A Cowboy at Heart Read online

  The door slammed. He wasn’t sure whether or not she’d heard him. He wondered what kind of contract she was talking about. Live-ins didn’t sign prenups that he was aware of, and Linc couldn’t think of another type of contract that would make her take such drastic measures.

  He knew that trying to figure her out would keep him awake, so he might as well hang out here on the porch. Or better still, make another circuit of the property. Grabbing his beer can, he swung off the porch.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALL THROUGH BREAKFAST Miranda felt Linc tracking her every move. She supposed he hadn’t liked being brushed off last night. It’d probably stung his ego. Men who looked like Lincoln Parker, especially those in his income bracket, were used to crooking a little finger and having women fall all over them. But a man needed more than looks and money to hold Miranda’s interest. He needed to be a lot like her dad. Humble, possessing a keen sense of humor, good at heart. That cowboy thing again.

  Parker could kiss, though. Miranda gave him that. If her situation had been different, that alone might tempt her to delve beneath his ever-changing surface.

  She hated being judged on superficial attributes, so if she was free to explore an honest relationship with anyone, the sparks they’d engendered last night would certainly be a place to start. Walking off, leaving him standing alone in all that glorious moonlight, had been damned difficult. Smart, however. She needed to avoid being alone with him in the future. That was the wisest course of action, she thought, feeling a weight shift as he stopped eyeing her and stood, ready to leave.

  Scraps started barking. “Well, boys,” Linc said, “guess we have company. I assume it’s our tractor and other implements being delivered. If you’re finished eating, grab your jackets and let’s go help them unload.”

  Miranda resisted an urge to dash out with Jenny and the younger kids to see what they were getting. She calmed the barking terrier and stayed behind to clear the table. Once that was done, she set about making lunches for the boys and Linc, who’d obviously changed his mind again about enrolling the kids in school. He’d said nothing about that or replenishing supplies. She felt oddly relieved.

  Busy assembling meat and cheese on the bread slices she’d laid out on the counter, Miranda didn’t hear Jenny come in until the girl spoke right behind her.

  “What tune are you humming, Randi? It’s got a catchy beat. But I don’t recognize it.”

  Humming as she worked had been Miranda’s method of creating a new song. She hadn’t realized she was doing it now. This was the first melody to spring up since she’d left Nashville. “Gosh, Jenny, you scared me. I don’t even know what I was humming.” Miranda brandished the knife she’d been using to spread mustard on the bread. “Probably some hit we heard on the radio the other night.”

  Jenny shook her head. “No. I’ve got a good ear for music.” Leaning her elbows on the counter, she whistled a few bars. “It went sort of like that.”

  Miranda worked hard to look blank. She’d have to be extra careful around Jenny. The girl did have an uncanny ear.

  “Did all the equipment get here?”

  Jenny nodded and bent to scratch Scraps’s ears. “The delivery dude left. Linc and the boys are out there looking at the manual that came with the tractor. Eric’s showing off like an idiot, ’cause he’s the only one of the entire bunch who’s ever set foot on a tractor. You’d think he invented the plow, for heaven’s sake.”

  “What’s his story, Jenny? I hate to pry, but Eric has a huge chip on his shoulder.”

  Jenny set Scraps down, washed her hands and began counting out plastic sandwich bags. Miranda wasn’t sure if the girl would talk about her friend. But after a few moments, Jenny said, “Eric’s mom was a dirt-poor migrant worker. His dad, who’s half Hispanic, half black, owns a small farm in north-central California. It sits between two big growers who tried everything to run Eric’s dad off his land. His mom wanted to take the money they offered, because she hated farming. Eric said his parents fought day and night about it. When he was twelve and his brother, Joe, was nine, their mom up and left. Eric claims that’s when his dad became a bully. Every few months they tried to find their mom, and each time social workers hauled them back to their dad and the beatings got worse. At fourteen, Eric ran away to L.A. He’s never checked to see what became of Joe, and I think he feels guilty about that.”

  “Not knowing what became of his brother must be awful.”

  “Yeah, but Eric’s still underage. Technically he’d be sent back to his dad. That’s why he avoids cops or anyone who smacks of authority.”

  “So what’ll he do when the woman from Social Services comes to relocate Wolfie, Cassie and Hana? She’s bound to want stats on everyone.”

  Jenny shrugged. “If she makes noises about shipping Eric home, he’ll bolt. I hope, since Parker has a license for the shelter and since he’s not applying for state aid or anything, maybe she’ll leave us alone.”

  “You think she might?” Miranda hoped Jenny was right. Heaven only knew what would happen if her real identity came to light. Unlike Eric, it wasn’t beatings she had to fear. But in his way, Carlisle was a bully, just like Eric’s dad. How many times had Wes said he owned her lock, stock and barrel?

  “If you’re done with the sandwiches, Randi, I’ll take them out to the guys.”

  “Thanks, Jen. I told Cassie I’d wash and braid her hair this morning. Right after that, I intend to begin cleaning up the living room. The bedrooms and kitchen look almost presentable. But the living and dining rooms still need a thorough vacuuming and scrubbing.”

  “Can you let Jenny do it?” Linc asked from the doorway, startling both women. “And will you keep an eye on the little kids for a couple of hours, Jen?”

  Miranda fumbled the knife she still held, but it was Jenny who demanded answers from Linc.

  “Like I said yesterday, I want to go sign Wolfie and Cassie up for classes,” he replied. “Since Eric’s way more adept at driving the tractor than I am, I’ll let him teach the others. This is a good time for Randi and me to run over to the school and fill out the papers needed to reinstate the kids.”

  Jenny frowned. “Can’t you go by yourself? Why do you need Randi?”

  “It was her idea. Besides, misery loves company.” Linc favored Jenny with a cheeky grin.

  Miranda acted nonchalant. “Since they attended that same school in the past, Jen, I doubt it’ll take long to enroll them. I’m hoping they haven’t missed so much school they’ll get shoved back a grade or something.”

  “It’s not as if they won’t be bounced again when Social Services moves them to another foster home,” Jenny muttered. “Anyway, you know I hate to baby-sit.”

  Unsure why she blamed Linc, Miranda nevertheless dealt him an accusing glare. “You mean the kids won’t remain with foster parents in this area?”

  “You’re both jumping to conclusions. The welfare office covers a big territory. We should wait and see what Mrs. Bishop has to say about their individual cases before we go making rash assumptions.”

  Miranda stuffed the last orange in a sack, then washed her hands. She turned to Jenny. “While you deliver lunches to Eric, Greg and Shawn, I’ll hunt down Cassie and tell her I’ll fix her hair as soon as I get back. Oh, we’d better put Linc’s lunch in the fridge. He can collect it later. Jenny, will you keep Scraps inside this morning? I don’t want him to get run over by the new tractor.”

  “You’d better hurry back.” Jenny gathered the bags and flounced out the door.

  “What bug bit her?” Linc mused aloud.

  “You’ve put her in charge of the little kids again without asking her permission. That’s precisely why she ran away from home, you know. Jenny got fed up always having to fill in for her mother.” She paused. “I thought last night you said we’d combine a trip to the school with a supply run into town.”

  “I did. But with Eric being so competent running the tractor, I decided it’d be more efficient to split
up the tasks today.” Linc pursed his lips. “Are you saying Jenny’s not trustworthy? I want to leave the kids in good hands.”

  “She’s trustworthy, but I’ll have a word with her first if you’d like.”

  “Please.” He sighed heavily. “Darn, I wish somebody would call about my ad.”

  “Maybe you’re searching for a housekeeper in the wrong place. The city shelters are filled with women down on their luck.”

  “Drunks and druggies? I don’t think so, Randi.”

  “They aren’t all degenerates. But it’s your call,” she said with a shrug. “How long shall I tell Jenny we’ll be gone? You said the boys need boots, gloves and work jeans. And the little kids need school clothes. Cassie just needs clothes, period.”

  “I know. I wrote a list of sizes except for you and Jenny. I thought two of us might be able to shop faster than if we all go.” He handed her his notebook. “If we take everyone, it’ll also knock out another full day of work. According to the morning weather report, by Thanksgiving we’ll be getting the first of the Pacific storms.”

  Miranda lifted her jacket off a peg near the door. “Then let’s not waste time. Storms here most likely mean snow, right?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never lived anywhere except Southern Cal. A deluge of rain is the worst I’ve experienced. How about you? Have you ever driven in snow?”

  “A few times. Once a blizzard meant I had to cancel—” She caught herself and stopped abruptly midsentence.

  “Cancel what?” Linc opened the door and stood aside to let her pass.

  She’d been about to say “cancel a major concert.” Wes had cursed and raged at everyone, including the sky. Secretly Miranda had reveled in the windfall of a day off. Her private bus had been headed for the Catskills, and the near whiteout forced a postponement. She recalled enjoying her forced stay at an obscure motel. Members of her band had indulged in an impromptu snowball fight. Afterward they’d joked around and someone had spiked the hot chocolate with rum. It was the first real fun Miranda had had after losing her dad—which was probably what made the incident stand out in her mind.

  “A dollar for your thoughts.” Linc had noted her pensive silence after she’d pulled on her jacket.

  “I was wondering what a blanket of snow would do to your operation here.”

  “I could function better without it. I’d like to plant crops and bring in the first few cattle and a chicken or two before the snow flies. I’d also prefer to build at least one bunkhouse bathroom before the road becomes a quagmire.”

  “Did you stop to think maybe you’ve bitten off more than you can chew?”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  “True,” she said. “But sometimes nothing’s gained by venturing too much.”

  “Ah, a cynic, I see.”

  “I’m not a total cynic. But I believe life’s better if all things are done in moderation.” Leaving him pondering her statement, she went to have a word with Cassie and Jenny.

  Linc met her at the SUV and plunged headlong back into their conversation. “Well, I wouldn’t have half of what I have today if I’d subscribed to your philosophy of taking life in moderation. I jump into a project with both feet and go full bore. Otherwise, competitors will beat me out.”

  “Must everything men do be about competition? What’s wrong with doing what you do because you love it?”

  Linc gave her a sidelong glance. “Have I lost a thread? I’m talking in generalities. Sounds to me as if you’re ready to take a chunk out of me for someone’s specific transgression.”

  “Sorry. Oh—you just passed a turnoff where a sign said Valley View Elementary School. Isn’t that the school we’re looking for?”

  “From the way Wolfie talked, I thought they rode the bus a lot farther.”

  “It probably seems a long way to a kid. And depending on where the ranch is on the bus route, they may take a while to reach the school.”

  Linc found a wide spot in the road to make a U-turn. He followed Miranda’s directions, found the road and traveled it for a distance. “At least it’s paved,” he muttered. “Are you sure the sign said there’s a school out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I wasn’t until now. Oh, look—to your left.” She pointed out a sprawling single-story building with several bike racks and windows dotted with paper pilgrims and turkeys.

  “Sure can tell Thanksgiving’s around the corner,” Miranda murmured as he parked and they climbed out of the van.

  Linc studied the artwork as he pocketed his keys. “Can you cook a turkey and all the trimmings?” he asked unexpectedly.

  Miranda laughed. “I’ve never done one by myself. But that’s why they make cookbooks. Anyway, there’s still a chance you’ll hire a housekeeper-cook by Turkey Day.”

  He yanked on a stray curl peeking over the edge of Miranda’s jacket collar. It wasn’t until his teasing gesture that she realized how much her hair had grown. Which probably meant she needed to cut it and use another temporary rinse.

  Seemingly out of nowhere, Linc asked, “Have you ever thought about going blond?”

  Miranda stumbled to a halt. “W-where did that silly question spring from?” she stammered.

  Because she’d stopped outside the school’s main entrance, Linc did, too. He ran his fingers through her springy curls and watched the autumn sunlight glint off it. “Last night,” he murmured, “the moonlight turned your hair…uh…well, never mind.” He jerked back his hand and buried it in his pocket.

  Fear of discovery trapped the breath in Miranda’s lungs. If the school bell hadn’t rung just then, she decided there was no telling how long they might have lingered there, staring at each other. Luckily the bell spurred Linc to action. He pulled open the door and motioned her through.

  She busied herself unfolding a sheaf of papers she’d pried out of Wolfie. Letting Linc lead the way into the office, Miranda shoved the papers into his hands. “These are apparently the last notices that came from the kids’ teachers. George Tucker threw them in the trash. Wolfie said he dug them out later.”

  Their arrival was greeted by the school secretary, a Mrs. Banks. “I remember these children,” she exclaimed. “After weeks of nonattendance, we filed their records.” She walked to a cabinet and pulled out a drawer.

  “And no one checked to see why they’d stopped attending?” Miranda asked.

  “Are you their new foster folks?” The secretary gave them the once-over.

  Linc leaned his elbows on the counter and smiled engagingly. “It’s a long story. You’re probably aware the area Social Services department is in upheaval until the new director comes on board. By the way, I’m Lincoln Parker. I bought the ranch where these kids live. They’re temporarily under my care until Social Services determines where to place them. For their sake—and I’m sure you’ll agree—I feel it’s best to resume their education ASAP.”

  “Mercy, I do agree, Mr. Parker.” Clearly Linc’s winsome smile had flustered the woman. So much so that she searched for and found the permanent record cards without further chitchat.

  “I see Wolfgang Schmitt and Cassandra Rhodes need booster shots. You’ll have to get them done within the month.”

  “Cassie’s real name is Cassandra?” Miranda stood on tiptoe so she could read the card. Mrs. Banks discreetly covered the pertinent information.

  “I’ll just need your name and phone number in place of George and Lydia Tucker.” The woman sniffed inelegantly. “I hope you see that the children attend school more often than their last caregivers did, Mr. and Mrs. Parker.”

  “Oh, we’re not married. I’m his cook,” Miranda supplied sweetly. If possible, the secretary’s disdain increased.

  Linc listened to the byplay with interest. “I’ve listed my home and cell numbers,” he said. “And I can assure you the kids will be here more often and they’ll be clean and well-fed.”

  “That’s commendable,” the woman said stiffly. “Unwanted children who fall thr
ough the cracks frequently get left behind academically.”

  “Wolfie and Cassie aren’t unwanted,” Miranda said, no less stiffly.

  “That may be true. But they certainly looked as if they were.”

  “Not anymore. Which reminds me.” Miranda snapped her fingers. “We’re heading out now to buy their school wardrobes. We don’t want them singled out. Can you tell us what the other kids here are wearing?”

  “Have a look.” The woman raised the window blind behind her and pointed to a nearby playground. Both Linc and Miranda pressed forward to see.

  “Holy cow,” Linc said in a stage whisper. “They’re wearing every manner of dress. How will we ever choose correctly?”

  Miranda pulled his notebook from her pocket and began writing. “I’ll jot down a list. You get a bus schedule, Linc.”

  By the time they gathered the new student packets and said good-bye, Mrs. Banks had warmed only minimally.

  “Phew,” Miranda said on the way to the parking lot. “She wasn’t the friendliest person I’ve ever met.”

  Linc laughed. “She tried her best to get your last name on the forms. Just out of curiosity, why are you so determined not to give it out, Randi?”

  “To avoid being traced. I thought we had this conversation, Parker.”

  “Why would anyone look for you at an elementary school?”

  She sighed. “I doubt they would. On the other hand, anyone might have access to school records. They’re official documents, you know.”

  Linc studied her profile as he helped her into the passenger seat of the SUV. “How long are you willing to live in the shadows, Randi? Tell me who’s making you so afraid. I’ll gladly have a talk with the bastard.”

  “No!” Miranda’s voice rose. “No,” she said again, a little more calmly.

  “All right, all right.” Linc stroked her upper arm, his eyes darkly concerned. “You can’t run forever. Someday you’ll have to trust someone to protect you. I can be that person.”