Best of Cowboys Bundle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Barbara White Daille, Judy Christenberry, Christine Wenger, Shirley Rogers, Crystal Green, Nina Bruhns, Candance Schuler, Carole Mortimer

  “They would? I didn’t know that. They’ve certainly been complimentary, which I appreciated, but I didn’t know—”

  John looked down at his feet. “I guess I forgot to tell you you were doing a bang-up job. I was worried about you getting the wrong idea if I said too much.”

  It took her a moment to understand what he was saying. “The wrong—Oh, no, I wouldn’t. I mean, I understand what I’m doing here.”

  John stared at Debra. He wanted to ask if she was willing to change her job description to include the true wifely duties, but somehow he didn’t think she was ready yet.

  He was. Much to his surprise, the idea of sharing his bedroom with Debra was beginning to dominate his thoughts. He looked at her again. Then he frowned. She was beginning to look almost frail. What was going on?

  Remembering his vow to watch her eating habits, he sat down at the table. “What are you doing now?”

  “I’m getting out the silverware so I can set the table.”

  “But you’ve got time till the guys get in.”

  “Setting the table early won’t hurt anything.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said, standing to take the silverware from her. But she pulled away.

  “Don’t you ever sit down and rest?”

  “Of course I do. Once the kitchen is clean, I have the evening free.” She briskly set about peeling potatoes and making a salad. After a few moments of feeling his eyes boring into her back, she turned around. “John, you need to go find something to do. You’re driving me crazy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re staring at me. What about the paper work Bill told me about? He said you were behind in that.”

  “I guess I could go work on it.” He stood. “Do you have any cookies? I could use a snack.”

  In exasperation, she fixed him a plate of cookies and poured him a glass of milk.

  “I haven’t drunk so much milk since I was a teenager,” he commented.

  She reached out to take the glass of milk and he quickly moved out of her reach. “No, I was just commenting, not complaining. It goes good with the cookies.”

  “Fine. Then go work on your papers and enjoy your snack.”

  John smiled as he left the kitchen. So his stare bothered her? Good. He wanted to bother her, to disturb her. To have her thinking about him.

  That was the first step in getting her to be his wife—in every sense of the word.

  The next morning, Debra served breakfast to the men as usual, and was feeding cereal to Betsy, who was unusually fussy. Between bites, John lectured her. “Remember how Lucy said yesterday that moms need to have energy for the kids? Well, it takes food for you to get that energy.”

  “I’ll have time to eat later, John. I’m not riding out today,” she said, glaring at him.

  “Come on, Debra, I can’t hurt myself with my leg in a cast.”

  “Whatever.” She ignored him for the remainder of the meal.

  Later, as the men cleared out, she gave them their lunches as they left. She was surprised when John, the last in line, reached out for his.

  “You’re taking your lunch today?” she asked. She always fixed it in case he changed his mind. When he didn’t take it, she and the kids ate it for their noon meal.

  “Yes, I am. I thought I might really need it today.”

  “Good.” She handed it to him, expecting him to follow the others out the door. He did—but only after kissing her goodbye. Shock, then pleasure ran through her. Then panic. She wasn’t supposed to want him. It was inappropriate. He was going to fire her as soon as he could.

  “He needn’t think he can have his way with me!” she muttered to herself after he left.

  “What’s the matter, Mommy?” Andy asked. “Are you unhappy with John?”

  “No, sweetie. I’m just trying to take care of every thing.”

  Next time, she reminded herself, she’d have to remember how astute and perceptive her three-year-old was. “Finish your breakfast now, son.”

  “John said you should eat breakfast, too,” Andy said, watching her.

  She rolled her eyes. Then she picked up a piece of bacon and chewed on it. “I’m eating, see?” Now she had two males watching after her.

  Maybe Andy was spending too much time with adults, she thought.

  She wished she knew someone with a child Andy’s age. Maybe if they went to church as John said, she could meet another mother and they could work out some playtime for the children.

  After Betsy and Andy were finished, she took the baby and her playpen into John’s bedroom.

  “What are you doing, Mommy?” Andy asked, coming in after her.

  “I’m cleaning up John’s bedroom. Then I have to clean out his wife’s closet.”

  “I thought you were his wife.”

  “I’m his second wife, honey. I meant Betsy’s mother.”

  “Her clothes are still here?”

  “Yes. John said I could wear any of them I want.”

  “Oh. Can I watch television in here with you and Betsy?”

  “Okay, honey. Let me get his sheets off the bed.”

  Once she’d put them in the laundry, she dusted his room and cleaned the bathroom. Then she opened the closet door where Elizabeth’s clothes were hanging. It was like having an exclusive store where you were the only customer. Debra found a couple of pair of jeans. They were designer, but still practical enough. There were some blouses—silk, of course.

  Most of the clothes were too flashy for her but she did find two suits that she could wear to church.

  All in all, though she doubled the size of her wardrobe, she had only taken less than a tenth of Elizabeth’s wardrobe. But she agreed with Adele about selling the clothes at the fair. After all, John could use the money.

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes, sweetie?” she asked.

  “How many ladies wore all those clothes?”

  “Only one,” she said with a wry grin.

  “Wow! That’s a lot of clothes.”

  Her son was right, of course. But some of them were never worn at all. The khaki suit, for instance, which still had the tags attached.

  After she carried all the clothes to an empty closet in Betsy’s room, she put the children down for a nap and settled herself at the kitchen table to quilt. Last night she’d stayed up too late sewing. She couldn’t do that often, despite her hope to have four quilts ready to sell at the fair.

  An opportunity to sell what she made wouldn’t come along often.

  With steely determination, she worked until it was time to fix dinner.

  She stretched and poured herself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would help her.

  She moved about the kitchen on autopilot, preparing dinner. Then she heard Betsy stirring. She hurried up the stairs to collect her, changed her diaper, and she opened Andy’s bedroom door. He was quietly playing with a couple of small trucks John had given him.

  “Are you ready to get up, sweetie?”

  “Yes, Mommy. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake Betsy.”

  “You didn’t. It was time for her to get up. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.”

  Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, they heard the back door open. Debra ran toward the door. “Hello? What’s wrong?”

  “Now, Debra, it’s no big deal,” Bill said. “I just thought John had been in the saddle long enough. Is it okay if he rests here on the sofa until dinner?”

  “Of course, Uncle Bill. Andy, go get the two pillows on John’s bed for me.”

  Andy ran to John’s bedroom.

  “Don’t say anything, Debra. I should’ve been able to finish out the day,” John said, his teeth set.

  “Of course, you should’ve, Superman.” She went to the kitchen and poured him a cup of hot coffee. When she added some cookies on a saucer, she brought them back to the living room. John was shoving pillows be hind his back on the sofa.

  “Here,” Debra said, putting the cup and p
late on the big coffee table that could be reached from all three sofas. Andy eyed John’s cookies. Debra put down a napkin with cookies on it for Andy. “Don’t eat too many, sweetie. You have to eat your dinner in an hour or two.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Mommy,” Andy said, a happy smile on his face.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me not to eat too much?” John asked.

  “No, you need all the calories you can get,” she said, as if she didn’t care. But she did. In fact, over time she’d come to realize she ached for him. He’d tried to do what he thought was right. He truly was a good man.

  Every once in a while, when she paused, she would think about how wonderful it would be if they were truly married. Oh, she knew legally they were. But she dreamed of being John’s wife, of having the right to touch him when she wanted. And where she wanted.

  This was one of those times, and she reveled in her fantasies.

  After Debra was back in the kitchen, Andy leaned over and whispered, “Is Mommy mad at you?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” John replied.

  “What did you do?” the boy managed to ask through a mouthful of cookie.

  “She said I should only work a half day but I insisted on working a whole day.”

  Andy nodded. “My mom is always right.” He reached across the sofa and patted John on his good leg. “It’s okay, though. She doesn’t stay mad for long. No matter what I do, she always gives me a hug and a kiss before I go to bed.”

  John couldn’t help but grin. “I’m not sure she’ll do that for me, Andy. But thanks, anyway.”

  Unbidden, images of Debra leaning down to tuck him in snuck into his mind’s eye. The bedroom was dark…she wore her robe, open a bit as she leaned over him, giving him a glance of her creamy white skin…and she smelled that vanilla smell that he loved about her….

  Oh, yeah. He could hardly wait till bedtime.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DEBRA was working on her quilt after dinner that night when John once again distracted her.

  “There’s a good show on television. Want to come watch it with me?”

  “No, thank you. I’m busy.”

  “Do you ever watch television?”

  “Not really.” She kept her head and down and continued to work.

  She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt his hands on her shoulders. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?”

  “Hey, take it easy, Deb. I just thought I’d massage your shoulders a little. They looked stiff.”

  She felt like she was going to explode. They never touched each other, except in an emergency. His idea of massaging her shoulders wasn’t going to ease her tension. “John, is there something I need to do? Did I forget anything?”

  “No, nothing. Dinner was great tonight. I could eat another piece of cake, if there’s any left over.”

  She shoved her chair back to rise.

  “No, no, there’s not need for you to get it. I can do it. Can I cut you a piece, too?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “How much dinner did you eat?”

  “Why are you asking me that?”

  “I don’t think you’re eating enough. I bet I could put my hands around your waist and they’d meet.”

  She felt herself shrink back from him. “Let’s not try.”

  “Then let me cut you a piece of cake.”

  “Fine,” she agreed. “Cut me a piece of cake.”

  A couple of minutes later, he put a saucer with a big piece of cake on it beside her. “Do you want milk?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I’m going to have milk. I’ll just pour you a small glass.” Then he set a glass down beside her.

  She looked up, expecting to see him disappearing into the other room. Instead, he sat down across from her. “What are you doing?” she asked. She was already tired and she needed to get a lot of work done tonight. She mustn’t forget that she was only here for a little while. But John seemed to be playing a dangerous game. One that she couldn’t afford to play.

  “I’m having my snack.”

  “What about the good television show you were talking about?”

  “It’s not that good. I’d rather talk to you.”

  “John, how dense can you be? I’m working! I don’t want to chat with you. I have work I have to get done!”

  “I got that, but I don’t understand why,” John said, staring at her. “Can you tell me why it’s so important?”

  “Yes. I’m making the quilts so I can sell them at the fair next month. That way I can earn some money.”

  “Honey, if you need money, all you have to do is ask. You’ve more than earned it.”

  “No, thank you. Now go away and leave me alone.”

  He picked up his cup and dish and walked out of the kitchen without another word.

  As Debra stared after him, her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, but she did now.

  Today she’d finally admitted to herself that she was coming to care for the man. Little good it did her! Their marriage had been doomed from the start. She remembered that day in the little church, how she’d had cross words with her uncle and how John had been so cross with her.

  The tears flowed harder, unchecked down her cheeks and onto her shirt. She cried because she cared for him. Because she wanted him.

  And because she could never have him.

  So why did he keep torturing her?

  John got up early the next morning. The kitchen light was the only one on in the house. He wondered if perhaps Debra had fallen asleep at the table last night and never gone to bed.

  When he reached the kitchen, he discovered Debra was up preparing breakfast. He cleared his throat, just to let her know she wasn’t alone. She spun around. “John! What are you doing up so early?”

  “I was afraid you might not be able to get up. Need any help?”

  She didn’t appear grateful. She turned her back and kept mixing the pancake batter. “No, thank you.”

  “Debra, I’m worried about you. I want you to relax a little, enjoy life.” He wanted her to feel like she was at home, her home. To become a part of his home.

  She set the pancake batter aside and put on the coffee. “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  Then she put a large skillet on the stovetop and began frying the breakfast meats.

  John noticed that she had already made the lunches. “Debra, when did you get up this morning?”

  “A half hour ago.”

  “Is that all?” He checked his watch. It was a quarter of six. The men would be there in fifteen minutes. “You work fast.”

  “Yes, it’s all routine.”

  Then she broke eggs into a bowl.

  “We get scrambled eggs, too?”

  “Yes. Some of the men like them.”

  “I liked them. In fact, I haven’t found anything you make that I don’t like.”

  “Thank you.”

  “By the way, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Debra turned to stare at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. They’re going to deliver a washer and dryer to go in the bunkhouse this afternoon. Can you show them where to put it and make sure it all works before you let them go? And they’re delivering a television for the bunkhouse, too.”

  Debra stared at him. “Why? What are you doing?”

  “I thought I’d take a little work off your shoulders. The men can all do their own laundry. There’s no need for you to do it.”

  “But, I—”

  He stopped her. “I don’t want you to get worn-out. You need to get more sleep and eat more.”

  “Are you telling me I’m not doing my job?”

  “Hell, no! You’re doing it better than any two people could. But I didn’t mean for you to work so hard. I’m just trying to improve your quality of life a little. Is that okay?”

  “The men will think I’ve been complaining.”


  “No, they won’t. I’ll tell them. I’ll take the blame. I’m too jealous to have my wife tired because she’s folding some other guy’s underwear.”

  “That’s ridiculous. They’ll never believe that!”

  “I don’t know why not. It’s the truth.”

  “No, it’s not!”

  He gripped her shoulders. “I want all your attention focused on me and Betsy. That’s normal. It’s the other way that isn’t.” Then he kissed her.

  Debra’s first thought was he was getting very good at kissing her. Then she wondered why he was kissing her. She shoved him back. “Stop that!”

  “Why? I liked it.” He lowered his head again.

  “Something’s burning!” She spun around and speared a piece of ham that had burnt to a crisp.

  “Debra,” he began, but she stopped him.

  “I have to have breakfast on the table in ten minutes. Why don’t you go get the kids?”

  John couldn’t very well refuse to do that now, not after he’d told her he was there to help her. He went upstairs, slowly and dejectedly, muttering to himself, “Why didn’t I tell her I wanted to be alone with her and kiss her?”

  Debra closed her eyes for only a moment after John left the kitchen. She had to make sure he stopped the kissing. It was too much.

  Then, after looking at her watch, she continued preparing breakfast before the men arrived.

  She wondered how they would take the announcement that they were to do their own laundry. As she cut out biscuits and put them in a pan, she hoped they wouldn’t think they’d caused her too much trouble. They were appreciative of what she did.

  Was John buying them a television so they wouldn’t hang out in the living room here? And where was he getting all this money? Why hadn’t he already hired a housekeeper? Suddenly, she realized maybe she didn’t have as much time here as she’d thought.

  Just then, John came back into the kitchen with Betsy. She reached out a hand for Debra and called, “Ma-ma!”

  “Good morning, sweetie,” Debra said, leaning over to give her a kiss.

  John put her in her high chair. “Andy will be down in a minute. He’s such a good kid.”