Clueless Cowboy

by Mary Connealy

  “Don’t you like Jake?” Stephie twisted her hands together.

  Emily regretted her shots at Jake even if he had them coming. “Of course I like him. If he wants to live like this, it’s his call, but I like to give him a hard time.”

  “You sound mad.” Stephie’s brow crinkled with worry.

  “He’s ruining a perfectly good mattress, but I’m not really mad.” She shot Jake a warning glance to back her up.

  Jake made a comical face at Stephie. “You mean she can be worse than this?”

  Stephie giggled.

  Emily managed a smile. “Go to bed, Jake.”

  “I’d like to take a shower.”

  “You shouldn’t. You should keep your shoulder dry.”

  “What about my poor mattress? I’ll get it dirty.” Jake grinned wickedly.

  For a second their eyes locked and her heart seemed to slow as she looked into the tempting warmth of his hot fudge eyes. She forced herself to look away. “Let me remove the bandages. I’ll replace them before you go to sleep. Don’t slip in the shower.”

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll faint?” His teasing brought her gaze back.

  “I’ll listen for a thud.”

  Jake laughed.

  As he disappeared down the hallway, Emily turned to Stephie. “You want to surprise Jake?”

  By the time Jake emerged from a long shower, Emily and Stephie had worked wonders. He walked into the room, wearing sweatpants and a blue robe. His right arm was out of its sleeve, cradled against his stomach. His hair was still dripping wet, like he hadn’t been capable of drying it. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was drawn with fatigue and pain.

  “Get into bed, Jake. I want to make sure you’re settled before we leave.” She knew she sounded gruff.

  Jake’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and he glanced at Stephie. “You don’t have to send me to bed like a child.”

  The urge to protect him was so strong she had to be rude to stop herself from holding him. “Just hurry up. I’ve still got hours of chores at home.” Emily squeezed every possible drop of poor-overworked-me into her remark.

  Jake repaid her with a long silence before he turned to his room. He stepped in the doorway, and Emily waited for his words of thanks for all her effort.

  “Where’d that come from?”

  “That old bed frame has been in the Barretts’ upstairs bed-room for years.” She was pretty proud of herself.

  “I ran home for the sheets. And that’s an old bedspread we don’t use anymore.” Stephie, vibrating with happiness, dashed between them as they stood at opposite ends of the short hallway.

  “Thanks.” His eyes flashed anger at Emily as he forced the word past his lips.

  Stephie danced up and took hold of Jake’s good arm. She pulled Jake down low enough to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I gave you my favorite sheets.”

  He turned to Stephie, and all his anger faded. “It looks wonderful. Thanks, honey.”

  How dare he be so gruff with her, then so kind to Stephie. “We’re going. Do you need anything else?”

  Stephie gave Jake a final grin and danced out the door, leaving them alone.

  Twelve

  He stepped close and bent near, the words for Emily only. “You’d better be planning to come over and make my bed every day and do my laundry. I told you I didn’t want any of this, and I’m tired of you nagging me every—”

  “Listen, you ungrateful—”

  The slap of a door reminded her they weren’t the only ones here. She glared at him as she spoke to Stephie. “What happened to Jake’s mail this afternoon?”

  Stephie came running, looking worried. “I dropped it out by the tree.”

  “Can you go and get it, honey?” She saw Jake’s expression and knew he had a few choice comments to make. Well, so did she.

  “Sure, be right back.”

  Emily followed Stephie to the front door. Then when she was out of hearing distance, she turned on Jake, who had followed her, glowering. “How dare you ask me to do your laundry after what you put me through today?”

  “What I put you through? I was the one under the tree. And don’t change the subject. This isn’t about the accident. It’s about your meddling.”

  “Of course it’s about the accident. What you call meddling is me trying to keep you from getting yourself killed. Any moron could see that tree wasn’t safe. It was barely hanging on the side of that hill.”

  “That tree looked like it had been there for years. How was I supposed to know it was so unstable?”

  Emily fought down her temper because she could see Jake was out on his feet. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow. I’ll take everything away I brought over. But for tonight, just get some rest.”

  Stephie came skipping into the house with a fistful of letters addressed to Jake. “Here’s your mail, Jake.” Her voice was so full of hope and sweetness, if that big ox yelled at her—

  “That’s great, Stephie. I’ll see you.”

  How could he be so nice to Stephie when he’d just been snarling at her? “Let’s go home, Stephie. Let Jake get some rest.”

  “Okay, good night.”

  “Good night. Thanks for everything.” He sounded like Mr. Perky.

  She glanced at the sun. It was after eight. She’d wasted a whole day keeping Jake Hanson in one piece. And she’d probably have to do it all over again tomorrow if he insisted on chopping wood.

  Of course he’d try again. He had to have wood. She thought of all the trouble he could get into and made a decision.

  ❧

  The crash almost knocked Jake out of bed.

  The house shook. Earthquake safety measures flashed through his sleep-soaked brain. He was on his feet, dragging on his pants despite his agonized muscles. The crash was followed by a roar. He thought of dams breaking as he raced around the side of the house. It was the worst natural disaster he could imagine.

  Emily.

  Driving a tractor taller than the first story of his house. Dumping wood out of a huge shovel mounted on the front of the bellowing machine. She backed away from the side of the house, leaving behind a small mountain of wood. She stopped the rolling monster and, leaving its motor roaring, jumped down from the cab and marched over to him.

  She jerked leather gloves off of her hands and tucked them behind her belt buckle. “I figured that would wake you up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  She yelled to be heard over the clamor of the diesel engine. “Now you’ve got enough wood to last until Christmas, supposing you live that long.”

  Emily had risked her life to save him. By way of thanks, he’d insulted her, yelled at her, and then thrown her out of his house. He’d given up trying to understand himself, deciding to apologize first thing this morning. He remembered that for about two seconds. “Take the wood yourself. I don’t need your help.”

  “What’s the matter, hotshot? Afraid you’ll be contaminated by wood cut with a chain saw and a log splitter and hauled with one o’ them new-fangled tractors?” She exaggerated her soft South Dakota drawl. Coated with sawdust and sweat, her shirt was soaking wet even though the morning was cool. She had to have been working for hours to do all of this. And she’d had chores left last night.

  He tried to imagine how incensed she must be to have worked this hard just to put him in his place. “Did you work all morning so you’d have an excuse to insult me?”

  “Leave the ranch work to people who know what they’re doing. You want exercise, stack the wood. You oughta be able to handle that.” She sounded so smug and superior.

  “I’m not taking that wood. I’m not taking anything from you.”

  “And I’m not going to let Stephie find you like that again.”

  “You did this for Stephie, huh? I don’t think so.”

  “Go back to sleep for a few more hours. I’ve been up since 5:00 a.m. Those are rancher hours.”

  “I stayed awake most of the night because my arm hurt. You’ve probably h
ad more sleep than I have.”

  Her eyes lost their fire. She’d been spoiling for a fight, and he hadn’t disappointed her. But there was her dratted compassion when he talked about pain.

  “Is it bad?”

  He loved that tone—the caretaker, the nurturer. No, he hated it when she went all soft and sweet. It was all manipulation. So why had he played on her sympathy? His irritation faded. Her gentle words drew his eyes to her lips.

  “Jake, I. . .” The words seemed to catch in her throat.

  “What, sweetheart? Tell me what you want.”

  She looked like she wanted to melt into him. “Have we ever been alone for ten seconds without fighting?”

  “I don’t think so.” Looking at Emily, he knew she didn’t just want his money and his status. She wanted the deepest part of him. And she wanted him to give with his eyes wide open. He hardened his heart.

  It must have shown on his face because trust faded from her innocent gaze. He was responsible for that and it struck him as the worst sin he’d ever committed. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her.

  She took two faltering steps backward, then turned and stumbled toward the tractor. She climbed on and drove away.

  He watched her disappear around the grove of trees that separated their homes. And he was left safely alone.

  Thirteen

  A week without a crisis.

  Stephie was at Jake’s all the time now. Emily had given up pretending he was dangerous to her little sister. He came over to eat at least once a day, and he and Emily were polite to each other for Stephie’s sake.

  He’d kept the camping stove. Stephie said he was eating better. Emily had never run her ranch and home so efficiently. She did her chores and started inventing new ones. Working hard kept her mind off her neighbor. Or at least it kept her away from her neighbor.

  She’d never told him about the conversation she’d overheard in town and she wasn’t going to. Jake knew his past was going to catch up to him sometime. What difference would it make when?

  He was healing and he’d started planting a garden. How could that be dangerous?

  Stephie finished her chores after lunch, then headed over to Jake’s. Emily wiped pouring sweat off her forehead and took a long drink from her battered gallon-water jug, taking a break from scooping that last few bushels of corn out of an otherwise empty bin. She was sweltering but grateful for the work out of the direct sun. It had been blistering hot all day, unseasonable for early June.

  “Emily, come quick!” Stephie came flying over the hill from Jake’s.

  Emily’s stomach lurched.

  “Something’s wrong with Jake.”

  Emily grabbed the top of the small round door in the side of the bin and swung herself through the opening, nearly knocking her head off in her haste. She landed and started running.

  Jake was on his hands and knees in the middle of his garden.

  Emily knelt beside him. She noticed he was badly sunburned. From the look of the spaded ground, he’d dug up a huge garden bed.

  Jake groaned and raised his head as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

  “Stephie, run into Jake’s house and get me a big glass of water.” Emily helped steady him as she tried to stand. “We need to get you inside.”

  He nodded. Emily dragged him to his feet. His legs showed all the strength of cooked spaghetti. With Jake leaning heavily on Emily, they made it to the house just as Stephie came out with a dripping tumbler full of water.

  Stephie pulled the screen door wide.

  “Thanks,” Emily said.

  She glanced up at Jake and saw his throat work silently. Too dry to speak even the simplest words.

  Stephie held out the glass of water, and Jake reached for it with shaking hands.

  Emily helped guide it to his lips.

  He sipped twice, took a deep breath, and then finished the water in one long drink. He managed a ragged, “Thanks.”

  “Let’s get you into a cool bath.”

  He stumbled forward toward the bathroom. As they walked, Emily noticed the improvement in the house. Once the work necessary for survival was done, like the roof, Jake had turned his attention to the inside. Old carpet had been torn up, uncovering solid oak floors.

  As they passed the open bedroom door, she saw Jake had kept the bed. He had brought furniture down from the attic that matched it—two chests of drawers and an end table. He had cleaned the whole set and polished it. They gave the room a lived-in look, and for the first time Emily wondered if he might stay.

  Emily ran her hand across his brow. Hot and dry. Not good. Heat exhaustion. “Jake, when you’re working in the sun and you stop sweating, it’s a danger signal.”

  Jake reacted with such a small nod of his head Emily couldn’t bear to lecture him further.

  Emily guided him into the bathroom and twisted the cold water knob on the tub. She switched the shower head on. She wished it wasn’t so cold, afraid it might be too much of a shock, but Jake didn’t have any hot water to add to the cold. She helped him take his books off, then steadied him as he stepped over the rim and under the stream of ice cold water.

  Jake yelped at the icy blast, then sank into the tub under the running water. Emily left the water on so he’d get good and soaked.

  What if Stephie hadn’t run over when she did? Emily looked up at her little sister. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her face was flushed red from her long run in the intense heat. As Stephie panted, trying to catch her breath, Emily worried she’d hyperventilate.

  “Stephie, would you go to the kitchen and get Jake more water?” Emily felt stupid for asking, considering the gushing water soaking her as she bent over Jake, but she hoped Stephie’s wild fear would ease if she could help.

  Stephie grabbed at the glass on the sink.

  “No hurry, Steph. Jake’s fine.”

  Jake’s head came up and worry creased his brow. “Stephie, I’m sorry I scared you. I promise I won’t work in the heat like that again. I know better, but. . .but. . .it’s June in South Dakota. I never considered it could be dangerous.”

  Stephie listened but didn’t lose the frantic look.

  He shrugged his crimson shoulders, and although he didn’t let it show on his face, Emily knew each gesture tugged at his damaged skin. “I’m sorry I scared you. How about if I let Emily teach me all about ranching so I won’t ever scare you again?”

  Some of the panic faded from Stephie’s eyes. “I’ll get you some water if you want me to.”

  “I’d like that. Thanks.”

  Stephie hurried away.

  Emily turned to Jake. He held her gaze for a split second before he let his whole body sag against the back of the tub. “I did it again. She’s been my only friend. I hate that I scared her. I deserve anything you say, and I’m too weak to run. So I’ll just sit quietly while you tear me apart.”

  Scolding him wasn’t any use when he was all docile like this. She decided to give him a few minutes to regain his strength. She glanced around the bathroom for a washcloth. Of course there were none. The bathroom was remodeled though—new fixtures, new plumbing, new walls and flooring, the works. It was beautiful. Jake must have slipped out with his trailer and resupplied his building material.

  Emily knelt on the bathroom floor by the tub. “Jake, you may be a rotten pioneer, but you’re a great plumber and a talented carpenter. There’s no chance you might forget about getting back to nature and just go with your strengths is there?”

  His eyes widened with surprise. “Come on, don’t compliment me. I want you to treat me like the worm I am. Let’s have it, the whole sermon. Get it over with while I’m sitting down.”

  She hunted through a cabinet, found a towel, and brought it back to his side. The water was getting deep and she shut it off. She dunked the towel in and bathed Jake’s neck and face. “Just relax and cool down for a while. And don’t worry. I’m planning to yell long and hard as soon as I’m sure you’re going to live.” She smi
led and he dug up a wobbly grin of his own from somewhere.

  Stephie came back with the water glass.

  Jake reached a dripping arm over Emily’s head. The water trickled down her neck. The shocking cold startled a squeak out of her, and he grinned. He swallowed the water in three gulps and handed the glass back to Stephie.

  She quickly offered to get more.

  “I’m really starting to feel better, thank you.”

  “I’m glad.” Stephie grinned.

  Emily wondered how this love had sprung up between the two of them. Stephie’s face was still beet red and dripping. Her flying braid straggled, sticking to her sweat-soaked cheeks and neck.

  “Come here, Steph.” Emily wrung the towel out and wiped it over Stephie’s face. Stephie sighed. Emily wiped her own face with the chilly cloth. “That does feel nice.”

  Stephie nodded, her panic forgotten.

  Emily’s own stomach was still twisting over “almosts” and “what ifs.” “Now, I want you to go into the living room and leave Jake and me alone for a while. Is that okay?”

  “Sure. Are you going to start teaching him about ranching right now?”

  Ah, the innocence of youth. “That’s right. Jake and I are going to have a long talk.” Emily wanted Stephie to be well clear of the “talk.” No sense having any witnesses.

  Stephie skipped away, her fears forgotten. Emily knew, as always, Stephie believed her big sister could fix anything.

  One look at Jake told her he hadn’t missed the tone. She admired his bravery as he braced himself.

  ❧

  Jake wasn’t going to win any fights with her as long as she had him dunked in a bathtub. It made him feel about two-years old.

  He took a deep breath and started before she could. “I blew it. I hate myself for scaring Stephie. I’m the lowest slug on earth and I know better than to let myself get so dehydrated and burnt, but I’ve spent so much time working in the tropics that I didn’t think about a South Dakota afternoon in early June being dangerous. So, I’m an idiot who thinks he’s a hotshot. There, I beat you to it.”