Rachel's Cowboy (8 page)

He’d lost Rachel once. Was he going to lose her again? Maybe he should hold back, not press her now. He didn’t know what to do. He was having trouble thinking clearly.

With a sigh, he pushed himself away from the counter and headed for his bedroom and a restless night.

R
ACHEL WOKE UP EARLY
the next morning. Her muscles ached once again, but she slid out of bed and immediately began stretching. At the same time, her mind was working over the events of the day before and her sister’s phone call.

Why hadn’t she realized she could return to Dallas and gain the weight she needed there, with her sisters? She was no longer sick and therefore had no reason to stay away from the mothers-to-be. Had Madge lied to her? Why?

She hated even thinking such a thing about Madge. The woman had been so kind to her, praising everything she did. No, Rachel couldn’t think that of Madge. Maybe she was afraid Rachel would go back to work too soon if she was in Dallas.

And that could be true.

Here, so far from the rush of life in the city, it was easy to think she had plenty of time. In Dallas, she would be reminded of the passing weeks, her lack of preparation for the future.

What should she do?

Finally, Rachel was stretched out enough to pull on her jeans and boots, along with a plaid shirt. She braided her hair down her back and put cream on her face. Then she went to the kitchen for breakfast.

“Good morning, Madge,” she said with a smile.

“Morning, Rachel. How do you feel this morning?”

“Pretty good, thanks to you.”

“Good. Have a seat. Your breakfast is ready.”

Rachel slid into a chair and Madge put a plateful of bacon, scrambled eggs and buttered toast before her.

“I can’t eat this much breakfast, Madge. You must’ve thought I was J.D.,” she said with a laugh.

“No, honey, but I didn’t want you to have any doubt about my wanting you to be fully recovered.” Madge looked at her and Rachel nodded.

“I did think that for a minute or two until I realized that if I went back to Dallas, I might give in to the pressure to go back to work before I should.” With a sigh, Rachel added, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. But I truly was thinking about what was best for you.”

“I know.” After she’d eaten all she could, Rachel pushed away the plate, still half-full. “I can’t eat anymore. Do you think J.D. will come in looking for more food?”

“Probably. That boy is a bottomless pit.”

There was a knock on the back door. With a frown, Madge crossed to the door. Then she opened it. “Billy? Is something wrong?”

“No, Miz Madge. J.D. sent me to give Miz Rachel her lesson.”

Madge led Billy into the kitchen. “Rachel, this is Billy. J.D. sent him to give you your lesson this morning.”

“How—how nice of you, Billy. Did J.D. have an emergency?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t think so. Are you ready?”

“Yes, of course.” After glancing at Madge and receiving a look of concern in return, Rachel preceded Billy out the door.

The next hour dragged by for her. The lesson lacked the excitement she’d felt when she’d been under J.D.’s eye. She missed him. Why had he sent Billy in his place? She still held hope that something important had come up, that he would be her tutor tomorrow.

When the session was over, she gave Billy a stiff
smile and turned to go back to the house. But he didn’t accept the dismissal. “J.D. instructed me to see you back to the house no matter what you said. He said you’d pretend not to be sore.”

“I see. That’s very nice of you, Billy.”

She refused his assistance, but he strode along beside her, watching her carefully. Which meant that Rachel couldn’t relax and limp to the house.

As soon as Billy left her at the door, she headed for the nearest chair. “Just kill me now, Madge, and put me out of my misery.”

“Worse than yesterday?” she asked, sympathy in her voice.

“Yes, much worse. Billy is nice, but…he has no sense of humor. He doesn’t tease me into believing I can do what I’m supposed to do. So I was tense with fear, which made the soreness that much worse.”

“Why don’t you go take a hot bath? I’ll bring in the liniment.”

“Wait. Yesterday you gave me chocolate cake. I think that helped.” She gave Madge her best smile.

Madge smiled back. “Coming right up,” she said as she took down the cake tin and cut a generous piece for Rachel. Then she poured a glass of milk and took it to her.

After she sat down at the table, Rachel paused and asked, “You haven’t heard from J.D.?”

Madge shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

Rachel finished off her cake without any more conversation. When she got up from the table, she muttered, “I’ll go run my bath.”

Madge called, “I’ll be right in.”

The rest of the day, both women waited for J.D. to make an appearance. But he didn’t come in to lunch. In fact, he didn’t show up for dinner on time. When he finally came in around eight, both Madge and Rachel were sure something had gone wrong.

“Are you all right?” Madge asked anxiously.

J.D. didn’t look at her. “I’m fine, Madge. Sorry I’m late.”

“What happened?” Rachel asked.

He glanced at her, then looked away. “What are you talking about?”

“We assumed something happened that kept you from giving me my lesson.”

“Didn’t Billy tell you nothing had happened?” he asked harshly.

“Yes, but—” Rachel stopped abruptly. “What did I do to make you act this way, J.D.?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sat down at the table. “Got any dinner left over for me, Madge?”

Rachel stood there, staring at his back. Then she said, “I’m going to bed, Madge. Good night.”

After her bedroom door had closed, Madge sat down with J.D. as he ate the plateful of dinner she put in front of him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Don’t you pull that innocent act on me, J.D. Stanley. Why did you duck out of Rachel’s lesson? After all, it was your idea.”

“I ‘ducked out’ as you put it, because I don’t intend to let that woman break my heart twice.”

The next week followed the same pattern. J.D. avoided Rachel at every turn. She went to bed early every night and he came in for dinner after she’d disappeared. He never showed up for her riding lesson, but made sure Billy was there every morning.

The cooking lessons also continued. Rachel was discovering a natural talent in the kitchen and on horseback, much to her pleasure.

“You know, Rachel, I’ve never seen anyone take to cooking like you have. I don’t have a lot left to teach you,” Madge told her toward the end of the week.

“Oh, Madge, I don’t think I could manage on my own. It’s because you give me so much confidence.”

“Why don’t we give you a test? Tonight you can cook dinner all by yourself.” Madge looked at her expectantly.

Rachel nodded. “I’ll be glad to try. And if I mess up too badly, you’ll have time to cook something else before J.D. dares to walk in the door.” She sounded bitter and she knew it, but the man was frustrating her. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong.

“Child, you mustn’t let J.D. upset you.”

Rachel shook her head. “I think I should go back to Dallas, so J.D. can return to his normal routine.”

“Just give him time to work things out. He’ll come around.”

Rachel didn’t want to talk about J.D. “What shall I cook tonight for dinner?”

“J.D.’s favorite—goulash.”

“Okay. Do we have all the ingredients, or do I need to go to Prairie View?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, it’s all here. I keep the basics in stock in case we can’t get to the store for a week or two.”

“Why would that happen?” Rachel asked, curious.

“Sometimes we have rainstorms that flood the roads or take down a bridge. And in the winter you never know what will happen.”

“I’m glad it’s not winter. I don’t think I could handle riding lessons in winter weather.”

“I’m glad they’re going well. Maybe I should tell J.D.— I think he’d like to know.”

“He could ask if he cared,” Rachel snapped. Then she apologized for her shrewish response.

“It’s all right. I understand.”

J.D.
CAME IN THAT NIGHT
after nine o’clock, even later than normal. He was tired. It had been a tough week.

When he sat down to eat, he was delighted to see there was goulash for dinner—a dinner he loved. “Thanks, Madge. I’ve had a hard day and this looks good.”

“You should be thanking Rachel. She made dinner
all by herself.” Madge stood there waiting for him to acknowledge what she’d said.

He took another bite and chewed deliberately. “It doesn’t quite have the taste yours does.”

Madge swatted him on the arm with a dish towel. “That’s not true, J.D. Stanley. She used my recipe and it tastes just the same.”

“Whatever you say,” he muttered.

“Has Billy told you how well Rachel is doing with her riding lessons?”

“No.” He didn’t explain that he watched from inside the barn every morning as Rachel was put through her paces. He knew exactly how well she was doing.

“She’s a natural.”

“Did Rachel bake any rolls for dinner?” he asked, ignoring her praise of their guest.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Madge exclaimed, and ran for the oven. She pulled out a pan of rolls golden-brown on top. “Oh, good, they didn’t burn.”

“Perfect,” J.D. said as he took one and buttered it.

“So you can praise the rolls because I baked them, but not the goulash because Rachel cooked it?”

With a sigh, J.D. said, “Everything’s good, Madge, okay?”

“Okay. There’s apple cobbler for dessert.”

“Great.”

“Aren’t you going to ask who made it?”

“No, I’m just going to enjoy it.”

There was no more conversation during his late dinner. When he finished the cobbler, scraping the bottom of his bowl, he carried his dishes to the sink.

“I’ll do the dishes, J.D. I know you’re tired. Go on and get ready for bed. You can deal with the mail in the morning. There wasn’t anything important.”

“Thanks, Madge,” he said, bending down to kiss her cheek. “Good night.”

Madge heaved a sigh of disappointment after J.D. left the kitchen. She’d had such high hopes when he’d first asked about bringing Rachel here. Things had been going well, until he heard Rachel express interest in returning home as soon as she could. That had convinced him she was going to leave him again.

Madge didn’t know what had happened last time Rachel had been there, but she could guess.

It appeared this time would be no different.

“D
ID
J.D.
SAY ANYTHING
about my goulash?” Rachel asked the next morning.

“He said it was good. And he scraped the bowl of his dessert.”

“You’re avoiding my gaze, Madge. I can tell he couldn’t care less about my cooking.” Rachel sighed. “I still think I should leave so he won’t work such long hours to avoid me.”

“No, Rachel, don’t go yet. The work has to be done, anyway. He’ll come around.”

“You keep saying that, Madge, but he is one stubborn man. And I still don’t know what I did wrong.” Rachel took her breakfast dishes to the sink to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher.

Madge was folding clothes that had just come out of the dryer.

When the phone rang, Rachel was closest to it. “Hello?”

“Madge? I need you to take Ronnie to the doctor this morning. Can you do that?”

It was J.D.’s voice and Rachel knew he wouldn’t want to talk to her. “Just a minute.”

She repeated his message to Madge and she jumped up to take the phone. “J.D.? What’s wrong with Ronnie?”

“He’s vomiting and running a high fever.”

“Sounds like the flu that’s going around. I’ll be down there in about five minutes.” Madge hung up the phone and turned to Rachel.

“If it’s the flu, as I suspect, probably half the bunkhouse will come down with it. I’ve got to take Ronnie to the doctor in Abilene. I’ll be gone until lunch. Can you handle things here for me?”

“Sure,” Rachel said calmly.

“Thanks so much, Rachel. It’s such a relief to have you here to back me up.”

She smiled. “The only reason I can is because you’re a good teacher, Madge. Be careful,” she added as the housekeeper pulled on a sweater over her short-sleeved shirt and grabbed her purse.

Rachel took her lesson with Billy, riding outside the corral for the first time. She loved it.

Then she hurried back to the house. First, she put a load of clothes into the washer, then she got out the recipe for carrot cake and followed it exactly.

About the time she got the cake out of the oven, the washer finished and she put her clothes in the dryer.

Then the phone rang.

“Hello?” she said again.

“Is Madge back from the doctor?”

“No, she’s not. Can I help you?”

“Uh, I’m the cook at the bunkhouse and I got three guys down. They’re throwing up a lot and I think they’re dehydrating. And I don’t feel so good myself.”

“All right. I—I’ll try to get hold of Madge.”

Rachel disconnected immediately and dialed Madge’s cell phone. She filled her in on what was happening at the bunkhouse, and Madge gave her the bad news.

“It’s the flu, a severe strain. I’m going to get supplies now. I’ll buy lots of Gatorade and some of those masks for us to wear. Don’t go down there, Rachel. I don’t want you to get sick, too.”

“But, Madge—”

“Don’t go down there.”

“All right, I won’t. How do I call the bunkhouse?”

Madge gave her the number. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half, I promise.”

“Okay.”

Rachel hung up the phone and searched in Madge’s large pantry. She thought she’d seen some Gatorade in there. She found two big containers of it, and called the bunkhouse to arrange for someone to come pick them up.

A couple of minutes later, when one of the men knocked on the back door, Rachel gave him the bottles and some paper cups. “Tell them to try to drink it. We don’t want them to get dehydrated.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How many men are well?”

“Uh, I guess six of us and Cook.”

“Hmm, I don’t think you should count on Cook. We’ll figure out something for dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and went off with the Gatorade.

By the time Madge got home, Rachel had worked out some plans. “Madge, we should keep the men separated. If we have six well ones, do we have a place they can stay?”

“We have three extra bedrooms here. They could double up. With the cook down, we’ll need to fix supper for everyone. I’ll make a big pot of vegetable soup for the sick ones. They might be able to eat that.”

“And I can triple the recipe for goulash and make it again tonight for the rest.”

“Can you handle dinner here, if I go to the bunkhouse?” Madge asked worriedly.

“Yes, of course. Someone will have to tell J.D. and the others so they won’t go into the sickroom.”

“You’re right.” Madge crossed the room to the walkie-talkie and picked it up. “J.D., this is base. Come in, please.”

“Yeah, Madge. What is it?”

“The flu. We’ve got three men sick in the bunkhouse, and Cook doesn’t feel well. Have the six well men come here to eat and sleep. It’s the only way to avoid everyone going down.”

J.D. groaned. “Okay, we’ll be in by seven. It’s clouding up out here and we’re not going to be able to see much past that.”

“We’ll have dinner on the table waiting.”

Madge replaced the walkie-talkie and took out a large stock pot.

“Madge?”

“Yes, Rachel?” Madge asked as she began to gather the ingredients for her vegetable soup.

“Why did you tell J.D.
we
would serve dinner here?”

“I wasn’t trying to mislead him. If I’m not back from the sickroom, you’ll serve it by yourself, but I expect I’ll be back. Those men don’t like women in their bunkhouse.”

Rachel knew if she was sick, she’d want Madge taking care of her. But she wasn’t going to argue. Instead, she asked where clean sheets were stored so she could start making up the beds the men would need.

Madge wanted her to wait until she could help her, as soon as she got the soup started, but gave directions for finding the sheets and the bedrooms they would use.

“If necessary, I can give up my room and share yours,” Rachel offered.

“No, we have three more bedrooms. This house was built for a big family.”

“It’s a wonderful house,” Rachel said over her shoulder as she set off to prepare the rooms.

Madge caught up with her in the third bedroom. “How are you doing?”

“Fine. The bathrooms will need more towels. I didn’t know what to do about that.”

“I have some stored away. I’ll get them and put them in the baths.”

Rachel finished making the queen-size bed and gave
a sigh. She enjoyed doing housework. Unfortunately, there was no money in that.

She went back to the kitchen. Already, the soup was giving off a delicious smell.

“What else do we need to do?” she asked Madge.

“Well, I’m going to go work in the barn for a couple of hours.”

“Doing what?”

“The men who were left behind were supposed to feed the animals in both barns and clean out the stalls. I won’t be able to get all of it done, but I can start.”

“I’ll come help. You’ll get twice as much done.”

“Oh, no, Rachel, that’s too hard a job for you. Besides, you have to cook dinner tonight.”

“Madge, it’s one o’clock. Let’s have a quick lunch, then we can work until five. By then you’ll need to take the soup down to the bunkhouse, and I can start dinner.”

“Are you sure?”

Rachel couldn’t resist hugging her. “I’m sure.”

After eating sandwiches, they went out to the barn. A quick learner, Rachel followed in Madge’s footsteps, feeding the animals and cleaning each stall on her side of the barn. Scooping up manure and loading it into a wheelbarrow was a new skill, but she worked hard.

Madge dragged down a bale of hay and cut the wires so they could spread fresh hay, too.

They finished the first barn by three-thirty. They raced to the second. Rachel figured it wouldn’t take as long this time, because she now knew what to do. They hurried through their work and finished right at five o’clock.

“Rachel, you worked like a demon! I am so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Madge. Let’s hurry home. I want to grab a quick shower before I start cooking.”

Madge grinned. “I figured you would.”

As the two women rushed back to the house, Madge kept throwing glances over her shoulders.

“What are you looking at?” Rachel asked.

“J.D. said something about it getting dark early. I think he meant those rain clouds. We may have a gully-washer tonight.”

“Gully-washer?”

“A big rainstorm that fills up the gullies, making them run like creeks.”

“Oh, my. That kind of rain must be a problem.”

“Can be.”

They each hit the showers, and ten minutes later Rachel was preparing dinner and Madge was carrying the big pot of vegetable soup to the bunkhouse. She’d given Ronnie several big containers of Gatorade when he went back to the bunkhouse to go to bed earlier.

Now she carried Tylenol in her pocket for everyone to keep their temperatures under control. She’d put the rolls in a plastic sack that dangled from one wrist as she gripped the soup pot. She’d already tied on a face mask, hoping to not catch the flu herself.

Rachel, meanwhile, made dinner and set the table for seven people—J.D. and his men. She figured she’d eat before they came in, and Madge, too, if she got back that soon.

Exactly at seven, as she put one of the casserole
dishes on the table, the back door opened and she heard J.D. ordering his men to wash up at the sink.

When he entered, she asked him at once what she should serve the men to drink.

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Where’s Madge?”

“She’s still down at the bunkhouse tending to the sick men.”

“She shouldn’t be doing that,” J.D. muttered. He circled Rachel and made a direct path to the phone.

Rachel greeted the other men and got them settled. She didn’t hear any of J.D.’s conversation until she started pouring tea beside him.

“Fine!” he yelled, and slammed down the phone.