by Janet Dailey
* * *
Vivian sat in the porch swing, drinking her second glass of iced coffee and savoring the prospect of a day to herself. It was amazing how the knots of tension inside her loosened when her husband and son were out of the house. When they were here, it was as if she were constantly pulled between pleasing her husband and protecting her son—and failing at both. Only when she was alone did she feel free to breathe and to think her own thoughts.
What would she do with her time? With the SUV in the shop, she couldn’t go to town. And even after years as a ranch manager’s wife, she’d never learned to ride a horse. It was too hot and dusty for any kind of walk. But here in the house, she could do whatever she liked.
Sunlight slanted through the trees, its rays turning the dust motes in the air to flecks of gold along the rutted back road. Vivian’s gaze traced the road to where it curved out of sight, ending at the Rimrock Ranch. She imagined herself, maybe with a pie or a batch of homemade cookies, knocking on the door of the ranch house and finding Will at home alone. He would invite her in, and the two of them would talk. He would reach out to her, touch her, and whisper, You don’t know how much I’ve needed you, Vivian. . . .
But that was only a fantasy. It was too hot to bake anything. If she were to walk to the Rimrock, she would arrive a sweaty, dusty mess. And Will would probably be off working somewhere. Even if he happened to be home, Will’s daughter, the cook, and that older woman who was visiting would probably be there, too.
But there was no law against a little daydreaming.
Maybe she should try writing a romance novel. She had lots of ideas. She could start by writing down some of her fantasies, or better yet, maybe a make-believe letter to Will. It wouldn’t be a real letter, of course, and she wouldn’t dream of sending it. But Vivian found the idea of writing down her erotic thoughts strangely exciting.
Going inside, she found a pad of good quality notepaper and a pen in Hunter’s desk. She wouldn’t use the computer. A machine would be too impersonal. And there was always the chance that Hunter or Kyle would find the file. They would probably laugh at her. That, or she’d have a lot of explaining to do.
Feeling vaguely naughty, she sat down at the kitchen table and thought for a moment. The words came slowly at first, then, as she wrote, they began to flow.
My darling Will . . . Last night in your arms, I became a woman all over again. . . . Until our bodies became one, I never knew how lovemaking could bring two souls together....
* * *
Rose’s parcel was a twenty-minute drive north from the heart of the Rimrock. The dirt road was rutted and dusty, the landscape open and dotted with scrub. Red and white Hereford cattle, most of them wearing the Rimrock’s rocking-R brand, grazed among mesquite thickets and scraggly clumps of sage.
The cattle looked poor, Rose thought. Clearly the dried grass and weeds weren’t giving them the nourishment they needed. No wonder Will was worried. But here, at least, with the creek filling the tank, the animals would have water.
As the station wagon, with Erin at the wheel, neared the thirty-acre strip of land, Rose felt the tug of memories. So many memories. She pictured her grandfather’s little cabin, where he’d moved after his retirement from the university and the death of his wife. He’d taken Rose in when she’d fled an abusive foster home, sheltering her and giving her the best education a young girl could want. She remembered his tragic murder, with Bull and Jasper snatching her to safety before the cabin went up in flames.
After eleven years in Mexico, where Bull had taken her after Ham Prescott’s death, she’d come back, reclaimed the land, and tried to make a life here. Once again, violence had caught up with her. But one happy memory remained. Here, she had met Tanner. Here, they had fallen in love.
“This is it,” Erin said, stopping the vehicle. “There’s the tank. Do you want to get out here?”
“Might as well.” Rose opened the door and climbed out, mindful of the small, loaded pistol she wore in a belt holster at her hip.
Erin had been surprised to see Rose show up with a gun. “I can’t imagine you’ll need that,” she’d said.
“Bear with me, sweetheart,” Rose had replied. “If you had my memories of the place, you’d probably be packing a gun, too.”
The tank was galvanized metal, built up around the rim with earth. A hose connected to a heavy PVC pipe ran between the tank and the creek. There were a few trees growing near the water, mostly cottonwood and elder. But the grasses and wildflowers were gone, eaten or trampled away. Only the sound of the creek, so sweet and pure that Rose had never forgotten it, remained unchanged.
Erin opened the back of the wagon and pulled out two rakes and a shovel, along with a pair of leather work gloves. “Let’s go,” she said. “If there’s something special you want done, just let me know.”
With a nod, Rose followed her to the littered grave beneath the old fallen tree. The condition of the place made her want to weep. But everything would be all right, she told herself. Her land was beneath her feet, and today she was starting work on her new home.
* * *
Screened by a patch of mesquite, Marie watched the two women carry the tools toward the creek. After seeing the station wagon leave the ranch, she had cut through the foothills on her bike. It had been easy enough to guess that the women were coming here. They were driving north on the road that was more of a trail, and this place was where it ended.
By the time the wagon had stopped, Marie was in her hiding place, close enough to watch, but too far away to get a good shot with the pistol she’d taken off the old man. When she was ready to fire, she would need to move in closer. That might mean showing herself, but if she killed both women, which she would have to do, it wouldn’t matter if they saw her.
She could see them through the trees, moving in and out of sight. They appeared to be raking and digging at a spot near the creek, talking as they worked. It would be easy enough to get closer, but difficult to get a clear shot without hitting a tree. It might be better to wait until they came back to the car.
Marie sighed in frustration. She knew how to make a simple bomb and wire it to the ignition of a car. But she had no way to make one here. Too bad. For this situation, it would have been perfect.
She was about to move in closer when the smaller, older woman turned to one side. That was when Marie saw the holstered pistol at her hip. A woman wearing a gun in that fashion would know how to use it. If she happened to be a fast draw and a good shot, the risk of being hit was greater than Marie was willing to take.
Moving soundlessly, she backed away. By the time the two women returned to the station wagon, Marie was back in the foothills, waiting for them to leave so she could start her bike.
Maybe it was time to do some creative thinking.
* * *
Erin loaded the tools into the back of the station wagon and closed the hatch. It had taken a little less than an hour to clean off the grave and erect a protective barrier of sticks and branches around it.
“I can’t thank you enough for your help.” Rose brushed the dust off her jeans before climbing into the passenger seat. “My grandpa was a wonderful man. He taught me everything I know about science, math, and history, and he died protecting me from the Prescotts. His resting place deserves to be honored, not trampled by cows.”
“It was an honor to help.” Erin settled into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle. “We might have some leftover fencing materials in the shed. If I can find what we need, we can come again and put up a real fence around the grave.”
“You’d do that for me? Thank you. That would make me feel so much better about the place.”
“What are your plans?” Erin turned the wagon around and headed back toward the heart of the ranch. “I know you’ve talked to my dad, but he hasn’t told me much.”
“I’m still making plans,” Rose said. “What I hope to do is sell my Wyoming house to Tanner’s brother and use the money to build m
y own little home here, on my property, with chickens and goats and maybe a dog or two.”
“Then we’d be neighbors. I’d love that.”
“So would I. But I’m still getting a grip on how much work it’s going to involve. Just burying that ugly water pipe and fencing off the boundary will take some doing. I only hope your father will go along with my plans.” Rose took a moment to lower her side window. “And what about your plans, Erin? Will tells me you want to stay on the ranch. But what about the rest? Are you going to marry that young man of yours?”
“He’s not my young man, and I’m not going to marry him. We broke up last night. For good.”
“Oh.” Rose sounded almost pleased. “I could say I was sorry, but it would be a lie. You can do better than that boy.”
“I hope my father agrees with you. I haven’t told him yet.”
“Will loves you. All he really wants is for you to be happy.”
“I know. But his idea of happy is for me to be married to a suitable man who’ll stay on the ranch and breed a new generation of little Tylers, or whatever their names will be.”
“So, what’s your idea of happy?” Rose asked.
“I’m still figuring that out. What my father wants for me is fine, I guess. But it’s not enough. I want to be in love—truly in love, like my parents were. Right now, I’m not even sure what that feels like. I only know I didn’t feel it with Kyle.”
“You’re still young,” Rose said. “Give it some time. I was twenty-six when I fell in love with Tanner. It took me that long to find the right man, but the wait was worth it—not that I was waiting. I wasn’t even looking for love. He just happened along, and I knew.”
“But how did you know? Was it like a sky full of fireworks going off the first time he kissed you?”
Rose gave Erin a knowing look, as if she’d already guessed about Luke and that wild, forbidden kiss. “It can start like that,” she said, smiling. “But the real thing goes much deeper. When his happiness comes to matter more than your own, when you’d risk any danger or hardship to be with him . . .” She paused, perhaps remembering. “When it feels like that, you’re on your way.”
“So you think I was right to turn down Kyle’s proposal?”
“Only you can be the judge of that, dear. But if you want my advice, I can offer you three things that life has taught me—wait for as long as it takes, don’t settle for less than real love, and when it comes to you, don’t close the door.”
They had reached the ranch yard. Erin let Rose off at the duplex and drove around to the shed to unload the tools. From the far side of the yard, she could hear Luke’s intermittent hammering.
Sooner or later she would have to talk to him, if only about the horses. The longer she waited, the more uncomfortable the silence between them would become. He would want to know what she’d learned in town. She would have questions about his work. It was time she ended the awkward standoff between them.
She put the tools on the rack, closed the shed, and parked the station wagon next to the house. Climbing out, she hesitated a moment. He could still be angry with her. He could rebuff her with cutting words, as he had the young girl who’d been told to go play with her dolls. Or he could simply turn his powerful back and ignore her.
But he was her father’s employee, and hers, Erin reminded herself. She was the one in charge—although being in charge of Luke was like being in charge of a wild stallion.
Taking a moment, she went inside the house, hung the car keys on their hook by the door, and found a bottle of Corona in the fridge.
With her pulse racing, and the ice cold bottle dripping condensation, she set off across the yard.
CHAPTER TEN
ERIN FOUND LUKE UNDER THE OPEN SHED, SHOEING A YOUNG GRAY gelding. She stood by the fence watching, waiting for him to look up and notice her.
He’d taken off his chambray work shirt and tossed it over the fence. Perspiration beaded his face and streamed down his arms and torso. His skin gleamed like polished bronze, the light casting every muscle into sculpted relief. He was beautiful, Erin thought, if that word could be applied to a gruff, masculine loner like Luke. Maybe rugged would be more appropriate, or even majestic.
For a few minutes he seemed totally intent on his work. Only when he shifted his position from the gelding’s front hoof to the back did he glance up and see her. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” Heart pounding, Erin held up the beer. “I brought you a peace offering.”
He grinned, showing a slightly chipped tooth in front. “Hang on to it while I finish shoeing this pretty boy. He won’t take kindly to standing still while I drink it.”
“Fine, but I can’t promise it’ll be cold.” Erin felt the tension easing between them. Maybe they could even be friends again.
“That’s okay, as long as it’s wet.”
“Take your time—I’ve got an idea.” An empty metal pail stood next to the gate. Erin carried it to the outside tap by the barn, filled it with cold water, and lowered the bottle of Corona into it. When he finished shoeing the horse, the beer would still be cold.
“So, how did your visit to the sheriff go?” he asked, talking while he worked.
“Not great. The deputy pretty much convinced me that Jasper was robbed by somebody who came along after the so-called accident.”
“You say pretty much?” He used a small hammer to nail the shoe to the outer layer of the hoof, keeping clear of the sensitive inner part. “Does that mean you still have your doubts?”
“Some, I guess. But there’s not much I can do about it.”
“You can be careful. Trust your instincts. If you sense danger out there, assume you could be right.” He finished clipping the nail points on the last hoof and released the gelding with a gentle slap on its haunch. “Time for a break. I’ll take that beer now.”
He came out of the pen, closed the gate behind him, and reached for the beer in her hand. After popping open the lid, he took a long, slow drink. When he lowered it, the bottle was half empty. With his free hand, he picked up the pail by the handle. “Just what I need, a nice, cold shower. Want to do the honors?”
“What? You want me to dump it on you?”
Laughter glinted in his dark eyes. “That, or hold the beer while I do it myself.”
“Here.” Erin took the pail from his hand, raised it as high as she could, and upended it over his head.
He laughed, shivering as the cold water cascaded down his body. Droplets clung to the mat of black hair on his chest, the sun turning them to tiny rainbows. His nipples had shrunk to hard nubs. Looking at him, Erin felt a subtle clench, like a tightening fist, deep in her body. Her close-up experience with men was limited, but her instincts told her she was on the path to trouble.
He raked back his dripping hair, finished the beer, and dropped the bottle into the pail, which Erin had set on the ground. “Thanks, I feel like a new man,” he said.
“You’re welcome. I was afraid you were mad at me.” As soon as the words came out, Erin wanted to bite them back. She sounded like a fool.
“Mad at you?” One dark eyebrow slid upward. “What for?”
“For . . . what didn’t happen.” She was digging herself deeper and deeper.
“Oh, that!” He chuckled. “Believe me, the one thing I wasn’t was mad. Crazy, maybe. But not mad. So shall we pretend to forget about it?”
“Yes. That’s a good idea.” Ignoring her blazing face, she changed the subject. “How’s my stallion doing?”
“He was fine early this morning. But he was a little stand-offish with me. I can tell he’s a one-woman horse. Maybe you should go and say hello to him.”
“I’ll do that.” Erin thought she might have been dismissed, but when she turned away and headed for the stallion barn, Luke walked with her.
“So, are you going to tell your father about our visitor?” he asked her. “For the record, I think you should.”
Erin shook her head. “There’s no point
in it now. My dad has enough worries on his mind. The same goes for Sky. Whoever came around and left those tracks, they’ve probably moved on.”
Shadows deepened around them as they walked into the stallion barn. The horses nickered and stirred, wanting attention. Erin stopped by Tesoro’s box. At the sound of her voice, the palomino thrust his elegant head over the gate. Erin stroked his satiny golden neck, whispering little words of praise as her fingers freed a tangle in his mane. In a moment, she moved to greet the other two stallions. As she stroked and talked to them, she sensed Luke’s eyes on her. The awareness rippled over her skin, like a breeze over quiet water.
“Horses always make me feel peaceful,” she said as they turned to go back the way they’d come. “Do they make you feel that way, too?”
“I never gave much thought to that,” Luke said. “I like horses. But I spend so much time with them, they’re just part of my work.” He slowed his step, allowing her to keep pace with him. “You’re not limping. Your ankle must be better.”
“It is, as long as I don’t overdo.”
“Have you told anyone else about our visitor? Maybe your boyfriend?”
Her calm mood evaporated. “No. And he’s not my boyfriend. We broke up last night, for good this time.”
“I wondered when I saw you get out of that smashed-up SUV. Not that it’s any of my business, but I hope the breakup didn’t have anything to do with his seeing you and me together.”
“Of course it didn’t. I was the one who broke up with him. I didn’t love him and I wasn’t ready to get married. And when I told him that, he started driving like a maniac. If he’d hit that cow on the road, he could’ve gotten us both—” She broke off as the realization struck her. “You saw me come home? What were you doing, waiting up for me?”
He looked at her as if she were five years old. “I’m not your babysitter, Erin. I was having trouble falling asleep, so I went outside and sat on the porch. That’s it. I was hired to shoe horses, not be your nanny.”
