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“Tell me what? What does she need to tell me, Melissa?” Griff advanced to the table, concern and apprehension etched into his expression.
“Mom,” Melissa pleaded.
Finally, Camille looked at her husband. “I need some surgery and I want to wait until after the holidays. That’s all.”
“What kind of surgery?”
Melissa said nothing, but kept her gaze pinned on her mother’s face.
“A—a hysterectomy.” Camille turned away again, as if she was ashamed.
Griff sank down in the chair beside his wife. “Why?”
Melissa looked at her dad and nodded encouragingly.
Camille remained turned away. In a whisper, she said, “I have a tumor on my ovary.”
“And a hysterectomy will take care of it?”
She nodded.
“Then why are you going to wait?”
“Thanksgiving is coming and Melissa is here and—”
“Nonsense,” Griff said, cutting her off. “You’re not telling me something.” He put his arms around Camille. “Honey, what is it?”
She turned then and buried her face in his shoulder. Griff held her close, giving her time to pull herself together. Then he nudged her. “Come on, honey, tell me everything.”
Camille sat up slowly. “There’s a possibility I have cancer.”
Her words were brisk, businesslike, but Griff stared at her as if she’d just released a bomb. “What? Then you need to have the surgery at once! Isn’t that true, Melissa?”
“Caroline said the sooner they do the operation, the more likely Mom can recover.”
“But I haven’t finished Christmas shopping, and there’s Thanksgiving dinner,” Camille protested.
“Mom, I—”
Camille speared her with a sharp look. “Don’t tell me it’s for the grandchildren again, Melissa,” she ordered sternly. “I’ve been waiting for them so long I’ve just about given up!”
Griff reached out and took her face in his hands, bringing her attention back to him. “Do it for me, sweetheart. I can’t make it without you. I need you healthy and happy for a long time. Remember, you promised to grow old with me.” He looked into her eyes. “Do it for me. Have the surgery now.”
Camille’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded.
Griff hugged her then, tightly, and as he held her, he told Melissa, “Call Caroline right now.”
She did as her father asked. As Caroline checked her and Jon’s schedules, Melissa kept her eyes on her parents, sitting there at the table in each other’s arms. It was as if her mother was drawing strength from her husband’s embrace. After all these displays of affection, it still amazed Melissa how much they loved each other. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever find that kind of love. She’d certainly thought she had, but she hadn’t come close.
Caroline came back on the line. “Melissa, we can do the surgery in the morning if your mom is willing. That way we won’t have to adjust our schedules, because we have nothing planned for Sunday.”
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“No, we think it will be better. However, it’s started snowing and this is supposed to be a big storm. She should come in now and spend the night. That way we’ll have her all prepped for the morning.”
“Okay. That’s what we’ll do. Thanks, Caro.”
She got off the phone and told her parents what her cousin had said.
Her mother looked petrified. “Now? But I was going to try to get more done before—”
Griff cut her off. “That’s great, Melissa. I’m going in with your mother and I’ll spend the night there with her.”
“I’ll go, too.”
“No, child, your mother and I will be together. You come in the morning for the surgery. Okay?”
Melissa leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Okay, Dad.” She knew her father had been hard hit by the news and wanted time with his wife. “But you promise to take good care of her.”
“You know I will. Now, go help her pack a bag, please.”
“Why is it that I have no say in what’s happening to me?” Camille complained.
“Because you never put yourself first, my love. But this time you have to.” He kissed her before he said, “I’m going to go talk to John before we leave.”
When he went outside, Griff saw someone parked near the barn. He hurried out of the chilly wind to find the owner of the truck inside, talking to his son.
“Harry! It’s good to see you. Why didn’t you come up to the house?”
“Hi, Griff. Good to see you, too. I had some information that I figured you’d need as soon as possible. At this time of the day, I thought you’d be out here.”
“What kind of information?”
Harry told him about the cattle rustlers and the need to move the herd.
John spoke up. “I was just coming in to tell you, Dad. We don’t have much time before dark.”
Griff stood there, staring at them. “I can’t help you, Son.”
“What are you talking about, Dad? Even if we could afford the loss, we don’t want to let these guys get away with rustling, do we?”
“No, Son, but your mother is going for surgery as soon as I can get her to the hospital. I just found out about it. She was planning on delaying the operation until Melissa went back to France, but it can’t wait.”
“Is she all right?” John asked, fear in his voice.
“She will be, but the surgery has to be done at once,” Griff said.
“I’ll stay and help you, John, if you’ve got a horse for me,” Harry said.
“You don’t have to do that,” he protested in a slightly embarrassed tone.
“Son, learn to take help when it’s offered.” Griff turned to Harry. “Thanks. We appreciate it.”
“What about Melissa? Is she going with you?” John asked.
“No, she’s coming in in the morning. You can come, too, if you want.”
“Yeah, I will. But ask Melissa if she can help us now.”
Harry stared at John as if he were crazy. But Griff just nodded. “Saddle a horse for her. I’ll send her right out.”
After Griff walked out of the barn, Harry turned to his friend. “Your sister will help us move the herd? Do you think she can? I mean, she probably hasn’t ridden in years.”
“Naw, she doesn’t spend all her time making jewelry.”
“She makes jewelry?”
“Yeah. You didn’t know?”
“Hell, I didn’t even know you had a sister, John!” Harry said in exasperation.
John grinned. “I guess I don’t talk enough. You want to borrow some chaps?”
“Yeah, if you’ve got a spare pair. They’ll help keep the cold out.”
“Sure, here you go,” John said, taking down a pair from the Peg-Board on the wall. “You don’t have to warn anyone else?”
“Nope. You’re the last on the list. We split the ranches up, Mike and I. I need to call him and let him know where I am, though.”
“That’s fine. You need a phone?”
“No, I’ll use my cell.” He called the sheriff and told him he was going to help John move his herd, and would be in later. Mike agreed to keep an eye on everything, since Harry had the late shift.
Just as he turned off the phone, the barn door opened and Melissa came in. Her eyes, he noticed, were suspiciously red.
“You all right, sis?” John asked at once.
After a quick look at her brother, Melissa said, “Yes, of course. Mom and Dad are getting in the car if you want to go tell her goodbye.”
“Yeah, I’ll go do that. I haven’t got your horse saddled yet, but I’ll do it when I get back.”
Harry watched John leave the barn. Then he said abruptly, “Which horse is yours?”
“Maybelle here. She’s eight years old, so she can still go.”
Harry moved over to check out at the gray mare. “Yeah, she looks good. Are you sure you can stay on?”
“Excuse me? You’re talking to a Randall, I’ll have you know.”
“Yeah, but you’re a Randall with a French accent,” Harry said with a wry grin. “Which saddle is yours?”
“This one,” she said, pointing to one hanging nearby. “But I can saddle her myself.”
“No need. Save your energy.” He grabbed her saddle and went to work on Maybelle. “John said he has his biggest herd over in the pasture by the county road. And we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Do you know how to ride?” Melissa asked, a smile on her lips.
Harry stopped saddling the horse and looked at her. A man in Rawhide who didn’t know how to ride? What did she think he was?
“Of course I know how to ride. And drive cattle.” He tilted his hat and gave her a sharp stare. “I would venture a guess I’ve had more experience at it than you have.”
She put her hands on her hips and took a step forward. “You think so, cowboy? Remember, I grew up here.”
Harry gave her an assessing look. She’d lost her drawl and her hair was so short and spiky; even her jeans were designer. Sometimes, he had to admit, it was hard to remember she was from Wyoming. Aside from her little temper tantrums, she seemed sophisticated and…worldly. Anyone could see she’d spent a considerable amount of time outside of Rawhide.
He laughed to himself. Actually, he couldn’t wait to see Little Miss Parisian out there riding herd.
He tugged on Maybelle’s saddle, found it tight, and stepped back, waving his hand with a flourish. “Your mount awaits, m’lady.” Then he cracked a smile and added, “We’ll just see who’s the rider here.”
Melissa took the dare. She speared him with a look and said, “You’re on.”
Grabbing Maybelle’s reins, she led the mare out of the barn, leaving Harry to follow.
Not that it was a bad view, he admitted. He was developing quite a liking for those tight, designer jeans.
John met up with them outside the barn, having said goodbye to his mother. “We’re ready,” Harry told him.
John nodded resolutely, concern for his mother temporarily replaced by determination to get the job done. He glanced over at his sister. “Get a pair of chaps. It’s going to be cold out there. You have good gloves?”
Melissa smiled. “Yes, John,” she said patiently. “You know I’ve done this before.”
Harry snickered, but she ignored him. Instead she pointed to a pile of scarves she’d left inside the barn door. “Dad gave me those. Said we’d need them for the cold.” She looked at Harry then. “If you wrap one around your face and tie it in back, it’ll serve as a kerchief, and keep you warm, too.”
Biting back a comment, he put one on, then reached out and tied Melissa’s behind her short hair. He expected a complaint but got none. Nor did he get a thank-you.
She pulled a hat on her head, climbing into the saddle and headed out.
John rode alongside Harry into the cold, windy pasture. Had it been any other day of the week, They’d have had a number of cowboys to help out. But it was Saturday, and all the men had already gone into town. Probably all lined up for a beer already, Harry figured. Just like last night, when he’d first seen Melissa.
That scene had replayed in his head a few times—how beautiful she’d looked sitting there, sipping her beer. He wondered how different things would have turned out if he’d taken her up on her request for a dance.
He’d never know.
Once they reached the pasture by the county road, there was no time for thinking. There was a herd to gather.
Snow had begun to fall and the temperature was dropping sharply. John kept looking up at the sky, but Harry didn’t bother. Mike had already alerted them to the forecast, and it was not good. They were in for a substantial snowfall, on top of what was already on the ground.
Luckily, the herd was mostly Herefords. Their red coats showed up better in the swirling snow.
They rounded up the large herd, each working hard at the job. Even Melissa. She rode with skill and knew her way around the herd, Harry would give her that. As much as it pained him to admit it, she held her own.
By the time they dragged themselves back to the barn, it was after eight o’clock and the three of them were exhausted. The buffeting of the wind was enough to wear anyone out.
Melissa hopped down off of her mare. “If you’ll unsaddle Maybelle and give her some oats,” she told he men, “I’ll get up to the house and start supper for us.”
Harry could only stare at her. The words came out of his mouth before he could censor them. “You ride herd and cook, too? Man, you’re a rancher’s dream!”
As she strode by him, she tipped her nose in the air. “I’m not so sure that a rancher would be my dream, though.”
Chapter Four
“I’m not sure my sister’s dreams are like those of other women in Rawhide.”
John’s words reached Harry through his haze. He’d been too intent watching Melissa sashay up to the house to pay his friend any mind. Now he turned to John.
“They wouldn’t be, though, would they? I mean, she’s been living in Paris for six years.” He grinned. “Heck, she’s probably the only person in Rawhide who’s ever been.”
“Not so,” John said unsaddling Maybelle. “Mom and Dad went to see her awhile back.”
“Did they like it?”
“Mom enjoyed it, but she said she was glad to get back home. Dad didn’t have anything good to say about it. He’s never been happy that Melissa is living there.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. Melissa says he’s trying to marry her off to someone here in Rawhide so she’ll stay here.” Harry didn’t look at his friend. He just kept taking care of the horse he’d borrowed.
“I wonder who he’s got in mind,” John said. When Harry said nothing, John stopped what he was doing and looked at him. “Harry? Do you know who Dad’s thinking of?”
“I don’t know what your dad is thinking, but Melissa said it’s me.”
“Really?” John asked eagerly. “That’d be great, Harry! Hey, snap her up at once!”
“That’s not how it works, John. Melissa has to be interested. More than interested, she has to want to marry and stay here rather than go back to France. And I don’t see that happening. Do you?”
John stood there, looking at him. Finally, he shook his head. “No, I don’t see that happening.”
“Then you should encourage your dad not to press her on that front. If she married because of him, the marriage wouldn’t last. You know how that goes.”
“You sound like a voice of experience. You’ve seen a marriage like that?”
Harry hefted off the saddle and put it in the tack room. “Yeah, my parents’. When they finally divorced it was a relief for all of us.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s not something you go around bragging about. But I think both my parents are happier now. Anyway, that’s why I’m not interested in Melissa. She’s beautiful and obviously talented, but I don’t want an unhappy wife.”
He couldn’t believe he was using the words Melissa and wife in the same thought. He laughed to himself as he absently brushed down the borrowed horse. The matchmaking Randalls were legendary in these parts. But they’d met their match in Melissa.
Once he and John fed the horses, they bundled up again for the trek to the house. The snow was falling heavily now, and blowing around, nearly obliterating the building in front of them. Trudging through the storm they reached the mudroom and shed their coats and boots, which were wet and covered in crusty snow.
Melissa called out from the kitchen. “Come on in. It’s almost ready.”
Suddenly, Harry hesitated. The scene was almost too domestic. Him coming in from work, Melissa having dinner ready. “Maybe I should go on back to town. I’m supposed to be on duty tonight.”
John stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding! Didn’t you see how bad this storm is? I don’t think you’re going back to town until it stops, Harry. You’d be crazy to try.”
“Well, I’m certainly not spending the night here!”
John ignored him and ushered him inside. “Come in and call Mike. He’ll tell you the same thing.”
Harry pulled his cell phone off his belt, but found he had no service, probably due to the storm. Now he had to go in and use the house phone.
John led the way into the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Melissa asked as the men walked through the room.
“To the phone,” her brother told her. “Harry wants to drive back to town now.”
She looked at Harry. “Are you nuts? It’s not safe.”
“I’m on duty tonight,” he said, as if that was sufficient reason to try.
She raised her chin and gave him a glare as cold as the great outdoors. “And we certainly know how you take your duty seriously.”
John looked at him, puzzled. “What does she mean?”
Harry ignored his friend, his eyes never leaving Melissa. So she’d thought about that night at the steak house and bar, too?
Not that it mattered, he reminded himself quickly. Nothing could ever happen between them.
He went to the phone and called Mike, who, as he’d suspected, told him to stay put. The roads were a mess and the day shift deputies were pulling double duty.
“What did Mike say?” John asked as he came to the table.
Harry frowned. “I guess I’m staying, if y’all don’t mind putting me up.”
Melissa answered before her brother could. “Of course we don’t. It’d be pretty rude of us to refuse when you helped move the herd.” She put bowls of hot soup in front of them.
“What’s this?” John asked.
“French onion soup.”
He frowned. “You made us French food? Dad said he almost starved to death before he got home.”
“Oh, just try it, John,” Melissa said, losing her patience. “It’s hardly French. It’s onion soup with melted cheese.” She muttered, “If you want French, try eating snails.”
John looked about ready to pass on dinner.
Harry tried the soup. “Hey, this is good. Did you make it?” he asked Melissa.
“Yes. And thank you.” She gave him a smile.
The smile warmed him as much as the hot soup.
They ate silently until the phone rang, shattering the quiet.
John jumped up to answer it. “Hello? Oh, hi, Dad. How’s Mom?”
Immediately, Melissa’s attention was focused on her brother. Harry watched her, seeing the anxiety she was feeling. It must’ve been hard to come out with them instead of going to the hospital with her mom.
When Melissa realized he was staring at her, she stiffened and turned to eat the rest of her soup.
“You should’ve gone with your mom instead of helping us,” Harry said softly.
“I wanted to, but Dad needed to be alone with her tonight. He didn’t have time to prepare for any separation or the threat of a serious illness.”
“They’re that close?”
Melissa looked at him in surprise. “Yes. Aren’t your parents?”
He gave her a wry look. “Not for a long time. They divorced ten years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. It’s not a sensitive subject for me. They’re much happier since they split up.”
“Are you an only child?”
“No, I have a younger sister. She had a harder time with the divorce. She was just fourteen. She’s married now and I don’t see her that often. I don’t much like her husband.”
“How old were you when your folks divorced?”
“Eighteen. That makes me twenty-eight now.”
Melissa flashed an embarrassed smile. “I guess I wasn’t subtle enough.”
“So how old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“You moved to France when you were twenty? Was your dad crazy?”
Her spine stiffened. “He wasn’t crazy at all. He and Mom realized what a great experience it would be for me.”
John, who had just hung up the phone, entered the conversation, “You mean, Mom decided it would be a great experience for you, and forced Dad into agreeing.”
“How did she do that?” Harry asked.
John rolled his eyes, but Melissa said, “She stopped speaking to him until he gave in.”
Harry looked at John, “How long did that take?”
“A couple of days,” Melissa stated. Suddenly she noticed John smiling and Harry looking at him, nodding.
“What?”
Her brother shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”
She turned to stare at Harry. “Why were you nodding?”
“I was just acknowledging what you said,” he replied. He certainly didn’t want to tell Melissa that her mother might have withheld more than her conversation. Sleeping on a lonely sofa could convince a man quickly.
“Is this soup all we’re having, sis?” John interjected. Harry recognized the subject change.
“Oh! I forgot the steak.” Melissa jumped up and headed into the kitchen.
“Good save,” Harry whispered.
“I see you thought what I thought. I didn’t ask Dad, but I figured if she wasn’t speaking to him, even Dad wasn’t going to try anything.”
Harry laughed.
When John went to help with the steak, declining Harry’s offer of assistance, Harry thought about the conversation. Clearly, Melissa’s parents had a good marriage. They still loved each other and their children. He wondered how a marriage like that would feel. And if he’d ever find out.
“Here we go,” Melissa announced, setting a thick steak down in front of Harry, steam rising from it.
John had followed her to the table, carrying his own plate.
“This looks great. Thanks. I’m just afraid I’ll fall asleep before I can finish. Have you noticed that when you warm up after being out in the cold it makes you sleepy?”
“Yes,” Melissa said with a chuckle. “Mom used to let us play outside in winter just before lunch. Then she’d feed us and put us to bed at once. We never even complained about naps.”
“Sometimes I wish I was still that young,” John said with a sigh.
Melissa frowned. “Why, John? Is something wrong?”
“No, not really. It’s just…Dad wants me to take over running the ranch, but I can feel him staring over my shoulder all the time.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
Harry cleared his throat. “That would be a little difficult, Melissa.”
“Why?” she asked, turning to gaze at him.
Harry sought for words. “It would be like you taking over the cooking. Even if your mother ate what you fixed, you probably would think she was criticizing your cooking in her head.”
“No, I wouldn’t think that.”
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