The Rancher's Lullaby. Leigh Duncan

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СКАЧАТЬ idea. I never would have said...” Or thought. Her voice faded into nothingness.

      “How could you know?” Sarah asked. “We’ve been walking on eggshells around him ever since, but even we say things that dredge up the past.”

      Doris swiped at her eyes. “I’m just going to tuck LJ in, and I’ll be back.” A shuddery breath eased out of her. “Then, you can tell us all about yourself.”

      Left alone with the owner’s wife, Lisa cast about for a topic far away from babies and their fathers. At last she pointed to a guitar that hung from a soft leather strap on the wall. “Who plays?” she asked.

      “Ty used to strum a little.” Sarah sank onto the couch. She picked up a napkin from the coffee table and slid it under one of the glasses. A soft smile played about her lips. “He was sitting at the campfire, playing a song when I first realized I’d fallen for him.”

      Lisa nodded. That ability to reach people on an emotional level was one of the things she liked best about performing.

      Sarah blinked, and the dreamy look faded from her face. “Garrett, he plays some, too.”

      But talking about the tall, wounded rancher was exactly what Lisa didn’t want to do. Abandoning the guitar, she wove her way through an eclectic mix of chairs and couches toward a banjo on the opposite side of the fireplace. “It’s not often you find one with a calfskin head,” she said, eyeing the round bottom half. “These days, most people use synthetic because it lasts longer. Do you mind?”

      At Sarah’s acquiescent shrug, Lisa lifted the instrument from the wall. She took a minute to admire the mother-of-pearl inlays and gold-plated hardware, but frowned at the smudge marks her fingers left on the dust-covered fingerboard. A muted thump echoed through the room when she tapped the skin. She plucked the strings, her dissatisfaction deepening with each sour note. The banjo was badly out of tune, the head stretched, possibly beyond repair.

      “I see you found my husband’s banjo. Do you pick?” Doris asked on her way down the stairs. From somewhere in the house, the baby wailed.

      Despite LJ’s cries, Lisa caught the faint hope in the woman’s voice. “I’m a fair hand,” she answered the same way Tiger Woods might admit he played a little golf.

      “I haven’t heard anyone pluck those old strings since...” Doris plopped onto one of the couches, a faraway look filling her pale eyes. She snapped back quickly. “Of my five boys, Hank’s the only one who took up the banjo. He can manage simple tunes, but he hasn’t had much free time since he and Kelly took over the Bar X.”

      “That’s a mighty fine instrument to let collect dust.” Lisa brushed her fingers down the rosewood neck. “I can take it into my shop if you’d like. Tighten the head or replace it, if need be. A new set of strings will make a world of difference.”

      “It’s fine just the way it is.” Returning from the kitchen carrying a glass of tea, Garrett’s long strides quickly ate up the space between them. Grasping the banjo, he stepped so close Lisa caught the faintest whiff of aftershave mixed with the not unpleasant smell of a man who’d spent a large part of his day outdoors.

      Lisa eyed the strong, male fingers that clutched the instrument. Getting into a tug of war with Garrett was not where she wanted to go this evening. Even as Doris asked her to play a tune, she relinquished her grip.

      “There’s no such thing as playing a banjo softly,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t want to disturb the baby.” Not that it mattered. From the sound of his cries, it’d be a long time before LJ settled down for the night.

      But Doris’s crestfallen look stirred a desire to offer up a compromise. Daring him to argue, Lisa hiked a brow at Garrett. “They say you play the guitar. Do you know ‘Angels Rock Me to Sleep’?” The old standard was a favorite with most novices.

      The man had the audacity to grunt before, acting as if he was marching to the guillotine, he traded the banjo for the guitar. The moment he strummed the strings, though, his demeanor shifted. He leaned in, focusing on the music, the tension and anger literally melting from his face.

      She’d definitely had worse accompaniment, Lisa thought as she sang the uncomplicated melody. Calling on long-honed skills, she compensated whenever Garrett skipped a note or ran into a timing issue. As they ended the song, she smiled at him. Her breath caught as something shifted in his blue eyes in the instant before he looked away. She coughed, hoping to dislodge an unwanted reaction to the brusque cowboy. Despite her efforts, sensations she hadn’t felt in far too long shot through her, and she straightened.

      “Imagine that.” Doris’s awed voice whispered into the quiet that filled the room as the last notes faded. “Sounds like LJ drifted off. He never goes to sleep that easy.”

      “That was lovely, just lovely,” Sarah added from her perch on the arm of one of the couches. She glanced at the doorway, where Ty and Jimmy stood. A knowing look passed between the owners of the ranch before Sarah said, “I think she’ll be perfect for the roundup, don’t you?”

      Lisa tugged her braid over one shoulder and ran her fingers through the ends. “What roundup?” she asked. And what does it have to do with me?

      Ty crossed the room to his wife’s side. “People from all over the country come to the Circle P’s annual fall roundup. Each evening, after supper, we usually provide some kind of entertainment. We thought you might like the job.”

      Garrett shot Ty a challenging glance. “What’s wrong with sitting around the campfire, swapping stories and singing songs like we’ve always done?”

      Across the room, Doris’s lips pursed. “Someone would have to lead the group. None of the ranch hands are particularly talented. Ty’s too busy. And you haven’t touched a guitar in—” her voice faltered “—in nearly a year.”

      In an admission of guilt, Garrett slumped in his chair. “Seems to me you could find someone local,” he muttered.

      “Lisa here is local,” Ty pointed out.

      Clearly unhappy with the owner’s choice, Garrett gave him a pointed look. “What about Dickey Gayner? He’s pretty good.”

      “That kid who plays at Cowboys?” Ty’s forehead wrinkled.

      “Yeah, him.”

      Doris broke in again. “Word around town yesterday was Dickey landed a gig that’ll keep him on the road till Christmas.”

      A tiny grin worked its way onto Sarah’s lips. “I bet hearts were breaking all over Okeechobee at that news.” She turned to Lisa and added, “Dickey’s been the cause of more than one dust-up at Cowboys on Saturday nights. Fancies himself a ladies’ man.”

      Ty squared around to face Lisa. “I know you have the shop to consider, but you could stay in town during the day and join us at night.”

      “That sounds like a pretty good deal, but I don’t think...” Lisa began.

      “We’re willing to pay a fair price,” the owner insisted. He tossed out a figure.

      Lisa blinked. The amount was more than she’d expected and would definitely help keep her store afloat until business improved. “I can bring my banjo and pick a little.” She tapped her finger against СКАЧАТЬ