Letter to a Lonesome Cowboy

by Jackie Merritt

  But anyone sneaking down those stairs would be in for a surprise: he would run into Rand himself.

  They were done feeding the cattle for today—only to have to repeat the exhausting process again tomorrow—but the horses they’d used to pull the sleds needed tending, and Rand wanted to make sure it was done right. Thinking ahead to a sleepless night with a grim expression, Rand, with the help of the three hands, unharnessed the two teams, then each of them led a horse into the barn.

  “I want them wiped down till they’re dry,” he told the men. “And check their hooves and legs for frostbite and injuries.” Rand had done that throughout the day. These were valuable animals, huge draft horses that were kept on the ranch for exactly this sort of emergency. No one had ever ridden these horses. They had never felt a saddle or a human on their backs, and they probably never would.

  “Better check ourselves for frostbite,” one of the men grumbled.

  They looked half-frozen, Rand had to agree, with their reddened faces, watery eyes and snowpacked clothing. But any man choosing this line of work had to take the bad with the good, and there were many, many good days. And once this storm passed, the good days would start. They were, as hard as it was to believe with gale-force winds and a blinding snowfall going on outdoors, heading into summer, and the summers in Montana were glorious.

  As he wiped down the horse he’d brought into the barn, Rand felt himself starting to sweat. He stopped working to take off his heavy, sheepskin-lined jacket, and spotted a pair of dark brown eyes peering at him over the short wall separating this stall from the next.

  “Mack, for hell’s sake,” he exclaimed. “Why aren’t you in the bunkhouse?”

  Mack came around the end of the wall, then leaned on it. “’Cause I wanted to see what you were gonna do with the horses.”

  Rand frowned at the boy. He not only looked half-frozen, he looked ready to fall over from exhaustion. There was something touching in Mack’s avid curiosity, but he was carrying that curiosity too far right now.

  “Mack, I told everyone but these three men to go inside,” Rand said gruffly. “That included you. Now get your butt out of this barn and into the bunkhouse. If you’re planning to work on a ranch when you’re older, you’ve got to learn to follow orders.”

  “Uh, when I’m older? How old d’ya have to be to get a job on a ranch? Wouldn’t you hire me?”

  “Hell, no, I wouldn’t hire you.” Rand went back to wiping down the huge horse.

  “But I’m a good worker. Didn’t I work hard enough today?”

  “You’re a damned good worker, but you have to take life in some kind of order, Mack. Right now you belong in school.”

  Mack’s expression turned sullen. “I hate school.”

  Rand straightened up and looked at the boy. “Why?”

  “Lots of reasons,” Mack mumbled. “It’s stupid, Rand.”

  “What’s going to be stupid is you if you don’t finish high school.” Rand began drying the horse’s wet hide again.

  “Did you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you go to college?”

  “No, but there are times when I wish I had.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is a big world, Mack, and there’s an awful lot I don’t know about it.” He faced the boy. “Have you ever met and talked to a truly educated person? They’re different than you and I, Mack.”

  “My teachers are educated, and they’re dopes.”

  “I doubt that, Mack. Did you ever once stop thinking of them as teachers and try to get to know them as people?”

  Mack grimaced. “Hell, no,” he said disgustedly.

  “Then you really don’t know what you’re talking about, do you?” Rand turned back to the horse. “I want you to go to the bunkhouse now. Get out of those damp clothes, take a hot shower and warm up. I’ll be in to make some supper for all of us in about ten minutes.”

  Mack shuffled away with his head down. Taking a moment to watch him go, Rand shook his head. He was beginning to get a glimpse of Mack’s and Suzanne’s relationship, and it wasn’t all peaches and cream. Without question Mack had a mind of his own and a stubborn streak a mile wide. It must be really tough for a young woman to deal with a brother like Mack, Rand thought as he finished the drying process and hung the towel he’d used on a hook.

  Fetching some oats, Rand poured them into the horse’s feed bucket, then forked the stall’s trough full of hay. For about the twentieth time that day everything fled his mind but that case of dynamite. He felt that he’d searched the barn thoroughly, as he had the other outbuildings, but it had to be somewhere—maybe, as Reed had suggested, right under his nose.

  Well, there was nothing he could do about it tonight. He had to get inside and scare up some supper for the men. Maybe he could get some of them to help out, maybe not. They were cowhands, not cooks, and weren’t above telling him so. Then there was the cleaning up and finally what he’d planned for the long night ahead—guard duty at the foot of the stairs. The whole damned night was nothing to look forward to with anything but disgust and anger.

  Shrugging into his jacket, Rand yelled, “Are you guys finished?”

  He got three different responses. “Almost.” “In a minute.” “I’m feeding now.”

  “I’m going in to see about some supper,” Rand called.

  “Good,” one man called back. “I’m hungry enough to eat this here horse.” The other two men chuckled.

  Trudging to the bunkhouse, Rand wondered if he should have left them alone in the barn. If one of those men was the saboteur…?

  But he’d picked the three men at random from the crew, and he felt that the guilty party was doing his dirty work solo. He wasn’t apt to pull anything in front of two other men.

  Stamping snow from his boots, Rand opened the bunkhouse door and walked in. Instantly he smelled the wonderful aroma of hot food. His whole system went into meltdown mode for Suzanne Paxton. Not only was she pretty and intelligent, she was adaptable, considerate and, judging from the mouthwatering smells, a mighty good cook. A fine woman. Any man would be very, very fortunate to have Suzanne for a wife.

  He’d come in through the laundry room door, which Handy had adamantly demanded the men use when they were dirty or wet at the end of their workday. It wasn’t unusual for the men to undress in here and carry their dirty clothes to their individual rooms in their stocking feet. Each of the bedrooms was equipped with a hamper, and each man washed his own clothes. There were four washers and three large, commercial dryers in here, plus a chart on the wall on which a man could write the time and day he wanted to do his laundry.

  With a woman in the building, Rand suspected the men had gone to their rooms carrying only their boots. He took off his own, his heavy jacket, hat and gloves and headed for the kitchen with the armload. The smells in the air made his stomach growl with hunger, and his face was tingling from the warmth of the building. A smile stretched his warming skin when he saw Suzanne using a long-handled spoon to stir whatever was in the huge pot on the stove.

  “I didn’t expect you to cook supper, but I sure do appreciate it,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Suzanne put the lid on the pot, set down the spoon and turned to look at him. His hair was hat-flattened, his face ruddy and he was still the best-looking man she’d ever seen. Flustered suddenly, she attempted an ordinary smile, which came off pretty weak.

  “I—I had…nothing…else to do,” she stammered.

  Why, she’s embarrassed, Rand thought. Embarrassed over a simple thank-you. Didn’t anyone ever thank her for what she did in Baltimore? There was so much he didn’t know about her. For a fact, he knew more about her kid brother than he did about Suzanne.

  That was definitely going to change! “Well, guess I’d better get cleaned up,” he said.

  “How long before everyone will be ready to eat?”

  “Fifteen minutes should do it.”

  “Fine, dinner will be on the ta
bles.”

  Rand left, and Suzanne listened to his footsteps—muffled without his boots—and frowned when he didn’t go up the stairs. Hurrying around the counter, she peered down the hall and saw him go through the very last door. Her eyes widened. He slept right next door to the room she’d been assigned? She had thought she was the only one sleeping on this floor!

  Disconcerted and pondering what could have been a deliberate deception, she hurried to put the finishing touches on the meal she had cooked.

  All day Suzanne had been anticipating a conversation with Mack when the workday was over, but the second he was through eating, he started upstairs.

  “Mack, wait.” Suzanne stood with one foot on the first step. “We need to talk.”

  Mack could barely hold his head up. “I can’t, Suzanne. I’m beat. Tomorrow, okay?”

  Frowning, she watched him slowly ascend the stairs, moving like a very old man. Her lips pursed. He had worked too hard today. Rand should not have permitted it. She had asked him to keep an eye on Mack, and he should have seen how worn-out the boy was getting.

  “Excuse us, ma’am.” The other men were also going upstairs. Suzanne quickly got out of their way. “Thank you for a good supper,” most of them said as they passed by her.

  “You’re welcome,” she murmured several times. Deep in thought, she returned to the kitchen. The counters were laden; apparently the men had brought in their dishes from the dining room. Rand came in carrying several large serving bowls.

  “You’re a fine cook,” he told her. “There’s nothing left. We devoured everything in sight.”

  “Was there enough?” she asked a bit anxiously.

  “Since everyone had thirds, I’d say so. Oh, everyone but Mack. He didn’t eat much. Too tired, I guess.”

  “Um, yes, I wanted to talk to you about that. He’s overly tired, Rand, and I don’t think that’s healthy for a boy his age.”

  Rand set the bowls down. “The only way I could have gotten him to quit working and return to the bunkhouse would have been to bodily drag him in. Should I have done that in front of the men? Suzanne, I know he’s only a boy, and we talked a little in the barn and I know he’s got some ideas about his future you couldn’t possibly agree with. But force is not going to work with Mack.”

  “What is?” she asked very quietly, very seriously.

  “You’re worried about him, aren’t you? Suzanne, how come he’s your responsibility?”

  “Our parents were killed in a car accident. Naturally I took him into my home and filed for guardianship. He’s my brother, and I love him. I…wish I were able to do better for him. He’s very unhappy in Baltimore.”

  Rand was thrilled they were talking, and he took a shot in the dark to keep the conversational ball rolling. “I kind of got the impression from Mack that you’re not so happy, either.”

  “He told you that?” Surprise widened Suzanne’s eyes.

  “Not specifically, but I sort of read between the lines—when he first got here and I was questioning him about why he was here and you weren’t.”

  A sense of having just lost her privacy caused a frown to crease Suzanne’s forehead. With Mack for a brother, though, should anything surprise her? Besides, was there really any good reason to lie about her troubles in Baltimore?

  “If I’ve been unhappy it’s because things have been…well, difficult for some time now,” she murmured.

  “In what way?” Rand asked.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to get that specific, but Rand seemed genuinely concerned, not just morbidly curious, and God knew it would feel good to unload on someone.

  “My biggest worry is that I lost my job and haven’t been able to find another one,” she finally said.

  It hit Rand that she had no reason to rush back to Baltimore, and he couldn’t help thinking that her misfortune just might be his good fortune.

  Rand suddenly wasn’t feeling exactly calm. Suzanne was pretty and bright and she was here! How could he possibly be miserable over that?

  “I wasn’t fired from my previous position, the accounting department was downsized,” she continued with a note of bitterness in her voice. “A new computer system replaced a few of us.”

  Despite the wheels spinning in his mind, he managed to speak normally, with just the right amount of concerned interest in her problems. “Meaning the company was reducing its staff.”

  “Exactly.” Suzanne began rinsing dishes for the dishwasher.

  “You told George you’re a bookkeeper.”

  “I’m an accountant. I’m not a C.P.A., but I could be with only a few more college credits.”

  “Is that your goal?”

  “When time and money permits, yes. Speaking of George, you must be wondering how he’s doing. The phones are still dead, or they were a half hour ago when I last checked them.”

  Rand forced his thoughts from her to her change of subject. “Yes, I’m concerned, but there’s nothing I can do, Suzanne, except to thank God that George took that fall last night instead of today. Only He knows when this storm will blow itself out and the plows will get out this far. To be honest, my biggest concern is that a power line will snap and we’ll be without electricity.” He saw sudden fear in her eyes and hastened to dispel it. “We’d get by, Suzanne. I didn’t tell you that to worry or scare you.”

  She regarded him silently for a moment, realized she was doing it, decided she couldn’t help being nice to such a considerate person, then said, “You’re a kind man, aren’t you?”

  “Why would I ever be unkind to someone like you?” he returned softly. “Why would anyone?”

  Their eyes met and held for a very long time. Suzanne felt something warm and lovely creep into her system while looking into Rand Harding’s vivid blue eyes, and Rand was thinking that she had to be the most special woman he had ever met, bar none. A caring, warmhearted woman, a woman with ambition and dreams, a woman who had taken in her wayward younger brother and undoubtedly worried herself sick over where he was heading.

  “Suzanne,” he said quietly. “I’m going to put you on the payroll while you’re here.”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it!” she exclaimed. “Mack and I are not guests, we’re impositions.”

  “You could never be an imposition.” Rand had to smile. “Mack, now… Just kidding. I like Mack, and I’d like to help you get him pointed in the right direction. Let’s both face facts, Suzanne. You can’t leave until the weather breaks, and I need a cook and a bookkeeper. You can use the money and I can use the help. What do you say?”

  “I would continue to do the cooking and any paperwork you want done without pay. Why are you offering me a paycheck?”

  “Do you think George and Handy work without one? Do you think I do? Why should you?” He moved closer to her, took her right hand from under the tap water and held it while grinning at her. “It’s a pretty slippery way to seal a deal, but it’s still a handshake.”

  Suzanne couldn’t help laughing. “All right. I can see you’re not going to take no for an answer. Consider me an employee while I’m here.”

  You’re a hell of a lot more than an employee to me, Suzanne Paxton. “Right on,” he exclaimed. Slowly he let her hand slip from his, and it pleased him no end that Suzanne hadn’t immediately drawn hers back. “Now, let’s get this kitchen cleaned up so we can go to the office and get you familiar with George’s methods.”

  “You do not have to help me clean the kitchen. You worked all day and you have to be as tired as the other men.”

  “The other men wouldn’t be tired, either, if they had you to talk to.”

  Suzanne cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you flirting with me?”

  Rand put his head back and let out a roar of laughter. Damn, she made him feel good.

  The myriad problems he had to deal with—the weather, the saboteur, that box of dynamite and having to stay up all night to keep watch—didn’t seem nearly as bad right now as they had out in the barn. All because of a wat
ery handshake, a few flirty remarks and the prettiest, most expressive eyes any woman could have.

  Life was sometimes an almost unbearable trial, but it did have its moments, didn’t it?

  Seven

  Rand told Suzanne to sit at George’s desk. She did so, and he pulled the chair over from the other desk to be near her.

  He realized that a discussion on paperwork was necessary if she was going to accomplish anything in this office, but he would much rather talk about her. Have you always lived in Baltimore? Is there an important man in your life? Do you have any favorable feelings at all about Montana? Considering the blizzard that had arrived just about the time she had, she probably didn’t think much of the area, and could he blame her?

  Deciding to get business out of the way before anything else, Rand cleared his throat. “You know more about this than I do, so where should we start?”

  “At the beginning,” she said with a smile. “The start of any bookkeeping system is the checkbook, Rand.”

  “Oh. Well, George keeps that in the lower right-hand drawer of that desk.”

  Suzanne swiveled her chair to the wall shelves behind her, upon which resided a neat row of black-bound books. “And these must be his books of permanent record,” she said. She glanced back at Rand. “May I look through them?”

  “Anytime you wish.”

  “I’ll just check one of them now so I can tell what accounting system George uses.”

  “There’s more than one kind?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Single entry or double entry.” She pulled a book labeled Check Register from the shelf and laid it on the desk. Flipping it open, she studied it for a few moments, then said, “Double entry. Good.”