Brenda Minton - The Cowboy's Family

“Listen, I have to go shopping. Remind me that I owe you for this. And the payback won’t be pleasant.”

Rachel walked toward him, the laughter gone from her dark eyes and he didn’t even know why. He couldn’t let that be his problem. He had enough girl problems. One was two and the other was almost four. They were more than enough to keep him busy and keep him guessing.

“I’m going now.” She stared straight at him, her gaze unwavering. She had a few freckles on suntanned cheeks.

“Okay, well, thank you.” He didn’t have time for this. “Look, I appreciate what you did. The place looks great. I just…”

“Don’t need a housekeeper?”

He shrugged off the sarcasm in her tone. They both knew that he needed a housekeeper. What he didn’t need was that little smile of hers making him feel as if he needed a housekeeper and an intervention.

“Yeah, I don’t need a housekeeper.” It hadn’t been what he’d planned to say, but it worked.

What he really didn’t need was someone who smelled like spring and who reminded him of everything he’d lost.

Rachel drove away from the Johnson ranch and she was pretty glad to see it in her rearview mirror. She wanted to be a good distance away before the girls released the balloons with messages to their mother. It wouldn’t have done anyone any good to have Rachel crying by their side.

She really should have known that she wouldn’t be able to do this, spend more time with them, and stay detached. After years of considering herself a real pro at detachment, two little girls and a cowboy were going to be her downfall. The signs had been pretty obvious. The girls had been in the nursery and her preschool Sunday school class for six months and it had been way easy to fall in love with them.

Of course Wyatt wasn’t included in those emotions. She felt sorry for him, nothing else. After hearing his conversation with Ryder, she knew he felt about the same for her.

It shouldn’t matter to her what he thought. At twenty-nine, when she finally knew who she was and what she wanted out of life, Wyatt Johnson’s opinion shouldn’t matter. But old feelings of inadequacy didn’t care what she thought of herself now. Those old emotions had a way of pushing to the surface when she least needed them.

So what? She would never be homecoming queen and guys like Wyatt Johnson always laughed behind her back.

It didn’t matter anymore. She wasn’t the fat girl in school or the rebel in the back of a police car trying to prove to people that she wasn’t the good little preacher’s kid.

She knew who she was, and who God wanted her to be. She worked in children’s ministry, helped when her mother’s lupus flared, and she loved her life in Dawson.

All of those pretty sermons to herself didn’t take away a sudden desire for a big, fat chocolate bar. Or brownies with ice cream. She reached for her purse and dug her hand through the side pocket for a pack of gum. As she drove she managed to get a stick of peppermint gum out of the package.

She shoved the gum in her mouth and chewed, trying to pretend it helped the way chocolate helped. It didn’t.

Forget Wyatt, she had other things to do. She was supposed to work for Etta Forrester that afternoon. Etta designed and sewed a line of tie-dye clothing that she sold to specialty boutiques around the country. Etta made sundresses, skirts, pants, tops and even purses. Rachel worked for her a couple of days a week, more if Etta needed. With Etta’s granddaughter, Andie, married to Ryder Johnson and Andie’s twin, Alyson, married to Jason Bradshaw, Etta had more need for help these days.

She drove down the road and pulled into Etta’s driveway. The bright yellow Victorian with the lavender wicker furniture on the wide porch managed to lift Rachel’s spirits. Etta stood on the porch with a watering can in her hand and a floppy hat covering her lavender-gray hair. She waved as she poured water on the flowers. Last week she’d made a trip to Grove and she’d come home with a truck load of plants for the baskets and flower gardens.

Rachel parked under the shade of an oak tree and stepped out of her car. As she walked up the wide steps of the porch, Etta put down the watering can and pulled off her gardening gloves. Her nails were long, painted purple and never chipped. It was a mystery how Etta could take care of this farm, make her clothing and always be perfectly manicured.

The one time Rachel asked how she did it, Etta laughed and said, “Oh, honey, life teaches those little skills.”

Rachel doubted it. She always felt about as together as a pair of old shoes falling apart at the seams. She couldn’t paint her nails without smudging at least one. And her hair. The only good thing that had ever happened to her hair was a ponytail holder.

“Good to see you, honey.” Etta slipped an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “I thought we’d have tea out here before we get started on those T-shirts.”

“Tea sounds wonderful.”

“You look about wrung out. Did you clean Wyatt’s house today?”

Rachel nodded and picked dead blooms off the petunias.

Etta lifted her sunglasses and stared hard. “Well, tell me how it went.”

“The place was definitely a mess.” She shrugged and kept plucking blooms, tossing them over the rail into the yard. “And so is Wyatt.”

“Oh, he isn’t such a mess. He just needs a little time.” Etta lifted the little watch she wore on a chain around her neck. “Goodness, speaking of time. I’m going to keep watering. Do you want to bring the tea out?”

“I can do that.”

Etta had lowered the sunglasses. The big rhinestone encrusted frames covered half her face. “And try not to look so down in the mouth, honey. You’re going to depress me and you know I don’t depress easily.”

Rachel smiled. “Is that better?”

“Not much.” Etta laughed and went back to watering.

“I’ll be back in a few.”

“I’ll be here.”

The dog that had been sleeping under a tree started barking as Rachel fixed the tea tray. She picked up the wooden tray and headed down the hallway to the front door. The door was open and a breeze lifted the curtains in the parlor. Voices carried on that breeze.

“So you think you’re going to learn to cook something more than canned spaghetti and hamburgers?” Etta laughed and said something else that Rachel didn’t hear.

She stopped at the screen door and looked out. Etta was standing on the sidewalk and Wyatt stood next to her. Etta’s skirt flapped in the breeze. Wyatt had taken off his hat and held it behind his back. They were both facing the opposite direction and didn’t see Rachel.

“It can’t be that hard to learn, Etta. I’ve got to show Violet that I’m capable.”

“Of course you’re capable.” Etta turned and waved when she saw Rachel. “There’s Rachel with my tea. Well, have a seat and while you have tea, I’ll look for a cookbook.”

“I appreciate it, Etta, but I don’t have time for tea. The girls are waiting in the truck. We’re going grocery shopping.”

Etta argued, of course she did. “Well, get the girls out.”

Wyatt laughed, white teeth flashing in a kind of hot smile. He shook his head. “I’m not getting them out of the truck. If I do, I’ll never round them up and get them back in the truck. I just thought rather than taking my chance with any old cookbook I found in the store, I’d see if you had one that spelled it all out.”

Etta held the rail and walked up the steps, Wyatt following. “I’ll see what I have. Something with casseroles would be best.”

“If I can throw the whole meal in one pan, I guess that would be the best thing.”

“You ought to know how to cook, Wyatt. It isn’t like you’re a kid.”