The Cowboy's Healing Ways. Brenda Minton
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She reminded herself that decent men existed. Laura barely remembered her real father, but he’d been one. He’d been kind, caring, always worried about his family. After he passed away, her life had been filled by men who were sad replacements. She’d known selfish men, abusive men, users.
“Are you okay?” He had opened his door but pulled it closed again. “Look, there are other options if you don’t think this is what you want.”
“I’m fine—just amazed and worried that I could never repay you.”
“It isn’t charity. You’re going to work for this.”
“You don’t understand. This means everything. I have a daughter who I haven’t been able to bring home with me for months.”
He smiled, the gesture settling in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Laura, I get it. Let’s go in and see if you’re going to be okay living here.”
Laura got out and met him at the front of the truck. The yard was pretty and neat. The leaves on the trees were budding and still the bright green of early spring. She walked through the gate and up the sidewalk to the front porch of the little white house with the green roof.
Jesse reached into his pocket for the key and after opening the door, he motioned her inside.
Laura stepped into the tiny but bright living room. She walked around the room, touching soft chenille-upholstered furniture and lingering in front of the wide window that overlooked the lawn, the driveway and, across the way, a tiny view of the lake. She drew the blanket around her shoulders a little tighter.
Jesse walked up behind her. He touched her shoulder and she turned a little, smiling at the man who had offered her this place, this chance at a real life and the real opportunity to get Abigail back.
She looked into his deep brown eyes and saw a flicker of something, just before he shook his head and stepped back, his hand dropping from her shoulder.
“Let me show you the rest of the house.”
She followed him from the living room to the kitchen, a bright room with white cabinets and ceramic tile floors. Down the hall were two sunny bedrooms. She stood in the center of one of those rooms, hugging herself, thinking she might possibly wake up from a wonderful dream where things went right in her life only to find herself still in the halfway house praying for a way out.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” She looked around the room with the quilt-covered bed, windows overlooking green fields and hardwood floors covered with a few deeply colored area rugs. She shook her head. “No, I’m better than good. And I’m waiting for the catch.”
“The catch?”
“Things like this don’t happen for people like me.” She tried to smile but it hurt and her eyes filled with tears that she blinked away before they could fall.
“There’s no catch. You need a job and a place to stay. I need help because I can’t keep up with housework and laundry.”
“No catch?” She walked to the window. In the distance she could see the shimmering waters of Grand Lake.
“None at all.” He stepped back into the hall. “You should rest. I need to get some work done around here but I’ll stop by later to check on you. Don’t forget to put away the milk and other groceries that I left on the counter.”
She followed him to the front door. “Jesse, I’ll never be able to repay you. Thank you for doing this for me.”
“You’re welcome.” He tipped his hat and walked from the porch to his truck. And she was alone.
But less alone than she’d been in years.
Chapter Four
“Heard you hired a housekeeper.”
It had only taken two days for the news to spread. Technically she hadn’t really started working until today. The past two days she’d been on the couch of the cottage, sometimes feverish. He’d kept her drinking hot tea and taking cold medicine. This morning she’d stepped out of the house to greet her new life.
Jesse closed the stall door and turned to face the brother who had managed to sneak in on him. Not that Blake typically sneaked. Sneaking would be something Gage would do, or Jackson, maybe Travis. Of all of his brothers, Blake was the one most likely to keep his nose out of everyone else’s business. Probably because he didn’t want them in his.
Blake stopped at a stall door and ran his hand down the sleek neck of the mare Jesse had just bought.
“Yeah, I hired a housekeeper.” Jesse opened the stall door of the gray, snapped a lead on her and led her out for Blake to look over.
“I still can’t believe you’re raising Arabians.” Blake shook his head. “What were you thinking?”
“They’re great animals.” Jesse shrugged it off, the way he’d been doing for six months, since he brought home the Arab stallion and mare.
“Right, I’ll let you raise your girly horses and I’ll stick with a good, strong quarter horse.”
“And I’ll outride you on an Arab any day of the week.”
Blake ran his hand down the mare’s back and shook his head. “I think we’ll have to put them to the test.”
“We can do that. What brings you out here?”
“Thought I’d stop by. It’s been a while.”
“I’m not buying that. You never stop by because it’s been a while.”
Blake walked away. He stopped in front of the stallion’s stall. The big horse moved restlessly around the stall and settled in the far corner.
“I found my daughter.” Blake turned as he made the announcement.
“How?”
“I hired a private investigator. He isn’t sure if he found her or if Jana allowed him to find them. He said it was pretty easy once he got on the right track. She’s in South Africa.”
Jesse whistled and shook his head. Blake’s ex-wife had taken off years ago, filed for divorce and then hightailed it out of the country with their little girl. Blake had been chasing leads for ten years, trying to get his daughter back, or at least hoping for a chance to see her.
“How old would Lindsey be now?”
“Twelve.”
“Man, Blake, I don’t know what to say.”
“Yeah, me either.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Blake nodded and walked down the wide aisle between rows of stalls. He stopped at the open double door.
“I’ll