know it has to be done, but I feel so sorry for the little guys. And what if I messed up?” she said as she let a calf nuzzle her hand.
“Last chance.”
“No, I’m good.”
“No argument from me, babe.” Whip arrived, catching the tail end of the conversation.
“Last chance for what?” Mark asked, coming up behind.
“Branding. Jess has been a huge help. I thought she might like to give it a go.”
“Huge help — I don’t think so.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “A minor one, maybe, but it’s nice of you to say so.”
Whip glanced at her with inquiring eyes. A definite shake of her head had him turning back to Drew.
“She looks all done in. I think it’s time I got this little lady home.” He looped his arm around her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.
“See you back at the homestead then,” Mark said, and Drew lifted his hand and waved.
“Okay.” She raised a smile, and then Whip guided her over to where he’d tethered their horses.
Millie was grazing under a lone tree.
“Hello, girl.” Jessica patted the horse’s neck.
Millie whickered, and Whip gave her a leg up. She settled into the saddle and took a firm grip of the reins. Whip then vaulted onto his stallion, and they all set off at a slow walk.
About an hour later, when they arrived back at the homestead, one of the hired hands attended to the horses, and that was a godsend. A hot shower, a cold drink, and if truth be told, a good nap was tempting, but bone weary or not, she’d promised to cook dinner.
Whip told her not to bother, that they’d fix something light later and insisted she go upstairs and relax in a hot bath while he attended to some paperwork. But the men had worked so much harder than she, and her mother’s words echoing in her head haunted her. “A promise is a promise, Jessica. Your word is your bond, remember that.” So when Whip disappeared into his office, although feeling like a shattered wreck, she ambled down the hall and into the kitchen, her intent to wash her hands and then check out supplies.
A pleasant surprise awaited her, and an automatic smile bloomed on her face when she pushed open the door. Gladys was bent over the oven humming a tune and busy putting two chickens in to roast.
“Please tell me they’re for dinner?”
Gladys looked up, her gray eyes crinkling. “I figured you’d be tired after helping out all day, you being a big city girl.”
“You’re a life saver, Gladys.”
She would have kissed the thin, birdlike little woman if she’d had the energy. “Can I do anything at all to help?”
“No, it’s all under control. You go on upstairs and freshen up,” she said, adding a large tray of vegetables to the oven. “And put on a pretty frock, get gussied up for your man.” Her tone softened, and her eyes brightened at the reference to Whip.
Jessica didn’t need to be persuaded. Whip had mentioned that Gladys had commenced work as the station cook when he was knee high to a grasshopper. But when the McGregor parents were killed in an air crash when the twins were eighteen and Brenda not even two, she’d stepped in and taken on the role of housekeeper, disciplinarian, and surrogate mother, leaving the shed cooking to a newcomer named Riley. Not that anyone called him that nowadays. To everyone he was just Cookie.
“If you’re sure, then I’ll go and get cleaned up.”
“You do that, love.”
Jessica headed straight upstairs and into the bathroom. After a long hot soak in a rejuvenating bubble bath, she took Gladys’ advice and put on a pretty dress. Whip was already showered and dressed. He waited while she added a touch of makeup and perfume before leading her back downstairs for dinner.
The family was gathered in the dining room. Drew handed her a cold glass of white wine and Whip a beer. They settled into an easy discussion about the day’s progress that continued over dinner.
Many hours later and back upstairs in the master bedroom preparing for bed,
“Last chance.”
“No, I’m good.”
“No argument from me, babe.” Whip arrived, catching the tail end of the conversation.
“Last chance for what?” Mark asked, coming up behind.
“Branding. Jess has been a huge help. I thought she might like to give it a go.”
“Huge help — I don’t think so.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “A minor one, maybe, but it’s nice of you to say so.”
Whip glanced at her with inquiring eyes. A definite shake of her head had him turning back to Drew.
“She looks all done in. I think it’s time I got this little lady home.” He looped his arm around her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.
“See you back at the homestead then,” Mark said, and Drew lifted his hand and waved.
“Okay.” She raised a smile, and then Whip guided her over to where he’d tethered their horses.
Millie was grazing under a lone tree.
“Hello, girl.” Jessica patted the horse’s neck.
Millie whickered, and Whip gave her a leg up. She settled into the saddle and took a firm grip of the reins. Whip then vaulted onto his stallion, and they all set off at a slow walk.
About an hour later, when they arrived back at the homestead, one of the hired hands attended to the horses, and that was a godsend. A hot shower, a cold drink, and if truth be told, a good nap was tempting, but bone weary or not, she’d promised to cook dinner.
Whip told her not to bother, that they’d fix something light later and insisted she go upstairs and relax in a hot bath while he attended to some paperwork. But the men had worked so much harder than she, and her mother’s words echoing in her head haunted her. “A promise is a promise, Jessica. Your word is your bond, remember that.” So when Whip disappeared into his office, although feeling like a shattered wreck, she ambled down the hall and into the kitchen, her intent to wash her hands and then check out supplies.
A pleasant surprise awaited her, and an automatic smile bloomed on her face when she pushed open the door. Gladys was bent over the oven humming a tune and busy putting two chickens in to roast.
“Please tell me they’re for dinner?”
Gladys looked up, her gray eyes crinkling. “I figured you’d be tired after helping out all day, you being a big city girl.”
“You’re a life saver, Gladys.”
She would have kissed the thin, birdlike little woman if she’d had the energy. “Can I do anything at all to help?”
“No, it’s all under control. You go on upstairs and freshen up,” she said, adding a large tray of vegetables to the oven. “And put on a pretty frock, get gussied up for your man.” Her tone softened, and her eyes brightened at the reference to Whip.
Jessica didn’t need to be persuaded. Whip had mentioned that Gladys had commenced work as the station cook when he was knee high to a grasshopper. But when the McGregor parents were killed in an air crash when the twins were eighteen and Brenda not even two, she’d stepped in and taken on the role of housekeeper, disciplinarian, and surrogate mother, leaving the shed cooking to a newcomer named Riley. Not that anyone called him that nowadays. To everyone he was just Cookie.
“If you’re sure, then I’ll go and get cleaned up.”
“You do that, love.”
Jessica headed straight upstairs and into the bathroom. After a long hot soak in a rejuvenating bubble bath, she took Gladys’ advice and put on a pretty dress. Whip was already showered and dressed. He waited while she added a touch of makeup and perfume before leading her back downstairs for dinner.
The family was gathered in the dining room. Drew handed her a cold glass of white wine and Whip a beer. They settled into an easy discussion about the day’s progress that continued over dinner.
Many hours later and back upstairs in the master bedroom preparing for bed,
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