over her like Jello on a hot rock, melting what little reserve Emma could muster. The man could be lethal with a smile like that. Her legs felt like butter and she wasn't sure they'd hold her, but somehow she managed to walk back to the truck. She shouldn't let any man, especially this man, affect her, but darn if she could help it. He was the kind of man that women were naturally drawn to–beyond their own will. A man's man.

  Emma's heart plummeted to the ground suddenly. Hadn't Charlie's memory punished her enough? She didn't want another man, ever. She didn't need to be kicked in the gut again. Once was enough.

  No sir, she didn't need another man. Especially another cowboy. Charlie had loved her, or so he had said. But when she'd arrived that evening after the funeral with the baby in tow, Charlie wanted no more to do with her. He didn't want any part of a ready-made family.

  She climbed back into the cab of the truck and turned the ignition. It stirred this time, but still didn't start. She no longer cared whether it did or not. She wouldn't have a job waiting at this man's ranch.

  "Probably lost most of your water." He looked around the hood at her and stopped–dead in his tracks.

  "I don't have enough in my canteen to do any good." She saw his face and stopped too.

  Lord, it was worse than she feared. His eyes made contact with the tiny figure beside her. A muscle flickered in his cheek, as his eyes fastened on Sammie Jo for the first time. His face wore a uninvited frown. He looked from the baby to her. A question hovering in the depths of those oh so blue eyes.

  "That's–a baby," his tone held accusations, coming to stand beside Emma as though he were afraid Sammie Jo might wake up and attack him.

  "Y–yes, it is." She blew a tendril of hair from her face, wondering what might happen now. So he didn't like babies either, well, that figured. What more could go wrong today. Why were babies such a threat to men. Her brothers had reacted the same way when she came home with Sammie Jo. The same way Charlie had reacted. As though an alien had invaded their home. And her father had hit the roof, insisting the child be returned to his father.

  She averted her eyes, unable to face his scrutiny. What could she say?

  From his expression Deke wasn't pleased with her or Sammie Jo at the moment. "Look, I can explain. This is Sammie Jo, my daughter."

  "Your daughter? Oh yeah, you're right, that explains everything." His incredible blue eyes landed on her now more intently. "That explains why you didn't mention a baby in the kitchen at Bertha's."

  She realized he aimed that frown straight at her, and she wasn't sure what she should do or say. He had a right to be mad. But dammit, she needed this job. Her tongue felt full of West Texas dust. She didn't need his friendship. She needed the job.

  Shrugging her shoulders, and accepting the inevitable, she answered. "I tried to explain, but you insisted we could fill in the gaps later." Emma held herself steady, her gaze holding his. She wasn't about to back down no matter what. Instead she waited.

  "Yeah, but a kid? Hell and damnation woman, why didn't you tell me you had a kid?"

  "I tried . . . back at Bertha's. But you insisted details were unimportant. Besides, what does a kid have to do with my being able to cook and clean?" Now her hands were on her hips, challenging him, her chin lifting a degree.

  He ran a hand over his face, "Yeah, I guess you did, at that. I guess I should have listened." He sighed heavily as though something was very wrong, but he didn't know what to do about it. He looked at the ground, then back at her. "So, where's the daddy?"

  The last question she expected to hear, rolled from his lips. Emma's heart skipped a beat, sweat rolled down her cheek. "There is no daddy." She blurted unable to keep a hint of bitterness out of her voice. Then after seeing his questioning glance she tried to explain. "I mean, he didn't stick around."

  Deke Travers shook his head, banged his fist on the old truck and muttered something under his breath.

  Emma had supplied more than enough information on the subject. She felt duty bound with him staring at her as though she'd suddenly become a rattlesnake about to strike him. She hadn't lied. Exactly. That part was true. Joel had left Kate high and dry. Devastating Kate. She'd been so sure they'd be married.

  So much for believing in cowboys.

  "And you are the one that ran into me that night in the rain, aren't you?"

  "Yes, but I honestly didn't realize it, till now. If you remember it was pouring rain that night and I never got a good look at you. Not with that flashlight staring me in the face. I wasn't about to give you my life story in the pouring rain. And you didn't give me a lot of room in that kitchen. You approached me, remember."

  "That suppose to satisfy me?"

  "I did pay you for the damages."

  "Yeah, you did. Do you always go around throwing money in men's faces?"

  "Only when I'm wrong. And I was wrong."

  He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes from her. The way he studied her made her squirm.

  "Why are you staring at me like that?"

  "I'm not used to being deceived."

  "I'm sorry. But you don't understand the circumstances."

  He didn't say anything. Just stood there staring.

  "Well–do I still have a job?" She asked not understanding why this cuter-than-sin-cowboy was so upset with her and the baby. And she hadn't exactly lied, she just hadn't told him everything. She wasn't aware she held her breath for his answer, either.

  "I don't usually hire people I can't trust."

  She nodded, not looking at him, but rather the toe of her uninteresting boot, "Then will you at least help me get this thing back on the road and we won't be bothering you again."

  He hesitated. So long in fact that she had to look up at him. He sighed heavily again. "I still need a cook," he said with tired resignation. But the light had gone out of those blue eyes, and he stared at her with a troubled expression.

  He took his hat off, displaying a thick head of rich chocolate brown hair, swept high and back. The kind of hair that makes a woman's palm itch. In fact, he made her downright uncomfortable all over. Maybe she should get out of here. Run.

  He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. "Try the ignition again."

  Emma missed his smile. He had an easy on the eyes kind of smile. Only she was sure he didn't use it enough, and didn't realize it's power.

  "Okay." She gave him a quick appraisal and wished she hadn't. The man was lethal. Every movement he made with that drop dead gorgeous body put her on alert. She was sure he wasn't exuding it purposely on her account. No, his muscles hadn't flexed against the back of his shirt for her benefit. He probably didn't realize his own potential. The way he walked and carried himself blatantly said, "I'm all man."

  The truck rumbled, and Emma looked up.

  "We need water." He said his voice full of strangled frustration each time he looked at her.

  "There's a jug in the back of the truck."

  "Good. Hopefully, it will be enough."

  "I filled it before we left town," Emma watched him, saw his muscles tense as she neared him again. Saw the muscle in his jaw wiggle. He was probably gritting his teeth to keep from shouting at her. The way Frank often had when she'd done something stupid. The way Charlie had when she'd told him she was leaving.

  "Mr. Travers . . ." Emma called, but he ignored her and got the wa
ter and took it around front. She followed. He hadn't given her so much as a backward glance.

  He ignored her, and Emma was determined not to allow him the pleasure.

  "Deke, call me Deke." He said when she came to stand beside him. Her hands rested on her hips, her feet apart. "We don't stand on formalities, Emma." He cast her another glance, this time from head to foot, bold, assessing. If the truth were known it was the most blatantly sexual assessment she encountered with a man. Charlie certainly never looked at her in that manner.

  Emma floundered. At that moment she wished she had worn something more attractive, but her meager wardrobe consisted of jeans, T-shirts, and one nice white shirt for dress. Working ranch girls didn't run around in pretty dresses. They dressed for work. Back home that was all she needed, a few jeans and T-shirts. Suddenly that didn't seem quite enough. Reality told her nothing would impress this cowboy though, and she had better sense than to try. But she hadn't wanted to impress anyone when she left home with Sammie Jo. Men were the furthest thing from

  her mind, after Charlie dumped her.

  Actually, that wasn't right either. She had dumped him. Reluctantly. She had practically forced him into instant fatherhood with her decision to keep Sammie Jo.

  Maybe it wasn't fair to Charlie. Forcing him to make a choice. But it was all she could do, she had an obligation to fulfill and nothing was going to stop her.

  She shook those memories away.

  She shouldn't be comparing Deke Travers to Charlie. Charlie was the one man she had ever dated, ever cared much about. She'd had no time for men in her life, and nothing had changed.

  Still it was hard not to compare them. But, this man was her boss. If she still had a job. A man to be reckoned with. A man who didn't like deceptions, didn't like games, and maybe even didn't like women.

  Despite his anger and impatience, she couldn't stop the train of thought that engulfed her. Deke Travers made her feel warm and feminine for some reason. Not like any man she'd been around. He made her want to go out and buy the prettiest dress she could find, just to show him. But Emma was no fool, she knew she couldn't hold a man like Deke. She wouldn't know where to begin. She had no experience beguiling men.

  "Y-you don't like babies?"

  She had searched for something to say, to alleviate the tension between them. And what tension. She sensed he was only inches from wringing her neck, by the hard set of his jaw. So why had she blurted out her next thought?

  For a moment he didn't answer. Just stared at her. Then as though her question deserved some sort of answer, he went around to Sammie Jo's window and stared down into the sleeping little face. His stern features softened momentarily and a hint of a smile played at his mouth. Just enough to let Emma know he was human, very human. The boss might bark a lot, but Emma decided he had a heart of gold. She might not know how to charm a man, but she certainly knew how to read one.

  "She's a cute little heifer, it'd be hard not to like her. It's just I wasn't expecting her, is all. I guess we can accommodate you both though. I mean the house is plenty big. Just see she doesn't wander off too far. Horses, cows and babies don't usually mix too well."

  "She won't be a bother. She's a wonderful baby, hardly ever cries."

  "Cries?" He looked at Emma again, another frown lining his forehead. He looked as confused as the feelings he stirred. "Oh, yeah, well, that's good."

  "Look. I could go back the same way I came."

  "Don't tempt me Emma. I'm already regretting the offer."

  Well tarnation, didn't the man realize that babies cried? "I'm sorry I sprang this on you, Mr. Travers. It wasn't fair. But consider this, in my position, what would you do? A woman alone can't always play her hand out." She reconsidered her tact. After all she had surprised him with this and he was handling it.

  "You obviously needed a cook, and I was going to lose my job back at Bertha's. You said so yourself. I have a child to support. I gathered you hired me out of desperation, and I took the job for the same reasons. As you can clearly see."

  He didn't say a word.

  "I really am a good cook, and I can handle a big house too. I've had three older brothers to pick up after most of my life. I grew up on a small ranch back in East Texas, so I'm sure I can adjust to yours."

  Deke Travers turned about to look at her again. He seemed to be studying her words. "Three brothers, huh? Where were they when this jerk came along?"

  Emma scrambled for an answer, knowing he meant Joel and not knowing what to say. "My brothers don't run my life. No man does."

  "No man runs from responsibilities, either," Deke Travers shot her a questioning look.

  Emma's heart fluttered. God, he'd be hard not to fall in love with. Such old fashioned principles struck a chord with her. Of course she had more sense than that. He couldn't be for real, he was a cowboy for God's sake. He was a lot like Frank. Thinking of Joel she added, "Then maybe he wasn't much of a man."

  "Took you a while to figure that one out, I guess."

  "I guess so." She lied. Let him blame her, no one was going to desecrate Kate's name while she was around. She really should set the man straight though before he got the wrong impression of her, but right now was certainly not the time. She had a broke down truck, a hot and tired baby, and a job she needed to secure before she admitted anything else. Lies or no lies.

  Deke Travers might be hard not to like. He was obviously one of the good guys who wore white hats and saved ladies in distress. But the truth could wait another day. Hadn't he heard of a little white lie. A lie to protect someone you love? Some times it was necessary.

  He nodded and filled the thirsty tank. "Now, wanna try it again."

  Silently Emma wished they could start over. She wished she could bring back that fantastic smile to his lips. The one that heated her skin, and made her prickle. But goodness, her mind was flighty. Must be the heat. He stirred something within her, with just a look. And that had never happened before, not even with Charlie.

  This time the truck started and spurted. Emma waved.

  "Remember two things Emma." He came to stand just in front of her, his legs far apart, his eyes narrowing on her. "I don't like deception, in any form. For any reason. And two, I'm always fair."

  Emma opened her mouth to spill her guts, but a clap of thunder to the north broke his attention.

  "We better be getting to the house. Looks like a norther. Okay, little lady, follow me. We're on our way home."

  Deke nodded, mounted and headed west without another word.

  "Home?" Emma repeated as Sammie Jo woke up and let out a wail.

  Emma reached over and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. "It's going to be all right, Sammie Jo. You'll see. I'll tell him everything as soon as I'm sure where I stand. I've got to talk to a lawyer, darling. I've got to get this settled."

  Emma forced the worries from her mind. She wished he would have given her time to say something but it didn't seem in the cards, as Frank used to say. Perhaps it was for the best. She'd tell him the truth at the first opportunity.

  Home, Emma sighed to herself as she stared at the retreating horse and rider. She was so hungry for the word home she could almost taste it. Yet hard lessons had taught her that home was where you made it. And she was determined to make one.

  Chapter Three

  Sprawled in the middle of a vast prairie, the ranch conjured many images of the old west. Aside from the main house, there were two barns, a shed, and a bunkhouse. The place was bigger and much more spread out than the ranch she had been raised on. She drove around a circular gravel drive that lead to the walkway of the house. A one story white frame house that spread over well manicured lawns. Its very atmosphere spelled home. White rocking chairs adorned the long veranda, and between two of the old rockers there was a checker table all set up, as if waiting for someone to arrive.

  A Sheltie came up to the truck and barked loudly, wagging its tail ready to greet her and eager for a pat.

  "Down Denve
r," Deke called as he dismounted, loosened the stirrups and handed the reins of his fine stallion to a ranch hand. Coming around the truck he gave the dog an affection pat.

  Like all good cowboys, he took care of his animals first.

  "Brush her down good, will ya Pete." He gave the animal a quick affectionate pat on the rump as he was led away.

  "Sure thing boss."

  Two cowboys stood negligently against the porch railing watching her. Emma smiled at them shyly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the bunkhouse cowboys gather at the edge of the porch, some scratching their chins, others digging their boots into the gravel. They had to be the hired men, they were covered with dust, and reeked of saddle leather and cows, she noted as they moved closer.

  Then an older man came through the front door of the house and stood on the edge of the steps. His smile was wide and welcoming as he raised a hand to wave at Deke. It was also very familiar, since Deke Travers wore an identical smile.

  "Howdy," the older man called out to her as Emma got out of the truck and came around to the other side. He coughed harshly, then smiled again as he gathered his strength. Emma warmed to his friendliness. This man had a way about him that Emma related to. He wasn't as tall as the other men, and a little bent, but his face glowed with life.

  "Howdy," Emma said just before she whirled about to get Sammie Jo out of her car seat. She felt a pack of eyes on her now, as she turned her back to them. Naturally they'd be curious. Probably surprised as Deke had been about the baby. She had trouble again with the buckle on the seat and Deke reached around her to help as though he'd done it a thousand times. One clip of the hand and Sammie Jo was free. There wasn't enough room for the three of them.

  The intimacy made Emma back away. She bit a nail nervously to keep from brushing hands with Deke Travers. It was a unnecessary action, and she should have been grateful, but Deke Travers was affecting her like no man she could recall.

  God, she was acting like a schoolgirl. She didn't want to be shy, she wanted to appear sophisticated and in charge of herself. She wanted to portray independence.