The Rancher's Best Gift

“No. I’ve already eaten my quota of sweets for today.”

She propped her elbows on the table and rested folded hands beneath her chin. “So, what’s been happening at Three Rivers lately? Mom mostly keeps me informed, but I think she purposely avoids talking about certain things.”

“Like what?”

“Like my brothers’ and sister’s babies. She thinks hearing about them makes me sad because I don’t have any.” She moved her head back and forth. “And I guess in a way, it does. But if I’m meant to have children I’ll have them in due time.”

She had the frankness of her mother and the practicality of her father, Matthew thought. Together, she was unlike any of her siblings.

“All the children are fine and it won’t be long until Holt’s baby arrives. It’s going to be strange to hear him called Daddy.”

“I’m very happy for him. And Isabelle is wonderful. She’s the perfect match for him,” she said, then gave him a long, pointed look. “So, what about my brothers and their search into Dad’s death?”

Matthew shook his head. “You know about that?”

“Mom and my brothers don’t talk to me about it, but Vivian does. She says Mom clams up if she asks her anything about it and our brothers are obsessed with the subject.”

“What do you think?” he asked curiously. “That they should continue to search for answers or leave the whole thing be?”

Sighing, she closed her eyes, and Matthew used the moment to study her face. She’d always had beautiful features but now they held a maturity that made her even more attractive. All he could think was how stupid Graham Danby had been to ask for his engagement ring back and how lucky Camille was that he had.

“Answers would be good, I suppose,” she finally said. “But in the end it won’t bring Daddy back. That’s harder for me to live with than the not knowing.”

“Your brothers want justice.”

“Don’t you mean vengeance?”

“Maybe. I’d definitely like to serve up a little vengeance of my own.”

He rose from the chair and picked up the dirty dessert plate along with his cup. “Thanks for the meal, Camille. I really need to get to bed. The men are going to be saddled up by five thirty. That’s going to come pretty early.”

Nodding, she rose along with him and reached for the dishes in his hands. “I’ll take care of those. You go on.”

He started out of the room, then paused at the doorway to look back at her. “Camille, from now on you really need to let me fend for myself.”

The faint smile on her face said it didn’t matter what he said. Ultimately she’d do whatever she wanted to do.

“Good night, Matthew.”

“Good night, Camille.”

The next morning at the diner in Dragoon, Camille slid a stack of pancakes and a pair of over-easy eggs onto a warm plate, placed it on a tall counter and slapped a bell to alert Peggy that the order was ready.

The waitress immediately snatched up the plate and hurried away. Camille reached for the next order and recognized with a sigh of relief there wasn’t a next order. For the moment she was caught up.

“Wow! What a run. I haven’t had time to draw in a good breath!” Peggy exclaimed as she pushed through the swinging door and into the small kitchen. “Where are all of these people coming from?”

Camille sank onto a wooden stool and looked over at the tall woman with a messy black bun pinned to the top of her head. In her early thirties, with big brown eyes and a wide smile that hid all kinds of disappointments in her life, Peggy had become a dear friend to Camille.

“The few times I glanced out to the dining area, I didn’t spot one familiar face. They must all be travelers.”

“Hmm, good thing, I guess. If we had to depend on customers from Dragoon, we might as well close up the doors.” She looked over at Camille and shook her head. “Honey, I’ll never understand why you’re wasting yourself in this lonely little spot in the desert.”

She smiled wanly at her friend. “Because I like this little lonely spot in the desert. I’ve tried the big city thing. The traffic and hustle and bustle. The business suits and high heels. Yes, I made a nice salary, but it wasn’t worth it to me.”

Peggy tightened the bobby pins holding her bun. “Hmm. I wouldn’t mind trying it someday. Just to see what it was like to live in a house that wasn’t filled with dust and to smell like a woman instead of burnt coffee and cooking grease.”

“Who cares about dust?” Camille retorted. “And if men were honest, most of them would say they’d rather have a woman who smelled like food instead of flowers.”

“And who around here wants a man?” Peggy asked with a cynical laugh. “I certainly don’t! And even if I did, the single male population around here is darned scarce.”

Camille thoughtfully regarded her friend. If Peggy took more pains with her appearance, she’d be a knockout. But makeup or a hairdo wouldn’t take the jaded shadows from her eyes. Only deep-down happiness could do that.

“So it is, but that doesn’t mean you should stop looking. You’ve told me before how much you’d like a child of your own,” Camille reasoned. “You can’t very well make one without a man.”

Peggy slanted her a tired look. “There’s always a fertility clinic.”

Camille couldn’t believe her friend would actually go to that length to have a baby on her own. “Are you saying you’re ready to do that?”

Peggy shrugged. “Wouldn’t that be better than putting up with a creep who spouts words of love, then cheats every chance he gets?”

From what Peggy had told her, she’d been engaged once, but the guy had turned out to be a verbal abuser and she’d dumped him before the wedding plans could get started. After that misjudgment, she’d married a car salesman from Tucson, but a week after they’d gotten back from their honeymoon, he’d cheated on her. Given the briefness of the marriage, she’d gotten an annulment. Now she looked at men as though they all had horns and a forked tongue.

“Peggy, there’s a good man out there just waiting for you to find him.”

Peggy’s short laugh was mocking. “Coming from you, Camille, that’s very funny. A beauty like you, hiding yourself away.” She pushed away from the work counter and started out of the kitchen, only to pause at the swinging doors. “By the way, what are you doing tonight? I thought I’d drive over to Benson and try to find something to wear to Gideon’s Halloween party. Wanta come?”

“Gideon is having a party?”

Gideon was a seventy-five year old war veteran and widower who bussed the tables here at the diner. He was a happy-go-lucky guy, but Camille couldn’t picture him throwing a Halloween party.

“His grandchildren are coming to visit and he wants to do something special for them, so I’ve offered to lend him a hand.”

Any other time, Camille would have given her friend a quick yes. But she hated to think of Matthew dragging himself in tonight, exhausted and hungry, and her not being there to take care of him.

What the heck are you thinking, Camille? Matthew isn’t your man. He’s a grown man who’s lived alone for years. He doesn’t need you or anyone to take care of him!

The sardonic voice going off in her head couldn’t have been more right, Camille thought. She’d be more than stupid to start planning her life around Matthew. In two weeks he’d be gone back to Three Rivers and she wouldn’t see him again until next year. On the other hand, if she did want to spend any time with the foreman, she needed to make the most of the next fourteen days while he and the roundup crew were at Red Bluff.

Rising from the stool, she picked up a spatula. As she scraped grease and meat particles from the flat grill, she said, “Thanks for asking, Peggy, but the crew from Three Rivers is at Red Bluff now and I feel like I need to be there.”

Peggy frowned. “Be there for what? I’ve never known of you doing ranch work.”

Normally, the woman’s remark would have rolled off Camille’s back, but for some reason it stung today. “Well, I have been known to ride a horse and herd cows. I just haven’t done that sort of thing in a long time. Anyway, I just meant they might need me to run errands or something.”

The waitress shrugged. “Okay, you go ahead and play cowgirl. I’ve got to find something spooky to wear.”

Peggy disappeared through the swinging doors, and Camille dropped the spatula and swiped a hand across her forehead. She honestly didn’t know what was coming over her.