The Rancher Takes a Cook

by Misty M. Beller

  “Miss Stewart, won’t you join us for a while? My son has been regaling me with stories from the cattle drive.”

  Anna wracked her brain for a reason to leave the room, careful to keep her eyes diverted from the younger man standing on the left. Finally, she grasped at what she hoped was an acceptable excuse. “Thank you, sir, but I need to work on lunch preparations in the kitchen. I’m sure the men are hungry from the trail. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Ah, yes, of course,” the older man responded, nodding. Anna seized her escape opportunity.

  In the kitchen, she flew into action. The men most likely would be starved from the trail and would appreciate something other than the beans and jerky they had probably packed in their saddle bags. She didn’t have time to prepare a hot meal from scratch for so many men, so it would have to be a bit of unusual variety.

  She sliced ham onto a plate and thick wedges of bread, thankful now she had spent yesterday afternoon slaving in the hot kitchen to make fresh loaves. She would need plenty for these new mouths. Pulling out cold fried chicken and apple pies from the last night’s meal, she scanned the pantry for what else she could feed the men on short notice. Grabbing the basket of vegetables from the corner, she sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, then laid them out on a plate and opened several jars of green beans.

  Now for something to drink. These cowboys seemed to be obsessed with coffee, the extra strong variety. After two months of nothing but black coffee on the trail, though, she didn’t have the heart to serve it for their first meal at home. Milk seemed a bit too juvenile for strapping cowboys. Scanning the pantry shelves, her eyes lit on the yellow lemons overflowing from a wicker basket. Lemonade was the perfect thing on a hot summer day.

  Anna finished setting out the plates and poured lemonade in each of the men’s cups. She didn’t have an exact head count for the new cowboys, and she wasn’t sure if Monty and his men had come in from the pasture, so she set a place at every chair around the monstrous table. Looking around to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, Anna nodded silent approval then squared her shoulders and marched to the front door to ring the bell that would signal the hungry men to stampede into the dining room.

  And stampede they did. Anna stood by the door as cowboys raced from every direction to form a line in front of the water pump, emerging from the other side with shiny brown faces and damp black hair. Dust still covered their vests and chaps, but they strode to the porch. The sight of the men approaching jolted Anna from her fascination with the scene, and she scurried back into the house to prepare for their arrival.

  Each of the cowboys shuffled to stand behind a chair, Monty and Edward among them, and waited for the entire group to assemble. Jacob O’Brien was among them and strolled to the chair on her left, at the end of the table. Anna’s shoulders tensed. He seemed to be ignoring her, though. When Mr. O’Brien entered the room, chairs scraped the floor as they all sat. Every head bowed, and Mr. O’Brien thanked the Lord for the safe return of all who had gone on the drive. Anna marveled again at the manners these tough cowboys displayed.

  At the “Amen, ” the men dove into the food with more than their usual fervor. She glanced at Aunt Lola on her right. The older woman eyed the wild display as well, a grin tugging her mouth. Anna hoped there would be enough food to go around. Should she slice more bread? But the men were beginning to slow as clattering forks and chewing took over.

  Sitting back to wipe his face with a cloth napkin, Mr. O’Brien remarked, “So, Jacob tells me you boys had a few close calls on the trip.”

  “Si,” answered an older man across the table. “The old Shawnee trail was pretty grown up in places, so the dogies would spread out in the brush. Then a big storm hit before we made it to the Red River. It rained for tres dias and the River, she was rough. We lost too many young ones there, and it took a few days for the herd to become strong again.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it, Juan.” A contemplative expression spread over Mr. O’Brien’s face. “How did you fare when you passed through the farming country?”

  “Not so good.”

  Anna turned at the strong voice from the end of the table on her left. Jacob O’Brien spoke for the first time that night. He leaned back in his chair, blue eyes relaxed as he gazed at his father. He’d shaved before the meal, revealing a strong jaw and chin. His face was tanned, but not nearly as chocolate as his Mexican companions. The skin where his beard had been was almost as tanned as the rest of his face.

  “They weren’t too keen on so much traffic coming through their pastures, especially when some of the cows knocked down a few fences.”

  That seemed to be all he was going to say on the topic, so another of the cowboys across the table jumped in. “A group of the farmers came at us with las pistols, but Jacob calmed them down with quick talking and gifts.” The Mexican turned to Jacob and grinned.

  “Gifts?” Mr. O’Brien quirked a brow.

  “I gave them a few head of cattle for their trouble, then they seemed fine.”

  The same cowboy across the table continued, “After that, we stayed away from the fences and kept the cattle moving. By the time we reached Kansas, though, the herd was footsore and tired.”

  After the meal, Monty called orders to the men in Spanish while Aunt Lola helped Anna carry dishes into the kitchen. As Anna returned to the dining room, Jacob wrapped an arm around the older woman and planted a kiss in her strawberry grey hair. “It’s awfully good to be home, Aunt Lola. You look more beautiful than I remember.”

  The older woman swatted him playfully. “Your eyes are blind from the sun. And it’s the food you missed, not this old biddy,” she teased.

  Just then, Jacob’s gaze stopped on Anna in the doorway, and he stepped back a bit. “The food was good, ma’am. I’m much obliged.”

  With that, he settled his hat on his wavy brown hair and strode past her. He soared a head taller than her as he moved by. She couldn’t deny the fact that of all the compliments Anna had received on her cooking, none had warmed her stomach like this man’s simple words.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jacob avoided the house as much as possible over the next few days. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be home, but the pretty young woman in the kitchen made his stomach do flips. And it wasn’t something he was used to. For so many years, the only woman he’d spent much time around was Aunt Lola. Unless the women he met at church on Sundays counted, but he didn’t stay in their presence any longer than he had to. Some people called him a loner, he was sure. Truth was, he was more comfortable and alive with the cattle and cowboys than around strangers in town. Monty and his family were like brothers to Jacob, and ranching ran in his blood. The long days and hard work were part of the life.

  And now, sitting atop his horse studying the herd, Jacob’s chest surged with pride. Their herd size had gone down some since they’d taken a thousand head to Kansas, but most of what was left were cows due to calve in the spring, so their stock count would more than double.

  Marshall stamped his hoof and flicked at a fly. He patted the horse on the shoulder. “Hey boy, you gettin’ bored? How ’bout we go look for strays by the river?”

  Jacob reined the horse alongside Monty and told the man his plans. Even though Jacob was part owner of the ranch and rode with the cowpunchers every day, Monty was still the foreman and was responsible for all the cowboys. Jacob respected the man’s leadership and instincts and considered him a true friend.

  As he neared the river, Jacob slowed the horse to a walk and peered through the thicker brush where the longhorns liked to hide. Bordering the woods were scrawny oaks and eucalyptus trees with cow-itch vine and more weeds than he could count growing up around and between them. He was so focused on scanning through the trees to his right, he almost missed the horse and rider on his left next to the river’s edge.

  “Hello,” Miss Stewart’s soft voice came from atop the Appaloosa mare he’d learned to ride on all those years ago. She appeared comfortabl
e in the saddle, with the late morning sun illuminating her face.

  Something in his chest tightened. “Howdy.” He touched the brim of his hat and reined in Marshall. The last thing he wanted was to hang around this woman in such a secluded area, but he couldn’t simply ignore her. They might live on a ranch in the middle of Texas, but Pa had taught him decent manners.

  “You lost out here?” His voice was a bit brusquer than he’d intended, but his defenses rose in an effort to maintain his distance. She was a pretty thing to be sure, with those piercing brown eyes and long dark lashes hiding under the brim of her bonnet. Her worn brown dress didn’t do much to disguise her slender waist or the fact that she curved in all the right places.

  “I’m afraid you’ve caught me,” she said with a sheepish grin. “This is my favorite spot by the river. I like to come here after morning chores any chance I get. I’ve never known a place so peaceful.”

  The shy smile she displayed softened Jacob’s resolve a tiny bit. He nodded in acknowledgement and stared off across the river. “It’s a nice spot. One of the prettiest on the Guadalupe.”

  “Is that the river’s name? The Guadalupe?” She let the word roll across her tongue, as if tasting it for flavor. It came out in a rhythmic melody, like the sound the river made as it flowed over rocks a little further downstream.

  He spoke before his mind realized what his mouth was doing. “I used to swim here when I was a boy. Ma would bring lunch and we’d have a picnic, just the two of us.” So many times Jacob had gone back to those memories. The familiar ache tugged at his chest.

  “It sounds like you had a wonderful mama.” Miss Stewart’s voice broke into his reflections. He glanced at her earnest expression, but there wasn’t sympathy there, only understanding. She’d lost her mother, too. Could she help bear his burden? Jacob turned away from her intense gaze. Time to get this conversation back in a less emotional direction.

  “So I hear your brother has the makings of a pretty good cowhand.”

  Her face brightened at his words. “Do you think so? Monty says he’s learning faster than most, but he’s just a boy still.”

  Jacob leveled her with a strong look. “He’s fifteen years old. And in Texas, that’s old enough to be a man and then some. The boys say he’s doin’ a fine job learnin’ to rope, and he seems to have a way with the ornery cattle. His demeanor is calming so animals aren’t afraid of him.” Much like you, Jacob added to himself. “You should be real proud of him.”

  Anna’s expression turned soft as he spoke and pride shone in her eyes. “He is good with animals, isn’t he? Just like Papa was.” The last part was spoken so softly he almost missed it.

  “Your Pa is…gone?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He didn’t want to know anything about this woman. Not at all.

  “He died fighting Sherman’s army after they burned our home in Columbia.” A touch of bitterness tinged her voice, and he could tell the wound was still raw. No wonder, though. After losing both parents and her home, she was an orphan.

  He mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Jacob had never been good with words, and his mind didn’t seem to be ready to change that fact now. But Anna seemed to understand what he meant to say as she gazed at him with those liquid, amber-brown eyes.

  Then, her demeanor changed as she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I’m glad Edward’s doing well. He’s always been a quick learner, and he’ll work hard for you.” Gathering her reins, Anna sighed. “I suppose it’s time for me to head back. Today’s laundry day.” She gave him a wry grin.

  He was about to let her go, then remembered the barking he’d heard that morning. “There’s coyote in the area. Did you bring a gun?”

  She raised a dark eyebrow at him. “No, I didn’t think I’d need one.”

  He shot her a scowl. “You always need a gun out here. Ya never know what animals you’ll come across. Men, too. With all the soldiers coming home from the east, you never know who you’ll meet up with. And not all of them are honorable.” A surge of protectiveness rose in him toward this woman—barely more than a girl—who had lost so much. “Even if you can’t shoot a gun, you should at least carry it.”

  Her back stiffened. “Of course I can shoot a gun.”

  He ignored the look of indignation she shot him. “Then you’d better start carrying one. I’ll ride back with you as far as the herd.” Without looking at her, he turned Marshall and started in the direction of the cattle. His skin tingled from the daggers she was likely shooting at the back of his head, but he didn’t stop. Stubborn woman. She couldn’t see what was good for her if it bit her on the nose.

  After a moment, the thud of Bandita’s hooves sounded behind him. His tone had been harsh. Should he apologize? But he was just trying to protect her. He slowed Marshall enough to allow them to catch up. Anna rode beside him without speaking. Her posture in the saddle was excellent. She didn’t ride side-saddle like most city girls but sat astride, the extra material in her dress covering her legs and draped across the mare’s rump.

  The silence was stiff between them, and at last he made an effort toward a truce.

  “How do you like ’Dita?” he asked, nodding toward the Appaloosa mare.

  Anna’s shoulders relaxed, and some of the tension left her face. “She’s wonderful.” She reached down to rub the mare’s neck. “She’s so responsive to the touch and loves to move out as much as I do.”

  He bit back a grin. It seemed he’d found a topic she was enthusiastic about. He nodded. “She’s the horse I grew up riding. She taught me how to cut calves, and we had more than a couple good runs. She’s a fast one for sure.”

  Anna cut him a sideways look, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “This is usually the spot where we get to canter.”

  A grin tickled his jaw. “Well don’t let me hold you back.” But she was off before he finished speaking. Jacob gave Marshall his head and a hard squeeze, and the gelding responded with a forward leap, as eager to catch the mare as Jacob was. He allowed the grin to break loose.

  Anna held Bandita to a steady canter, and he soon caught up. They stayed in an even lope until the herd of longhorn came into sight. Reining the horses back to a walk, Anna let out an exhilarated breath. “Boy, that felt good.”

  This captivating woman drew him despite the call of his work. But the other cowboys had already stopped to gawk at them with curious stares.

  “Thank you for the escort, Mr. O’Brien. I’ll bid you good day now.”

  “Mr. O’Brien is my pa. Ya might as well call me Jacob like everyone else does.”

  She hesitated, her eyes clouding so he couldn’t read her expression. Was she too uppity to use his Christian name? She’d need to get over that, because on the ranch common sense ruled. They had more to worry about than whether or not it was proper for her to use his first name.

  Finally, a weak smile touched her lips. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. It will make things less confusing, to be sure.” And with that she squeezed Bandita into a jog, calling over her shoulder, “Goodbye, Jacob.”

  He couldn’t help but sit there and gaze after her. This woman was so different than anyone he’d ever met. She was a mixture of caring and spunk, innocence and strength. He didn’t know quite what to think of her. He’d been so careful not to get himself wrapped up with anything that would detract from his work on the ranch. And if anything could be a distraction, a female would be.

  * * *

  At church the next Sunday, Anna sat in her usual seat between Aunt Lola and Edward. The only difference was Jacob’s rich tenor voice that wafted to her from the older woman’s other side as they sang the opening hymn:

  When peace like a river attendeth my soul,

  When sorrows like sea billows roll,

  Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

  “It is well, it is well with my soul.”

  The words washed through Anna like a rain as she added her clear alto harmony. Throughout the sermon, she k
ept going back to the words of the hymn. It is well with my soul, no matter what. Lord, please teach me to trust in You, so I can say in any circumstance it is well with my soul.

  After the service, Anna stood under a pecan tree in the church yard with her little clan of cowboys. Mr. O’Brien and Aunt Lola greeted an older couple from one of the ranches north of town. Juan recounted a story for Edward from a church he’d attended in Mexico. A hand touched Anna’s arm. Turning, she expected Aunt Lola’s wrinkled smile, but instead found a wide grin on the face of a little blonde slip of a woman, just a few years older than Anna.

  “Hello,” the woman began in a bubbly voice. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just had to introduce myself. I’m Virginia Wallace. We live on the farm just past the Double Rocking B. I’ve seen you at church the last couple o’ weeks and have been dyin’ to meet you.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Wallace. I’m Anna Stewart.”

  “Oh, call me Virginia. Or better yet, Ginny. And over there talking to Reverend Walker is my husband, Everett, with our little girl, Katie. She’s a handful, that one, but such a joy, too.” Ginny glowed with motherly pride as she talked of the girl.

  “She does look precious.” Anna smiled at the young mother. “How old is she?”

  “She’s three now but will be four by the time the new little one arrives.” Ginny rubbed her slightly expanded mid-section, a hint of pink rising to her cheeks. “Should be sometime in January.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Anna touched the woman’s arm.

  Ginny grabbed Anna’s hand in return and gave her a delighted smile. “Oh, I just know we’re going to be good friends. It gets lonely out on the farm, so it’ll be so nice havin’ someone my age within riding distance. I hear you and your brother are working on the Double Rocking B?”