Heart of Texas Volume 1: Lonesome Cowboy. Debbie Macomber
he’s got cash enough to pay for it once the work’s done.”
“What?” Grady groaned.
“You heard me. Why else do you think he was lookin’ for a job?”
They headed toward the creek and slipped out of their saddles to allow their horses a long drink of cool water. Grady didn’t like the idea of Laredo lingering at the Yellow Rose. He’d seen men like Smith before. Drifters, washed-up rodeo riders, shiftless men with shiftless lives. No roots or families. They spent their money as fast as they earned it without a thought to their next meal, let alone the future. They might work hard, but they also played hard and lived harder. Laredo Smith wasn’t the type of man he wanted hanging around his sister, that was for damn sure.
“Find out anything else about him?” Grady asked, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot. His interest was out in the open now, no reason to hide it.
Not waiting for Wiley’s reply, Grady climbed back into the saddle with the ease of a man long accustomed to riding.
“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it.”
Grady tossed his foreman a furious look, but Wiley responded with a knowing chuckle. The old man knew he could get away with saying what he damn well pleased, and an angry glower wouldn’t change that.
“He let drop a few bits of information on the way into town,” Wiley admitted as he, too, remounted. “He’s been workin’ on the Triple C over in Williamsburg for the last couple years.”
Grady had heard of the ranch, which was one of the larger spreads in the Texas hill country. He’d spoken to Earl Chesterton, the owner, a time or two at the district cattlemen meetings, but they were little more than nodding acquaintances. Compared to the Triple C, the Yellow Rose was small stuff.
“You gonna check on him?” Wiley asked in a tone that said he disapproved of the idea.
Grady snorted. “Why would I do something like that? He doesn’t work for me, remember?”
“You’re the one with all the questions,” Wiley pointed out.
“I was curious. You can’t blame me for that, especially when all I’m doing is looking out for Savannah.” He didn’t want to say it out loud, but he was worried about his younger sister. Not once in all these years had she openly crossed him. Not that she didn’t have any opinions, and not that she was meek or passive, like some people assumed.
Savannah had ways of making her wishes known. Subtle ways. The fact was, he’d come to recognize that when she baked his favorite peach cobbler, she had something on her mind. She’d wait until after dinner; when he was enjoying dessert, she’d sit down with him, sweetness personified, and ask a few harmless—but pertinent—questions. Slowly she’d lead up to what she really wanted, making her point casually and without fanfare.
Grady always listened, and often her nonconfrontational style worked and he’d change his mind. He considered himself a fair man; if he felt her concern was valid, he acted on it.
Then Laredo Smith arrived, and suddenly his sister’s behavior had undergone a drastic change. She’d actually raised her voice to him, and all because of this worthless drifter. Well, she was welcome to Laredo Smith. If she wanted to walk around with her heart dangling from her sleeve, acting like a lovelorn fifteen-year-old, he wasn’t going to stop her. By the same token, he wouldn’t offer sympathy when a month or two down the road Laredo left her high and dry.
“How old is Savannah now?” Wiley asked. “She’s over twenty-one, right?”
“You know damn well how old she is.”
Wiley set his Stetson farther back on his head and grinned. “You’re right, I do. I was just wondering if you did.”
Grady frowned. “She’s old enough to know better.”
“Old enough to know her own heart, too, I’d say.”
Grady nudged his gelding, Starlight, into a trot and turned toward the house, following the fence line. He wanted to check that it was secure and ascertain the condition of the windmill and water tank before he headed in for the night.
“Like I said earlier,” he announced stiffly, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then you aren’t interested in hearin’ what else Smith said.”
What Grady wasn’t interested in was playing games. He reined in Starlight and turned to look back at the foreman. “You got something to say, then I suggest you say it.”
“He’s a wrangler.”
Grady wasn’t impressed. Wranglers were a dime a dozen in Texas.
“We could use a good wrangler. Payin’ someone to come in and care for the horses can get downright costly.”
“I can take care of them myself.”
“Sure, the same way you can deliver calves, plant alfalfa, move herds and everything else all by your lonesome. Hey,” he said with a shrug, “it was just a suggestion.”
Despite his dour mood, Grady threw back his head and laughed. “Wiley, why do you think I’m paying you the big bucks? Since you’re so concerned about my welfare, you can be my wrangler from now on. You think we need to take one on full-time? Then I’m naming you the Yellow Rose’s official wrangler. You can feed, water, groom and worm the horses from this day forward. Don’t forget to take care of the tack, too, while you’re at it.”
“Quit foolin’ around.”
“Do I look like I’m fooling?” Grady asked with a broad grin. The expression on Wiley’s face was worth a thousand bucks. For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, Grady threw back his head and laughed until his throat felt raw.
* * *
Savannah set the platter of chicken-fried steak on the oven rack and turned the saucepan of thick cream gravy to simmer. The green beans were tender, and she’d sliced fresh tomatoes from her kitchen garden. An apple pie cooled on the counter. All she needed to do now was stir up a pitcher of lemonade, and dinner would be ready when Grady and Wiley returned.
With a few extra moments on her hands, she decided to step outside. Laredo had been working all afternoon in the hot sun, and knowing he was probably thirsty, she poured him a glass of iced tea. As she walked into the sunshine, she was honest enough to admit that the tea was only an excuse to be with him.
Her gardens had never looked better, but she couldn’t find Laredo. He’d been there no more than five minutes ago. Disappointed, she was about to return to the house when she spotted him in the goat pen with Samson and Delilah, her two kids. They were a thank-you gift for the roses she’d given a friend for an anniversary party. Seeing Laredo, she felt her heart go still, and she smiled with pleasure.
Grady had delighted in teasing her about her pets. He called it a silly woman thing, viewing her goats the same way he did her roses. He didn’t care one whit about something she dearly loved. Roses were her heart, her joy, her passion. Sometimes Savannah wondered if they could truly be brother and sister, their differences seemed so profound.
Laredo knelt in the grass with the two young goats, petting them, talking to them. Samson, in particular, didn’t normally take to strangers, but apparently Laredo was a special case.
Savannah wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching. Several minutes, anyway, because the cold glass in her hand had numbed her fingers. Not wanting Laredo to know she’d been spying on him, she returned to the house. She set the glass aside and raised her cold hand to her face, to cool her flushed cheeks.
Incredibly the urge to cry came over her, and she didn’t know why. She’d barely exchanged a word with Laredo all day; they’d both been busy with their own chores. And yet Savannah had never felt closer to anyone than she did to him for those few moments, watching him with her goats.
This stranger,