Teaching the Cowboy (8 page)

“You were kinda close. The Ericksons hired a tutor for the kids’ homeschooling stuff.”

Now that was interesting. For Becka to finally outsource it, to admit she wasn’t doing something as well as her mother-in-law had, meant she was in dire straits. Sid stood and wiped her hands clean on her shorts. “Where’d they find the tutor?”

“I’m not exactly sure. Taylor and I were talking about something else last night on the messenger software, and he referenced her as sort of a tangential kind of thing. Her name’s Miss Silver. Comes from out east somewhere.”

“I feel for her.” And she did, especially knowing how Ted Erickson liked to ogle pretty women. He kept his hands off, but with that dirty, skeevy gaze of his, he should have been the first man lined up at the church door each Sunday, waiting to repent. “Is she pretty?”
Lord, I hope not for her sake with all the hound dogs around here.

“Taylor says so. Said she looks like a movie star. Real glamorous.”

“Shit. Poor woman.”

“Oh, I reckon she’ll be all right.”

“Why?”

Kitty cackled and rubbed her palms together. “Here’s the better part.”

“Jesus, child, tell me.”

“How much is it worth to you?”

“Are you seriously blackmailing me for gossip? I can’t believe it.”
Well, that’s a lie. Who else do I ever talk to nowadays? If I don’t hear it from Kitty, I don’t hear any damn thing. I kind of suck. When’d that happen? I used to be cool.

Kitty twirled the end of her ponytail around her fingers. “I need new headphones. Good ones.”

Sid blew another raspberry. “Fine. We’ll order them tonight. Now, tell me why you’re so sure she’ll be safe from pervy Ted’s adoring gazes.”

“It’s ’cause of who’s paying the other part of her paycheck.”

“Who, damn it?” The suspense was eating her up. She smacked her hand down onto the bookcase shelf nearest the desk only to slap her missing paper. “Ooh. Thanks, Kitty.”

“Uncle John.”

Sid dropped the paper and it flitted beneath the desk. “What?”

Kitty closed her eyes yet again and nodded. “I always get two sources, and I confirmed it with Landon. Uncle John is pulling the kids out of the community school so they don’t have to drive into town every day. It’ll be like
Little House on the Prairie
or something where they’ll have a bunch of different grades with one teacher.”

“Wow.”

Sid rarely wished she were on speaking terms with her big brother, but she did now. It didn’t seem like a John thing to do. It sounded risky even, pulling the kids out from school like that. The Storafalt school wasn’t exactly a sure bet by any means. But, Kitty went there and would be starting her junior year the next month. It was accredited and there was a system. More or less.

What was John up to? And who was this Miss Silver?

She picked up her paper and rolled it into a tube while she thought.

“Hey, Kit? Can you get Landon on the phone for me?”

“Dad, did you shower?” Landon ogled his father as he joined him in the kitchen.

“So what if I did?”

“You never shower before lunch. Are you going into town or something?”

John tried to still the twitching of his cheek. “No. What’s wrong with being clean?” He carried his water cup over to the table and set it there while he pulled his boots back on.

“So, you’re going to shower again after working this afternoon?”

“Who said I was going back to work? Maybe I’m going to give Rufus a chance to do his job for a change.”

Landon leaned his forearms against the table and gave his father an inscrutable look. “Dad, I’m nineteen. Maybe it’s not so transparent to Peter and Liss, but I know what you’re doing.”

John kept his face utterly still. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“You’re trying to hook up with Ronnie.”

Blood drained from John’s head and pooled in his gut. He gulped. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me it is, because I know you better than anyone. I know your habits.”

“Well, shit, Anna knows my habits.”

“And I’m sure Anna is hip to what you’re doing, too.”

John blew out a breath and laced his fingers together at the back of his head. He tipped his chair onto its rear legs and stared at his son. “And?”

“You waiting for me to object?”

“I guess I am.” He studied Landon’s face for any clues to his thoughts, but could read none.

Landon stood and walked to the doorway between the kitchen and dining room where Anna was setting the table with Liss and looked out. When he returned, he said, “Mom left and you’ve been alone for the most part since, right?”

Landon didn’t really need to know about the Roes, so John nodded.

“I can see the allure. She’s different than what you’re used to. Smart. Steady.”

John rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “That she is. Do you think we’re compatible?”

John realized the foolishness of seeking counsel from a nineteen year old, but who else was he going to ask? Pervy Ted? His father? Oh, no. Johan Senior didn’t hash his words, and John was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear the older man’s wisdom on the situation.

“Dad, anyone would be compatible with a man who’s never home.”

“I’m trying to get better. That’s why I—”

“Yeah, yeah. Why you hired Rufus. I like Ronnie, but you need to make sure you like her for her and not because she’s fresh meat.”

That struck a nerve. “Part of me wonders if you’re not waiting to make a pass at her yourself.”

Landon’s expression melted into a blank mask before he retreated to the dining room. “She’s not my type.”

The doorbell pealed through the house and John shouted, “I’ll get it.” before Anna could make a movement toward the foyer. When he reached the entryway, he took a moment to assess Ronnie through the window glass. She had her back turned to the door and was looking out toward the road, which was indeed difficult to see from their position with all the dust and haze. She was wearing another blouse, this one short-sleeved, collarless, and decorated with small flowers. She had it tucked into belted dark blue jeans that flared a bit at the ankles. Definitely not cowgirl pants, but they suited her and her…little flats with bows? They needed to have a talk.

He pulled open the door and said, “Howdy,” to her back. When she turned, he observed the dark circles under her eyes and felt a renewed bond over their shared dearth of sleep.

She offered him a smile, but it was a weak one. “Howdy yourself.” She slipped in past him, the front of her body grazing his side in such a way he wanted to pull her in close and kiss her silly. That’d have to wait. A blonde puff appeared in his periphery as he closed the door.

“Hi, Ronnie,” Liss said, skipping from the dining room and toward the hall.

“Hey, kiddo,” Ronnie called after her.

“Something been keeping you up?” he asked Ronnie.

She patted her open mouth with one perfectly manicured hand, and her eyes had gone all watery. “Something was howling last night.”

“Probably coyotes. Had a bit of a population boom last year. Eventually you’ll start sleeping through it. It’s like white noise.”

“Hope so.”

He stole a look at the dining room door, and seeing no one in it at the moment, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his body.

She didn’t fight him, but her jaw fell open with surprise as she stared at his face.

“You know, Ronnie, the echoing is less noticeable here. You’d probably get more sleep if you let us move you.”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“I’m sure you’d be fine wherever you go, but why don’t you let me spoil you anyway?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Sorry, but you should have worked it out before I arrived.”

“I wouldn’t have cared so much if you were ugly. Hate to say it.”

That earned him an eye roll.

“I hope the Ericksons didn’t fill you up this morning,” Anna said from the archway.

Ronnie startled and tried to pull back from his grip, but he held her tighter.

“Where’ya going?” he cooed.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but said to Anna, “No, but Becka did offer to bring me waffles. I told her not to bother and that I’d eaten with the ranch hands.”

Anna growled and mumbled something indecipherable under her breath before returning to the dining room.

“I don’t think that’s the answer she wanted to hear,” John said. He nuzzled his face against her neck. She smelled nice. Sweet and cloying like some hothouse flower he’d never once encountered in real life.

“Well, tell me what the script is so I can get it right the next time.”

“If I knew it, I’d tell ya. Best not to bring up Becka’s cooking.” He loosened his hold on her and switched to a one-armed grasp as he guided her across the great room toward the dining room. He still didn’t let go of her as they entered the dining room, sweeping her toward the buffet, and led her to the seat at the right hand to the head of the table.

“Did you really eat with the ranch hands?” he asked.

She nodded. “I was up early and decided to see what the communal eats were.”

“Anything good?” Landon asked from the opposite side of the table.

Anna popped him on the side of the head as she passed by him with a basket of sandwich rolls.

“Ow,” he said, rubbing his ear.

Ronnie laughed, probably glad to see she wasn’t the only person having a hard time toeing the Anna line. “Corned beef hash and eggs. I only had a little. And a lot of coffee. I wanted to get back to my computer. Oh, that reminds me, Landon, I have a list of test dates for you. There’s one coming up soon. If you want to test twice, we need to scramble.”

“Got it,” Landon said.

“Where’s Peter?” Ronnie asked, grabbing a roll from the platter as it was passed around.

“Here. Ow.”

There was a bang as the dining table shook, and Peter sat up in his seat next to Landon and rubbed his head. “Damn it.”

“Language, Peter,” John said with a long sigh.

“Peter, why were you under the table, honey?” Ronnie asked.

“Dropped Sally.”

John groaned and closed his eyes.
Shit. Here we go
.

“Sally?”

“Yeah, Sally.” Peter extended his arm and dropped the small green snake onto the tabletop.

Chapter Six

“W
as nice of you to eat dessert although I could tell you really didn’t have room for it,” John said as he put a saddle on his horse.

Ronnie shrugged from where she leaned against the stable door. “I feel awful, but Anna seemed a bit sensitive this morning. It’ll work itself down like that second sandwich, I guess.” She shifted her weight to her other foot and groaned as she rubbed her belly. “I thought you wanted to talk about Peter? I brought all my notes. They’re in my car.”

“Oh, we’re going to. I figured I’d show you around the place a bit while we do it.” He cocked his head toward Sandy.

“You mean, on horses?”

“Never ridden a horse?”

She didn’t like that smug look on his face one bit. “No.”

“Oh, it’s easy, and I’m going to lead you. You’re wearing bad shoes for it, but Sandy doesn’t care much about fashionable footwear.”

“Not saying I’m doing this, but if I’m riding Sandy, what are you going to be doing?”

“I’ll get Landon’s horse, Midnight. Needs to get used to me, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just drove?”

He laughed and led Sandy out to the fence. He tied her reins to the post and patted her haunches. “Be right back.”

Ronnie sighed and eyed the big brown horse from the rear. She made a wide, cautious arc around Sandy and stood about ten feet from the horse’s head. If Sandy had had eyebrows, Ronnie was certain she’d have one or both cocked up.

Her phone buzzed on her clip and she plucked it up and answered without looking at the display.

“Ronnie, it’s Becka.”

“Hi, Becka. What’s up?” Ronnie watched as John led a beautiful, stately black horse out of the stable and parked…him? She leaned her head sideways to assess the horse’s undercarriage. Yes, definitely
him
. Parked him next to Sandy.

“Ronnie, honey, we’re grilling tonight. We’re having steaks and sausages and barbecue chicken cutlets if that’s your kind of thing. What time do you think you’ll be over?”

“Um.” She looked over at John, who was leaning onto the fence rail and assessing her with his pale blue eyes narrowed. She covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “How long do you think this’ll take? Becka says they’re grilling out tonight.”

He squared his jaw, straightened up, walked over to her, and gently took the phone with his gloved fingers. “Hey, Beck, it’s John.”

Ronnie wrung her hands, hating she couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation. She hoped tearful Becka hadn’t started crying on impact. John had the delicacy of an asteroid colliding with Earth.

“Yeah, Ronnie’s over here. Fed her lunch and she’s trying to get a handle on Peter.”

Ronnie let her eyes trail from his smirking face down to his well-worn, square-toed boots. They weren’t fancy with a lot of stitch work or studding. Just plain black leather, broken in over the course of years. Rugged, handsome, and utilitarian. Just like him. She met his blue gaze again and he winked at her.

“No, we’re not at the house right now. I’m taking her out on Sandy to see a few dozen acres of the ranch. Probably good she do the tour once just in case she ever gets lost out here, you know?”

Ronnie startled. The thought had honestly never crossed her mind. Lost out on the prairie with the coyotes and snakes and God-knows-what-all?
Jesus
. Her core temperature ratcheted up a few ticks at the thought. She fanned herself with her hand.

“Yeah, she’ll probably be back by then, but listen, we’re going to feed her over here tonight, okay? I feel like such an asshole that you all are doing so much over there. Let me pull my weight, okay?”

Ronnie’s jaw dropped.

John stroked the bottom of it with his thumb and nudged it upward again.

“No, you don’t have to reschedule. If you were going to cook all that meat, you should go ahead and do it. Kids’ll eat it, or some of the ranch hands if you’re really desperate.”

Before she could further balk, he kissed her, a short, tender thing she was pretty sure was meant to be silencing. It worked. She even closed her eyes to savor just how soft his lips were. They shouldn’t have been that soft. Cowboys shouldn’t have lips like that. They should have been rough and wind-burned, not delectably addictive. He groaned and drew back from her.

“Hold on, let me ask. No, matter of fact, here she is.”

She took the phone from him. “Hello.” Her voice quavered, much like her legs were starting to as she watched John lick his lips. She cleared her throat.

“Ronnie, honey, me and the girls go to early service at the church. You want to tag along? Then lunch at our place?”

“Uh…”

John smirked and wrung a cowboy hat, not his, in his gloved hands.

“What denomination?”
Like it matters
.

“Lutheran, of course.”

Don’t remember anything about Lutherans. Must Google.

Hell
. “Sure, why not?” she replied, baring her teeth at John.

“Yay! We’ll swing by and get you around seven thirty, that all right? Early service.”

“Sure, that’ll be fine.”

She ended the call and clipped the phone back to her belt. “You couldn’t make an excuse for that? I don’t go to just anyone’s church.”

He smiled and handed her the hat. “I’m just throwin’ Becka a bone, you know? I think
she
thinks I’m out to get her.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Of course not.” He goosed her rear and made her yip. “I’m out to get
you
.”

She sighed and straightened out the hat. At least he was straightforward about it. It was downright refreshing compared to what she’d been used to. “What’s this for?”

“Helps with staving off heat stroke a little bit. It’s yours. Put it on.”

She assessed the bone-colored thing a moment, turning it around and around in her hands. “I’m not really a hat girl, John. Headbands and scarves, sure.”

“And the occasional tiara?”

The blood drained from her face. “How’d you hear about that?”

“People like putting pictures of pretty women on the Internet, I guess.” He took the hat from her and propped it on her head. “You’re going have to flatten that bun, honey.” He smirked.

She ground her teeth and yanked the hat off, mumbling to herself as she pulled out bobby pins and hair ties. She let her hair fall, gathered it into a messy low ponytail, and jammed the hat onto her head before he could make further commentary.

“You should wear your hair down sometime,” he said, tipping her hat up so he could plant his lips on her forehead. “Like you did in the pageants.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement,” she said, and then blushed at the rasp that had seeped into her throat.
God, what is this man doing to me?
She cleared her throat and pulled her hat down a bit farther over her brow as she backed away from him. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

He wrapped his large hands around her waist and then skimmed down her left leg, indicating she should put her foot up into the stirrup. “You make it sound like I’m torturing you. It’s just a little ride. I’ll even make it short to spare that pretty little rump of yours.”

“Ha ha,” she said as her crotch made contact with the saddle.

“Just hold on to the horn. I’ll hold your reins with mine. Not so hard to learn. Maybe you can take them on the way back.”

He walked over to Midnight, and as he wedged his booted foot into the stirrup she gazed upon the majesty that was the man’s jean-clad backside. She suddenly understood why her granny had loved watching those old Westerns, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with good versus evil and the steely American spirit. Nope. It was all about the asses.

“I’m going to show you some of the major landmarks so if you ever get turned around out there, you can reorient yourself or at least make an educated guess what your position is.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just programmed your house’s GPS location into my phone and just referred back to it if I got off track?”

“Easier, yeah, but what are you going to do if your battery dies? Charge it up with your attitude?”

Asshole
. She sucked her teeth. “I don’t have an attitude.”

He laughed so loud it echoed in the valley.

They rode in silence until the ranch house and outbuildings faded from view. He led the horses near a copse of trees situated by an anemic stream. He hopped down and then held his arms up to her.

“What’s this place?”

“We’re about five miles from the road. Come on down. I want to tell you a story.”

Story time? She looked at the patchy ground, then John’s too-calm face. He wasn’t joking. “Snakes down there?”

“Probably.”

She tightened her fingers around the horn. “You’ll have to excuse me if I beg off.”

“You’re not that big of a priss. They generally leave you alone if you leave them alone. Come on. Just step careful. Won’t be long. Want to explain to you why I live in this beautiful stretch of America.” He swept his arm toward the pastures.

“Yeah. Beautiful.” She sighed and swung her right leg over Sandy’s neck and let John ease her to the ground.

He wrapped his left hand around her right one and pulled her to the edge of the stream. “My family has lived on this property since around 1850. I think the Ericksons came a bit after. We’ve somehow managed to never intermarry with that lot. Thank God.” He added that last bit in a mumble. “Anyhow, you can thank the Mormons for luring us Swedes out here. My folks ended up ditching them on the trail west. They were starving and thought they could do better by themselves. Well, they didn’t know the country.”

“I would imagine.”

“Things got pretty dire for a while as they wandered through the Laramie Mountains. It was so dry and sparse and they were running out of reserves, but they kept moving because they thought dying while moving would be better than letting the buzzards pick them off. Eventually they started eating whatever they could forage. Roots. Grubs. The occasional snake and groundhog.”

“Risky.”

“No kidding.”

“So, what happened to them?”

“Believe it or not, some Arapaho traders actually led them to this place. Knew there’d be water here, and the occasional critter.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Legend has it that someone in Lundstrom party was knocked up earlier during the journey west by one of a group of mysteriously appearing Arapaho traders. Said she had snuck off one night somewhere in the Dakotas and kept sneaking off again and again each long stop they made.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. She ended up running off with them, and I guess in trade the Lundstroms didn’t get killed in their sleep for being Western expansionists.”

“Good story.”

He cocked his hat up so she could see the twinkle in his eye. “Not one I tell much, truth be told.”

“Ever think of living anywhere else?” she asked, already picking her way through the tall grass to retreat to Sandy. She’d seen enough of the stream and the grass around it being rustled by God-knows-what. “Or are you psychically bound here?”

He followed. “Nope. I guess I always grew up knowing it’d all fall on me one day and I didn’t have ambitions that lay anywhere else. Hopefully Landon will actually come back after college or else it’ll just be me and my energetic buddy Pete.” He helped Ronnie onto Sandy and grabbed the reins. “It’s not that bad a place to live, you know.”

“I’m sure it suits you, John.”

He mounted Midnight and clucked his tongue to get the small caravan moving. “Maybe it’ll suit you, too.”

She doubted it, but she held her tongue.

When they were about a quarter of a mile from the path head, he steered them off to the left.

“Where are we going?”

“Showing you where the guest house is.”

“Why’d you build it so far away from the main house and staff lodging?”

“If you’d ever met my in-laws, you’d understand.”

“Where are
your
parents?”

“My mother died about five years ago. Bad heart.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Sweetest woman you’d ever meet. My dad retired shortly after Mom died. He divides his years. Spends about half the year in Florida and half here. This year he decided to just hang out on the Keys for the summer. Didn’t want to do the traveling.”

“Can’t say I blame him.”

“Yep, he usually comes back for Thanksgiving, though.”

He led the horses to a small corral next to the house. She watched as he filled a trough with water from the installed tap. Once done, he locked up the gate and wrapped his left arm around her waist, guiding her toward the cottage. If it could be
called
a cottage, and Ronnie wasn’t sure. It was low and square and its stucco walls blended into the countryside, but installed into the slope of the roof were solar panels and several skylights. The finishings on the building, ranging from the shutters on the wide windows to the trim around the doors, appeared hand-cut. Craftsman, even. He slid the key into the lock and pushed his weight against the front door.

When he pulled her in, she found the open living space to be bright, clean, and although the furniture was simply made, it was rather exquisite.

“It’s lovely.” She broke away from him and fingered the detailing on an interesting little table positioned near the door. He dropped his keys onto it and hung his hat on the hook nearby. She did the same and when she caught sight of the mess her hair was in the mirror she was sorely tempted to put it back on, but he had taken her hand and pulled her farther into the room.

“Pet project.” He paused them in front of a wall panel where he flipped down the cover and pushed buttons until air started hissing up through the floorboard registers. “I think I might have gone to school to study design if it hadn’t been for the family business.”

“Planning on hanging out here for a while?” she laughed.

He didn’t answer. He just looked down at his watch and pulled her by the hand again down into a sunken living room and down a dark hallway. He didn’t bother turning on lights. He just kept her moving.

“Some tour,” Ronnie mumbled.

“Changing your mind about living here instead of at the Erickson place?”

“I never said that.” Although the thought had crossed her mind. The house looked small from the outside, but it had to be at least twenty-five hundred square feet. Living there all by herself would seem like a luxury far too rich for her.

“This house is just empty all the time?” she asked as he closed the door of the dark room he’d led them into.

“Mostly. Maybe one day Landon will move in or something.” He started unbuttoning his shirt, never once taking his eyes off her.

“Want to let me in on the plan here?”

“Veronica, please stop talking and take off your clothes.”

She gave him an unblinking stare. “Excuse me?”

He kept undressing. He peeled his flannel shirt down his arms and pulled his white undershirt over his head to reveal broad naked shoulders, biceps the size of grain silos, and a trim, muscled waist. His fingers went to his belt buckle, and she stared, transfixed on the golden digits as he pulled the metal rectangle loose from the hole and unbuttoned his jeans. He started unzipping, revealing dark gray fabric beneath. “Ronnie?”

“Hmm?” She finally managed to look at his face to find intensity in those blue eyes she knew had nothing to do with her enthusiasm for his guesthouse’s design.

“I’m trying to give you something to repent for tomorrow.”

Oh.