Patricia Johns

The Rancher's City Girl


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can I get you something else?” Cory asked.

      His father shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

      Cory exchanged a look with Eloise and she shook her head ever so slightly. Accepting a sandwich from Nora, Cory slipped into the chair next to Eloise.

      Eloise cast about for a subject of conversation. “This is an interesting old house.”

      “My grandfather built it. I did some renovations when I took the place over, though.”

      Eloise’s gaze roamed over the walnut floors, glowing from a recent polish. A rough-hewn stone fireplace dominated one side of the sitting room, the opening wide and deep, and couches surrounded it. The couches looked worn, as if they’d been used for decades, but the wear and tear only added to the charm, making her wonder about the family members who made their memories surrounding that hearth. The kitchen was large and spacious, dark cabinets combining with the walnut floors to bring a cozy feel without sacrificing space.

      “A home says a lot about a person,” Eloise said. “So do his friends.”

      “Oh no,” Cory groaned. “What did she say?”

      Eloise grinned. “Not too much. She’s nice, though. I like her.”

      A smile twitched at one corner of his lips, and she chuckled.

      “You seem to be the most eligible bachelor in Blaine County,” Eloise offered.

      “To hear Nora tell it.”

      “And if you tell it?”

      “I don’t know.” He looked down at his hands. “I don’t want to waste a woman’s time.”

      Eloise knew that feeling all too well. Even though she’d known Cory only briefly, she suspected they’d understand each other perfectly. Flirting and dating might bring some excitement to her life, but she wasn’t looking for compliments and a dinner out. She was past the age of playing games.

      “Or your own time,” she added.

      “I suppose. I don’t want to get involved with someone just to break up later. It’s not worth the heartache.”

      She nodded. “I feel the same way.”

      “Is my dad doing okay?” he asked, lowering his voice.

      The old man slumped in his chair, his eyelids drooping. Eloise put her hand over her patient’s cool fingers. “Are you all right, Robert?” she asked quietly.

      “Getting tired,” he murmured.

      “And the pain?”

      “Two.”

      “Perfect.” Eloise looked up at Nora. “Would you mind showing us Mr. Bessler’s bedroom? He could use a rest.”

      “Oh, for sure.” Nora gave her husband’s hand a squeeze before heading toward the kitchen doorway. “Come right this way. I got your bedrooms ready this morning. I have Mr. Bessler in the front room—he can see the horses graze right out his window.”

      “Thanks for all of this, Cory,” Eloise said as she rose from the table.

      “It’s nothing.” His warm eyes met hers.

      As Eloise moved around the table, she sensed his gaze following her. She felt off-kilter somehow. Staying at an attractive man’s house was definitely outside her comfort zone.

      The men’s tones dropped as Eloise rolled Mr. Bessler from the room, and Nora chatted about the choices of bedrooms as she led the way down the hallway. She stopped in front of a door.

      “I’ll just let you settle in, handsome. You’re next door, Eloise. Cory sleeps down the other hallway, so you’ll have some privacy.”

      “Thank you,” Eloise said. “It’s really nice to meet you, Nora.”

      “Likewise.” Nora looked back in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on back when you’re ready.”

      Eloise rolled Mr. Bessler into his bedroom and began turning down his bed. The old man looked pale, the exertion of the trip seeming to have taken a toll.

      “It’s a pretty room,” Eloise commented. She opened a door and peeked inside a small washroom. She shut the washroom door and surveyed the bedroom. The head of a sturdy wooden bed was in the center of one wall, a tall mahogany wardrobe looming to the side. It reminded her of the Narnia novels—the wardrobe that held the doorway to a hidden world. A wooden chair sat by the window, a folded patchwork quilt tossed over one arm. The floorboards creaked under them comfortingly, and Eloise pushed her patient closer to the window to give him the benefit of the view. The window opened up over the winding road that separated them from the horse paddock, and she paused to admire the animals. She knew next to nothing about horses, but she recognized that they were well groomed and cared for.

      “You have your own private bath,” Eloise said, by way of making conversation.

      “That’s nice.”

      “Nora seems friendly, doesn’t she?”

      Mr. Bessler didn’t look inclined to cheer up. He regarded her with somber eyes. Eloise let the smile slip from her face.

      “Red?” His voice wavered.

      “Yes?” She squatted down next to his chair.

      “I need your help with something.”

      “Sure. What do you need?”

      “I promised Ruth I’d scatter her ashes. I never did.”

      “You wanted to keep her close. That’s perfectly understandable.”

      “But I promised her.” A pained look came to his lined face. “It’s one more vow I’ve broken, and I don’t like that.”

      Eloise nodded. “I get that. This would be a pretty place to do it.”

      “Lay my wife to rest on my illegitimate son’s land?” He stared at her incredulously.

      “What do you want to do?” she asked.

      “It needs to be off this land. I can’t die without doing the one thing she asked of me.”

      Eloise nodded. “I’ll help you with that, but right now you need to rest.”

      Mr. Bessler let out a soft grunt as she helped him to his feet. He shuffled the few steps to the bed and sank into it with a deep sigh.

      “Comfortable?” she asked.

      He nodded.

      “Good.” She moved his wheelchair to a convenient spot out of the way. “Robert, this trip is for you and your relationship with your son. I don’t want you to forget that.”

      “That’s baloney.” A smile twitched at his thin lips.

      “You need to tell me if there is anything I can do to help you. That’s what I’m here for.”

      “Oh, Red.” Tenderness entered the old man’s voice. “Young people are so naive. But life is shorter than you’d think. Don’t waste time.”

      Eloise stopped short, surprised at this sudden gentleness from her short-tempered patient.

      “Do you think I’m wasting time?” she asked.

      “Yes,” he said bluntly.

      “What should I be doing differently?” she asked as she pulled the blankets over her patient.

      “Living.”

      “I suppose we all do that in our own ways,” she replied.

      “No, we all stall and avoid getting close to people in our own ways,” he replied drowsily. “Take a few chances, Red. When you get to my age, you don’t want any regrets.”

      The