Cavanaugh Cowboy Page 5

  The moment she walked into the diner, she saw the person she needed to talk to.

  “Miss Joan, about that new guy you just sent me,” Rae said as she crossed to the counter that ran along the back of the diner.

  Miss Joan had just served one of her regular customers. She looked up the moment she heard her name. Despite the fact that she recognized the young woman’s voice, Miss Joan was still surprised to see Rae at the diner.

  Collecting herself, she assumed a dour expression as she asked, “What happened to ‘hello’?”

  “Hello,” Rae said with just a touch of impatience before she got back to her question. This time she phrased it differently. “What’s that’s guy’s story?”

  “What do you mean?” Miss Joan asked. Innocence did not look at home on the woman. The best she could do was display a poker face.

  Rae had a feeling that Miss Joan knew exactly what she meant, but she answered the question anyway. “He said he’s a police detective.”

  Miss Joan nodded. “That’s what I heard, yes,” she confirmed.

  Rae pressed her lips together. She was accustomed to having down-on-their-luck cowboys or wannabe cowboys working on the ranch as well as other men whose previous vocations were usually of the nondescript variety.

  The one thing the men all had in common was that they were just passing through Forever and the J-H Ranch because life had ridden roughshod over them.

  But even so, there appeared to be something rather different about this latest man who had popped up at the ranch.

  He wasn’t like the others.

  Miss Joan indicated the counter stool with her eyes, but Rae felt too wired to sit down.

  “Why would a police detective be out here?” Rae asked.

  “Maybe he just needed a little peace of mind,” Miss Joan suggested. “Police detectives are people, too, you know, Rae.”

  “I know that.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to gather strength. “Are you sure he really is a police detective? Did someone vouch for him?”

  “Yes,” Miss Joan answered simply.

  She wasn’t prepared to have Rae challenge her statement. “Who?”

  Miss Joan looked at her in stony silence for a moment before finally answering. “The best person I know outside of Harry,” Miss Joan assured her. “Why? Is there something about him that’s bothering you?”

  Rae shook her head. “He’s not the usual type who works on the ranch.”

  “As I recall, neither were you at first when I decided to put you in charge of the J-H,” Miss Joan reminded her foreman. “More than one person told me not to do it.”

  “That’s different,” Rae protested. “You knew me.”

  Miss Joan raised her eyes to Rae’s. “I didn’t put you in charge because I knew you. I did it because I had a gut feeling that you could do the job and that being in charge at the ranch was what you needed in your life to finally get you on the right track.”

  Rae wanted to argue with the woman, to insist again that it wasn’t the same thing. But Miss Joan had an aura about her that transcended logic, and she knew that almost better than anyone. When her father had died, leaving her alone, and she had felt so lost, so hopeless that she just couldn’t go on, it was Miss Joan who had been her lifeline. Miss Joan who had bullied her into not giving up and continuing to live.

  Maybe, in her own way, she was doing the same thing for this man, this police detective she had sent to her to work with.

  “And you have a gut feeling about this Sully?” Rae asked.

  “Let’s just say he’s not anyone that I’m going to be worried about when it comes to working out. Now, if you have a problem with him,” Miss Joan continued, looking at Rae intently, “I suggest you talk it out with him. Best way to resolve things,” she told the girl she had taken in and watched blossom over the years. She eyed Rae for a moment when the latter made no comment. “We okay?”

  “Yes, Miss Joan,” Rae replied dutifully. To try to go against the woman’s wishes would just be ungrateful.

  “All right then.” Miss Joan took out a pie that was in the display case and placed it on the counter. “Why don’t you take a piece of one of Angel’s pies with you and get back to overseeing the ranch while I get back to doing my job?” she suggested, slicing a piece of the peach cobbler on the counter and placing it into a small white container. Snapping the lid into place, she pushed the container toward Rae.

  Rae picked up the container and smiled her thanks at the woman. “I’ll have this after dinner.”

  “Warm it up. It’ll taste better that way. You might also think about sharing it,” Miss Joan added. “I cut a big enough piece for that.”

  Rae looked down at the container in her hand. She didn’t have to ask Miss Joan whom she wanted her to share the piece of pie with. That was silently implied.

  “Maybe I’ll do that,” Rae answered, not wanting to commit herself to anything one way or another.

  Turning on her heel, she made her way out of the semi-filled diner.

  Just who was this new man to Miss Joan? Was he a relative? A relative of a person who had once figured prominently in Miss Joan’s life? Miss Joan had said that the person who had vouched for Sully was someone she considered to be the most decent man she knew after her husband.

  Rae frowned to herself as she got into her truck. She tucked the container on the floor beneath the passenger seat.

  Her conversation with Miss Joan had raised more questions for her than answers. The one thing she was certain of was that she was going to approach this police detective with caution as she continued to assess the situation. She was determined to find an answer as to what someone like that was doing digging holes and putting up posts on a small, run-of-the-mill ranch instead of taking a vacation at some showy resort or, at the very least, some trendy beach in his home state.

  Something had made that man come out here, and she intended to find out what.

  Chapter 5

  “Is now a bad time?”

  Startled, Rae turned away from what she was doing to see Miss Joan’s husband standing in the kitchen doorway, peering in.

  “I knocked,” the mild-looking man explained politely, “but there was no answer, so I just let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Harry Monroe remained where he was in the doorway, waiting for a sign from the young woman that he could enter.

  Rae quickly wiped her hands on the dish towel that she kept slung over the back of a nearby chair and immediately crossed the floor to the man who was the closest thing she had to a grandfather. Harry Monroe just exuded kindliness.

  “This is your ranch house, Mr. Harry. You have absolutely every right to come in,” Rae told the man, although she had to admit that she was surprised to see him. Miss Joan’s husband didn’t normally come out to the ranch without calling ahead first.

  “Still, if you’re busy, I can come back,” he offered gently, pointing toward the outer door for emphasis.

  Rae laughed at that. “We’re always busy here, sir. But right now, I’m just putting our dinner on the table.” She gestured toward the table settings she had just finished putting out. Dinner had arrived, fully prepared, half an hour ago. Everything else had been stacked up in their oversize refrigerator. “Rosa’s a fantastic cook,” she interjected, referring to one of the young women Miss Joan currently had working at the diner, who had delivered the boxed-up meal. “She’s almost as good as Angel.”

  The man nodded in agreement, although it would have been a surprise to hear him disagree. No one in town could ever remember the man having anything bad to say about anyone.

  “That she is,” Harry said, then added, “If you’d like, Miss Joan can tell her to perhaps come out to the ranch during the week, prepare the meals here.”

  But Rae shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m just hap
py that Rosa stocks up the refrigerator when she comes.” The woman always left a week’s worth of prepared meals, not just for her but for the wranglers, as well. She didn’t know what she would have done without Rosa’s help. “I don’t like to cook very much,” she admitted.

  “You do more than enough out here already,” Harry assured her. “Trust me, Miss Joan and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.”

  While Rae liked being appreciated, compliments always made her feel uncomfortable, as if she didn’t know where to look or what to say.

  “You asked if this was a bad time,” she reminded the man. “Is this about that police detective Miss Joan sent to stay here?”

  Harry smiled at the way she’d phrased her question. “So you’ve discovered his background, have you?” the man surmised.

  She didn’t know if Harry thought it best if that remained a secret, but since she’d said it, she couldn’t very well take it back.

  “The topic came up,” Rae answered evasively.

  “So how’s he working out?” Harry asked her, his tone friendly as always.

  Rae decided that it was best just to remain factual. “Well, unlike the last two who came here, this one doesn’t seem to have an aversion to work. Or to getting dirty,” she added, thinking of the way Sully had looked earlier today the first time she’d checked on him. “As a matter of fact, from what I saw, he was doing a pretty good job putting up fence posts.” She kept her praise down to a reasonable level, not wanting Miss Joan’s husband to get the wrong idea. “And as you know, this isn’t the easiest dirt to dig in.”

  Mr. Harry laughed like a man who could attest to that firsthand. “Amen to that,” he answered. “So you got him settled in?”

  Rae went back to setting the table. She nodded in response to the man’s question.

  “He didn’t seem to have much, so when he finishes work for the day, he can put his stuff in the bunkhouse.” She noticed the rather puzzled expression on the older man’s face, but she kept on talking. “As you know, there’s plenty of room there.”

  “The bunkhouse?” Harry repeated. Rae nodded. Looking a little embarrassed, Harry cleared his throat, then ventured an observation. “I think there’s been a little miscommunication, Rachel. Miss Joan doesn’t want Sully staying in the bunkhouse.”

  She didn’t see what the problem was, or why. “That’s where the wranglers always stay.”

  “I know, but Sully’s the great-nephew of one of Miss Joan’s oldest, dearest friends,” he told Rae, adding, “That makes him family in her eyes.”

  Now it was becoming clear to her, Rae thought. She shifted uncomfortably. “And family doesn’t stay in the bunkhouse,” she concluded.

  Harry smiled, nodding at her, apparently glad that she understood. “No,” he agreed, “they don’t.”

  “Where do you want him to stay?” she asked cautiously, watching the man’s face—hoping he had some sort of alternative solution to the one that had popped up in her head.

  Harry seemed oblivious to the dilemma that had just been raised.

  “As I recall, this place has three bedrooms,” Mr. Harry began. When Rae made no comment, he prodded the discussion along. “Sully can sleep in one of the bedrooms that you’re not using.”

  This was getting to be really uncomfortable, Rae thought, but she couldn’t very well come out and say that to Mr. Harry. The ranch and the structures on it all belonged to him, and he could do anything he wanted with them as well as have whoever he wanted staying in them. She had no say in the matter.

  As if reading Rae’s mind, Harry said, “I know this arrangement might seem a little unusual to you, but I assure you that you don’t have anything to worry about. Sully comes from an excellent family.”

  “So did Cain before he killed Abel,” she murmured under her breath as she reached across the table to arrange the last place setting.

  “But I’m definitely nothing like Cain,” Sully said, walking in just behind Rae.

  Rae swung around, swallowing the surprised gasp that had risen in her throat. She did what she could to smother her startled expression.

  One look at Sully and it was obvious to anyone that he had been working hard for a good part of the day. There was dirt on his clothes and face, not to mention the scent of sweat coming from every inch of his body. Aside from looking exhausted, he carried himself like a man who had done more than an honest day’s work.

  In addition, he also looked rather satisfied with himself, Rae thought.

  Harry smiled broadly at the young man. Miss Joan had taught him not to stand on ceremony, but to seize the moment. He was still learning.

  “You must be Sullivan Cavanaugh,” Harry said, crossing to Sully with his hand extended.

  Sully returned the smile as he took the man’s hand in his and shook it.

  “I guess I must be,” he said by way of confirmation. “And I guess that you must be Miss Joan’s husband.”

  Rather than look annoyed at the label, Harry’s eyes crinkled as he laughed.

  “That’s probably going to be on my tombstone when I die,” he said. “‘Here lies Miss Joan’s husband.’”

  Rae took offense for the man, even though it appeared that Sully had meant no disrespect and Harry just took the whole thing in stride.

  Glaring at Sully, she informed him, “You do realize that the only reason you’re here is because Mr. Harry was kind enough to give his permission to take you in, right?”

  “I’m aware of that and I appreciate it,” Sully said, directing his answer toward the older gentleman. “Thank you, sir.”

  It was clear by Sully’s demeanor that while he remained polite, Rae did not intimidate him the way she managed to intimidate the other two wranglers, at least whenever she reprimanded them.

  Again Harry cleared his throat, as if that was a way to calm the situation down a bit.

  “I didn’t come here to rock any boats or rattle any cages,” he said when the two younger people looked at him. “Those are both Miss Joan’s purview,” he added with a soft, amused chuckle. “I just came to see how you were getting along, Sully.” And then he asked formally, “Is everything to your satisfaction?”

  The man was genuinely interested in his reply, Sully realized. For a split second, Sully caught himself feeling homesick. The second passed.

  “Everything is just fine,” Sully replied. “They’ll be even finer once I get out of these dirty clothes and take a shower.”

  “Then I won’t keep you,” Harry told him cheerfully. He looked at Rae. “Give him the room with the bathroom,” he advised.

  Sully looked from Rae to the man who had just spoken. He’d looked into the bunkhouse briefly, and what Harry had just said didn’t make any sense.

  “I don’t understand,” Sully said. “The bunkhouse isn’t divided into rooms—unless I missed something.”

  Rae did her best to hide her annoyance. “What you missed is that you’re not staying in the bunkhouse,” she informed Sully.

  Sully stared at her. “How’s that again?”

  “That was my mistake,” Harry said, speaking up to take the blame and clear the air. “Rachel thought we wanted you to stay in the bunkhouse when we sent you over.”

  “And you don’t?” Sully asked uncertainly.

  “Miss Joan would have my head if she found out that you were crowded in with those two other men,” Harry told him, laughing at his own expense.

  “I suppose she doesn’t want him working, either,” Rae surmised. Though she tried to suppress it, there was a less-than-happy note in her tone.

  Sully didn’t wait for Harry to answer. “I like to earn my keep,” he informed her.

  “And that’s what Miss Joan likes about you, boy,” Harry told him. “You don’t act like you think you’re entitled or privileged.”

&n
bsp; If she didn’t know any better, it seemed to Rae that her boss was directing his words toward her rather than just talking to Miss Joan’s unexpected guest. In either case, she resigned herself to the fact that she had her instructions.

  “I guess you’d better move your things out of the bunkhouse before you take that shower,” she told Sully. “Dinner’ll be on the table in half an hour. If you’re not here at the time, it’ll be put away.”

  “Understood,” Sully told her in a genial tone.

  Harry looked pleased with what he heard. “Well, looks like everything’s going well, so I’ll be going now,” he told Rae. “I’ll let Miss Joan know that you have everything under control—as usual,” the man added with a pleased smile.

  Sully waited until the older man had left before he turned toward Rae. She half expected him to say something snide, because it was obvious that he had Miss Joan’s blessings in this matter.

  Instead, she heard him tell her, “I can stay in the bunkhouse.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Why would you do that?”

  In her opinion, anyone would jump at the opportunity to move into a better living situation if they had the chance. Why was Sully willing to turn it down and share his quarters with two strangers?

  “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Sully began. “After all, you were here first.”

  Rae’s back instantly went up. It always did whenever she thought she was being offered charity or was being looked down on. Did he think she was afraid he would try something? She could defend herself very well, thank you very much.

  “Why would you think that having you staying in the main house would make me uncomfortable?” she demanded angrily.

  “Then it doesn’t?” Sully asked her.

  She couldn’t tell if he was being on the level or playing her, but she wasn’t about to take a chance.

  “No,” Rae snapped.