Counting On The Cowboy. Shannon Vannatter Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ it for her. “Where do you want these?”

      “On the back pew will be fine.”

      He set down her containers. “Is that all?”

      “Yes.” It would help if he stashed everything in the loft for her, but that would mean having him stick around. “Thanks. I can take it from here.”

      He tipped his hat and exited. Through the side window, she saw him hurry toward the long building that housed a dozen hands and the foreman, Troy. His temporary home.

      She had to concentrate on the chapel and the fishing cabin. Not the cowboy.

      * * *

      Barely daylight, Brock nailed the final board into place on the play station in the goat pen. A buck, barely two feet tall, nibbled his elbow. And they said cats were curious.

      “Just give me a minute, little guy, and I’ll get out of your way.” He gathered his tools, slipped them in his belt and took a step back. Just as soon as he was out of the way, all five bucks climbed on the station, wrestling their way to the top. The matching structure in the doe’s pen was getting used as well. He slipped out the gate, fastened it back.

      He’d never built such a thing, but he’d gotten ideas off the internet last night. Apparently, good ones. With wire fencing in place and two more wooden rails at the top, they should stay in now.

      Next on the agenda, he planned to caulk the fishing cabin and make the repairs there. He needed to keep busy. Keep his mind off the pretty redhead. And his mother. On his first official day as handyman, he’d already set up a time for the demolition of the old storm cellar by the chapel.

      He loaded an assortment of lumber he hadn’t used into his truck and drove over to the barn. Once the fishing cabin and Chase’s new house were complete, getting his friend moved before the baby came would be his priority.

      After that, he’d focus on whatever else needed fixing. But hopefully, he wouldn’t be here long.

      As he stacked the wood neatly back where he’d found it, a prickle of awareness swept over him. Someone watching. He glanced around and saw movement in the loft. A moment later, a child’s head popped up, then ducked again.

      “Are you supposed to be up there alone?”

      Busted, she came out of hiding, peered down at him. “My grandpa had to take guests to their room and I sort of slipped out. But I’m real careful when I climb in the loft and I can hear the bus when it gets to Cheyenne’s house. She lives next door. Once I hear it, I can run to the road. And I’m real fast.” She climbed down to reveal light brown hair and freckles. First grade maybe.

      “You shouldn’t slip out on your grandpa like that. He’ll worry.”

      “I’ll be back before he knows I’m gone. I’m Ruby.”

      “I’m Brock.”

      “I know who you are.” She plopped on a hay bale. “You’re my uncle.”

      A hollow weight settled in his chest. Had his mom had another child—his sibling?

      “But I’m not supposed to tell anybody. It’s me and Mama’s secret. I’m real good at keeping secrets. I figured you already knew, so I don’t gotta keep it from you.”

      He swallowed hard. “So who’s your mama?”

      “You haven’t met her yet. Her name’s Scarlet. My grandma’s favorite color was red. So she named Mama Scarlet and Mama named me Ruby to memorialize her.”

      “Like I said, you best get back before your grandpa misses you.”

      She gasped. “There’s the bus.” She waved, then bolted for the ranch house as fast as her little legs would carry her. Minutes later, he heard the bus stop at the end of the drive. It didn’t tarry long before driving past.

      Scarlet? Did he have a sister? But red had never been his mom’s favorite color. At least when he’d lived with her anyway. Maybe the child was confused? Or playing a game?

      A scream echoed through the morning stillness.

      Brock bolted in the direction it came from.

      Another shriek from Gramp’s old fishing cabin.

      He charged full force.

      On the porch, Devree held something small with pliers. She dropped both with a screech and did a little dance in her high heels.

      “What’s wrong?”

      She whirled in his direction, her business-style skirt slim-fitting at her knees. Wild-eyed, mouth open and pulled down at the corners, she looked ready to let out another blood-curdling shriek. She sucked in a breath, shuddered. “A mouse. Its tail was caught in a trap.”

      “Where?” He climbed the porch steps, tried to hold in his laughter.

      She propped her hands on her hips. “It’s not funny. I turned it loose.” She pointed to the end of the cabin. “It ran off over there.”

      He took in the trap laying nearby along with two sets of pliers. “You know,” he said, unable to control his grin. “If you turn it loose, it’ll most likely come right back in.”

      “I couldn’t take all that squealing.” She covered her ears with both hands. “From the moment I got here. Snap! Snap! Snap! And the poor little thing went to squealing.”

      “What’s wrong?” Chase sprinted in their direction still wearing his robe.

      “Nothing.” Her hands dropped away from her head. “I didn’t wake Landry did I?”

      “No.” His brows rose. “Why were you screaming about nothing?”

      She repeated her story, shrugged as if it was no big deal. “When I turned him loose, he darted toward my foot. I might have yelled a bit. Just a little adrenaline kicking in. But I’m fine. And the mouse is too.”

      “You should have killed him.” Chase tightened the belt on his robe. “He’ll only come back inside.”

      “I know, but he was crying. And he was kind of cute.”

      Chase cut his gaze to the sky, as if trying to keep from rolling his eyes. “Are there any dead ones in other traps?”

      She pulled in a shaky breath. “I think so.”

      “I’ll empty them for you.”

      “I’ll take care of it.” Brock stepped up on the porch. “Just tell me where they are.”

      “Under the kitchen and bathroom counters, behind the trash can in the kitchen, living room and bedroom.”

      “I’m on it. What about getting some cats?”

      “Good idea.” Chase ran a hand through his bed head. “If you have any more live ones, call me.”

      “I’m fine.” СКАЧАТЬ