“No. I wish we did. Right now, the doctors are making decisions on an emergency basis.” She paused, biting her lip. “As far as I know, he doesn’t have a living will, but I’m guessing he wouldn’t want to be on life support.”
“I don’t doubt it. My grandfather didn’t want any of that.” Mom and I had made a point of having all the legal details in place long before they were needed. But then, we were family. This was different.
“It’d be nice to know for sure.” She patted my arm. “I hope you’re up to this. I’ll be gone for a couple of days at least.”
Recalling all the wide-open spaces I’d driven through to get to the Circle Bar K, I couldn’t help wondering just where that ambulance had taken Calvin. “Where is he?”
“Salt Lake City,” she replied. “They flew him out of Rock Springs in a helicopter.” She paused, smiling. “Poor Wyatt. I can’t imagine driving all the way to Salt Lake and back with Bull—but then, Wyatt is one of the few people who can get Bull to be quiet for more than five minutes.”
I’d already picked up on the fact that Bull was quite a talker. Steering clear of both of them when they came back might be best. “They’re probably too tired to talk much by now.” I knew that feeling too, the mute numbness that came with total exhaustion. Toward the end of Grandpa’s long illness, I’d gone for days grabbing snatches of sleep whenever I could, never truly getting enough rest.
She nodded. “At least they can take turns driving. Anyway, they won’t be back until later this afternoon. Guess I’d better go get packed up myself, although I really hate to leave right now.”
“You said something last night about having a lot of trouble lately. What kind of trouble?”
“Weird stuff,” she replied. “Fences cut, cattle missing for a while, but then we find them straying. We fix the fences only to find another place cut a few days later.”
“So nobody is actually stealing cattle, just cutting the fence?”
“Yeah. Like I said, it’s weird because all it does is make more work for the guys.”
“Ever seen any suspicious characters hanging around?”
Angela let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “Not yet. As big as this ranch is, it’s damn near impossible to patrol all of it. At least, not with our limited manpower. Even having a couple of the guys ride the fence line every night wouldn’t help much. The culprit could easily sit back and wait until they were gone and then cut the fence.” She shrugged. “I guess some kids could be doing it as a prank, but I can’t imagine why they would target this ranch in particular. None of the other ranchers I’ve talked to have had this problem.”
“That is weird,” I agreed. “Is there anybody who might be holding a grudge?”
“Not that I can think of, unless we’ve got enemies we don’t even know about.”
“That’s doubtful. Most of us know who our enemies are.” I smiled. “I’ll keep an eye out for anything weird, although I have no idea what would be weird on a ranch. Never been on one before.”
Angela smiled back at me. “You might be just the one to notice something we wouldn’t.” Her expression sobered. “Listen, thanks for agreeing to stay on and help out. Everything’s gonna be kinda chaotic around here for a while.”
“I’ll try to keep the guys under control.”
“Yeah, right,” she drawled. “I can really see that happening.”
I laughed. “I only said I would try.”
“I can’t ask for more than that. Guess I’d better get packing. If you need anything from town, Dad or Dusty can give you the money and one of the guys can go with you.”
“Might take me a while to figure things out, but I’ll do my best. Right now, I just have to do some poking around in the cabinets to see what’s here.”
“I certainly don’t envy you that job.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll call when I get to the hospital. What’s your cell number?”
I gave her the number and she entered it into her phone. “Most cell phones don’t work out here, so I’ll probably call the bunkhouse phone—there’s an extension in your room—but it wouldn’t hurt for me to have it just in case. I’ll keep you all posted on Calvin, and if you can come up with anything regarding his next of kin, give me a call. Hopefully, he’ll wake up and they’ll let him come home soon.”
She didn’t mention the other possibility, which was that Calvin wouldn’t wake up and wouldn’t ever come home. I hated to seem pessimistic, but after the way Calvin had looked when I found him, I wasn’t holding out much hope.
I wished her a safe trip and got back to work. Having heard the “three chickens” thing, I figured I’d better start thawing out some stuff.
As Angela had reported, the huge chest-type freezer and the pantry were full. I might run out of a few things, but meat and vegetables weren’t among them. Nor, I soon discovered, would we run out of flour or sugar anytime soon. I found a fifty-pound bag of each in the pantry. I couldn’t imagine going through such quantities before the ants got into them, but then, I’d never cooked for a bunkhouse full of cowboys.
I found a few cookbooks to guide me on making meals for a crowd, picked out some recipes, and got started. I’d already made an apple pie and had the chickens marinating and a pot of green beans simmering on the stove by three thirty when Bull and Wyatt returned.
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Wyatt said, his tone carefully neutral. Perhaps he was regretting that comment about me being responsible for saving Calvin’s life.
Heat of the moment and all.
“I fixed breakfast for the men, and Joe asked me to stay on as cook until Calvin comes home. Angela seemed to like the idea.”
Wyatt responded with a flick of his brow, clearly debating the pros and cons of having a female in charge of the bunkhouse kitchen.
Bull was more direct. “Yes, but do we really need you? I can cook, and so can Wyatt.”
“Yeah, well, you two went off in the middle of the night and left the guys to fend for themselves, none of whom can even fry eggs. Dean nearly burned down the bunkhouse before I took over.”
Wyatt still wasn’t saying anything. I didn’t know him well enough to know if that was out of character for him or not, although he’d been pretty outspoken so far. I waited while his gaze swept the kitchen.
“Bull,” he began, “when’s the last time we had apple pie?”
“Shit, I dunno,” Bull said, scratching his shaven head. “Christmas, maybe?”
Wyatt nodded at the corner table where the pie sat on a cooling rack. “I think we oughta let Tina do the cooking. We’ll have enough to do being a man short, what with all the trouble we’ve been having with the fences.”
Bull’s jaw dropped as he followed the direction of Wyatt’s gesture. “Damn! Calvin hardly ever makes desserts. Says fresh fruits are better for us. Won’t let us eat white bread, either.”
“He’s right about that,” I said. “But I’m guessing he didn’t have the time to do much baking if he had other work to do.”
“Maybe so,” Bull admitted. “I kept telling him he should just stay here and cook. He said it would be too boring.”
Calvin was probably right about that too. Still, a man who required three stents to unclog his coronary arteries probably hadn’t had much energy of late. Of course, sitting around doing nothing might have made them clog up faster. I had a feeling that spending all day cooking and tasting would pack even more pounds on my hips. Ophelia and I were going to have to go for lots of walks.
Bull gazed longingly at the pie. “Don’t suppose we could have some of that now, could we?”
“Help yourself. Just make sure you leave some for the other guys.”
“I’ll only eat a small piece,” Bull promised, crossing his heart.
I glanced at Wyatt. “What about you? Are you hungry? Or would you rather wait until dinner?”<
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As exhausted as both men were bound to be, my first choice would’ve been a nap. Clearly these guys were made of sterner stuff.
“I’ll save the pie for after dinner,” Wyatt said. “Right now, I’d kill for a grilled cheese sandwich.”
Of all the things I would’ve expected a man like Wyatt to ask for, grilled cheese wasn’t among them. Then again, as a comfort food, grilled cheese was tough to beat. “No problem. Have a seat. Want something to drink? I made some fresh tea.”
“Sounds good.” He took off his hat and sat down. Rather than sagging with exhaustion, his shoulders seemed sort of stiff, like he needed a massage more than a sandwich.
Had he ever had someone to rub his back after a hard day? Would he even want that? God knew I would never ask—or offer.
Just fix him a sandwich, Tina.
That much I could do. While the skillet was heating up, I poured them each a glass of tea. As I set the tea in front of them, I eyed the pie askance, noting that a full quarter of it was missing. “Small piece, huh?”
“Couldn’t help it,” Bull declared as he scooped up another forkful. “This is the best thing I ever ate in my life.”
“I doubt that,” I said dryly. “You know what they say about hunger being the best sauce.”
“He couldn’t be that hungry,” Wyatt said. “It’s not like we haven’t eaten since we left here last night.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t stop for lunch,” Bull reminded him. “I’m not used to missing meals.”
“I take it you’d also like a sandwich?”
His fork clattered on the empty plate. “Umm… could you make that two?”
I glanced at Wyatt. “What about you. Is one enough?”
To my surprise, he winked. “Yeah. But I think I’d better have a piece of that pie before it disappears.”
“Guess I should’ve made two pies. I’ll know better next time.” No wonder Calvin seldom bothered to make dessert. If he had, he wouldn’t have had time to do anything else.
I, on the other hand, had time to spare. I even had time to make another pie before dinner.
I could get used to this.
I gave Wyatt a plate and fork before returning to the stove. As I buttered slices of bread and put them in the skillet, I realized I had time to make homemade bread, pots of soup that cooked all day, and any other time-consuming recipe that came to mind. Calvin probably felt rushed no matter what he fixed.
While the sandwiches were grilling, I took the opportunity to pick their brains a little. “I didn’t get much of an orientation to this job. What do you guys like besides grilled cheese and apple pie?”
“Are you kidding?” Bull said. “We’ll eat anything.”
A short chuckle escaped me. “Somehow I doubt that. What about the style? Italian, French, Asian, Indian? Or strictly American?”
Bull seemed impressed. “You know how to cook all that stuff?”
“Some of it,” I admitted. “But with Internet access and a computer, I can find a recipe for just about anything.” I plated up the sandwiches and carried them over to the table. “All I need are the proper ingredients.”
I stopped short when I saw the pie. Or what was left of it. “Hmm…” Apparently all cowboys considered a fourth of a pie to be the standard serving. “Definitely need to make another pie.” I couldn’t complain. After the way Grandpa picked at his food, watching food disappear was a welcome sight.
“I doubt it would go to waste,” Wyatt said.
I was standing right next to him, so when he stretched out his arm behind me, for a moment I thought he was going to wrap it around my hips and pull me in for a hug. I held my breath for a second or two, then blew it out, strangely disappointed when he lowered his hand.
“Guess I’d better get started on it then.” I turned and walked away.
Had he meant to hug me and stopped himself? Or was I imagining things? Dean would’ve done it. I was sure of that. Wyatt was different—not nearly as free with his attentions or affections. That wink was probably all I would ever get from him. Funny how it seemed to mean more than a kiss from Dean.
A sidelong glance caught him rubbing his right shoulder, then stretching his arm out again.
“Something wrong with your shoulder?” The words were out of my mouth before I even had time to think.
“Yeah. Wrenched it a few days ago. Hurt like a son-ofabitch while I was driving.” He raised his shoulder and rotated it a couple of times.
Clearly he hadn’t meant to hug me at all.
Story of my life.
“I keep telling you to go see a chiropractor,” Bull said. “Why doesn’t anybody ever listen to me?”
“When have I had time to go to a chiropractor?” Wyatt retorted. “Besides, you know how they are; they want you to come back twice a week or some such bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit if it helps,” Bull snapped. “But you always were a stubborn bastard.”
“A heating pad or a massage might help.” Once again, I spoke without thinking.
I really need to stop doing that.
“Maybe.” What was going on in Wyatt’s head was anyone’s guess, but the look he gave me could’ve bored a hole through steel.
Obviously, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. If he was as stubborn as Bull claimed, he certainly wouldn’t take any advice from me.
Electing to drop the subject before I irritated him any further, I started on the second pie. One nice thing about apple pie, it was pretty simple. I’d even found a nifty gadget that would simultaneously peel, slice, and core an apple with a few turns of a crank.
I was mixing the dough for the crust when the guys finished and put their plates in the sink.
Yawning, Bull announced, “I think I’ll take a nap until it’s time to feed the horses.”
“Good idea,” I said. “You guys must be exhausted.”
Bull headed through the doorway to the mess hall, leaving me alone with Wyatt. I caught myself holding my breath again as he paused behind me. Heat flowed from him like a summer breeze.
“You don’t have to do that.” His breath tickled my ear, tightening my skin into tingling goose bumps. “We could eat the rest of the pie and no one else would ever know.”
My laugh was as weak as my wobbly knees. He wasn’t even touching me and I could barely stand up. I’d be dropping the pastry blender next. “Think you could get Bull to keep the secret?”
“I dunno. Maybe not.”
“Really? Angela said you could—or that you could at least get him to be quiet.”
“True, but there’s a difference between being quiet and keeping a secret.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but I didn’t think I could take much more of his close proximity without dissolving into a bundle of overstimulated nerve endings. My heart was already beating out of control, flooding my cheeks with warmth.
I wanted him to go away and yet didn’t want him to leave. I knew I would relax and breathe easier without him there, but I craved his presence anyway.
So why was he still standing there?
“Uh, Tina,” he began. “Listen, what you said about a massage… That actually sounded pretty good.” He paused, seeming reluctant to admit he needed help and even more reluctant to ask for it. “Think you could…?”
I stared at the bowl of dough. I didn’t need to invent a reason why I couldn’t stop what I was doing and rub his shoulder for him. But at the same time, I had this itch to get my hands on something other than pie dough.
And some itches must be scratched.
“Sure. Just let me wash my hands.” I put a plate over the bowl to keep the dough from drying out and turned on the tap. After letting the water run until it was good and hot, I washed my hands, then dried them with a dish towel. When I turned toward Wyatt, my worst fears were realized.
Right here. Right now.
Heat sliced through my pelvis, stealing moisture from my mouth to send it gushing from my core. My attempt to swallow failed utterly. “There at the table is fine.”
He would probably smell bad after being on the road all night and most of the day. Bad smells usually put me off immediately. I figured I was safe. But when I moved closer, he smelled fine. Not freshly showered, perhaps, but nice. “Do you have any ointment to put on it?”
“There’s probably something around here somewhere, but for now, just use a little olive oil.”
I was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. Getting my hands on a hot, studly cowboy might make my temperature soar, but by the time I’d smeared him with olive oil, he would smell like a salad.
Not sexy at all.
Unfortunately, after dribbling oil on his back and placing my hands on his shoulders, I was forced to revise that assessment. Wyatt would’ve been sexy even if he’d smelled like a barn. And salads, on the whole, were quite tasty.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the image of the powerful-looking muscles in his back and shoulders, but I couldn’t hide them from my hands. His hair, although relatively short, curled at the nape. Using the excuse of massaging his neck, I touched it. For some peculiar reason, that affected me even more than touching his skin had done—the gesture was more intimate, somehow.
Eventually, I found the sore spots in his upper back and shoulder and kneaded them hard. Wyatt’s groans and sighs were like candy, enticing me to keep going until I’d thoroughly massaged every muscle in his body. Twice.
After a glance at the clock proved I’d been at it for about twenty minutes, I figured it was time to quit or I was bound to do something really stupid—especially since he was getting to me on a level no real man ever had. Surely twenty minutes was enough. Then again, he wasn’t asking me to stop. If anything, I got the distinct impression he wanted me to keep going forever.
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