Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)

by BAUER, Pamela

  “Appearances can be deceptive,” she said as much to herself as to Jeremy. “You’re willing to give him a chance, aren’t you?”

  He was silent for several seconds before finally saying, “I am. But Mom’s going to be really mad when she finds out.”

  “Is THERE A REASON the windows are open in the bunkhouse?” Hannah asked, the moment she stepped into the kitchen. Ever since her grandfather’s death, the bunkhouse had been empty. She saw no reason to use the building that at one time had been home to the extra farm hands. She could no longer afford live-in help. Besides, there were memories in that building she would just as soon forget.

  “I’m airing it out.” Gabby turned her back to her niece, busying herself at the stove where she had several pots on the burners.

  “I thought we were in agreement that it wouldn’t be used.”

  Just then Jeremy burst into the kitchen. “Hey, Mom. Did you get the bedding for the chickens?”

  “Yes, it’s in the back of the pickup,” Hannah answered. “What did you do after school today?” she asked as he reached for a handful of grapes.

  Jeremy looked at his great-aunt before he answered. “I helped Gabby.”

  “Do what?”

  He shrugged. “Stuff.”

  Hannah didn’t miss the guarded glances that passed between Gabby and Jeremy. “Like what stuff?”

  Gabby avoided answering by saying, “Oooh. I like what Marlis did with your hair! Turn around and let me see the back.”

  Hannah did as she was told. “She layered it. She said it would have more bounce.” She chuckled softly. “As if I need bouncy hair.”

  “It looks nice, Mom.”

  Hannah eyed her son suspiciously. In all of his ten years he had yet to comment on her hairstyle.

  “I’m glad you didn’t cut it short,” Gabby added.

  “Marlis wouldn’t. She said most women spend hours getting curls like mine and she wasn’t going to watch them go to waste on the floor.” Hannah ran her fingers through the blond layers.

  “We’d better eat. The food’s ready!” Gabby announced, fluttering about with her hot pads flapping in the air.

  Hannah helped Gabby cany the serving dishes to the table. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little flushed.”

  She heaved a sigh before she said, “I think I did too much walking today.”

  “Walking?”

  Gabby took her place at the head of the table. “I went with Jeremy to help him find Outlaw.”

  “He was out during the storm, and I thought he might have been hurt,” Jeremy explained, turning his attention to the soup in front of him.

  Hannah looked at Gabby. “What storm?”

  “It was only a brief shower,” her aunt insisted.

  “It sure had a lot of lightning,” Jeremy exclaimed. “You know that big oak out in the Nelson forty? It got hit by lightning and split right down the middle.”

  “What were you doing out at the Nelson forty anyway?”

  “I told you. Looking for Outlaw.” Jeremy reached for a slice of bread.

  Hannah looked at Gabby. “No wonder you’re feeling the heat. You shouldn’t have walked all the way out there.”

  “I was worried,” she said, lowering her eyes.

  Hannah looked at her quizzically. “And then you came back here and cleaned out the bunkhouse?”

  “We didn’t exactly clean it. We swept it out and opened the windows,” Gabby told her. She exchanged another guarded glance with Jeremy.

  Hannah didn’t know what the looks passing between her aunt and her son meant, but she had a hunch they shared a secret and it had something to do with the bunkhouse.

  She set down her fork with a clang. “All right. What’s going on?”

  Both shot her looks that were as innocent as a baby’s. “Nothing,” they echoed in unison.

  “Jeremy, do you want to have a sleep-over? Is that why you had Gabby help you clean it?”

  Gabby giggled nervously. “She caught us red-handed, Jeremy. We better ’fess up.”

  Jeremy didn’t look as if he wanted to confess anything.

  “I told Jeremy to ask you if it would be okay to use the bunkhouse for guests, but he was worried that you’d be upset. You know why.” She gave Hannah a knowing look.

  “You get a really sad look on your face whenever you go by there.” Jeremy added.

  Hannah knew what he said was true. Just walking by the bunkhouse created a dull ache in her heart. What Jeremy didn’t realize was that the old building held memories she wanted to forget. It was there that she had met Jeremy’s father, a young man who had come to help her grandfather on the farm. He had given her the best summer of her life, promised her the moon, then left without even saying goodbye. He and all the other men in her life who followed him had proved one thing—men don’t stay. But she couldn’t tell that to Jeremy.

  “Have you two forgotten that there’s no bathroom in the bunkhouse?”

  Jeremy’s eyes met Gabby’s. “Oh-oh. I guess that means if a person sleeps out there, he’ll just have to come inside to go to the bathroom.”

  “No,” Hannah said firmly. “If we have any guests, they’ll sleep in the house. I don’t want anyone using the bunkhouse.”

  That ended the discussion, and the rest of the dinner talk centered on harvest preparations. Gabby had just brought the apple strudel to the table when Outlaw began to bark.

  “What’s with Outlaw?” Hannah asked.

  “I’ll go check.” Jeremy’s chair scraped the floor as he stood, but Hannah stopped him.

  “Finish your dinner. I’ll look.”

  When Hannah gazed out the screen door, the sun was setting, creating shadows and limiting her range of vision. What she could see, however, was Outlaw’s tail wagging like crazy beside a large oak tree.

  “He must have a squirrel cornered.” Hannah’s statement produced audible sighs from her aunt and son.

  “Jeremy, why don’t you bring him inside,” Gabby suggested nervously.

  Jeremy went to the screen door and ordered the dog to come in, but he ignored the commands. “I’ll go get him. He’s being stubborn again.”

  A few minutes later he returned with Outlaw. Two red spots brightened Jeremy’s cheeks, his eyes were wide. “Gabby, we’ve got a problem!”

  “What’s wrong?” Hannah demanded.

  “He’s gone!” Jeremy squeaked.

  “Gone?” Gabby repeated, dropping her knife and folk on her plate.

  “Who’s gone?” Hannah wanted to know, but neither Gabby nor her son answered. Both went scampering out the door, Outlaw trailing on their heels. “Is there someone in the bunkhouse?” Hannah asked, as she followed.

  Into the wooden building they marched. Hannah saw the basin of water on the nightstand. “All right, what’s going on? Who was in here?”

  “A sick man.” Gabby wrung her handkerchief in her hands. “And now he’s wandering around out there, delirious. He had too much sun.” She moaned. “Jeremy, do you think Outlaw scared him away?”

  “He liked him,” Jeremy said.

  “Him who?” Hannah demanded in frustration.

  Suddenly Outlaw stopped barking, and a man’s voice echoed in the still, evening air. “Hannah! Hannah!”

  “He’s not gone!” Jeremy declared wide-eyed and headed for the door.

  Gabby followed him saying, “He shouldn’t be out of bed, not in his condition.”

  “Would someone please tell me what is going on here?” Hannah said in frustration as once more she was forced to follow the two of them. “Why is there a man calling my name?” She detained Gabby with a hand on her arm. “Gabby, is he a friend of yours?”

  Before she could answer, Jeremy shouted, “There he is. By the barn!”

  All Hannah could see in the setting sun was the silhouette of a man. As she followed Gabby and Jeremy, she heard the man call out to her.

  “Hannah? Is that you?”

  Perplexed, Hannah looked at Gabby. “
Do I know this man?”

  “Not yet,” Gabby answered.

  Suddenly he came staggering toward her. Fear caused Hannah’s nerves to tingle as he came closer and she saw how dirty he was.

  “The good Lord must have answered my prayers. I prayed for an angel to save me and here you are.” His eyes raked her from head to toe. “You’re pretty, too. I’d better say a prayer of thanks to the Almighty.” He looked as if he wanted to wrap his arms around her, but before he could reach out and touch her he fell in a heap at her feet.

  “See, I told you he’s not well,” Gabby fretted, stooping down to place an ear to his chest. After several seconds she looked up at the two who stood with mouths agape.

  “He’s breathing.”

  “Are you telling me that this is the reason why you cleaned up the bunkhouse? So that this...this...derelict could have a place to sleep?” Hannah’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

  “He’s not a derelict,” Gabby responded.

  “Jeremy, run back to the house and call Red Murphy,” Hannah ordered her son. “Tell him there’s a drunk passed out on our lawn.”

  “No! You can’t do that!” Gabby protested. “He’s not drunk. He’s suffering from heat exhaustion. That’s all. See how sunburned his face is.”

  Hannah grimaced. “All I see is dirt. He’s a grub!”

  “He’s not that bad.” Gabby tugged on his lapels, trying to straighten the wrinkles from the fabric. It was useless. The garment still looked like it came out of a rag bag.

  “Look at him,” Hannah said derisively. “His clothes are filthy, he hasn’t shaved...” she trailed off in frustration, failing to understand how her aunt could have allowed this man onto their farm. “Gabby, who is this man, and why is he using our bunkhouse?”

  Gabby shifted from foot to foot, then looked around nervously. Finally, she said in a shaky little voice, “His name is Alfred and he’s our guest. I invited him to stay with us.” She hadn’t lied—not really. She simply didn’t bother to explain that Alfred was Hannah’s future husband.

  Chapter Three

  Uneasiness churned Hannah’s stomach. She didn’t want to believe that this man could possibly be Gabby’s suitor. It was one thing for her aunt to date stodgy old Bernie Lamphart, quite another for it to be a man half her age who looked like something the cat dragged in.

  Hannah asked the dreaded question. “Why have you invited him to stay with us?”

  She didn’t get a direct answer.

  “I know he looks as if he’s a little down on his luck right now, but he’s quite respectable. I’ve checked his references,” Gabby stated primly, as if she were seated behind a desk at the library.

  “References for what?”

  “For his character. Just because I haven’t had much experience with men doesn’t mean I’m stupid!”

  Experience with men? Hannah swallowed with difficulty. “He is your boyfriend!”

  “No, he’s not my boyfriend.” Gabby made a disgruntled sound that questioned how she could even entertain such an idea. “He’s young enough to be my grandson!”

  Hannah exhaled in relief. “Then who is he and why is he here?”

  “His name is Alfred Dumler. He’s from Nebraska. He’s here because—Well, it’s like this....” she hemmed and hawed then finally said, “I was reading the want ads in the farm journal and—”

  Hannah’s hand flew to her chest. “You didn’t answer one of those ads put in by people who are looking for work, did you?”

  “Not exactly,” Gabby replied, giving the unconscious man a quick, apprehensive glance.

  Not exactly? “Gabby, please tell me you didn’t find this man in the want ads.” When her aunt didn’t reply, Hannah groaned. “Oh, my gosh! You did, didn’t you?”

  “You don’t need to get upset. It’s all right. I told you—I’ve checked his references.”

  Hannah tried not to panic. She wet her lips and calmly asked, “Did you hire him?”

  “I wouldn’t do that—not without asking you first,” she said contritely.

  Relief rushed through Hannah, and she pushed the bouncy curls back from her forehead. “Thank goodness. That means he can leave.”

  “No, he can’t leave!” Gabby objected. “I asked him to come here.”

  It was with a great effort that Hannah controlled her temper. “We’ve talked about this before, Gabby, and you know we can’t afford to hire anyone other than Barry and certainly not someone we have to board.”

  “He could turn out to be just what we need around here,” her aunt argued. “Alfred knows a lot about farming. I’ve checked him out. I even did a credit report.”

  “Obviously not a very thorough one,” Hannah retorted, looking at him disdainfully.

  “I admit, he looks a bit strange, but it’s only because he’s not well. In the picture I have of him in my room he’s all neat and clean. I can get it for you, if you want.”

  “I don’t care how he looks in a picture,” Hannah said impatiently. “It’s the way he looks now.”

  “He looks like someone in need of care, and I don’t think we should be standing here doing nothing,” Gabby said in a maternal tone. “We should help him get back to bed.” She turned to Jeremy and said, “You take his feet and your mom and I will lift his shoulders.”

  Jeremy nodded.

  “Wait a minute.” Hannah folded her arms across her chest. “Where do you think you’re taking him?”

  “To the bunkhouse. But if you’d rather he stay in the guest room at the house....” Gabby suggested innocently.

  “No, I don’t want him in the guest room at the house! I don’t want him anywhere on this property.” Hannah could feel the color rush to her cheeks.

  “But, Mom, he’s sick!” Jeremy protested.

  Censure sharpened Gabby’s features. “We can’t just turn him away.”

  “Oh, yes we can,” Hannah contradicted her.

  Gabby, in her sternest librarian’s voice, said, “Hannah Marie Davis, your mother would roll over in her grave if she knew you were thinking about refusing help to someone in need. Not to mention I invited him here.”

  Hannah could have screamed in frustration. What had possessed her aunt to do something so irresponsible? It was true that Gabby had been prone to quirky behavior at times, but until now, none of her whimsies had ever landed them with an unwanted man on their doorstep.

  She looked down at the unkempt stranger and felt a twinge of compassion. He did look rather pathetic. She already had a dozen stray cats wandering about the place....

  She supposed she could let him stay—at least until he was well enough to travel back to Nebraska. “Oh, all right,” she grumbled.

  With a sigh, she stooped down and lifted the man’s shoulders, leaving Jeremy and Gabby to wrestle with the rest of him. “All I can say is thank goodness he doesn’t smell,” Hannah muttered as the three of them hobbled their way back to the bunkhouse. His clothes were the coarsest cotton she had ever felt, and she wondered if he’d found them at a homeless shelter.

  As soon as they had managed to get the stranger onto one of the wrought-iron beds, she dusted off her hands, saying, “He’d probably weigh twenty pounds less if he washed his clothes.”

  Gabby ignored her comment because Wood stirred. “Look. He’s coming round again. He’s probably hungry.” She looked pointedly at Hannah.

  “You want me to get him something?”

  “There are plenty of mashed potatoes left.” Gabby looked at her expectantly. “And tea is always therapeutic. Oh, and it probably would be a good idea to take his temperature. There’s a thermometer in the medicine chest.”

  “Maybe you should just make a list,” Hannah drawled sarcastically, then did as her aunt requested.

  Alone with Wood, Gabby and Jeremy watched him toss and turn. “You think he’s having a bad dream or something?” Jeremy asked.

  Gabby pressed a hand to his forehead. “He’s awfully warm. Maybe he has a fever.”

 
; At her touch Wood’s eyes fluttered open. “Where am I?”

  “You’re on the Davis farm,” Gabby answered him. “Remember us? I’m Gabby and this is Jeremy.”

  Wood raised himself on one elbow and looked around. “I’m not at the Nelsons’ then.”

  Gabby gave him a puzzling look. “The Nelsons sold out twenty-five years ago.”

  Wood’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

  Sensing his confusion, Gabby repeated, “This is the Davis farm. You came here to meet Hannah, remember?”

  At the mention of his sister’s name, Wood sighed. “She’s really here then?”

  “Yes. She just went to get you something to eat. Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m a little dizzy,” he admitted, falling back down and closing his eyes.

  “I think you may have a fever. Maybe I should call the doctor.”

  At that his eyes shot open. “No! No doctor.”

  Just then Hannah called through the screen door for Jeremy’s help. While Jeremy carried the tray with a cup of tea and a bowl of mashed potatoes over to Gabby, Hannah remained in the background.

  “Do you feel up to eating?” Gabby asked Wood, who winced as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. He sank back down against the pillow and told Gabby, “I can’t do it. I feel as if my body’s made of straw.”

  Concern lined her face. “I’ll help you. You just open up and I’ll spoon it in.”

  “I like to tend to my own needs, ma’am, but I’d be obliged if you’d do just that.” He opened his mouth, and she shoved the potatoes inside.

  When he winced she asked, “You don’t like them?”

  “They taste good, ma’am, it’s just that it hurts to swallow.”

  Gabby gave him a sip of the tea. “Here. Drink this. It’ll make your throat feel better.”

  Wood did as he was told. Gabby fed him a couple more scoops of the potatoes before his eyes drifted shut. “Alfred?” she repeated his name several times, but he didn’t answer.

  “Do you think he’s all right?” Jeremy asked in an anxious whisper.

  “Gabby, how sick is this guy?” Hannah came closer to the bed.

  “He said he doesn’t need a doctor,” Gabby answered.