Сандра Паул – The Pregnant Proposition (страница 3)

The other men slowly followed, while the women stood in silence, watching until Troy climbed into his pickup.

“Well, thank goodness that’s over, and without violence, too,” Sue Ellen said, disappointment heavy in her quavery voice as Troy’s truck spewed gravel pulling out of the tiny lot, and sped to the highway with small tornadoes of dust churning behind its oversize tires. She heaved a sigh, then patted Ally’s arm as they started walking toward the cars again. “You are so lucky, dear, to have four brothers to watch out for you!”

“You certainly are!” Emma stated.

Ally wasn’t sure she agreed. She planned to talk to Cole as soon as possible concerning the decisions he’d made—without consulting her, thank you very much!—about Bride’s Price. But for the next two hours she was too busy playing hostess, serving up the tuna-and-pea casserole Emma Mae had brought and making sure everyone had plenty of coffee and second helpings of Sue Ellen’s famous peach cobbler, to even try to catch Cole alone.

After eating, everyone remained in the big kitchen talking around the scarred mahogany table that had once been Ally’s mother’s pride and joy. Glad the meal was over, Ally pushed her chair from the table and stretched out her legs, slouching as a wave of weariness swept over her.

Like many of the homes in the area, the Cabrerra ranch house was built of thick limestone blocks, excavated by the earliest settlers well over a hundred years ago. A bathroom complete with claw tub had been added in the thirties; a gas stove had replaced the wood-burning one in the fifties. Since then, not much else had been done to the place. Ally had worked hard the past week, cleaning the ranch house and trying—with limited success—to brighten the old kitchen by bringing in flowers and replacing the dingy curtains with crisp white ones she’d bought with money skimmed from the grocery allowance. Nothing, however, could hide the chips in the yellow tile counters, or the battered condition of the cupboard doors.

When she caught Emma Mae looking critically at the cracked linoleum on the floor, Ally said a shade defensively, “We’re redoing the whole kitchen, you know. Right after the next stock sale.”

Cole frowned at her across the table, shaking his head, and Ally tilted her head inquiringly in return. Did he want their plans to remain a secret for some reason? If so, tough luck, because Emma declared bluntly, “I’m glad to hear it. This house can use some updating,” and if Emma knew something—not to mention Sue Ellen—the whole town would soon know about it, too.

Perplexed by Cole’s strange behavior, Ally remained silent as the conversation rambled from the sorry state of beef prices, to the never-ending heat, to the merits of the new computer that Cole had recently purchased to replace their old model. Only half listening, Ally was jerked from her thoughts when Emma announced she’d set up a Web site for the town.

“A Web site?” Ally repeated. She glanced at the older woman in surprise. “I didn’t know you were hooked into the Internet.”

“I’m not. My computer is too old. I set the Web site up on the one the O’Malleys donated to the town library. Janie helped me,” Emma said, nodding at the younger woman—an action that caused Janie’s cheeks to turn bright pink as everyone looked her way. Ignoring Janie’s embarrassment, Emma added, “As a librarian, she knows plenty about computers. We posted all the information from the school as well as the latest issue of the Tangleweed Times.”

Ally was impressed with the women’s initiative; much less so with the O’Malleys’ generosity. Unlike Sue Ellen, who chirped repeatedly, “How kind of the O’Malleys to do something so generous, so good for the town!” she didn’t think a couple of thousand was that big a deal to a family worth millions. But, oh, what a difference a few thousand could make in her own life!

Possibly the Reverend had the same thought in regards to the new roof the church needed, or maybe—like Ally—he noticed the way the Cabrerra males all fell silent at the name O’Malley. In either case, he announced he and Janie needed to get home, and the small party quickly dispersed.

Guests gone, the Cabrerra brothers disappeared, too. Lincoln and Luke went to the barn to tinker with a broken ATV water pump, while Kyle rode out to check on the stock in the south pasture. Cole, as he did every evening, retreated to the study.

Ally was left with the cleaning up. She glanced around the kitchen, shaking her head, her mouth tightening. When needed, she helped brand, sort, feed and work cattle. She knew how to shoe the horses and mend a fence. But while it would never occur to any of her brothers to stand idly by while she worked outside on the ranch, it also never occurred to any of them to volunteer to pitch in with the often less physical but more tedious chores in the house. And lately when she asked for help, their attitude was so much of someone doing her a favor, that she preferred to just do it all herself.

So she set to work putting away the leftover food, wiping the chipped tile countertops and table and doing the dishes. Once finished, she hesitated, absently straightening the damp towel hanging beneath the farmhouse sink as she glanced out the window. The searing sun was setting, easing the harsh daytime heat. She longed to saddle up old Boomer and go for an evening ride, explore the dry riverbed or maybe catch up with Kyle to check the progress the boys had made mending the fence in the southwest pasture. Instead, she put a slice of cobbler on a plate and resolutely headed in search of Cole.

When she reached the study, she paused, leaning her shoulder against the doorjamb. Seated behind their father’s big carved desk, her oldest brother was staring unseeingly out the window at the same view she’d admired a few minutes earlier. Although evening had edged in, the light filtering through the wavy glass was still bright enough to highlight the faint lines etched beside his eyes, the creases in his lean, tanned cheeks and the stern set of his mouth.

He wasn’t smiling; he rarely smiled anymore, Ally realized. He’d always been rather serious, but at least he used to be more approachable. It had been big brother Cole whom Ally had run to after their mother had suddenly died in a horseback riding accident when Ally was only four. And twenty-year-old Cole who’d comforted her when their father, after a long heartrending battle, finally succumbed to lung cancer when she was fourteen.

Remembering those dark times, Ally sighed, and Cole glanced at her. His blue eyes softened as he saw the plate in her hands.

“Come to fatten me up, Al?” he asked as she walked toward him.

“I noticed you didn’t have dessert earlier.” She set the plate on a pile of papers littering the big desk. “And you might as well enjoy some while you can, because when we start the kitchen remodeling—”

“Actually,” Cole interrupted her, “I wanted to talk to you about that. We’re going to have to wait with the kitchen.”

Ally sank in the chair in front of the desk to stare at him in dismay. “Why?”

“Because we just don’t have the money right now to start a major project on the house.” Reading the disappointment in her expression, he added apologetically, “I was going to discuss it with you, but I just couldn’t seem to find the right time.”

Her lips tightened. “You mean you couldn’t find the right way to tell me that the new kitchen that was so all-fired important when you were planning on bringing a wife home became considerably less so when it came to your sister.”

“That’s not the way it was at all,” he said, deep voice sharpening defensively. “I knew we had to have a new computer—” he nodded at the machine that sat center stage, glowing softly on the broad oak desk “—but I didn’t expect to have to replace the engine on the pickup this year as well as get another baler. You know we can’t do without either of those, and the new computer will make charting the breeding records, as well as doing the books, a hundred times faster and easier.”

“And buying a new stove and dishwasher would make my work a hundred times faster and easier, too.” Ally shook her head in frustration. “For goodness’ sake, Cole, the oven door falls off every time I open it too far. Do you know how hard it is to pull out a pan of hot biscuits with one hand, while trying to keep the oven door on with the other?”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He sighed, running a hand through his thick dark hair. “I’ll get Luke or Linc to weld a new hinge on it. And as soon as we can afford it, I’ll buy you a new stove. I promise.”

Ally wasn’t impressed with his assurance. “If you let Vorquez go, we could afford the stove right now.”

Ally knew that George Vorquez, the land claims man Cole had hired to prospect for oil, was one of the most respected geologists in the county. But if their father, who had the Circle C tested years ago, hadn’t met with success, she doubted they’d have any now.

But Cole’s jaw tightened. He picked up his fork and moodily stabbed at the crust of the cobbler. “Oil’s there, Al. I know it is.