“I was careful. And two crutches are cumbersome. One works better,” he told her. “So what’s with the tree? Isn’t it early to be decorating for Christmas?”
She shot him a playful frown. “This isn’t a marine barracks, Bowie. And it’s the second of December. It’s time to start decorating. Haven’t you looked outside? Dad has some of the hands putting up the lights on the house and in the yard.”
This would be Bowie’s first Christmas since his return home from the Marines. During the years of his military service, he’d managed to get furlough and spend a few holidays here at the ranch, but that wasn’t the same as living here. He’d almost forgotten all the hoopla that took place on the ranch prior to Christmas. The kitchen was always full of rich food and every room was decorated in some form or fashion. Even the barns were strung with lights and the horse stalls adorned with wreaths and bows.
“I haven’t noticed,” Bowie told her. “The nurse was here to change my bandages. I’m still trying to recover from her visit.”
Surprised by his news, Lilly said, “Oh, I wasn’t aware Ava was starting the job today. I would’ve come up and said hi to her. Uh, why are you still trying to recover? Was it that painful?”
“It wasn’t painful at all. I was only teasing.” But Ava’s visit had been eye-opening, Bowie could have told his sister-in-law. He still couldn’t shake her image from his mind, much less the sound of her voice or the tender touch of her hands. He’d been around plenty of women in his life, but none of them came close to affecting him the way she had. “She got me all fixed up. No problem.”
“Great. When Dad said Chet was sending Ava out to nurse you, I knew she’d be perfect.”
“She told me you two are friends,” Bowie commented.
Lilly nodded. “We’ve been friends and coworkers for several years. Although now that I work at the clinic, I don’t get to see her very often.”
There were lots of things Bowie would have liked to ask Lilly about her friend, but he wasn’t going to. He didn’t much care for snooping into a person’s private life. He preferred to ask the person face-to-face. And he’d already found out much more about the nurse during her short visit than he’d expected to. The fact that she was a widow, and had remained single for all these years, was still nagging at him.
“Well, well, little brother has come down to join the land of the living.”
Rafe’s voice had Bowie glancing over his shoulder to see his older brother walking into the room. He was dressed in batwing chaps and a sheepskin-lined coat. A soiled felt Stetson was pulled low on his forehead, while spurs jangled on his boot heels. Rafe wasn’t just the image of a cowboy, Bowie thought, he was a cowboy inside and out. As foreman of the Silver Horn, his brother had the enormous job of keeping a crew of men working and a few thousand head of cattle healthy and producing.
“I’m already pretty damned bored with that bedroom,” Bowie told him.
“The last time I looked, you had a TV, a stack of movies, books, a stereo and a laptop in your room. That isn’t enough toys to keep you occupied?” Rafe teased.
“You’re making me sound spoiled, when all I want is a little human company. By the way, what are you doing in the house at this hour?”
“Greta promised to make cookies for the fence crew. They’re working out on Antelope Range, replacing barbed wire on some of the cross fencing. And since it’s starting to snow, I thought I’d drive out and give the boys an early treat of hot coffee and cookies. Want to come along?”
“To Antelope Range? If I remember right, that’s several miles out there,” Bowie said.
Rafe chuckled. “Well, if you need to stay where you’ll be warm and cozy, then go ahead.”
“Rafe!” Lilly protested. “Bowie hasn’t been out of the hospital even two days yet. He needs to recuperate before you start dragging him all over creation.”
Just hearing Rafe accuse him of being soft was enough to make Bowie set little Austin on the floor and turn toward his brother. “I haven’t lost anything out on Antelope Range, but I’ll go with you. Otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Bowie, as a nurse I’m advising you not to leave the house,” Lilly insisted.
Rafe cast his wife a subtle look. One that Bowie didn’t understand, but Lilly seemed to catch instantly.
“Don’t worry, honey,” Rafe said. “I won’t let him out of the truck. He’s only going along for the ride.”
Lilly gave her husband a dismissive wave before she turned her attention back to the tree decorations. “I don’t like the idea at all. But I can’t fight two men at once. And maybe a bit of fresh air will do him good,” she reluctantly added.
“Tessa, would you go upstairs and get one of Bowie’s old coats and a hat?” Rafe asked the maid. “We’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“I’ll be right down with them, Rafe,” she replied.
Tessa left to fetch the garments, and Rafe and Bowie started out of the room. As they made their way down a hallway, Rafe slowed his stride to match Bowie’s hindered pace.
“Look, Rafe, I know you’re trying to give me a break, and I appreciate it,” Bowie said. “But there’s no need for you to waste time on me. When cabin fever starts driving me crazy, I’ll go outside and walk around.”
“Shut up. This isn’t a pity invitation. And if I know you, cabin fever is already driving you crazy. On the way out to Antelope Range, you’re going to help me check over a herd of heifers. I want to see if you still have the eye.”
“What sort of eye?” Bowie asked as they neared the kitchen.
Rafe chuckled. “A rancher’s eye. What else?”
Yeah, what else? Bowie thought glumly. But he’d never been a rancher. Not like his brothers. Oh, he knew the workings of a cow and he could ride a horse, but he’d never had the natural instinct that Rafe or Finn had, or his two oldest brothers, Clancy and Evan. Yet that hadn’t stopped the members of his family from trying to draw him into the business. On one hand, the idea that they wanted him living and working close to them was endearing. But there was another part of Bowie that none of his brothers or dad or grandfather understood—he needed to be free of constraints. Even those that involved his family. He wanted to do his own thing. Be his own man. Not follow in his family’s footsteps.
“Like I said, you’re wasting your time,” Bowie replied.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
In the kitchen Greta, a plump woman in her early sixties, packed the bagged cookies and a large thermos of coffee into a cardboard box and handed it all to Rafe.
“That should keep everything from rolling around on the floorboard of the truck,” the cook told him. She cast a skeptical glance at Bowie. “You taking this whippersnapper with you?”
“I thought I could put up with him for a little while,” Rafe told Greta.
“Well, don’t shake up little Bowie too much. He’s in a weakened condition.”
Little Bowie. He was six feet tall and weighed a solid one hundred and ninety pounds. He could hardly be described as little. But Greta had been cooking for the family since before Bowie was born. To her, he would always be the last son born to Orin and Claudia.
Bowie let out a good-natured groan. “For pity’s sake, I’m not a helpless invalid!”
Rafe grinned at his brother. “Don’t worry about him, Greta. I hear he’s going to have a pretty nurse to keep him healthy.”
Greta rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and remember what happened to you