The Rancher and the Runaway Bride

The older man grumbled something she couldn’t hear.

“Was that an ‘uh-huh’ I heard?”

He glared at her, pale blue eyes piercing her like steel blades. She met his gaze and didn’t dare blink. If this was a test of wills, she was determined to, if not win, at least earn his respect.

Tex was in his late forties and had the permanent tan of a man who spent most of his life outdoors. He sported a trimmed mustache. His receding hairline had reached his crown and the hair that remained was trimmed regulation short. Once a marine, always a marine.

He looked away first. “If you have enough time to be mouthing off with me, you might as well help me feed Princess and the cats. Their bowls are in there.” He motioned to a lower cupboard under the counter next to the sink.

She pulled open the door and saw a half-dozen medium-size stainless steel bowls stacked inside of one another.

“We need ’em all,” he told her, then walked into the pantry. He returned with two large cans of cat food and a smaller one of dog food. “Take three into the pantry. There’s a barrel full of dry food for the cats. Fill ’em with that and set ’em out. You can change their water while you’re at it.”

“Sure,” Randi said, resisting the urge to add “sir.” Tex didn’t strike her as a man who would have been an officer, and no doubt he would bite her head off for calling a noncom “sir.”

She did as he ordered, scooping out the fishy-smelling dry food. The back door was partially open. She nudged it wider and prepared to step outside. Instead she paused, staring openmouthed.

The animals obviously knew it was feeding time. A group of maybe fifteen or twenty cats scampered toward the kitchen. Princess brought up the rear, jogging in step with her cats, moving to the left or the right to keep them in formation. A calico dashed ahead. A quick bark from Princess brought the feline up short.

Randi laughed. “I’m looking right at them and I can’t believe it.”

“Princess knows her business and the cats listen. You gonna stand there or are you gonna feed them?”

“I thought I might do a little of both,” she said, giving him a smile over her shoulder, then stepping onto the porch and setting down the two bowls she held. She waited for Tex to follow her out before she returned for the third bowl of dry food.

He could carry more than she could, and he held three bowls of canned cat food in one arm. Princess’s dish was in his other hand. The animals swarmed around. Rita set down the last of the dry food, then cleaned out water bowls and refilled them. By the time she’d finished, Tex had settled on the top step and was lighting a cigar. He waved it at her.

“I know it’s smelly and not good for me, so there’s no point in you mentioning the fact.”

“Okay, I won’t.” She plopped down next to him, figuring if he hadn’t wanted company he would have sat in the middle so there was no room for her, instead of off to one side. She turned her head to watch the cats. “I think there’s more food than they can eat.”

“Yup. The dry food will stay out all day. I take it in at night because we don’t want pests around the place.”

“Don’t the cats take care of that?”

“Not the big pests. They could hurt the cats. Princess, too, if she decided to play protector. And she would.”

He blew smoke. Randi had never cared for the smell of cigars or pipes, but she wasn’t about to tell Tex that. Not that he would care or listen. She was the outsider here; it was up to her to fit in with everyone else.

“You were up early,” he said after a while.

“So were you. I saw the lights on in the kitchen.”

He nodded. “I made coffee, if you want some.”

“Thanks, but Brady said I could make some there. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother. If it was, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“What a gracious charmer,” she said without thinking. “You must be really popular with the ladies.”

Instead of snapping at her, he grinned. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

“So, you just pretend to be a cranky old man?”

“I’m not so old.”

Rita glanced at him. “It’s all an act, isn’t it? This tough-guy thing.”

“I can be tough.”

“That’s right. I bet you were a marine. How long were you in?”

“Twenty years.”

She pulled her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. The morning was already warm, and the afternoon would be sweltering. But for now, it was pleasant. The smells from the barn took the edge off the scent of the cigar. It wasn’t as horrible as she would have thought.

“After twenty years with the marines, how did you end up here?”

“Just like everyone else. I had nowhere else to go.” He bit down on his cigar. “Brady’s daddy hired me. I needed the job, so I agreed to take it for the summer. That was ten years ago and I’m still here.”

“Do you have any plans to move on?”

“Nope. I like it here. First place I’ve ever called home. Except the Corps. What about you?”

As she’d asked questions about him, it was only fair that he got to ask a few about her. Randi stared out at the yard as, one by one, the cats finished with breakfast and strolled off for their post-breakfast grooming.

“I’m not from around here,” she began tentatively.

“You don’t say.”

She shot him a glance and smiled. “I’ve never been a marine.”

“Shoot, you probably don’t have any tattoos, either.”

“Not a one.”

He shook his head. “Guess there’s no hope for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I learn quickly.”

“Have any plans to move on?” he asked, repeating the same question she’d asked him.

Their answers were going to be different. “Yes,” she said simply, then waited for him to ask her when.

He didn’t. He puffed on the cigar for a few minutes, then said, “You might want to think about staying around long enough to meet Brady’s folks. They’re good people. You’ll like ‘em. They’re a close family with big hearts. They make all of us feel like part of the group, especially at the holidays. Vi cooks up a big turkey. Won’t let me help with anything. I make a few pies the day before, but that’s it.”

“They sound nice.” Different from her own family, she thought. Her mother would never invite the help to the table. She never even thought to give them the day off. Holidays were a time to entertain, to be seen at the correct parties, to give the correct gifts. That was somewhere else Randi had always fallen short. She refused to let go of the belief that gifts should come from the heart instead of from a certain store or catalog.