The Rancher's Homecoming

by Arlene James

  Callie turned away to hide her interest. A knock at the front door had her hurrying into the living room to let in Dr. Stark Burns, the local veterinarian.

  “Rex around?”

  “He’s on the phone.”

  “Any chance I can see Wes? I cleaned up before I came over.”

  “I guess it’ll be okay, but no physical contact, if you don’t mind.”

  “I understand.”

  She led the tall, lanky, dark-haired animal doctor into the kitchen, where he beamed a smile at Wes without getting too close to the table where Wes sat.

  “Now, that’s a sight I’m not apt to forget anytime soon.”

  Wes laughed. “I’m starting a new trend. Next thing I know, you’ll be shaving your head.”

  Burns ran a hand through glossy black hair that showed no glint of silver, though he had to be at least forty. “Yeah. No. I suspect we’d find out I have a pointed head.”

  Wes laughed again and changed the subject. “How’s the herd?”

  “Preliminary exam looks good. Going to take a few days to do a detailed inspection. Just thought I’d let Rex know I’d gotten started and see if he wants to ride along on Monday.”

  “He could be a while,” Wes warned, glancing into the dining room.

  “Well, just tell him to give me a call,” Burns said, hanging his thumbs in his belt loops. “I won’t keep you. It was good to see you, Wes.”

  “You, too, Stark.”

  “Take care now.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Callie said, and the veterinarian nodded, signaling with his hand for her to go through the doorway first. He fell in beside her in the living room. Then, to her surprise, when they reached the front door, he reached around and held it open for her, giving her a direct look.

  Ducking her head, Callie stepped out onto the porch and listened to the sound of the door being pulled closed behind him. He walked to the edge of the porch and turned to face her, leaning a shoulder against the post.

  “Wes doing okay?”

  “It’s hard to say at this point.”

  Burns nodded. “Horrible disease, cancer.”

  “Yes.”

  “Rex has sure done a fine job with this place, though.”

  “That’s what I’m hearing.”

  “Actually,” Burns said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one long forefinger, “the ranch seems to be running like a top.” He linked his fingers and let his hands drop. “Frankly, Wes hasn’t been on his game since Gloria died. It’s been three years since I surveyed this herd, and when Rex found out, he scheduled a full inspection. He’s a natural at this business.”

  “Good to know,” Callie said carefully, though why Burns was telling her this she couldn’t imagine.

  “Any chance he’ll be staying to take over?”

  Callie shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him that. I’m just hired help around here.”

  Burns grinned. He was a handsome man in a lean, rugged fashion. “That’s not what I’m hearing.”

  Appalled, Callie blinked. “I don’t care what you’ve heard. That’s the fact of it.”

  The doc folded his arms, staring at her from beneath the crag of his brow. His eyes, she realized, were a deep, dark blue.

  “You sit together in church.”

  “So? He drives me because I don’t have a car. It’s a condition of my employment.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m told your little girl calls him ‘Daddy.’”

  “That’s not true!” But she would, given the least encouragement.

  “So you’re not interested in him at all?” Burns asked skeptically.

  “I cook and clean around here,” Callie said, aware that her voice shook. “I take care of Wes. That’s all.”

  Stark Burns turned and stepped off the porch, his booted feet thudding on the walkway. “Didn’t answer the question,” he commented dryly, strolling through the trees.

  Callie clamped her jaw, fighting tears. She’d given the only answer that she could. Whirling, she stomped across the porch and swept through the door. She met Rex moving through the living room.

  “Did Stark leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry I missed him.” He frowned, his gaze narrowing. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Dad says Stark wants me to call him. Did he say anything else?”

  “Yeah,” she snapped. “He said you’re a natural at ranching and have the Straight Arrow running like a top.”

  Rex straightened, his eyes widening. “And that has you upset?”

  She grimaced. “No, of course not.”

  Rex smiled. “You know, as a boy, I thought it was all physical labor, but there’s more mental aspect in the job than I realized.”

  “I’m sure,” Callie muttered, brushing by him.

  “Hang on,” Rex said, catching her by the arm. “What did Dr. Burns say to upset you?”

  Callie made herself calm down. Putting on a smile, she shook her head. “Nothing. He just wanted to know if you’re interested in riding along when he inspects the herd on Monday.”

  “I’ll call him later,” Rex said. “Right now I need to do some research on an old case that’s reopened. It’s what we lawyers call ‘found money.’”

  Callie tilted her head, asking, “How’s that?”

  Smiling, Rex spread his hands. “It bills at four hundred dollars an hour.”

  The figure boggled her mind. “Then please don’t let me keep you.” Callie turned and walked into the dining room.

  Four hundred dollars an hour. To her that sounded like confirmation that Rex would never consider staying around to run the Straight Arrow.

  * * *

  Stark Burns had always struck Rex as a likeable fellow, educated, knowledgeable, hardworking. And single. Suddenly Rex wondered if he ought to be worried about that single part. He’d never thought much about it before, but Stark had kept Callie out on the porch for several minutes on Friday afternoon, and she hadn’t quite been the same since. When Rex entered a room, she left it. If he sat down next to her, she got up, and on Sunday morning she actually argued for staying home from church.

  “I just think Wes ought not to be alone,” she mumbled, her gaze fixed on the breakfast dishes that she carried to the sink.

  “He was fine on Wednesday when we went riding.”

  “If you’re worried about your father showing up again,” Wes said, “there’s an easy fix for that. I just won’t answer the door. You can even put up the sign, if it makes you feel better.”

  Dr. Shorter had provided them with a quarantine sign saying that a cancer patient with a compromised immune system in the house could receive only prescreened visitors. Wes had refused to have it fastened to the door, claiming that it wasn’t necessary, and at this point it probably wasn’t, though it would be after his next treatment. Rex understood that Wes didn’t want to deal with Stuart Crowsen. He couldn’t help wondering if Wes had noticed any particularity in the way Stark Burns had dealt with Callie on Friday, but he couldn’t think of a way to ask without betraying his own interest in her.

  Frustrated, Rex got up from the table, saying, “I’ll put up the sign.”

  Callie sighed, but she didn’t argue. He tacked the sign to the front door and went upstairs to get dressed. When he came back down again, freshly shaved and wearing dark jeans with a brown suit jacket and a white shirt, his best boots and a brown felt hat—funny how he’d started to feel underdressed without the cowboy hat lately—Callie and Bodie waited.

  Wearing white leggings and a white eyelet blouse beneath a short denim jumper, Callie looked neat and wholesome. Beautiful. Especially with Bodie, decked out in a bright yellow sunflower dress, lolling in the crook of her arm. As soon as she saw him,
Bodie launched herself at him, flinging her whole little body in his direction with such determination that Callie almost dropped her.

  “Whoa!” Rex caught her in both hands. “Sunshine, you’re going to smash that pretty face if you’re not careful.” He gathered her to him and smiled. “What’s that in your hair?” He’d noticed that her fair hair seemed to be thickening lately. As if she understood every word, Bodie reached up and pulled the silk sunflower from her hair. Rex laughed, but Callie scolded her.

  “Bodie!” She snatched the flower clip from her daughter’s hand and began combing the baby’s hair with her fingers. Sliding the clip into place once more, she fixed it and admonished Bodie not to pull it out again. “Leave the pretty alone.”

  Bodie gave her mom a cheeky grin, pointedly displaying her teeth.

  “Has she got new teeth coming in?” Rex asked, shocked to see the glimmer of white on her gums.

  “She does.”

  “Well, look at you, little Miss Overachiever,” Rex teased, jostling the baby higher in his arms. Bodie giggled, hunched her shoulders and made a grab for his hat brim. “Uh-uh.” Laughing, he dropped her to hip level. Bodie promptly clamped her teeth down on the lapel of his suit jacket.

  “Bodie,” Callie scolded, prying her off Rex and taking her back.

  “Adorable,” Rex told Bodie, chucking her under the chin and very nearly getting his finger bitten. She literally snapped her jaws shut just short of his skin.

  Finally, Callie laughed. “Be careful for the next few days.” She dug in her bag and found a bright orange teething ring, which Bodie went after with great enthusiasm.

  Bodie fussed all the way to church. Her front was wet with slobber by the time they pulled up in the dusty parking lot of Countryside Church, despite the soft bib that Callie had fastened around her neck.

  The pinkish brick walls of the church, white eaves and cross-shaped front windows needed softening, and not for the first time Rex thought that the place could use some landscaping. Maybe he’d see to it. Some potted evergreens and brightly colored flowers would go a long way toward beautifying the place.

  Before he could ask Callie what she thought of the idea, she practically snatched Bodie out of his arms and hurried into the church. Figuring that she wanted to change the little one after dropping her off in the nursery, he shrugged, pocketed the keys and followed, smiling and nodding at others making their way inside.

  He removed his hat under the overhang and held open the door for an elderly couple, the Taylors. Mr. Taylor asked about his father, and then, “Where are your girls?”

  Rex couldn’t help smiling. His girls. He liked that. “Callie and Bodie are already inside.”

  Others greeted him as he made his way through the small foyer and into the white-on-white sanctuary with its painted woods, brass accents and clear, sun-filled windows. Rex slipped into the usual pew, leaving room for Callie. She liked to sit on the end in case she was called to the nursery. With one paid worker and sometimes a dozen or so children, the church depended on volunteers to help out, and parents with children who used the nursery were always on the list.

  The prelude music started, but Callie didn’t appear as expected. Rex looked around, thinking that she’d gotten hung up in the nursery. Then he spotted her sitting several rows back and to the side. He motioned to her, but she looked away. Puzzled, he took his hat in hand, got up and went to her. She looked around uncomfortably as he eased past her and dropped down onto the pew beside her.

  “You shouldn’t,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “You should go back,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “There’s talk,” she said out of the side of her mouth.

  “Talk? About us?”

  She nodded and looked away.

  Where are your girls? He looked around. No one really seemed to be paying them any mind, though the pastor and a couple deacons had their heads together.

  “So? It’s nothing bad, is it?”

  Callie rocked gently in her seat, not looking at him, her lips compressed. Finally, she shrugged. Rex debated. He could get up and move, or he could stay and stake a claim, more or less. He thought of Stark Burns and A. G. Carruthers and Ben Dolent and other men who seemed to have their eyes on her. Maybe he wasn’t sticking around War Bonnet. And maybe, just maybe, he was.

  He decided that he wasn’t going anywhere, not today, anyway.

  Crossing his legs, he shoved his hat onto his knee and leaned back, his arms stretched out along the edge of the pew. Callie turned wide, questioning eyes on him. Just to be sure she got the message, he wrapped his hand around her shoulder and pulled her closer. She let out a gust of breath, but he saw the smile lurking about her lips and moved his hand to the curve of her neck. Bowing her head, she stiffened, but then she suddenly relaxed against him.

  It was a good thing they were in church. Otherwise, he’d be kissing her.

  Rex grinned and realized with a shock that—despite his father’s illness, the utter chaos of his career, the failures of his personal life and the challenges of keeping the ranch going—he’d never been happier. He actually enjoyed the ranch work. Yes, the physical labor required sometimes exhausted him to the point that he often couldn’t pull off his own boots at night. That was only a part of it, however.

  Running an operation the size of Straight Arrow Ranch required organization, planning, knowledge, constant education and hands-on leadership. He’d started this job wondering who he was saving the ranch for. It hadn’t seemed likely that he or either of his sisters would ever want any part of it. Keeping the ranch going had been nothing more than incentive for Wes to keep fighting his cancer. Now...

  Now Rex came home at the end of the day satisfied with his labors, content to eat a fine meal and collapse on the couch, happy to let Callie fuss over him and simply sit in the same room with her. He loved playing with Bodie and helping dress her in her jammies and carry her up to bed. He treasured the way she reached for him, even when he was filthy from the field and sporting a day’s growth of beard.

  Now he was starting to dread having to turn over the reins to his dad again. One day, Rex knew he could reclaim them, but he wouldn’t hope for that because it would mean diminishing his father. On the other hand, maybe he should set up a practice in town and stay on at the ranch. Looking at Callie, feeling her snug against his side, he began to feel that he was finally on the right path.

  * * *

  “Rex, we need to talk to you.”

  Callie glanced from the pastor to the head deacon and felt her stomach drop. Oh, why hadn’t she made Rex take the talk about them more seriously? The very last thing she wanted to do was start gossip about the Billings household.

  “Won’t take long,” the deacon said, nodding politely at Callie. She tried to take comfort from that.

  “Sure, sure,” Rex said, his hand warm and heavy in the small of her back. “Hon, you go and get the baby. I’ll be along directly.”

  Hon? Callie didn’t know whether to stomp his toe or kiss his cheek. Because she didn’t know what his play was here, she did neither, turning blindly into the hallway that led to the church nursery. Along the way, she heard whispers and the name Crowsen. Had her father started the rumors? That didn’t seem like him, but she’d never seen him this angry, so she really couldn’t say what he’d do. Several people stopped her to inquire about Wes’s health and to say they were praying for him. She reported on his condition, smiled and thanked them for their concern, but her heart beat so hard and fast that she could barely hear the sound of her own voice.

  This was bad. Whatever was happening, she knew in her heart of hearts that it was bad and somehow she was the cause of it.

  Cravenly, she took her time getting Bodie’s things together. She changed Bodie’s diaper and bib, the teething dr
ool having soaked the first one. When she couldn’t dawdle any longer, when only she and Bodie remained in the now-darkened space, she carried her daughter into the foyer of the small church and sat down in one of two mostly ornamental chairs flanking the interior door.

  The place felt empty, though she knew the custodian was probably still shutting off lights and locking doors while Rex met with the head deacon and pastor in the latter’s office. She sat for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, letting Bodie empty a water bottle. Uncomfortable with the idea of nursing Bodie there in the church foyer, Callie contemplated going out to the truck, but the heat would be unbearable.

  Minutes ticked away. Bodie grew fussier. Callie was wondering if the ladies’ room had been locked when she heard a door open and the sound of footsteps in the hallway to her left. Bodie sat on the floor between her mother’s feet, and she recognized the sound of Rex’s voice the instant she heard it.

  “I’ll speak to Dad as soon as I get home,” he said.

  “We hate to trouble him,” the pastor replied.

  “Should’ve taken his advice to begin with,” opined the deacon.

  Had Bodie been able to walk, she’d have been halfway across the floor by the time the men reached the foyer. As it was, she moved as fast as she could manage on her hands and knees, fast enough that it took Callie three steps to catch her, bending at the waist, arms outstretched. All three men laughed at the sight. Rex caught the baby in his hands just as Callie swung her up off the floor. Bodie squealed in delight, catching him by the shirtfront and basically climbing him until she could get her hands around his neck.

  “She don’t like you much,” the deacon teased.

  “This is my baby girl,” Rex said, blowing raspberries against her cheek. Bodie laughed then abruptly switched to squalls.

  “She’s a hungry baby girl,” Callie said, taking Bodie from him and wondering if he’d even heard what he’d said. My baby girl.

  He picked up his hat from a side table and slid his arm around Callie’s waist, saying, “Let’s go home.”

  “Sorry to keep you so long,” the pastor told them apologetically as they moved toward the door.