The Cowboy's Secret Past
Auteur
Tina Radcliffe
Lezers
19,1K
Hoofdstukken
13
Chapter One
“I’m eighty-two years old. I don’t need a babysitter.”
Trevor Morgan’s grandfather shifted position in the wheelchair, jaw set, blue eyes determined. Despite recovering from hip-replacement surgery, the Morgan patriarch had dressed like he would have on any other day on the Lazy M Ranch. Gus Morgan rejected the sweatpants that the hospital physical therapist suggested and instead wore a plaid Western shirt, Wranglers and boots. The Stetson that sat on his thick, wavy, caramel-colored hair belied his mature age.
“Gramps, it’s not a babysitter,” Trevor said. “She’s a registered nurse.” He had repeated the same information nearly half a dozen times, yet Gramps refused to change his stance.
“Same difference,” Gus huffed. He inched himself closer to the kitchen table and eyed the pastries cooling on the counter.
The drip and gurgle of the coffee maker was the only sound in the kitchen as Trevor took a calming breath. The aroma of fresh coffee mixed with the yeasty scent of cinnamon rolls called out to him. He would have liked nothing more than to answer by easing into a chair to enjoy a mugful of strong coffee and a pastry. But it was Monday morning, and the ranch came first. June in Oklahoma meant a list of chores piling up on the Morgan cattle ranch because the nurse scheduled for 9:00 a.m. was MIA.
“Gramps, this is not a debate,” Trevor finally said. “The only reason your doctor didn’t discharge you to the rehab facility in Elk City on Friday is because I gave my word that we’d have a home health team come to the ranch.” He released a breath. “Besides, Bess is going on vacation to visit her grandbabies soon. We’re going to need some assistance during the day.”
Gus muttered under his breath and shook his head. “Define soon.”
“Two weeks.”
As if on cue, Bess Lowder, the family housekeeper and cook, walked into the kitchen with a basket full of towels to fold. She stopped, looked at Gus, and then at Trevor, her eyes round. “No nurse yet?”
“Nope.” Gus glanced at his watch. “She was supposed to be here an hour ago.”
Yeah, an hour ago, when his brothers Drew and Sam were here. They’d offered to postpone their vacation when it seemed clear that the nurse would be a no-show. Trevor refused to let that happen. The elder Morgan brothers and their families had planned a short trip to Branson, Missouri, months ago. A terrible plan, in his opinion. Though no one had asked him. Trevor’s idea of a vacation was zero people, not a destination full of them.
His gaze moved to the refrigerator decorated with pictures of Drew and Sadie’s children, along with the sonogram photo of Sam and Olivia’s babies, due in December.
Seven years ago, a wedding picture of himself and Alyssa had been prominently displayed on that fridge. Bess had kindly removed it days after the funeral.
He pushed away the thought. Not going there. Not today.
“Did your brothers leave already?” Bess asked.
Trevor nodded. He’d practically shoved them out the door, assuring them that they could entrust not only the ranch, but also Gramps to him while they were gone. The ranch, he could manage. He’d been ranch manager for nearly two years now. But Gramps? Handling him was like trying to wrestle a greased pig.
And he hated being in the position of lecturing his grandfather. Gramps was the one who’d come to live with him and his siblings when their parents died twenty-two years ago. He was the rock they all depended on, who never once let down the four Morgan brothers.
So here he was, wearing a path on the kitchen floor, growing more and more annoyed and feeling guilty as the minutes ticked by and the nurse was nowhere to be found.
He paused when something caught his eye out the window. A small blue sedan kicked up the red Oklahoma dirt as it rounded the main drive and pulled up in front of the Morgan homestead.
A petite brunette in pink scrubs burst out of the vehicle. She carried what looked like a tackle box in one hand and slid a tote bag onto her shoulder. The woman said something to the passenger in the back seat of the car as she raced up the steps to the house.
Trevor tore out of the kitchen and down the hall, yanking open the door before the woman could knock. The action caught her off guard, and she nearly toppled over. He grabbed her arm as she swayed.
“I’m—”
“I know who you are,” he said. “You’re late.”
Her hazel eyes were wide with surprise as she adjusted the pink stethoscope around her neck. Standing straight, she pushed bangs from her face and tucked a strand that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. She met his gaze without hesitation, the warmth in her eyes moving to sub-zero temperatures, which was fine with him. He wasn’t here to make friends.
“My apologies,” she murmured.
Trevor did an about-face. “Follow me.” While his boots clomped on the oak floor, her white shoes squeaked an irregular beat as she trailed him down the hall to the kitchen.
All eyes were on the nurse the moment she stepped into the room. Bess offered a welcoming smile. His grandfather perked up with interest.
“Mr. Morgan?” the nurse asked, addressing Trevor’s grandfather.
“Call me Gus. There are five Mr. Morgans on this ranch. It can be mighty confusing.”
“Gus, then. I’m Hope Burke, your case manager.” She grinned, the smile lighting up her face.
“I apologize for my delay,” Hope continued on a somber note. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to call. It won’t happen again.”
“Aw, no problem,” Gus said with a shake of his head. “Not like I had a hot date or anything.”
Trevor nearly fell over. One smile and Hope Burke had his grandfather wrapped around her pink stethoscope.
“This is my grandson Trevor,” Gramps began. “I’ve got three other grandsons. Two are on a short vacation, and the other is in Reno for a rodeo.” He turned his head toward Bess. “And this beautiful woman is Mrs. Lowder. She runs the place.”
“Bess. You call me Bess, dear.” The housekeeper chuckled. “Don’t listen to Gus. He only flatters me when he wants cinnamon rolls.”
His grandfather laughed. “I plead the Fifth on that.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Hope said, her gaze moving between Gramps and Bess and avoiding Trevor.
Gus nodded toward the tackle box in Hope’s hand. “Whatcha got in there? Are we going fishing?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Hope said with a wink. “Last summer, I caught a huge catfish over at Grand Lake. I’m ready to beat my record.”
“Woo-ee.” Gramps slapped the kitchen table with a hand. “A fellow angler. Glad to hear it. You be sure to sign up for the Homestead Pass Annual Fishing Derby. It’s at the end of July. Cash prizes and lots of bragging rights.”
“I will absolutely look into it.” Hope patted the tackle box. “This is my supply kit. I’m on the road all day, so this is a convenient way to carry everything. My electronic notebook is in the tote bag.”
“Looks like you’re ready for anything,” Gramps said.
She eyed Trevor dismissively and frowned. “Usually.”
Points for the nurse. Trevor arched an eyebrow. She had spunk. He crossed his arms as the exchange continued, a bit intrigued by the woman.
“What’s the plan?” Gramps asked.
“I’ll be here twice a week. Each time I’ll do a brief exam, including your vital signs and an examination of the incision. If your physician orders lab work, I’ll handle that as well.”
Gramps nodded.
“A home health aide will visit Monday through Friday mornings for about two hours. He’ll help you with personal hygiene and assist with your home physical therapy.”
“So I don’t have to drive to Elk City for physical therapy?” His grandfather’s expression was hopeful.
“You haven’t been cleared to drive.” Hope paused. “Someone will have to take you to PT three times a week.” She smiled and once again looked at Gramps and Bess, ignoring Trevor. “Any questions?”
“Not so far,” Gramps said. “How about you, Trev?”
“I’m good.” Yeah, he was good until he could get Hope Burke alone and discuss the schedule. She was supposed to be here to help Gramps and make life easier for all of them. So far, that hadn’t happened.
“All right, then, Mr. Morgan. Let’s get you to your room, so I can do a quick exam.”
Gus pointed to the left. “I’m staying in the guest room down the hall. Easier than the stairs.”
“Perfect.” Hope glanced around. “Where is your walker? DMEs are supposed to be delivered prior to discharge.”
“DME?” Gramps asked.
“Durable medical equipment,” Hope said.
“His DME is hiding in the closet.” Trevor stared pointedly at his grandfather. “Gramps refuses to use the thing.”
“Aw, well, I may have been a bit hasty last night,” Gus mumbled.
Trevor nearly snorted aloud. A bit hasty? When Drew had suggested using the device, his grandfather had practically given a sermon on respecting your elders, complete with Bible verses to back him up.
“No problem,” Hope said, her tone upbeat. “You’ve got a lot going on right now. I get that.” She turned to Trevor. “Would you retrieve the walker, please?”
Sure, he could retrieve the thing. That didn’t mean Gramps would actually use it.
When Trevor returned, Hope assessed the kitchen. “Your house is wheelchair-accessible. I noticed the ramp on the far side of your porch and these wide doorways.”
“Uh-huh. Trevor’s daddy did that to accommodate my late wife when we visited,” Gramps said. “We’ve got safety rails in the restroom as well.”
“That’s great.” Hope looked at Gus. “Ready?”
“I guess so.” Gramps eyed the walker, his face screwed up with distaste.
Trevor crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter, trying not to appear amused. Though he surely was.
Hope locked the wheels of Gramps’s wheelchair and met his gaze. Her voice was low and comforting, and with words of assurance, she talked him through standing, pivoting and gripping the walker while she held the aluminum device steady.
Once again, Trevor found himself surprised. She expected compliance and got just that. Not unlike when he worked with horses. A firm but gentle confidence got the job done. More points for the nurse.
“Nice work,” Hope said, rewarding Gramps with a megawatt smile. She looked over her shoulder at Trevor. “The wheelchair can go away.”
“You sure about that?” Gramps asked.
“I am. Walking is the best remedy for that hip.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Now, if you lead the way to your room, I’ll do an exam, then we’ll fill out a bit of paperwork.”
“Okey dokey,” Gramps said. He began a slow shuffle down the hall, with Hope a step behind.
Trevor stared, stunned. If he hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t have believed that the woman had managed to get his grandfather to do what he’d unequivocally refused to do last night.
“Now, that was amazing,” Bess said. She turned to Trevor and grinned. “Don’t you think?”
“What I think is that this is never going to work,” Trevor grumbled. The nurse’s smile and perky cuteness worked this time, but eventually, Gramps would catch on.
“Oh, don’t be so negative.” Bess swatted his arm. “I like her. She’s a bit of sunshine. We can certainly use some around here.”
“Are you calling me negative?” He looked at Bess.
“Well, if the wet blanket fits...” A smile hovered on her lips.
“I’m not negative. I’m forthright.”
“Forthright, hmm?” Bess leaned closer. “You’re getting to be a cranky old man, Trevor Morgan, and you’re only thirty-five years old.”
Trevor remained silent. To defend himself would only provide proof that he was cranky. He wasn’t. Not at all. He was simply a straight talker.
“No wedding rings. Did you notice?” Bess continued. “It’ll be fun to see the wranglers around here stepping over themselves to meet a cute young lady.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“You didn’t notice which? Her ring finger or that she’s cute?” Bess teased.
He jerked back at her words. “Neither.”
Bess’s laughter rang out. She held up her wrist and glanced from the silver watch to him, her eyebrows arched. “My, my. Fibbing before noon. That’s a new record.”
Bess had been around for a long time, and it was rare, if ever, that he could pull one over on her. Yeah, Hope Burke was cute, and yeah, he’d noticed she didn’t wear a ring. That didn’t mean he was interested. Trevor scowled and headed for the coffeepot. “Mind if I have a cinnamon roll?”
“Not at all. Have two. Maybe they’ll sweeten you up.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. Though the Morgan household leaned toward being heavily male, all it would take was Bess’s alignment with another female to throw the dynamics into chaos. He sensed chaos on the horizon. Yep, they were going to have some real weather at the Morgan homestead, and he planned to find cover and steer clear.
Hope adjusted the tote bag on her shoulder. In one hand, she gripped the handle of her tackle box. In the other, she held a plastic container full of cinnamon rolls. Gus and Bess were certainly welcoming. For a little while, she almost forgot why she was in Homestead Pass instead of back home in Oklahoma City. She reminded herself to stay on task. Time was not on her side, and she couldn’t risk being distracted from what she was here to do.
Unfortunately, her mission on the Lazy M Ranch involved the cranky cowboy she’d met this morning. She hadn’t expected him to be quite so arresting. Trevor Morgan was tall and lean, with impossibly blue eyes and full lips that were wasted on his unsmiling mouth. There were shadows of sadness in the depth of his gaze, and more than once she found herself curious about his story.
It had only taken a few minutes to assess the Morgan household, and aside from the irritated cowboy, there weren’t any red flags. As a home health nurse, she’d become adept at assessing family dynamics. Everything from mental-health issues to stress and undiagnosed physical problems. Part of her job also included evaluating a patient’s home environment for potential hazards.
So far, the Morgans checked all the boxes, and she couldn’t find a single outstanding issue besides what she was here to address—Gus Morgan’s postoperative care.
An hour later, Hope completed the home visit without incident. The knot in her stomach eased a bit as she left the house. First visits were always stressful. Today, doubly so.
Hope scanned the ranch before her as she carefully moved down the front steps to the walkway lined with large terra-cotta pots of crimson geraniums. Overhead, a blue sky with wispy clouds framed the view. Green pastures stretched as far as she could see. To the right, there was a barn and a stable with a corral. The area buzzed with activity as men strode in and out of the buildings.
In the distance, the muted sound of a lawn mower filled the air. A warm, humid breeze brought with it the sweet scent of cut grass. The Lazy M Ranch was beautiful, and she couldn’t deny a bit of envy at the wide-open spaces and large family that the Morgans most likely took for granted.
She’d spent her adult life in apartments in the city. Her patients had become her family, which was pathetic for a thirty-four-year-old woman to admit.
“Ms. Burke, I’d like to talk with you before you leave.”
Hope halted at the sound of Trevor Morgan’s voice. She’d nearly made it to the car and far away from the disapproving glare of Gus Morgan’s grandson.
“Yes, Mr. Morgan.” She turned and put a smile on her face as he approached.
He wasn’t smiling. Perhaps he’d forgotten how. The man was formidable. She’d give him that. Well over six feet, he was wearing a navy T-shirt that only emphasized his muscular forearms. The family resemblance was evident, although Gus had been blessed with charm and humor, which his grandson had failed to inherit.
“Ma’am, I have a ranch to run.” He tipped back his straw Stetson with a finger and then crossed his arms, assessing her.
Hope tried not to stare while at the same time doing her own evaluation, taking in the caramel-brown hair that peeked from the edges of his hat and curled a bit on his neck. She didn’t know any men who wore a five-o’clock shadow so well at ten in the morning. Rugged. That was the thought that came to mind.
She searched Trevor Morgan’s features for a resemblance to the boy sitting in her car, but found none.
“I will work to respect that,” she answered. At her response, she once again felt his penetrating gaze upon her.
“You look awfully young,” he said. “How long have you been a nurse?”
Stunned by the remark, Hope worked to hide her annoyance. “I’ve been a registered nurse for eleven years, Mr. Morgan.”
“Are you always an hour late?” he asked, his jaw tightening.
Hope relaxed at that question. This man had much to learn about life and the medical profession. It was her job to gently explain things to patients and their families. Even if this particular family member was being a rude lout.
“Patient care doesn’t always align with minutes and hours, Mr. Morgan,” she finally said. “Sometimes the Lord has different plans.”
“Pardon me?” He cocked his head and looked at her, clearly confused.
“My morning appointment. He went to be with the Lord. That was my delay.” Hope released a sad sigh. There was rejoicing at a soul going home, yes, but part of her job included comforting the loved ones left behind. The morning had left her emotionally fragile.
“Oh, I...” His face paled, and the deep blue eyes flashed with pain.
Hope immediately regretted sharing the information. Had she misjudged the man? Perhaps he was all bark.
“Then I left my phone in my car, and the battery drained,” she admitted. “I’m not making excuses. Those are the facts, though, I assure you, Mr. Morgan. It will not happen again.”
The cowboy nodded. “Um, you can call me Trevor. As my grandfather said, there are a handful of Mr. Morgans around here. I’ve got three brothers. Drew is the oldest, then Sam, then my twin brother, Lucas.”
“I see.” Hope stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say to his transformation from cranky to civil.
She certainly did not want to actually say his God-given name aloud. It seemed far too personal. “I’ll be going, and I apologize for causing you an inconvenience.”
“Yeah. Sure. Thanks for helping Gramps. We all appreciate it.” Trevor paused. “My grandfather means more to me than...” He swallowed and looked at the ground. “He’s important.”
“He’ll get my best care.” As all her patients did.
The answer seemed to satisfy him, and he turned toward the house.
With his departure, Hope slid into the driver’s seat of the car, turned to the back seat and handed her nephew, Cole, the cinnamon rolls. “Here you go. Your reward for waiting for me.”
“These are for me?” He closed his book and peeked into the blue plastic container.
“All yours. You can save me a bite.” She smiled. “You okay?”
“Yes, I sat on the porch for a bit, like you said I could.” Cole ducked his head. “I’m really sorry I used up the battery on your phone playing video games.”
“It’s my fault too. I should have brought the charger cord.” Hope shrugged. “Everything worked out. The Lord has us in the palm of His hand.”
“What does that mean?” Cole asked. The eleven-year-old hadn’t spent a lot of time in church, but Hope planned to change that.
“It means that as long as we listen to His still, small voice, we’ll stay on the path intended for us.” She smiled. “Understand?”
“I guess.” Cole inclined his head toward where Trevor stood watching them on the porch. “Who’s that?” He narrowed his eyes, his gaze intent as he stared out the mud-spattered windshield at the cowboy.
“Trevor Morgan. His grandfather is my patient.”
“Does he own all this?”
Hope glanced at the view out Cole’s window, where Angus cattle grazed in yet another pasture.
“I think his family does. Lazy M Ranch. M is for Morgan.”
She assessed her nephew as she backed out of the gravel drive and aimed the vehicle toward the exit. He was at that awkward boy-man stage. When he turned to her, soulful blue eyes searched hers. Hope would do anything to erase the deep sadness reflected in their depths. She’d been in his place when she was his age and had lost her mother. Only time and the Lord could heal his pain.
Her stepsister, Anna—Cole’s mother—had fallen and gotten up more times than Hope could count, but despite her struggles, she’d loved her son unconditionally right up until her passing.
What about Trevor Morgan? Would he love Cole the same way when he found out the boy was his son? Hope blinked and swallowed back the tears that threatened. The ache in her chest seemed unbearable today, and she rubbed at the spot with her knuckles.
One step at a time.
Hope checked her rearview mirror as the tall cowboy faded into the distance.
The road into Homestead Pass was dotted with farmhouses and ranches—a pleasant drive into a very quaint town. Hope hadn’t even known Homestead Pass existed until two weeks ago. She’d been going through the personal belongings that had been turned over to her after Anna’s death. That was when she found a stack of newspaper clippings and Cole’s birth certificate.
Cole Edward Burke. Her nephew’s middle name came from Hope’s father, who’d adopted Anna when he married Hope’s mother. Though she’d given her son the family name, Anna listed Trevor Morgan as Cole’s father. Her stepsister had never once mentioned Trevor, which was curious.
On the other hand, there wasn’t anything about Anna that was not curious. She’d popped up at intervals in Hope’s life. Usually, when she needed money, a place to land or a favor. That favor usually meant leaving Cole with Hope for a little while.
Hope had found online articles similar to the clippings Anna had collected. A write-up that highlighted rodeo events. Some even had photos. Although the clippings were from different newspapers, they had a common thread.
Trevor Morgan.
Bulldogger. She’d had to look that one up. He wrestled steer. And he was good at it.
One particular photo showed Trevor smiling broadly. That smile was a secret weapon. No wonder he didn’t use it often.
She’d done a little digging and come up with Homestead Pass as Trevor’s hometown. All she had to do was pull in a few favors with a friend at the home health company. She got herself transferred to the Elk City office for the summer. It was providence that Gus Morgan needed assistance, or maybe divine intervention.
“Where are we going?” Cole asked, interrupting Hope’s thoughts.
“To the inn for now. It’s a nice place. Don’t you think?” The accommodation at Homestead Pass Inn offered an immaculate one-bedroom suite, and Mrs. McAfee, the innkeeper, had gone out of her way to make them comfortable.
Hope had given Cole the bedroom and slept on the rollaway. The inn also provided a complimentary continental breakfast. Her bank account would suffer, paying for this and the rent on her apartment. And it wasn’t like she had a nest egg any longer. That was long gone when Hope paid off the credit-card debt Anna had rung up. Giving her stepsister the card had been a huge mistake, but what else could she do? Cole was the one who suffered when Anna was broke.
She looked at her nephew. Cole hadn’t answered the question, and she knew he couldn’t. Because while the inn was far nicer than any place where he and his mother had lived, it wasn’t home. Home was where Anna was, and that was no more.
“Will I ever go back to Tulsa?” Cole asked.
He deserved an answer, but she’d promised herself a month ago, when she’d picked him up from social services, that she wouldn’t give him anything but the truth. And the truth depended on Trevor Morgan.
Cole turned to look at her, waiting patiently for a response.
“No. Not Tulsa.” Never Tulsa. There was nothing in T town for either of them now that Anna was gone.
“Oklahoma City?” he persisted.
“That’s where my apartment is, and for now, yes, that’s home,” Hope finally said. Eventually, they did have to return to OKC. But between now and then, she didn’t know where the road would take them. One way or another, Hope had a list of decisions to make before she enrolled Cole in school at the end of summer. Where they would be at the end of summer remained the looming question.
Her nephew nodded slowly at her response, saying nothing more.
A profound sadness filled Hope at his response. Cole never argued or protested. Simply acquiesced. Eleven years old and far too accustomed to life happening to him without his permission. From now on, Hope would do everything in her power to change that.
