The Rancher's Lullaby (Glades County Cowboys) Page 13

  “Gotta work the cattle before the heat of the day,” Doris explained. Despite a calendar that proclaimed October was upon them, the mercury in the big thermometer outside nudged the ninety-degree mark.

  Beneath the kitchen table, Lisa plucked the tune to Garrett’s lullaby on an imaginary guitar. Why had she agreed to perform during the roundup again? Oh, yeah, she needed the money. If she’d known, though, that taking the job meant spending the nights on a camping trip, then rolling out of bed—correction, make that rolling off a hard cot—before sunup, she might have looked harder for another way to supplement her income. She cupped a hand over a yawn.

  Or maybe she’d have found a different way to earn a living altogether. One that didn’t rob her of every drop of energy. She twisted the ends of her ponytail. She’d had no idea that single-handedly running a business could be so demanding. Not even the long tours with the band had taken as much out of her as manning the shop six days a week. Then there were the practices with Garrett, the jam sessions on Tuesday nights and the occasional music lesson. Instead of catching up on her beauty sleep this past month, she’d spent her days off learning to ride a horse and taking LJ on outings with his dad. As a result, half the time she felt as if she was running on fumes.

  The next yawn caught her by surprise, and she apologized.

  “Oh, honey, I usually grab some coffee about now every afternoon. Can I heat you up a cup?” Doris crossed to the counter, where she filled a mug from a nearly empty carafe.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Lisa swallowed. Lately, she’d lost her taste for the standard pick-me-up. Her stomach lurched when Doris placed her cup in the microwave. Bile rose in the back of her throat the second the acrid scent of burned coffee filled the room.

  “Oh,” she whispered. With one hand clamped over her mouth, she rushed for the nearest bathroom. After flushing the last of her stomach’s surprisingly meager contents, she braced herself on the sink.

  What the heck? She didn’t have a fever, aches or pains. That left something she’d eaten. Since she rarely cooked, preferring to eat at The Clock or have food delivered, she ruled out food poisoning. By now, others would be sick, the news all over town. Mulling over the possibilities, she rinsed her mouth and blotted a bead of sweat from her forehead. She sipped a bit of water and waited, relieved when her mutinous tummy quieted.

  She didn’t think she’d spent much time away from the kitchen, but Doris’s cup had disappeared by the time she returned. Steam rose from a pot on the massive stove.

  “Are you all right?” Doris glanced away from the window that overlooked a distant pond.

  Lisa sniffed the air. The breeze that ruffled the window curtains had filled the room with the clean smells of hay and flowers. “Much better,” she said with a sigh. “No more prepared sandwiches from the deli for me, thank you very much.”

  “You don’t think it’s something...serious?” Doris lingered at a cupboard, where choosing two mugs seemed to take her a very long time.

  Lisa shook her head. If she had to guess, she’d blame the reappearance of an old problem with indigestion on the stress of starting a new business in a new town. Recently, she’d stuck to bland foods in an effort to calm her tummy. But last night, she’d been so hungry after her practice session with Garrett that she’d wolfed down a sandwich without thinking about it. Just picturing the mayonnaise-laden chicken salad sent another protest through her midsection. “Blech.”

  Doris settled a tea bag in each mug and added the boiling water. “Here. Try this,” she said, carrying fresh drinks to the table. She slid one in front of Lisa. “Let it steep for a minute. It’ll fix you right up.”

  Touched by the older woman’s kindness, Lisa brushed a stray tear from one eye. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “You want to try some saltines?” Doris placed a sleeve of soda crackers on the table. “I could fix you a slice of dry toast if you’d prefer.”

  The plain white crackers sounded oddly satisfying. Lisa munched on one while she eyed the steeping tea. Uncertain, she sniffed at the brew. The peppermint scent filled her with a sense of well-being, and she relaxed enough to try a sip. The hot beverage warmed and soothed all the way down. As if she’d fed it catnip, her touchy stomach unclenched. “Ah, that hit the spot,” she told Doris and took another appreciative swallow.

  “You just take a minute and relax. You’ve already got some color back in your cheeks.”

  It had been a long time—decades—since she’d been coddled. Lisa took a big breath, determined to enjoy the moment. She ate another cracker and, by the time she finished half her tea, felt well enough to think about something besides herself.

  From frequent talks with Garrett, she knew he wanted to hand down his love of ranching to his young son, the same way his dad had taught him. But taking a one-year-old on a week-long ride through the Florida wilderness didn’t seem like the way to get started. She glanced up from her cup to ask, “Who’s going to watch LJ during the roundup?”

  Doris’s expression clouded as if the question was none of Lisa’s business. After a long pause, the older woman rubbed her hip. “These old bones don’t take to long days in the saddle like they used to. I leave that up to the younger folks and stay off the trail except for the evening we fix swamp cabbage. That’s my specialty,” she said, her expression smug. “I’ll keep LJ here at the house with me otherwise. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no particular reason,” Lisa hedged, not certain Doris appreciated how fond she’d grown of her grandson. The idea of building up her tolerance to the little boy had seemed ludicrous when Garrett had first mentioned it, but his plan was working. One week, she’d played pat-a-cake with LJ beneath an ancient oak tree in the middle of the pasture while Garrett lazed on a blanket beside them. Another, she’d held the boy in her lap and read to him from her favorite childhood books while his dad played the guitar. After their third outing together, she no longer teared up whenever she thought of the child. She stirred her tea and managed a casual, “By the way, where is he this afternoon?”

  Doris waved a dismissive hand. “One of Hank’s cow dogs has a new litter. Sarah took Jimmy and LJ over to see them.”

  So much for her plan to spend a quiet hour with the boy. Thinking about LJ, she nearly missed Doris’s speculative glance.

  “You and Garrett seem to be spending a lot of time together.” His mother swirled her spoon through the last of her tea, the metal scraping against the cup.

  Is this her way of asking my intentions? Amused by the thought, Lisa eyed the woman who sat waiting for an answer. She let a smile play over her lips. Doris could relax.

  Sure, she and Garrett were seeing each other a lot. Several times a week, he made the long drive to Pickin’ Strings, where they’d practice late into the night. He showed up every Tuesday for the bluegrass jam. On Sundays, after her riding lesson, they did something special with LJ. Despite all that, it was as if the night they’d spent together had never happened. Until last night. When Garrett had kissed her. And she’d kissed him back. For the first time, she’d considered the possibility that her growing attraction to the tall rancher might not be one-sided.

  But it had been only one kiss, and she met Doris’s straightforward gaze. “Garrett and I have been working on songs for the roundup. He’s giving me riding lessons. That’s all there is to it.”

  Doris studied her hands. “Garrett’s a good man. A good father. Arlene’s death hit him pretty hard. It hit all of us hard. I wouldn’t want to see him hurt again.”

  If the woman only knew. It wasn’t Garrett’s heart at risk. It was hers. The more time she spent with the man, the more she thought about having him in her life. Over the past six weeks, she’d seen first-hand how much the rancher loved his son, loved his family, loved his life here on the Circle P. In her idle moments, she found herself wondering if he might ever love her, too. Because she was pretty sure she was falling for him. Which was something his mother did not need to know.

  �
�Garrett and I, we’re friends. Good friends,” she said. “Neither of us is looking for anything more. Even if he was, he’s too smart to get involved with someone who might not be here a year from now. I can’t guarantee I will be.”

  “You might leave?” Concern flickered in Doris’s eyes. “But what about...”

  Doris’s mouth clamped shut over unspoken questions when boot heels scraped the concrete patio beyond the screen door. Seconds later, as Garrett entered the room, his mom signaled an end to the uncomfortable interview by taking her empty cup to the sink.

  The rancher swept his Stetson from his head. He brushed his free hand through his hair, his blue eyes crinkling as he focused on Lisa. “Ready to ride?”

  Garrett standing there with his hat in his hand, his eyes smiling, sent warmth rushing through Lisa. “I am if you are,” she answered. She folded the waxed paper edges around the tube of crackers and pushed them aside with a brief, “Thanks for these.”

  Doris spun away from the sink, concern etched on her face. “Are you sure you’re well enough?”

  Garrett’s focus wavered before he honed in on Lisa again. “Feeling under the weather?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I ate something that didn’t agree with me. I’m fine now.” Afraid he’d cancel, she asked if Lady was ready to go.

  Garrett’s lips puckered. “That’s what I was coming to tell you. Lady threw a shoe. The farrier can’t make it out till tomorrow, so I’ve saddled Puck. He’s a bit more headstrong than the mare. I think you’re ready for the challenge, but if you’re not feeling well...”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Let’s mount up.”

  Faced with the choice of going home for a nap or riding with him through the pasture, she’d choose time alone with Garrett any day of the week. Even if it was on a horse that was hard to handle.

  * * *

  DISTANCE, GARRETT REMINDED himself on the walk to the corral. Despite the night they’d spent together, despite the kiss he couldn’t stop thinking about, he and Lisa had opted to keep their distance. A fact that got harder and harder to remember every time he saw her. The urge to touch, to feel her soft skin often overwhelmed him. Like today. And yesterday. And the day before that. As a result, he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Letting them hang at his sides didn’t feel natural. He tried crossing his arms, but angry and distant wasn’t the look he was going for. He stuck one hand in his pants pocket and immediately removed it. He’d dropped his teenage swagger in the dust long before he quit rodeoing to go back to school. Finally, he settled for letting his arms swing at his sides and resisted the urge to take Lisa’s hand in his. Or better yet, wrap one arm around her waist and pull her close. Friends didn’t do that, and that’s all he was to Lisa, right? Just a friend?

  A nagging voice inside his head warned that his relationship with Lisa was dangerously close to leaving that line in the dust. He ignored it. It didn’t matter that he’d used every excuse on the ranch to make the drive into Okeechobee in the past month. Someone had to volunteer to get supplies. It might as well be him. Tack from the hardware store? Stamps from the post office? No problem. He jumped in his truck before anyone else had the chance. If he happened to pop into a certain music shop on the way back, well, no one could fault him for being neighborly. But were Lisa’s feelings changing, too? He didn’t know, and not knowing was part of the problem.

  For now, though, there were horses to ride. Approaching the spot where he’d tied Puck and Gold to a hitching post, he cleared his throat.

  “I went ahead and tacked ’em up. Why don’t you double-check? See that I did it right.” He stepped close enough to catch a whiff of Lisa’s light floral scent as he guided her through the process.

  “Some horses will suck in a gut full of air.” He hooked the stirrup over the pommel so she could check the girth. “You want that strap nice and tight. Too loose and the saddle might slip. It could shift out from under you, and you could lose your seat. Or the horse could develop a blister or sore.”

  He smiled his approval when she insisted on tightening the belt another notch without his help. Spunk and determination were only two of Lisa’s many attributes. When she set her mind to something, there was no stopping her. She approached music the same way, not letting him slide by with a mediocre rendition, even if they were simply practicing for a roundup. No, she made him play the same piece over and over until he got it right. Only then would she treat him to the smile that warmed his heart. Or, like last night, a kiss.

  Hoping he wouldn’t have to wait another six weeks for the next one, he moved closer. “You’re doing great. Need a boost?”

  He swallowed a frown at her quick, “No. I have it, thanks.”

  That was the only disadvantage to their lessons. His student had progressed so nicely that she was perfectly capable of hoisting herself into the saddle. Which didn’t stop him from appreciating the view when she grabbed hold of the pommel and swung easily onto Puck. Deprived of the opportunity to span her narrow waist with his hands, Garrett sucked in a breath and concentrated on providing much-needed information.

  “Make sure you show Puck who’s boss.” He pulled all the slack out of the leads attached to the bridle. Though all the horses on the Circle P were well-trained, each one had its own quirks. “He tends to dawdle. If he starts to pull grass, give him a nudge with your heels and a tug on the reins. He’ll move along.”

  He waited until Lisa held the reins in a firm grip before he mounted Gold. “I thought we’d ride down toward Little Lake. There’s plenty of shade along the way. We can stop and feed the fish once we get there.” Though the lakes and streams around the Everglades teemed with bream and tilapia year round, heat drove the cold-blooded critters into the deeper, cooler water. Tossing out a few handfuls of pellets each day tempted them within catching distance. A good thing, considering the fish fry during the roundup.

  He waited till Lisa sat square in her saddle before he clucked to Gold. With the two horses walking abreast on the wide trail, he searched for a topic that wouldn’t reveal his growing feelings for the woman who sat astride her horse as if she were born to ride.

  “So how’s business?” he asked when he couldn’t think of something better.

  Lisa sighed. “Still slower than I’d like. I’ve been talking to some of the other shop owners. They say it’ll stay this way for another few weeks. Things should pick up next month when the winter residents arrive.”

  “Down here, we call ’em golden eagles.” Garrett ran a hand down Gold’s neck. “Like birds, retirees fly south for the winter. Or drive...in great big motor homes.” He grinned. “Tourist dollars keep most of the businesses in town afloat.” He nodded pointedly when Puck dropped his head to pull at some grass.

  “The mayor stopped by the other day.” Lisa gave her reins a short tug. Once her horse fell in beside Garrett’s again, she continued. “He said the town council has been considering fund-raising ideas for the community center. He asked if I’d be interested in hosting a jam there on Saturday evenings from November through March. He thinks a lot of people would drop in to listen to the music. There’ll be food from the bakery and Nutmeg’s, too.”

  “Wow, that...” sounded a lot like she was sticking around.

  As long as Lisa had planned to pull up stakes and move on, he’d been able to go along with her insistence on a platonic relationship. But if she was staying, that changed things. His thoughts drifted to a future that included her. With a start, he realized she stared at him, expecting a response. He dipped his head until the brim of his Stetson hid the grin that spread across his face. “That’s great!”

  “I thought maybe we could do it together.” Lisa squinted up at him.

  “I’ll have to think on it,” he said as if his heart hadn’t leaped at the idea of spending more time with her.

  They reached a narrow section of the trail, and the horses dropped into single file. He had pulled ahead when Gold tossed his head and snorted. The buckskin
’s ears pulled flat. Garrett sniffed at the strong smell that floated in the still air. Cat, he thought, and wondered if they might spot a panther.

  He turned in his saddle, surprised to see that Lisa and Puck lagged farther behind than he’d thought. Waiting for them to catch up, he signaled Gold to a halt. But Puck veered off the trail, his head dropping toward a clump of tender grass shoots that grew around a small windfall. The hair on the back of Garrett’s neck came to attention.

  “Lisa,” he called. “Rein in.”

  Before she could, a loud hissing scream rent the quiet. A streak of tawny brown fur shot out from the weeds and the jumble of downed tree limbs. Puck’s eyes flared when a large tailless cat burst into view right beneath his nose. The gelding’s ears flattened. He snorted and backed away, but the cat darted through his legs. It dove into another patch of dense scrub. Grass rustled and branches crackled as it disappeared.

  Garrett held his breath, his eyes on Puck. The horse’s front legs rose. Too far away to do a damn thing to help, he watched while Lisa shouted and grabbed for the pommel. In the process, she dropped the reins. Still hissing, the bobcat snarled from its new hiding place. Puck reacted to the noise and the loose reins the only way he could. He ran.

  Garrett swore time stopped. With Lisa hanging on for all she was worth, horse and rider flew past him. He kneed Gold after the runaway, all the while telling himself Lisa wasn’t in any danger. Not really. Not as long as she kept her balance and her seat.

  “Hang on,” he called. He spurred Gold, urging the quarter horse to go faster. Just the same, his heart pounded. He had to reach her, had to get to her before she fell.

  Puck galloped fifty yards before he ran out of steam. Blowing air and shaking his head, the horse finally slowed to a walk. Meanwhile, Lisa sat ramrod straight, her white fingers clutching the pommel as if she’d never let go. A scattering of freckles stood out against skin that had gone ghostly pale.

  Garrett’s stomach plummeted. Beneath him, Gold side-stepped, probably reacting to the reek of fresh cat piss that permeated the air.