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

  Karen gave her another hug. “I am so glad to see you in person. I watch you on TV all the time, but it’s not the same.”

  “It’s good to see you, too.” And it really was.

  “How’s business?” Karen asked.

  “Overwhelming.” She’d hired an additional publicist, Joanne Gladding, to handle the George Lynch fallout. Joanne was a go-getter, but Merry wasn’t sure that Joanne was right for her. She’d hired her anyway, though, because she was leaving on this trip, and the matter had to be deflected immediately.

  Whenever Merry thought of the tabloid articles, a new layer of humiliation settled like lead in her chest. Her parents were still absolutely furious with her about the one before George Lynch—her assistant director Mick, who also blabbed to the tabloids about their relationship.

  Her parents. They never missed an opportunity to remind her not to get involved with an “underling” ever again, saying that her actions reflected on them and their business, too.

  She never could win with them. Yet something inside her still made her want to keep trying.

  Merry pushed her parents and the George Lynch fiasco to the back of her mind. She was going to enjoy her time here.

  “I have some presents for you from Boston and Rhode Island.” Merry opened the trunk of the car and began to lift out some boxes. “I hope everything made it in good shape.”

  She handed Karen a couple of the boxes. “This is chocolate-covered fruit from that shop by City Hall, and this one contains those cookies we lived on in college. And I bought some homemade bagels from Mrs. Jeeter, who said to say hello to you. And…ta-da…some New England clam chowder, packed in dry ice, fresh this morning from Clamdiggers.”

  “Be still my heart.” Karen laughed. “But no clam cakes from Rhode Island?”

  Merry pulled out a bright purple bag. “Two dozen of them right from Point Judith.”

  “You’re a sweetheart.”

  Singing the song they’d made up about Johnson & Wales University, their alma mater, they climbed the stairs and entered the ranch house.

  Merry stood on the thick, glazed Mexican tiles and looked at the brightly striped serapes over the couches and side chairs, the rough-hewn beams, the beehive fireplace in the corner and the thick wood furniture. She could smell fresh paint.

  “Karen, it’s beautiful. The pictures you sent didn’t do it justice. The architecture is magnificent. It’s so homey.”

  Peeking out from behind one of the couches was a small, blond-haired girl with big blue eyes—just like Buck’s. She had two straight ponytails that started high on her head and brushed her thin shoulders.

  Caitlin. Merry gave a cheery wave and a wink to the little girl, who then disappeared back behind the couch.

  Merry raised an eyebrow at Karen.

  “Cait, come and meet my good friend Meredith Turner,” Karen said. “You know her. We watch her on TV all the time.”

  But there was no sign of Cait again.

  Karen turned to Merry and shrugged. “She just loves to watch Making Merry with Merry with me. She even helped me make your chocolate-chip snowball cookies last Christmas.”

  “Maybe we can make them together, even though it’s not Christmastime. I like them all through the year.” Merry felt as if she was doing the dialogue from her show.

  Merry deposited her tote bag on the gleaming plank floor and looked around again. “It’s perfect, Karen. Your guests could gather here and play cards, or read a book by the fire, or just talk.”

  “I can’t wait,” Buck said sarcastically, walking into the room.

  “Buck, for heaven’s sake, Merry is trying to help us.” Karen lifted her hands in the air, as if she were giving up.

  “And to that end, I was thinking of a feature on my show once the ranch opens, like a ‘before and after’ segment. I can get a crew out here, and they can start filming the ‘before’ segment.”

  “Think of the publicity. It’d be fabulous.” Karen clasped her hands together.

  “You’ll also need a brochure and a commercial. We might as well take care of both of those, too.” Merry leafed through her notebook. “I have some ideas.”

  “Excellent,” Karen said. “I knew you’d help.”

  Merry eyed Buck. He seemed less than thrilled. Matter of fact, his face looked like he had just eaten something sour. “Karen, you were the business major, you have to tell me your ideas.”

  “Let’s have some chowder and clam cakes first.” She looked into the bags and pulled out plastic containers. “Then we can talk business.”

  “It’s a deal, but I’d like to change first, if you don’t mind,” Merry said. “Some burros thought my suit was lunch.”

  “I can’t wait to hear that story.” Karen laughed and raised a shopping bag in the direction of a hallway. “Last door on the right. I’ll show you.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m fine. You go and find a place for all the goodies.”

  “Don’t be long,” Karen said. “I can’t wait to catch up.”

  Merry felt a warm feeling building inside and spreading out. She hadn’t felt that in a long time. Real friends were hard to find, and Karen was a real friend.

  Merry inched down the hall to the bedroom, stopping at frequent intervals to admire the bold paintings of cowboys and cowgirls at work. She hoped to catch another glimpse of Caitlin somewhere.

  “Would you like to join us, Buck?” Merry heard Karen say.

  “No, thanks. I’d rather muck the stalls,” he answered. Then the door slammed.

  She flicked the light on in Buck’s bedroom. She had to brace herself against the sheer force of masculinity. It was a man’s room with its big, thick furniture and no frills. Her gaze focused on the centerpiece of the room, a bed that looked as if it had been shaped from a fallen tree.

  Merry was instantly drawn to the bed. She inspected every inch of it, and reminded herself to ask Karen who the artist was that had created such a masterpiece. For heaven’s sake, it looked as if there were some buds ready to bloom on some of the branches that were twisted to form the headboard. More branches formed a canopy above. It was almost as if the wood were still alive.

  She imagined lying on the bed as green leaves and flowers cascaded above.

  Exquisite.

  A vivid blanket in blocks of stripes and arrow designs covered the bed, and she couldn’t resist inspecting the workmanship. It was handmade, and unless she missed her guess, it was the genuine Native American article.

  She noticed a huge bleached-wood armoire that was the focal point of one wall. A matching seven-foot-long dresser lined another, and on each side of the bed were matching nightstands accented with saguaro cacti ribs in the doors. She had seen similar pieces in galleries in New York City and Boston, but nothing as magnificent as these.

  Against another wall was a couch, but on closer inspection, she saw it was actually a futon or a daybed. The arms were of thick wood with inserts of some kind of long, spindly, bleached wood on the back for ornamentation. Lying on one of the colorful cushions of the futon was a beat-up, floppy stuffed cat. She assumed it was Caitlin’s.

  Merry picked up the pathetic beige cat with only one eye, and remembered a similar cat. Hers. She’d called it Bonita, and she had been a Christmas gift from Pamela, their housekeeper and cook, because her parents wouldn’t let her have the real thing, no matter how much she begged or no matter how good she was.

  Merry had cried many times into Bonita’s gray fur. Once, she remembered coming home to find Bonita missing. She looked all over the house, sobbing. Finally, her mother had ordered her to stop crying and told her she was too old to play with a stuffed cat.

  Merry had been inconsolable. She knew in her heart that her mother had thrown Bonita away. The cat had become too dirty and too worn to be a resident of the Beacon Hill house any longer.

  She returned the cat to its exact place and chuckled as she remembered how she’d rescued Bonita from the trash can in the alleyway in the dead o
f night.

  She’d hid Bonita from her parents from then on. Currently, her childhood confidant, lovingly mended and with additional stuffing, rested on an antique rocking chair in the bedroom of her condo.

  She looked at all of the various cowboy and Indian artifacts that were displayed in the room. Each piece was a work of art and seemed to be positioned perfectly.

  If all the guestrooms looked like this, and with the media blitz that Merry had planned, the phone would soon be ringing off the hook with people making reservations for the Rattlesnake Dude Ranch.

  Gingerly, she sat down at the edge of the bed, and bent back to study the twisted canopy of branches over her head. She imagined Buck lounging on the bed, wearing nothing but his hat, holding out his hand for her to join him there.

  Suddenly feeling warm and jittery, she jumped up and walked over to the huge windows lining the three walls. She could see the corral and the barn and the setting sun, which was just about to disappear in a blaze of orange and yellow behind the craggy mountain that seemed close enough to touch.

  She noticed Caitlin pressed against the barn, covertly watching her father brush Bandit. Buck must have spotted the girl because he set the horse’s brush on a post, and walked over toward Caitlin, smiling. But instead of staying to talk to him, she ran away.

  Through the open window, she could hear him call to her. “Caitlin. Cait.” She could hear the anguish in his voice, see him shake his head and kick the dirt with a booted foot.

  The girl was running fast, down past the barn, until she vanished behind another outbuilding.

  He turned back to Bandit. As he petted the horse’s neck, she heard the deep rich tones of Buck’s voice. Although she couldn’t make out his words, Bandit nodded as if he understood what Buck was saying to him.

  She’d always heard that a cowboy’s horse was his best friend. Now she believed it.

  As she was about to get ready, she saw Karen blazing a quick trail to Buck. Angry words floated on the air, and Merry wondered what they were fighting about, not that it was any of her business. She knew that Karen was close to all her siblings, and they shared exactly what was on their minds. That was one of the things that Merry had always envied, the fact that Karen had a large, close family and they all cared for one another.

  An only child, Merry had been nothing but lonely.

  As if Buck and Karen sensed her presence, they both turned and stared. Startled, she backed away from the window, but not before she saw Buck shake his head and Karen cover her mouth with her hand as they noticed her watching them.

  With a sinking feeling, she turned away, opened her suitcase and changed into a pair of expensive new jeans she’d just bought, and a peach blouse that felt silky against her skin.

  Karen would tease her unmercifully when she saw her in designer ranch clothes. Merry smiled. She hadn’t been teased in a long time, and she needed it.

  A gray cloud intruded on her light mood as she thought of the scene she’d just witnessed between brother and sister. She already knew that Buck didn’t particularly want her here, but why? Surely, he wanted the Rattlesnake Ranch to generate a big profit. Didn’t he?

  Well, that was the reason she was here. It would be an added bonus if she could get a little rest and relaxation. She needed it desperately. And maybe she could think about how to get a handle on her own business. It was getting too hard to manage with all the culinary products she’d been venturing into—pots and pan, a line of spices, stainless steel utensils, synthetic bakeware and heaven knows what else.

  It seemed that lately everyone wanted a piece of her.

  Merry let her hand glide over the exquisite bureau one more time and glanced over her shoulder at the incredible tree bed. Then she closed the door behind her and went to find Karen.

  She needed to know what was going on before she decided whether or not to unpack.

  Chapter Three

  M erry leaned against the rounded archway to the kitchen and studied her friend. “So tell me what progress you’ve made on the dude ranch idea, and tell me what’s going on with your brother, not necessarily in that order.”

  “I never could keep anything from you.” Karen smiled as she set plates, mugs and bowls on a thick pine table.

  Merry walked over to the table, picked up a plate and studied the artwork. A sketch of a cowboy galloping his horse and roping a calf was centered in the middle. Under the drawing were two Rs back-to-back with a wavy line under them.

  “That’s our brand,” Karen said. “And that’s my father roping that steer. My mother drew it and had the plates made years ago.”

  Merry thought about the time and trouble Karen’s mother had expended to make such a personal gift that meant something to the whole family. It was in stark contrast to the very expensive, very bland, English bone china with the gold-leaf border of the Turner family.

  “You know, Karen, I think that if you get mugs made up in this pattern, your guests would buy them for souvenirs. Have you thought of a gift shop? It would be perfect in a corner of the lobby—I mean the living room.”

  Karen ladled clam chowder into bowls and the steamy soup scented the air. “Before we discuss the dude ranch, I have something to tell you.”

  Merry noticed that her friend’s face was somber. Whatever she was going to say wasn’t good news. Merry put the plate down, pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “I just took a call from my doctor. I have to have my gallbladder out in three days.”

  Merry reached for her friend’s hand and squeezed it. “I didn’t know you were having trouble. You never said anything.”

  Karen took a deep breath. “It’s all so sudden—the surgery, I mean. But I’ve been having pain for a long time now. And it’s getting worse. It was selfish of me not to call you and tell you to postpone your trip, but I wanted you here. I couldn’t leave the ranch in such a state of flux, especially when we’re hoping to have our first guests in a few months. I didn’t want to call Louise. Her bar exam is this week and—”

  Merry took a deep breath. Already her brain was listing things she needed to do. Where was her notebook?

  “Leave your sister where she is, and don’t worry about a thing. Meredith Bingham Turner, the Goddess of Hospitality, is on the scene,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “How long will you be in the hospital? Are you having laser surgery?” Merry knew that laser surgery had a quicker recovery time.

  “No such luck. They have to take it out the old-fashioned way. They think I’ll have to stay in the hospital about four or five days.”

  Merry bit back her disappointment. She’d been looking forward to spending a lot of time with Karen, just like the old days when they were living at the dorm.

  Well, she could still have the long talks. Merry would just have to visit Karen in the hospital.

  “There’s something else.” Karen grimaced as tears shimmered in her eyes.

  Merry prayed that Karen wouldn’t tell her that she had more health problems.

  “It’s nothing too serious.” Karen opened one of the boxes that contained a Boston cream pie. “I need a favor, and I know it’s an awful imposition, especially when you told me over the phone that you were burned out and needed a break after all that horrible publicity about you and…and what’s his name?”

  “George Lynch, but forget about him. My good friend needs me. I can take care of things on the home front.”

  “Thanks. I knew you would.” Karen smiled weakly. “But there’s Caitlin. She needs someone to watch over her. Buck is so busy with the cattle and all.”

  A door opened to the mudroom off the kitchen, and Merry recognized the white duster and white hat through the glass-topped door. Buck. She heard the sound of something hitting the floor—his boots.

  Karen’s eyes darted to her brother, and she stood. “How about some coffee, Buck? I was just about to make some for Merry and me.”

  “Sit down, sis. I can get it.”

  Suddenly, Karen g
asped and doubled over. Buck hurried to her side, holding her so she wouldn’t fall.

  “I can’t take it anymore.” Karen puffed out the words, grimacing in pain.

  Merry rushed to her other side. “What can I do?”

  Buck thrust out his chin in the direction of the phone on the wall. “Call 911 and get an ambulance here. Then get a hold of Doc Goodwater.”

  She barely had time to nod before Karen gasped again. Buck swept Karen off her feet and held her. She groaned into his chest.

  “The doc’s number is tacked to the bulletin board on the side of the phone,” Buck advised. “Let him know Karen’s on her way to the hospital. Tell him that her surgery has just been moved up.”

  Merry hurried toward the phone. Buck left the kitchen, still with Karen in his arms. She could hear them talking in the living room.

  When the 911 operator asked Merry the location, she realized that she had no idea where she was. She could only say “Rattlesnake Ranch.”

  “Buck Turner’s place?” the operator replied. “What’s wrong?”

  Thank goodness for small towns. “Gallbladder. Karen.”

  “An ambulance is on the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  Merry punched in the doctor’s number and left a message with his service.

  Then she poured Karen a glass of water and hurried into the living room with it.

  Karen was curled up on the couch with some pillows under her head. Buck sat on the edge of the couch and held on to his sister’s hand.

  “What about the ambulance?” Buck asked her.

  “It’s on the way.”

  “Thank you.” His deep voice was rich with emotion when he spoke those two little words. Gratitude showed in his eyes, and it was obvious that he was glad she was there to assist him. That made Merry warm right down to her toes.

  “The pain is gone,” Karen said. “I’m okay now. I can last until the operation.”

  No,” Buck said. “This has gone on long enough.”

  Karen winked at Merry. “If I were a sick horse, he would have put me out of my misery a long time ago.”

  She took a sharp breath and closed her eyes, and the slow stream of a tear traced a path to her ear. Her pain was back.