His Texas Wildflower

by Stella Bagwell

  Acquiring the ranch had put a dream into motion for Jake. And along the way, he’d gone from farrier work to running the stables at Ruidoso Downs, to helping Quint build the Golden Spur into a cattle empire. His financial security had slowly and surely changed. Especially three years ago when gold had been discovered on the Golden Spur and Jake had purchased shares in the richly producing mine. Now, the Rafter R was taking shape. He was gradually building the place the way he saw fit and answering to no one but himself. And that meant the ranch’s success or failure rested squarely upon his shoulders.

  For Jake, it was a heavy weight of responsibility and one he’d never grown accustomed to carrying. But he was trying. And for the most part, Jake couldn’t complain. He had a large herd of cattle and horses, a home, and a ranch yard full of sturdy barns and plenty of equipment. He even employed two hands to take care of the animals. He had most everything a cowboy could want. Except a family.

  That lonesome thought entered his mind as he pulled his horse to a stop outside the barn, then swung himself down to the ground. But he tried not to dwell on it as he loosened the sweaty girth and pulled the saddle from the animal’s back. He wasn’t the family sort. Being a husband and father and doing it right meant loving one woman for the rest of his life. He couldn’t imagine putting himself in such a confinement, much less succeeding at it.

  Jake had just finished putting away his horse and tack, when he heard his mother’s voice calling to him from the edge of the barn door. More than surprised that she’d ventured away from Ruidoso so late in the evening, he strode down the wide alleyway to greet her.

  Clara Rollins was a thin woman with wispy brown hair and a face that could only be described as tired. Jake could remember a time, back before his father, Lee, had left the family, that his mother had been a beautiful, vibrant woman. But that had been nearly twenty years ago, before his parents’ marriage had begun to crumble and before she’d been diagnosed with cancer.

  She’d beaten the disease, but the fierce treatments had weakened her heart and for the past five years Jake had watched her movements grow slower, the light in her eyes fade away. Not because her heart condition had worsened, but because she’d lost all will and hope. He loved his mother and wanted to make her life better, but her mind-set was always on the negative. She refused to get better, because she believed she had no reason to get better.

  “This is a nice surprise,” he said, as he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’ve not driven over here to the ranch in ages.”

  “I haven’t seen you in days,” she said in a faintly accusing tone.

  Jake bit back a sigh. In spite of his affection for his mother, she often tried his patience. Probably even more than Abe tried Quint’s. But at least Abe was full of life. The old man would go to the end kicking, joking and enjoying his time on earth. Clara was content to simply wait for her life to slip by. He hated her attitude, but as yet hadn’t found a way to change it.

  “I’ve been very busy, Mom. I’ve been riding fence line this week.” He gathered his arm around her shoulders and urged her away from the barn. “Let’s go to the house. I’ll see if I can scrounge us up something for supper.”

  “No need for that. I’ve brought you some pot roast. It’s already in the kitchen, waiting to be heated.”

  He rewarded her with a look of approval. “You’ve been cooking? You must be feeling better.”

  “I just like to know my son is eating right,” she said wanly.

  Jake’s house was located about fifty yards from the block of barns and sheds that made up the ranch yard. Even though he kept his pace slow to match his mother’s, she was breathing hard by the time they reached the back door and stepped into the kitchen. A part of him wanted to shake her for not following the doctor’s orders and keeping herself in shape by taking routine walks.

  “Sit down, Mom. And I’ll get everything together and on the table,” he told her as he washed his hands at the sink.

  She did as he suggested and he went to work putting plates, utensils and iced glasses on the table.

  “I talked to Quint’s mother yesterday,” Clara said as Jake heated the meat and vegetables in the microwave. “She said she was home watching the babies for Maura, while you went to a funeral for Abe’s neighbor.”

  “That’s right. Gertie O’Dell passed away and graveside services were held for her yesterday. I doubt you knew her. She—well, I don’t think the woman hardly ever got off her place. She was a recluse. Abe said she’d been his neighbor for nearly thirty years and he could count the times he’d talked to her on two hands.”

  “No. I don’t recall that name,” Clara said thoughtfully. “How old was the woman?”

  “Fifty-six, I believe.”

  A worrisome frown collected between Clara’s brows. “That’s only a few years older than me.”

  “That’s right. It’s unfortunate, but people of all ages die.”

  He carried a dish of potatoes and carrots over to the table, then went back for the roast.

  “What was wrong with her?”

  Jake wasn’t about to tell his mother that Gertie O’Dell had died from some sort of heart failure. Clara already considered herself an invalid. He didn’t want to add the notion that, like Gertie, she was headed toward her deathbed.

  “I’m not sure,” he said evasively. “Some sort of illness she’d had for a long time.”

  With everything on the table, he took a seat kitty-cornered to his mother’s chair and poured sweetened tea into their glasses.

  Clara spread a napkin across her lap. “I’m surprised you attended the funeral. Guess you made the effort for Abe’s sake.”

  He paused to look at her. “No. I made the effort for Gertie’s sake, Mom. I don’t do everything in my life just to make an impression or score points.”

  Clearly flustered by his retort, she clamped her lips together. “Well, you didn’t know the woman personally,” she pointed out.

  “Maybe not. But she was a fellow human being, a fixture in Abe’s neighborhood. Whenever she saw me pass, she would always give me a wave. And coming from Gertie that meant a hell of a lot. She hated most folks.”

  “Her family—”

  “She had none,” Jake interrupted. “Not any immediate family. Only one relative showed up for the funeral.”

  Clara’s expression was suddenly regretful as she looked at her son. “How awful,” she murmured.

  Jake sighed. “Yeah. That’s my thinking, too.”

  He didn’t go on to tell his mother about Rebecca Hardaway. She’d press him with questions that he couldn’t answer. Like why Gertie had left her estate to a niece who’d clearly never been a part of her life. At least, not while Gertie had been living in New Mexico. And from judging Rebecca’s age, he’d guess that had been as long or longer than the pretty blonde had been living.

  “Wonder what will happen to her estate?” Clara asked as she ladled food onto her plate. “I suppose with no husband or kids, some distant relative will put it up for sale.”

  The image of Rebecca drifted to the front of Jake’s mind, the way her blue eyes had glazed with tears, the sobs he’d felt racking her slender shoulders. He’d been a bit shocked when she’d fallen into his arms. Not that a crying woman was anything new to him. Down through the years, he’d seen plenty of waterworks sprout for all different reasons. And most of the time he had to admit that tears on a smooth pink cheek left him unaffected. There wasn’t a woman on the face of the earth who couldn’t be a good actress when she wanted to be and turning on the tears was just a part of her act.

  But Rebecca hadn’t been acting, he realized, and her emotional state continued to puzzle Jake. She’d said she’d never been to her aunt’s house before, but seeing it had disturbed her. She didn’t appear to have even known Gertrude or how she’d lived, so why had the woman’s death hit her so hard? None of it made sense to him. But then, Gertie had lived what most people would call a bizarre life. Maybe learning a
ll of that about her family member had been too much for the Texas wildflower, he considered.

  Jake had to admit he’d been disappointed that Rebecca had so quickly decided that she didn’t want Gertie’s property. As though it was all meaningless to her. For some reason he’d wanted to think she was a deeper sort of person than that. But then maybe he wasn’t being fair. Maybe she wasn’t in a position to care for the place, the way it deserved to be cared for. She obviously had a life back in Houston. She might even have a special man waiting for her return, he thought grimly. The lack of a ring didn’t necessarily mean anything nowadays. She might even have a husband.

  The idea bothered him far more than it should have.

  Trying his best to shake it away, he glanced up at his mother. “You’re probably right,” he replied to his mother’s comment. “And selling it won’t be much of an effort. The land joins up with Apache Wells. Abe would be glad to fork over a very fair price to make sure it becomes a part of his ranch, instead of watching it go to some developer.”

  “Maybe someone should give this information to Gertie’s relatives?” Clara suggested. “They’d probably be grateful to have someone drop a buyer into their lap.”

  When Rebecca Hardaway had spoken of finding a Realtor to deal with selling the place, he probably should have spoken up and told her that a Realtor wouldn’t be necessary. Abe would buy the property without batting an eye.

  But something had kept the words inside him. Selfishness? The hope that Rebecca Hardaway would be forced to stay in New Mexico longer than necessary? The hope that while she was here he’d get the chance to know her, spend time with her, maybe even get physically close to her?

  Dream on, Jake. Rebecca might have leaned that sexy little body against you once, but there won’t be a next time. If you do see her again, there won’t be any tears in her eyes and she’ll see you for just what you are—a cowboy who can offer her little more than a lusty roll in the hay.

  Picking up a steak knife, he sliced ruthlessly into the meat on his plate.

  “Maybe I’ll do just that, Mom.”

  Chapter Three

  At the same time, some twenty miles south in Ruidoso, Rebecca sat in a luxurious hotel suite. From her seat on the long moss-green couch, she could look out the plate-glass wall at the picturesque view of Sierra Blanca. Next to her right arm, a telephone sat on a polished end table and all she had to do was lift the receiver from the cradle and press a button to have a full course meal delivered to her room.

  But at the moment she wasn’t seeing the beauty of the tallest peak in the southern part of the state, or concerning herself over ordering dinner. She was thinking about Jake Rollins. Something she’d been doing ever since she’d driven away and left the man standing in front of her aunt’s house.

  So why don’t you stay on and make use of the property?

  With a bit of loving care this place could be a nice little home. But I guess a fancy lady like you would never settle for anything this simple.

  Today Rebecca had planned to get a list of things done. First of all, to ask around town and find a Realtor she could trust. Secondly, to contact the nearest animal shelter to find homes for the pets Gertrude had left behind. But Rebecca hadn’t attempted to do either of those things. She’d walked a short distance around town, ate lunch, returned to the hotel and for the past two hours sat wondering why Jake Rollins’s words continued to haunt her.

  It wasn’t like the man had anything to do with her life, she mentally argued. Up until yesterday, she’d never met him. Yet the things he’d said to her, the way he’d looked at her, had done something to her thinking.

  With a heavy sigh, she rose to her feet and walked across the room to where a gilt-edged mirror hung over a small accent table. The image showed a young woman dressed casually but fashionably in a pair of summer white jeans and a sleeveless cashmere top. Her blond hair was twisted into a sexy pleat and her face touched with just enough color to look pretty but not overdone.

  Her friends would tell her that she looked perfect, but that had come to mean very little to Rebecca. On the inside she felt far from perfect. And she didn’t understand why.

  Even before she’d learned about Gertrude and traveled here to New Mexico, she’d been feeling empty, as though spinning wheels were quickly carrying her to nowhere. Then yesterday, when she’d stood beside her aunt’s grave with hardly a soul there to tell the woman goodbye, a heavy sense of reality had stung her. She wasn’t sure why thoughts of missed opportunities and connections were upsetting her, but she couldn’t get rid of them.

  Across the room, her cell phone rang. The sound cut into her dark thoughts and with a heavy sigh, she walked over to collect the small instrument from where she’d left it on a low end table.

  Her mother’s name and number were illuminated on the front and she braced herself with a deep breath before she flipped the phone open and lifted it to her ear. Gwyn had been ringing the phone all day, but Rebecca had ignored her calls. She wasn’t ready to talk to the woman, but years of being a devoted daughter couldn’t be wiped away in a matter of days. And Gwyn deserved to know that she’d arrived in New Mexico safely.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Gwyn let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God you finally answered! Is everything all right?”

  Rebecca’s jaw tightened. “Is that question supposed to be some sort of joke? How could everything be all right? I just watched my aunt—an aunt I didn’t even know I had—be lowered into the ground!”

  “Now, Rebecca, honey, please let’s don’t start in about all of that now. Gertrude is gone. There’s no use talking about her anymore.”

  If it hadn’t been for disturbing the other hotel guests, Rebecca would have actually screamed into the phone. Instead, she tried to calm the rage boiling inside her. “Sure. Just forget her,” she said, in a voice heavy with sarcasm, “and get on with our neat little lives. The way you’ve seemed to do for the past thirty years.”

  There was a long stretch of silence and then Gwyn asked, “When are you coming home?”

  Clearly Gwyn was still refusing to open up about Gertrude and her indifferent attitude about her own flesh and blood caused something to suddenly click inside Rebecca. Feeling strangely calm, she said, “I’m not. At least, not for a good while. I have things to do here. And I want to make sure they’re done right.”

  Gwyn gasped. “What sort of things? What are you talking about?”

  “Listen, Mother, my aunt left everything she had in this world to me. And even though she’s gone now, she still deserves my attention. I owe her that much—” Emotions suddenly filled Rebecca’s throat, choking her. “That and so much more.”

  “But, Rebecca—she—your job—you’ll have to be getting back here to Houston soon!”

  “You worry about my job, Mother. You seem to love it much more than I do, anyway.”

  “Rebecca! You—”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I’m very busy. I’ve got to get off.”

  Rebecca hung up the phone, then purposely walked over to the closet and pulled out the luggage she’d brought with her. An hour later, she’d packed all her things, checked out of the hotel, and after purchasing a few items at the grocery store, headed north to Gertie’s place.

  As she drove northwest, out of the mountains and onto the desert floor of the Tularosa Basin, she picked up her cell phone and pushed a button that would connect her with her boss in Houston.

  “You’re going to do what?” the woman exclaimed loudly in her ear.

  Rebecca felt the ridiculous urge to smile, but forced herself not to. Even before her father had died, she’d been a responsible child, who’d grown into an even more responsible adult. She’d never done an impulsive thing in her life and she was shocked at how good it felt to be doing it now.

  “I need to take a leave, Arlene.”

  “Yes, but you said indefinitely! Surely this break you’re taking won’t require that much time! What will I do without you
? The Dallas show is coming up and then New York City. I have to have a buyer there! Otherwise—”

  Outside her car window, the sun was casting a purple and gold hue across the desert floor. She’d never seen anything so wild and beautiful. “Send Elsa. She knows what she’s doing and she’ll be more than happy to step into my shoes.”

  Arlene snorted and mouthed a curse beneath her breath. The woman’s reaction didn’t surprise Rebecca. Arlene was in her late fifties and had spent more than thirty years working for Bordeaux’s. Still single, she’d made the famous department store her life and believed that Rebecca and its other employees should, too.

  “Elsa doesn’t have your taste or finesse with people. I want you back here in two weeks. That’s all I can afford to give you, Rebecca.”

  The demanding ultimatum brought an angry flare to Rebecca’s nostrils. She’d given so much of herself, her life, to Bordeaux’s and all she could expect in return for her commitment was two weeks?

  “That’s not enough, Arlene. Not by a long shot.”

  Her retort must have shocked the woman because the line went silent. It stayed that way for so long that Rebecca actually pulled the phone away from her ear to see if the instrument was still receiving a tower signal.

  “What’s come over you, Rebecca?” the woman finally retorted. “I realize you must be grieving, but from what I understand this death was a distant relative. Surely you can put it behind you and get yourself focused on business again.”

  She was nearing the turnoff to Gertrude’s house and the road that eventually led to Apache Wells. Jake and the Cantrells had shown her more compassion in one afternoon than this woman had shown her in the six years she’d been working for Bordeaux’s. What did that say for the people she’d surrounded herself with?

  “Taking this time off is important to me, Arlene. If you feel you need to replace me permanently, I’ll understand. Just mail my final paycheck to my apartment.”