One Cowboy, One Christmas. Kathleen Eagle
“I could fill the bathtub.”
He closed his eyes and bit down hard on his lip, listening. She was still there.
“Yeah.” He drew an unsteady breath. He hated himself when it got like this. A few pills and he could sink back down and sleep the day away. “I’ll…I’ll do it.”
“It’ll only take a minute, and then I’ll leave you to—”
“Yeah!” She means well. She’s sweet. Remember sweet? “Yeah, that’d be great.”
A few minutes later, she knocked again. He was staring at the pill bottle.
“It’s ready.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m leaving for school in about—”
“Okay. Good. Later.”
“Are you sure you can—”
“Yes!” Mind over matter. It was the only way. “Once I get movin’, I’ll be fine. Can you just…go away?”
“I’m going.” Pause. “There’s breakfast.”
“Great. Thanks. ‘Preciate it.”
He counted her retreating steps. No way could he get those jeans on until his joints loosened up. He hadn’t worn pajamas since he was about eight, and he wasn’t planning to until he was at least eighty. That left the flowery purple quilt.
Warm water was a godsend. When it turned cold he felt as good about being able to climb out, flex his knee, bend at the hip and pull the plug from the drain as he had sticking his first bull. There was hope. It was a new day.
He savored the smell of smoked bacon chasing the aroma of hot coffee down the hall, and he followed it through the dim foyer, past the stairs—where he claimed his hat from the newel post—past the Christmas tree that stood as a dark silhouette against a window filling slowly from the bottom with pink light. Nothing stirred except a calico cat, who slit-eyed him as she gave a full-bodied stretch across much of the sofa.
He found Ann sitting alone at a little kitchen table. No plate in front of her, none of the bacon that had lured him by the nose. She looked up from the stacks of papers she was having for breakfast with her coffee. The soft gold curls that had graced her shoulders a few minutes ago were mostly caught up on the back of her head with a few left to frame her pretty face. He was glad she hadn’t left yet. She had a warm, welcoming kind of smile. Reminded him of someone. Probably not a particular someone, but the sort of someone he sometimes got all sentimental over. Had to be careful not to hang around that kind of smile too long.
“You look a lot better than you sounded earlier.” She slid lined paper full of kid-scratch from shrinking to growing pile, smiling all the while at him. “I take it you’re not a morning person.” She nodded toward a coffeemaker on the counter near the sink. “Help yourself.”
“Some mornings are better than others.” He plucked a cup from a metal tree with one hand and pulled the carafe from the coffeemaker with the other. “It was a long, cold walk brought me to your door, and cowboys don’t like walkin’. These boots ain’t made for it.”
“According to Hoolie, your legs aren’t shaped for it.”
“Whoa, now.” Coffee in hand, he did a bow-legged about-face, kicking up the charm with half a smile. “A lotta girls admire this shape. Ain’t easy to come by.”
She gave the smile back in equal measure. “The girls, or the shape?”
“What do you think?” The look in those blue eyes said she’d spare him the answer. Such courtesy was too much to expect from the noisy bum that was his left knee, but he needed a reminder to quit playing cute. Still, he wasn’t above voicing an ouch to further his case with her. “I feel like…” like we’ve met somewhere before, which is the worst line in the book “…like you’re not most girls. Women. Sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m feeling a little awkward, like I’m missing something. God knows, after what happened the other night…” He chuckled. “I probably don’t wanna know, huh? Couldn’t’ve been much dignity in it.”
“Some pieces should just be allowed to go missing.”
The way she said that gave him a chill. He’d made an ass of himself for sure. He took his hat off and sat down across from her anyway. She was probably right, but she was definitely making him curious, which was an impulse he’d schooled himself to resist, especially when it involved a woman.
Low resistance was probably a side effect of hypothermia.
He slid his hat under the table and set it on the seat of an empty chair. “When does Hoolie usually show up?”
“He made breakfast. He wondered when you might be showing up.” She slipped the smaller stack of papers inside a red teacher’s book. “I told him there were some strange sounds coming from the guest room. Agony or ecstasy—I wasn’t sure which.”
“You had the cure.” He watched her pile the book on top of the other papers, took it as a hint. “I’ll just take my coffee and head on out to—”
“Let’s have some breakfast,” she said, all warm and bright again as she shoved her work aside. “I have a bad habit of skipping it, but I have time. Hoolie’s the earliest of early birds. After about five o’clock he loves to accuse the rest of us of sleeping late.”
“I made a deal with him. If he’s out there workin’, I need to be out there, too.”
“Not without breakfast,” said a voice from beyond. Sally rolled her wheelchair onto the kitchen linoleum. “If a rancher doesn’t feed her help, word gets around.”
“Not so much in the off-season,” Ann said as she rose from her chair. “How are you doing this morning?”
“The spirit’s more than willing, but the body could use a boost. You know what I’d love? Besides coffee.”
“A bacon-and-cheese omelet?” Ann flew to the refrigerator like she was magnetized. “We’ve got mushrooms and tomatoes. I could—”
“A cool bath. Did you turn the heat up last night?”
“I don’t—” Ann slid Zach a questioning look “—think so.”
He shook his head. He figured he was back up to his regular ninety-eight point nine.
“I’ll run the water for you,” Ann offered, backing off the omelet with a note of disappointment.
“You’ll do breakfast. I just wanted to make sure everyone was finished with the bathroom.”
“I only used one towel,” Zach reported. “The wet one.”
“Thank heaven for hydrotherapy, huh?”
“Amen to that, sister.” He took a cue from the look in Ann’s eyes. “Followed by a little protein.”
“Save me some bacon. Did I hear you say you made a deal with Hoolie?”
“If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna help out around here while Hoolie works on my pickup. He offered, and he says it shouldn’t take too long for him to fix it once we get the parts. So I’ll be his right-hand man until Zelda’s up and runnin’. Couple days, maybe?”
“Fine by me,” Sally said, laughing as she reversed her wheels. “Zelda?”
Zach shrugged. “She generally treats me better when I call her by her right name.”
“Gotta love a guy who names his pickup.”
“Can’t take credit. It came on her license plate. ZEL-412. Zelda B. Zelda Blue.” He grinned. “But I’ll take all the love I can get.”
“You got it, cowboy.”