by Arlene James
“That I can do, but I might be a bit rusty.”
“You’re hired,” Rex decreed. “We’ve got a bumper crop of bull calves this year, and the sooner we make ’em steers, the sooner they’ll fatten up for market.”
“I can call our ranch foreman, Delgado, to come over if you like.”
“Now, why didn’t we think of Delgado?” Rex asked.
The men all headed for the door, Wes joking, “I’m getting married soon. I’ve got enough on my mind. Why didn’t you think of Delgado? You’re the brains of the operation.”
“Y’all heard him, boys,” Rex bantered. “I am the official head of the Billings brain trust. Just remember that.”
They were stomping into boots and reaching for hats in the foyer when Wyatt pulled out his cell phone to call Delgado. While he waited for the other man to answer, Rex glanced at the hat pegs on the wall, asking, “Where’s your hat? You’re gonna need it.”
“Oh, I don’t have one,” Wyatt admitted, breaking off when Delgado finally answered. Wyatt explained the situation and heard the delight in his foreman’s voice as he agreed to hurry over to the Billings ranch. “He’s on his way,” Wyatt announced, sliding the small phone back into his pocket. He looked up to find Wes and Rex standing with piles of battered cowboy hats in their hands.
“Let’s try this one,” Wes said, passing a stained, cream-colored hat to Wyatt.
After a moment, Wyatt realized he was meant to try on the hat. Unfortunately, it wobbled atop his head like a crown.
“Too small,” Rex announced, plucking the hat off and pushing it into the bottom of his stack. “Maybe the straw.” He plunked it onto Wyatt’s head. Wyatt pushed it up out of his eyes.
“Too big,” Wes decided. “Let’s go with the old silver belly.”
Tired and more than a bit floppy, the once handsome hat nestled down onto Wyatt’s head as if made just for him.
“That’s the one,” Rex announced.
“It’ll keep the sun from baking you, at least,” Wes said, “but the satin lining’s not exactly cool.”
“Good thing it’s not full summer yet,” Dean put in, grinning as he pulled a baseball cap from his hip pocket and slung it onto his head.
“How come you get away with that?” Wyatt asked, only half teasing.
“Aw, I only wear cowboy hats to impress my wife,” Dean said, “and that thing you’re wearing would surely not do it.”
They all walked out laughing, but Wyatt couldn’t help thinking that a cowboy hat, even an old droopy one, surely made a man stand just a little prouder. As he strode along in the company of these men, Wyatt felt a surprising twinge of guilt at not calling to explain the situation to Tina. Then again, he decided, he hadn’t promised to help repair the house. He was doing exactly what they’d agreed he’d do.
For some reason, he thought of her scrubbing that old skillet with such vigor. Then he pictured Callie Billings moving around her comfortable kitchen, and a pang of something like regret or disappointment struck him midchest. Ridiculous.
Tina Kemp was nothing like Rex’s sweet wife. Her snappishness contrasted sharply with Callie’s gentle admonitions. He suspected that Tina’s silly ideas for opening a bed-and-breakfast in the Loco Man Ranch house were bound to end in failure, no matter how much he and his brothers tried to help, but maybe that was all part of God’s plan. They’d have the house in good shape when she finally agreed to sell it to them. He’d have to ask Rex what a fair price might be. Later.
Or not.
Chapter Five
Wyatt dragged in to the house dusty and sweaty around five thirty that evening.
“I have never been so tired in my entire life.”
Tina could believe it. He looked as if he’d been put through a meat grinder. She’d had a trying day herself. She’d climbed the stairs so many times today that her legs ached, but—between the shopping, cleaning and cooking—she’d managed to fix up Tyler’s room and move her own things into the room with the missing window, which Ryder had temporarily boarded over. He’d carried in a bed from the bunkhouse for her, and she was already looking forward to sleep, so when Wyatt announced that he and his brothers were going to prayer meeting with the Billings family, she could only stare at him for several moments.
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve got plenty to be praying about.”
“So do I,” she admitted, “but I’ll have to do my praying here. I just don’t have the energy to dress and go to church tonight.”
“Your choice,” Wyatt said lightly, glancing over the papers she’d left on the kitchen table. “What’s this?”
“Utility transfer.”
“I told you I’d take care of that,” he reminded her, an edge to his voice.
“Yes, well, I had to drive into Ardmore to find everything Ryder needs, so I swung by the electric company. Turns out we don’t have to worry about water and trash. We’ve got our own wells and have to haul our own trash.”
“I think we can get trash pickup from the Town of War Bonnet if we want it.”
“That would be great,” she said. “I’m sure not up for hauling off my own trash.”
“I’ll check it out.” Frowning at the papers, he said, “That’s a big deposit for out here.”
“Yeah, well, in Kansas City I rented an apartment with utilities included, so I don’t have much of a record with the utility company.” What records she did have, Layne’s name was on the account as well as hers. She prayed they would not inform him for some reason. He was bound to find her eventually, but she hoped to be well established by then, with a presentable home for Tyler.
“I’ve got a lengthy track record with utility companies,” Wyatt was saying. “I’ll get over there and see if I can have this reduced.”
“Don’t bother,” she snapped. “We can’t even use the electricity. Besides, it’s not your house.”
He tossed his hands in the air. “I thought we agreed earlier today to split the utilities.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, knowing she was being unreasonable. The amount of the deposit, on top of the propane bill, had truly shocked her, and she was already fighting every moment of every day not to lose faith. Still, she didn’t know why she had to take it out on him. Sucking in a deep breath, she calmed herself. “Having the account in both our names is the best thing. Thank you.”
“No problem,” he muttered. Then he added, “I’m hitting the shower.”
“Water’s hot,” she told him, “but Ryder says the hot water heater will have to be replaced soon. The bottom is almost rusted out of this one.”
Wyatt stared at her for a long moment before simply nodding and walking off.
Jake came in the door, sniffing. “Smells good. What’s for supper?”
“Spaghetti with meat sauce.”
Pipes squealed and banged, followed by the sound of water gushing.
“That Wyatt in there?”
“Yes.”
“He tell you about prayer meeting?”
“I won’t be going,” she stated firmly. “Not tonight.”
“Okay. Been a tough day, I take it.”
She lifted the pot lid on the sauce. “You could say that, yeah.”
“I’ll wash my hands and set the table,” he volunteered.
Shooting him a smile, she felt her mood lift ever so slightly. Now, why didn’t Wyatt’s offers of help give her the same boost? Instead, everything he did irritated her in ways she couldn’t even explain.
She opened cans of green beans, the salad she would have preferred being out of the question until they had refrigeration. So much seemed out of the question just now, even basic things like electricity. She wanted to sit down and have a good cry, but instead she turned back to the stove.
When Jake finished placing the
plates, napkins and flatware, he went for glasses and filled them with ice from the ice chest before sitting the plastic jug of tea on the table.
“Hope Wyatt didn’t insult your tea,” Jake said conversationally. “He drinks what we call syrup tea, equal parts tea and sugar.”
“The sugar’s right there,” Tina pointed out, waving a hand. “He can have all he wants.”
Jake’s eyes went wide. “You can’t properly sweeten tea at the table. The sugar has to go in while the tea is boiling hot so it can dissolve as the tea steeps.”
Tina waved an empty green-bean can at him. “Who says?”
“Texas.” He chuckled at the expression on her face.
“For your information, Mr. Smith, at lunch your brother drank a full glass of my tea without a speck of sugar in it.”
Jake feigned exaggerated shock, thumping himself in the chest. “My brother? Are you sure? He must be sweet on you if he drank your tea without sugar.” Truly stunned by the mere suggestion that Wyatt might be sweet on her, Tina gaped at Jake. Stopping his teasing, Jake straightened. “It was just a joke.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
Tina and Jake looked around to find Wyatt standing there wearing a clean white undershirt, his feet bare beneath the hems of his clean blue jeans.
“What smells so good?” Wyatt asked. Coming toward the table.
Tina whirled back to the stove.
Behind her, Jake said heartily, “Spaghetti. With meat sauce. And, uh, green beans, I think.”
Walking a wide path around Wyatt and the table, Tina went into the foyer. At the foot of the staircase, she called loudly, “Supper!”
Tyler came running down the stairs. Ryder followed with Frankie perched on his shoulders. Tina saw at once that Frankie had managed to cover himself in the plaster Ryder had been using to mend the ceiling and cracks in the walls. She reached for the boy as Ryder stepped down onto the floor beside her. Frankie came into her arms easily, but he was so heavy that she nearly dropped him. Letting him slide down onto his feet, she dusted her hands and stepped back. Tyler seemed to have fared somewhat better, to her surprise. Still, his hands were covered with the stuff.
“Maybe I ought to hose you boys down before I put you in the tub.” She glanced at Ryder, who wiped his dirty hands on his dirty shirt. Obviously, if he was going to prayer meeting with his brothers, he was going to have to clean up first. “Wash your hands and eat. Then, Ryder, you’d better clean up. I understand prayer meeting is on the agenda.”
“Yeah?” He looked down at his hands and shrugged. “Okay.”
“You clean up in the kitchen,” she suggested. “I’ll take the boys into the bathroom.”
Nodding, Ryder went off to do as he was told. Not for the first time, Tina mused that he was a big, sweet-natured overgrown boy, whereas Wyatt... Wyatt Smith might be overbearing and assume he was in charge of the world, but he had no boy in him. He was all man.
By comparison, her ex, Layne, was urbane, polished, charming...selfish, spiteful to the point of brutality, deceptive. That was one thing she could say for Wyatt; he wasn’t deceptive. When she got right down to it, the trait that so irked her about him was his arrogance.
She shepherded Tyler and Frankie down the hall to the bathroom. Once she had them as presentable as possible, Tina sent the boys to the kitchen. And she followed soon after.
Frankie sat atop the plastic tub again, while Tyler knelt on his chair seat.
“Sit on your bottom, son,” she admonished gently as she went to put the finishing touches on the meal and carry it all to the table. He grumbled but complied. As she sat a steaming bowl of green beans in front of him, however, Tyler began to whine.
“I don’t want that. I want spaghetti.”
“We have spaghetti, but we need vegetables, too. Besides, you like green beans.”
“Don’t tell me what I like!” he shouted.
Tina recoiled at the familiar reprimand. It was something his father had said, often and hatefully. She’d put a dish on the table that Layne had previously praised only to find that he suddenly hated it. When she’d reminded him that he’d liked it before, he’d always snapped back just as Tyler had.
Momentarily stunned, Tina felt caught in the old quandary: Fight back or ignore it? From the corner of her eye, she caught Wyatt and Jake exchanging troubled glances. Her face heated, but she reminded herself that her six-year-old son was not his hateful father and she was the grown-up in this situation. As calmly as she could, she spooned green beans onto Tyler’s plate and proceeded to do the same with the spaghetti.
“Eat,” she ordered quietly.
Tyler frowned, but then he picked up his fork and dug into the spaghetti. Everyone else began filling their plates. Then they bowed their heads and Wyatt spoke the prayer.
“Father God, we thank You first for Your Son and then for all the many other blessings You’ve showered upon us. I thank You especially for new friends, this meal and the hands that prepared it. Amen.”
Tina sent him a limp smile in acknowledgment for mentioning her—however obliquely—in his prayer, but she couldn’t look him in the eye. She remembered the words that she’d thrown at him earlier.
I know what’s best for my own son.
But did she really?
* * *
The meal rejuvenated Wyatt somewhat, but he still dragged along the edge of utter exhaustion. Yet he was eager to go to church. He wanted the comfort and assurance of prayer. Plus, he wanted to further his acquaintance with the Billings family and get to know the rest of his neighbors. He could learn a lot from Wes and Rex, and he couldn’t have asked for more friendly company today. Besides, prayer meeting had to be better than sitting here in the dark house with Tina and her disrespectful son.
Wyatt was so used to correcting his brothers and nephew that he’d almost given Tyler a scolding when the boy had mouthed off at his mother. He had to give her points for remaining calm, though she obviously teetered on the edge of exhaustion herself. Still, if she didn’t get control of that boy soon, she never would.
Wyatt didn’t kid himself that his advice on the subject would be welcome, however. She’d made herself plain on the matter earlier.
I know what’s best for my own son.
Wyatt kept his opinions to himself and concentrated on the food in front of him. It was simple but plentiful and tasty enough, especially considering that she was working without conveniences...like electricity. If she didn’t get that fixed tomorrow, he’d see to it himself, though she was likely to tear a strip off his hide for it.
Having eaten his fill, he sat back and lifted the glass of tea that he hadn’t yet touched.
“That was good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll sweeten the next batch of tea while it’s hot.”
Wyatt glanced at her before taking a healthy swig of the tea. He let the cold tea slide down his throat before saying conversationally, “Actually, I like this. It’s not at all bitter. What brand do you use?”
After a somewhat shocked silence, Tina named her preferred brand.
Ryder, who had demolished two plates of food to Wyatt’s one, chugged his tea and reached for the plastic pitcher for a refill. “Wyatt’s tea is like battery acid,” he remarked easily. “Can’t drink it without sugar.”
“Hey!” Wyatt objected, much to Jake’s amusement, though he couldn’t deny the truth. “I never claimed to be a domestic whiz.”
“You sure worry and fuss like someone’s mother, though.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Just because I didn’t want you to fight—” Too late, he broke off, grimacing and tilting his head in apology to Ryder.
Tina flashed a glance around the table. “I wouldn’t want Tyler to join the military, either,” she said, assuming the most obvious interpretation of Wyatt’s comment. Then her eyes widened, and she a
ddressed herself to Jake. “That is, unless he truly wanted a military career. It is a noble profession. I just wouldn’t want him in harm’s way.”
Jake smiled warmly and ran his fingertip around the rim of his tea glass. “I didn’t exactly give our mother hen over here the opportunity to talk me out of enlisting.”
“You didn’t,” Wyatt accused, relieved to have the conversation channeled in this direction. He looked at Tina, lifted an eyebrow and said, “He joined the day after his eighteenth birthday. Reported for basic training within weeks of graduating high school.”
“One of the best decisions I ever made. Served over ten years.”
“But then you got out before you reached retirement age,” Tina prodded gently.
Jake looked down, licking his lips. “I took a hardship release when my wife passed away.”
Tina grimaced. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
Jake shrugged. “She was military, too. You have to expect it when you marry a soldier. Training exercise.”
Tina pulled in a deep breath. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“She was doing what she loved,” Jake said softly. “That’s what I try to remember.”
Tina merely offered him a small smile.
Again, irritation swamped Wyatt. He didn’t like the feeling, and he didn’t even want to know why. He couldn’t be jealous of his own brother. Could he? Certainly not over Tina. He didn’t even like her. Except...he wasn’t sure anymore what it was about her that he disliked so much. He cleared his throat.
“I don’t want to be late for prayer meeting.”
Ryder finished his second glass of tea and plunked the tumbler onto the table. “I need to clean up.”
“Well, don’t take all night,” Jake called after him. “I’ve still got to get Frankie cleaned up.”
“Why don’t you let Frankie stay here with Tyler and me?” Tina suggested, smiling at Jake again.
That smile rankled Wyatt. The two of them seemed to be getting along like a house on fire. She could barely be civil to Wyatt, but she was all smiles for Jake. The thought made Wyatt cringe. Oh, yeah. A good night for prayer meeting.