Life After Wife (14 page)

“I might later,” she said.

“OK, I was born in Silverton, Texas. It’s out in the panhandle plains where there is nothing but dirt and sky. Go a few miles north and you’ll fall off the world into the Tule and Palo Duro Canyons, but mostly it’s flatland good for cattle and cotton. My folks had a big cotton operation, and I swore if I ever got away from cotton fields, I’d never go back. Dad died five years ago; Momma followed him the next year. My brothers and I sold the cotton farm and split the money. I wished a thousand times since then that I’d bought them out and kept it.”

“If you had, would you have sold me your half of this place?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I like these rolling hills and trees, and I always felt peaceful when I visited Uncle Jesse and Aunt Maud here. When I found out I’d inherited half of the ranch, I felt like I was coming home.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Eight.”

She grabbed the juice and gulped it down to keep from choking.

“Eight! You are kiddin’ me, right?”

“No. Momma wanted a girl so she kept trying to get one. All she got was nine boys. I’m right in the middle. Four older. Four younger.”

“No girls?”

He shook his head. “You ought to go to one of our family reunions. Dad came from a big family. Had seven brothers and no sisters. There’re only half a dozen cousins that are girls. The rest are guys. Makes a wonderful Sunday afternoon for football.”

“I bet it does. What do those poor girls do?” Sophie asked.

“They play football with us. Joneses are tough,” he grinned. “How about you? Got brothers?”

“I’ve got two sisters. Layla is just younger than I am, and Sandy is twenty-six. No brothers.”

Elijah frowned. “Poor baby.”

“What?” Sophie’s hackles rose.

“A girl needs a big brother to protect her.”

“And a boy needs at least one sister to learn about girls,” she shot back.

He chuckled again. “Them two sisters redheaded spitfires like you?”

She shook her head. “No, they have brown hair and brown eyes like Momma. Daddy has black hair, but his grandmother was full-blood Irish, complete with red hair, green eyes, and a temper. I got the hair and temper from her, and the eyes from Daddy.”

“Pretty nice combination, but you could have wallowed around in the temper DNA a little less,” he said.

She bristled again. “And I suppose you don’t have a temper?”

He grinned. “Of course I’ve got a temper, but my Indian blood keeps it in check.”

“Yeah, right! On that note, I’m taking one more doughnut and heading to the barn. The caterer’s wagons are pulling down the lane.” She pointed to the kitchen window, and, sure enough, a line of trucks was pulling trailers going in that direction.

Elijah walked behind her, taking in the sight of her long legs. The shorts and cowboy boots were the finishing touch. She’d never been prettier than she was at that moment.

The barn was already crawling with people when they arrived. Kendall, Randy, and Frankie were helping carry folding tables of various sizes inside. The supervisor of the service was a big, burly man dressed in striped overalls, a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and dusty cowboy boots.

Sophie made introductions. “Hello, Tillman. Meet Elijah. He’s half owner of the ranch now. We are running it together.”

“He is not what I expected,” Elijah said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Hush! You’ll be amazed how well he cleans up when this part of the job is done,” she whispered back.

Elijah took two more steps and stuck out his hand. “Good to meet you. Thank you for taking on extra days on such short notice.”

Tillman’s shake was bone crunching. “We didn’t have nothing else on the calendar, so we’re glad for the work. Ain’t never seen this barn so clean. Looks like a dance hall instead of a sale barn. This is going to be a fun gig. Wish Maud would have given us a free hand like this.”

“Sophie told you what we want?” Elijah asked.

“Yes, she did. We’ll have it up and running by noon. Drinks ready for the lookers, and music playing,” Tillman said.

Elijah looked at Sophie.

She shrugged. “No live band until the sale dance. Tillman has a nephew who’s a DJ on a local radio station. He’s brought some equipment, and he’ll set up and keep country music going until ten tonight. Tomorrow, he’ll start at eight in the
morning and end at ten at night, and then the next day is the sale, so it’ll be loud and noisy with the auctioneer.”

“You take care of a lot,” Elijah said.

Tillman nodded. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“I believe it. What can I do to help?” Elijah asked.

“Well, you can take over my job supervisin’ where the tables are to go and which way you want them lined up, and I’ll go ahead and start a couple of grills back behind the barn and blow the smell inside. We’ll be making shish kebabs with beef chunks for today’s finger foods,” Tillman threw over his shoulder as he headed toward the second trailer to tell the guys to unload the grills.

“So?” Sophie poked Elijah on the arm.

“All right! He’s good, and I’m glad you hired him,” Elijah said.

“Thank you. Did that hurt very much?”

“You punch like a girl. I’ve had mosquito bites that hurt worse,” he said.

She giggled. “I wasn’t talking about that little”—she stopped before she said “love tap” and paused—“that little air slap. I was talking about admitting that I was right to keep Tillman and his crew.”

“Oh, honey, you will never know how bad that hurt.” Elijah placed a hand over his heart and rolled his eyes. “But I won’t die from the pain.”

“Oh, stop the theatrics, and let’s get on to our jobs. I was thinking that the tables should be set up randomly until the party night. Then we’ll put them diagonally toward the dance floor so everyone can see the band.”

Elijah nodded. “Sounds like a good plan to me. Give them room to talk and visit about the sale stock while they nibble
on Tillman’s finger foods. I was afraid you’d order cucumber sandwiches and fruit dip.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Aunt Maud would claw her way up out of that grave and use a peach tree switch on me for a stunt like that. This is a cattle sale. We’ll serve beef in all its forms, from shish kebabs to steaks. Dang! Cucumber sandwiches? Give me a little credit.”

Elijah threw back his head and roared. “Got you almost cussin’ mad with just one sentence. You really did get your granny’s temper.”

At noon they both rushed back to the house to clean up for the first of the lookers. She took a fast shower and donned crisp, ironed designer jeans; her red cowboy boots; and a red-and-white-checked, Western-cut shirt with a wide lace yoke. She applied mousse to her curls, taming them into a manageable hairstyle, and slapped her new red cowboy hat on her head.

Elijah was waiting for her in the dining room. He wore creased jeans stacked up over black eel dress boots; a big silver buckle embossed with a bull rider; a white Western, pearl-snap shirt open at the neck; and he smelled like heaven on a stick.

Sophie clamped her jaw shut so tightly that it ached. But it kept it from falling open like a fish out of water.

Elijah offered her his arm. “You look pretty spiffy. One of these ranchers is liable to try to talk you into going home with him.”

She slipped her arm through his. “Only one?”

“Maybe the one from Australia?”

“I scared him off last year. He doesn’t want a woman who’s got an Irish temper. He wants someone to walk two steps behind him and tell him how wonderful he is.”

Elijah opened the door and stood to one side, but when they were outside, he tucked her arm back into his. It felt so right and natural, and maybe if the first of the prospective buyers saw them together, they wouldn’t flirt with Sophie.

Yeah, right!
his inner voice hollered at him.
They aren’t blind, and she’s a gorgeous woman. If you are interested, you’d best do more than offer her your arm.

Sophie’s face was frozen in a permanent smile. It’s a wonder her head hadn’t fallen completely off her shoulders from nodding at the buyers when they talked cattle and made cute ranching jokes. But she’d survived day one, and, even though it pained her to admit it, Elijah had been right. The buyers ate, drank, and stayed around longer than they did when refreshments weren’t there.

Cowboys propped a leg up on the corral fence and studied the cattle, marking numbers in their books that Elijah provided right along with ink pens. Both had the ranch brand and logo on them, so they were a tax write-off.

At least he said they were when they arrived by mail the day before, and he’d assured her the overnight express postage and merchandise were a wise investment when her eyebrows had jacked up toward the ceiling. Aunt Maud would have thrown a Texas-size hissy at such nonsense, but Sophie noticed several buyers showing them off to one another.

Finally, the day ended. The new ranch hands were tucked away in the bunkhouse. Frankie said they weren’t making food out there that night because they’d all sampled Tillman’s kebabs all day. Sophie had been too nervous for anything
more than a taste of the meat, peppers, and onions, so after her shower that evening, she was starving. She padded to the kitchen in her cotton terry-cloth robe and opened the refrigerator.

“Ain’t much there. I’m havin’ bologna and cheese,” Elijah whispered.

His warm breath on her still wet neck sent tingles down her spine. She straightened up so fast she bumped her shoulder on the refrigerator door.

“Why are you eating in the dark?” she asked.

“Don’t need a light to chew and swallow,” he said.

She left the refrigerator door hanging and flipped the light switch. When she turned around, Elijah was barely a foot from her. He wore plaid cotton pajama bottoms and a gauze undershirt that stretched over his muscles. The bologna and cheese sandwich in his hands was half gone, and a Dr Pepper sat on the cabinet beside him.

“You’re all out of Pepsi,” he said hoarsely. He’d thought she was gorgeous in her cowgirl getup that afternoon, but she was something else with her white fluffy robe belted around her tiny waist, a towel wrapped turban-style around her head, and bare feet.

She pulled out bologna, cheese, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and one of his Dr Peppers. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t find enough air in his deflated lungs to say a word.

Sophie ignored him and went about making a sandwich. She’d buy him a whole case of soda pop to replace the one she intended to drink right then, but she was not going to put it back if she had to whip his sorry rear end with one hand tied behind her. She’d hang onto her sandwich in her whipping hand and bet dollars to cow chips that she didn’t
even squash it during the fight. She was that thirsty, and iced tea just didn’t sound good.

“That looks pretty good,” he said.

“Want one?”

He nodded.

“It’s my famous sandwich. Worth a lot,” she told him.

“I won’t gripe about the Dr Pepper, if you’ll make me one.” He watched her slice the tomatoes thin and place them between the cheese and meat.

“Deal!” she said.

He chuckled. “I was too busy all day long to eat much, but it smelled good, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah! It was a wonderful idea. Kept the folks here, and the notepads and pens were a nice touch, too,” she said.

Elijah’s jaw went slack, and his mouth fell open. He was almighty glad there was no food in it. He popped his palm against the side of his head as if trying to knock something out of his ear.

“Oh, stop it.” Sophie laughed. “I’m not a coldhearted witch. I admit it when something is a good idea and works. Here, you can have this one, and I’ll make another for myself.” She cut it in half diagonally and handed the plate to him. “Throw a few barbecue potato chips on the side and you’ve got a meal fit for the gods.”

He opened the cabinet, rustled around until he found the chips, and carried them to the table. “Where’d you learn to make this?”

“At home. My dead ex-husband hated sandwiches. I can cook, but he made enough money that he hired a maid and a cook. She made meals to his specifications. Sometimes I got so tired of fancy food that I picked at it and later snuck off
to the kitchen for a bologna and cheese sandwich. I’ve eaten dozens of them sitting on the floor with the refrigerator door open for light.”

“Was he crazy? You should have sent him over to the war zone. Let him live on dehydrated soup and canned meat for a year, and he’d think he’d died and gone to heaven to get bologna and cheese,” Elijah said between bites.

“He was raised in a wealthy household and used to that kind of thing. I was raised up in a middle-class house. Oil and water don’t mix,” she said.

“What really happened between y’all?”

“He married me because he wanted a wife. Single television evangelists do not do as well as married ones. But he also wanted to continue to chase skirts. I have to admit that he was very discreet. I had no idea until I found a note and a jewelry receipt one day. A little investigation on my part, and a bunch of investigation on the part of a P.I., turned up more than I wanted to know. I was going to confront him about it, but he died in a plane crash on the way home. There were two women in the plane with him. His father and the publicist paid their families off and wanted to give me money to keep quiet,” she said.