Tangleweed Times.”
Ally was impressed with the women’s initiative; much less so with the O’Malleys’ generosity. Unlike Sue Ellen, who chirped repeatedly, “How kind of the O’Malleys to do something so generous, so good for the town!” she didn’t think a couple of thousand was that big a deal to a family worth millions. But, oh, what a difference a few thousand could make in her own life!
Possibly the Reverend had the same thought in regards to the new roof the church needed, or maybe—like Ally—he noticed the way the Cabrerra males all fell silent at the name O’Malley. In either case, he announced he and Janie needed to get home, and the small party quickly dispersed.
Guests gone, the Cabrerra brothers disappeared, too. Lincoln and Luke went to the barn to tinker with a broken ATV water pump, while Kyle rode out to check on the stock in the south pasture. Cole, as he did every evening, retreated to the study.
Ally was left with the cleaning up. She glanced around the kitchen, shaking her head, her mouth tightening. When needed, she helped brand, sort, feed and work cattle. She knew how to shoe the horses and mend a fence. But while it would never occur to any of her brothers to stand idly by while she worked outside on the ranch, it also never occurred to any of them to volunteer to pitch in with the often less physical but more tedious chores in the house. And lately when she asked for help, their attitude was so much of someone doing her a favor, that she preferred to just do it all herself.
So she set to work putting away the leftover food, wiping the chipped tile countertops and table and doing the dishes. Once finished, she hesitated, absently straightening the damp towel hanging beneath the farmhouse sink as she glanced out the window. The searing sun was setting, easing the harsh daytime heat. She longed to saddle up old Boomer and go for an evening ride, explore the dry riverbed or maybe catch up with Kyle to check the progress the boys had made mending the fence in the southwest pasture. Instead, she put a slice of cobbler on a plate and resolutely headed in search of Cole.
When she reached the study, she paused, leaning her shoulder against the doorjamb. Seated behind their father’s big carved desk, her oldest brother was staring unseeingly out the window at the same view she’d admired a few minutes earlier. Although evening had edged in, the light filtering through the wavy glass was still bright enough to highlight the faint lines etched beside his eyes, the creases in his lean, tanned cheeks and the stern set of his mouth.
He wasn’t smiling; he rarely smiled anymore, Ally realized. He’d always been rather serious, but at least he used to be more approachable. It had been big brother Cole whom Ally had run to after their mother had suddenly died in a horseback riding accident when Ally was only four. And twenty-year-old Cole who’d comforted her when their father, after a long heartrending battle, finally succumbed to lung cancer when she was fourteen.
Remembering those dark times, Ally sighed, and Cole glanced at her. His blue eyes softened as he saw the plate in her hands.
“Come to fatten me up, Al?” he asked as she walked toward him.
“I noticed you didn’t have dessert earlier.” She set the plate on a pile of papers littering the big desk. “And you might as well enjoy some while you can, because when we start the kitchen remodeling—”
“Actually,” Cole interrupted her, “I wanted to talk to you about that. We’re going to have to wait with the kitchen.”
Ally sank in the chair in front of the desk to stare at him in dismay. “Why?”
“Because we just don’t have the money right now to start a major project on the house.” Reading the disappointment in her expression, he added apologetically, “I was going to discuss it with you, but I just couldn’t seem to find the right time.”
Her lips tightened. “You mean you couldn’t find the right way to tell me that the new kitchen that was so all-fired important when you were planning on bringing a wife home became considerably less so when it came to your sister.”
“That’s not the way it was at all,” he said, deep voice sharpening defensively. “I knew we had to have a new computer—” he nodded at the machine that sat center stage, glowing softly on the broad oak desk “—but I didn’t expect to have to replace the engine on the pickup this year as well as get another baler. You know we can’t do without either of those, and the new computer will make charting the breeding records, as well as doing the books, a hundred times faster and easier.”
“And buying a new stove and dishwasher would make my work a hundred times faster and easier, too.” Ally shook her head in frustration. “For goodness’ sake, Cole, the oven door falls off every time I open it too far. Do you know how hard it is to pull out a pan of hot biscuits with one hand, while trying to keep the oven door on with the other?”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” He sighed, running a hand through his thick dark hair. “I’ll get Luke or Linc to weld a new hinge on it. And as soon as we can afford it, I’ll buy you a new stove. I promise.”
Ally wasn’t impressed with his assurance. “If you let Vorquez go, we could afford the stove right now.”
Ally knew that George Vorquez, the land claims man Cole had hired to prospect for oil, was one of the most respected geologists in the county. But if their father, who had the Circle C tested years ago, hadn’t met with success, she doubted they’d have any now.
But Cole’s jaw tightened. He picked up his fork and moodily stabbed at the crust of the cobbler. “Oil’s there, Al. I know it is.
It just takes time and a bit of money to find it. And then we’ll be richer than we ever dreamed of being.”
“So instead of putting in a new kitchen, you’re taking a gamble that we’ll find oil.”
“It isn’t a gamble, Ally,” Cole said firmly. “It’s an investment.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Ally refused to argue with him on a subject she knew he wouldn’t budge on. “The point is, Cole, you’re not being fair to me.”
“I said we’ll fix the stove—”
“Yeah, when someone gets around to it.” Her lips compressed. “Besides, it’s not just that. It’s other things, too.”
“Like what?”
“Like.” She tried to think of a recent example. “Like when you got the cell phones. You gave one to Kyle, one to each of the twins and kept the other one for yourself. Without discussing it with me at all.”
“I wasn’t trying to slight you, Al. The plan just came with four, so I handed them out to the boys, and figured you could share with me.”
“I don’t want to share with you. I want my own.”
“But why? Who are you planning on calling?”
“No one,” she admitted, giving up on the battle. “And there’s no one planning to call me.”
His face softened. “Sure there is. Tell you what—you can have the cell. I’ll share with Kyle.”
She looked at him helplessly. He just didn’t get it. The problem was, she didn’t want to always feel like Cole—or the others—were doing her a favor. She wanted them to recognize that she worked just as hard as they did. That she’d earned her share.
“It’s
