Home on the Ranch: Colorado Cowboy

by Patricia Potter

  He gave her a chagrined look, which softened the hard face. “We had a long ride together.”

  She tried not to let it affect her. “Take off your boots and socks and roll up those jeans. Prepare to get wet.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently but she saw a shadow of a smile cross his face as she turned and left.

  * * *

  Could this day get any worse?

  Yeah, he reminded himself. It would have been, had the innkeeper not been so helpful. She was damned attractive, too. As weary as he was, he couldn’t deny a certain spark flaring inside. It wasn’t just her appearance that attracted him—the startlingly blue eyes, long dark hair, a body that was both athletic and womanly, and her easy smile—but her sense of humor and her ready acceptance of two strangers who must look like they’d stepped out of someone’s nightmare.

  Her smile was infectious and made him want to smile as well, even as he sat uncomfortably on the seat of a toilet in a decidedly feminine bathroom holding a wriggling, flea-infested mongrel at an ungodly hour and wondered what in the hell happened to his nice comfortable life. No complications. No responsibilities except to his current patients. That was his motto.

  He silently condemned Josh for getting him into this mess. He’d just finished several assignments and had planned a biking trip up the California coast to Washington. No schedule except a few stops to see buddies. That was the way he liked it.

  Hobo squirmed in his arms, but Ross hated to put him down on the rose-colored rug that covered a quarter of the pristine bathroom floor. He set the dog down in the empty tub instead and wondered again about his hostess as he awaited her return. Obviously she was dedicated to her job since she’d appeared in the middle of the night and opened her house to a stranger. Her smile was a killer.

  Hobo tried to move again in an obvious effort to get more comfortable but he didn’t make any noise. Not a whimper. “You’re a good soldier,” Ross said. “I wish you didn’t need a bath but you’re a mess right now. Not fit for polite company, and we’re in polite company.”

  His years in the army had taught him to be observant, and he noticed details. The living area downstairs looked comfortable with large stuffed chairs, Western paintings and several full bookcases. There was a big flowering plant in front of the large window.

  The guest bedroom looked equally as attractive with a queen-size bed covered by what looked like a handmade quilt. Three large paintings of Western scenes decorated the walls. A comfortable-looking chair sat next to a window.

  All the rooms had something in common. They were homey, comfortable and unpretentious.

  He told himself none of it mattered. He was just here overnight and he was tired enough that the garage and a sleeping bag would have sufficed. He smothered a yawn. Damn but he was tired. He tried to snap back to the present.

  He’d just finished taking off his boots and socks when she appeared with the bath supplies, along with a length of yarn.

  She eyed his large naked feet and rolled up jeans. “Battle ready?” she asked.

  “Can’t be worse than serving under Josh,” he said.

  She laughed.

  He liked the sound of it. In fact he liked a lot about her. He was impressed with her energy. He’d probably pulled her out of bed, then invaded her home with a filthy animal, not to mention his own sorry state, and she was being helpful. She’d been apologetic, businesslike and a tad defensive when he met her, and while he’d had little choice in accepting her offer, he hadn’t been enthusiastic.

  He still wasn’t enthusiastic but he felt a hell of a lot better about the situation. He knew his size could be intimidating. She’d been a bit hesitant at first but then used her instincts. She was confident enough in her own abilities to bring him inside her home. He liked that.

  Not, he reminded himself, that it mattered. He had no intention of staying in Covenant Falls one day longer than his two-week commitment to Josh. “I doubt he’ll object any more than if it was the canine kind,” he said of the shampoo.

  She examined him. “It’ll be easier to hold him while you sit on the edge of the tub with your feet in the water than leaning over the edge. If he’s not familiar with a bath, he’s going to fight you, but you’ll be right there with him.” She leaned over Hobo and covered the wounded leg with its splint with several plastic bags, then secured them with a piece of yarn.

  “More comfortable than a rubber band,” she said. “It may not be waterproof but it will help.”

  Makes sense. While still holding Hobo, Ross swung his long legs over the edge of the tub and perched on the narrow rim. It was...uncomfortable to say the least. Susan detached the hand showerhead from above and handed it to him. He turned the faucet on and water splashed all over him and the dog.

  Hobo protested. He barked and tried to squirm out of Ross’s grip. Ross held the dog with one hand as he frantically thrashed about, and gripped the showerhead in the other. His partner in dog torture leaned over and took the spray head from him and set it at a gentler output then handed it back to Ross. She’d taken off her shoes and sat on the rim of the tub with him and cooed over the dog as Ross rubbed a mixture of soap and water into the fur.

  Hobo wasn’t buying it. He kept wriggling. Ross was covered with water as Hobo tried to get out of his grasp, then shook water all over the bathroom and both of them.

  Susan stood and stepped out of the tub, but Ross felt her eyes on him as he used more soap and water.

  “Saints above,” Susan exclaimed. “The dog is changing color.” She gave him a sympathetic glance. “I think you’re next when you’re finished with Hobo,” she said with what he considered a smirk.

  He looked down at himself. He was soaked. His jeans were dirty from road dust and the rest of him was not much better. Why she ever let him in her house was beyond him. “I think you’re right,” he admitted.

  “Is there anything else I can get you?” she said as she moved away from the bathroom.

  “You’re really not going to stay and help?”

  “You’re a big boy,” she said, “with all four limbs intact. I think you can manage it.”

  Despite the frank words, he detected a hint of a smile in her eyes. She’d obviously enjoyed his discomfort.

  “Maybe,” he said. “But this seems beyond my expertise. I bow to yours.”

  “What is it they say about throwing a kid into the water to teach him to swim,” she said, amusement tinting every word.

  “They drown sometimes,” he replied.

  “I don’t think you would be one of them,” she shot back, then added, “I’m leaving at seven to help with checkout at the inn, but I’ll have a thermos of coffee outside your room. There’ll also be some pastries on the dining room table and orange juice in the fridge. Take your time,” she added. “We probably won’t have a room ready until ten.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “No need. I like dogs,” she explained.

  He noticed he wasn’t included in the statement.

  “Sleep in. And leave those clothes in the bathroom. I’ll wash them and take them to the inn.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he replied obediently.

  “Just close the front door when you leave and make sure the cat doesn’t go with you.

  “And don’t lock it,” he recalled. “You must be the most trusting person in America.”

  “Nope.” Her voice softened. “I just know Covenant Falls and I’m a fairly good judge of character after fifteen years in the hospitality field.”

  “Hobo and I thank you. You’ve gone way beyond the call of duty. I don’t want to think what would have happened if I’d tried to wash Hobo by myself in a hotel room.”

  “Yes,” she affirmed. “The bill would be staggering.”

  “Agreed,” he replied. “I owe you.”

  “We aim to please,” she said,
then left him to finish on his own.

  Ross smiled at the last comment even as the soapy dog tried again to get out of the tub and splashed a mixture of dirty, soapy water over his jeans.

  He wanted Susan Hall back but damned if he was going to call for her. It must be near 2:00 a.m. now. He sure as hell wasn’t going to admit he needed help in giving a small dog a bath. He recalled only too well the doubt in her eyes when he insisted he could do it on his own. Ha!

  Finally, the exhausted little guy gave up and stayed relatively still. Ross finished rinsing the last of the soap and it was then he saw bite marks and other scars on the dog. He uttered a few “not for polite ears” oaths, and plucked Hobo from the deep tub only to be on the receiving side of another shower as the dog shook himself and more water landed on him and the floor.

  Now he knew why Susan brought so many towels and why she’d escaped.

  He dried Hobo as best he could. And then he saw more scars. A lot of old ones. Some not as old. He suddenly felt very protective. He would find Hobo a good home, one with children who would love him as he deserved to be loved.

  Once reasonably clean, the dog was a tan and white mixture. The leg under the baggies was wet but not nearly as wet as the rest of him. He was, Ross had to admit, kinda engaging, if you liked little dogs. He liked big ones, especially when they belonged to someone else.

  Ross used several of the towels to wipe the wet floor as Hobo huddled against the closed door, then neatly folded the wet towels and left them in the sink to drip.

  There was one dry one left.

  “Sorry, kiddo,” he told Hobo. “You have to wait until I take my turn.”

  He rinsed out the tub, then hooked the showerhead back where it belonged.

  He turned the temperature to hot, only to discover there was no hot left.

  Resigned to another bump on this day, he took a cold shower, washing off two days on the road. He was freezing when he felt he’d made a dent. The rest had to wait until tomorrow. He definitely wasn’t going to shave with cold water.

  He left his wet clothes in the bathroom, and he and Hobo headed for the bedroom. He found a big, plastic clothes basket inside. It was lined with a thick, soft blanket. A dish of water was next to it along with a dish containing small pieces of chicken. For him there was a glass of milk and cookies on a bedside table.

  Milk and cookies? He hadn’t had that since he was a tyke.

  Hobo had no reservations. He gobbled the chicken and drank a little water before Ross plucked him up and settled him in the basket. The dog did a couple of crooked circles on the soft material, then collapsed on it. He obviously didn’t hold a grudge about the recent indignity and discomfort. But then he hadn’t had a cold shower.

  There was something backward about that.

  Ross replaced his wet clothes with clean dry skivvies, then sat on the bed and ate the cookies and drank the milk.

  Ross looked at the dog curled up and breathing easily, and his heart hitched a little. He decided he didn’t begrudge the little guy all the hot water.

  He turned off the light and sank into the bed. The crisp clean sheets felt great but his mind wouldn’t shut off as fast as Hobo’s apparently did.

  His hostess’s last smile—full of mischief and challenge—wouldn’t leave his thoughts. It had been such a turnaround from the woman who’d walked into the inn with such businesslike determination. He certainly hadn’t expected the invitation to her home, the ugliest cat he’d ever seen, her tenderness with Hobo nor her lack of concern as he and Hobo wrecked her bathroom.

  And then cookies?

  Watch it, Taylor.

  It was a damn good thing he would be here a very short time before moving on. He would call Josh first thing in the morning and work out a schedule. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could take his long-anticipated drive up the coast.

  Josh might be tamed, but he certainly never would be.

  He turned over and closed his eyes, lulled by Hobo’s soft, contented snoring.

  Chapter 4

  Streams of gold poured through the windows when Ross woke the next morning. Ross glanced at the clock on the table next to him. Nearly eight. It took him several seconds before he remembered where he was.

  He rarely slept past six. His internal clock, in fact, usually woke him at 5:00 a.m. Then it all flooded back: the long ride, finding Hobo, arriving late in Covenant Falls only to find he had no room. Then, of course, the disastrous Hobo bath. He groaned. He didn’t really want to think of that.

  Ross glanced down at the basket. Hobo was curled up in a tight ball, his head resting on the bad leg.

  Ross stood, stiff from the long ride yesterday. He did several quick stretches and felt better, then did some push-ups. He remembered something about coffee being outside his door. Hopefully, he went to get it. True to Ms. Hall’s word, a thermos sat on a tray, along with an oversize cup and several pastries. A note told him there was orange juice in the fridge.

  Ross picked up the tray, took it inside and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  Then he called Josh on his cell phone.

  “Where in the hell are you?” Josh asked. “I knew you were delayed a day, but we expected you yesterday.”

  “You haven’t talked to Susan Hall?”

  “No. I checked with her around seven last night and she hadn’t heard from you.”

  “I had a few delays and arrived a little after 11:00 p.m. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “I was disturbed. I was worried.”

  “I didn’t know you cared,” Ross tossed back.

  “I care about our schedule,” Josh said grumpily. “I’ll be right over to the inn. Ten minutes, say. We can have breakfast.”

  “Ah,” Ross said, “I’m not exactly at the inn.”

  “Then where in the hell are you?”

  Suddenly he realized he didn’t want to say. Would it hurt Susan Hall’s reputation? Or her job?

  “I’ll meet you at the inn in, say, thirty minutes,” he suggested instead.

  There was a pause, then Josh said, “I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll be bringing a friend.”

  “A friend?”

  “You can meet when I arrive.”

  “She’s not going to distract you?” Josh asked with new concern in his voice.

  “It’s not a she and when did you know me to be distracted?”

  “I haven’t seen you in several years.”

  “See you shortly,” Ross said, and hung up before there were more questions. He took a deep swallow of coffee, which was, thankfully, strong and hot. He also ate the two pastries, drank a second cup of coffee and then went downstairs and had two large glasses of orange juice.

  Bathroom was next. He’d been avoiding it and the mess. He’d cleaned it as well as he could last night but all the towels had been wet so he’d only hung his on the shower curtain rod. It was the best he could do.

  To his amazement, it looked almost as clean and tidy as when he first saw it. How she managed that without waking him was a puzzlement. He took a quick hot shower, shaved for the first time in three days and dressed in the clean jeans and T-shirt in his saddlebags. Then he picked up Hobo and took him outside. He didn’t have to worry about Hobo running away, not with his bad leg. He was pleasantly surprised when the dog promptly did his business in the yard. He was a smart little guy...

  The two of them rode up to the inn four minutes later.

  He plucked Hobo from the basket on his bike and entered the lobby. Hobo looked like a different dog from the one he’d picked up yesterday. He was still scrawny, and scars were still evident but at least he looked clean.

  He headed toward the desk. Both Susan and a young man were working the desk, and she was busy with a young couple. She looked up at him. “He’s in the library,” she said, and turned back to the c
ouple.

  He stopped at the counter to pour a cup of coffee, then holding the coffee in one hand and Hobo in the other he walked to the library. Josh was tapping his fingers impatiently at the table Ross had used just a few hours earlier. A cup of coffee was on the table in front of him.

  “Long time, no see,” Ross remarked as he set Hobo on the floor.

  “This is your friend?” Josh asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Not exactly a friend. I found him yesterday on a mountain road. He’d been shot and apparently left to die or someone thought he was already dead.”

  “So that’s why you’re late.”

  Ross nodded. “He was a mess. His leg looked infected and maybe broken and I did what I could but it wasn’t much. I tried to find a veterinarian but the only one I located was closed. I had to stop frequently to check on him so I arrived around eleven last night, and the inn was full.

  He took a sip of coffee, then continued. Since I hadn’t arrived on Friday and it was late last night, Ms. Hall assumed I wouldn’t show last night either and gave the room to an elderly couple. In lieu of a room here, she suggested I stay at her house overnight. She said she’d rented out a room before. And apparently I looked harmless. And desperate.”

  “You? Harmless. Ha!” Josh said. “It’s a good thing she didn’t call me. I seem to remember something else.”

  “Well, not to worry. I spent the night giving Hobo a bath and getting one from him, as well. I don’t think he’d ever had one before. You should have seen him...”

  “You and that little dog?” A smile was spreading over Josh’s face.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m going to turn him over to the veterinarian today. I hear she’s in the dog rescue business.”

  “Not going to happen,” Josh said. “She has more rescue dogs than she can handle right now.” He paused. “You really spent the night at Susan’s?”

  “Yeah. Susan didn’t mention it this morning?”

  “Nope. She was busy when I came in. She runs the inn completely free of me and Nate, my partner. Does all the marketing, and she’s great with guests, but she doesn’t usually take in guests at her home.”