Judy Christenberry - Wanted - Christmas Mummy

“I don’t need them.”

All three adults gave him a derisive look.

“Do you hurt, Daddy?” Gareth asked, leaning toward him.

He’d never lied to his children. Well, almost never. Only for their own good. “A little, son.”

“Then you should take your medicine or you won’t get better. ‘Member? You told us.”

Leslie walked into his bathroom and he heard the water run.

“I’m going to be fine,” he told his son, trying to inject a heartiness into his voice to convince him. The headache pounding at his temples made it difficult, though.

“Here’s some water, sweetie. Maybe if you help your dad, he’ll take his medicine. I’m sure he’s not afraid since he’s so big and strong.”

Even though there wasn’t a hint of laughter in her voice, the snickers from his men told him he was right on target when he thought she was making fun of him.

“Here’s the medicine, Justin. You hand it to him and then Gareth can give him the water,” Moss said helpfully.

Doug had no choice but to follow orders.

“Have you two already had breakfast? We were going to have pancakes and you’re welcome to join us,” Leslie offered the cowboys, that warm smile on her lips.

His gut clinched as he watched his men explain that they’d been dragged away from the hospital before eating. Without even a glance in his direction, Leslie led the drooling men from his room.

“Do you want some pancakes, Daddy? We’ll bring you some,” Justin said, patting his father’s cheek.

At least someone hadn’t forgotten him. Not that he wanted Leslie Hibbets to think about him. Of course not. But Moss and Curly could at least remember he was alive.

“No, son, but thanks for offering. I believe I’ll just sleep. You two will be all right, won’t you? You won’t get into trouble?”

“’Course not, Daddy,” Gareth said. “Leslie’s here.”

His mind was growing cloudy and his lips didn’t seem to work too well, but there was something he needed to say. Something about Leslie. Laughter floated up the stairs as he slid into unconsciousness. Yes. There was definitely something about Leslie.

LESLIE POURED MOSS a second cup of coffee and returned to her chair. They’d enjoyed a big breakfast. In between bites, the two men had filled Leslie in on the doctor’s diagnosis.

“So Mr. Graybow is going to have to remain in bed for four or five days? Who will take care of him?” she asked.

“I guess we’ll have to take turns, though we were already short a hand before the boss got hurt. That will make us twice as short.”

Moss glared at his friend, Leslie noticed, when Curly started to speak.

“Maybe you can hire someone to take care of him.” She thought again about the man upstairs refusing to hire her because he was short of money. The hospital bills wouldn’t help.

“Well, it’s kind of difficult…” Moss began and then trailed off, looking as if he wasn’t sure how much he should reveal.

“Look, I’d volunteer,” she began, but before Moss’s grin could spread too wide, she added, “but it wouldn’t work.”

“What do you mean?” Curly asked. “It’d be perfect.”

“No, it wouldn’t. Mr. Graybow doesn’t want me here.”

“He hasn’t tasted your pancakes,” Moss said, his smile still in place.

She chuckled but shook her head no. “Thanks for the compliment, but he made his wishes clear last night.”

“Last night, he thought he could manage. It’s pretty obvious now that he can’t.” Moss watched her reaction.

“We can’t cook for Daddy, Leslie. How will he get something to eat if you don’t stay?” Gareth asked.

“And us, too. You promised to bake cookies,” Justin reminded her.

Leslie knew the boys were trying to manipulate her into feeling sorry for them. They’d already suggested several times that she should stay.

Not that she disagreed with them. She hadn’t been sure what she’d been looking for when she set out on her travels, but a home and family were definitely on the list. This job would be perfect for a few months. She could try out being a mom, see if she really wanted children. The cowboys seemed nice, too. She might even meet that special man she had dreamed of. There certainly seemed to be enough men around to choose from. Immediate thoughts of the one upstairs were hurriedly dismissed.

“I thought we’d have time…” she began in response to the child’s reminder.

Justin’s mouth sagged and Leslie hesitated. “Maybe…maybe I could just stay until tomorrow. That would give you time to find someone, wouldn’t it?” she asked Moss.

“And we could make cookies?” Justin asked.

She nodded to the child, bringing a smile back to his face.

“I’ll sure try to find someone,” Moss promised, his look as eager as the other three males in the room.

“I can do some extra cooking, too, to help out. Things that can be frozen,” she added, her mind racing with the possibilities. “You do have someone to cook for you, don’t you?” she asked Moss.

“Blackie cooks. But lately he’s been having to be in the saddle most of the time. What with the shortage, you know. We’re all mostly living off sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches? After working outside in the cold all day?” she asked, horrified. She’d been cooking for her invalid mother, but she understood the appetites hardworking men could have. “I’ll try to help out while I’m here.”

“That’d be great,” Moss said as he stood.

“But there’s not a lot of supplies here,” she hurriedly added, knowing once the two men left the kitchen she wouldn’t be able to ask any more questions. They’d be out in the cold, working.

“Blackie just got a full order in three days ago. I bet the boss didn’t get around to taking his share of it. You go on down to the bunkhouse and get whatever you need. The boys will show you.”

“All right. I’ll try to have something fixed for dinner when you get in.”

They grinned at her and stepped out onto the snowy porch. As they walked down the steps, Curly said to his friend, “Man, how did we get so lucky?”

Leslie shook her head. The grouch upstairs wasn’t going to think her staying was luck. Unless it was the bad kind. But what could she do? He certainly couldn’t take care of anything since he had to stay in bed. And she was just staying until they found someone else.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered to herself as she retraced her steps to the kitchen. Somehow she didn’t think Moss thought it would be that easy, in spite of the smile he’d given her. If it were, why hadn’t Doug Graybow already filled the position he’d advertised for?

She told the boys to clear the table while she checked on their father. With a few grumbles, they started carrying the dishes to the dishwasher. After several minutes of working in silence, Justin whispered, “Do you think she’ll stay?”

“Maybe. But how come we have to work? I thought a mommy was supposed to take care of us,” Gareth complained.

“I know, but…but I kind of like her. I think she’d make a good mommy. She smells better’n Agnes.”

“Yeah, but she hasn’t made any cookies yet. If she doesn’t make cookies, she can’t be my mommy,” Gareth declared, his jaw squared in determination just like his father’s.

“Okay. She has to make cookies,” Justin agreed. “But do you think Daddy will let her stay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we just won’t tell him.”

“I think he’ll find out. He always does. And then we get in trouble. How about we let him have some of the cookies? I bet he likes ’em, too.”

“Okay, but not too many. I’m this hungry for cookies,” Gareth exclaimed, flinging his arms wide. Unfortunately, he forgot about the glass in his hand, and it went flying across the kitchen to shatter against the cabinet.