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Quint wasn’t surprised that Jessy would seek the facts first. There was a lesson to be learned from the way she dealt with things.
Details she wanted, and details he provided, everything from his discovery of the fire and the man he’d seen running away to the shot he’d fired and their efforts to check the blaze prior to the arrival of the firefighting crews. Through it all a part of him registered the other activity going on in the kitchen, water gushing from the faucets, Empty standing at the sink, washing his hands, Dallas collecting plates and silverware and placing them around the table, the vague hum of their voices.
“Most of the stock managed to escape the fire, but we did find three cows that were cut up pretty bad. They had some burns around the hocks and singed skin. More than likely they went through the barbed wire fence to get away from the flames.” Quint rubbed a hand against his forehead and struggled to organize the damages into a coherent list, but nearly thirty-six hours without sleep was having its effect on him. “Right now none of their injuries look to be serious, although one of the cows did abort her calf. The fire weakened nearly all of the wooden posts along the inner fencing,” he continued. “So all of it will have to be replaced.”
At the stove, Dallas turned the burner down under a pot of corn and strained to catch Quint’s words. A chair leg scraped across the floor, cutting across the sound of his voice. She darted an irritated glance at her grandfather when he took a seat at the table. Her annoyance vanished the instant her glance fell on the haggard lines etched in his face.
Yet exhausted as he was, Empty Garner had been a rancher too long, and nighttime had always been when the next day’s work was planned. “First thing tomorrow morning we need to get that burned hay out of the corral,” he stated. “It’s the smell of it that’s probably spooking the horses and keeping them from coming back in. We’ll need to catch them so we can ride out and check the cattle. It’s hard to get close to them in a truck.”
Unaware that Dallas had overheard Quint’s account of the injured cows, Empty went on to tell her about them, describing the wounds they’d doctored and which salve had been applied on the burns, his forceful, semiloud voice almost completely drowning out Quint’s more quietly pitched one. Dallas managed to snatch bits of Quint’s conversation, something about Rutledge, morning, and bales, enough for Dallas to assume it was about the hay that had been delivered.
But mostly she couldn’t piece it together into anything that made sense. There was frustration in that. At the same time a part of her was glad.
Not until the end of the phone conversation did Empty fall silent and Quint’s voice was the only one in the room. “Sounds good, Jess. I’ll talk to you then,” he said and hung up.
His hand stayed on the receiver for a thoughtful moment. Then he rolled to his feet and went to the sink to wash up, a tired and distracted look to his expression. Dallas busied herself dishing up the evening meal and transferring it to the table, sett
ing the platter of roast beef in front of her grandfather to carve. By the time Quint joined them at the table, all was in readiness.
“So what’s the word?” As always, Empty came straight to the point. “Are you going to order more hay from the same outfit that sold you the last bunch?”
“By now Rutledge is bound to have done some arm-twisting to cut off that source.” Quint reached for his napkin and absently draped it across his lap.
“You’re probably right there.” Empty spooned a helping of corn onto his plate. “Likely you’ll have to buy it from another outfit.”
“We’re still talking about it and mulling over a couple ideas. Jessy’s going to get back with me tomorrow night. We’ll know more then,” Quint stated and took the platter of carved beef Dallas passed to him. He slid her an appreciative smile. “Dinner looks good.”
“Ah, but can you stay awake long enough to eat it?” she teased lightly, oddly relieved that as yet she had nothing to report.
“Now there’s the question,” Quint agreed with an easy grin.
Conversation was minimal during the meal as both men centered their attention on the food before them. Dallas suspected she was the only one uneasy with the long stretches of silence. She blamed her meeting with Boone for making it difficult to ignore the reason she was really there.
At meal’s end, Quint and Empty leaned back in their chairs and replayed the day’s events over a cup of coffee while Dallas transferred the leftovers to individual containers and stored them in the refrigerator. When she returned to the table to clear off the dirty dishes, Empty heaved a big sigh.
“I think I’m going to call it a day. I’m whupped,” he declared.
“The bed’s the best place for you,” Dallas said. “Not that easy chair.”
“And bed is where I’m going, too.” He flattened both hands on the table and used them to lever himself out of the chair.
When he shuffled out of the kitchen, Quint stirred. “I’ll give you a hand with these dishes.”
“I can do them myself tonight.” Dallas piled the dirty silverware atop the stack of the dinner plates. “You look like you’re out on your feet, too.”
“I feel a bit like that as well.” Quint collected the cups and drink glasses and followed Dallas to the sink. “But you’re bound to be as tired as I am.”
“Not really. I cheated and grabbed a nap this afternoon.” She suddenly found it difficult to respond naturally to Quint, discovering that she was no longer sure why that was. As a consequence, she chose to keep it light. “So, go hit the shower, then the sack, in that order.”
“Always looking after someone, aren’t you?” His arm brushed hers when he set the items in the sink along with the rest of the dishes. Bone-tired he might be, but not so much that the contact and her nearness didn’t stimulate his male impulses.
“It’s a habit, I guess.” Her easy dismissal of it was delivered with a smile.
“It’s one that I like.” Quint studied her upturned face and the light sparkle in her sherry-colored eyes. But it was the slightly parted line of her lips that drew him. “But there are a lot of things I like about you.”
Turning, he slid his hand onto the opposite curve of her waist, drawing her toward him. He ignored the surprise that flashed in her expression and the startled tightening of her body in automatic resistance, fully aware she hadn’t anticipated his move and confident she didn’t really object.
“More than like,” he murmured an instant before his mouth settled onto her lips. They were motionless for an instant, then turned pliant and giving as his enfolding arms gathered her to him.
