Only Hers (5 page)

Shannon wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. Matt looked like the type of man who was seldom wrong. He’d make a loyal friend or a bitter enemy.

She studied him a long time, measuring the man against his words and knew he’d keep his word, he’d wait until she was stronger. Then watch out. Opening the front door of the car, she drew out the quilt.

They both were silent as they reentered the house and walked up the stairs. Opening the last door on the right side of the wide hallway, he flipped on the light, then set her cases down. “Bathroom through that door. Sleep as long as you like.” He turned to leave.

“Mr. Taggart?”

Knob in hand, he glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Thank you, but I still think my staying here is a mistake.”

“Won’t be the first for either of us, now will it.” The door closed.

Clutching the quilt closer to her chest, Shannon sagged on the bed. “No, it won’t be my first, but something tells me it might be my worst.”

The blinding rays of the sun on Shannon’s face snatched her from sleep. Panic seized her. She had to be on the floor at 6:45 A.M. Throwing off the quilt, she jumped from bed. Halfway across the room the sight of a double dresser instead of an armoire stopped her in midstride.

Slowly, then with increasing speed she remembered where she was and why. If she didn’t get herself together, there would be no job to be late for ever again.

The prospect of leaving nursing and becoming a wife to James would please him and her parents, but not her, and certainly not her grandfather if he were alive. He was the only one in the family who encouraged her to pursue a career in nursing instead of going to law school.

When she held firm in her decision to become a nurse after graduating from high school, her family had urged her to attend medical school instead. If she was set on the medical profession then aim for a specialist. She had expected as much from her authoritarian parents yet they only wanted what they thought was best for her.

Yet, even after obtaining her degree in nursing her parents still harbored the hope that she might eventually go to law school and join the family practice. She had the brains and the tenacity; they thought hardness could be developed. She knew differently. She just didn’t have the toughness she saw in James, her parents, and her brothers. They delighted in stirring things up and going for the jugular vein; she liked to soothe and comfort.

Or at least she had until she met Matt Taggart. Well, perhaps today would be different.

Looking around the room, she saw her suitcase. After Matt had left last night she had showered, then fallen into bed. She was asleep by the time her head hit the pillow. Opening the case, she picked up a pair of white shorts only to put them back, instead choosing slacks and a turquoise blouse. There was no sense tempting trouble. After she was dressed, she’d find Matt, thank him, then drive into town and get a room.

Not finding anyone downstairs, she set her luggage by the front door and went into the kitchen. A woman sat at the table, her face hidden by an open paperback. Its cover in vivid hues of mauve and gold showed a man and a woman in passionate embrace.

“Good afternoon.”

The book jerked. Octavia, her eyes wide, appeared around the side. Scrambling up from the chair, she quickly
put a dish towel on top of the book. “Ah, good afternoon, Miss Johnson.”

Letting the swinging door close behind her, Shannon smiled and walked farther into the room. “Please call me Shannon. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you were so engrossed in your book.”

The housekeeper tucked her head in obvious embarrassment.

“From the cover it looked good. One of the things I missed most when working long hours was not being able to curl up with a good romance book.”

Astonishment lifted Octavia’s head and widened her brown eyes. “You read them, too?”

“Used to. Every chance I got.”

A wide grin spread across the older woman’s charcoal face. “I knew there was something about you that I liked the second I saw you.” Still smiling, she opened the refrigerator door and took out a plate of fried chicken and potato salad. “It’s almost one. You must be starved. Sit down and eat.”

“I really must be going,” Shannon said, but her eyes were on the golden-brown chicken.

“Can’t,” Octavia announced, and set a glass of iced tea beside the place setting for one. “Matt said for you to wait until he got back. Usually once he eats breakfast I don’t see him until late in the evening, but today he’s been back twice to see if you were awake.”

“Why didn’t he have you wake me up?” Shannon asked. “I don’t remember the last time I slept this late. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Octavia chuckled, a deep sound that shook her heavy body. “That may be, but he almost took my head off when he came back the last time around twelve and found me vacuuming. Told me to stop making so much noise because you needed your sleep.”

Uncomfortable and oddly pleased, Shannon addressed the one safe issue. “I’m sorry I interrupted your cleaning.”

“Don’t be. As you can see, I made good use of the time. Anyway, having you in the house is good for Matt. Makes him remember his manners. Does my heart good to see that woman didn’t kill all of his protective instinct toward females.” Octavia pointed toward the ladder-back chair. “Now sit down and eat, so we can discuss books.”

Shannon sat and half listened to the housekeeper discuss her favorite romance novels, but what Shannon really wanted to discuss was who “that woman” was and what had she done to Matt.

Two hours later Shannon sat on the bank of a stock pond beneath the shade of a willow tree with a book dangling from her fingertips. A yard from her canvas-covered feet lay the end of her cane fishing pole, the red-and-white plastic cork barely moving in the tranquil water. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as peaceful.

She would have preferred going in search of Wade’s lawyer rather than dealing with the unsettling task of meeting Matt again. She was, if only temporarily, going to take his land away from him. And he was going to fight her with everything within him.

Peace was what she had come for and that was exactly what she had yet to obtain. Instead of leaving as she’d wanted, she’d let Octavia bamboozle her into going fishing.

After lunch and still no Matt, the housekeeper had thwarted all plans of Shannon leaving. Before she knew how it happened, the jovial Octavia had thrown some chocolate-chip cookies, a thermos of lemonade, and a paperback into a canvas tote, then led her outside. Several fishing poles leaned neatly beneath the overhang of the white house.

“Pick one.”

When Shannon simply stared at the housekeeper, the older woman snatched the one nearest her, then shoved
the eight-foot-long pole and a plastic bag of bait into Shannon’s hand and pointed toward a clump of trees twenty-five yards away.

“Fishing is the best remedy for what ails you,” Octavia said before she disappeared into the house. The banging of the screen door jarred Shannon out of her passivity.

She had reached the steps before she realized the woman was only being kind. More than once during their conversation Shannon had drifted into her own thoughts. Perhaps fishing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Finding a shady spot, Shannon had baited her hook and prepared to do something she had never done in summer camp: catch a fish. However, the fish weren’t cooperating. She picked up her book, then decided she’d rather just enjoy the countryside.

The meadow might have been Wade’s favorite place, but the entire ranch, with its budding green grass, wide-limbed trees and scattering of rainbow-hued flowers, was just as peaceful. As long as Matt wasn’t nearby.

Shannon winced at her unfair thought. The man was only trying to protect his heritage. In a way, she respected him for his tenacity, but not his attitude. If he’d stop being so judgmental, perhaps she could reassure him.

The fishing line moved so only the top half of the white cork showed. The cork dipped once, twice. Instantly Shannon forgot about her reluctant partner. Excitement bubbled within her as she scrambled to pick up the fishing pole. The cork disappeared completely beneath the water’s surface. Two-handed, she jerked with all her strength. Line, cork, and fish came out of the water.

The fish kept going.

She sighed deeply. Even fishing as a child she had always pulled too hard. Usually the hook detached itself from the fish’s mouth before it left the water. At least this time it had held long enough for her to finally get a fish on the bank. Dropping the pole, she went in search of her catch.

Several feet away in the grassy area, a grayish-brown
bird with a black-striped chest flew into the air only to land again, walk a few feet, then fall flat on the ground making pitiful sounds. Shannon rushed toward the bird to help, but it got up dragging both wings on the ground.

Moving cautiously, she approached slower. Yet, again the bird moved farther away, gasped, then rolled over as if in terrible agony. Shannon saw a red spot.

“Oh, goodness. You’re bleeding.” She took another step. “Easy now. I won’t harm you.”

Out of nowhere another bird flew over Shannon’s head screaming protest. She glanced at the bird in the air, then back at the bird on the ground. “I won’t hurt your mate, but he or she needs help.”

“It’s a she and she’s no more hurt than I am.”

Shannon swung around. Matt, wearing a blue plaid shirt and jeans, stood a few feet away. He looked tall, handsome, intimidating. Her throat dried. No man should affect a woman that way. “I saw blood.”

“What you saw was her rump. She’s trying to lure you away from her nest.” He inclined his black Stetson toward the squawking bird flying above them. “The male is getting into the act, too. Killdeer can put on quite an act when it comes to protecting their nest or their young.”

“I certainly feel like an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t. Not many people care enough to try and help an injured bird, especially after the male gets into the act.” He gave her a long, level look. “Were you that concerned and attentive with Wade while he was your patient?”

“I tried to be,” she said softly, hoping this could be the turning point in their relationship. “Patients in ICCU often need healing in spirit as much as in body. Wade was an exception. It didn’t matter that he was seventy-five years old with internal injuries and two broken legs from his automobile accident, he never doubted he’d walk out of the hospital and come home to the ranch.”

The corner of Matt’s mouth lifted in a fleeting attempt at smiling. “The physical therapist said she never had
seen anyone more determined to not only walk, but run. He never did manage to run, but he could do a mean skip and a hop with his cane.”

“He told me he let his horse Paintbrush do the running for him.”

“He did. Every morning the two of them would head out and usually end up at the meadow.” Matt shook his head. “No matter how I objected about him going alone, he went anyway. Turned up his nose if I mentioned me or one of the hands driving him.”

“Why did you want someone with him?”

“Glaucoma,” Matt answered succinctly. “Doctors found out early last year, but it was too late to be treated. Got so bad Wade could barely see his hand in front of his face. I understood riding Paintbrush gave him back his independence, but it was too dangerous for Wade to wander over a thousand acres by himself.”

“Knowing that, you let him go anyway?” Shannon asked in disbelief.

“I had to.”

“But—”

“Taking away Paintbrush or not helping Wade find his way to the barn would have been the easy way out for me, but not for Wade. He would have felt helpless, less than a man.” Matt tugged on his hat. “So I hired someone to watch him from a distance. I couldn’t take his pride away from him. He had lost too much already.”

A wave of sorrow and regret swept through Shannon. One of the most heart-wrenching decisions a family member had to make was knowing when to set your own wants aside and do what the patient needed. “You did what was right.”

“Yeah.”

The one clipped word from Matt told her he didn’t think it had been enough. She knew exactly how he felt. All her specialized training hadn’t helped her grandfather. Her hand fisted to keep from placing it on Matt’s tense
shoulders and comforting him. “In all the times we talked, he never mentioned his failing vision.”

“Wade wasn’t the type to lay his problems on someone else; he was more apt to take on another person’s problems. He never complained about the hand life dealt him. Only said that a man ought to be willing to take the bad times with the good.” Matt glanced away, his voice gruff. “He was a hell of a man.”

“Yes, just like Granddaddy,” she mumbled. Her throat tight, she turned away and almost stepped on her escaped, gasping perch. Carefully, she picked up the foot-long fish and carried it back to the bank. Slipping the fish into the water, she picked up the fishing pole and the rest of her things, then started back to the house.

“He was a keeper. Why did you throw him back?”

She kept walking. “Life is precious in any form.”

“That didn’t stop you from eating that beef last night.”

So the truce was over. “I didn’t have to see it before it died.”

“So it’s all right as long as you don’t have to dirty your own hands,” Matt said, catching up with her. “I’m surprised you didn’t send someone else to claim my land.”

The unfairness of his taunt swung her around. The rebuttal sprang to her lips, but somehow she managed to swallow the words. “People in St. Louis consider me a nice, decent person. Why can’t you?”

“Try taking one hundred acres of prime grazing land or, in your case, riverfront property, from one of them and see how long that opinion lasts.”

He was right. Again. Her shoulders slumped. “Can’t you understand? I had to come.”

A callused thumb kicked his Stetson back on his head. “How could I have forgotten? As I said, it’s your own personal sleep aid.”

Shannon resisted the urge to bop him on the head with the canvas bag in her hand. “You are making it very difficult for me to like you.”