She touched her cheek, feeling how flaming hot it was. Reese had given her a look that made her feel like butter running in a hot skillet. She saw desire in his eyes for her. Didn’t she? Or was it her imagination? She had been alone for so long, used to doing everything by herself without any help, that it felt odd but nice to have Reese’s protective nature surround her. It didn’t feel suffocating. Instead, it felt steadying and supportive.
Garret had just come in from his duties outdoors and was tying a blue apron around his waist when she walked into the kitchen. When he wasn’t cooking for the crew, he was doing odd jobs on the ranch. Earlier, he’d thrown a leg over Jak, their black quarter horse gelding, and rode fence line. Wyoming winters were rough, and there was a lot of fencing down that needed to be repaired.
“Hey,” she called, pulling her leather purse off one of the wooden pegs along the wall, “I’ve got your list. I’m going into town. Need anything else?”
Garret grinned and pulled a big iron skillet from the stove drawer. “How about fifty pounds of good rib eye steaks?”
“In your dreams, Garret.” Shay knew their budget allowed for cuts of only cheap meats like turkey, chicken, mutton, and hamburger. Garret was skilled at making great dishes out of them and it hurt her that she couldn’t give these hardworking guys real beef that had more protein in it per ounce than the other meat. She heard him chuckle.
“I got an idea, Shay.”
“Okay,” she said, halting at the stove, “I’m all ears.”
“You know Maud Whitcomb, who owns the Wind River Ranch?”
“Yes, of course.”
“She often donates buffalo meat to a local charity in Jackson Hole. She’s got a small herd and she culls it yearly.” He gave her a softened look. “I’ll call her and ask her if she has any leftover meat we might be able to buy cheap. What do you think?”
Feeling shame, Shay kept her face carefully arranged. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She knew every other charity and country outreach program in Lincoln County for those who had less. “That’s a great idea. Maud is one of the most generous people in the valley. I’ll call her and ask, Garret. It’s my place.” She saw his hard face melt a little, his hazel eyes sad. None of them liked begging for handouts. She touched his massive shoulder. “I’ll do it,” she promised firmly.
“You’re already doing too much, Shay. I’ve met Maud many times over at Charlie Becker’s hay and feed store. It would be easy enough for me to pick up the phone and call her.”
Wincing internally, she kept her game-face in place. “Naw, don’t go there. We’re all doing too much, and that’s the truth. We aren’t going to compare who is doing more or less.” She wanted to change topics. “What are we having tonight?”
“Roasted Cornish game hens with rice stuffing. Sound good?”
She brightened, giving him a smile. “Does it ever. Well, I’ve got to run . . .”
Garret got busy with the game hens and making the stuffing out of white rice and veggies, with a bit of his special sauce added to the mixture. Later, he felt someone come into the kitchen, although there was no sound to alert him. It was his sixth sense giving him the warning. Turning, he saw Reese standing uncertainly in the doorway.
“Those accounting books drown you yet?” he asked dryly, pointing to a freshly made pot of coffee on the counter.
Reese smiled a little and sauntered in. “I don’t have to worry about being drowned by numbers,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He looked up. “Want a cup?”
“Yeah, sounds good. The mugs are up there.” He pointed toward a cupboard to his left.
Reese poured coffee and slid a mug in Garret’s direction. The man had six game hens stuffed and sitting in a large baking dish on the counter. “You would know the most about the food supplies around here, right?”
“Yeah, I’m the one who makes out the lists. Why?” Garret shot him a brief look.
“I’m into the daily ledger and in the last hour I’ve been analyzing Shay’s budget and the food she buys.”
Snorting, Garret said, “Listen, Shay does a lot with too little.”
Nodding, Reese felt Garret start to get defensive, protecting Shay. “She does a lot for all of us,” he agreed quietly. He saw Garret’s shoulders start to relax. “I’m trying to grasp how much money goes out monthly on food. Do you have an approximate number for that?”
Mouth thinning, Garret quickly chopped up some celery on the cutting board with swift motions. “Shay will probably never tell you this, but I will. First, those books have to get straightened out. I tried, and it was too much for me.” Garret gave him a flat look. “Shay’s income varies greatly month-to-month. It all depends upon what the three of us can bring in for her and the ranch. Harper works part-time at a garage in Jackson Hole. Noah trains horses and dogs, and he gives riding lessons. I’m a construction guy, and I get jobs around the valley from time to time.”