The Rancher Takes a Cook (7 page)

As he neared the river, Jacob slowed the
horse to a walk and peered through the thicker brush where the
longhorns liked to hide. Bordering the woods were scrawny oaks and
eucalyptus trees with cow-itch vine and more weeds than he could
count growing up around and between them. He was so focused on
scanning through the trees to his right, he almost missed the horse
and rider on his left next to the river’s edge.

“Hello,” Miss Stewart’s soft voice came from
atop the Appaloosa mare he’d learned to ride on all those years
ago. She appeared comfortable in the saddle, with the late morning
sun illuminating her face.

Something in his chest tightened. “Howdy.”
He touched the brim of his hat and reined in Marshall. The last
thing he wanted was to hang around this woman in such a secluded
area, but he couldn’t simply ignore her. They might live on a ranch
in the middle of Texas, but Pa had taught him decent manners.

“You lost out here?” His voice was a bit
brusquer than he’d intended, but his defenses rose in an effort to
maintain his distance. She was a pretty thing to be sure, with
those piercing brown eyes and long dark lashes hiding under the
brim of her bonnet. Her worn brown dress didn’t do much to disguise
her slender waist or the fact that she curved in all the right
places.

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me,” she said with
a sheepish grin. “This is my favorite spot by the river. I like to
come here after morning chores any chance I get. I’ve never known a
place so peaceful.”

The shy smile she displayed softened Jacob’s
resolve a tiny bit. He nodded in acknowledgement and stared off
across the river. “It’s a nice spot. One of the prettiest on the
Guadalupe.”

“Is that the river’s name? The Guadalupe?”
She let the word roll across her tongue, as if tasting it for
flavor. It came out in a rhythmic melody, like the sound the river
made as it flowed over rocks a little further downstream.

He spoke before his mind realized what his
mouth was doing. “I used to swim here when I was a boy. Ma would
bring lunch and we’d have a picnic, just the two of us.” So many
times Jacob had gone back to those memories. The familiar ache
tugged at his chest.

“It sounds like you had a wonderful mama.”
Miss Stewart’s voice broke into his reflections. He glanced at her
earnest expression, but there wasn’t sympathy there, only
understanding. She’d lost her mother, too. Could she help bear his
burden? Jacob turned away from her intense gaze. Time to get this
conversation back in a less
emotional
direction.

“So I hear your brother has the makings of a
pretty good cowhand.”

Her face brightened at his words. “Do you
think so? Monty says he’s learning faster than most, but he’s just
a boy still.”

Jacob leveled her with a strong look. “He’s
fifteen years old. And in Texas, that’s old enough to be a man and
then some. The boys say he’s doin’ a fine job learnin’ to rope, and
he seems to have a way with the ornery cattle. His demeanor is
calming so animals aren’t afraid of him.”
Much like you,
Jacob added to himself. “You should be real proud of him.”

Anna’s expression turned soft as he spoke
and pride shone in her eyes. “He is good with animals, isn’t he?
Just like Papa was.” The last part was spoken so softly he almost
missed it.

“Your Pa is…gone?” He regretted the words as
soon as they left his mouth. He didn’t want to know anything about
this woman. Not at all.

“He died fighting Sherman’s army after they
burned our home in Columbia.” A touch of bitterness tinged her
voice, and he could tell the wound was still raw. No wonder,
though. After losing both parents and her home, she was an
orphan.

He mumbled, “I’m sorry.” Jacob had never
been good with words, and his mind didn’t seem to be ready to
change that fact now. But Anna seemed to understand what he meant
to say as she gazed at him with those liquid, amber-brown eyes.

Then, her demeanor changed as she squared
her shoulders and raised her chin. “I’m glad Edward’s doing well.
He’s always been a quick learner, and he’ll work hard for you.”
Gathering her reins, Anna sighed. “I suppose it’s time for me to
head back. Today’s laundry day.” She gave him a wry grin.

He was about to let her go, then remembered
the barking he’d heard that morning. “There’s coyote in the area.
Did you bring a gun?”

She raised a dark eyebrow at him. “No, I
didn’t think I’d need one.”

He shot her a scowl. “You
always
need
a gun out here. Ya never know what animals you’ll come across. Men,
too. With all the soldiers coming home from the east, you never
know who you’ll meet up with. And not all of them are honorable.” A
surge of protectiveness rose in him toward this woman—barely more
than a girl—who had lost so much. “Even if you can’t shoot a gun,
you should at least carry it.”

Her back stiffened. “Of course I can shoot a
gun.”

He ignored the look of indignation she shot
him. “Then you’d better start carrying one. I’ll ride back with you
as far as the herd.” Without looking at her, he turned Marshall and
started in the direction of the cattle. His skin tingled from the
daggers she was likely shooting at the back of his head, but he
didn’t stop. Stubborn woman. She couldn’t see what was good for her
if it bit her on the nose.

After a moment, the thud of Bandita’s hooves
sounded behind him. His tone had been harsh. Should he apologize?
But he was just trying to protect her. He slowed Marshall enough to
allow them to catch up. Anna rode beside him without speaking. Her
posture in the saddle was excellent. She didn’t ride side-saddle
like most city girls but sat astride, the extra material in her
dress covering her legs and draped across the mare’s rump.

The silence was stiff between them, and at
last he made an effort toward a truce.

“How do you like ’Dita?” he asked, nodding
toward the Appaloosa mare.

Anna’s shoulders relaxed, and some of the
tension left her face. “She’s wonderful.” She reached down to rub
the mare’s neck. “She’s so responsive to the touch and loves to
move out as much as I do.”

He bit back a grin. It seemed he’d found a
topic she was enthusiastic about. He nodded. “She’s the horse I
grew up riding. She taught me how to cut calves, and we had more
than a couple good runs. She’s a fast one for sure.”

Anna cut him a sideways look, a mischievous
gleam in her eye. “This is usually the spot where we get to
canter.”

A grin tickled his jaw. “Well don’t let me
hold you back.” But she was off before he finished speaking. Jacob
gave Marshall his head and a hard squeeze, and the gelding
responded with a forward leap, as eager to catch the mare as Jacob
was. He allowed the grin to break loose.

Anna held Bandita to a steady canter, and he
soon caught up. They stayed in an even lope until the herd of
longhorn came into sight. Reining the horses back to a walk, Anna
let out an exhilarated breath. “Boy, that felt good.”

This captivating woman drew him despite the
call of his work. But the other cowboys had already stopped to gawk
at them with curious stares.

“Thank you for the escort, Mr. O’Brien. I’ll
bid you good day now.”

“Mr. O’Brien is my pa. Ya might as well call
me Jacob like everyone else does.”

She hesitated, her eyes clouding so he
couldn’t read her expression. Was she too uppity to use his
Christian name? She’d need to get over that, because on the ranch
common sense ruled. They had more to worry about than whether or
not it was proper for her to use his first name.

Finally, a weak smile touched her lips. “I
suppose it wouldn’t hurt. It will make things less confusing, to be
sure.” And with that she squeezed Bandita into a jog, calling over
her shoulder, “Goodbye, Jacob.”

He couldn’t help but sit there and gaze
after her. This woman was so different than anyone he’d ever met.
She was a mixture of caring and spunk, innocence and strength. He
didn’t know quite what to think of her. He’d been so careful not to
get himself wrapped up with anything that would detract from his
work on the ranch. And if anything could be a distraction, a female
would be.

* * *

At church the next Sunday, Anna sat in her
usual seat between Aunt Lola and Edward. The only difference was
Jacob’s rich tenor voice that wafted to her from the older woman’s
other side as they sang the opening hymn:

When peace like a river attendeth my
soul,

When sorrows like sea billows roll,

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to
say,

“It is well, it is well with my soul.”

The words washed through Anna like a rain as
she added her clear alto harmony. Throughout the sermon, she kept
going back to the words of the hymn.
It is well with my soul, no
matter what. Lord, please teach me to trust in You, so I can say in
any circumstance it is well with my soul.

After the service, Anna stood under a pecan
tree in the church yard with her little clan of cowboys. Mr.
O’Brien and Aunt Lola greeted an older couple from one of the
ranches north of town. Juan recounted a story for Edward from a
church he’d attended in Mexico. A hand touched Anna’s arm. Turning,
she expected Aunt Lola’s wrinkled smile, but instead found a wide
grin on the face of a little blonde slip of a woman, just a few
years older than Anna.

“Hello,” the woman began in a bubbly voice.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I just had to introduce myself. I’m
Virginia Wallace. We live on the farm just past the Double Rocking
B. I’ve seen you at church the last couple o’ weeks and have been
dyin’ to meet you.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Wallace. I’m
Anna Stewart.”

“Oh, call me Virginia. Or better yet, Ginny.
And over there talking to Reverend Walker is my husband, Everett,
with our little girl, Katie. She’s a handful, that one, but such a
joy, too.” Ginny glowed with motherly pride as she talked of the
girl.

“She does look precious.” Anna smiled at the
young mother. “How old is she?”

“She’s three now but will be four by the
time the new little one arrives.” Ginny rubbed her slightly
expanded mid-section, a hint of pink rising to her cheeks. “Should
be sometime in January.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Anna touched the
woman’s arm.

Ginny grabbed Anna’s hand in return and gave
her a delighted smile. “Oh, I just know we’re going to be good
friends. It gets lonely out on the farm, so it’ll be so nice havin’
someone my age within riding distance. I hear you and your brother
are working on the Double Rocking B?”

Anna laughed at the petite woman’s
exuberance. “Yes, I do the cooking there and Edward is one of the
cowboys. It’s a new venture for us both, but we’ve settled in.”

“I’m so glad to hear it. Well, I need to run
now. Everett’ll be hungry and it’s a long ride home. See you soon.”
As the little blonde magpie hurried off, Anna smiled to herself. It
would be so nice to have a friend and neighbor like Ginny.

The next few days flew by as Anna consumed
herself with her work. She was determined to make her meals the
best they could be—the highlight of the men’s days. She scoured her
memory for every dish her mother or neighborhood women had made. As
her repertoire grew, Anna began experimenting with food mixtures
and seasonings. Most of the men had grown up in Mexico, where the
food was cooked with peppers and strong spices. The first time she
fixed tamale pie for the men, they responded with such impassioned
thankfulness that her heart grew two sizes.

The next day, Anna prepared Arroz con Pollo
for supper. She had spent hours in the preparation, seasoning the
tomato sauce to just the right flavor and hovering over the chicken
so it boiled to the perfect tenderness. She hoped the men would
find the taste satisfactory.

After Mr. O’Brien’s prayer came the typical
mad scramble to fill plates and scarf down food. As the men took
their first bites, Anna held her breath and searched the faces
around the table to catch their expressions. Many were so
weather-worn they took on the appearance of dark, wrinkled leather,
making them harder to read than an Indian chief.

Juan was the first to speak. In a hushed,
reverent tone he declared, “Senorita, will you marry me?”

Every noise in the room ceased except for
Anna’s sharp gasp. The tough leather around Juan’s eyes crinkled
and his cheeks creased to reveal dimples as big as valleys. The
dark brown skin made his coffee-darkened teeth appear a stark
white. “The food you make is so magnificent. I only think to pay
you the highest honor I know. You make magic en la cocina,
Senorita.”

There was a general murmur of agreement as
the cowboys went back to devouring their food, but Anna’s cheeks
burned as hot as the fire she’d used to cook the meal. She glanced
at Jacob. His deep blue eyes penetrated her. She couldn’t read his
expression, a mixture of approval and something else…it looked
almost like jealousy but couldn’t be. She wasn’t sure what emotions
she read there, but they held her captive for several seconds
before she found the strength to look away.

Just then, a crash of thunder reverberated
through the room. Anna must have jumped six inches from the
surprise of it. She placed a hand over her racing heart.

“It’s going to be a rough one this time,”
Paco announced in his lilting Mexican accent. “The wind, she was
strong.”

As if he had summoned it, a distant shriek
of wind called from outside the sturdy walls. With that howl
echoing through the room, the buoyant mood changed to a somber
scene. The men went back to eating, heads down and food shoveling
into their mouths as if this was to be their last meal.

Another crack of thunder broke just as a
flash of light illuminated through the doorway into the kitchen.
For once, Anna was thankful there weren’t any windows in the dining
hall. Storms had never bothered her before, but these cowboys
gulped their food with pinched brows. Every thunder clap seemed to
add urgency to their movements. They were more familiar with Texas
storms than she was, so if they were worried, shouldn’t she be
concerned, too?