Spitfire Sweetheart: A Four Weddings and A Kiss Novella (5 page)

Maizy was afraid he’d fall as he hopped down the steps on his left leg. The hopping jostled his ribs. He groaned every time he landed and had to gather himself for the next step.

At last they made it. He closed the outhouse door, and she retreated to the back stoop and nearly collapsed on it. Her knees trembled more from worry than effort.

Maizy sat on that step, her knees primly together, her back straight. While she waited, she prayed.

For Rylan to heal straight and strong.

That he wouldn’t lose his ranch over her foolishness.

That God would forgive her.

She wanted Rylan’s forgiveness, too, and he’d given it. But how could he mean it when she couldn’t forgive herself?

She’d do whatever Rylan asked. And if her collar strangled her, or if it was awkward scrubbing floors in a dress, then she’d remember Jesus on the cross and how He’d suffered. Then she’d compare her own meager pain and endure it quietly.

A trace of peace crept through her as she prayed and thought on sacrifice, and when Rylan swung the door open, her knees were steady and her shoulders bore his weight as they limped back to the bed.

As slowly as he’d risen, Rylan lay down. She could see that his face had gone gray from the effort of moving.

Once he was back in bed, she rushed for a cool cloth and laid it on his forehead. Flickering his eyes open, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Then his eyes fell shut.

She stayed close and watched the tension ease from his face, hoping that meant the pain was going too.

At last his breathing deepened and became steady. A tiny, soft snore told her he’d fallen asleep. She sat by his side for an hour before she heard hoofbeats outside. Quickly, quietly, she rushed out to see Rawhide Engler riding up. She hurried to him and waited as he reined his horse.

The man looked exhausted and none too happy. He glared at her in a way that said he clearly knew his long hours were her fault.

“Rylan is asleep. I’ll bring you out a meal so we don’t wake him.” She didn’t wait for a response. She was pretty certain she didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

Rawhide would take care of his boss until Maizy came
back in the morning—though from Rylan’s enjoyment of her food and other things she’d done, Maizy could see Rawhide’s help was uncertain at best.

As she headed back toward the house and Rawhide reined his horse toward the barn, Maizy saw Pa driving up. She told Pa to please wait outside.

Then she got Rawhide his meal, checked sleeping Rylan one more time, and climbed aboard the buckboard, already wishing she was back with Rylan. He needed her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

R
YLAN WATCHED
M
AIZY SET TO WORK TRANSFORMING
his cluttered cabin into a tidy home. She’d been at it for two weeks now, and she’d worked hard every day, and still there was more to do. With a back entry room that was cluttered with junk and two bedrooms—one stacked with abandoned boxes Rylan had never even looked through—Maizy might be able to clean for months.

Now that she was here working on it, he was ashamed of himself for neglecting his home to this extent.

He’d have allowed himself to enjoy watching her work if each passing moment didn’t bring him closer to the day he was going to lose his ranch.

Every time he thought of it, he veered his mind away. He tried prayer, knowing God said not to worry.

Consider the lilies of the field.

Rylan pictured his big black cattle grazing on lilies when
they should be grazing on lush grass. Rylan hoped Rawhide was saving the good grass close to the ranch house for the last week.

Cast your cares upon the Lord.

When Rylan thought of the word
cast,
he only thought of the one on his leg.

Let
not
your
heart be troubled.

Oh, he was in big trouble. No doubt about it. That loan would be called in the day after his sale, and if there wasn’t money to pay it, the ranch was lost.

Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow
shall take thought for the things of itself.

Rawhide needed to move the big beeves tomorrow. Rylan was sure they’d discussed that, but Rawhide wasn’t a hardworking man—at least not as hardworking as Rylan needed him to be.

I will lift mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh
my help.

Rylan’s ranch had some grassy hills. He couldn’t remember if he’d told Rawhide about all the highland pastures or not.

Praying should help, remembering Bible verses should help. Rylan figured he must be doing it wrong because it was only making him worry more.

So he forced his thoughts from those worries and found himself watching every move Maizy made. That was another kind of madness.

Truth was, the little woman worked mighty hard and
got him everything he needed, often before he realized he wanted it.

He watched Maizy, kneeling, sorting through a stack of who-knew-what, knowing he’d be better off going back to worrying than entertaining wild thoughts about the very pretty Miss MacGregor. They’d taken to talking as she worked. It occupied Rylan’s mind.

She was full of stories of growing up like a cowhand. He talked about the upcoming sale, and sometimes that would lead him to talk of his childhood in Texas and how badly he wanted to make a go of ranching to make his father proud. Rylan tried not to share so many of his worries. She was so sympathetic it made him want to succeed all the more, and that made his fear of failing cut so deep he couldn’t stand it.

Then the sound of a wagon distracted him, like a gift straight from a merciful God.

And then he saw Parson Alden drive up in his buggy. God had sent a parson. Rylan must be more desperate than even he realized.

Maizy jumped to her feet to look out. “We’re not ready for company.”

It hit a chord deep in his chest to hear her say
we
. He shook off the strange feeling as he slowly eased himself to a sitting position. In the last few days his ribs had stopped the worst of their aching, but everything still hurt plenty.

Maizy looked around frantically as if she wished she could hide the clutter in the cabin. It looked so much better than the parson had ever seen it that Rylan nearly laughed. Yes, there
was still junk in the corners and plenty of stuff to clear out in the two small bedrooms. But she’d scrubbed every inch of floor as she uncovered it, and she’d gotten rid of all the cobwebs. It was a whole lot better than when she’d begun.

With a helpless shrug, she muttered, “He’ll just have to take us as we are.” Rolling the sleeves of her dress down, she buttoned them at her wrists as she went to the door and swung it open.

“Parson Alden.” None of her upset sounded in the friendly greeting.

“Maizy,” Rylan could hear the older man say, “the doctor said you’d stepped in to care for Rylan. I thought I’d come out for a visit.”

Rylan wasn’t good at church attendance. He was a believer, but he found Sundays to be as demanding on a ranch as every other day, and he’d let his worship time slip. He resolved to change that when he got well, if he didn’t lose his ranch and have to leave the area. Even if he did, he was sure he could find a church somewhere to spend time with other believers.

“It’s kind of you to come so far out to see us.” Maizy stepped back and waved him in. “Come out of the cold. The place is a mess. But I’ve baked cookies and I have coffee on.”

The stout parson’s eyes lit up at the mention of cookies. Smiling, he stepped in, drawing his flat-topped black parson’s hat off of his mostly bald head.

Maizy closed the door, then bustled about making the parson comfortable.

Rylan slowly swung his legs around to sit on the edge of
the bed. “Parson Alden, thanks for riding all this way out. I think I’m feeling up to joining you at the table.”

Maizy frowned. “If you’re sure you’re up to it.”

“I’m mighty tired of that bed.”

“I imagine you are.” Her sympathy was genuine. Rylan felt it all the way to his bones.

Maizy helped him to the table and eased him into a chair. Then she got them both coffee and a plate of sugar cookies.

“Maizy is a godsend, isn’t she, Rylan?”

“That she is, Parson Alden. And she’s doing her best to turn this neglected bachelor cabin into a tidy home. Caring for me slows her down, of course.”

“But that’s my main job.” Maizy smiled.

Rylan liked how it felt sitting there, talking to the parson, Maizy so generously pouring their coffee and serving the cookies she’d baked. It felt like a real home. It felt like a family.

He pictured Maizy here, permanently. His. He liked the idea so much it shocked him. And then he pictured her at his side when they got thrown off the land.

She’d stick by his side and he’d have to drag her off somewhere to find a new living, start all over again. Away from her pa. Possibly fail again. He felt himself frown. To get his mind off that disaster, he asked, “How are things in town?”

Thankfully, the parson was a talker. He entertained them with the outrageous goings-on in the rugged frontier town of Saurita. It wasn’t a friendly place for a man of God, but the parson had found a place for himself preaching among heathens.

By the time Parson Alden left, stuffed with cookies and
coffee, Rylan was visiting with Maizy so comfortably he stayed at the table. They went on talking while she worked. It was a pleasant afternoon and when she was leaving, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her pa was coming up to the door as he did every night to help get Rylan settled into bed. Maizy always waited outside with the horses. Each morning her pa came in and helped Rylan get dressed, and Maizy patiently waited. Rylan was exhausted after his first afternoon of sitting up, but he decided that tomorrow he might be able to dress himself, if Auggie would leave his clothes within reaching distance.

It was all part of Rylan starting to heal and get back to work. And when he did, she’d leave.

Rylan hated to see her go. But he knew if he talked her into staying permanently, he’d end up dragging her down with him when he failed. And that would hurt worse than broken ribs any day.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“W
HY DO YOU TUG AT YOUR COLLAR LIKE THAT
?” R
YLAN
asked.

His accident had happened a month ago. He wasn’t in a lot of pain anymore, if he didn’t move. It was the first of November and his sale was at the end of the month. The doc had been out yesterday and unwrapped his ribs. They hurt more but the doc said it was just a matter of time. Rylan had another two weeks with the cast on his leg, which would leave him only two weeks before the cattle sale.

“It’s just a little tight.” She hooked a finger under the collar again.

“Why don’t you wear one that fits?”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.” Maizy rose to her feet from where she knelt scrubbing the floor of his now-clean cabin. She did it so easily Rylan was swamped with envy. She really was a spry little thing.

“Just one? Why don’t you make yourself another? Your pa’s ranch is doing okay, isn’t it?”

Maizy waved a dismissive hand. “I haven’t had much use for dresses. And no time for sewing.”

“You could make yourself a dress here at my place . . .”

“I’m here to take care of you.”

“You’ve got things so tidied, you could spend some time sewing for yourself and still tend to me.”

She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the place. “It’s true I’m done sorting the clutter, but now I’ve started fall cleaning. I can keep busy for the next two weeks with no problem.”

“Fall cleaning? There’s different cleaning for the fall than other times of the year?”

She looked at him quizzically. He really didn’t know much about housekeeping, that was sure. “I didn’t expect you to do all this work, Maizy. You probably don’t even need to come over every day.”

And that made him feel so sorry for himself. What would he do without her company?
Get back to work,
the answer came. Most of his ranching was done from horseback. He might manage riding with a busted leg.

Maizy furrowed her brow and studied him, then went to her basin of water by the kitchen sink and wrung out a cloth. She brought it to his bedside and sat in a chair she’d stationed beside him. Sitting straight and proper, she rested the cool rag on his head.

“You’re worried about the sale, aren’t you?”

He was pretty sure he felt himself relaxing just because she was close. That worried him since nothing could come of it, but he couldn’t help enjoying the undivided attention. “My ribs are well enough and my leg barely hurts anymore. I might be able to sit a horse if I could figure out a way to mount up.”

Her mouth gaped open. “With your leg still in a cast? You most certainly will not! Why, Rylan Carstens, that is the most—”

“Ladies don’t yell.” He said it with such smug pleasure it was all he could do not to smile.

Maizy’s mouth clamped shut so hard her teeth clicked. She narrowed her eyes at him as if plotting revenge.

His smile almost escaped but he fought it. The truth was, he was feeling much better, but he was still a prisoner in this bed. Teasing Maizy, who was doing a fine job of being a lady, was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind.

Finally Maizy composed herself in what Rylan thought was her attempt to be polite and genteel. She looked like she wanted to strangle him. “So, tell me about this calf sale coming up?”

“Surely by now you’ve heard it all a dozen times.”

“I like hearing about your dream though. It’s nice. Tell me again.”

He liked to talk about his cattle—if he could keep from talking about all the work he had to do to make it happen. “The herd I drove in late last summer had two hundred Angus cows, all bred to an Angus bull. After they dropped their calves I had near two hundred of those shining black babies.
I’ve advertised far and wide, and gotten a lot of letters from ranchers saying they’re coming to the sale. I have land enough to grow my herd so I’ll keep about fifty of the heifer calves, but I have a hundred bull calves and fifty heifers I don’t need. If the sale goes well, I could get a lot of money for each calf. If it goes poorly—if no crowd shows up to bid against each other—I’ll lose my shirt, because I paid a hefty price for these Angus cows and the adult bulls.”