Help Wanted: WIFE (Santa Rita Series) (4 page)

“Of course I’m thinking of it, Cole. Every minute of every day. I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t been serious about the possibility of staying. It’s a good life here. And the ranch, well, it’s demanding. I know you—all of you—work hard, but it seems to me there’s something good to work for. It’s building on what you have and making your own future.”

Having Cole’s arm around her felt right. When he drew her closer, oh, that felt right, too. With a solemn nod, as if an unspoken question had been answered, he bent and kissed her. Cherilyn’s heart seemed to stop, then beat frantically, blood rushing to her head. Her vision narrowed to the face looking down at her.

“I’m not sure I got that right, Cherry. Just to be certain, maybe I should try it again.”

Her knees almost failed to hold her. “If you get it any more right, I might not recover.”

He kissed her again, his arms tightening to hold her against him. “I’ll hang on to you, young lady. Having you right here feels real natural, like you were meant to be next to me.” He stroked her hair, his long fingers making her quake inside. “You’re going to stay, aren’t you, Cherry? You wouldn’t go away? I didn’t remember what ‘home’ was all about till you came and reminded me. Don’t think I could handle you going back. Don’t want to think about it, anyway.”

“I hoped you’d want me to stay. I’ve been happy here, feeling like I was part of a family again.”

He held her head against his shoulder, where she discovered his heart was pounding as hard as hers. “Maybe we should head on back and start talking about making plans. We’ve never said a word about any future more distant than when the next bus comes through.” He kissed her again. “Don’t think Monday’s gonna be the end of time for us, do you?”

“I might have thought so yesterday, but not now.”

****

Cherilyn didn’t think about much of anything as the truck rolled along the country road in the starlight. Cole reached over to take her hand and hold it against him as the wheels rumbled over the gravel. The radio picked up a station in San Antonio playing an evening concert. She didn’t recognize the music, but it made a silvery background for the drive. They didn’t talk, by silent agreement saving their plans for the time when they could sit in the porch glider, close together, and share thoughts and dreams.

Still lost in hopes and plans, Cherilyn barely noticed when Cole turned into the lane that led to the rutted path running up to the ranch house. He squeezed her hand.

“I didn’t pick up the mail before we left. Guess I might ought to go on and get it. Mind going to the end of the lane before we talk?”

“I could get out here and walk down to the house, have some sweet tea ready when you get back. I think Nate may have left a few of the cookies I made yesterday.”

“Walkin’ down in your dancing shoes? You sure?”

“I’m sure. They’re flats, not heels, and the path is clear. I’ll have tea for you when you get there. You won’t be more than ten minutes behind me.”

Cole got out, opened the gate, and helped her down from the pickup. “Less than ten minutes, Cherry. This truck can sail over gullies and leap boulders when it needs to.”

Cherilyn waved as Cole refastened the gate, jumped back behind the wheel, and roared on down the lane.
Making plans, building a home, a life together in a place where I’m wanted and needed.
She hugged herself and hurried along toward the ranch house. As she rounded the bend where she could see the long front porch, Cherilyn noticed the front rooms were still lit. Wedges of yellow light spilled out over the porch, cutting a swath through the night.

Is Davis back? Are he and Abe still awake?
She bit her lip in vexation. With the two men still up, probably playing checkers and devouring the last of the cookies, she and Cole would have precious little chance of some privacy. As she drew nearer, Cherilyn heard a raised voice.
An argument? Davis doesn’t argue with anyone. He doesn’t talk enough to argue. And Abe doesn’t give anyone a chance to answer back.

As she hurried along the path, she heard more noises—the sharp yelp of a dog, a man’s hoarse yell, and above all, the screech of an enraged cat. Arabella! Something had happened to Arabella!

Gathering her flimsy skirts, Cherilyn ran the last few yards, pounded up the front porch steps, and threw her weight against the door. It gave way, toppling her straight into Abe. Something clattered to the floor.

“Stand back, girl. Don’t get in the way. We got some kind of wild varmint in the house. It might attack. Stand back till I get my gun and can draw a bead on the critter.” Another yelp punctuated his outburst, and Reb thudded across the floor and pushed between them, tail between his legs, to take shelter under a corner table half his height.

In the opposite corner, with fur standing on end to double her size, Arabella dug her claws into the back of a quivering rocking chair and let loose a blood-freezing shriek. Abe scrambled for the gun on the floor.

“Stay behind me, Cherry. I can take that wildcat down. You’re safe.”

“You’re not going to shoot a cat!” She knew she was screaming at the old man, but he wasn’t paying any attention. He was totally focused on his aim. She shoved his shoulder—hard—and saw his unsteady hand drop. Slapping the gun from his loosened grip, she caught it as it fell. He grabbed for it. “No! You aren’t going to shoot that cat.”

“Hell I’m not!” He pointed at Arabella, who was clinging to the upholstery and hissing at the uproar. Her erect tail was a bush of orange fur and her yellow eyes glared with fury. “That ain’t no reg’lar cat, Cherry. That’s some mad, wild thing come up from the river bottom. Don’t know how it got in here, but Reb knew it was here. Ran between my feet, right into the house. Kept sniffing and whining at your door, and when I opened it, that—that
thing
busted out and attacked him! Cat, my hind foot. That thing is tetched, plain tetched.
Cats
don’t go chasing down dogs, not Reb’s kind of dog. You gotta let me git rid of it, put it down, before it jumps one of us.”

Cherilyn pulled away from his grip, carefully put the gun on top of the mantel, and went quietly toward her enraged feline. Holding out her hand, she spoke softly. “Arabella, did that big dog come poking his nose into your place? Did he do that? Did he scare you, baby?” She was close enough to reach out. With a slow touch she stroked the flaring ruff, gently picking the cat up. Arabella struggled for a minute, but Cherilyn didn’t let go or stop her soothing words. The cat seemed to realize she was safe and ducked her head against Cherilyn’s neck. Still stroking, she moved toward the bedroom, carrying the cat to sanctuary.

“Ain’t natural, that’s what. Cat chasing a dog. I tell you…”

Abe’s words followed her, but Cherilyn closed the door between them. She sank down on the bed, holding Arabella, shaken at how close she’d come to losing her precious furry friend. “It’s all right now, sweet thing, it’s all right.” She crooned to the cat, but her words were an attempt to ease her own fears as much as Arabella’s. She was still sitting there, stroking the russet fur, when the door opened and Cole stepped in.

“You’re not hurt?”

Cherilyn stared in surprise. “No, no, of course not. Arabella is all right now, too.”

Cole shut the door and leaned against it. “Abe told me what happened. Reb looking for some critter in the house and the cat jumping him, all that.”

“He told me.” She put Arabella on the bed and stood up. “He was going to shoot Arabella, Cole.” She barely kept her voice from shaking and her eyes burned with angry, unshed tears. Forcing back the urge to throw herself into his arms and cry out her fright, Cherilyn turned to face him. “If I’d been a minute or two later…” Her words died. The thought was too horrible to finish.

Cole was silent. He raked long fingers through sandy hair, his forehead puckered in thought. “We’ve got to think practical about this, Cherry. About the cat, I mean.” He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Look at what happened. The cat attacked Reb. She came at him, by what Abe says, with claws and teeth, screaming like hell’s own demon. It was the dog this time, but good night! It coulda been you—or Nate—or anybody. It’s hard, Cherry, I know, but facts are facts. The cat’s dangerous. Vicious. I think Abe’s right about that, and we need to put her down before she hurts somebody.”

Cherilyn felt the room spin. She grabbed the window ledge for support. “Put her…down? Kill Arabella?”

“It’s the sensible thing, Cherry.”

“No!” Cherilyn stood up straight. “No, you will not kill my cat! She’s mine, my cat, and that’s not going to happen.”

He reached out an importuning hand. “I told you from the start I wasn’t comfortable letting a cat live in the house with us.” She evaded his touch, but he moved toward her. “Looks like I was right. You’ve got to think through this, Cherry, think clear.” His hand was heavy on her shoulder, and his grasp almost painfully tight. “You’re a practical woman, and when you’ve weighed it all, you’ll see it’s the only thing to do. I hate having to say it, because I know you set a store by the animal, but there it is.” He shrugged and looked across the bed to where Arabella was still smoothing her ruffled fur. “It’s not just Abe’s superstition this time. He’s made a strong argument, one I can’t gainsay.” Cole retreated to the door and opened it. “I know you need some time to come to terms with this, so I’m gonna go calm Abe down a bit. I’ll be back and…and take care of things. Remember, it’s just a cat.”

Cherilyn watched him close the door. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t get words out. But words wouldn’t stop him or make him see reason. He wouldn’t back down or even listen. She stood stock still for a moment, conquering the hard sob that choked her, then opened the closet, brought out her suitcases, and unfastened Arabella’s wire cage. “It was a good dream while it lasted, wasn’t it? We almost had a family, a home, a place where we belonged. But it’s going to be all right, Arabella, and nobody is going to hurt you. We just have to go away from here, go someplace where people have real hearts and know you’re not ‘just a cat.’ We’ll be fine.” Her voice broke, but she reached over the pile on the bed and rubbed the tufted ears. “Wherever we go, it’s going to be in a place where a big orange cat is welcome.” She closed her eyes for a second, pushing her fear and anger aside, and got on with packing. Cole could either drive her into town tonight, or she’d sit on the porch and wait to ask for a ride from Nate’s friends when they brought him home. Either way, she’d not spend another night where Arabella was threatened.

****

“You, my little brother, are some kind of a damned fool. What kind I can’t say just yet, but soon as I find the words for it, I’m gonna cuss you all the way up the hills and clear down to the cellar. For now it’s enough just to say you are a damned, no, a
twice-damned
fool.”

The week since Cherry left had been one long, miserable string of silent days and lonely nights. Cole didn’t want to hear whatever lecture Davis was starting. Irritated at so many words—so many
angry
words—coming from his brother, Cole dropped the checker piece he’d been turning around in his hand. “Meaning what? In what particular way am I a twice-damned fool?”

Davis shoved his chair back from the table and stomped across the kitchen floor. He stared out the window long enough for a cloud to pass across the moon. At last he turned slowly so Cole saw his face in the dim light. “Do you or do you not love that little lady you brought out here to marry? Have you decided to sit out here watching the years drift away and become as much of a dried-up hermit as your uncle and your brother? Or are you gonna go do something about your sorry self?”

Cole didn’t see how he could answer Davis, when he’d asked himself the same questions every hour for most of the week. “Don’t rightly see there’s anything to be done,” he said at last.

“Well, you might start by admitting you were on the far side of dumb to go and make some jackass threat against her cat.”

“Wasn’t wrong. Abe said the cat attacked Reb, and you’ve seen the claw marks on his muzzle and ears yourself. Dangerous, that crazy cat, just plain dangerous.”

Davis shook his head, half laughing and half dead serious. “You remember telling me about some five-foot-three GI in your unit who took on a whole machine gun nest of Germans? Remember telling me the little squirt had more raw courage than any man you ever saw, no matter what his size?”

“Yes, I told that story a dozen times or more. Still think Bennett was the bravest man in the outfit. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Davis turned his back to pour another cup of bad coffee. “What about a little five-foot-five blonde who weighs maybe a hundred and ten pounds telling off some six-foot-two loudmouth who outweighs her by a hundred pounds? Standing up for something that wasn’t much of anything to him but meant a lot to her. Think that took a good-sized chunk of courage?”

Cherry? Was his brother comparing Cherry to that half-pint soldier who saved a half dozen lives with his sheer refusal to quit? “I reckon you mean it took some kind of backbone for Cherry to walk out of here before she’d…”

“Before she’d let you put a bullet in that cat of hers.” Davis grimaced at the bitter brew in his cup and tossed it down the sink. “If she’d fight like that for a cat, walk away from a life she wanted more than she wanted her next breath—hell, Cole, do you have any idea how far she’d go to protect a man she loved, or for that matter, his kids?”

“She’s stubborn, all right. Stubborn right through to the core.”

“Stubborn? Is that what you call it?” Davis plopped down in the chair across from him. “I’d call it grit, or maybe I’d look for one of those fancy words. Yeah, I think maybe I’d say she had character. Of course, it’s possible I value that trait more than you do. Maybe you were just looking for some mealy-mouthed housemaid who’d take your word as law and jump when you called. Me, I’d have more regard for a woman who’d stand up and tell me when I’d rushed headlong down the wrong road.”