Marie Ferrarella - Cavanaugh Cowboy

Miss Joan didn’t seem surprised by the revelation. Despite her earlier question, she had never envisioned Seamus Cavanaugh quietly sitting in a rocking chair, watching life passing him by.

“And did he?” she asked.

“Well, since he couldn’t get back into the police department because of his age, he decided to start up his own firm,” Sully told the older woman. “At first, it was going to be a detective agency, but he realized that that might require a lot of stealth, undercover work and although he really hated to admit it, he wasn’t as quick or as spry on his feet as he once was. Running a security firm suited his needs far better.”

Miss Joan’s deep, rich laugh echoed through the diner. “That sounds just like Seamus,” she said with something that sounded like affection. And then her tone shifted just a little as she asked Sully, “So what does his wife have to say about this newest undertaking of his?”

“Nothing,” Sully answered. He saw Miss Joan’s expertly drawn-in eyebrows rise in a silent query, so he answered her question before she asked it. “His wife died more than ten years ago. That’s what prompted him to pack up and go live in a retirement community to start with. But a few years into that, Uncle Seamus decided that kind of life was just too stagnant for him.”

“Humph,” Miss Joan reflected. “A retirement community would be too inert and soul killing for a man like Seamus,” she declared. She leaned in a little closer again. “So, how’s his firm doing? Really.”

His great-uncle had just taken on another operative and he was still turning away business. Sully had to admit that the man was happier than he’d seen him in a long while. But that was something for Seamus to share with Miss Joan on his own.

So Sully just replied, “Keeps him busy.”

Miss Joan nodded, thinking. “Maybe once you’ve sorted out whatever it is that brought you down here, Harry and I will invite Seamus to come on out for a visit.”

“Harry?” For a moment, Sully drew a blank. Was this someone in Forever, or from Seamus’s past?

“My husband,” Miss Joan clarified, adding, “the man who finally wore me down and pushed a ring on my finger. Technically, the ranch you’ll be staying on is Harry’s. But the man’s got no more use for it than I do. So now we’ve got a foreman running things, and every once in a while,” she added like a recently remembered footnote, “we sell one of the horses bred there.”

Mandy appeared at her elbow with a tray. “Angel sent out the lunch you asked for.”

“I didn’t ask for it. He did,” Miss Joan corrected. Taking the tray from the waitress, the diner owner quickly distributed what was on there and placed it in front of Sully. “Here’s your lunch, boy. Hope it meets with your expectations.”

The statement was politely worded, but there was no mistaking the confidence that was behind it. Miss Joan was expecting nothing short of a euphoric response from the first forkful to the last.

Well, Sully thought, half amused, half bemused, he could always fake it if need be.

He cut into the steak and eased the first piece into his mouth while Miss Joan watched him, waiting for his response.

When flavor exploded in his mouth, he was slightly surprised and deeply relieved.

“It’s good,” he told his great-uncle’s friend.

“Of course it’s good,” Miss Joan answered. “I told you it would be. Were you expecting that it wouldn’t be?”

“No, Miss Joan,” Sully answered politely, “I wasn’t expecting anything else except what you said.”

Miss Joan merely smiled, knowing that he was humoring her. But given who he was and who his great-uncle was, she didn’t mind. She nodded her head. “You’ll do, boy. You’ll do.”

Miss Joan smiled and nodded with approval as she cleared away the empty plates.

“Well, for a man who didn’t want to eat anything, you certainly did justice to that steak and apple pie,” she commented, then swiped a cloth along the counter, getting rid of any lingering crumbs. Finished, she asked, “Can I get you anything else?”

“Only if you want to watch me explode,” Sully answered.

He placed his hand against his stomach as if he was trying to keep the contents inside from suddenly emerging.

“Wouldn’t want to see that,” Miss Joan told him with a puckered expression. “All right then, if you can wait here for a while—no more than an hour—Harry said he can come by and bring you up to the J-H Ranch.”

Sully saw no reason why he needed to be taken by the hand and escorted. “I don’t want to put you out any further,” he told Miss Joan. “I’m sure I can find the ranch on my own. Just point me in the right direction and tell me approximately how many miles the ranch is from here.”

The lines along Miss Joan’s forehead furrowed, forming a skeptical pucker.

“Are you sure?” she asked. She was used to townspeople finding their way around, but this was a tenderfoot, and she had no knowledge about his innate skills. “Because Harry won’t mind. The man loves company and he loves to talk. Says he doesn’t get much practice with me around. Something about sucking up all the oxygen in the room,” she added, shaking her head and dismissing her husband’s words.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sully told her. He noticed that Mandy reached under the counter to take the dishes that Miss Joan had cleared away. The waitress lingered just long enough to look at him longingly. “Once I get settled in, I would love to meet with your husband, Miss Joan, but right now, I’m anxious to see where I’ll be hanging my hat for the next few weeks.”

“You’re not just going to be hanging your hat,” Miss Joan informed him. She eyed Sully, trying to decide if he was just talking or if he was serious. If it was the latter, he needed to be set straight. “You understand that you’re going to be working for your keep once you’re at the ranch. My foreman doesn’t have much patience with people who don’t pull their own weight or are waiting to be served,” she told Sully.

“Oh, I understand,” he answered, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings. “Uncle Seamus made the terms of this arrangement very clear, and to be honest, I’m really looking forward to working with my hands.”

Miss Joan studied him for a moment, decided he was being honest and then nodded. “All right then, about those directions you wanted.”

Flipping over the menu she had just used earlier, Miss Joan took out the pencil she had in her apron pocket. Using a minimum of strokes, she drew a very basic map for Sully that took him from the center of the town to edge of the ranch that she and Harry owned.

Finished, she put the pencil back into her pocket with a flourish and let him have the map.

“You sure you don’t want to wait for Harry?” she asked, looking at him somewhat dubiously.

“No, this’ll do fine,” Sully assured her, tapping the map she had drawn for him.

Miss Joan had never accepted anything at face value. This was no exception. “How often do you get lost?”

“I don’t,” he said simply. “I just keep on going until I get there.”

Her expression was only partially skeptical at this point.

“All the same, I wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for losing one of Seamus’s great-grandkids, even if he does have a bunch of them to spare,” Miss Joan said.

“You won’t be.” His tone was final, indicating that the discussion was at an end. Sully reached into his pocket again, this time to take out his wallet. He was about to flip the folded leather open. “How much do I owe you for lunch?”

Miss Joan’s face darkened, like clouds gathering in the sky just before a storm. “You take your hand out of your pocket, boy, or your journey’s going to be over before it ever gets started,” she warned him. Under her watchful eye, Sully did as he was told—for now. “Nothing was said about there being a charge for lunch.”