“Well, yes, of course I knew that,” she bluffed.
“Yes sir,” he said, taking her arm again. “Long hours, long days. Taking your photographs, helping out in the kitchen, grooming the horses, herding cattle. You’re going to be mighty busy around here.”
CHAPTER TWO
In spite of his list of her expected chores, when Cam took her arm, Billie felt a rush of warmth that had her starting in surprise, then easing her elbow from his grasp. He didn’t seem to notice. A sideways glance told her he was intent on frog-marching her to the little cabin by the barn. Since no one had been expecting her, she wasn’t sure how clean the place would be. Whatever it was like, she wouldn’t breathe a word of complaint, but would make the best of it. She already knew she wasn’t being welcomed by Cam. He was only fulfilling his mother’s obligation. Besides, she had stayed in much worse places.
Billie made a little promise of her own -- to stay out of Cam’s way as much as possible when she wasn’t photographing him.
“Look around and see what you need to make yourself comfortable,” Cam was saying gruffly as they mounted the steps to the front door, which seemed to sag on its hinges, but then Billie smiled to see that the door actually fit snugly in its crooked frame. She wondered what kind of cross-eyed carpenter had built this place.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she murmured. She was still admiring the door. She felt his gaze on her and turned to see a hint of puzzlement in his eyes, but he glanced away.
He cleared his throat. “You can eat here if you can get the stove to work. If I remember right, it’s a little temperamental. Or you can come up to the house. We eat at six. The boys and I take turns cooking when my mother is gone.”
She looked at him and grinned.
He ducked his head and tilted it to one side. “Yeah, well, some of them are better cooks than others. It makes for interesting mealtimes.”
“Thanks. I will do my part to help with the cooking, though. If I eat with you, it’ll give me a chance to talk to everyone about the workings of the ranch.”
Cam pushed the door open and held it for her while she stepped inside. As soon as she was across the threshold, Billie took a quick glance around and felt that she had stepped back in time to the nineteen forties. The walls were painted a faded green. There was a braided rug in the middle of the linoleum-covered floor. A sofa stood along one wall with a matching chair at an angle beside it and a coffee table in front. It was leather and golden maple with a horsehead design burned into the wood of the tabletop and the arms of the furniture.
“Very . . . retro,” she said approvingly. “I like the horsehead motif.”
“It’s a mule’s head,” he said. “This is the Muleshoe Ranch, after all.”
“Very . . . artistically done,” she said, examining the design on the tabletop more closely.
“Considering the artist was about ten at the time.”
She looked up. “Was it you?”
“Yeah,” he answered gruffly, no doubt wishing he hadn’t said anything. “I got a woodburning set for Christmas and Burt let me try it out on his furniture.”
Billie straightened and smiled at him, imagining him as a dark-haired boy, studiously working on the design. “It’s great. It really fits this place. The whole house is wonderful. Thanks so much for letting me use it.”
Cam stared at her for a few seconds and his hand made a small movement as if he was going to reach out to her. Turning abruptly, he nodded toward an open doorway. “Yeah, well, you haven’t seen the plumbing yet. The bedroom is in there. And the bathroom is at the end of the hall.”
Billie followed him to a tiny bedroom which held an old-fashioned iron bedframe with what looked like a fairly new box spring and mattress set. There was also a small chest of drawers and a nightstand with a lamp in the shape of a covered wagon. She laughed, delighted at the picture it made.
“This gives me an idea of just exactly the slant I want to take on the photo essay,” she said excitedly, turning to Cam. “You as the modern rancher who still has one foot in the old ways.”
He frowned. “No cattleman can have one foot in the old ways. He’d sink into debt over his head in the blink of an eye.” He turned away and went into the bathroom where he turned on the faucets, obviously checking to make sure the plumbing still worked.
Billie was miffed at his tone, but reminded herself that she needed to stay in his good graces – if she could manage to find any. Doggedly, she followed him. “I don’t mean financially. I mean sticking to tradition, staying on the land your family has owned and ranched for many years. Keeping some of the buildings just as they were.” From the look on his face, she didn’t think she was doing a very good job of explaining what she was thinking, so she pressed her lips together and gave a little shrug.
She couldn’t seem to verbalize that it had to do with tradition and continuity, with establishing something solid and maintaining it. She didn’t know him well enough to be able to stumble through such an explanation and she certainly didn’t know what he was thinking. He wasn’t easy to read at all. She was more accustomed to animals and, with a little research, she usually knew what they were going to do, but she didn’t know what to think of Cam Van Peter.
True, he was drop-dead gorgeous. He would photograph like a dream. She gave him a speculative look, wondering what kinds of images she would be able to capture. They would have to be action shots. He obviously wasn’t the type to sit still for a head shot.
He turned back to her. “Looks like the plumbing’s okay. The water heater is electric and only needs to be switched on . . . . What?” he asked, no doubt seeing the dreamy look on her face.
Billie straightened, embarrassed to have been caught staring starry-eyed at him. What was the matter with her? This was strictly business and she needed to concentrate on not offending him.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said brightly, rubbing her palms together. She stepped back into the living room and he followed her. “The plumbing’s in good shape? That’s fine, fine, just fine. Well, then I’ll get my . . . my bags and settle in.” Oh great, she’d gone from staring to babbling. She watched as he went into the kitchen, opened a closet to switch on the water heater, then came back to her.
“That’s done.” Cam headed for the door, obviously anxious to get away from her. “I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you at six if you decide to join us for dinner.” He swung the door open and rocked to a stop. “What in the . . . ?”
Billie couldn’t see what he was looking at, so she stood on tiptoe and craned her neck. “Oh, how sweet,” she said. “A welcoming committee.”
Cam made a growling sound. Every man on the place was standing in the yard, each of them holding something that they must have taken out of Billie’s car. Jess held a hot pink makeup kit and a blow-dryer. Don Parkey, perhaps recalling that he was actually married, held camera cases and boxes of film. A folded tripod was tucked under his arm. Another ranch hand, Brian Beeson, who was all of sixteen, had materialized from somewhere and had an armload of what looked like the contents of Billie’s glove compartment – maps, a box of facial tissues, and a package of gum. Her purse dangled from his arm.
“Did you boys at least leave her engine in place?” Cam asked sardonically.
Jess just grinned. “Only trying to help, boss.” He looked past Cam to Billie. “If you’ll let me have your keys for just a few minutes, we’ll get the rest of your things.”
“Oh, of course,” Billie said, digging into her pocket to produce the keys. She pushed past Cam who reluctantly stepped out of her way. He glowered at his men, but she beamed at them. “This is so kind of you,” she said, taking her things from Jess. “I couldn’t ask for a nicer welcome.”
Cam made that growling noise again. “I could ask for something. I could ask for all of you to get back to work.”
“Be right with you, boss,” Jess said. “I’ll just pop that trunk and get the rest of her things.” He was supposedly speaking to Cam, b
ut his eyes never lift Billie’s friendly smile.
Keys in hand as he continued to gaze at Billie, Jess started to turn on the sagging porch just as Brian, apparently drawn like a moth to flame, burst into action and bounded up the steps. They crashed into each other and did a mad little two-step dance as they tried to get their balance. Big, boot-clad feet tangled together and they pitched together off the porch and into the dirt.
Cam stomped down the steps and picked both men up. As if they were rag dolls, they dangled in his big hands and gave him sheepish grins. Dividing a disgusted look between the two of them, he released them, snatched the keys from Jess’s hand and said, “I’ll get her things out of her car. You two get back to work.”
Seeing there was no arguing with him, Brian plucked her purse from the ground, dusted it off, and handed it to her before they scuttled away. Don Parkey gave Billie the cameras and film, muttered something about getting back to his office, and hurried after them.
Cam pointed a finger at her. “No disruptions to the routine around here,” he warned. “Remember, you’re a phantom, a ghost. I’ll never even know you’re here.”
Solemnly, Billie held up her hand in the time-honored Scout salute and said, “On my honor,” she said. “But you know, I can unpack my own things. I did pack them, after all.”
He gave her a withering glance and headed toward her car. Billie almost backed off, but then decided she wasn’t going to be intimidated by him. She marched along behind him, deftly snatched her car keys from his hand and opened the trunk. “I can do this myself,” she said, lifting her chin at him.
He paused and gave her a long look. She saw a hint of grudging admiration in his eyes, but then he seemed to draw back. “Just stay out of my way.”
“I’ve already said that I would,” she reminded him.
Cam gave a nod and walked away. Puzzled, Billie gazed after him. Funny, his words had been directed at her, but it seemed that the warning might have been aimed at himself.
* * *
By six o’clock, Billie had cleaned up the cabin and put away all of her things. Cam had sent Jess over to make sure the water heater was working, and to bring her fresh linens for the bed. Jess had wanted to linger, but mindful of her vow to cause no distractions on the ranch, she had cheerfully ushered him out saying she had a great deal to do. Jess had looked crestfallen, but Billie had promised to join them all for dinner and he’d seemed to cheer up.
Once he was gone, she had checked over her equipment to make sure it was ready to go. She had also used her cell phone to call her Aunt Portia and tell her that she had arrived safely and would start work first thing in the morning. She had tried to sound upbeat and hadn’t mentioned anything about Cam Van Peter’s reluctance to have her on the ranch. She knew her aunt didn’t need any added worries.
Billie owed a huge debt to her aunt who had taught her to use a camera and supported each new venture and assignment. She had surprised her entire family with how easily she’d taken to photography and shown real ability in it. At Thanksgiving dinner five years ago, her father had offered a prayer of thanks that Billie had finished wandering in the career wilderness and found her calling. She would have been annoyed about him singling her out if his gratitude hadn’t been so sincerely grateful that she’d chosen the right career and no one had to worry about her anymore.
Just before six, she brushed her hair, freshened her makeup, misted on some perfume, and started toward the house. She brought her camera because she carried it with her everywhere, and she had already decided that she might as well start photographing right away. Her Aunt Portia had taught her that the more candid shots she took, the better her chances would be of producing something really spectacular.
That would be easy on this ranch, Billie thought, pausing by the corral to gaze at a horse who stood with his head over the top rail as if he was waiting for a friend to come by. Billie patted his velvety nose, then stood back and took a couple of shots of him, head turned, backlit by the setting sun before heading toward the ranch house.
Since the back door was closer, she used that one – and walked into chaos.
Smoke boiled from the oven where Jess stood fanning away the fumes with two pot holders. He reached into the oven and pulled out a long, blackened tube that Billie could only guess had once been bread. He stared forlornly at the mess. The smoke alarm shrieked importantly in the background.
“Good grief, Jess,” Cam was saying. “I leave you alone for fifteen minutes, and you try to burn the place down.” He glanced around wildly. “Will you please pull the plug on that smoke alarm?” He swung toward his other unfortunate ranch hand. “And you, Brian. You’re supposed to boil the spaghetti noodles, not roast ‘em! What were you two thinking?”
“Sorry, boss,” Brian said, holding the lid to a big stock pot and staring down into a burned, gluey mess. “I’ve got . . . . “ His voice broke. “I’ve got other things on my mind.” He coughed, cleared his throat, and blinked before dropping the lid back onto the pot.
“Can I help?” Billie asked tentatively.
The three men swung toward her. Brian’s expression was one of gratitude, Jess’s was appreciative, and Cam’s was glum.
“We’re doing just fine, thanks,” he said. His two men stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, and Billie gave that statement the recognition it deserved by ignoring it completely. She stepped into the room and looked at Jess. “Is there another loaf of bread?” she asked.
Jess nodded.
“Then why don’t we start again?” she asked. She smiled at Brian. “Dump that out. We’ll scrub the pot and cook some more noodles. From what I saw of the pantry earlier today, Mrs. Van Peter has plenty more where those came from.”
Brian nodded and Billie gave him a concerned glance as he turned to do as she’d said. His eyes looked suspiciously bright as if he was fighting tears. Her gaze swung to Cam. Was the boy upset because Cam had yelled at him? She couldn’t keep herself from giving Cam a frosty look. She hated to see people upset, especially someone as young and seemingly sweet as Brian.
While he took the burned mess out to dump it and to scrape the pot, and Jess was trying to unplug the smoke alarm, she said, “I know this is probably none of my business, but what have you done to Brian?”
Cam stared at her. “Me? Nothing.”
“He seems upset.”
“Ya think?” Cam retorted and ran his hands through his hair. “What’s wrong with him is the same thing that’s always wrong with him.”
“What would that be?”
Cam shook his head slightly, then nodded toward the doorway where Brian had just appeared.
Billie took the pot from Brian and carried it to the sink. Over her shoulder, she said, “Why don’t you see if you can find more pasta? I’ll scrub this.”
With a nod, he turned back to the pantry. Cam muttered something about paperwork and strode from the room.
Jess found another loaf of bread, buttered it, wrapped it in foil, and stuck it in the oven. He then poured the spaghetti sauce into a pan and set it on the stovetop to simmer. Cam called for Jess and the young man rushed from the room.
Through all of this, Brian hadn’t returned. Billie left the scrubbed pot on the countertop and went to look for him. She found him in the pantry, sitting on the floor, head drooping miserably, a package of spaghetti noodles clutched to his chest.
“Brian, what’s the matter?” she asked, rushing to his side. She crouched down.
Embarrassed, he turned his face away from her. “Nuh . . nothing.”
She scooted around to sit beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t try to tell me that. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Kyndra.”
“Kyndra?” Billie patted his arm.
“My girlfriend.” His voice caught. “Or she was my girlfriend until about an hour ago when she called to tell me she was breaking up with me.” He turned a despondent face to her. “She says she loves someone else.”
/> “I’m so sorry, but you know, that’s her loss,” Billie responded, giving him a hug. “She’s crazy to break up with someone as handsome and . . . and hardworking as you are.”
“Really?” The boy turned damp eyes to stare at her.
“Of course. And she might realize that herself pretty soon, or you might just move on. Either way, you’ve had a big shock and you’ll recover from it, but you’ll have to give yourself time. Right now, though, you need to have something to eat. My mom says a hearty meal can cure just about anything.” Thinking how crazily ironic it was for her to be giving him such advice, she took the package of spaghetti noodles from him. “Now, why don’t you go wash your face? You’ll feel better.”
She gave him a couple of encouraging thumps on the back and a big smile. She had no idea if what she’d said would help, but she’d had to say something. He’d looked so downhearted.
“Okay,” Brian said, giving her a grateful smile. He rose and headed for the kitchen. When she heard him hesitate, Billie glanced after him and saw Cam standing in the doorway. Ducking past, Brian scurried into the kitchen.
As she rose slowly to her feet, he leaned against the doorjamb and said, “Is advice to the lovelorn another of your talents?”
“He was upset and I’m surprised you couldn’t see that.”
“I saw it, and I knew the cause of it. He and his girlfriend break up about every other week.”
“Well, in that case, I’d think you’d be a little more sympathetic.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not running a nursery here. I’m trying to run a ranch. And I thought you weren’t going to be interfering in things around here, just observing.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“Then you need to stick to your own business.”
Here To Stay (Welcome to Lucky Break, Arizona!) Page 3