Tina Leonard - Triplets' Rodeo Man (2 page)

“You have a lot to live for.”

“Oh, hell. You're a religious person, Cricket. You're supposed to spout that kind of nonsense. A man lives to
do.
”

“So?” Cricket demanded. “What's your point?”

“My point is that I'm not taking Jack's kidney just so I can spend a few more years on this earth!” Josiah bellowed. “What good would it do me if he got bucked off and stomped? Do you know how often cowboys get stomped?”

“Perhaps some protective gear—”

“Bah!” Josiah tossed off his covers impatiently. “Have them turn down the heat in here, Cricket. It's nearly April. Why do they have the heat so high? I'm not some sissy old man who can't make my own body heat! By heaven, I'm not a corpse yet.”

She smiled. “It is a bit warm in here.”

“Hey, Deacon,” Josiah said. “Sneak me out of this joint.”

Her eyes went wide. “I can't do that. Why didn't you ask Jack to? He's the rebel, isn't he?”

“Oh, he wouldn't do it. He's Mr. Giving-My-Kidney-to-Make-Pop-Feel-Guilty.” Josiah sniffed, obviously upset.

“Josiah,” Cricket said, “we'd all like to see you gracing the earth awhile longer.”

“Oh?” His brows beetled, white and thick on his strong forehead. “Who are
we?
”

“Me, for one.”

“Well, that's one.”

“Okay,” Cricket said. “What would make you feel like you have a reason to live? An important enough mission to keep your boots planted firmly on the earth, so that you can be a gracious recipient of the gift your son is trying to give you?”

He glowered at her. “I'll tell you, Deacon,” Josiah said. “Find a good woman with children who needs a husband and somehow convince her and Jack to get hitched. That would be worth hanging around to see.”

Cricket swallowed. “A woman with children?”

He nodded. “There's no reason to leave young children without a father when we have plenty of resources in the Morgan family. If you have a magic wand, wave it and make it snappy, say, in the next twenty-four hours, before they bring in that infernal kidney I'm getting. Grandchildren are what old horses like me live to see.”

“Josiah,” Cricket said faintly, “you're asking for a miracle, not a magic wand.”

“Don't you do miracles? Isn't that your thing?”

She paused. “Certainly I believe in them, but Jack hasn't been…I mean, I know nothing of his personal life. He could already have a girlfriend.”

“That would make your job easy.”

“If she had children already,” Cricket reminded him. “Just getting him to the altar would be incredibly difficult, but fixing him up with a single mother who would suit him is likely beyond impossible.” Cricket tried to ignore her own racing heartbeat. There was no way she could honestly match make for Jack Morgan—not with the way her heart jumped every time she saw him. Ever since January, when she'd seen him in the bull-riding ring at the rodeo, she'd known she had the man in her sights who could undo everything rational she thought about men and marriage. A rodeo cowboy could never be the perfect man for her, and yet, her heart was drawn to the devil-may-care in him. “I can't do it, Josiah. It's not my place to do so.”

“Hell's bells,” Josiah complained. “A family would settle my son down, and that would be best for everyone.”

“What if he met a woman he fell in love with and then made a family? Wouldn't that be better?”

“No,” Josiah said stubbornly. “Because Jack will never marry unless he has to. It's kind of like visiting his old man—it's costing him a kidney. Whatever woman catches him is going to have to rope, drag and throw my son to the altar, and he'll yowl like he's trussed on a Fourth of July grill.”

That was probably prescient. And she didn't want Jack “yowling” if she was the one tying him down—what woman wanted to catch her man that way? “I'll just finish the drapes for your house that you've been wanting, which Suzy and Priscilla and I promised you months ago. How about that? Wouldn't new drapes give you a reason to come home healthy?”

He shook his head. “That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You are no good at negotiating, Cricket Jasper, particularly as I know you have a thing for my son. However, you'll never catch him if you're planning on wrapping yourself in drapes like Scarlett O'Hara, my girl. No, to catch Jack, you'll have to be willing to lay body and soul on the line. He's not exactly the curtains type, more like cots and coyotes, if you get my drift.”

Cricket did, indeed, get Josiah's drift, and considered herself well warned.

Jack hesitated outside his father's door, realizing he was the topic of conversation between the pretty deacon and his father. He heard his father sneakily trying to get Cricket to romance him; he heard Cricket backing away from the idea and offering up her services as Martha Stewart instead. Part of Jack wanted to snicker at his father's failed attempt at matchmaking, the other part of him was seriously annoyed Pop couldn't just give the whole family-expansion thing a rest. But that was typical of the old man. He couldn't be happy knowing he had a chance to get well. It had to be the family and kids and happily-ever-after for Pop—as if Jack and his brother's had ever had that for one single day in their lives.

Thankfully, the good deacon was too angelic for Jack—and too crafty for Pop. Still, it shocked him that Pop thought the deacon had the hots for him. Then again, Pop was entitled to a delusion or two.

“Josiah, I'll play cards with you, but only if you quit sipping out of that bottle,” Jack heard Cricket say.
“Because if you don't quit, you'll be too relaxed to tell Jack that you don't want his silly old kidney.”

Jack leaned close to the door, amused by Cricket's coddling.

“I hadn't thought of that,” Josiah said.

“And the liquor will skew the blood tests,” Cricket said practically. “It will mess up your medication, and the next thing you know, you'll be at Jack's mercy.”

“You have a point.” There was silence for a long while. “I do not want to be at anyone's mercy.”

“Of course you don't. Who does?”

“Not me, durn it. Toss this bottle into your purse and take it home to the ranch for me, would you? Store it in my liquor cabinet.”

“I will. It'll be waiting safe and sound for your return.”

“And when will that be? C'mon, Deacon, I want you to spring me from this place.”

“Aren't you happy here? You seem to be getting plenty of attention from the ladies,” Cricket said, her tone soothing.

“My heart is already taken,” Josiah said. “Anyway, I was hunting for a girl for Jack.”

“When I saw him ride in January, there was a rumor going around that your son has all the female attention he wants,” Cricket said. “Let's just focus on you.”

“Was he any good at rodeo?” Josiah asked. “I've never seen him ride.”

“He was average,” Cricket said.

Jack straightened. Average! That day he'd placed first with his highest score, the best ride he'd ever had.

“Oh,” Josiah said. “I was kind of hoping he was good at the one thing he's chased all his life.”

“Well,” Cricket said, “some men are late bloomers.”

Jack blinked. The woman was crazy! She didn't know what she was talking about. He hadn't been a late bloomer at anything.

“Later on, Jack mentioned he was considering giving up rodeo,” Cricket said, her tone serene. “Let me see…what did he say he was going to do?” Jack strained, listening to the deacon spin her incredible yarn.

“Oh,” Cricket said, “I remember. He said he'd decided to go into ranching. And do a little math tutoring at the high school. Did you know he got a college degree by correspondence course?”

“He did?” Josiah demanded.

I did?
Jack mouthed.

“Yes,” Cricket said. “From what I could tell, he's very smart and a huge believer in education.”

“That makes me very happy,” Josiah said. “I wish I'd known all this so that I could have told him how proud I am when he was visiting me. I didn't have a chance,” he said sadly. “We always seem to get into a fight right off the bat.”

“Oh,” Cricket said, “Fathers and eldest sons do that.”

“They do?” Josiah said.

“Sure. And eldest daughters sometimes scrabble with their mothers. I argued a time or two with mine. And my brother.” Jack heard cards being shuffled. “Anyway, you can tell him how proud you are tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Josiah said, sounding happy. “I can. And you know, if he really wants to go into ranching, his brothers have started a new breeding business between them. They'd probably really appreciate the help. Heavens knows I've got the land. In fact,” he said, lowering his voice so that Jack had to really bend an ear to hear, “it's time for me to rewrite my will.”

“Oh, dear,” Cricket said, “let's play Twenty-one and not think about wills, Josiah.”

“Are preachers supposed to know how to play cards?” Josiah demanded.

“It's either this or dice. Pick your poison, sir.” Jack heard the sound of cards being slapped down on a table.

“I'm going to have to divide up the ranch, you know,” Josiah said. “Last month I realized I was going to have to leave Jack out. But maybe I've just misunderstood him.”

“Most likely,” Cricket said.

Jack frowned. Why was the deacon cozying up to his father on his behalf? She wasn't very honest for a cleric—she was a pretty face who told outrageous fibs. Too bad she was such a storytelling wench; she'd almost had him believing all that sweetness she was peddling. Almost. But now he knew Cricket was a woman who would say anything to get what she wanted.

He wasn't sure what Cricket wanted, but he'd know soon enough. Everybody had a price. Except him, of course.

She came out the door suddenly and squashed his toe
on purpose. “That's what you get for eavesdropping,” she whispered. “You're going to have to think fast to keep up with your old man, cowboy. Let's see if you can do that, okay?”

Then she popped him on the arm like he was no more than a baseball-playing buddy, tossed her enormous handbag over her shoulder—Pop could have fit a case of whiskey in that thing—and headed off, looking remarkably like a tall, but still cute Audrey Hepburn.

Jack stared after her. That was one pain-in-the-well-worn-butt woman. And unfortunately, she had the asset Jack most appreciated on a female—a very sassy derriere.

Somehow that was even more annoying.

 

J
OSIAH LEFT
the hospital that night. Jack wasn't really surprised when he got the call. He would have done the same. Jack figured if anybody was like him, it was the old man. Pop wasn't going to be a burden, and like his sons, he knew how to hit the escape hatch.

It was up to him to fetch his father. This wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world because Pop didn't want his life extended by taking something from Jack. Pop would consider this gesture sacrilegious, wasteful and downright wrong.

He couldn't blame his father. Since they hadn't spoken in over ten years, Josiah had every right to his feelings. It was bad luck that only Jack was the perfect donor match, which he'd found out after being tested—something he did only after Laura, Gabe's nurse wife, left a message for him at a local rodeo that they were
running out of options with Pop. It had been a warning, not a solicitation for help. Still, Jack had felt a curiosity and an obligation to find out if he was an eligible donor. Quietly, he'd had the testing done—and bad luck as always, the prodigal son was the “perfect” match. It was the only time in his life he could remember someone using the word
perfect
to describe something about him.

He was going to have to go find Pop, somehow reel him in to the hospital. Cricket had been right—he was going to have to think hard to keep up with the old man. Pop was sharp from years of business dealings—he was focused, determined and ornery. Fortunately, Jack knew something about determination.

He'd find him. Somehow, he'd drag him back.

 

C
RICKET WENT
to the Morgan ranch, pulling into the driveway in her old Volkswagen that had served her well for many years. The sight of the ranch and the large house that graced the property, out in the middle of nowhere, never failed to take her breath away. She parked, shut off her car, grabbed her tape measure and notepad. A promise was a promise. If Josiah Morgan was going to be on a first-name basis with the angels—unless he accepted his son's kidney, and if the operation and match was a success—she was determined he would come home to a pleasant-looking house.

No one answered her knock at the front door. Cricket decided she could call either Laura, Suzy or Priscilla and ask them to come let her in…or perhaps she could
find an open door. If one of the Morgan men were here today working somewhere on the ranch, it was possible they'd left a door unlocked. They wouldn't mind her slipping in to measure, particularly as she'd mentioned her plans to Josiah.

She turned the knob.

Sure enough, it was unlocked. That meant one of the Morgans was nearby, so she carefully slid the door open and called, “Hello! It's Cricket Jasper!”

She waited for a “Hello, Deacon!” or something to that effect, but no one answered. Closing the door behind her, she walked into the hallway. “Hello! Gabe? Dane? Pete?”

All the brothers had moved into houses with their brides, leaving the ranch house to Josiah. Pete was the most recent to move, needing private space for his four new babies and wife. He and Priscilla had bought a house only a few miles down the road once the adoption was final, and Cricket was pretty certain Josiah had been crushed by the departure of the babies. “Anybody home?” she called.

Jack appeared in the hall like a ghost. “Hey, Cricket.”

He startled her into the fastest heartbeat she'd ever experienced. “You scared me, Jack!”

He grinned at her. “I can't exactly claim that I'm home, to answer your question. But I'm here.” He looked around, his gaze returning to the flat stare he almost always wore.

“So what are you doing here?” Cricket demanded, her heartbeat still jumping around.

“What are
you
doing here?”

“Measuring for drapes.” Cricket slid past Jack, keeping an eye on him. After Josiah's warning about his son, Cricket had decided her unhealthy crush was something she needed to put away. The man was sexy, but as a deacon she had no business mooning after a hunk who had not one good side but two bad. “If you'll excuse me, I'll just measure, draw some sketches and go.”

He caught her arm as she went by. Cricket jumped, snatched her arm back.

“Hey,” he said, “I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.”

“No,” Cricket said. “We're fine. Let's not trouble ourselves about anything except getting your father well.”

Jack looked at her, his gaze direct, sending a shiver over her. “I heard you telling a bunch of fibs to my father last night.”

She shrugged, clearly not remorseful. “So? Is it wrong to want him to be happy? Is it sinful to put him in a happy frame of mind before he has major surgery?”

He eyed her. “A fibbing deacon.”

She raised her chin. “Never you mind what's between me and the Lord, cowboy.”

He grinned. “Your conscience is your own, my lady.”

“Good.” She started to turn away, but there was that hand again, holding her too close to him. She wished she didn't feel an unsettling sizzle everywhere he touched her. This time, she stood firm, refusing to allow him to unsettle her.

“And while we're examining your unusual conscience,” Jack said. “You wouldn't help my father escape, would you, Deacon?”