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Dusty turned to her. “Each of us has our own.”
“His or her own,” Trish corrected and blushed fiercely.
“Trish is a teacher,” Aggie explained. “Second grade. We all get corrected at one time or another. She’s a writer, too. Just sold her first children’s book.”
Kate only half listened to the conversation around her, relieved that the subject had turned away from food. She loved cooking and baking, but it was a part of herself she didn’t understand. She didn’t know where her cooking flair came from. Her mother had been a good cook, but nothing spectacular, and Aunt Aggie was much the same. Somehow Kate had taken to it and added her own touch. She had even been providing pies and cakes to the local café and barbecued beef to the local tavern for the past few years. But it wasn’t something she liked people making a big deal about. Farming was and always would be her first love.
Aggie pushed away from the table and stood. “When you’re finished, Dusty, go on outside and I’ll show you around.”
If he had been anyone else, Kate would have offered to show him the farm and machinery, but because it was Dusty McPherson, she was glad she wouldn’t have to. She had never reacted to any man the way she was reacting to him. Until she could get some control over that, being around him wasn’t a good idea, but there wasn’t much she could do about it until harvest was over.
Dusty laid his fork on the plate and rose from the table. “I can go out right now,” he said, but his gaze lingered on the stack of biscuits.
“No need,” Aggie said with a wave of her hand. “But Kate can add those biscuits to a basket. No reason why you can’t enjoy them while driving the combine.” She stepped into the hallway and turned around. “Kate, I need to speak with you.”
Following her, Kate suspected her aunt had a few words to say about her rudeness. It wouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes. Kate knew the routine well. She would apologize for being too outspoken and Aunt Aggie would forgive her.
Aggie waited until they were alone in the hall to speak. “I didn’t want to say anything to Trish yet, as it doesn’t affect her as much as it does you.”
“What doesn’t?”
Rubbing a fist across her forehead, Aggie hesitated for a moment before she met Kate’s gaze. “I’ve decided to lease the farm after this harvest.”
Kate couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “You what?”
“I’m leasing the farm.”
“No, you can’t!”
“I have to, Kate. Fuel costs are up, and fertilizer, too. Repair on the machinery is costing a bundle, and getting a loan for new is out of the question. Even without those expenses, there aren’t enough of us to do the work. With Trish getting married—”
“She doesn’t have that much to do with the farming,” Kate pointed out quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. The farm meant everything to her.
“Someday, you’ll be doing the same.”
Kate had no intention of getting married. “Then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did,” she said through lips stiffened by the panic she felt.
As if she hadn’t heard her, Aggie continued. “I’m not getting any younger. I know we’d planned on you taking over the farm, once I retire, but you can’t handle it on your own, Kate. Farming needs to be self-sufficient, otherwise it’s nothing more than a hobby. And an expensive one, at that.”
“We can find a way,” Kate answered, determined not to let go of the farm. It had become her life.
Aggie laid a hand on her arm. “If the time comes when farming pays off again, you can end the lease.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ve made up my mind, as hard as it was to do. I don’t mean to break your heart, but I don’t want to lose the land, and that’s what it could come to. You can understand that, can’t you?”
Kate knew things had been getting worse over the past few years. After all, she did the bookkeeping. But she’d never dreamed her aunt would stop farming and lease the land to someone else. “If I can come up with a new financial plan for the farm, will you reconsider?”
Putting her arm around Kate, Aggie hugged her. “If you can do that, I will. It’d make that college diploma of yours worth its weight in gold. But I’ll need to know at the end of next month.”
Kate nodded, understanding that time was of the essence. Anybody leasing would want to start after the crop was harvested. But all it really meant was that she had little time to put together a plan.
Trish was the only one in the kitchen when Kate returned, and she didn’t look happy. “This is going to be a mess. I don’t know how you’re going to pull off the cooking and driving the truck. Aggie has always done the driving—”
“It won’t be that hard.” Kate gathered dishes from the table and scooted past her sister to the sink, her mind still numbed by her aunt’s news. Not only had Aunt Aggie turned over the cooking to her long ago, but this year she’d had to give up driving the truck, too. If only Kate had paid attention, she might have seen the signs that her aunt might be thinking of retiring.
Starting the water, Kate added the dish soap before facing her sister and turning her mind away from her worries about the farm. “First off, this’ll go much faster if you give me a hand with these dishes. I’ll wash, you dry and put them away. And please put them where they belong, not just anywhere. I waste more time looking for stuff.”
“But you can’t cook dinner and drive the truck at the same time,” Trish pointed out.
Kate gave her a withering look. “Of course I can. But if I have to waste time hunting for utensils, I won’t get it done. And you know how Aunt Aggie prides herself on a smooth-running operation. Unless, of course, you’d rather listen to her rant and rave when dinner isn’t ready on time.”
Trish’s usually sunny smile was turned down in a frown. She sighed, grabbing the silverware from the table. “I’ll try to do it right.”
“Good.” Kate nodded and returned to the dishes. “I’ll just have to come in after I’ve taken a full load of wheat to the elevator. It won’t be a problem.”
“I hope it works.” Trish sounded unconvinced.
“It will.” But Kate mentally crossed her fingers. She didn’t mind doing double duty, but they’d all have to work together even more to make that happen. Time was of the essence during harvest. If it rained—and it usually did at some point—wheat cutting would come to a halt until the ground was dry again. A thunderstorm with hail could completely wipe out all of a small crop. She hated thunderstorms more than anything.
Trish reached into an upper cabinet to put away the plate she’d finished drying. “I wish I could drive.”
“You have a license.”
“I know, but it makes me nervous. And the thought of trying to drive that big old truck just scares me to death.”
“It did me, too, the first few times,” Kate admitted. “It’s slow going, and takes a watchful eye to make sure someone isn’t going to try to run you off the road because you’re driving too slow. Can’t drive too fast, either, or you could lose part of the load.”
“Or turn the truck over in the ditch,” Trish added. “I remember Aunt Aggie warning us when you first started driving it. She scared me to death.”
Kate laughed at the memory. “Me, too, but that happening is pretty unlikely in these parts. I worry more about getting it stuck when rain moves in.”
“Like that time when we went out to help at the south quarter and it started to rain. We nearly didn’t make it home, and the truck was almost full. Aunt Aggie nearly slid off in that deep ditch.”
“That was a nightmare,” Kate said, “but we managed, just like we always do.”
Hearing Aggie’s and Dusty’s voices outside, she hurried to the door, dripping water from her hands, and peeked out to see the pair moving across the yard to the combine. Walking back to the sink, worry started to nag at her. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to do this. Scrubbing at a pot, she remembered that “maybe” was all she might have when it came to the farm. When her sister didn’t say anything, Kate looked over her shoulder to see what she was doing.
Trish stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the farmyard beyond. “I wonder what he’s doing back here in Desperation.”
Kate turned back to the dishes and scrubbed furiously at the pot. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Why don’t you?”
Kate shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe because it doesn’t matter?”
“Sometimes I wonder about you, Kate.”
Kate chose not to answer. Although only eleven months apart in age, she and her sister were like night and day. Trish had always dreamed of the day she would marry and have a family, while Kate had run away at the very thought of it. If she had her way, and she was determined to, she’d be like Aunt Aggie, working the land and enjoying life on her own terms. Not on someone else’s. There’d be no compromising, no going places she didn’t want to go, no making herself look pretty for someone who would never notice.
No, she didn’t want a man complicating her life. But the real truth was that she had already lost two of the most important people in her life when she was fourteen. She knew, all too well, that someday she could lose her sister and aunt, too. Kate knew what she wanted, and it didn’t include a husband—one more person she would love and possibly lose. She’d leave having a husband to Trish.
It didn’t take long to get the dishes done and some leftovers gathered to take to Dusty. Grabbing the basket of food she’d prepared, Kate shoved her worry about Aunt Aggie’s plans for the farm aside and hurried outside to the edge of the field where her aunt stood watching the new help get the combine ready for a long day’s work. Dressed in blue jeans topped by a black T-shirt minus the sleeves, Dusty looked right at home on the farm, no different than any other hand from Texas to Canada. But on him, the jeans were snug enough to cause her heart to skip a beat. The faded denim fabric molded to his body displaying slim hips and long, strong legs. Broad shoulders topped a chest where any woman would love to rest her cheek—any woman but her. And his slim waist was encircled by a wide leather belt with a huge silver rodeo buckle that glinted in the sun. Sandy brown hair, a little too long and in need of a haircut, curled at the curve of his neck under the black Resistol that topped off his six-foot-something frame.
Oh, yes, he was something to behold. He always had been. And he was definitely aware of it and of his charm. She wasn’t immune to him, but she had enough good sense to know it. Still, it was all she could do not to stare.
With a sigh of surrender, Kate hurried to reach them and set the basket on the hood of the big dump truck they would fill with wheat to take to the elevator. “Is everything okay?”
Dusty looked up from the combine engine, a grease gun in his hand and a grin on his face. He tipped his cowboy hat back with one slightly greasy finger. “This is a well-kept machine.”
Kate felt a surge of pride. “My dad taught me to take care of things, and Aunt Aggie taught me how.”
“You were a good student. You know what you’re doing.”
Kate’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, his sexy grin rendering her speechless. Get a grip, she told herself, dragging her gaze from his warm brown one.
Aggie walked up to place a hand on her shoulder. “Kate does everything well,” she said with pride. “If it wasn’t for her, this farm would have folded a long time ago. I was lucky when she and Trish came to live with me.”
“We were the lucky ones.” Kate turned to her aunt and smiled. “We couldn’t have asked for a better home.”
Aggie patted Kate’s shoulder, her smile loving, but concerned. “We’d better get started. The day is getting away from us. We can get in a couple of extra hours of work with the wheat this dry.”
Dusty finished the lubricating and wiped his hands on a rag. “Then let’s get to it. There’s a chance of rain in the forecast later in the week. This wheat is too good to let it sit.”
Kate grabbed the basket of snacks from the top of the truck and handed it to him before he started up the combine ladder to the cab. “Here’s something to hold you until lunch.”
Taking the basket, his hand brushed hers, and their gazes met again. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
She froze, unable to speak or even nod. With every shred of determination she had, she dragged her gaze from his and turned for the house. “Don’t let him get to you,” she whispered to herself as she mounted the steps to the porch. “You have more important things to think about.” Much more important than a rodeo cowboy with a melt-her-on-the-spot smile.
AFTER CHECKING the combine’s controls and starting the engine to let it warm, Dusty took a peek in the basket Kate had given him. Finding it full of buttered biscuits, a jar of homemade jam and one of honey, his mouth watered again. He couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had he found something to keep him busy until he could get back to bull riding, but he would be well-fed, too.
Glancing in the direction of the house, he couldn’t ignore the seductively swinging hips of the sassy redhead. It was hard to believe she was the same shy girl he remembered from high school. He got the impression she didn’t particularly like him, unlike other women, which presented him with a challenge. And a challenge always intrigued him. He wasn’t planning on getting serious, just having a good time, since he couldn’t do what he enjoyed the most. For the next few weeks, at least, which gave them plenty of time to get the wheat cut, he intended to get to know her a little better.
Setting the rotating reel on the front of the combine to the correct height needed, he put the machine in gear and watched the whirling cylinder sweep the shafts of wheat to where the grain-filled heads would be cut from the straw. He glanced back to see the bin behind the cab begin to fill with grain and felt a swell of contentment. He’d made the right decision when he’d called Aggie Clayborne about the job. Money wasn’t a concern for him. He’d saved and invested most of his winnings, and his grandparents had left him their farm and house. But he had needed something to do. He wasn’t accustomed to doing nothing.
Combining took only a part of his concentration. The rest of it he used trying to remember as much as he could about Kate Clayborne and planning the rodeos he would be entering, once his doctor gave the okay that he could. Work and thinking passed the time.
He stopped only to dump his full bins of wheat into the truck, watching as the golden, ripe kernels spilled out of the cylindrical auger and into the truck bed. Kate had been absent for most of the morning, except when she had appeared twice to drive the full truckload of wheat to the elevator and back again. But on this dump, he noticed Aggie behind the wheel of the truck. Climbing down from the combine cab, he took a half-hearted look at the belts and pulleys of the machine’s innards, before he walked around to stand at the truck’s door.
“Did my driver quit?” he asked, wondering what had become of the headstrong redhead.
Aggie stared straight ahead, her voice filled with vinegar. “Kate had some errands to take care of. I can drive this old truck.”
Dusty tipped his hat back to get a good look at her and grinned. “’Course you can. Any reason why you don’t do it full-time?”
She turned her head and looked him over, her eyebrows raised over snapping blue eyes. “Maybe because I don’t like doing it?”
“If you say so.” He didn’t believe her excuse for a minute. Aggie had the same love of land and farming he sensed in her redheaded niece.
Aggie’s stubborn expression turned to one of disgust. “Bad knee,” she said in a low, embarrassed voice.
Dusty only nodded.
“I can drive some,” she hurried on. “But I can’t take a full day of it. Working the brake and the clutch is more than I can take after a while. If I do it for too long, I can’t walk the next day, my knee gets to aching me so bad.”
He could relate. His body had taken plenty of abuse riding bulls. “Understandable. I have my own aches and pains.”
“Dinner should be ready by the time I get back from the elevator. Keep an eye out for Trish so you’ll know when to quit.”
He noticed the combine bin had nearly finished emptying, so he moved away. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Thought you might be.” Aggie chuckled, but her mouth settled in a tight line when she started the truck.
He watched her drive away, bumping along the rough road, and then he climbed back into the combine cab to set the machine in motion again. Folks around Desperation admired the woman. She might be the brunt of jokes about her unmarried state, but Agatha Clayborne was a woman people respected. He was hard-pressed not to agree. And she’d raised a niece who had caught him off guard and had him wondering what the next few weeks might bring.
Chapter Two
The aroma of freshly fried chicken hit Dusty like a sledgehammer when he stepped onto the porch. He’d seen Trish waving to him from the edge of the field and had forced himself not to rush his last round.
Inside, Trish was crossing the room with a heaping bowl of buttery mashed potatoes in her hands. Having been raised a gentleman, Dusty hurried over to lend a hand.
“Let me help.” He took the hot bowl from her and quickly dumped it on the table, wishing he’d thought to take the oven mitts, too.
Laughter rippled from behind him. “She keeps it warming in the oven until we’re ready,” he heard Kate say.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kate took the same chair she’d had that morning. “Go ahead and clean up at the sink, and we’ll get started. We don’t wait on ceremony during harvest.”
After washing and drying his hands, Dusty planted himself in the chair he’d sat in at breakfast, next to her. “Aggie should be back any minute unless there’s a long line at the elevator.”
“We can warm things up if there is,” Trish said.
The platter of chicken Kate passed him drove any thought of work from his mind. He hadn’t seen chicken so perfectly done since he was a kid.
Choosing a golden-brown thigh from the platter, he took a bite, and the chicken seemed to melt the instant he wrapped his mouth around it.
Before he could swallow and remark on it, the back door banged open, and Aggie entered, heading for the sink. “Those brakes feel kind of mushy to me,” she announced, quickly washing her hands.
“I’ll take a look at the brake fluid,” Kate answered. “I need to remember to do the same with the old tractor. I noticed last fall that the brakes were kind of soft.”
Dusty slid a glance at her, and his pulse picked up. But now wasn’t the time, and he concentrated on the meal while the others discussed Trish’s wedding plans and other womanly things that held no interest for him.
When he’d finished eating, the urge to kick back and enjoy the contentment of a more than satisfying meal was cut short by the need to get the work done. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had better fried chicken,” he said.
Beside him, Kate’s chair scraped on the tile floor. “I’ll get those brakes checked,” she announced and jumped to her feet.
