Winning the Widow’s Love

Rex Billings hires young widow Callie Deviner as a housekeeper to help care for his ailing father and rambling home. He only intends to run Straight Arrow Ranch temporarily—soon enough he’ll head back to the city he loves. But there’s something about Callie—and it’s not just her delicious cooking and adorable baby daughter. Callie is drawn to her good-looking and protective boss, too, but her overbearing dad already has a new husband picked out for her. Can she stand up to her father, and make Rex see that her future lies within his arms?

“Bodie can sleep on the ride back.”

“Let me take her,” Rex offered. “The brim of my hat will give her some shade.”

Callie looked down at her sleepy baby. “All right.”

He tightened the cinches on the saddles again while Callie fashioned a sling for her daughter. Bodie whimpered a mild protest as they slung her sideways against Rex’s chest, her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, but then she reached up a little hand and laid it against his throat, as if feeling the beat of his pulse was all she needed to lull her to sleep.

Callie heard herself whisper, “She loves you.”

“I love her, too,” Rex said softly. He looked up then, his blue eyes as pale and warm as the summer sky. “I’ll miss the two of you if you leave the ranch.”

If, not when. Confused, Callie dared not reply to that. Anything she said would lay bare her heart, and that simply was not wise.

ARLENE JAMES has been publishing steadily for nearly four decades and is a charter member of RWA. She is married to an acclaimed artist, and together they have traveled extensively. After growing up in Oklahoma, Arlene lived thirty-four years in Texas and now abides in beautiful northwest Arkansas, near two of the world’s three loveliest, smartest, most talented granddaughters. She is heavily involved in her family, church and community.

The Rancher’s

Homecoming

Arlene James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

But when you do a charitable deed,

do not let your left hand know what your

right hand is doing, that your charitable deed

may be in secret; and your Father who sees

in secret will Himself reward you openly.

—Matthew 6:3–4

In memory of my dad, William Fred “Bill” Roper, who taught me that country men are strong, resilient, capable, patient, accepting, funny, interesting, knowledgeable, talented, intelligent, clever, kind, neighborly and loving. I miss you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Never let it be said that God did not answer prayers. Callie Deviner’s answer walked into the War Bonnet Café on the morning of the last Thursday in May, ordered breakfast, which he wolfed down with three cups of black coffee, then calmly announced to all within hearing distance that he was looking for a live-in cook and housekeeper.

Callie set aside the heavy metal spatula she was holding and pushed a wisp of fine blond hair from her forehead with the back of her wrist before speaking to the freckle-faced teenager at the grill beside her.

“Fill this next order. I have to go out front.”

The teen boy gaped at her. Johnny had been working at the café for more than six months and knew his way around a grill, but the regular cook, Chet, who was out with a toothache and as set in his ways as her father, still hadn’t trusted the kid to do more than dish up fries and make toast. Callie ignored the youngster’s sputtered assurances and moved toward the swinging metal door that separated the kitchen from the dining room, sweeping the hated net from her short hair as she did so.

Tucking the hairnet into the pocket of her apron with one hand and fluffing her bangs with the other, she moved swiftly behind the counter, past the middle-aged waitress, Jenny, and came to stand directly behind the tall, brown-haired man in the worn plaid shirt.

“Did I hear you say you were looking for a cook and housekeeper?”

His elbows slipped from the counter, and he spun on the stool to face her, his pale blue gaze quickly sweeping over her. He looked oddly polished despite that worn shirt. Without it, she’d have pegged him for a city boy, though she judged him to be in his thirties.

“That’s right. For my father. We need someone live-in, as soon as possible. Dad’s ill, and I’ve come to help out. My sisters will be along as soon as they can arrange it, but that could be several weeks, and until then, we’ve got to have help.”

“Who is your dad?”

“Wes Billings.”

“Oh. Out at Straight Arrow Ranch.”

“That’s right.”

“I had heard that Wes was ill.”

“Very ill, I’m afraid.”

A murmur of condolence went around the room. Wes was well thought of around War Bonnet, Oklahoma. He was known to be a fair, honest, upright Christian man willing to help a neighbor in need. This had to be Rex Billings, Wes’s son. He was quite a bit older than Callie, eight or ten years, so she didn’t really know him. Even in a town as small as War Bonnet, that many years apart in school practically guaranteed they’d be strangers unless they both stayed in town, and to her knowledge Rex had never returned after leaving for college, except perhaps to visit.

He swept the room with his gaze, sending curious diners back to their own business. Callie inched closer, lowering her voice.

“I’ll certainly do all I can for Wes. As for the position, how much are you thinking of paying?”

Rex quietly named a weekly figure that made Callie’s heart leap with joy. Even two or three weeks at that rate would help her and her daughter, Bodie, get out of her father’s house at last. She motioned to the empty plate on the counter in front of him.

“You might be interested in knowing that I cooked your breakfast. Two eggs over easy, bacon, very crisp, and flapjacks. Right? How’d I do?”

Billings grinned and parked both elbows on the counter again, one on either side of his plate. “Eggs were perfect. Flapjacks nearly floated off the plate. I like my bacon crisp to the edge of burnt, but that’s just me. When can you start?”

“That depends,” she said, sending up a silent prayer. “I have a six-month-old daughter. Will that be a problem?”

Rex Billings tilted his head. His thick, medium-brown hair, she noticed, had been expertly cut and styled. He wore it without a part and, even mussed, it looked adorable. Pretty much everything about him made a woman look twice, from his straight nose to his square jaw and chin. He had recently shaved; she could still smell the shaving cream. But already she could see the dark shadow of his beard beneath his evenly tanned skin. It was his eyes that did it, though. Pale blue and gem bright, as if backlit by tiny lightbulbs from within.

“Women with babies have been cooking and cleaning for millennia,” he said from behind a smile. “We have space for the both of you, especially if you don’t mind sharing a room.”

“Not at all.”

“I can’t imagine Dad would object. He knows you, doesn’t he?”

“He does. He’s known me my whole life.” Callie reached around behind her and started untying her apron. “I can start right now, if you want.”

“Works for me,” he said, pushing up to his full height, which she judged to be at least a couple inches over six feet. His jeans, in contrast to his shirt, looked to be brand-new. “I suppose I ought to least get your name, though.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Callie laughed, lifting the apron’s neck piece off over her head. “It’s Callie Deviner. Everyone just calls me Callie.”

“Callie Deviner. Pleased to meet you.” He put out his big hand. She quickly shook hands with him. “I’m Rex Billings.”

“Yes, I figured that, since Wes has just the one son.”

He tilted his head again, those pale blue eyes holding her gaze. “Shouldn’t I know you, too?”

“I went to school with your sisters. You were long gone when I came on the scene.”

“Ah. I suppose that’s true. Meredith is ten years younger than me, so...”

“I’m Ann’s age,” Callie supplied. “Twenty-eight.”

“Still, that’s eight years,” he said. “I was already practicing law by the time you graduated high school.”

A lawyer. Wes must be very proud. She frowned then, wondering what ailed Wes. The sooner she got to the ranch, the sooner she’d know.

“Just let me get my things so we can go,” she said.

He glanced around. “You sure it’s all right to leave like this?”

“I’m just filling in. Off-the-books. It’s fine.”

“Okay, then.” He nodded decisively, and she carried her apron toward Jenny.

The blocky, chatty waitress looked around in surprise when Callie thrust the thick, white apron into her hands, saying, “I’m leaving now, Jenny.”

“Leaving?” Jenny echoed. “Who’s gonna cook?”

“Johnny can handle it.”

“But—”

“I don’t actually work here,” Callie reminded the woman, who followed her into the back room. “I’m not even being paid. It isn’t as if you can fire me. I’m just helping out.”

“Your daddy—”

“Will get over it,” Callie said softly. Or not. Either way, she was going with Rex Billings. “You let me worry about that.”

“Chet will be beside himself,” Jenny hissed.

Callie ignored her, taking her handbag from the locked cabinet and tossing Jenny the key. “I won’t be needing this again.”

One more thing she wouldn’t need to do again was put up with Ben Dolent and her father’s heavy-handed matchmaking. Ben wasn’t a bad man, just a dull, unattractive one who happened to be the manager of her father’s grain silo, a willing pawn of her father’s, doing whatever he was told without question. Sometimes Callie thought that if she had to endure one more evening of his company she would explode.

“Stuart is not going to be happy about this,” Jenny warned, but Callie couldn’t remember when her father had last been happy about anything, especially not where she was concerned. She knew he meant well, but financial security was not the only important thing in life, and her father had no right to decide whom she would marry and where she would live. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to make him understand that. The more she talked, the more he restricted her access to funds and threw Ben Dolent at her.

“Do me a favor, Jenny,” she said softly. “Don’t call my father yet.”

“I have to, girl! He owns this place.”

“Just give me a couple hours then. That’s not too much to ask, is it? How often have I helped you out?”

Jenny’s lips, red with her favorite lipstick, flattened, but then she nodded, muttering, “It’s about to get real busy around here.” She glared at Callie. “You couldn’t have picked a worse time to up and leave. I don’t know where all these folks are coming from. It’s a phenomenal, is what it is, a phenomenal.”

“Phenomenon,” Callie corrected gently. Smiling, she patted Jenny’s arm as she left the small room. “Thanks, Jenny. I appreciate it.”

Callie walked out into the dining room, the strap of her roomy handbag slung over one shoulder, and smiled at Rex Billings, the tall, handsome lawyer.

“I’m all yours.”

The way his pale blue gaze raked over her, from the top of her shaggy blond head to the toes of her cheap athletic shoes, suddenly made her wish that she’d phrased that differently, but then he smiled and lifted an arm in invitation.

“After you.”

* * *

It didn’t hit Rex until she pointed to the tall, redbrick house in the center of the block exactly whom he had hired.

“You’re Stuart Crowsen’s daughter.”

She turned wide, glade-green eyes on him, seeming almost frightened. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t realize, that’s all.”

“Because of my married name,” she concluded, nodding.

He turned the six-year-old pickup truck into the drive and brought it to a stop. His own silver, two-seater sports car sat under a protective cloth cover beneath a tree behind his dad’s house. “I take it you’re divorced.”

“No.” The sadness in that one word said it all.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, killing the engine and letting out the clutch. “Divorced is no picnic, but widowed has to be worse.”

“You’re divorced, then?”

“Yeah.” He sighed and rubbed a finger over his eyebrow. “No kids, so at least we didn’t mess up innocent lives.”

It turned out that catching the boss’s daughter cheating on him had an upside, even if she was your own wife. Rex had ended his relationship with his former law firm, not to mention his marriage with the senior partner’s daughter, over eight months ago. Given the situation, Rex had been offered a very generous severance package. That had given him the freedom to come back to War Bonnet and help out with the ranch while his dad fought to recover his health.

“I’d just found out I was pregnant when Bo died,” Callie told Rex softly. “Bodie will never know him, and he never saw her, but I thank God that I have her.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a rough time of it.”

“Mmm, well, no one’s sick. Mind if I ask what’s wrong with your dad?”

“Cancer. They removed a piece of his liver and some lymph glands, but at least it wasn’t in his pancreas or bile ducts. He’ll have to undergo chemotherapy when he’s stronger, which is why my sisters and I are coming home for a while. This is a busy season at the ranch, and he just can’t manage on his own. With Mom gone, it’s up to us.”

“I remember when your mom died,” Callie said. “It was a big shock. I don’t think anyone realized she had a heart condition.”

“No one,” Rex confirmed. “It was a birth defect. All us kids had to be tested for it afterward. Thankfully, none of us have the problem, but I think that’s why Meredith became a nurse.”

“I wondered about that. Meri never said anything about wanting to be a nurse when we were girls.”

“I didn’t know you were that close.”

“We hung out some.”

Callie reached for the door handle. “I’ll be as quick as I can. There’s a portable crib in the garage. Also some boxes and tape. I used them when Bodie and I moved in a few months back. If you want to help out, you can put the crib in the truck while I tape up the boxes. Then we’ll go inside.”

“That’ll work.”

They walked into the garage via a side door. Callie pulled out the crib and Rex carried it out to the truck. When he returned to the garage, she had four midsize moving boxes put together. She handed him two and took two in her hands before leading the way through the side door.

“Most of my clothes are on hangers,” she said, stepping up into a pristine kitchen. “Bodie’s things will fit in two boxes.”

“You been keeping house for your dad?” he asked, glancing around.

“Almost my whole life,” she confirmed. He nodded to himself. Okay, she could cook and clean. “Don’t worry,” she added. “He can afford to hire help.”

That worked for Rex. “Just take what you need for now. We can come back later for anything else.”

She turned and faced him. “I’d rather take it all if you don’t mind. There really isn’t that much.” Nervously, she sifted her fingers through her short, silky bangs.

He’d always preferred women with long hair, but Callie’s wispy, chin-length blond hair suited her oval face. He liked her somewhat pointy chin. It looked good on her, as did the form-hugging jeans and the simple, short-sleeved T-shirt that she wore. She looked strong and fit, curving in all the right places. Everything about her felt completely genuine.

Rex realized that he was staring and, to cover his lapse, blurted out, “What color is that shirt?”

She looked down at her shirt. “What?”

“I can’t figure out if it’s orange or pink,” he said with a chuckle.

Her green eyes—the color of leafy trees sparkling in the sunlight—rolled upward, and pink lips without a trace of lipstick widened in a smile. “It’s melon.”

He grinned. “Whatever you say.”

Smiling, she crooked a finger at him. “Come with me.”

“Lead on.”

They walked through a formal dining room and into an entry hall, where a staircase led up to the second floor. A plump, grandmotherly woman with tightly curled, iron gray hair appeared on the landing above them.

“Callie? Shouldn’t you be at the café?”

“Not today, Mrs. Lightner. Has Bodie had her bottle?”

“She has, as well as a bath and a fresh diaper. I was just about to dress her when I heard you come in.”

“That’s wonderful. You’re a blessing, Mrs. Lightner. Would you finish dressing her for me?”

The elderly woman frowned, her brows meeting behind her large, thick glasses. Rex figured he knew what the problem must be. He set down the boxes.

“Are you the Mrs. Lightner who used to teach me in Sunday school and give my sisters Meredith and Ann piano lessons?”

Those eyebrows went up. “Meredith and Ann? You must be Rex Billings.”

“That’s right.” Smiling, he stepped up onto the landing and hugged the woman. “I wasn’t sure at first, ma’am. I thought you were older.”

Tittering and fluffing her hair, she actually blushed. “Really?”

“You know how it is,” he said, grinning at her. “Kids think anyone over twenty is ancient. You couldn’t have been much older than thirty back then.” She’d been fifty if she’d been a day, but he’d learned to schmooze at the best law firm in Tulsa.

“Oh, go on,” Mrs. Lightner said with a giggle. “You always were a scamp.”

“I suppose I was,” he admitted good-naturedly. “I’m glad to see you, though. I’ll be sure to tell Dad.”

She sobered then. “How is Wes? I heard he wasn’t doing too well.”

Rex nodded. “It’s been tough. The surgery was hard on him, but my sisters and I are going to take good care of him.”

“You tell him I’m praying for him.”

“Yes, ma’am. We appreciate that.”

“I’ll be in to take over in a just a moment, Mrs. Lightner,” Callie said. Then she crooked her finger at Rex again. “This way.”

Mrs. Lightner still frowned, but she went off to dress Bodie while Rex picked up the boxes and followed Callie into another room. The place had a faded, girlish feel about it. Callie wasted no time packing her belongings quickly and efficiently. Within minutes, Rex began carting boxes and bundles of clothing down to the truck. He returned to find Mrs. Lightner standing in the doorway, the baby in her arms and a thunderous expression on her face.

“What on earth is going on here?”

“Didn’t I say?” Callie replied smoothly, never slowing her movements. “Mr. Billings needs my help until his daughters arrive.”

Sensing a battle on the horizon, Rex quickly surveyed the field and decided on a course of action. Sliding past Mrs. Lightner, he took a quick glance at the baby and carried the suitcases that Callie had packed downstairs. He heard the argument erupt behind him.

“You can’t do that!”

“But I must, Mrs. Lightner. Wes Billings desperately needs help.”

Rex didn’t linger to hear more. The sooner he got Callie Deviner out of there and to the ranch, the better for all concerned. He returned to find Callie in the nursery tossing baby things into a box while Mrs. Lightner rocked a babbling pink bundle who seemed determined to snatch glasses from teary eyes.

“I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” Mrs. Lightner said in a tone that clearly indicated the very opposite.

“We’ll be fine,” Callie promised, closing the box. “Thank you for your concern.” She glanced up at Rex then, sliding the box across the carpet toward him. “We really have to go.”

“Yes, I don’t want to leave Dad any longer than I must,” he stated honestly. “One of the ladies from church is sitting with him, but she has to leave soon.”

Callie slid another box toward him, then shouldered an overstuffed diaper bag and stood, turning to the rocking chair. Mrs. Lightner sighed as Callie gathered the baby into her arms. Dipping, Callie snagged the top of a large plastic bag of disposable diapers.

Rex stacked and picked up the boxes. They felt surprisingly light, so he took the diapers from Callie.

“If you’ve got all that,” she said, “I can grab the car seat from the closet downstairs.”

“What about the rest of these things?” he asked, nodding at the elaborate stroller and the padded playpen, the changing table and canopied baby bed.

“Leave them,” Callie instructed briskly.

He didn’t have to be told twice. “Okay, then. Let’s move.”

Within minutes they were packed into the truck, and Callie was hugging Mrs. Lightner in the driveway.

“Go on home now, Mrs. Lightner,” he heard her say, “and thanks again for everything.”

“But your father...” Mrs. Lightner said.

“Don’t worry. Just head on home.”

As they backed out of the driveway, Rex couldn’t help asking, “Everything okay?”

Callie smiled and glanced over her shoulder at the baby before settling into her seat with a satisfied sigh. “It is now.”

Rex wondered why she seemed so anxious to take this job, but he was too glad of the help to care. The sooner his dad was on the mend, the sooner he could get back to his real life. The sooner everyone could get back to their real lives, him, his sisters, their dad, even Callie Deviner.

Hiring the daughter of the wealthiest man in War Bonnet as a cook and housekeeper did seem odd, but Rex didn’t really care what the pretty little widow’s reasons were for taking this job. He had to give her this: she was a decisive woman, and she traveled light and fast.

He could’ve done worse. Casually looking over at her, he smiled.

Oh, yes. He could have done much worse.

Chapter Two

Wes greeted Callie and her little daughter, Bodie, with the brightest smile Rex had seen in weeks.

“I’m tickled pink to be here,” Callie told him. “You just don’t know. Now, I’m going to get the baby down for a nap, clean that kitchen floor and start on your lunch.”

“Ah, I don’t have much appetite,” Wes said, picking at the coverlet on his bed.

“Listen, you,” Callie threatened teasingly, “I have your wife’s recipe for pimento cheese, and I’m not afraid to use it. I’m counting on there still being jars of the pimentos she put up in the pantry.”

Wes’s eyes filled with tears as he beamed. “I never knew what to do with them.”

“Need any help getting dressed and to the table?” she asked, patting Wes on the shoulder.

Rex knew his father hadn’t been out of his pajamas since he’d come home from the hospital.

Rex could’ve kissed Callie then and there.

Wes shook his head and rasped, “I’ll manage.”

“I’ll help him before I go out and get to work on the baler again. The girls stocked up on groceries before they left, so I think you’ll find everything you need in the kitchen. If not, let me know. I’ll send someone back into town.”

Nodding, Callie left to settle the baby and get started on her work, the little one riding her hip. Rex helped Wes dress in loose jeans and a soft T-shirt. Wes even combed his thick, sugar-and-cinnamon hair, complaining about the heavy graying at his temples and needing a trim.

“We’ll get you to the barber as soon as you’re back on your feet,” Rex promised. Then he went out to tackle that old baler again.

The Straight Arrow Ranch still baled the old small, rectangular bales and stored them in pole barns situated strategically around the property because only about 25 percent of its two square miles of land was suitable for growing fodder, and much of the range to the north and west was too rough for transporting the large, round bales to which so many ranchers had gone. Besides, they already had the storage facilities, so it didn’t make sense to fix what wasn’t broken, as Wes put it. Except that the hay baler was currently broken, and Rex wasn’t making much headway fixing it.

Wes sat at the kitchen table when Rex came in for lunch, exasperated and determined not to show it. Story of his life lately. He saw no sign of the wheelchair that he’d rented, probably because Wes hated to use it, but Rex didn’t care how his dad had gotten to the table as long as he was there. He sent Callie a smile of thanks as he walked to the counter and helped himself to a tall glass of iced tea.

“How did you know he loved Mom’s pimento cheese sandwiches?” he asked softly.

She gave him the barest of smiles, whispering, “I’ve seen him eat three at a sitting.”

Saluting her with his tea glass, Rex walked to the table. He silently congratulated himself on making a good hire.

Church ladies had been helping them out since Rex’s sisters had left after getting Wes home from the hospital, providing casseroles and other dishes and sitting with Wes when called upon, but it had rapidly become obvious that they couldn’t continue to impose. The past couple weeks on their own had been rough, especially with the ranch taking more and more of Rex’s time. Rex honestly hadn’t expected to find someone to help so quickly, though. He’d only stopped at the café because he was hungry for a decent breakfast. Even before his sisters had returned to their respective jobs—Ann to Dallas, where she managed a hotel, and Meredith to Oklahoma City, where she worked as a nurse in the hospital where their father had been through surgery and would soon start chemotherapy—breakfast had been an issue. Even a well-stocked larder didn’t help if a person had no idea what to do with its contents.

Callie knew exactly what she was doing. Neither of his sisters could hold a candle to her in the kitchen. Even his mother might have had her work cut out for her. Gloria Billings had been fun, loving and more than a little scatterbrained. Callie proved efficient, quick and affable, not to mention easy on the eyes. Wes certainly seemed happy with what was on his plate, and Rex hadn’t seen that in many months, even before they’d figured out what was wrong with his dad.

Eventually Wes wiped his mouth with a napkin, saying, “Wish I could do better by this, Callie. Sure is good. Any chance you can put it up for my lunch tomorrow?”

Callie turned from the big, old stove that had been Rex’s mother’s pride and joy. Gloria had loved everything about the rustic, sprawling, sixty-year-old cedar-sided ranch house, wrapped in deep porches and steep, metal roofing that Rex’s grandfather had built. She’d even loved the drafty, smoky, fieldstone fireplace that took up one whole wall in the L-shaped living and formal dining area. Smiling, Callie walked to the rectangular kitchen table and picked up Wes’s plate.

“I think there’s enough left over for your lunch tomorrow, if that’s what you want. I was planning on Gloria’s chicken and dumplings for supper.”

Wes sat back with a happy smile. “It’s been an age since I last had that.”

“Gloria was generous with her recipes,” Callie said. “I use them all the time.”

As she carried the plate back to the sink, Wes looked to Rex. “You did good, son.”

Rex just smiled and gobbled down the last of his thick sandwich, as a thin wail rose from upstairs.

Callie calmly moved toward the back stairs. A back hallway provided access to the stairs, a laundry room, mudroom, a small bath and what his mother had used to call her craft room. His dad had taken over the latter as his bedroom to spare himself a trip up the stairs after he’d taken ill. What had once been six small bedrooms upstairs had been remodeled into four bedrooms and two roomy baths, all with sloping ceilings.

“If you need me, I’ll be in the barn,” Rex announced as Callie climbed the stairs.

“Okay,” Callie called. “We’ll be fine.”

“That baler still giving you trouble?” Wes asked with a shake of his head. “Wish I was up to helping you fix it.”

“It’s okay, Dad.” Rex got to his feet. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

His father sighed but laboriously pushed into a standing position. At sixty-two years of age and six foot four inches in height, Wes still stood a couple inches taller than Rex, but he felt perilously thin when Rex wrapped his arm lightly about Wes’s waist.

He walked his dad down the hall into his bedroom, which now contained a rented hospital bed. His sisters had draped a sheer curtain over the window, but Wes preferred to keep that pushed to one side. Rex thought it was so his father could see his mother’s peonies. Even now, four years after her unexpected death, they bloomed in the shade of the old hackberry tree at the side of the house, though the flowerbeds badly needed weeding.

Rex made a mental note to see to the flowerbeds—just as soon as he got the baler operating and the early hay harvest under way. He had to get the hay in or the cattle wouldn’t have the fodder they’d need to get through winter. The Straight Arrow covered 1,280 acres of prime ranchland, and a good portion of it had been sowed in sturdy grasses, but after several years of drought, even the good rains of the past year hadn’t allowed the range to fully recover. With Dad’s medical bills piling up—the insurance carried high deductibles and co-pays—the ranch couldn’t afford to buy more fodder than usual and still stay on a sound financial footing, which was why Rex would be paying Callie’s wages, though he intended for neither her nor his father to realize that fact. After all, he could afford it. Besides, he’d be practicing law again soon enough.

Ranching had never been Rex’s chosen career path, but without the ranch, Rex and his sisters feared that their dad would simply give up. He’d taken their mother’s death hard, and they feared that his cancer would become an excuse for him simply to let go and join her in the next life, especially if the ranch faltered. Rex couldn’t let that happen. Though not as prosperous as in years past, the ranch remained on solid fiscal footing, and Rex intended to see to it that it stayed that way. As much as he disliked the physical labor of ranching, he could, would, do this.

Besides, Callie wouldn’t be here for long. They’d only need her until Meredith could get a leave of absence from her nursing job and Ann’s company sent a temporary manager to take over for her so she could use some of those many vacation days she had stacked up. Anyway, it was worth double Callie’s wages to see Wes smiling, dressed and sitting at the table for meals again.

Meanwhile, having a pretty woman around the house, good meals on the table and clean clothes would go a long way toward helping Rex swallow his frustration and dismay with the work and do this thing for his dad. It was the least he could do for the man who had never pushed him to give up his own dreams to take over the family legacy.

* * *

After changing her daughter’s diaper, Callie nursed her in the rocking chair in front of the empty fireplace. She watched through the window as Rex walked across the yard, past an enormous bur oak, over the hard-packed red dirt road to the big red barn on the other side. The old barn sagged a bit, its white roof beaten to gray in places by the Oklahoma weather, but it still stood proudly beside a maze of corrals and a conglomeration of newer metal outbuildings.

Rex pulled on a pair of leather work gloves as he walked, his big, booted feet kicking up little dust clouds along the well-worn path. She respected him for taking time out of his law practice to come here and care for his ailing father, but she had to wonder just how much he knew about balers and livestock.

Wes obviously needed the help. His gauntness had shocked Callie more than the sudden graying of his hair, and in order to tempt his appetite she’d instantly started sorting through her mental store of Gloria Billings’s recipes and what she recalled the Billings girls had bought in her father’s grocery.

Gloria had always been very kind to Callie and widely generous with her recipes. As a motherless girl who had always known she was a disappointment to her father—Stuart Crowsen obviously would have much preferred a son to take over his many businesses—Callie had deeply admired Gloria and envied Ann and Meredith.

She barely remembered Rex. He’d been away at college by the time she’d started to take notice of boys. She hadn’t given the largely absent Rex a passing thought. She couldn’t help doing so now, though.

He was a fine-looking man, and he so obviously loved his father.

“Thank You, Lord,” she whispered, cradling Bodie against her. “Thank You for sending him into the café this morning. Thank You for this chance. Thank You for giving me a way to help Wes. Please show me how to make the most of it. I hope Gloria knows that I’ll do my best by him.”

Bodie pulled away and sat up then, giving Callie a milky smile. Callie hugged her, feeling for the first time since her husband, Bo, had died that they were truly going to be okay.

“We’re on our way now, baby girl. Soon we’ll be on our own.”

The money that she would earn here with the Billings family would take her and Bodie to a new life, someplace where Callie could find a decent-paying job and make a home for the two of them. Far away from her father. Meanwhile, she would do her best to get Wes Billings back on his feet and Straight Arrow Ranch running smoothly.

She carried Bodie downstairs, created a playpen out of kitchen chairs, filled it with her daughter’s favorite toys and went to work. This kitchen wasn’t as modern as her father’s. Even the microwave and dishwasher were ancient. The room had lots of space, though, and Callie loved the butcher-block work island.

Within the hour, the house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of chocolate chip-and-walnut cookies. Wes called from his room, “Smells good!”

“I’ll bring you a plate with a glass of milk.”

She piled half a dozen cookies on a plate, poured a talk glass of whole milk and carried them to him, along with a stack of napkins.

“I can’t eat all that,” he protested.

“Eat what you want,” she replied, leaving the snack on the bedside table within easy reach.

He helped himself to the first cookie, took a bite and closed his eyes, humming approval.

“Girl, you know your way around a kitchen.”

“I had to learn early.”

“I imagine you did.”

“Gloria was a big help.”

“My Glory was a jewel,” he said on a sigh.

“I missed her after y’all switched your membership to Countryside Church.”

“The pastor out there was the son of a good friend of mine,” Wes explained, reaching for another cookie. “We wanted to support him. He’s been gone awhile now, but by then we’d sunk pretty deep roots in that church. It’s home.”

“I understand,” Callie said. “I’ve been thinking about going there myself.”

Wes nodded and finished off the second cookie, then reached for the milk, saying, “You’ll like it. Rex is gonna like these. That old baler is giving him a real hard time. Why don’t you take him some?”

“I’ll do that,” Callie said.

Wes brightened appreciably. Callie smiled and returned to the kitchen, where she found a sturdy paper plate and a disposable cup. She filled the plate with cookies and the cup with milk. After parking Bodie on her hip, she went out through the front door, carrying the plate with the cup nestled in its center.

She entered the barn through the wide rolling door nearest the road. Rex was bent over the long, mechanical arm of the baler, growling at something.

“Maybe this will help,” she said.

He jerked upright in surprise, a ratchet in his hand. His eyebrows peaked when he saw the plate of cookies and cup of milk. “Oh. Uh. Thanks.”

“Your dad thought you might like a snack.”

“Yeah. Looks good. Won’t get that stupid bolt off, though,” he grumped, laying aside the ratchet and stripping off his gloves.

She passed him the plate. He picked up a cookie and tasted it. “Mmm. Make these from scratch?”

“Of course.”

“Dad eat any?”

“He did.”

Rex smiled and winked. “Smart girl.”

“He obviously needs to put on some weight,” she noted.

“You’ve already gotten him to eat more than we’ve been able to since he came home from the hospital. You are a great find.”

“Hold that thought,” she chortled as he gobbled three cookies and chugged half the milk before handing her back the plate and picking up the ratchet again. She figured that she had a small window to make a good impression before her father made his displeasure known.

“Maybe I can get in there without my gloves,” Rex mused, studying the baler.

“Why don’t you lift the arm?” she asked.

“I tried that. More room from the top. Not that it matters. I still can’t get in there to loosen the bolt so I can replace this part.” He tapped an electrical receiver on the arm.

She set the plate on the fender of the baler and held out her hand. “Trade you. Give me the ratchet and hold Bodie.”

“Uh...” He looked at the baby as if he’d never seen one before, and Callie hid a smile.

“She doesn’t bite. Well, she does actually. She’s teething. Just keep anything you don’t want chomped on out of her mouth.” Holding Bodie out with both hands, Callie waited for Rex to take her. He laid down the ratchet, reached, pulled back and gingerly reached out again. His enormous hands more than spanned Bodie’s little torso. “Just tuck her into the fold of your arm,” Callie instructed.

He seemed confused for a moment, but then he folded his left arm beneath the baby and pulled her against his chest. Bodie stuck her hand in her mouth and looked up at him, drooling. Callie picked up the ratchet and went to work.

“She’s got your eyes,” Rex said after a moment.

“Yep, and my hair, poor thing.” Callie tilted her shoulder, maneuvering around the curved teeth of the baling arm.

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Callie almost had to lay her cheek on the arm of the baler to reach the bolt. “Fine, stick straight, can’t make up its mind what color it is...”

“It’s blond,” he said, sounding confused.

“Several shades of blond.” She found the bolt head and slotted the socket over it, but she couldn’t get enough leverage to budge the thing. Straightening, she said, “We’re going to need an adapter.”

Rex walked over to the workbench against the wall and picked through the toolbox there, returning with a six-inch adapter, Bodie still tucked into the curve of his arm. She seemed perfectly comfortable there, one leg crossed over the other, her gaze studying him. Her pink ruffled booties and matching shorts were absolutely adorable, but Callie noticed that the T-shirt looked a little tight. After he handed over the adapter, he picked up another cookie from the plate on the fender. Callie fixed the socket to the adapter and the adapter to the ratchet.

“So you didn’t go to the hair salon to get your hair like that?” he asked conversationally.

Sputtering laughter, Callie shook her head. “I’ve seen the inside of a hair salon exactly twice in my life. The second time was to fix what I had done the first time. Me and perms do not go together.”

“Perms? Like curly hair?”

“Think corkscrews coming out of long, blond steel wool. I might as well have put my head in a fryer. I cut it off and I kept cutting it until the last of the damage was gone.” She blew at her bangs. They tended to lie flat on her forehead. “It darkened up and got all stripy while I was pregnant with Bodie.” She shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it.”

“Why would you?” he asked. “I know women who pay small fortunes to have hair like that. It looks good.”

She blinked at him, ridiculously pleased. “Thanks.” Unable to remember the last time anyone had told her anything about her looked good, she focused on the job at hand, a little breathless.

Within moments, she had the socket firmly affixed to the bolt again, but she still couldn’t budge it.

“You’ll have to manage this,” she said, turning her head to find Rex sharing his cookie with Bodie. “What are you doing? She can’t eat that!” The little scamp smacked her lips in delight, her pale eyebrows arched high.

“I—I thought... I mean, I didn’t know... She likes it,” he finished lamely.

“Of course she likes it,” Callie said, trying not to laugh, “but she’s not supposed to have it.” She pinned him with a direct look over her shoulder, her hands filled with the ratchet and bolt. “She’s just started eating solid foods, and sugar, chocolate and nuts are not on the menu.” Seeking to make a liar of her, Bodie leaned forward, her mouth nibbling on the bit of cookie that Rex still held in his fingers. “Will you please get rid of that and come here?” Callie barked.

He flung the cookie bit away and stepped toward her, wiping his hand on his shirt.

“You’ve got it on?” he asked in an incredulous tone.

“Yes. Now turn the thing.”

He covered her hand with his much larger one and gave the ratchet a single Herculean wrench, then another and another... Callie felt the bolt drop into the socket cup.

“That’s it. Short bolt.”

Rex gave a huge sigh of relief and let go, backing away. “Woman, you are worth your weight in gold. I have been working on that for hours and hours.”

Laughing, Callie carefully extricated the tool and the bolt from the machinery. “Replace your part, and I’ll help you bolt it back on,” she volunteered. “Might want to disconnect the battery first.”

“Already done,” he said, passing Bodie back to her. He smiled, and the warmth of it did funny things to Callie’s insides. “Thank you,” he went on. “Seriously. I couldn’t have done this without you. And I’m sorry about the cookie,” he added sheepishly.

“No problem.” She handed over the ratchet but kept the bolt, pretending to study it, her heart beating a little faster than it should have.

He took her hand in his, studying the bolt with her. The man’s hand felt unusually warm, almost hot. Maybe that was why she shivered.

“This is rusty. No wonder it was so hard to get off,” he said.

Realizing he was right, she cleared her throat. “Got any cleaner?”

“There’s a jar with other bolts on the workbench.”

Pulling away from him, she carried the bolt to the workbench and added it to the jar of reddish liquid before turning toward the house, Bodie riding her hip. “I’ll go check on Wes, get the laundry started and come back.”

“Great,” Rex said. “Hey, how do you know so much about this stuff?”

She turned in midstride. “My dad owns the Feed and Grain, remember? And he didn’t seem to know I was female until Teddy Gilmer asked me to the homecoming dance. Until then I was just after-school help with small hands that could get into tight places.” She wiggled her fingers.

“Remind me to thank your dad,” Rex said, smiling again and bowing slightly.

“Oh, I think you’ll get your chance,” Callie replied. Unfortunately, she doubted that any of the Billings family would feel anything close to gratitude once Stuart Crowsen showed himself.

She just hoped that she hadn’t brought them more trouble. If anyone could stand up to Stuart Crowsen, though, it was Wes Billings.

At least, Wes could do it if he was physically stronger. She’d just have to pray that was the case, and in the meantime, she’d do all that she could to prove her worth around here—and keep her daughter from eating cookies.

Chapter Three

The afternoon turned hot, with temperatures shooting up to the midnineties. Surrounded by large trees and deep porches, the old house felt comfortable enough, except for the kitchen. Used to the central air-conditioning of her father’s house, Callie soon felt herself flagging. She opened several windows, especially upstairs, and turned on all the ceiling fans she could find, including the one in the kitchen. Soon, a pleasant breeze cooled the place. She wondered how well that would do in the coming triple-digit heat of deep summer, however.

Figuring that Rex would need something cold, she made a pitcher of iced tea, then carried a glass to Wes, only to find him fast asleep. Pleased to see that he’d eaten all of his cookies and emptied his milk glass, she tiptoed away again, moved the laundry from the washer to the dryer and went out to help Rex reattach that bolt.

He drained the tumbler of iced tea that she brought him in one long gulp.

“You are quickly making yourself indispensable around here,” he gasped, holding the cold glass against his forehead.

She just smiled. “I made the tea sweet because Wes can use the calories, but if you prefer it unsweetened, I can do that, too.”

“I don’t need the calories,” he said, “but then I don’t usually work like this. Either way is fine.” He set aside the glass. “Did the AC unit kick on?”

“I didn’t know there was an AC unit.”

Rex sighed. “I think it’s broken. Dad works outside so much, I doubt he’s even bothered with it in years. For him, just getting out of the sun is usually enough. I’ll take a look at it first chance I get.”

Callie nodded, aware that Rex was overwhelmed at the moment. “Ready to replace that bolt?”

“Yep.” He looked at Bodie, who rubbed her eyes with a fist. “Must be nap time.”

“She doesn’t get a nap until her momma’s ready to start dinner,” Callie said, jiggling the baby on her hip. “Let’s do this. I’ve got clothes in the dryer.”

“Everything’s ready for you.” He nodded at the tool and clean bolt waiting on the fender of the baler. “You’ve got the housework down to a science, don’t you?” he muttered, gingerly taking Bodie into his hands.

“You’d be surprised how quickly you figure it out,” Callie said, fitting the bolt head into the socket. “A few sleepless nights and haphazard days and it all starts falling into place. I trust you’ve tested the connections and everything works.”

“Yes. Praise God! I’m serious. I have prayed repeatedly about this thing. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have it running. As it is, we have to use a custom cutter on the oats and sorghum. I was beginning to fear we’d have to hire someone to do the hay, too.”

“Are you using Dean Paul Pryor for your custom cutting?” Callie asked, bending over the baler arm to find the bolt hole.

“I think that’s who Dad mentioned. Do you know him?”

“Everyone knows Dean. When he sold his granddaddy’s farm to pay for his equipment, everyone thought he was crazy. Well, my father did. Dad would have loaned him the money, but Dean didn’t want to borrow. He said that way he stood to lose the farm and the equipment, and you know what? He was right.” She finally found the hole and got the bolt seated. With a few quick turns, she had it secured. She looked over her shoulder at Rex, who was tapping Bodie’s nose. “You’d better finish this.”

“Ah.” He came forward, wrapped his hand around hers on the ratchet and pulled.

She slipped her hand free, disturbed by the heat that radiated up her arm, and took Bodie from him. He grunted as he pulled the bolt tight.

“That should do it.” Grinning, he shook the ratchet free and extricated it from the baler teeth. “You’ve earned your week’s wages already.”

Callie smiled, but then the sound of tires on the dirt road out front had them both looking in that direction. A moment later, a vehicle door slammed, and a male voice boomed, “Callie Dianne!”

Her heart beginning to pound, Callie swallowed and frowned apologetically at Rex. “I’m sorry about this,” she said, aware that her voice trembled. “My father’s come to call.” She’d hoped to have more time. Reluctantly, she moved toward the front of the barn, silently praying that this confrontation wouldn’t be as difficult as she feared.

She heard Rex set aside the tool and follow her. Stuart had made it halfway up the path toward the house when Callie reluctantly called out to him.

“I’m here, Dad.”

He spun around, a raging bull of a man. Not quite six feet tall and built like a brick wall, Stuart hadn’t changed much in the past twenty years, but then he’d always seemed middle-aged, angry and overbearing. His flattop haircut added to the squareness of his face, as did his blunt nose and pugnacious chin. Callie had never been able to see anything of herself in him. Long ago, she’d learned to remain calm in the face of his rages, and he’d never physically hurt her, but he wielded power with purpose and impunity to achieve his own ends.

“Get in the car!” he demanded, pointing.

Callie took a deep breath, cradled Bodie against her, ignored the quaking of her own knees and shook her head. “No.”

“You’re going home.”

Callie swallowed to steady her voice and said, “Wes needs me, Dad. I’m going to stay here to help Mr. Billings.”

“Get in the car!” Stuart roared, starting toward her.

Despite the slamming of her heart, Callie stood her ground. “I’m not going, Dad.”

To her relief, Rex stepped in front her. “Mr. Crowsen, I’m Rex Billings.”

“I know who you are,” Stuart growled. “Get out of my way.” He came to a halt, however, in the middle of the road.

“My father is ill, sir. I have my hands full with the ranch. Until my sisters can get here, we need Callie’s help.”

“Get other help.”

“I don’t have time to find other help,” Rex argued reasonably. “And Callie’s agreed to work for us.”

“She’s my daughter, and she’s coming home with me,” Stuart insisted.

Rex widened his stance and folded his arms. It was the very pose that Bo had taken when he’d told Stuart that he and Callie were getting married. Callie had feared that the announcement would come to violence, but Bo had promised otherwise, and he had kept his word.

“You have no legal authority over Callie,” Rex said.

“That’s my granddaughter!” Stuart bawled, throwing out a finger.

“Do you have legal custody of her?” Rex asked.

“He doesn’t,” Callie answered quietly, her voice wavering.

Rex didn’t so much as glance in her direction. He kept his focus on her father and his tone level. “You have no legal recourse here, Mr. Crowsen. I understand that you’re upset, but Callie and Bodie are safe and comfortable. You have my word on it. Moreover, Callie is being handsomely paid.”

That upset Stuart even more, though Rex wouldn’t have understood that. “You stay out of this, Billings! Callie, you’re coming home with me.”

“No, Dad, I’m not,” she said firmly, emboldened by Rex’s support. “I’ve been telling you for a while now that Bodie and I need to make our own way.”

Stuart thumped himself in the chest. He never wore anything but a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled back and dark slacks.

“I provide for you,” he declared. “You have no need to earn money.”

“But I do,” she told him softly. “I’m afraid the price for your provision is too high.”

They both knew she was talking about Ben Dolent. Stuart heaved several deep breaths, considering his next move. She imagined that he was tallying up any loans that he held on the Billings’ properties, any feed bills due, any equipment orders. The amount must have been negligible, for he shook his head and pointed a thick finger at her.

“I just want to take care of you, girl. Why won’t you accept that I know what’s best?”

“Why won’t you accept that I’m a grown woman who can decide what’s best for herself?”

Stuart shook his head. “I’ve worked my whole life to provide for you, Callie. You defied me once, and look what happened. I won’t stand for this a second time!”

“I’m afraid you have no choice,” Rex told him evenly. “My father is ill. I won’t have him upset. Callie’s already done him a world of good, and if she wants to stay, she’s staying. I can make it official and get a protective order to keep you off the property, if you insist.”

“You think a piece of paper will keep me away?” Stuart demanded.

Rex took a step forward, balling his hands into fists. “If it won’t,” he threatened, “I’m not above throwing you off the place myself. You think I can’t, you come here raving like a madman again.”

“I’m older than you by twenty years at least,” Stuart pointed out, backing up a step.

“You are,” Rex admitted, “but you look fit enough to me, and I’ll make good on that threat if I have to.”

Stuart glared, and snarled, “This isn’t over,” and stomped off to his big luxury car. He always drove the most expensive model of Cadillac.

Callie let out a silent breath of relief as he got inside, started the engine and drove away. Rex slid her a look from the corners of his eyes.

“Okay. Now I know why we won’t be going back to his place for anything.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm,” Callie said, tears filling her eyes, “and I don’t want to hurt him. He just...” She didn’t know how to explain her father’s overbearing overprotectiveness. Shaking her head, she carried her daughter toward the ranch house.

Her heart still pounded, and she privately admitted she was thrilled at the way Rex had stood up to her father, but she couldn’t help thinking that Bo would have handled it differently. Quiet, mild-mannered Bo had accomplished with sheer determination what Rex had done with threats and bravado. The thrill she’d felt when Rex had stepped between her and her father confused her. At least Rex hadn’t told her to pack her things and leave with Stuart, though, and he’d made it plain that she was valued at Straight Arrow Ranch.

She wondered just how long Rex meant to remain around War Bonnet. And that she even wondered worried her.

* * *

Stomping into the garage and throwing things calmed Rex somewhat, but he hated nothing more than a blustering bully. He’d had enough of that. When he’d walked away from his marriage and his job, he’d promised himself that he’d never put up with that kind of demanding, overbearing manipulation again.

Dennis Gladden had used his daughter as a bargaining chip. Rex had been foolish enough to believe that Amy loved him. He had married her in spite of who her father was, not because of it. Only later had he realized that Amy was meant to keep him in line, to bend him to her daddy’s will. When Rex had refused to be molded into an obedient yes-man, Amy had transferred her affections to a more malleable candidate within the firm, with her father’s approval. Rex still didn’t know if his discovery of her infidelity had been conveniently orchestrated or if it had truly been an accident. Certainly Dennis had known that Amy was at his house on the river when he’d sent Rex there for a weekend of fishing to “consider the future.” Whether Dennis had known that she was there with another man or not, Rex neither knew nor truly cared.

In a funny way, Amy and her bully of a father had made it possible for Rex to take care of his dad. He’d be hanged if another bully of a father would get in the way of that. He couldn’t help wondering why Stuart Crowsen would be so adamant about his daughter not leaving his household, though. He could understand if he was so fond of her and little Bodie that he wanted them with him, but it wasn’t as if they’d moved across the state. They hadn’t gone half a dozen miles away. And it was only a temporary situation.

Rex knew he was going to have to find out what was behind all this, if only to keep it from impacting Wes, but he didn’t feel sufficiently calm enough for that discussion until after he’d returned to the house, checked on his dad and cleaned up. By that time, Callie had supper on the table.

“Feels like Glory could come walking into the room any moment,” Wes commented, leaning an elbow on the table beside his plate. “Thank you, Callie.”

“My pleasure.”

“But from now on, you sit yourself down at this table with us,” Wes went on. “We take our meals together in this house.”

Rex knew he should have thought of that, but she seemed to be constantly moving about the kitchen. The only time she’d paused had been when Wes had said the blessing over the meal. Callie cast a taut smile at Wes and nodded. A thin wail rose from the second floor of the house, and Callie immediately began to remove her apron. It had been one of his mom’s favorites, sewn from remnants of her handmade clothing.

“That’s another thing,” Wes said to Rex, as she hurried toward the stairs. “There’s an old high chair out in the storage room in the barn. Your mom was saving it for grandchildren, but seeing as none of you kids have been cooperative on that end, it’ll do for Bodie. Probably needs some work.”

“I’ll see to it,” Rex promised.

“You do that,” Wes ordered. “Bringing those two here was a good thing, son.”

“I hope so,” Rex said. But he still had to ask Callie a question.

He got his chance a couple hours later. Wes was better, but he wasn’t up to par. Rex had helped him sponge off, check the bandages on his incisions and dress for bed. Wes’s willingness to let Rex help him was a testament to his exhaustion, which in turn showed that he still had a lot of recovery ahead of him.

Hearing Bodie babbling on the front porch, Rex walked out there to find Callie sitting in one of the chairs, holding Bodie’s hands while the baby jogged up and down around her mom’s knee, which sported a wide, wet spot where Bodie had drooled.

Bodie looked up at him, smiled and clearly said, “Hiii.”

“Hi, cutie.”

“She just started doing that,” Callie informed him with a smile. “She won’t say ‘mama’ yet, but she’s suddenly saying, ‘hi.’ Of course, she has no idea what it means.”

“Mmm,” Bodie hummed against her mother’s leg.

Rex walked around them both and sat down in the metal lawn chair next to Callie. It sagged and creaked ominously. He held his breath, but the chair seemed stable enough. With dusk settling around them, the stifling heat had begun to abate, but the only breeze stirring was that pulled in by the ceiling fan in the living room.

“I’ll get someone out here to look at the AC unit tomorrow,” he said. “According to Dad, it just needs coolant.”

Callie nodded beside him and softly said, “Wes is going to need air-conditioning to get through his chemo. He doesn’t think so, but I do. We’re two hours farther south here than Tulsa. You know how brutal these summers can be. I hate to think of him being sick to his stomach in hundred-degree heat.”

“I appreciate that,” Rex said. “I should’ve taken care of it already.”

“You’ve had other things on your mind.”

“I have. There’s something on my mind now.”

“You want to know why my dad is so upset about me working for you.”

“Yeah.”

“Ben Dolent.”

“Who?”

“Ben Dolent. He runs Dad’s grain silo, and Dad has him picked out as his next son-in-law.”

“I take it you’re not in favor of the idea.”

“No.”

“What about your first husband? Did Stuart pick him, too?”

“Oh, no,” Callie said, shaking her head and chuckling. “Bo was the exact opposite of the sort of man my dad wants me to marry.”

“What sort of man would that be?” Rex asked.

“One he can control, I guess,” Callie answered. “The kind who will do as he’s told and be glad for it.”

“And Bo wasn’t that kind of man?”

“He wasn’t.” She curved her hand around Bodie’s little head, smoothing the baby’s pale hair. “Bo didn’t care about money. He didn’t care about status. All he cared about was me, us and serving God. He had a campground ministry over at Turner Falls. Didn’t pay much. I had to work to make ends meet, but we had all we needed. For the little while we were together. We were only married a few months. He hadn’t had time to put away anything for us.”

“I’m sorry you lost him,” Rex said.

She cleared her throat, her gaze on the baby. “I’m still trying to figure out what God’s doing,” she admitted softly, shaking her head. “I just don’t understand yet. I worked and saved every penny right up until my labor started, but when Bodie was nine weeks old she got sick and couldn’t go to day care, and that’s all it took. We had to go back to my dad’s. I know it was God’s will. I just don’t believe it’s His will for me to marry Ben Dolent.”

Rex didn’t know what to say to that. His own marriage had imploded because his wife’s father had wanted a son-in-law who would “do as he’s told and be glad for it” and his wife had been only too happy to try to provide the same. When Rex had balked, the marriage had suffered. He’d sought refuge in work, thinking that if he could prove himself professionally then she would take pride in him. Instead, she’d gone to another man. He couldn’t help thinking that they’d still be together if she’d had Callie’s strength of character or if she’d loved him as much as Callie had apparently loved her husband.

He smiled at Bodie. “You named her after her father, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Her father and my mother. Bodie Jane. It seemed appropriate. She’ll never know her daddy, and I was only four when my mother died. I barely remember her.”

“It’s a good name,” he said, getting to his feet, “and it’s good that the two of you are here.”

“I’m glad you think so, especially after the way my father acted today.”

He did think so. A strong urge to put his hand on her shoulder seized him. He did it before he could stop the impulse, and the rightness of it shook him. Looking at his hand as it cupped her slender shoulder, he suddenly felt as if he hardly knew himself. The frayed cuff of his father’s old work shirt and the sheer size of his hand against her smooth, firm, woman’s frame rattled him. It was as if he’d never really seen his own hand before, never really touched a woman. He thought of Amy, and for a moment he wondered if she’d even been real. Shaking his head he took his hand away, thinking that he really needed to get some rest.

As for Callie Deviner, he was glad to have her help, but their arrangement was temporary, and even were it not, he had no intention of allowing history to repeat itself.

Pretty little Callie Deviner had the wrong sort of father.

Besides, once Wes was able to take over the reins of Straight Arrow Ranch again—or if it should be determined that Wes could never do so—Rex would be heading back to Tulsa. That’s where his life and his career were based. For as long as Rex could remember, he’d dreamed of leaving War Bonnet and the Straight Arrow Ranch. He’d wanted no part of the backbreaking drudgery that was his father’s life here, always at the mercy of the weather and whatever new disease befell the livestock or the crops.

No, this life, and any woman so obviously comfortable with this life, was not for him. That meant he would be wise to keep his distance from Callie.

“I’ll say good-night,” he told her.

“Good night.”

“I’ll, um, find that high chair in the morning.”

“It’s not important.”

“I promised Dad.”

“All right.”

He reached down to smooth a hand over Bodie Jane’s head. “Good night, precious.”

“Hiii,” she said.

Callie laughed and instructed her. “Bye-bye. Bye-bye.”

“Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh.”

Chuckling, Rex went into the house, said good-night to his father and climbed the stairs to read and wait for the dark that would bring him rest for another arduous day.

Chapter Four

The air conditioner repairman had to come all the way from Ardmore, so it would be late afternoon before he could reach them. Naturally, Friday turned up scorching hot before lunchtime. Wes fretted about the horses in the paddock beyond the stable barn.

“They need fresh bedding and the water troughs have to be cleaned, but I don’t want to plague Rex with anything more just now,” he told Callie when she brought him a tall glass of iced tea.

“Can’t one of the ranch hands see to it?”

“There’s only the three of them, and Rex has them working cattle today. Looks like a bumper crop of bull calves this year, and they’ve got to be castrated before the end of the month.” He shot an embarrassed glance at Callie. “Sorry. That’s blunt talk for a town girl.”

Callie chuckled. “You forget that I grew up in the Feed and Grain. I’ve heard worse, believe me.”

“All the same,” he mumbled.

Callie puzzled on the situation for a moment, then asked, “Do you have a cell phone?”

The only landline in the house hung on the wall in the kitchen—and had a rotary dial. She wondered if the thing even worked. She’d seen Rex talking on his cell phone, so she knew they had coverage out here.

Frowning, Wes opened the drawer in his bedside table and began pawing through it. “Gotta be ’round here somewhere.” Finally he came up with a flip phone that looked as if it had come right out of the package. “My girls call me every few days. Otherwise, I forget about the fool thing.”

“May I?” Callie asked, holding out her hand. He dropped the small phone into it, and she quickly programmed in Bo’s old number. They’d only had the one phone between them, and thankfully Bo hadn’t been carrying it the day of the flash flood that had taken his life. She’d managed to maintain the line, though her father had wanted her to cancel it and replace it with a business phone. “Here’s what we’ll do,” she said, handing back the phone. “I’ll bring in that old playpen that Rex found in the storeroom this morning when he went looking for the high chair, and you can watch Bodie while I go out and take care of the horses.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Wes protested, shifting on the bed.

“I’ve scrubbed out troughs before,” she assured him, “and I’m sure I can manage to muck out a few stalls if you’ll just explain how—”

“Although,” he interrupted, his pale blue gaze taking on a thoughtful expression, “what you could do is just open the gates between the paddock and the corrals beside the big barn. It’s shady over there, and if you turn the tap on and fill that trough next to the red barn, the horses will find their own way to it.”

Callie smiled. “I can do that. You have to promise that you won’t pick Bodie up while I’m gone, though. If she starts fussing, you just let her fuss. We can’t risk you opening an incision. If you get worried about her, you can call me and I’ll come right away. Agreed?”

He nodded and mused, “You know, when I built that paddock, there were three big trees in it, but the drought killed them, one by one, and I had to take them down. Now the horses have no shade out there, so they spend more time inside, which makes more work for us, but I can’t let them suffer this heat without some sort of relief, especially my faithful Soldier. That old gentleman has carried me many a mile and bred up some fine animals. Not a better behaved stud in the state.”

“I understand,” Callie said. “Let me get things situated in here, and I’ll open those gates.”

“Thanks, Callie.”

She made quick work of it, having already scrubbed every inch of the old wood playpen. The padding had long since disintegrated, so she folded a frayed, faded, quilted bedspread and put that in the bottom of the playpen, which she positioned next to Wes’s bed, before hanging one of Bodie’s favorite activity toys on the side rail and tossing in some stuffed animals. After feeding and changing Bodie, Callie retrieved the cell phone then plopped the baby down in the cushioned playpen and entertained her for several minutes with the activity center. While Bodie busily played with her toys, Callie slipped out to see to the horses.

She started by turning on the tap in the metal trough in the corral next to the big red barn, then wound her way through the maze of fences, opening the gates that led down to the horse paddock. Seeing only one animal in the pasture, it occurred to her that the others might be hiding from the heat in the horse barn, so she ventured in there.

The odors of horse, hay and manure enveloped her. As her eyes adjusted to the shadowed interior, she saw that all of the stall gates stood open so the horses could come and go as they pleased, but a glance at the nearest trough showed her why Wes was concerned. A green scum ringed the metal container.

Callie didn’t know much about horses, but she knew better than to surprise them, so she started talking before she started walking. “Hey, now, fellas, it’s cooler and cleaner up by the red barn, so why don’t we take a walk?”

Just moving around with her arms held out seemed to be enough to get the first one headed toward the door. Another soon followed, and then a big, dark beauty lifted its head, blew through its nostrils and the remaining four horses went out the door in a rapid clip. Smiling, Callie went out a safe distance behind them. She had to climb over a couple fences to get near the water tap and turn it off without wading through horses. They obviously appreciated the fresh water and clean trough. She climbed over those same fences again to avoid skirting too close to swishing tails and rear hooves on her way back to the house, but as she hit the dirt next to the road, she found unwelcome help waiting.

Meaty hands reached out to steady her as she landed after hopping backward from the top rail of the fence.

“Careful. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She’d know that oddly thin voice anywhere, and pulled away as politely as she could manage. “I’m fine.”

“I thought you were keeping house and cooking for the Billingses,” Ben Dolent said, squinting at her from above a stiff smile.

“That’s right.” She brushed her hands on the seat of her jeans and started for the house. “Need to get back and check on Wes and the baby.”

“How is old Wes?” Ben asked, hurrying to keep up with her. He wasn’t much taller than her, and his short legs meant that he had to take twice as many steps. She resisted the urge to lengthen her stride.

“Still weak but mending. He’ll start chemo before long.”

Ben clucked his tongue. He had a habit of doing that. “Terrible thing, cancer. I reckon Wes’s daughters will want to nurse him through that.”

“When they can,” Callie said. “Right now, I’m it, though.”

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Ben said, pumping his arms in an attempt to keep pace with her. “I’ll gladly hire professional help for old Wes.”

Callie felt her jaw drop. She came to a halt beneath the bur oak in the front yard and glared at him. “You’d cheat me out of my wages?”

Huffing for air, Ben threw up his hands, his round face registering shock and surprise. Obviously he hadn’t considered all the ramifications when he’d agreed to this little ploy of Stuart’s. “No! I—I just want to spare you the work.”

“But I enjoy the work, Ben. And where would you find professional help around here?”

“There’s an agency over in Lawton,” he squawked as she turned and headed for the porch.

“That’s over an hour away,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“But they’ll send help if it’s live-in,” he argued, following on her heels.

“To cook and clean and care for Wes?” she demanded, turning on him.

“Nursing care,” he answered lamely, backing up a step.

“Wes doesn’t need nursing right now as much as he needs good food, clean clothes and company,” she declared. “Now, the Billings family have hired me, and I’m staying. That’s all there is to it.”

Ben lifted his chin, what there was of it. “Callie, listen to reason.”

“You’re not talking reason. You’re saying what Stuart Crowsen has told you to say. Goodbye, Ben.”

“I trust that’s an end to it,” she heard Rex say and turned to find him on the pathway behind them.

Ridiculously pleased, she stepped up onto the porch and went into the house without so much as a backward glance. She heard Ben and Rex speaking, but the conversation was short. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when she heard Ben’s vehicle leave a few moments later.

Rex didn’t mention the encounter, but after dinner she walked into the kitchen from Wes’s room to find Rex waiting for her. He’d leaned a hip against the kitchen counter and waited with folded arms. When he saw her, he straightened and calmly announced, “You have company again.”

Puzzled, she moved into the dining area, Rex following on her heels. When she saw Ben standing in the living room with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and his cowboy hat in the other, Callie didn’t know who she most wanted to slap, Ben or Rex. Or her father.

Instead she kept her apron on, silently prayed for patience, smiled and said, “Why, Ben. How nice. These must be for the patient.”

Ben looked blindsided as she took the flowers from his hand. “Uh...”

“I’ll put these in water and see if Wes is up to visitors.”

She left him standing in the living room with Rex, who seemed to be trying not to laugh as he rocked back on his heels.

As she took down a large jar and arranged the flowers in it—they were the same ones she’d seen in the grocery a couple days earlier—silence stretched thin in the other room. Finally, Rex spoke.

“Dad’s usually pretty tired after he’s eaten. Just coming to the table takes a lot out of him, but at least he’s doing that now, and I’m sure he’d want to thank you personally for the flowers.”

“Oh. Uh. I don’t want to bother him,” Ben muttered. “Just...wanted him to know I’m thinking of him.”

“That’s very good of you,” Rex said carefully.

Callie bit her lip and stayed right where she was. After a moment fraught with uncertainty, Ben mumbled about calling again sometime and left. Callie didn’t move a muscle until she heard the screen door slam behind him. Only then did she creep to the doorway between the kitchen and dining area to peek out. Rex stood just on the other side, his arms folded.

“So that’s your boyfriend, huh?” Rex teased.

She glared at him. “Do not call him that, even as a joke.”

Rex grinned, splitting the beard-shadowed lower half of his face with the blindingly white crescent of his smile. “Poor guy’s fighting way out of his class.”

The compliment pleased her, which was exactly why she didn’t even acknowledge it.

“Why did you let him in?”

“What did you expect me to do? When he asked me this afternoon if you and I are ‘getting together,’ I told him no. I didn’t imagine he’d take that as permission to come courting.”

She sighed, her face flaming. “I’m sorry. He had no right to ask you that.”

“Seems a reasonable question,” Rex said in a low voice. “I’d want to know if I was him.”

She shook her head. “I’ve told him over and over again that I’m not interested in him, but my father just keeps sending him after me.”

“Obviously your father is the one you have to convince.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” she demanded. “He just insists that Ben will take care of me and Bodie if something happens to him, as if I can’t be trusted to take care of the two of us.” Wincing, she admitted, “I guess my record isn’t too good, but it’s still infuriating and appalling. I have to prove to my father that I can provide for me and my daughter.”

“Okay,” Rex said, turning back toward the living room. “I get it. Your wildly overprotective father wants you settled with a man he knows will provide for you the way he wants you provided for. You don’t want the man he’s chosen and are intent on proving that you can provide for your daughter on your own.”

“That about sums it up.” Except for the part where her dad would go to extremes to get his way. She just hoped, prayed, that Wes Billings had been smart enough to stay out of Stuart Crowsen’s grasp.

* * *

The repaired baler lasted all of one day in the field then broke a drive chain. Rex called in to town to see if Crowsen had a replacement. To his surprise, not only did the Feed and Grain have the part, Crowsen offered to have it delivered at once. Rex agreed to receive the delivery at the house and should not have been surprised when Dolent arrived with the drive chain, though why the manager of the grain silo would be delivering equipment parts could not have been more evident, especially when he asked to go into the house for a drink of water. Rex offered him iced tea from the thermos that Callie had filled for him that morning, but Dolent apparently craved water.

Dolent did not discourage easily; Rex would give him that. Unfortunately, the man didn’t appear bright enough to realize that he had zero chance with a woman like Callie.

Even though time was of the essence, Rex walked Dolent inside, insisted he take a moment to say hello to Wes and walked Dolent out again, with nothing more than a cool drink and a glimpse of Callie, who was busy preparing lunch. He made sure Ben saw the flowers in the jar on the dresser in Wes’s room. Then he gave Ben a hearty handshake and his sincere thanks before all but physically tossing the dullard into the Crowsen Feed and Grain pickup truck.

Obviously frustrated, Dolent started up the engine, backed the truck up and drove away, but Rex stood where he was until the pickup disappeared from view. Callie had sent him a look of thanks when he’d steered Ben out of the kitchen, and Rex privately admitted to some personal irritation mixed with his amusement over the man’s dogged persistence. Surely even Ben would soon get the message: Callie was not for him.

The fact that she was not for Rex, either, was beside the point.

That didn’t keep Rex from worrying that Dolent might be at the house making a nuisance of himself while he was out in the field trying to replace the drive chain on the baler. He finally decided that he didn’t have the proper tools to repair the baler in the field. Hot, tired, disgusted and frustrated, Rex hitched the thing to the ranch truck and hauled it back to the barn.

He thought Callie might come out to see what was up, but she seemed as determined to keep her distance from him as he ought to keep his distance from her. At least Dolent wasn’t within sight.

Rex left the baler in the barn and called an early end to the workday. It was Saturday, after all. Not that work on the ranch ever let up.

He walked into the house to find two things that shocked him: it was cool, and Callie had just pushed Wes into the living room in the hated wheelchair that he’d vowed never to use.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor,” Wes grumbled. “I got sick of that bed, but the living room is a long way from my bedroom. Besides, Callie pointed out that I could get to church tomorrow if I was willing to give this chair a go.”

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