Must Love Cowboys (6 page)

“Calvin's bound to be in the hospital for a while, and even when he comes home, he'll have to take it easy for several weeks.” Although Joe was ordinarily rather homely, his smile made him look downright sweet. “Think you could stick around until he gets better? We'd pay you, of course. I'm positive Angela would agree to it.”

I returned my attention to the omelet, adding a slice of cheese before folding it and transferring it to my plate. “I dunno… I'd have to think about it.”

“No problem. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Okay.”

Joe sauntered off to join the other men in the mess hall.

Six cowboys. Six healthy, hungry cowboys who probably weren't terribly picky about what they ate. Most people would consider that work. To me, it sounded like a dream vacation. I might change my mind after a week or two, but
still
…

I had no plans—nowhere else I truly wanted to go. Nothing I absolutely had to do. These guys needed me to cook for them, and I'd already moved in—sort of. I might even get paid.

Or laid…

I carried my plate into the mess hall. Taking a seat next to Nick, I reached for the toast just as Dean handed me the platter. Sonny got up and poured me a cup of coffee like he'd been waiting tables all his life.

I dug into my omelet, too occupied with my own thoughts to take part in the men's conversation as they wolfed down their breakfasts. Beyond noting that they were discussing the work that needed to be done that day, I paid them no heed.

I wasn't the only woman on the ranch, nor, if the men were to be believed, was I the only one who knew how to cook. Wyatt could easily take over for Calvin, although whether he would want to take on the extra job remained to be seen. He might be
able
to cook but not care for the idea.

After that first terse meeting, Wyatt was starting to grow on me. In the beginning, I'd only gotten a “get lost” vibe from him. I had no clue how he felt about me now, but I had earned at least a smidgen of his approval. Still, Joe was the foreman, and as such he had some authority. As long as Wyatt didn't make me too miserable and Dean didn't get too flirty, I figured I could handle the job.

The one thing I refused to do, however, was to stick around if there was any resentment toward me. I'd had to deal with enough of that in my previous job. Most of the men had ignored me, but some were openly antagonistic—like I was trespassing on their turf or some such nonsense. As a result, I'd been given some of the crappier jobs. My only consolation was that none of them had expected me to make the coffee.

These men, on the other hand, would probably only resent me if I tried to tell them how to take care of cows and horses. I didn't know a thing about ranching, and if I kept to myself, they could go on as they had before. All I had to do was feed them. Any kisses I might receive would simply be a perk. If I played my cards right, I might even get more than that.

Dream on, Tina.

I took a sip of my coffee, only to stop short as I realized every eye was on me. “What?”

“Thinking pretty hard, huh?” Dean asked.

“Evidently.” They seemed to be expecting an answer to something. Too bad I hadn't heard the question—although I could probably make a good guess.

“I said, ‘great breakfast,'” Dean explained.

“Oh…thanks.”

“Could I have an omelet like that tomorrow?” Sonny asked.

“Me too,” Nick said. “Looks great!”

I glanced at Joe. “What did I miss?”

“I, um, told them about the job offer.”

“And?”

“They all approve and want you to start right now,” Joe replied.

“Yeah,” Nick said. “We think it's a terrific idea. Think you could make us some lunch to take with us?”

Clearly, I was hired. “Sure. What would you like?”

Not having been given much time to prepare, that first lunch was pretty ordinary. I made some ham and cheese sandwiches and packed up several bags of fruit and chips.

Dinner was a different story.

Joe must've called Angela and told her about me staying on as the cook because she came down to the bunkhouse soon after the men had gone off to do whatever it was cowboys did all day. Left to myself, I wouldn't have had the first clue as to how many chickens to fix for dinner or even when to have it ready. Thankfully, Angela had done some cooking for the men and was able to give me a few pointers.

“They usually eat at six, and you'll need at least three chickens,” she said in response to my questions. “Four if you want leftovers.”

“Wow. How on earth can you afford to feed them?”

“We raise most of the meat—the freezer is full of beef, pork, and chicken. We also grow some vegetables, and I do a lot of canning and freezing. I make a run into town once a week for anything else we need. Calvin gives me a list.”

“How is he?” I asked. “Have you heard anything?”

“Wyatt called about an hour ago and said Calvin was back in the coronary care unit after an emergency cardiac catheterization. The cardiologist said he'd put in three stents and that Calvin's vital signs are stable. He's still not awake, though.” She shrugged. “All we can do now is wait and hope for the best. Wyatt and Bull are on their way home. I'm gonna head over there later this afternoon. Sure wish he had some family we could call.”

“I take it none of you has power of attorney for him?” Mom had been Grandpa's POA, which was a tough job even for a relative. To be POA for an employee would be strange to say the least.

“No. I wish we did. Right now, the doctors are making decisions on an emergency basis.” She paused, biting her lip. “As far as I know, he doesn't have a living will, but I'm guessing he wouldn't want to be on life support.”

“I don't doubt it. My grandfather didn't want any of that.” Mom and I had made a point of having all the legal details in place long before they were needed. But then, we were family. This was different.

“It'd be nice to know for sure.” She patted my arm. “I hope you're up to this. I'll be gone for a couple of days at least.”

Recalling all the wide-open spaces I'd driven through to get to the Circle Bar K, I couldn't help wondering just where that ambulance had taken Calvin. “Where is he?”

“Salt Lake City,” she replied. “They flew him out of Rock Springs in a helicopter.” She paused, smiling. “Poor Wyatt. I can't imagine driving all the way to Salt Lake and back with Bull—but then, Wyatt is one of the few people who can get Bull to be quiet for more than five minutes.”

I'd already picked up on the fact that Bull was quite a talker. Steering clear of both of them when they came back might be best. “They're probably too tired to talk much by now.” I knew that feeling too, the mute numbness that came with total exhaustion. Toward the end of Grandpa's long illness, I'd gone for days grabbing snatches of sleep whenever I could, never truly getting enough rest.

She nodded. “At least they can take turns driving. Anyway, they won't be back until later this afternoon. Guess I'd better go get packed up myself, although I really hate to leave right now.”

“You said something last night about having a lot of trouble lately. What kind of trouble?”

“Weird stuff,” she replied. “Fences cut, cattle missing for a while, but then we find them straying. We fix the fences only to find another place cut a few days later.”

“So nobody is actually stealing cattle, just cutting the fence?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it's weird because all it does is make more work for the guys.”

“Ever seen any suspicious characters hanging around?”

Angela let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “Not yet. As big as this ranch is, it's damn near impossible to patrol all of it. At least, not with our limited manpower. Even having a couple of the guys ride the fence line every night wouldn't help much. The culprit could easily sit back and wait until they were gone and then cut the fence.” She shrugged. “I guess some kids could be doing it as a prank, but I can't imagine why they would target this ranch in particular. None of the other ranchers I've talked to have had this problem.”

“That
is
weird,” I agreed. “Is there anybody who might be holding a grudge?”

“Not that I can think of, unless we've got enemies we don't even know about.”

“That's doubtful. Most of us know who our enemies are.” I smiled. “I'll keep an eye out for anything weird, although I have no idea what would be weird on a ranch. Never been on one before.”

Angela smiled back at me. “You might be just the one to notice something we wouldn't.” Her expression sobered. “Listen, thanks for agreeing to stay on and help out. Everything's gonna be kinda chaotic around here for a while.”

“I'll try to keep the guys under control.”

“Yeah, right,” she drawled. “I can really see that happening.”

I laughed. “I only said I would
try
.”

“I can't ask for more than that. Guess I'd better get packing. If you need anything from town, Dad or Dusty can give you the money and one of the guys can go with you.”

“Might take me a while to figure things out, but I'll do my best. Right now, I just have to do some poking around in the cabinets to see what's here.”

“I certainly don't envy you
that
job.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I'll call when I get to the hospital. What's your cell number?”

I gave her the number and she entered it into her phone. “Most cell phones don't work out here, so I'll probably call the bunkhouse phone—there's an extension in your room—but it wouldn't hurt for me to have it just in case. I'll keep you all posted on Calvin, and if you can come up with anything regarding his next of kin, give me a call. Hopefully, he'll wake up and they'll let him come home soon.”

She didn't mention the other possibility, which was that Calvin wouldn't wake up and wouldn't ever come home. I hated to seem pessimistic, but after the way Calvin had looked when I found him, I wasn't holding out much hope.

I wished her a safe trip and got back to work. Having heard the “three chickens” thing, I figured I'd better start thawing out some stuff.

As Angela had reported, the huge chest-type freezer and the pantry were full. I might run out of a few things, but meat and vegetables weren't among them. Nor, I soon discovered, would we run out of flour or sugar anytime soon. I found a fifty-pound bag of each in the pantry. I couldn't imagine going through such quantities before the ants got into them, but then, I'd never cooked for a bunkhouse full of cowboys.

I found a few cookbooks to guide me on making meals for a crowd, picked out some recipes, and got started. I'd already made an apple pie and had the chickens marinating and a pot of green beans simmering on the stove by three thirty when Bull and Wyatt returned.

“I thought you'd be gone by now,” Wyatt said, his tone carefully neutral. Perhaps he was regretting that comment about me being responsible for saving Calvin's life.

Heat of the moment and all.

“I fixed breakfast for the men, and Joe asked me to stay on as cook until Calvin comes home. Angela seemed to like the idea.”

Wyatt responded with a flick of his brow, clearly debating the pros and cons of having a female in charge of the bunkhouse kitchen.

Bull was more direct. “Yes, but do we really need you? I can cook, and so can Wyatt.”

“Yeah, well, you two went off in the middle of the night and left the guys to fend for themselves, none of whom can even fry eggs. Dean nearly burned down the bunkhouse before I took over.”

Wyatt still wasn't saying anything. I didn't know him well enough to know if that was out of character for him or not, although he'd been pretty outspoken so far. I waited while his gaze swept the kitchen.

“Bull,” he began, “when's the last time we had apple pie?”

“Shit, I dunno,” Bull said, scratching his shaven head. “Christmas, maybe?”

Wyatt nodded at the corner table where the pie sat on a cooling rack. “I think we oughta let Tina do the cooking. We'll have enough to do being a man short, what with all the trouble we've been having with the fences.”

Bull's jaw dropped as he followed the direction of Wyatt's gesture. “Damn! Calvin hardly ever makes desserts. Says fresh fruits are better for us. Won't let us eat white bread, either.”

“He's right about that,” I said. “But I'm guessing he didn't have the time to do much baking if he had other work to do.”

“Maybe so,” Bull admitted. “I kept telling him he should just stay here and cook. He said it would be too boring.”

Calvin was probably right about that too. Still, a man who required three stents to unclog his coronary arteries probably hadn't had much energy of late. Of course, sitting around doing nothing might have made them clog up faster. I had a feeling that spending all day cooking and tasting would pack even more pounds on my hips. Ophelia and I were going to have to go for lots of walks.

Bull gazed longingly at the pie. “Don't suppose we could have some of that now, could we?”

“Help yourself. Just make sure you leave some for the other guys.”

“I'll only eat a small piece,” Bull promised, crossing his heart.

I glanced at Wyatt. “What about you? Are you hungry? Or would you rather wait until dinner?”

As exhausted as both men were bound to be, my first choice would've been a nap. Clearly these guys were made of sterner stuff.

“I'll save the pie for after dinner,” Wyatt said. “Right now, I'd kill for a grilled cheese sandwich.”

Of all the things I would've expected a man like Wyatt to ask for, grilled cheese wasn't among them. Then again, as a comfort food, grilled cheese was tough to beat. “No problem. Have a seat. Want something to drink? I made some fresh tea.”

“Sounds good.” He took off his hat and sat down. Rather than sagging with exhaustion, his shoulders seemed sort of stiff, like he needed a massage more than a sandwich.

Had he ever had someone to rub his back after a hard day? Would he even want that? God knew I would never ask—or offer.

Just fix him a sandwich, Tina.

That much I could do. While the skillet was heating up, I poured them each a glass of tea. As I set the tea in front of them, I eyed the pie askance, noting that a full quarter of it was missing. “Small piece, huh?”

“Couldn't help it,” Bull declared as he scooped up another forkful. “This is the best thing I ever ate in my life.”

“I doubt that,” I said dryly. “You know what they say about hunger being the best sauce.”

“He couldn't be
that
hungry,” Wyatt said. “It's not like we haven't eaten since we left here last night.”

“Yeah, but we didn't stop for lunch,” Bull reminded him. “I'm not used to missing meals.”

“I take it you'd also like a sandwich?”

His fork clattered on the empty plate. “Umm… could you make that two?”

I glanced at Wyatt. “What about you. Is one enough?”

To my surprise, he winked. “Yeah. But I think I'd better have a piece of that pie before it disappears.”

“Guess I should've made two pies. I'll know better next time.” No wonder Calvin seldom bothered to make dessert. If he had, he wouldn't have had time to do anything else.

I, on the other hand, had time to spare. I even had time to make another pie before dinner.

I could get used to this.

I gave Wyatt a plate and fork before returning to the stove. As I buttered slices of bread and put them in the skillet, I realized I had time to make homemade bread, pots of soup that cooked all day, and any other time-consuming recipe that came to mind. Calvin probably felt rushed no matter what he fixed.

While the sandwiches were grilling, I took the opportunity to pick their brains a little. “I didn't get much of an orientation to this job. What do you guys like besides grilled cheese and apple pie?”

“Are you kidding?” Bull said. “We'll eat anything.”

A short chuckle escaped me. “Somehow I doubt that. What about the style? Italian, French, Asian, Indian? Or strictly American?”

Bull seemed impressed. “You know how to cook all that stuff?”

“Some of it,” I admitted. “But with Internet access and a computer, I can find a recipe for just about anything.” I plated up the sandwiches and carried them over to the table. “All I need are the proper ingredients.”

I stopped short when I saw the pie. Or what was left of it. “Hmm…” Apparently all cowboys considered a fourth of a pie to be the standard serving. “Definitely need to make another pie.” I couldn't complain. After the way Grandpa picked at his food, watching food disappear was a welcome sight.

“I doubt it would go to waste,” Wyatt said.

I was standing right next to him, so when he stretched out his arm behind me, for a moment I thought he was going to wrap it around my hips and pull me in for a hug. I held my breath for a second or two, then blew it out, strangely disappointed when he lowered his hand.

“Guess I'd better get started on it then.” I turned and walked away.

Had he meant to hug me and stopped himself? Or was I imagining things? Dean would've done it. I was sure of that. Wyatt was different—not nearly as free with his attentions or affections. That wink was probably all I would ever get from him. Funny how it seemed to mean more than a kiss from Dean.

A sidelong glance caught him rubbing his right shoulder, then stretching his arm out again.

“Something wrong with your shoulder?” The words were out of my mouth before I even had time to think.