The Cowboy's Lady

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Why didn’t Cody come?

  She was just finished wiping down the taps of the kitchen sink when Dover staggered into the kitchen.

  “You got something for an upset stomach?” he asked, clutching his abdomen. “I feel terrible. I’ve been throwing up for the past hour.”

  “What?” Vivienne tossed the cloth into the sink and hurried over to Dover’s side. His face was gray and his eyes red. “What happened?”

  “Grady is feeling the same. So is his wife,” Dover groaned, bending over. “I think something was wrong with the food.”

  Then, to Vivienne’s horror, he collapsed onto the kitchen floor.

  Cody ran a few more steps and then walked a few, clutching his side as he stumbled down the last bend in the road to the ranch. For the past two hours he’d been alternately running and walking and the stitch in his side grew worse and worse. He should have never taken that detour to pick up that saddle for his uncle. Uncle Ted had called him asking Cody to get the saddle because the buyer had someone else lined up, and if Cody didn’t come right away it was gone.

  So, after picking up Vivienne’s car from the mechanic, Cody had reluctantly made the out-of-the-way trip to get the saddle. He would have been at the ranch two hours ago if he hadn’t.

  And Vivienne might have been the one driving her car, instead of Cody, when the brakes failed.

  For ten terror-filled seconds, Cody had gone careening downhill, unable to stop. Thankfully he knew the road and had been able to turn off the road onto an uphill grade, which slowed the car enough for him to turn it into the ditch and stop it.

  But he had ditched the car a two-hour’s walk from the ranch.

  He tried not to think of the time or how angry he was at Art Krueger for not doing a better job on Vivienne’s car.

  Meantime, he hoped no one at the ranch was too worried about him. When he called the ranch he got Bryce on the phone, which seemed weird. Cody didn’t bother asking Bryce what he was doing in the kitchen. He just told him he might be late, to pass the message on and then his phone died. Correction: Vivienne’s phone died.

  And the reason he was using Vivienne’s phone was because she had left it in her car when she dropped it off at Art’s. And he had been driving Vivienne’s car back to the ranch because he thought he would surprise her and take it back to the ranch for her.

  Good thing he did. First chance he got he was heading back into town to give Art Krueger a piece of his mind. He didn’t even want to think what could have happened if Vivienne had been driving that car when the brakes failed.

  He jogged a bit, then slowed down and walked again, his mind on Vivienne and what waited for him when he got to the ranch.

  The entire way back, his mind shifted between anger with Art for what happened to Vivienne’s car and the words of that chef from Denver. When Vivienne’s phone rang, he’d answered it without thinking. And the person on the other end of the line was some guy named Chef Eduardo. From Au Gratin in Denver.

  “Tell Vivienne I looked at her résumé and I’d be honored to have her come and work. Anytime. I’ll make room for someone of her caliber,” he had said, asking Cody to pass the message on.

  Looked at her résumé.

  Honored to have her come and work.

  And as Cody agreed to pass the message on, fear and confusion clawed at his chest.

  That’s why she wanted to go to Denver. That’s why she stayed a few more days and didn’t tell him.

  He pushed the traitorous thoughts down. He couldn’t think that, not without talking to Vivienne first.

  Then, finally, he rounded the last bend and saw the lights of the ranch. He took a shortcut through the trees, branches slapping at him. When he broke through into the clearing, it was to see a number of cars parked by the bunkhouse, another unfamiliar car by Grady and Delores’s house and one by the cookhouse.

  And more confusion slipped into his already busy mind. What was going on? What were these other vehicles doing here?

  Lights blazed in every building. The cookhouse was closest, and as he ran toward it a door opened and light streamed out into the dark. Then a figure emerged, silhouetted by the light behind him.

  Cody frowned as the figure turned. Was that Jonathan Turner? What was a doctor doing here? Ignoring the pain in his side, Cody ran harder.

  “What’s going on?” he gasped as he made it to the door, pressing his hand against the wooden building to support himself.

  “Where did you come from?” Jonathan shifted his bag to his other hand, frowning at Cody, who fought to suck in enough air. “Are you okay?”

  Cody waved him off. “What’s happening?”

  Jonathan glanced over his shoulder, then back at Cody. “You got a number of sick hands. My diagnosis is food poisoning.”

  “Sick? Food poisoning? Again? How sick is everyone?”

  “Whoever has it doesn’t need to go to the hospital,” Jonathan continued, his voice even and calm, smoothing away some of Cody’s concern. “They’ll need extra care. You weren’t here, so Vivienne and I got the Church Care Committee coming tomorrow to help out.”

  Cody looked past Jonathan and saw Vivienne standing just beyond him. She leaned against the counter, her hand over her mouth, her other arm clasping her stomach.

  “Are you okay?” His concern made him push past Jonathan. He caught Vivienne by the shoulders, relief flooding through him. She had come back after all. She was still here.

  But her gaze was locked on the floor, wisps of loose hair falling over her cheeks.

  “It’s my fault,” she said, her voice muffled by her hand. “They got sick from the food I gave them.”

  “What? I don’t understand.” He cupped her face in his hand, his mind playing catch-up as he tried to absorb what was going on. Tried to absorb the fact that she was still here. Still cooking for his men.

  She looked at him, and Cody’s heart dropped at the anguish in her eyes.

  “I wanted to make a special supper for you.” Her hands drifted sideways in a gesture of confusion. “But I messed up. Again. I’m useless. I’m no better than that other cook you hired—Stimpy.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She just looked at him, pain in her eyes. She reached out, touched his face, then she lowered her hand.

  “I can’t be here,” she whispered. “It’s time for me to go.”

  Cody watched her face tighten, saw her fingers curl into fists. Watched her move away from him.

  “I have to go,” she said. “This isn’t worth it. I have to leave.”

  Her beautiful face was full of anguish. But it was the definite tone in her voice that chilled his heart. Her voice spoke of purpose. Of decision.

  Looked at her résumé. Honored to have her come.

  I have to leave.

  She raised her chin, as if she had made up her mind. “Sorry, Cody,” she said. “I have to go. Right now. I don’t belong here.”

  Then she turned away from him, walking toward the back of the building.

  He lowered his arms, his own resolve hardening as he watched her walk away.

  Go after her. Find out what she means. Find out what’s going on.

  But the cold around his heart flowed into his veins.

  No. He wasn’t going after her. Not when she couldn’t be bothered to tell him the truth about why she had gone to Denver.

  He had promised himself he was never running after a woman again, and he wasn’t starting with someone who couldn’t be straightforward with him.

  He shook his head and spun around on his heel. He stormed out of the cookhouse, not sure where he was going. Sure only of one thing.

  He was done with Vivienne Clayton. She was a city girl and she was leaving. Going back to where she belonged.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Are you feeling better?” Cody perched on the edge of his uncle’s bed, his hands resting on his thighs. This was the first break he’d had in his work the past couple of days and the first chance h
e’d had to talk to his uncle since the food-poisoning incident.

  Ted made a face, then pushed aside the bowl of soup he’d been working on for the past ten minutes. “I’d be feeling a lot better if I could be eating Vivienne’s cooking ’stead of this slop.”

  “I’m sure Dorothy Henry would lash you with her lacy hanky for calling her soup slop.” Cody attempted a feeble grin to go with his feeble joke, wishing his uncle’s mention of Vivienne’s name didn’t start up the dull ache he’d been trying to suppress the past few days.

  It was a mixed blessing that his men were sick. Meant he was busy from the minute he cracked his eyes open until the second he dropped, weary from exhaustion, into bed.

  Cody had gone through the motions of work, doing what he could, keeping thoughts of Vivienne at bay.

  Vivienne was a city girl. He should have known. He simply had to forget her.

  So why couldn’t he get rid of this ache in his chest? Why couldn’t he move on like he did after Tabitha? Why did his life seem to stretch ahead of him empty, devoid of life?

  Thankfully he still had his faith. He still knew that in all the ups and downs of his life, God was faithful.

  And thankfully his men hadn’t gotten sicker.

  The people on the ranch were being taken care of, so at least he didn’t have that on his mind. Every day someone else from the Church Care Committee came delivering meals and visiting with the people who were sick. Some offered to help Cody, but he politely declined, preferring to lose himself in the busyness of his work. Diving into exhaustion in the faint hope it would keep thoughts of Vivienne buried.

  “You look like you could use some soup, even if it is slop,” his uncle said, leaning back against the pillows.

  Of everyone, Uncle Ted had been hit the hardest by the food poisoning. Cade was already up and about. He was checking on the cows right now, giving Cody his first break in two days of steady work, and Dover was helping him feed.

  “I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not,” Ted said, drilling his gaze into Cody’s. “You look like someone shot your horse, rode over your dog and crashed your favorite truck.”

  Trouble was, all of the above was preferable to what he was feeling now.

  “I’m just tired,” Cody said, stifling a yawn.

  “You get Vivienne’s car back to Art’s?”

  Cody nodded. Zach had made sure a tow truck had come to bring the ditched car back to the mechanic’s shop.

  “I’m sorry I bugged you to get that saddle,” Ted said, folding his hands over his chest. “You could’ve been here for Vivienne.”

  Cody shook his head. “I’m not sorry. If I hadn’t picked up that saddle, Vivienne would have been driving her car when the brakes failed.”

  “Have you talked to Vivienne?”

  Cody threw his uncle an annoyed look. “She’s gone.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Why wouldn’t she be gone? Great job offer from Chef Eduardo at Au whatever-the-name-of-that-restaurant-was. At any rate, she hadn’t contacted him or even bothered to come back for her things. Her sister, Brooke, had done that one day while he was out working.

  Bonnie had been moping around, as well, saying how much she missed Vivienne, telling Cody he was stupid to let her go. Bonnie didn’t know he had had nothing to do with her leaving. Vivienne had left of her own free will. Gone off to Denver.

  Cody pressed his hands to his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “Well, I better go see how Grady is doing. Now that Bryce is gone, things are even busier.”

  “I heard that little weasel quit.”

  “Yeah. He left the night everyone got sick.” Cody dropped his hat back on his head and threaded his arms through the sleeves of his lined oilskin. “He didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face.”

  Ted stroked his grizzled chin, blinked a couple of times, then looked up at Cody. “Did Jonathan ever find out how we got the food poisoning?”

  Cody shook his head. “He figured it was the soup, ’cause only the people who had the soup got sick.”

  “I don’t suppose they did a test on that soup?”

  “This isn’t CSI Circle C, okay? No one died. They just got sick. We did the math, and that’s what Jonathan came up with.” Cody stifled his exasperation. He knew his temper was on a hair-trigger these days, and he knew why. It wasn’t his uncle’s fault, though. He drew in a long breath and prayed, once again, for patience. For strength to get through the next while. Because sooner or later memories of Vivienne would fade away. “It was just the soup and that’s all. I just wish—” He captured the last angry words with clamped lips.

  “What do you wish?”

  Cody pushed away that question with a backhand. “So tell me what’s flapping in your brain.”

  Ted simply nodded, then said, “I saw Bryce fiddling with that soup. Just before the dinner, I went in to get a cookie and I saw him stirring it.” Ted pushed himself upright, his eyes growing bright. “He must have done something to the soup or put something in it. I asked him what he was doing and he said Vivienne asked him to make sure it wasn’t burning. But Vivienne wouldn’t let anyone touch her food, would she?”

  This caught Cody’s attention. “No. She wouldn’t. Bonnie often complained that when Vivienne made dinner she would hang over everything she did, making sure Bonnie did it exactly right.”

  “And Vivienne and Bonnie were working in the dining hall when I went into the kitchen.” Ted stabbed the air with his finger. “You go talk to that weasel. Find out what he did. Then tell Vivienne so she won’t think she poisoned us.”

  “I’ll pass the information onto Zach. He’s the sheriff. He can deal with it.”

  Ted narrowed his eyes. “You need to tell her yourself. Poor girl is probably beating herself up over what happened. Probably wishing you would come. She cares about you. And any fool can see it, except you, apparently.” He sighed wearily. “I’m sure she’s wishing right now you would come and forgive her. Tell her that you still care.”

  Ted’s words stung and at the same time raised the specter of false hope. “Vivienne is in Denver,” he said, quashing his uncle’s optimism. He wasn’t going to say anything about still caring for Vivienne, because even acknowledging that hurt too much.

  “How do you figure?”

  “I got a call on her phone from some chef in Denver saying he looked at the résumé she dropped off when she was there a few days ago. He offered her a job. She’s gone.”

  Ted’s frown and subsequent head shake started a niggle of unease. “She wouldn’t do that. She won’t get her money that way.”

  “Before she left she said that no money was worth this. I think she’s bugging out on the inheritance,” Cody was saying as the door of the cabin opened and Dorothy Henry bustled in. Her ample frame was tucked in a silky blouse and her disapproving gaze landed on him.

  “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

  “Visiting my uncle.” Cody tried to sound in charge, but Dorothy’s eyes were like little lasers, cutting him to her size.

  “You should go now. He needs his rest,” she said as she cleared away Ted’s soup bowl and napkin. “And for your information, I heard what you said. Vivienne Clayton is staying at Brooke’s house. She isn’t in Denver at all, and she looks terrible, I might say. Saw her sitting on Brooke’s porch the other day looking positively wrung out.” She turned and her eyes impaled him, as if accusing him of being the cause of Vivienne’s distress.

  Cody frowned. “What do you mean, not in Denver?”

  Dorothy waved an imperious hand at him, as if to dismiss him. “I mean what I said. She’s still in Clayton.”

  Cody shot a frown at Ted, who was looking distinctly smug. “You should probably check this out for yourself,” Ted said, throwing back the covers. “And I’m getting out of bed. High time I did something on this place.”

  “Mr. Struthers, you are certainly not well enough to be up and about,” Dorothy chided, putti
ng down the half-empty soup bowl as if to stop him.

  Cody didn’t wait to see how this scenario played out. He zipped up his coat and dropped his hat on his head, questions dogging him as he strode out the door.

  Vivienne was still hanging around Clayton because of the inheritance. That was all.

  He tried to stifle his thoughts and wonderings, but as he got caught up on his paperwork, paid some bills, prepared ear tags for the calves and went over his fall checklist for the cattle, he couldn’t get the picture of Vivienne Dorothy created out of his mind. Positively wrung out? Why?

  And when Bonnie came home from school, sullen and cranky, complaining that she had to help Delores with the cooking and why couldn’t Cody see that Vivienne really cared about him and why couldn’t Cody go and get her, Cody had had enough.

  If Vivienne was still in Clayton, he needed to know exactly why, he figured as he got into his truck, started it up and headed downtown. Besides, he still owed her some money. And he had to find Bryce and have a little chat with him. And talk to Art about the butcher job they did on Vivienne’s brakes.

  He wasn’t running after Vivienne Clayton at all. Not at all.

  “I know it’s hard to think about, and I know you’ve had your own struggles with the Clayton family, but could you think of coming?” Vivienne clutched the handset of the phone, waiting for Mei’s response.

  She gave Brooke’s swing a push with the toe of her shoe, the rhythmic swinging easing some of her tension away. It had taken her a couple of days to connect with Mei, and she wasn’t sure what kind of reception her cousin would give her. At the funeral, Mei had been polite but distant. And now, she sounded much the same.

  “So did your P.I. tell you why Lucas didn’t come to the reading of the will?” Mei sounded distracted. “Are you sure he wasn’t simply being his usual rebellious self?”

  “He told us that a man fitting Lucas’s description has kidnapped a child. We think he took the boy from some drug dealers down in the Everglades. The P.I. thinks the drug dealers are now are after Lucas and the little boy.”