face relaxed. “Of course, that’s a great idea.”
Travis’s spirits lifted.
“I’ll give her a call.” Phil reached for the phone, punched in the number and waited. After a minute or two he covered the receiver. “Nell’s busy, but her mother-in-law’s there and she said you’d be welcome to drive out, but she feels obliged to warn you there’s no electricity at the moment.”
“They have a bed and clean sheets?”
“Sure thing, and Ruth—that’s her name—said she’d throw in breakfast, as well.”
He named a price that sounded more than reasonable to Travis. “Sold.”
Phil relayed the information, drew him a map, and soon Travis was back on the road.
Patterson had told him that the ranch was a fair distance out of town; still, by the time Travis pulled off the highway and onto the gravel drive that led to Twin Canyons Ranch, he suspected he was closer to Brewster than Promise. Approaching the front door, he felt as though his butt was dragging as low to the ground as his suitcase.
A kid who looked to be about twelve answered his knock and stared blankly at him while Travis stood in the rain.
“Hello,” Travis finally said.
“Hello,” the boy answered. A girl two or three years younger joined him. Good-looking children, but apparently not all that bright.
“Most people come to the back door unless they’re selling something, and if you are, we’re not buying.”
Despite feeling tired and cranky, Travis grinned. “I’m here about a room.”
The two kids exchanged glances.
“Who is it?” He heard an older woman’s voice in the background; a moment later, she appeared at the door. “For the love of heaven, young man, come out of the rain.” She nudged the children aside and held open the door.
He stood in the hallway, which was all gloom and shadows except for the light flickering from a cluster of candles. Travis glanced around, but it was impossible to see much.
“Mom’s in the barn,” the boy said.
“I know that,” the older woman told him. She put the candle close to Travis’s face. “You look decent enough.”
“I haven’t eaten any children in at least a week,” he teased, eyeing the two kids. The little girl moved a step closer to her brother.
“I’m Travis Grant,” he said, turning his attention to the woman.
“Ruth Bishop, and these two youngsters are my grandchildren, Jeremy and Emma.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He shifted the suitcase in his hand, hoping Ruth would take the hint and escort him to his room. She didn’t. “About the room...” he said pointedly.
“You’ll need to meet Nell first.”
“All right.” He was eager to get the introductions over with so he could fall into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours straight.
“This way.” She led him through the house to the back porch, where she pulled on a hooded jacket. Then she walked down the back steps and into the rain, holding her hand over the candle to shield the small flame.
Travis wasn’t enthusiastic about clumping through the storm yet again, but didn’t have much choice.
“Ruth?” a new voice called into the night. A low pleasant voice.
“Coming,” the grandmother answered.
They met halfway across the yard in the pouring rain. “I got us our first paying guest,” Ruth announced, beaming proudly. “Travis Grant, meet my daughter-in-law, Nell Bishop.”
It took Travis no more than a second to recognize Nell as the woman who’d called him an idiot.
He liked her already.
Two
Nell located an old-fashioned lantern for Travis Grant. It had probably been in the family for fifty years and was nothing if not authentic. Next she gathered together fresh sun-dried sheets, a couple of blankets and a pillow. She tucked everything inside a plastic bag and raced through the storm, holding the lit lantern with one hand. When she arrived at the bunkhouse, Nell discovered Travis sitting on the end of a bed, looking tired and out of sorts.
The initial group of tourists was scheduled to show up the first week of May, and almost everything in the bunkhouse had been readied. It was primitive, but then this was the real thing. A genuine ranch, complete with enough cattle to give would-be cowboys the experience of dealing with a herd, horses for them to ride and plenty of land. Nell was as determined as Curly in the movie City Slickers to make real wranglers out of her guests. It was what they were paying her big bucks to do, and she firmly believed in giving them their money’s worth.
“Thanks,” Travis said when he saw her. He stood up to remove the bag from her arms, and she placed the lantern on a small wooden dresser opposite the bed.
“I realize this isn’t the Ritz,” she said as she spread the crisp sheet across the thin mattress.
“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers,” her guest reminded her. “I’m grateful you’re willing to take me in at all.”
Actually no one had thought to ask her. It was her mother-in-law who’d agreed to put him up for the night when Phil Patterson phoned. But to be fair, Nell suspected she would have agreed herself.
“With the rodeo coming, the Pattersons didn’t have any vacancies,” he explained unnecessarily, leaning over to help her with the top sheet and blanket.
The lantern actually gave a fair amount of light, much to Nell’s chagrin. She chose to pretend she didn’t recognize him. And either he was too tired to remember the way she’d harangued him at the side of the road or he’d decided to forget. Whatever the case, she was grateful.
“Does the Texas hill country generally get storms like this?”
“This one’s worse than some,” she told him, lifting the edge of the mattress to tuck in the covers. Given his size, she wondered if the bunk would be big enough for him. Well, there was no help for it, since this bed—or another exactly like it—was the only one available.
“What about losing your electricity?”
“Happens now and then,” she said, not looking at him. She reached for the pillow and stuffed it inside the case, then plumping it up, set it at the head of the bed. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, ready to return to her family.
“Nothing. I appreciate your putting me up,” he said again.
“No problem.”
“Mom.” Breathless, Jeremy burst into the bunkhouse, his face bright. He carried a blue-speckled tin coffeepot in one hand and a
