Letter to a Lonesome Cowboy

by Jackie Merritt

  “She’s just gonna haul me back to Baltimore,” Mack mumbled unhappily.

  Rand glanced around the spotless kitchen. “Obviously she doesn’t like a messy kitchen.”

  “She doesn’t like anything messy,” Mack said gloomily.

  “Well, cheer up, Mack. She might be planning to take you back to Baltimore, but it’s not going to happen right away.”

  Suzanne had heard the men come in and had hurried from her bedroom to the kitchen. She walked in just as Rand made that comment about her and Mack’s return to Baltimore not happening right away.

  “Why isn’t it going to happen right away?” she demanded while glaring at her brother. Mack stepped behind Rand, as though putting a barrier between himself and his sister’s wrath.

  “Because the roads are completely drifted over,” Rand told her, feeling the strongest compulsion to laugh because of Mack hiding behind him and trying to look invisible.

  “You made it to Whitehorn and back last night,” Suzanne reminded him a bit sharply.

  Rand couldn’t suppress a smile any longer. Mack glued to his back, Suzanne looking as though she would like to strangle someone—it seemed pretty funny. “Simmer down, sweetheart,” Rand drawled. “Last night and today are worlds apart.” He heard Mack snicker and jabbed the boy with his elbow. He could laugh about this, but not Mack. Not after what he’d pulled on his sister. “Have you taken a look outside this morning?”

  “Of course I looked outside! The whole bunkhouse was totally deserted when I got up, you know.”

  “Then you know there’s about three feet more snow on the ground than there was when I drove to town,” Rand retorted. “And the reason the bunkhouse was deserted when you got up was because we had to get an early start on feeding the cattle.”

  Mack stuck his head around Rand’s arm. “We’ve been hauling hay with horses and sleds,” he said to his sister, as proudly as if he had introduced the practice to snowed-in ranchers.

  Suzanne shot Mack a dirty look, and he quickly ducked out of sight again. “Would you please stop acting as though I beat you on a regular basis?” she shrieked.

  “She does, Rand,” Mack whispered.

  Rand laughed right out loud. “Don’t kid a kidder, Mack.”

  “What did he say?” Suzanne snapped at Rand.

  “Nothing you’d be interested in,” Rand replied evenly. Even though he didn’t approve of what Mack had done, he couldn’t help liking the boy and his wide-eyed enthusiasm for everything on the ranch. Plus, the way Mack had worked this morning, he deserved some consideration in Rand’s opinion. “Incidentally, thanks for cleaning the kitchen.”

  Suzanne’s lips pursed. She was still mad as hell at both Rand Harding and her brother, and she couldn’t help showing it. “I have never seen a worse mess in my life. If that’s the norm around here…”

  “It isn’t.” Rand was taking in Suzanne’s fetching outfit. Her dark, shoulder-length hair was shiny clean and gleaming with auburn highlights, and her lips and cheeks had a pink, healthy sheen. Even with anger shooting from her heavily lashed dark eyes, she was one very pretty woman, and he truly enjoyed looking at her.

  However, she didn’t seem exactly receptive to male admiration at the moment, so he cleared his throat in an attempt to clear his mind of such personal thoughts. “Normally we have a cook. It was just starting to snow last night when Handy—that’s his name—had to leave for a family emergency. Not very long before you got here, as a matter of fact. The two of you might even have passed each other on the road.”

  Suzanne’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, which Rand didn’t miss. “I did not see one single car when I drove out here,” she said in a rather haughty manner.

  Rand ignored the queen-for-a-day tone of her voice and shrugged. “Guess Handy could have taken a different road. Anyway, thanks for cleaning up. Mack and I are going to make some lunch for the men now, aren’t we, Mack?”

  Mack squirmed, then took one very small step to stand at Rand’s side. “Suzanne, don’t be mad,” he pleaded.

  “Don’t be mad! Mack, do you have any realistic idea of what you’ve done?” She didn’t want to talk about money—or their lack thereof—in front of Rand, but the subject was all but written in her eyes. Mack visibly cringed, and Suzanne knew he was fully aware to what she was referring. He had wasted their very slim savings on a foolish trip to Montana, and forced her to do the same. His was not a minor prank, not by a long shot, and it was going to be a very long time before she forgave him.

  Rand broke in. “Look, if you two need to talk, go on into the office. I’ve got a dozen hungry men to feed before we go out again and finish today’s work.”

  “I’m going with you again,” Mack said to Rand. He dared to look at his sister. “And I’m gonna help make lunch, too.”

  Mack was different, Suzanne realized with no small amount of surprise. What was there about this place that had changed him from a lazy, apathetic, sullen boy into a young man not only willing but eager to help out? Her gaze moved to Rand. Was it this man’s doing?

  But Mack had only been in Harding’s company a few hours longer than herself. Well, maybe a day longer, she conceded, eight or nine hours longer, but that certainly wasn’t time enough for anyone to change another person’s entire personality.

  However, the changes she sensed in her brother were positive changes, and she had to wonder if he would revert back to his former smart-alecky self when they returned to Baltimore.

  She suddenly wasn’t so sure of herself. Not that she could have stayed in Baltimore and done nothing after learning her fourteen-year-old brother had run away to go to Montana. But herself arriving angry, and showing anger now, could be a mistake. There was something going on with Mack—maybe had been for a long time—that she didn’t know about. Something he’d never talked about. Would he talk about it now?

  No, not this minute, she decided. But later, maybe this evening.

  “Would you like me to help with lunch, too?” she asked quietly.

  Her abrupt turnabout startled Rand, but he could sure use her help. “You bet,” he said enthusiastically. “Mack, go into that last cupboard and get out four large cans of soup. Any kind will do, just make sure all the cans are the same. Suzanne, you can start making sandwiches. There’s ham and—”

  “I know what’s in the refrigerator. I took a peek,” she told him.

  Rand grinned. “Great. Okay, we’re organized. I’m going to make fresh coffee and set out dishes and condiments.”

  Suzanne sighed to herself as she set to work. Never in a million years could she have imagined herself on a ranch in Montana, making sandwiches in a kitchen like this one with a raging blizzard howling outside.

  Did fate have any other tricks in store for her?

  “I certainly hope not,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Six

  Lunch was ready. “Join us in the dining room?” Rand said to Suzanne.

  She hesitated, thinking of eating with all those strange men, whom she could hear talking and laughing among themselves.

  “Thank you, but I think I’ll have my sandwich in here.” They were alone in the kitchen—Mack had toted an enormous tray of sandwiches into the dining room—and as she looked into Rand Harding’s deep blue eyes, she felt a flush creep into her cheeks. Obviously he was a serious man, but there was also a devilish twinkle in his eyes that told her he wasn’t all business.

  Well, she thought, maybe it took a man with a sense of humor to advertise for a mail-order bride, shocking as the whole awful idea still was to her.

  Rand was thinking of something else entirely. Without the blizzard, Suzanne would have picked up her brother and immediately left. As much additional hard labor as the storm was causing everyone, he was suddenly glad it had struck.

  “You don’t have to eat alone,” he said, thrilled with the high color in her pretty face. She obviously wasn’t comfortable being alone with him, which he took as an indication of physical attraction
. Well, he felt it, too. It wasn’t overwhelming desire, or anything like that, more of an awareness of each other, but it was a good feeling and he wanted to explore it. The storm was going to keep Suzanne here for at least another day, and he’d be a damned fool not to make the most of the opportunity. He smiled.

  Suzanne looked away from that smile, which seemed a little too friendly to her. They weren’t friends—just barely acquaintances, in fact—and she didn’t want him getting any funny ideas about her.

  “I prefer eating alone, if you don’t mind,” she said with her eyes everywhere but on his face.

  Rand looked at her for another few moments, most definitely enjoying the view, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  After he’d gone, Suzanne took a deep breath and began making another sandwich. There was a nervous flutter in her stomach that she couldn’t blame on hunger. All right, so he’s good-looking, she conceded uneasily. But when did good looks ever pay the bills?

  But Rand had a good job, didn’t he? A job with loads of responsibility, a crew of men to run, valuable property to oversee. The owners of this ranch, whoever they were, must trust him implicitly.

  Now, why would a man with Rand’s looks and apparent—thus far—steadfastness need to advertise for a wife? There had to be something wrong with him, some trait or characteristic she hadn’t yet seen in him. Maybe he had a violent temper, or perhaps he had gone through all of the available women in the area and had a bad reputation where women were concerned.

  She knew she was reaching, but his advertising for a wife seemed so crazy to her that she couldn’t help looking for a reason for what she considered abnormal behavior.

  Seating herself at the counter again, she started eating. There wasn’t quite so much chatter coming from the dining room now, she realized. The men must be too busy filling their stomachs to talk.

  A minute later one of those men walked into the kitchen. He was tall, lean and looked so much like a real cowboy that Suzanne gaped. He also looked vaguely familiar, although she was certain they’d never met. Maybe he merely reminded her of someone she knew in Baltimore, she thought, though she couldn’t imagine who it might be.

  “Hello, ma’am,” he said in a soft voice. “Just came in for that coffeepot. Sorry to bother you.”

  “No bother at all,” Suzanne responded, still wondering why he would look familiar. He was older than Rand, and she instinctively suspected that he had been born and bred on a ranch and then had worked as a cowhand all his life. She watched him pick up the huge coffeepot with one hand and suddenly wanted to delay his departure. “I’m Suzanne Paxton, Mack’s sister. Do you know Mack?”

  The man’s mouth twitched, as though a grin was just waiting to happen. It gave Suzanne the impression that he didn’t grin very much. One of those strong, silent types, she thought.

  “Yes, I know Mack,” he said. “I’m J. D. Cade. And I met you last night, Miss Paxton. I woke you in the office and showed you to the bedroom Rand said you should use.”

  “Of course,” Suzanne said, finally placing him, albeit as a very faint memory. “It’s nice meeting you, Mr. Cade,” she added.

  “Nice meeting you, Miss Paxton.” Nodding, he walked out with the coffeepot.

  Gosh, things are different out here, she thought with a sigh. Had anyone ever addressed her as “ma’am” in Baltimore? Certainly her ex-husband hadn’t treated women with such respect. She would bet anything that J. D. Cade opened doors for women, stood when they entered a room and pulled out chairs for them.

  Did Rand do those things, too? Did he think of women as the fairer sex, or as equals and let them open their own doors? Which did she prefer, equality or respect?

  “Hmm,” she murmured. This was not a subject she’d ever thought of before. She had carried her own weight for so long—even during her marriage—that the idea of a man actually taking care of a woman was startling. Of course, if she looked back, her father had not only financially supported her mother, he had treated her with a great deal of respect. It was only her own life that had gotten so out of hand. Marrying Les had been a dreadful mistake in judgment. If she ever married again…

  No, she was not going to fantasize about something that would probably never happen. Her reality was getting back to Baltimore as fast as she could and finding a job that paid enough to support her and Mack. Granted, she hoped for more out of life than a steady paycheck, but right now she would settle for that.

  But she had her dreams, make no mistake. For one, she wanted so much for Mack to look at high school as a serious step to his future. She’d even gone to his school and talked to his counselor, coming home with all sorts of information on grants and scholarships for students with high grades. Mack had refused to even look at the material, and she remembered asking him if he wanted to dig ditches for a living when he graduated high school, if he ever did.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly when she recalled his answer: I got plans, Suzanne, and I don’t need any college education to make them work, either. She had tried to get him to tell her about those plans, but he’d clammed up and that had been that.

  Now he seemed so…dare she use the word happy? Was working on a ranch the height of his ambition? Had he been thinking about becoming a cowboy all the time he’d been living with her? If so, why hadn’t he felt she should know? Did he think she wouldn’t understand, or that she would attempt to undermine his boyish fantasies? And yet he didn’t seem quite as boyish out here as he had in Baltimore. Yes, hiding behind Rand had been an immature reaction to seeing her, but when he finally had shown himself, she had seen something new and alive in his eyes, an excitement he hadn’t expressed since their parents’ deaths.

  Suzanne sucked in a breath and released it slowly. This was definitely food for thought. She was Mack’s only living relative and his legal guardian. He should live with her until his eighteenth birthday, but if he was determined to live in Montana, would she be able to stop him? Somehow she had to get Mack to open up with her; they had to have a serious discussion.

  Rand came in, interrupting her ponderous reverie. He was carrying a large stack of dirty plates. Sending her a smile, he set them in the sink. “I’m going to appreciate Handy a lot more when he gets back than I did before he left,” he said with a bit of a chuckle.

  “I’ll clean up,” Suzanne said quietly.

  Rand turned to look at her. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It will give me something to do. Go on back to work. I can hear the men getting ready to leave.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very sure. I would appreciate your doing one thing for me, if you don’t mind my asking.”

  “What is it, Suzanne?”

  “Keep an eye on Mack. He might think he’s as old and grown-up as the men in your crew, but he’s only fourteen and he’s green as a gourd around any kind of work. He’s rarely been around large animals, either. I…I’ve just figured out—or I think I have—the reason he answered your ad. He wants to be a cowboy.”

  “And he thought if he married you off to one…” Rand let the implication dangle.

  Suzanne flushed slightly, but she answered candidly. “That’s what I believe, yes.”

  Rand shook his head in a show of amazement. “Well, you’ve got to give him points for having the grit to go after what he wants out of life, Suzanne. And I’ll tell you something else that might make you feel better. He worked as hard as any man out there all morning. I wouldn’t worry too much about him if I were you. He’s a pretty good kid.”

  “But he is just a kid, which is why I would like you to keep an eye on him.” She could have added that Mack hadn’t been “a pretty good kid” in Baltimore, and that he had tried her patience to the breaking point nearly every day, but she didn’t, firmly believing that family problems should stay in the family.

  “I’ll watch him, don’t worry,” Rand said. “I’d better get back to work now. See you later.”

  “Yes,” Suzanne murmured. “See yo
u later.”

  After the kitchen was back in order, Suzanne felt at loose ends. Wandering the first floor, she looked out every window she came to and shuddered repeatedly. This had to be a record-breaking blizzard. Hoping to hear a weather forecast, she searched for a radio. There was one in the office, and she turned it on. All she got was static, and after a few minutes she gave up.

  It occurred to her then that the telephone hadn’t rung all day. Picking up the receiver of one, she immediately knew why there’d been no calls: the phone was dead. Did Rand know? Goodness, they couldn’t even call the hospital and check on George. Rand must know, she decided, because she couldn’t imagine that he hadn’t attempted to learn how George was faring.

  Looking around the office, it struck her that there wasn’t a computer. Apparently George did his bookkeeping by hand. How strange in this day and age. The ranch was a composite of opposites, she decided—an ultramodern kitchen with every possible convenience and an outdated accounting system was a very good example.

  She sighed heavily. This was certainly a different world than the one she lived in. Why was Mack so enchanted with it? And how had he known before coming to Montana that he would be enchanted with it?

  There was an awful lot she didn’t know about her brother, wasn’t there?

  By two-thirty Suzanne was ready to tear out her own hair. The fury of the storm outside was nerve-racking. She had tried to read in her room, but the only books she’d found were not to her liking—spy novels and westerns—and the magazines were even worse.

  She ended up back in the kitchen. With nothing else to do, she figured she might as well prepare something for the men’s dinner. Not that she was accustomed to cooking for so many people, but it shouldn’t be that hard to do when everything in the kitchen was oversize and obviously designed for very large meals.

  After checking the refrigerator again, she decided on a beef stew and set to work.

  After announcing that no one would have to stand night guard that night, Rand sent all but three of the men to the bunkhouse. The storm was too bad for night patrol, he told them, which was only the truth. J.D. and the other man assigned guard duty had gotten precious little sleep last night—Rand hadn’t slept much, either—while the saboteur, whoever he was, had probably spent a restful night in a warm bed. It wasn’t only unfair, it was downright infuriating. Looking each man in the eye while he announced no night duty, Rand had wondered if the culprit was among his crew and chuckling to himself, planning to brave the storm this night and use that dynamite.