Christine Wenger - Not Your Average Cowboy

Merry wanted to know what had happened between Buck and his daughter to make the little girl shun his affection. Could Cait still be that traumatized because her mother had left her? Maybe it was because Buck had thrown himself into his work and ignored her at a critical time in her young life.

Merry supposed it was possible that both of these things could have made Cait withdraw.

It was obvious that Buck loved his daughter, but he seemed frustrated as to what to do at this point.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Buck gently take Cait’s little hand and hold it. Merry blinked back tears. At least when the girl was sleeping, she didn’t pull away from him.

Merry’s own eyes wouldn’t stay open, and she felt herself floating into sleep. Her head was so heavy, she couldn’t help but lean the side of her face against the cold pane of the truck’s window.

She let herself drift off, just a little.

“Hey, Meredith Something Turner, wake up,” whispered a deep voice. “We’re here.”

“This isn’t Boston,” she mumbled, trying to get the cobwebs out of her brain.

“Far from it.”

Rubbing her eyes, she noticed that the passenger’s side door was open, and Buck held his daughter and the stuffed cat—Princess—in his arms.

Then she remembered. She was at the Porter ranch.

She scrambled out of the tall pickup, shut the door and followed unsteadily behind him, more than a little sleep-drunk.

“Would you mind opening the door? The key’s under the third flowerpot from the right.”

Merry found the key and was unlocking the door when she heard Buck humming a soft tune. She stole a glance at the big cowboy, swaying slowly, studying his daughter, who was sleeping peacefully in his arms.

By the light of the moon, she could see the love on his face. Yet bone-deep sadness was visible in the tightness around his mouth. His daughter couldn’t—or wouldn’t—return his love.

He met her gaze as she held the door open for him to enter the house.

When he was halfway down the hallway with Cait in his arms, he asked, “Is there anything you need?”

“No. I’m fine. You just take care of Cait.”

He shifted his daughter’s weight. Cait gave a little sound but never woke. “Cait has been sleeping in here because her room is being painted. We were going to move her to Karen’s room when you arrived, but her room isn’t done yet, either. The painters just need one more day so they can finish up. Then we can get everything back to normal.” He hesitated. “I don’t know what Karen had in mind for sleeping arrangements for Cait tonight. The two of them were sharing my bed. Every other room is cluttered with furniture and smelling of paint. I could put Cait on the couch in the living room.”

“Don’t you dare put her on the couch. If anyone goes on the couch, it’ll be me. Cait can have the tree bed.” She remembered that Buck had moved out of his room. “I could take the futon, that’s perfectly fine with me. But I don’t want Cait waking up, seeing me, and being scared. I’m really a stranger to her.”

“Everyone’s a stranger to her,” he whispered.

Merry followed Buck into her room. She flung back the linens of the tree bed. “She must be getting heavy.”

“Never.”

He set his daughter down gently, her head on the pillow. He took off her shoes and set them on the floor. Then he placed the stuffed cat next to her. He moved the sheet, blanket and comforter over Cait and gently brushed her hair from her face. He kissed her softly on the forehead. “G’night, Caitie. May your dreams be as sweet as you.”

How beautiful, Merry thought. How loving. If just once her mother or father had said something like that to her, but they never had. She’d gotten all her kind words from Pamela, the housekeeper.

He stood, looking at his daughter for a while, and then turned as if suddenly remembering that Merry was there.

“I should get you settled.” He looked around the room. “Where did Karen put the linens for the futon? They’re probably in the closet in the bathroom.”

He suddenly looked tired.

“I can handle it.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“Buck, are you sure I shouldn’t sleep on the couch? If she wakes up and I’m here—”

“Hard to tell what Cait will do. She seems to tolerate you more than some,” he said. “She knows you from TV, so you’re not a complete stranger. I’m sure she’ll be okay, but it’s late, so if you don’t mind for one night…”

“No. Not at all.”

For what seemed like an eternity, he stared at Merry. “You know, if you’re scared to be alone, I can sleep here, too.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I meant that I’ll take the couch in the living room,” he added, and grinned. “But really, there’s nothing to be afraid of. There hasn’t been a snake or a burro in the house in…” He looked at his watch. “In at least two hours. But let me get my rifle, and I’ll have a look under the futon for you.”

Terror struck deep into her bones. Snakes? But even in the dim light, she saw the twinkle in his eyes, and she knew she was being teased.

“Buck, you don’t have to sleep on the couch. You can go to the…um…” She couldn’t think of the word that Karen had used earlier. “Barracks?”

“Bunkhouse.”

“Yes. Go ahead. We’ll be all right.”

He tweaked the brim of his hat and walked out of the room. In the doorway, he paused and looked back. “Thanks again…for everything,” he said, but didn’t leave. “Um…Cait might have a nightmare. I just wanted you to be aware of that.”

With that, he was gone.

A nightmare. Terrific.

She could make an eight-course meal for a party of fifty. She could decorate a three-thousand-room hotel and casino. She could write bestselling cookbooks, change the Porter’s home into a successful dude ranch like they’d asked her to do, but she knew nothing about children.

Meredith Turner had never been a child herself.

The windows of the room stared back at her like huge, blank eyes. She undressed in the bathroom.

Even though Buck had been teasing her about snakes, she hated to have her fears thrown in her face. She hated to show one chink in her armor. Her competitors would like nothing better than to find something on her, something past or present that they could zero in on.

She was supposed to be the perfect woman, the perfect hostess, the perfect cook and homemaker.

Meredith Bingham Turner, Miss Hospitality.

If she believed her own hype, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do.

She found a sheet, blanket and pillow in the linen closet in the bathroom, and began to make up the futon.

Listening to Caitlin’s gentle breathing, she wondered again what demons had a hold of the sweet little girl.

Merry knew about demons. She was a personal failure, in spite of her business success. Men wooed her, then they used her for her clout or for her bank account, or both, so it was impossible to know whom she could trust.

She couldn’t get a compliment from her parents even if she received every award known to humankind. She needed to get better control over her company, and she needed a break from men. Her one true friend was in the hospital, and Merry had a gut feeling that Bucklin Floyd Porter and his daughter were going to test her mettle.

So no matter how handsome he was, no matter how delicious he looked in jeans, no matter how sweet he was to his daughter or how his deep voice made her think of moonlit nights and satin sheets, the last thing she needed was to get involved with him or Cait.

Then again, he hadn’t asked her to get involved. She was just here to do a job. And that was a good thing because she had nothing else to give anyone.