The Cowboy's Healing Ways

Jesse’s grandmother looked closely at her. “I’m knocking on the door of eighty-five and I know a good girl when I see one. You’ve had a few setbacks, but I see goodness in your eyes.”

“I’m not going to argue because I won’t win.” Jesse walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

Behind him his grandmother and Laura White were having a discussion about Laura staying. He knew how this would go. He squirted dish soap in his palm, lathered up and rinsed under the hot tap water. The towel hanging over the door of the cabinet was damp. He found a clean one in the drawer.

“Is there a hotel in Dawson?” Laura asked as he turned back around. His grandmother shot him a look.

Jesse shook his head. “Nope.”

She started to stand but wobbled, and he caught hold of her arm. He eased her back on the stool and placed his wrist on the back of her neck. Her fever had spiked. He grabbed the thermometer out of his bag and pushed the thick strands of auburn hair behind her ear to slide the thermometer in. She closed her eyes, opening them when he moved his hand and withdrew the thermometer.

He shook his head. “You need to be in bed.”

His grandmother smiled big because she knew she’d won the argument. He had to smile, too, because his granny Myrna loved a new project and he could tell she didn’t plan on letting this one slip out the door. His grandmother was dead set on fixing the person who had crashed into her life.

“Let me get the spare room ready and then you can help her upstairs.”

“Sure thing, Gran.” He watched his grandmother, still spry in her eighties, hurry out of the kitchen. He heard her singing as she headed upstairs to ready the guestroom.

“I really can go.”

“No, you’ll stay. Your car is being towed to the garage. Besides, my grandmother is a determined lady.” He helped her up. “But don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her. I just wanted to get to my aunt’s house tonight.”

“I take it you’re not close to your aunt.”

“We lost contact after my father died.”

He held her steady and they walked through the living room to the stairs. “And you decided to visit tonight?”

She sighed, stopping at the foot of the stairs.

“There was a rift when my mother remarried. I thought maybe if I came here...” She shrugged. “I need a place to start over. I need a job and a place to live.”

“Dawson is a good place to start over, but there aren’t too many jobs.”

She shivered in his arms and he pulled the afghan closer around her shoulders. Years ago he would have loved having a woman like her in his arms. He had to admit, it still wasn’t the worst feeling in the world.

These days he leaned toward caution because he had learned the hard way that people in a relationship weren’t always feeling the same thing. Some people fell hard and fast while the other person sometimes didn’t fall at all.

They started up the stairs, making it halfway before she paused to rest, a weak kitten, holding the rail.

“Are you going to make it?” He touched her back, holding her steady.

“Of course.” She wavered again, turned to look at him and then down she went. Jesse scooped her in his arms, carrying her up the remaining stairs and down the hall to the door where his grandmother waited.

“Is she okay?”

“She will be. I think it would help if we got some food in her.” She was light in his arms.

“I’ll go heat up a can of soup.” His grandmother pulled back the blankets and he placed her guest in the bed, backing away to let his grandmother continue fussing.

“I’ll make the soup.” He kissed his grandmother’s cheek. “You get her settled.”

Jesse walked down the stairs and back to the kitchen where he found Laura White’s purse still hanging on the stool. He picked up the leather bag with frayed seams and thought about snooping. After a minute he listened to his better self and set the bag down on the counter.

He wouldn’t snoop, but he’d stay and make sure his grandmother remained safe. And he’d make sure Laura White recovered.

After that, he’d let his grandmother take over. She was good with projects. His plate, however, was pretty full.

Chapter Two

Morning sun soaked the room in bright light and warmth. The rain had ended. Laura stretched in the softest bed she had ever slept in, but her relief didn’t last. Her head ached and she felt as if lead weights had been placed in her arms and legs. She rolled over and squinted to look at the clock.

She was in Myrna Cooper’s home. She had made it to Dawson. But now what? She had nowhere to go. She had no money and no real friends.

Dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the day before, she tried to run her fingers through her hair and make herself presentable. Her suitcase was in the trunk of her car, wherever that happened to be. She shivered and reached for the afghan that Myrna had draped over her shoulders the night before. Light-headed and achy, she walked down the hall to the wide stairs.

As she walked through the living room a quilt-covered lump on the couch moved. She paused as he rolled over, flopping an arm over his face. He had stayed. Not because he wanted to make sure she was okay, but because he’d been worried about leaving his grandmother alone with her.

Laura didn’t blame him. Instead she liked that he was the kind of person who would stay, spending the night on an old Victorian sofa just to make sure his grandmother was safe.

The aroma from the kitchen pulled her away from the good doctor and back to her goal. Food. She could smell coffee and bacon. As she walked through the door, Myrna turned, smiling. She flipped a pancake and pointed to the coffeepot.

“Help yourself to coffee and the pancakes will be done shortly.”

“Thank you.” Laura turned and coughed. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ve got it handled. How are you feeling this morning?”

“About the same.” Her body still ached, and her throat burned. She was looking forward to the coffee. “I should make arrangements, though. To go somewhere.”

She needed a plan and she didn’t have one. This had been it for her. This had been her last resort.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Myrna handed her a plate of pancakes. “Sit down and eat.”

She took the plate, her hands trembling as she moved to the counter. She spread butter and then poured syrup across the golden-brown cakes. Her mouth watered as she thought about the last time she’d had pancakes, good pancakes.

From the living room she heard shuffling, mumbling and then footsteps. Myrna shook her head and then poured more batter on the griddle. A moment later Jesse walked through the door, disapproving but gorgeous with his chocolate-brown eyes still sleepy, and shadowy whiskers covering his lean cheeks. His straight, dark hair went in all directions, and he must have known because he was trying to brush it down with his fingers.

Laura took a bite of pancake and looked away from the barefoot cowboy in his faded jeans and flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She glanced quickly at her faded jeans and fuzzy sweater, both from a decade or two past, trying hard not to make comparisons.

“How are you this morning?” He walked straight to the coffeepot and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. He looked at her and pulled out another one. “Want coffee?”

“Please.” She glanced in Myrna’s direction. Myrna flipped another pancake on the platter and then scooped bacon out of a skillet.

Jesse turned from the coffeepot. He set a cup of coffee on the counter next to her. “You can sit in the dining room.”