Romancing the Cowboy

But under the circumstances, the cookies would be a healthier choice.

Chapter Three

Jared’s talk with the foreman would have to wait until after he’d driven Earl Clancy, the injured ranch hand, into the Brighton Valley Urgent Care Center for stitches.

Not only did Tori seem to have a good handle on first aid, she also had a way of dealing with a tough-asrawhide ranch hand who didn’t want “folks fussin’” over him.

When cajoling the crotchety wrangler into seeking medical help hadn’t worked, she got tough and slapped her hands on her hips. “Earl, don’t be stubborn. That wound is going to get infected if you don’t get it treated.”

Lester eased closer. “Ma’am, I’m afraid they don’t come any more hardheaded than Earl. About five years back, he lost his big toe when he didn’t take care of an ingrown nail.”

“Is that right?” Tori shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Well, listen here, Earl. There’s not a whole lot above the shoulders you’re going to want them to amputate. Now, get into Mr. Clayton’s truck and let him drive you to town.”

Earl grumbled some, but he did as the woman ordered.

“You’ll be back and mending that fence before you know it,” Lester told him.

But in reality, Jared and Earl hadn’t returned until just after lunch. Tori had called it right, though. She’d guessed it would take close to fifteen stitches to close the wound, and Jared had counted sixteen.

As they approached the barn, the truck hit a pothole in the driveway, and Earl rattled off an “Ow,” followed by a few choice swear words. “I told that damn nurse I didn’t need a tetanus shot, but she was as pushy as that redheaded maid. And just to be ornery, I think she hit a nerve in my rump. And now my backside hurts worse than my head.”

Jared parked the truck near the barn, where one of the hands had left Earl’s horse waiting for him, saddled and ready to go.

“You need any help?” he asked the man.

“Heck, no. I’ve had about all the tender lovin’ care I need for the rest of my life.”

Jared watched as Earl climbed onto his mount, wincing as he settled his butt in the saddle. As he rode off, Jared headed for the barn, looking for the foreman. He found him in his office, placing an order for feed and grain.

When Lester hung up the phone, Jared asked, “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” Lester pointed at a green vinyl chair that sat across the desk from him. “Have a seat.”

Jared thought about shutting the door, but decided it was just the two of them. When he sat down, he tossed out the question that had been bothering him since the night before. “How do you think Granny is doing? I’m talking both physically and mentally.”

“All right, I suppose. But she’s getting older, and bodies naturally wear out. I guess you could say she’s slipping a bit.”

“In what way?”

Lester glanced at the open doorway, then back at Jared. “She’s been a little forgetful.”

“Give me an example.”

Lester lifted his battered Stetson, raked a hand through his thick, curly gray hair, then adjusted the hat back on his head. “Can’t say as I remember anything in particular.”

Maybe Doc had been mistaken.

“Then how do you know she’s ‘slipping’?” Jared asked.

“I just do. And it wouldn’t hurt none if you and your brothers started coming around to visit more often.”

“It might be best if I took her home to live with me.”

Lester’s eyes grew wide, and he slowly shook his head. “Nope. That won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t. That’s all.”

A lot of help he was. If Lester hadn’t always been a man of few words, Jared might have thought the aging ranch foreman was slipping, too. “Thanks. I’ll let you get back to work.”

A glimmer of relief seemed to cross Lester’s face, and Jared left him to it. Maybe it was time to go into the house and have a little chat with both the maid and the cook.

As Jared left the barn and headed toward the porch, he spotted Sabrina’s nephew playing with Sassy, one of two Australian shepherds that lived on the ranch.

With his mind on Granny and her well-being, Jared had no intention of stopping to talk, but the boy stood when he approached.

“Hey, mister. Can I ask you something?”

Jared’s steps slowed. “What’s that?”

“Are you a real cowboy?”

Jared had half a notion to tell him no and go about his business. There was no need to befriend a kid who wouldn’t be living on the ranch that much longer—especially if Granny sold out and moved in with Jared.

But he remembered his own first days on the Rocking C, his own wide-eyed interest in horses and cowboys and ranch life. In fact, the day Clem Bixby had taken him under wing had turned Jared’s life around and set the course of his future.

“I suppose you could call me a cowboy,” he admitted to the kid.

“And you used to live here, right?”

“Yep.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

“I own my own spread about a hundred miles north of here.” Jared wondered where the little guy was going with all the questions.

“Then I guess I’m allowed to talk to you all I want.”

“What do you mean?” Jared asked.

“Sabrina said I can’t bother the cowboys who live here because they’re working.”

So Jared was free game, huh?

The boy eased closer, his small hand lifted to shield the sun’s glare from his eyes. “Can I ask you something else?”

Again, Jared thought about making an excuse and leaving, but what would it hurt to stick around for a minute or so longer? “Sure. Go ahead.”