Hill Country Homecoming

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  He dashed past the red sports car, now with its driver side door open and alarm dinging, to the front door. His heart pounded in his ears. As he hit the threshold, he called out her name.

  “In here! Hurry. Hurry.”

  He followed the frantic cries to the doorway of the den. Sarah lay huddled over something on the floor, her sobs escalating in volume and frequency. Tucker hovered over her, his hand to his mouth and eyes wide.

  Travis stared at the familiar, dust and dung stained boots flayed at an angle on the rug. He gulped. The incapacitated human huddled in a heap couldn’t possibly be the same person he’d worked for over the past decade and a half. Yet his brain told him it was.

  “Help him.” Sarah rose and shook Travis’ shoulders, her gaze wild.

  He gripped her arms and eased her onto the couch. Then he knelt by the still figure with hollow, glazed-over eyes. Foam oozed every ounce of strength from the corner of the moustache-lined mouth.

  If it’d been a horse, Travis would have reached for the revolver. But this pitiful lump was a man, his boss and mentor. “Call 9-1-1.” He raised his eyes to Tucker. “Now, man. Now.”

  The city slicker blinked. “Right.” His hand shook as he dug his phone from his hip pocket.

  Travis began resuscitation efforts as Sarah whimpered and rocked. Finally, he heard a small gurgle and a grunt. He grabbed the man’s shoulder. “Hang in there, sir. Help’s on the way.” Without taking his attention from his boss’ face he called out, “Sarah, get that throw from the sofa.”

  She jolted out of her dazed agony and leapt to retrieve the blanket. He tucked it around Mr. Mansfield’s limp body. Old, faded-sapphire eyes followed his movements. Deep under their haze lay a fear Travis had never seen before.

  Travis grasped one blue-veined hand and lifted up silent prayers as Sarah crouched on the other side and stroked her father’s wrinkled brow. At last, the sirens grew louder and red flashing lights pulsated through the curtains.

  A shadow of a smile etched the old man’s lips as his eyes closed and his hand went limp.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Two days later, the news that Mr. Mansfield would never fully recover shrouded the household. The stroke had ravished his body and weakened his heart. Cook sniffled the whole day. Workers carried out their duties in mournful silence. After chores that evening, Travis went to visit him in the hospital.

  “He’s being transferred tomorrow to a rehab facility for a week, and then they will reassess him.” Sarah’s tone sounded flat, her eyes hollow as if she’d become a zombie. Too much worry and too little sleep. She’d never left his side since they wheeled him through the emergency room doors, which surprised Travis. What didn’t shock him was the fact Tucker slipped away the morning after the incident and headed back to Dallas and his law practice, no doubt feeling like a third thumb.

  Travis stood in a straddled position in the hallway outside Mr. Mansfield’s hospital room. He rotated his cowboy hat in his hands as her words began to make sense. His brain whirled with the realization the ranch now rested in his hands. He wiggled his toes inside his boots, suddenly aware of the bigger ones he must now try to fill.

  “Of course, Daddy and I greatly appreciate you keeping the ranch running through all of this. He, and I, will need to lean on you more than ever, I’m afraid.”

  He blinked. “Excuse me? You?”

  She propped one foot against the wall and took a sip of coffee. Black rings clung to the rim of the throw-away cup, echoing the ones under her eyes. “Sorry. Guess you’ll have to put up with me for a while.” She shrugged with a small laugh, then her face hardened. “Look, let’s be honest. I don’t like you and you hate me—”

  “But, ma’am.”

  She lifted her hand. “Let’s just try to get along, for Daddy’s sake and the Bar-M. Agreed?” She held out her fingers and pumped her wrist, asking him to seal the deal in a shake.

  He gave her a silent nod, swallowed, and took her hand in his. It felt as soft as a dove’s breast. He raised his gaze to her deep bluebonnet eyes and saw something he’d never seen before—determination, just like her momma once had.

  She jerked and he realized he still held onto her. He released his grip and coughed into his fist. “Okay if I go in and see him now?”

  Sarah motioned towards the door, giving her permission. He took two steps then stopped at the sound of her cracking voice.

  “Oh, and Travis. You can pray with him. I won’t mind and I know he’d like it.”

  A chill shot down his spine. He dipped his head. “Yes’m.”

  As he crossed the threshold, he tapped his knuckles on the jamb. What he surveyed took the breath out of him. The sterile room, the machines flashing and beeping, and the shell of a man lying in the partially raised hospital bed as wilted as a day-old picked dandelion—surreal. Tears stung the back of his eyes. He took in a deep lungful of air through his nose and slowly let it out before entering.

  “Mr. Mansfield. Good to see ya, sir.”

  The old man put out the effort to half-smile. His right hand rose off the sheets and motioned Travis closer. “Take. Care. Sarah. Ranch.”

  “You betcha. Don’t you worry. The men and I will handle it until you’re back on your feet.”

  “Ain’t. Gonna. Happen. Son.”

  Travis gulped down the emotion clogging his throat. Every word seemed to take a momentous amount of effort for the man to utter. The normal twinkle in his aged eyes no longer existed as if someone had extinguished a flame. “Yes, sir. I know that’s what the doctors are telling you. But we can hope and pray.”

  Mr. Mansfield blinked. Travis laid his hat on the chair and took his boss’s hand—the one without the IV’s jammed in it. He bowed his own head and closed his eyes. As he began to lift the situation to heaven, he sensed someone slip into the room. He peeked out of one eye to observe Sarah, her head down, with a tear rolling over her cheek.

  It took him by surprise when his other hand, as if acting on its own, reached for hers and she quickly grasped it. Travis stuttered, sucked in a breath, and turned his thoughts upward again. As he prayed, he couldn’t help but notice a change in the princess’s attitude. Shock had somehow softened her.

  He doubted it would last, though. Within twenty-four hours, they’d be locking horns again. The two of them were like cattle and sheep. Neither could graze for long in the other’s field. Inwardly, he asked God for patience, endurance, and mercy.

  * * *

  Sarah sat in the atrium of the rehab center, the setting sun enveloping her flaxen curls in a pinkish-orange glow. Papers lay strewn in front of her. Her head bowed over the work as one hand rested on her brow. She tapped the calculator vigorously with the eraser end of a pencil.

  Travis approached, soft-footed.

  She straightened. “Hi.”

  He removed his hat. “Howdy, ma’am.”

  She clicked her tongue and drew her knees to her chest. “Quit calling me that. I’m not my momma.”

  Six days ago, he’d agreed whole heartedly. But now…wasn’t she? “You are my boss, for now.”

  She traced the stitched seam on her jeans with a fingernail. “Guess so. Who knew, right?” She let out a nervous scoff, but her eyes shimmered with seriousness. She bolted from the chair and paced, her hands wrapped tightly around her waist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Ma’am? Uh, Sarah?”

  She planted her feet a few inches from his face and waggled her finger under his nose. “I’ve been going over the accounts. They’re a mess, Travis. I can’t make heads or tails of this system. I’m not sure how much we have coming in or going out.”

  He scratched his neck and sat down. “Mr. Mansfield’s accountant always handled that. Maybe his firm can help.”

  “I called them. They may as well have patted me on the head and told me to go play outside.” She plopped back into her chair, her lower lip turned out in a pout. If she hadn’t sniffed back a tear, Travis would have broken out laughing at her ge
sture. So un-princess like.

  She wiped her hand under her eyes. “I think they’ve been skimming the cream for years.”

  His eyes grew so large it made his forehead hurt. “You’re serious? No offense, but when did you learn about numbers? Don’t you have a degree in Shakespeare or something?”

  “Close enough. Masters in Renaissance English Lit. I did have to take math to earn my bachelor’s, you know.” She stiffened her spine. “With honors, by the way. Cum laude.”

  Travis whistled. “So you’re more than a pretty face after all, huh?”

  She chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

  He shifted his weight. “No disrespect, but it’s hard not to.”

  Her cheeks blossomed into a rosy hue. However, she narrowed her gaze. “Can you meet me tonight after dinner?”

  “Shouldn’t you run that by Tucker?”

  “Why?”

  He cocked his mouth to one side. “Is this a date?”

  “Dear me. No.”

  Her wide-eyed stare sent a spear of rejection into his gut. He lowered his eyes. “I was kidding, Sarah. I would never assume you’d have any interest in the likes of me…”

  Her expression softened. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat and her voice returned to a pure-business tone. “Before I hand all this over to Tucker’s law firm, I want to make sure my suspicions are warranted. I could use a second eye.”

  The miff he felt eased—a bit. “How is wonder boy?”

  She gazed out the window at the sun as it slipped over the hills. Her response of “fine” barely registered above a whisper.

  Right. So that’s why she hadn’t been dropping his name every ten minutes. Trouble in paradise. The sooner he got her out of the Bar-M, the better, both for her and him, so he could regain some form of normalcy at the ranch. “Okay. I’ll help you sort it out as best I can. Then maybe you can return to your city life and wedding plans. We can handle the rest of the ranch business by email and over internet conferences.”

  She leaned forward, her hands pressed to the table. “News flash, Travis. I’m not leaving. Daddy’s not gonna get any better. He never got around to producing a son, remember? This ranch is my responsibility now, whether either of us likes it or not. I have power of attorney, according to the lawyers.” She flipped the edge of the stack of papers with her thumb. “I can’t plan a wedding and handle all of this, too.”

  “What does Tucker think about that?”

  Fire shot from her pupils. “None of your business. You stay out of my love life and I’ll steer clear of yours, if you have one. Which I doubt you do.” She punched him with her fingernail. “Your job is to teach me how to run the place. Period. Understand?”

  “Um…”

  She gathered the papers into a folder. “Looks like I’ll be your boss for the unforeseeable future, so I take it back. You should continue calling me ma’am.” Her voice quivered. “Take that pill and swallow it, mister. I’ve been chokin’ on it all day.”

  With a screech of the metal chair across the linoleum, Sarah rose and stomped out of the atrium. She tucked the folder and calculator to her chest as her shapely hip butted open the door to the rehab floor where her father lay.

  Two minutes later, Travis closed his mouth and breathed again. A whiff of her flowery perfume hung in her wake inside the darkening room. He couldn’t shake the scent out of his nostrils the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The mantle clock struck eight as his boots hit the threshold of the den. She already sat at her father’s desk, calculator and folder in front of her. “Right on time, thanks.”

  “Ma’am. I pride myself in punctuality. You’ll learn that about me.”

  She leaned back in the leather seat and rolled her eyes. “Your job is safe, Travis. This isn’t an interview. Pull up a chair.”

  He grabbed one of the horsehair-covered ones that flanked the fireplace and angled it at the edge of the massive mahogany desk.

  “Travis. Unless your vision is exceptional, I doubt if you can see the calculations from there. Scoot on in. I won’t bite. Promise.”

  He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. Just didn’t want to intrude on your personal space.” He moved the chair closer to her and sat, glad he’d thought to shower after a full day of ranch work.

  Sarah folded her hands over her chest. “Why do you hate me?”

  She may have well whacked him in the jaw. “Ma’am?”

  “I really want to know. If we are going to work together in tight quarters, we need to clear the air. Right here, right now.”

  He rose and walked to the front of the desk. “Very well. For years, I’ve had a bone to pick with you. I am a simple, hardworking sort. All through your high school years, I watched you spendin’ your father’s money right and left without blinkin’ an eye. You had no inkling how he scraped and saved to turn this place into your kingdom, and I kinda got the idea you didn’t much care…until now.”

  She picked at a fingernail. “Fair analysis. Daddy always spoiled me. I see that now. Momma used to say he understood mares more than women. We were mystical beings to him. He pampered her horribly, and after she died…” She took a swallow of coffee. “That’s how he treated me, except even more so.”

  “His way of showin’ love, I guess.”

  “You’re right in your assumption of me. I’m shallow and selfish and I am not sure I could ever truly love…”

  Travis shook his head. Had he heard her correctly? “Not exactly what I’d expect an engaged woman to say.”

  She stared at the dark liquid in her cup for several seconds. Then she cleared her throat. “Speaking of which. How about you?”

  He planted his boots to the rug. “Excuse me?”

  She pushed the chair back from the desk and slouched in a confident, superior manner. “Have you been or are you now in love?”

  “I, um…don’t see the relevance …”

  She flipped her wrist. “You’re right. There is none. Never mind. Come sit down.” But he noticed she tugged on her lower lip with her teeth.

  “Wanna tell me the reason behind your question?”

  Her pencil tapped back and forth on the blotter. “Tucker had mentioned how the women tried to get your attention at the barbeque and you pretty much sloughed them off. Just curious. I mean, you aren’t bad lookin’. So, you do like women, right?”

  He thrust his chest out. “Ma’am, of course I do. Just waiting for the right one, I guess. Why settle for something less?”

  Sarah shrugged and played with the diamond ring on her left finger. After an awkward moment, she lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with moisture. She gulped a sob. “Oh, Travis, I have been a stuck up, snobbish fool. For the last six years, I’ve set my goals on snaring the richest, best-looking bachelor in Texas who’d go far in this world and lavish me with diamonds. I’ve never told Daddy how much he means to me…and…”

  “You’ve told him in your own way. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  She pushed back the chair and walked to the fireplace. She spun on her heel and faced him again, her chin aloft and shoulders back. “That’s going to change now. I’m a Mansfield. Mansfields have run this ranch since my great-granddad bought the first four-hundred-eighty acres in 1903. It is not going to die on my watch.”

  “Nor mine, ma’am.” Travis walked toward her. He laid a hand on each of her slender shoulders and felt her inner strength surging. “Sarah, I’ll help anyway I can. You can count on me. But let’s get one thing straight since we’re clearing the air, as you say. I trust in God, but I ain’t no saint.”

  She scrunched her eyebrows. “Aren’t you?”

  He scuffed the rug with the toe of his boot. “You may as well know my history. I started down the wrong road as a teenager. Drinking, cussing, smokin’—the whole nine yards.”

  She chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. “No. Seriously? You?”

  “Yep. Got in trouble with the law drag racing across private property while
drunk. This property. The judge wanted to send me to juvenal correction, but your daddy asked to take me on instead. He made me work off my conviction doing chores after school, on weekends, and holidays. Gave me a beat-up ol’ truck for transportation. Had to drive over an hour to get here.” He chuckled at the memory. “Your daddy kept close tabs on that speedometer to make sure I did no joy ridin’. Would smell my breath, too. Man, I despised him at first.”

  Sarah grinned. “I remember Daddy telling me to stay away from you. I think I was about seven, right?”

  “You were about to have your eighth birthday. Your momma was still with us then.” He swallowed hard. “After I graduated from high school, he hired me on full-time and gave me three squares and lodging. By then, I’d come to deeply respect the man. I owe him my loyalty and my life. That’s why I despised your attitude. You had no idea how easy you had it. But I never hated you, Sarah.”

  She sniffled and nodded. “I still can’t believe it’s happened.” Her body wobbled.

  Travis led her to leather sofa. In the soft glow of the fire, he noticed how sallow her cheeks had become. Dark moons draped under her eyes. Even so, tenacity flowed through her still-gorgeous sinew. This young lady had traded her sheltered lifestyle, and possibly her dreams, for her father’s. A new respect for her welled in his heart.

  For a while, neither spoke a word. The mantle clock’s tick-tocks and the mesquite kindling hissing in the fireplace were the only sounds besides the rustle of the branches knocked by the winter winds outside the window. Sarah stared at the oriental carpet. Travis crouched on his boot heels to her eye level, unsure if he should leave or stay.

  A single tear escaped onto her cheek. He leaned in and wiped it with his thumb. “Clean slate, okay? I extend the respect I have for him to you now as his heir.”

  One of the logs cracked and tumbled onto the grate. She blinked out of her trance and slapped her hands to her knees. “Well. Daddy thinks the world of you. So, clean slate for me as well. Shall we get started, then?”

  She maneuvered around him and headed back to the executive chair, her body language suddenly all business. “Start off by explaining what each ranch hand does and why Adam gets so much more money.”