The Cattleman's Special Delivery Read Online Free PDF Page A

loves something.
You’re probably sick of seeing photos of her, but here’s one more. You can see she’s quite roly-poly now. Please ignore how I look. I was a bit tired that day and I hadn’t washed my hair, but then, you’ve seen me at my worst, haven’t you?
Reece, I hope all is well with you. You didn’t actually say much in your concise and slightly cryptic note. Mind you, that’s not a criticism.
     
     
For ever in your debt,
Jess
     
     
    * * *
    R EECE opened the door to his father’s room—just a crack—and made sure the old man was sleeping peacefully. Satisfied, he went back to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge and snapped its lid. Tipping his head, he took a draught, letting the icy lager slide down his throat.
    He pushed the flyscreen door and went through to the veranda, propped his elbows on the railing and stared out at the paddocks that stretched long and flat to the distant line of trees. He thought again about Jess.
    She made out that she was fine in her letters, but something wasn’t right—he was sure of it. To begin with, she had no computer or phone for sending emails, and now she’d changed her street address. On the surface, that was probably no big deal—although a single mum moving house with a young baby couldn’t be a picnic—but it was the photo that really bothered him.
    He took it again from his shirt pocket and stepped into a circle of light to examine it carefully. The baby Rosie was as roly-poly and cute as Jess claimed. Reece found himself smiling as he recognised the same features he’d first witnessed on the night she was born, now filling out.
    But he was shocked by the change in the young mother. Jess was so thin, with dark shadows under her eyes, and no sparkle to her smile. She’d claimed she was just tired, but to him she looked ill, or worried. Or both.
    You’ve seen me at my worst.
    Not so, Reece thought, remembering her flushed cheeks and bright eyes as she greeted her baby for the first time.
    Admittedly, becoming a widow and a mother on the very same night would be a terrible strain for any woman, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Jess Cassidy was carrying an extra burden.
    On top of his worries about his father, it was enough to keep him awake long into the night.
    * * *
    At the first lull in the café’s morning chaos, Jess gave in to her fear. Ducking out of her boss’s line of sight, behind the big commercial refrigerator in the back kitchen, she rang the day-care centre.
    ‘Alana, it’s Jess Cassidy. I’m just ringing to check if Rosie is still OK?’
    ‘She seems fine,’ the young attendant assured her.
    ‘Are you sure there’s no sign of a temperature?’ Rosie had been fretful all night and Jess was terrified she was getting sick.
    ‘No, Jess. I knew you were worried so I’ve kept an especially close eye on her. She’s had a nice nap and she woke up quite happy.’
    ‘Well, that’s good to hear. She was so upset last night. All night.’
    ‘Perhaps she’s teething. I noticed she’s been chewing on her fists.’
    ‘That’s probably it. I guess it’s about time.’
    ‘Jess!’ roared a male voice. ‘What the hell are you up to?’
    Jess spun around to find Joel Fink, her boss, glaring at her. Last time she’d looked, he’d been at the far end of the café busily chatting up his favourite female customer. ‘I—I had to make a quick phone call.’
    ‘Not on my time and not on my phone.’
    ‘It wasn’t a social call,’ Jess told him coldly, refusing to be cowed. ‘I needed to ring the day-care centre.’
    ‘My customers’ needs come first. And they need you to stop chatting and to feed them.’ Snatching the phone from her, he slapped an order onto the bench. ‘Two serves of strawberry pancakes. Cream, no ice cream. Get cracking.’
    Lips tightly compressed, Jess got to work. Pancakes. Again. She was heartily sick of cooking breakfasts and lunches. As a fully qualified chef, she found it a breeze to