He'd tried calling from the gas station, but no one had picked up, not even the service that handled the Silver Rose bookings. The clock on the dash told him he'd missed dinner. His growling stomach agreed.
If Esther were alive, dinner would be warming in the oven, no matter how late he arrived. Will hadn't realize just how dear his grandfather's second wife had been to him until she was gone.
He'd barely made it back for the tail end of her funeral. The sad affair had been further hindered by the weather--a blizzard that had reached all the way to Denver and stranded him overnight at the airport. In lieu of a burial, mourners had gathered at the mortuary in town for a service and returned to the Silver Rose afterward for food and drink.
He only saw Esther's daughter, Anne, for a few brief moments before some high-school friends interrupted. It was the first contact they'd had in nearly fifteen years. Although Will had visited the old homestead often, his stays had never coincided with Anne's. She'd matured into a beautiful woman who hid her pain well. Only her eyes reflected the depth of her loss. He'd watched her comfort her mother's many friends and community members, without revealing her own grief.
It touched Will's heart to see how gentle she was with A.J. who, for the first time Will could picture, seemed truly overwhelmed.
A.J. was the rock in Will's life--the fortress that weathered every storm. To see the man so completely lost was unnerving. The coward in him wanted to leave so he wouldn't have to deal with the reality that his grandfather was getting old.
Whether Anne was aware of it or not, she'd fulfilled the role of hostess just as her mother would have done, making sure every coffee cup--or whiskey glass--was full, gently directing the generous ladies of the church society as they fed the thirty or so people present. She comforted strangers who'd grown to love and respect her mother.
Deciding the activity kept her from dwelling on her mother's absence, Will stayed in the background. But when he looked around an hour or so later, he realized that she'd disappeared.
"Where'd Anne go?" he'd asked his grandfather as things began to wind down. Will had already checked the kitchen and study. "Is she lying down upstairs?"
A.J. had given him a glassy-eyed look and shook his head. "She went home. Baltimore, ain't it? Or is it New York City? She's moved so many times I lost track."
"She left?" The fact that she hadn't said good-bye stung, but he wasn't sure why.
A.J. who was sitting sprawled in his favorite chair--the king's throne Esther used to call it--shrugged. "They all do," he muttered.
In Will's experience, leaving was inevitable, but it was usually Will who walked away. He'd yet to meet a woman who inspired him to stay put. Or maybe, as his pal Hayward once said, Will never gave one the chance to inspire him properly.
"She had to get home to Zoey," A.J. had added. "Poor little mite was too sick to come to the funeral. Anne was caught between a rock and a hard place--trying to be a good daughter and a good mother at the same time."
The tiny bit of the ire Will felt disappeared. He had no right to judge Anne. He barely knew her.
But guaranteed they would know each other better by the end of summer, he told himself as he turned at the large, rough-hewn sign marking the entrance to the Silver Rose.
The tires of his four-wheel-drive Chevy churned up the dust as he raced down the mile-long drive. Esther had dreamt of getting the lane paved one day. Will had suggested it once to A.J., who nixed the idea. "Blacktop will get chewed up in winter, and concrete breaks. With gravel, it ain't quite so slippery."
Made sense, Will had thought at the time. But A.J. wasn't the one trying to keep dust off the furniture. "Sorry, Esther," Will murmured.
The ranch, which had been in the Cavanaugh family since pioneer times, was a well-laid-out arrangement: house and garage on the left-hand side of the hub and barns and outbuildings to the right. In the middle of the circle was a sprawling cottonwood tree that had been climbed by generations of Cavanaugh children--fewer and fewer as the years went on. Will's father was an only child and Will was an only child. A.J. had had two older brothers who were killed in World War II, leaving no heirs.
Will's grandmother was Boston born. Her family had been mortified by her decision to marry a rancher living on the edge of the wilderness and threatened to disown her.
At some point, her parents had forgiven her, but Will was pretty sure no one from that side of the family had come to her funeral.
Not that he remembered much from that time. His parents had been killed in a car accident and he'd come to live with his grandparents. But his grandmother wasn't the same woman he'd known. Sad and withdrawn, she'd died a few years later. "Grief sucked the light right out of her," his grandfather had said.
When A.J. remarried, it was something of a relief to have a woman in the house, even though Will took off not long after. But his affection for Esther had grown over the years. She was the quintessential grandmother--happy, welcoming, and nosy in a caring way. She would spoil him rotten the whole time he was visiting, then send him off with a huge care package.
As Will neared the buildings, the first thing he spotted was an older motor home. Spotless and outwardly roadworthy, it appeared perfect for an old man on a mission. When his grandfather first introduced the idea of crossing the country alone, Will had tried to talk A.J. into waiting until Will could accompany him, but A.J. said it wouldn't be proper. This trip belonged to Esther.
Will still had some trepidation, but since A.J. hadn't asked for his opinion, Will didn't offer it. The only thing A.J. had asked for was three months of Will's life. A shiver tingled down his back as Will considered how providential his grandfather's call had been. Three months of healing might give him a shot at the Labor Day Buck-Off in Reno.
Talk about timing. Rolling down his window, he took a deep breath of the brisk, pine-scented air. Nothing in his travels had ever compared to that smell. His heart felt full and excitement coursed through his veins. It was good to be home.
Not that he didn't expect to be chomping on the bit to leave by the end of August. Ranch life hadn't been enough to keep his father settled down and fulfilled, and Will was familiar with the restless yearning that struck him when he tarried in one place too long. He figured that was another reason he'd stuck with bull riding for so long--the itinerant lifestyle suited him fine. No matter how tempting it was to put down roots, there was always another event up the road calling his name.
But three months won't kill me, he thought. My co-manager, on the other hand... Will scanned the yard for a sign of Anne or her daughter. A.J. had informed him last night that the two would be here when he arrived.
Will still couldn't quite believe that a city girl like Anne had agreed to spend the summer at the Silver Rose. Not only did the move seem out of character--she'd made it clear over the years that she wasn't fond of Nevada--but he imagined Anne would find it painful to step into her mother's shoes so soon after Esther's death.
As he pulled into a parking spot in front of the two-story white farmhouse, a movement on the covered porch caught his eye. Two figures--a woman and a child--occupied the glider that faced the road. The smaller one jumped to her feet and rushed to the railing. Will couldn't make out her features thanks to the shadows cast by the old-fashioned coach lights on either side of the door.
Even though daylight savings time had extended the evening by an hour , mountain dwellers knew that in these parts night fell like a stage curtain. Temperatures dropped dramatically in a matter of minutes and those not prepared could find themselves suffering from hypothermia. Will ignored the chill when he stepped out of his truck.
"Hey, there," he called. "I made it."
He closed the door, leaving his gear where it was. Will already knew which cabin he planned to used for the summer. Esther always gave him his pick when he visited and he preferred to keep some space between himself and the house.
He stretched cautiously. He'd learned the hard way not to make sudden mov
es until his muscles were fully aware of his intentions.
A waist-high fence encircled a twenty-foot strip of lawn that Esther had valiantly battled to save from moles, gophers, and marauding deer. When he reached the gate, on odd mix of carved wood and deer antlers, he lifted his arm in greeting. "Howdy, ladies."
Too late he remembered Rupert's Bastard--the bull he'd been riding in Fort Worth when he landed on his right shoulder, tearing his rotator cuff. He winced and let his arm fall to his side. Maybe they didn't see...
"Are you hurt?" the little girl asked. She leaned so far over the railing that her mother tossed the book they'd been reading on the seat cushion and rushed to her daughter's side.
Will used his left hand to rub away the tingling sensation. The pain was less severe if he kept the shoulder moving. Driving for three days hadn't help. "Naw, I'm fine," he said, closing the gate with the heel of his boot. "Just a bit on the stupid side. A smart person would have flown."
Stepping carefully to avoid the tulips that were just beginning to blossom in Esther's flower bed, he walked to where Zoey was standing, her small feet in sporty pink leather sneakers wedged between the rungs of the railing. "You must be Zoey. That's a great name, by the way. I'm Will."
Ignoring the twinge in his shoulder, he reached up to shake her hand.
Her smile revealed a mixture of mis-sized teeth and gaping holes. Her eyes were almost too big for her face, but she would be a looker in a few years.
Not surprising. His gaze shifted to Anne, who despite the dark circles under her eyes and serious frown on her lips, was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met. That fact had dawned on him at her mother's funeral, which had struck him as horribly inappropriate timing.
"Your grandfather was getting worried," Anne said. She was dressed in tennis shoes, jeans, and a baggy NYU sweatshirt. Her straight, collar-length, blond hair was tucked behind her ears. "He expected you earlier."
Not much of a greeting. He wasn't sure how to interpret that. Was she unhappy about this arrangement? Or just tired from travel?
"Hello, Anne," he said, touching the brim of an imaginary hat. "Good to see you and finally meet your daughter. I had water-pump troubles in Tonapah. Am I too late for dinner?"
He gingerly backed out of the flower bed--Esther had loved her plants--and mounted the steps. Anne and Zoey met him. In the light from the coach lamps, he could see Anne's smile and a hint of mischief in her eyes. She has emerald-green eyes. How had he forgotten that?
"We ate hours ago. A.J. barbecued half a cow. At least, I think it was beef. It might have been a brontosaurus."
Zoey laughed and shook her head. "Mommy, dinosaurs got eggstinct a long time ago."
"Extinct," Anne corrected. Winking at Will, she added, "Maybe it was a buffalo."
Zoey made a face. "Eouw."
Will rested his shoulder against the post. "I guess that means we're officially on ranch time, huh?" A.J. liked his meals at five, eleven, and five. Surprisingly, the guests who stayed at the Silver Rose never complained about what had to be a change in their eating pattern. Of course, Esther wisely kept coffee in an insulated dispenser and various breads, rolls, cookies and other snacks on hand at all time.
"Will we be adhering to that schedule while A.J. is gone?" Will asked, curious about how Anne saw their roles.
Anne placed a pretty, slim hand on her daughter's shoulder. "I don't know. Quite honestly, I haven't had time to think about it. And since I've never been a guest here, I don't have any history to maintain. Do you?"
"Some," Will said, surprised by her candor. Knowing her background in hotel management, he'd expected her to come in with a rigid agenda.
Before he could elaborate, the screen door swung open on a squeaky hinge and his grandfather stepped outside. "'Bout time you got here, boy. I was ready to send out the dogs."
Will chuckled at the old joke. As an imaginative ten-year-old, Will had tried to train his grandfather's ragtag troop of cow dogs to be bloodhounds. While the experiment had been doomed to fail, the canine participants had stumbled across several of Will's hidden carcasses--G.I. Joe dolls swathed in chicken skin he'd filched from the kitchen.
Will closed the space between them and gave his grandfather a hug. Was it his imagination or had A.J. shrunk since he'd seen him last month on his way to Texas?
"You know me, Gramps, a day late and a dollar short."
A.J. returned the embrace, but, typical of a man of his era, quickly backed away. "At least, you made it," A.J. said, his voice gruff.
"Sorry I worried you. My cell phone won't hold a charge. I tried calling a couple of times but nobody answered."
"We musta been outside. The girls were checking out my new home away from home."
Will gave into the urge to look more closely at the mother and daughter standing to one side. Anne had positioned herself to shelter Zoey from the night breeze, her hands linked at Zoey's chest. Both were casually dressed, but the overall package looked expensive. That understated glamour, he decided, was what suddenly filled him with an odd uneasiness.
"How come the service didn't pick up?" Will asked, forcing his gaze back toward his grandfather.
"Mountain Phone got bought out by a bigger company. The gals that worked the reservation service got relocated--Phoenix, I believe. I been handling it myself and sometimes I forget to turn on the dang machine. That's something you and Anne can work out."
A.J. turned away and headed back inside. "Let's get you fed, then we'll have a meeting. I'm heading out early, so we'd best get our business talk out of the way tonight."
"Fine with me," Will said. A blatant lie. He'd been hoping to talk A.J. into sticking around a few days longer to give them time to settle into their jobs. Apparently that wasn't the way it was going to be.
He held back, waiting for Anne and Zoey to go into the house first.
Anne took her daughter's hand. "I promised Zoey she could take a bath in Grandma's tub. I'll be down as soon as I can."
Zoey followed docilely, but her gaze never left Will. When they parted ways at the foot of the stairs, he gave her a wink. "See you in the morning, Miss Z."
Hurrying after his grandfather, Will glanced around the foyer and dining room. Nothing had changed since his last visit, although the whole place seemed a bit dustier and less vibrant than when Esther was alive. Still, the two-story ranch house reflected her vivacious spirit in its furnishings and color. He'd heard someone at the funeral refer to the decor as shabby chic. Will called it Early American Esther.
Will stiff-armed the swinging door into the kitchen and found his grandfather at the microwave. The interior light of the built-in appliance came on, and Will spotted a familiar-looking bowl on the turntable. Esther had loved her colorful food storage containers but never scolded him if he failed to return them to her. A month after her funeral he'd broken down and cried after discovering half a dozen under the seat of his truck.
The bell dinged loudly.
A.J. handed Will a fork and knife. "Sit down. You know where the napkins are. Here's some beans. I put your steak on the grill when I heard you drive up. Still like it bloody, right?"
"You bet." In truth, Will's tastes had changed over the years. He ate less meat and more vegetables and salads, but he wasn't about to share that with A.J. In this part of Nevada, an inch-thick steak was a man's birthright.
Before sitting down, Will walked to the refrigerator and helped himself to a beer. He took a healthy swig then pulled a stool up to the counter, where a plate and drinking glass had been set out. While his grandfather tended to the meat on "the barbecue deck," as Esther had called it, Will let his gaze wander.
An innovative remodeling project nine years earlier had doubled the space, and added a sitting room and master bath to the second floor. New cabinets, marble countertops and top-of-the-line appliances--including an eight-burner stove--had been necessary for Esther to offer culinary lessons for those guests who chose not to accompany the cowboys into the field.
To A.J.'s surprise, she'd developed quite a following over the years. In some cases, even the husbands stuck around for a class or two.
I wonder if Anne is planning to cook?
"What's wrong with your truck?" A.J. asked, returning to set out a loaf of homemade bread and the butter dish.
Will grabbed a serrated knife from the wooden block. The bread was probably a gift from some concerned neighbor, he thought as he slathered a slice with butter. "Same ol', same ol'," Will said, tearing off a chunk with his teeth. He'd had his jaw wired shut a year ago to help the bones knit. His bite still wasn't quite right. His dentist wanted him to wear a retainer or some molded guard at night, but Will wasn't that desperate. He just chewed a bit slower, taking care that his teeth didn't grind. "That hunk of junk there has been a lemon since the day I bought it," he added with a rueful smile.
A.J.'s shaggy white eyebrow arched, but he didn't say the words Will deserved to hear: "I told you so." Instead, he returned to the deck. As the door closed, the smell of barbecued meat rolled in on a gray cloud.
Will appreciated his grandfather's restraint. Three years ago, after a particularly lucrative ride that brought him just over fifty grand, Will had called his grandfather to ask his opinion before he bought the vehicle. "Sounds like more truck than you need," A.J. had said with his penchant for understatement.
Will bought the lifted, turbo-charged four-wheel-drive anyway.
"Sure is a looker," A.J. had said when Will brought it by to show off. "Looks as though it will cost you a pretty penny when it's all said and done." Then he'd added, "But at least it won't ask for alimony when you dump it."
His grandfather's pithy jest proved prophetic. The darn thing ate tires as if they were made of pizza dough and guzzled gas like a wino. Will planned to sell it this summer. Surely he wasn't the only foolish cowboy in the world.
Will ladled a scoop of beans onto his place. The calico-colored mix was made up of five or six different varieties in a tomato sauce. His first bite made him moan with pleasure. "Mmm..." Was that chipotle pepper he tasted? Just a subtle snap of heat, but delicious.
Her Forever Cowboy Page 4