Chief Cook and Bottle Washer (3 page)

"I'll wait."

"Suit yourself. Oh hey, Steve's back, better
keep an eye on Clint." Bertha turned away.

Deke's frown clouded his face. "You could
have spent the rest of the day not telling me that, Bertha."

"Sorry, thought you'd wanna know."

"Thanks, and you could bring me a tall glass
of tea, and some lemon."

Bertha shot a smile at him over her shoulder,
"You handsome blue eyed devil, if I was ten years younger, I'd be
makin' a play for you myself. You Travers boys are too good lookin'
for your own good. Every one of ya, even ole Cal."

Deke grinned and relaxed, leaning his head
against the back of the booth, he closed his eyes. Steve Brewer was
not good news. Same age as Clint, he usually spent the better part
of

summer trying to talk Clint into women,
whiskey and rodeos. And not in that order.

Deke cast a quick glance toward the kitchen
again. It had been a long time since a woman interested him enough
to take a second look. But Emma Smith, if that was her real name,
was a

stranger, and Deke was simply curious as the
next fella. He knew he didn't have time for a woman. The only thing
he had time for was sweat-drooling, back-breaking work, and
corralling the rest of the Travers bunch. But his brothers needed
settling down, and he knew one sure way to do it.

He needed to find out if the new cook was
married, divorced, widowed or single. What had brought her to this
one-horse town, anyway? And why did she need a lawyer? She didn't
look the criminal type. No, he'd bet his last dime she wasn't a
criminal, more a victim than a criminal.

He was knee deep in jumping to a few
conclusions on his own when he heard the door bang open and knew
his brothers and father had arrived. No one entered a room like the
Travers boys.

With a round of howdy's they clamored loudly
over to the corner booth and crowded in. Shoulder to shoulder with
Jake, Deke eyed his two wayward brothers with a knowing look.

"Get everything loaded?"

"All set," they chorused.

"What are we gonna do about a housekeeper and
cook?" Clint asked staring directly at Deke for an answer.

"I guess we'll have to put an ad in the
Sweetwater paper," Deke said glumly. "I'll give 'em a call when we
get back to the ranch."

His eyes traveled to the kitchen again, but
he didn't say anything. Not yet.

"Boy when everybody found out ole Dill ran
off with Mattie, they hooted," Rusty was saying. "Some figured it
out. I guess we're just slow."

"Or blind," Jake added with a slight
smile.

"Yeah, only I'm not laughing," Deke added
roughly. "In case you rounders don't know it, they put us in a
hellova bind."

Cal leaned forward. "I've been thinking on
that son. If Clint stays home this summer, he can handle it. He's
better than Dill and that's saying something. But we can't do
without a cook. Not for our bunch."

"Well I can't promise–" Clint began.

Deke figured Clint would object. He
considered his dad's statement and smiled.

"Not a bad idea, dad, but where do you
suggest we start looking for such a 'miracle worker'?" Jake tackled
the menu as though he meant to order everything on it. "I mean
we're a little on the spoiled side, Mattie had been with us for
over ten years. She knew how each of us liked our steaks and
eggs."

"That's a fact."

"It could take a while. What are we gonna do
in the meantime?" Clint asked, his brow furrowing.

"Oh I don't know, maybe we could let Dad do
the light housekeeping and you do the cooking. Since you're so good
over a camp-fire." Deke injected his smile broadening.

"Aw now, I ain't gonna cook. I knew this was
coming. Sure I can slap a steak over a fire, and heat biscuits, but
cook for our small army, forget it. We gotta find somebody and
quick. I'm no dough boy."

"Somebody for what?" Bertha asked as she came
toward them with a big smile aimed directly at Cal. Deke watched
his father's face light up, knowing the mutual losses they suffered
had brought them together. Cal liked Bertha and everybody knew it,
but their romance so to speak wasn't going anywhere. What was wrong
with the Travers men, none of them had a relationship going except
Rusty. And that was on the skids half the time.

"We need a housekeeper and cook, Bertha. Know
anyone lookin' for work?" Jake asked innocently.

"I heard about Dill and Mattie. It's about
time. They been flirtin' with each other for years. I guess that
sorta leaves you fellas high and dry though, don't it?" Bertha
scratched her chin with the end of her pencil.

Just then the door shimmied open and in
walked a bedraggled Andy Thomas. He slapped his hat on his knee to
get rid of the dust. Bertha turned and waved, then nodded at Deke,
"See, I told you he'd be back. And from the looks of it, he didn't
fare too well with that little gal. Now he's come a grovelin'."

Deke's brow shot upward. "What ya gonna do
Bertha?"

"Don't know. I can't just oust the poor
little thing. But the truth is, Andy's been with me a long time. I
sorta feel responsibile for him too."

"What are you talkin' about Bertha?" Cal
asked as though confused by the entire conversation.

"Yeah, what are you talkin' about?" Clint
chimed as everyone stared at her as though she'd grown two
heads.

Deke pushed Jake out of his seat and scooted
out of the booth. He glanced from Andy, then toward the kitchen. He
had an idea. He really wasn't sure about this Emma Smith, but
desperate times called for desperate measures. Besides, gut
instincts told him he owed her one. "Don't fret Bertha. Come with
me, I think I can straighten this whole thing out to our mutual
benefit."

"Straighten out what?" Cal asked.

"What's goin' on? What mutual benefit?" Rusty
hollered.

Bertha waved them down. "Don't know, but
Deke's got a better head on his shoulders than any of you other
cowpokes."

The brothers stared at each other, their
mouths hanging open. Cal shrugged.

Deke went directly over to Andy. "Andy, heard
you left town."

"Yeah, I knew I'd be back though, and so did
Bertha, didn't ya?" Andy's voice rose a notch, and a light sweat
peppered his brow.

"Sure, I knew. But I done hired me a cook
Andy."

"Done hired a cook? But you knew I'd be
back." Andy twirled his hat in his hands nervously. "Aw man, now
what am I gonna do? I don't know anything but slingin' hash,
Bertha, you know that."

Deke put a hand on Bertha's shoulder, and one
on Andy's. "Looks like we got a problem. But I gotta hunch I can
solve this to everyone's satisfaction. Let's go in the kitchen and
see if we can straighten this out."

The brothers watched them stroll toward the
kitchen.

"What's Deke up to?"

"Damned if I know."

Deke pushed open the swinging doors of the
kitchen. Fresh baked pies, hamburgers sizzling on the grill, only
added to Deke's hunger. Putting aside the fact that he was nearly
starved, he approached Emma with a smile and a nod.

But it wasn't the food that made Deke heat up
like a branding iron, as his eyes slowly slid over Emma, to just
below the waist. Seeing her in broad daylight had done much more
than peaked his interest. For the first time in a long time his
body reacted. Not that her dirty white apron, nor her baggy jeans
and T-shirt gave away any secrets to her slim little figure, but it
merely hinted of a woman that couldn't be hid. And Emma had an
outstanding backside. Yes sir, outstanding, Deke cleared his throat
and raised his glance back to the warmth of her gaze as she turned
around. Too red dots decorated her cheeks. Those red dots indicated
the woman had character and values. He liked Emma Smith.

The scuff on her boots belied the fact that
she wasn't some city slicker. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. He
had to choose his words, so as not to offend. Emma looked anything
but happy that a crowd had suddenly gathered in her kitchen. He
doubted from her expression that she recognized him. Although he
couldn't understand why his voice hadn't given him away unless the
storm had detracted from that, too.

Deke wondered if Clint would be attracted to
her, if he'd thank him later. Young enough, pretty enough, and to
top it off Emma could cook. He couldn't lose with this deal.

Deke eyed her more closely. Small and
delicate, yet sturdy too, he decided quickly. Something about that
stubborn set chin of hers told him she was from a healthy stock. A
heart-shaped face stared up at him as he came to stand only inches
from her.

He towered over her, but she didn't shrink.
If anything, she bowed up a little more. A woman with spirit.

She continued to slap hamburgers on the grill
as she watched Deke from the corner of her eye. She was a
suspicious little creature.

"Emma," he tipped his hat at her as she
turned to stare and looked directly into eyes that made his heart
trip a little faster. Those eyes could glue a man to the floor,
make him forget what he was thinking. "I'm Deke Travers ma'am, and
it seems we have a slight problem."

"Oh?" Emma's brow shot upward as she backed
away from the grill, a hot spatula in one hand, and a fresh sack of
buns in the other. The expression on her face was serious, not
smiling. Deke noted the death grip on the spatula. He watched as
she laid the buns down, wiped her hands on her apron and glanced
from one to the other. Obviously she was sizing him up too. She
still didn't shrink. He liked that, too.

"Yeah, you see, Andy here used to be the
cook."

Emma's eyes widened as Deke directed her
attention to Andy, who stood a few feet away, a little slouched, a
little guilty looking. Emma obviously sized Andy up too.

"He's been here for a good ten years. He's
the son, Bertha never had." Maybe he shouldn't pour it on so thick,
Deke thought when he saw that frown appear on Emma's face. "He's
probably not as good a cook as you, but he's family." It was the
truth and it was thick as syrup.

Bertha nodded.

Emma tipped her nose a little higher and went
back to the grill, flipped a hamburger with a vengeance then turned
back to her audience. She folded her arms over her chest, still
frowning at Deke. Still griping that spatula with a death grip. He
couldn't help but wonder what had happened in her life to take
things so seriously.

"So?" Emma finally spoke.

"Well, you see, a little over three months
ago, he got a wild hair and took off after a gal. Now he's back,
naturally wanting his job back. Bertha and Andy are friends.
Friends in a small town are important."

"I see. And what's all this got to do with
being in my kitchen?" Emma backed up to the counter, gripping it
till her knuckles turned white.

"No ma'am." Deke moved decidedly closer. "You
don't see." He wanted to wipe that worried look off Emma's face. He
liked this little gal, and he didn't even know why. He knew that
whatever her problems were, they were her own. She wasn't the
criminal kind. He'd always prided himself in sizing up a person
quick. He had to, he was the boss of a sizable ranch. "We don't do
things that way in Devil's Corner. Bertha wouldn't feel right about
firing a good cook. And she says you're good. Andy wouldn't feel
right about taking a job away from a pretty little lady like
yourself. So they are at a stalemate. But I think I can solve
this."

Emma watched them all carefully, then looked
at Deke suspiciously. "How's that?"

Everyone stared at him.

He twirled his hat in his hands, and rocked
his boots back and forth against the wooden floor. "It just so
happens–I need a cook and housekeeper. And I think you'd fit the
bill nicely."

Emma's mouth flew open to obviously object,
but he went on before she had the chance.

"Now wait, hear me out. I know this is kinda
sudden. But we're all in a pickle. Bertha says you can cook. I
believe her. It smells and looks like heaven in here."

"But you've never eaten my cooking, have
you?"

"No ma'am. Never."

"And you'd hire me, on Bertha's word?"

"Well sure. Bertha don't lie, ma'am."

Bertha took one step toward her and smiled.
"Deke's fine people Emma. I'll vouch for that."

Emma glanced from one to the other. Her frown
dissolved into what looked like confusion. "Let me get this
straight. You want me to work for you? A stranger! Just like that.
Without knowing a thing about me."

"Oh I'll get you to fill out an application,
if you want. But it's not necessary. Bertha's word is good enough
for me. You'd be working for the 4 Bar None Ranch. It's a good size
spread, with a hardy bunch of cow punchers to feed everyday. You'd
do the cookin' and cleanin'. The cleaning's not much, laundry
mostly. We're a hard working bunch and we'd need a couple of square
meals a day." When she tossed him another suspicious look he went
on. "Look, it's like this, I can't spare the time to advertize.
Around here we go by word of mouth more than anything. I could put
an ad in the Sweetwater paper, but it would take a while, and my
boys might starve in the meantime. We just don't get that many new
people around here. It's as simple as that. Now, I realize you
don't know us, but Bertha can vouch for me and my brothers. She's
known us all our lives. We're locals. And if you need references, I
can get all you'll need."

"But-t you don't even know me. And I
certainly don't know you."

"Don't need to. You gotta recommendation
already. Don't know where you're from ma'am but we don't stand on
formalities out here. There just isn't time."

A long silence stretched, as Deke waited for
an answer.

"So what do you say?"

"What kind of pay?" Emma's brow shot up, her
arms still folded, her frown still in place.