Judy Duarte: Romancing the Cowboy

“Greg’s on tour this month,” Jared said.

After Doc’s phone call last night, Jared had called his youngest brother, who was ready to cancel whatever shows necessary to come home, but Jared told him to hold off and that they’d keep him posted on the situation.

“Greg’s getting pretty popular,” Granny said.

“That’s true, but the last time we talked, he mentioned wanting to come home for a visit as soon as he could swing it. I have a feeling he’s going to surprise you one of these days soon.” Jared didn’t mention that the conversation had taken place last night.

The back door opened and shut, then a petite woman with short blond hair entered through the mudroom. She was attractive, Jared supposed, although he’d always been partial to brunettes.

Especially those with long dark hair—like Sabrina, he realized, although that was one attraction that wasn’t going anywhere.

“Can I freshen anyone’s coffee?” the blonde asked, as she headed to the sink and turned on the water to wash her hands.

Granny lifted her cup. “I’ll have a tad more. And now that you’re here, let me introduce you to my sons, Jared and Matt. Boys, this is Consuela Montoya. But she wants to be called Connie.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” The woman smiled shyly, then reached for the coffeepot and replenished Granny’s cup. “Anyone else?”

“Not yet,” Matt said.

“I’ll pass.” Jared studied the woman, noting that her hair had been dyed. Had she been a brunette who’d come in to some cash lately?

Highlights like those were expensive. He knew because his ex had emphasized the blond streaks in her hair that way. And nothing about Jolene or her tastes had been cheap.

“By the way,” Granny said, “someone made me an offer on the Nevada property.”

Jared wasn’t aware that she’d had any out-of-state land or holdings. “What property is that?”

“It’s a large parcel that Everett purchased years ago.” Everett was her late husband, a man who’d passed away just before Jared had been adopted, which meant Granny had owned the land for at least twenty years. “Didn’t I tell you boys about it?”

Jared looked at Matt, who shook his head.

“Well, I plumb near forgot all about it. Everett bought it ages ago, although I can’t remember exactly when.”

“And someone wants to buy it?” Jared asked.

“Yep. And he’s courtin’ me, too.”

Courting her? Jared furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

Granny laughed. “Not courting me like a moonstruck lover. He’s just calling and sweet-talking me some, hoping I’ll sell. And to tell you the truth, I think it’s time. Everett said it would be a good investment for our old age.”

“Where is it located?” Jared asked.

“Not too far from Las Vegas. Everett always thought the town would grow and that the property would be valuable someday.”

“So do you want to sell?” he asked.

“If they make me a decent offer.”

Jared feared, at her age, she might not be able to negotiate a real-estate deal—not without being taken advantage of. And who was to say what a “decent offer” was? “Why don’t you let me talk to that guy the next time he calls?”

“All right.” Granny took a sip of coffee, then watched as Connie took a platter of pancakes from the oven, where they’d been kept warm, and placed them on the table. Each one was an uneven shade of brown and shaped like the ink blots on a Rorschach test. Jared wondered if the hands had chosen the ones that looked more edible and left these behind.

“Hotcakes anyone?” Connie asked.

Matt merely stared at the stack, and Jared wondered if he’d make it until lunch if he didn’t eat any of them.

“Thanks,” Granny said, snagging one that was a little too dark around the edges for Jared’s taste. “They’re looking better each time you make them, Connie. I told you perfect flapjacks just take practice.”

It seemed pretty apparent that Granny hadn’t required her new cook to provide references.

Before long, they were joined at the table by Sabrina and her nephew, whose eyes widened when he spotted Jared. “We never get to eat with the cowboys.” Then his gaze lit on Matt and his wheelchair.

Jared had to give the kid credit for biting his lip, rather than commenting.

After Granny made the introductions, Sabrina dug through the pile of hotcakes and found one shaped like an egg. It was a perfect shade of brown on one side, and nearly white on the other.

She placed it on the boy’s plate, but he seemed more interested in Matt’s chair. Curiosity grew in his eyes.

“My grandfather has a wheelchair,” the boy finally said. “But it isn’t as cool as yours.”

“Mine’s pretty cool,” Matt said.

Was Jared the only one who sensed sarcasm in his brother’s tone?

“What happened to you?” the boy asked. “My grandpa fell down and broke his hip.”

“Matt broke his legs,” Granny explained, probably assuming her middle son would shine the kid like he usually did when someone brought up the subject. Or maybe she was just trying to take the heat off him. “Thank God he won’t have to stay in the chair forever.”

Maybe not, although that was left to be seen. But either way, Matt would never compete in the rodeo again, which was his life. So Jared suspected his brother didn’t get a whole lot of comfort from that. If he did, you’d think he’d be trying harder to get better.

“Have you started physical therapy again?” Granny asked.

Wrong question, Jared could have told her. But he didn’t.

Matt tensed, then glanced at her, his expression blank. “No. Not yet.”

Footsteps sounded, and the redhead—Tori—joined them at the table, taking a seat next to the boy.

“How’d you sleep last night?” Tori asked Granny.

“Only woke up once to use the bathroom,” Granny said. “You were right about that medication.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

It was bad enough that three strangers had infiltrated Granny’s life and home, but it was even worse to have them buttinginto her personal habits.

“Hey, cool,” Joey said, as he pulled his fork out of the gooey middle of his hotcake. “They’re cream-filled.”

“Uh-oh. Sorry about that.” The blond cook snatched away the boy’s plate. “That’s not cream filling, it’s batter. I guess that one needs to be cooked a little more.”

This was crazy. Jared wondered if Sabrina, the bookkeeper, knew how to run an adding machine or if Tori, the maid, knew which end of the broom was up.

He had to talk Granny into selling the ranch and moving in with him, where he could take care of her. Too bad she was every bit as stubborn as she was good-hearted.

A knock sounded at the door. Before waiting to be invited in, the ranch foreman entered the mudroom. “Sorry to interrupt breakfast, but Earl Clancy just split his head wide-open. He’s refusing to go into town and see a doctor, but it looks pretty bad to me.”

“He needs to go anyway,” Sabrina said. “If he’s worried about the cost, worker’s compensation will take care of it.”

Tori scooted her chair away from the table. “I’ll go take a look at the wound. Maybe I can talk Earl into getting it checked.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” Lester turned toward the door and placed his hat back on his head. “I’d sure appreciate that.”

The redhead reached into a cupboard near the refrigerator and pulled out a white metal box with a red cross on the front. Jared wondered if she had first-aid training, suspecting that she might have. Still, that didn’t make her Florence Nightingale.

“You know,” he said, getting to his feet, “I think I’ll go check on the injured man myself. If he needs a doctor, I’ll drive him into town.”