Rita Herron - Certified Cowboy

Rachel glanced at the mutt and nearly choked on a laugh. Cleo was a mixed mutt of some kind, a cross between a basset hound and a beagle and God knew what else.

Johnny’s troubled look faded at her son’s outburst, and he turned to Kenny with a smile. “That’s Cleopatra, but we call her Cleo,” Johnny said. “Come on, Kenny. She’s been lonely and needs a friend.”

Rachel sensed he wasn’t just talking about the dog. That he had figured out more about her from their initial meeting than she’d intended to reveal.

No…that wasn’t possible.

Not unless Rex had followed her or somehow discovered she’d been checking out this ranch. If he had, he could have already contacted the people here. Maybe he’d called Johnny and spouted off his book of lies.

What if he’d asked Johnny to play nice to her, to lull her into a sense of safety until Rex could show up?

Her head was churning with suspicions, her panic-voice urging her to run again, so loudly that she hadn’t noticed that Johnny had helped Kenny down from the truck and they were playing with the dog.

The pathetic, bony-looking animal had sprawled on the ground and was salivating as Kenny scratched between her floppy ears.

Rachel climbed down to join them, the joy on her son’s face deflating her earlier worries. She was just being paranoid. There was no way Rex could know she was here.

“Mom, Cleo and I are gonna be best friends.”

She knotted her hands, ready to deny him. But Johnny stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. A gentle hand that made her look up into his eyes. Eyes that were usually flirty but eyes that looked soulful now, as if he saw too much.

The realization made her shift uncomfortably.

“Cleo was a stray I found on the side of the road,” he said quietly. “She’d been abandoned and abused. She needs someone to love her.”

Tears burned Rachel’s throat. He sounded so sincere.

And somehow he’d sensed the fact that her son needed stability. Peace. Normalcy.

The BBL offered all those things. The kind of comfort and home neither of them had had in a very long time.

She let him guide her toward the dining hall. They would stay, she decided.

But at the first sign of trouble, that Rex had followed them, they’d hit the road and never look back.

Chapter Three

Johnny noted the skittish gleam in Rachel’s eyes but forced himself not to push for the reason. Breaking horses had taught him patience, that it took time to win an animal’s trust, and he figured the same for her.

Besides, did he really want to know about her problems?

No. He couldn’t get caught up in her life. He was here to help the lost kids, not become involved with a woman.

But the sight of Kenny’s excited face as Cleo licked his hand stirred emotions deep inside him. And so did Rachel’s obvious love for her son.

Unlike his own mother…

Don’t go there, Johnny.

“Let’s step inside the dining hall and I’ll introduce you to Ms. Ellen. She’ll be the main cook and is the head honcho in the kitchen.”

“Can I stay out here and play with Cleo?” Kenny asked.

Rachel glanced around the property, then chewed on her bottom lip as if debating whether she should leave him alone.

“It’s okay,” Johnny assured her. “It’s safe here, Rachel.”

Her gaze jerked to his, and for a brief second fear registered. That and distrust.

Did she think he would hurt her?

Maybe she had seen that news story…

But she conducted another visual sweep of the area, then gave a reluctant nod to her son. “Okay, Kenny, but stay here by the building. Don’t wander off.”

Kenny plunked down on the grass under a Texas red oak, and Cleo rested her head in his lap. “Then we can see the puppies?”

Johnny nodded. “Do as your mama says and yes, then we’ll see Cleo’s pups.”

Kenny’s crooked teeth shone as he bobbed his head up and down, then he cuddled the dog and began to rub her belly.

“He’s always wanted a pet,” Rachel confessed as they climbed the porch steps and entered the cafeteria-style room. “But I hope he doesn’t become too attached.”

Meaning she probably didn’t plan on sticking around. “We’ll probably be looking for homes for the pups,” Johnny said anyway.

She glanced at him, but again that wary expression returned. But she was saved from answering by Ms. Ellen, who came bounding around the corner of the kitchen.

The scent of homemade cinnamon rolls filled the air, and Johnny’s stomach growled.

“Well, if it ain’t the Johnny Long,” Ms. Ellen said. “You must have smelled the buns in the oven.”

“Thought I was smelling heaven,” Johnny said with a wink. Ms. Ellen was a plump middle-aged woman with a smile as broad as her hips and a heart that never quit giving. When Brody had mentioned needing a cook, Johnny had visited one of the homeless shelters near San Antonio and found the gem of a woman.

After all, she needed a second chance herself, so hiring her was the perfect solution.

Ms. Ellen wiped her hands on her apron and looked at Rachel. “And who is this, Mr. J.? Your girlfriend?”

Rachel’s face blanched, and Johnny nearly choked. “No…uh…she’s your new assistant cook.”

“Well, thank the Lord,” Ms. Ellen said. “With all those hungry kids and the hands coming in, I need some help.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you’re awfully skinny, girl. You really know how to cook?”

Rachel smiled, seemingly grateful to have the awkward moment pass. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ms. Ellen made a smacking sound with her mouth. “Well, then, welcome to Ms. Ellen’s kitchen. How about I show you around?”

“Can it wait till tomorrow?” Johnny said. “She just arrived, so I need to give her a tour of the rest of the ranch and settle her into a cabin.”

Ms. Ellen nodded, then bundled up them both some cinnamon rolls before she allowed them to leave. Johnny dug into one as they walked back outside, then handed one to Kenny, whose face lit up as he sank his teeth into the gooey pastry.

Rachel laughed, and the three of them, plus Cleo, climbed back into his truck for the rest of the tour. He showed her the stables where they kept the quarter horses, the pens for training and for riding lessons, the arena where they planned to hold the rodeo, and the barn and pastures for the beef cattle and calves.

Kenny seemed to loosen up, his excitement mounting with each discovery, and Rachel finally relaxed. And when Johnny showed them inside the barn, and Kenny saw the puppies, he thought he detected tears in Rachel’s eyes.

“Kenny,” Johnny said gruffly. “If you’re going to stay here, you have to earn your keep.”

Kenny’s smile faded and apprehension streaked his little face. Then he inched closer to his mother and ducked behind her, his big eyes frightened again. “Yes, sir.”

Johnny grimaced at the sudden change in the boy’s demeanor.

“What does he have to do?” Rachel asked, her tone defensive.

Johnny knelt in front of Kenny and scooped up one of the puppies. “I thought you’d look after Cleo and her boys. Make sure Cleo gets food and water every day, and play with the pups. They’re just babies and need exercise.”

The frightened expression in Kenny’s eyes morphed from relief to childlike glee in a millisecond.

“Do you think you can do that for me?” Johnny asked, careful to use a gentle voice. “It would really help me out.”

“Yes, sir, I can do it.” Kenny squared his shoulders as if he was a little man and had just been given an important job.

Johnny gave him a high five, but the boy’s reaction still troubled him. Kenny had expected something worse to be asked of him. Just what had happened to the kid?