by Janet Dailey
Her gaze went no higher than his mouth, its strong, firm line coming toward her. She was shaken by a fervent need to know the forgetfulness of his embrace, the heady wildness his kiss could bring. She didn’t wait for his lips to complete their descent to claim hers. Instead, she flung herself into his arms, the bouquet slipping from her hands as they wound around the thick column of his neck. Her mouth moved hungrily and desperately over his.
She was seeking and demanding, driving against him with her lips and her body. There was heat. There was fire. There was the wild tingling in her loins. But she didn’t find the needed assuagement for that niggling feeling of duplicity. The steel band of his arms and the fierce pressure of his roaming hands tried to absorb her into his body, but the physical impossibility of such a feat soon made itself known. Slowly, crying inside, she turned her face away from him and pushed at his shoulders.
“The flowers. I dropped the flowers.” She used them as an excuse to end an embrace that fulfilled every physical and emotional need except one.
Chase was reluctant to let her go because he sensed that he had somehow failed her. He mouthed the sensitive spot on the curve of her neck, knowing how the caress always aroused her and feeling the subsequent shivers of stimulation, but she continued to resist him. Confused by her conflicting signals, he loosened his hold and she quickly moved out of his arms, bending to pick up the scattered flowers. When she straightened, her back was to him. His hands moved to rub the soft points of her shoulders.
“I’ve missed being with you, Maggie.” His voice was husky with meaning. “I’ve missed you.”
“I know.” Her head was bent, her expression hidden from him. “I missed you, too.” But the tone of her voice sounded deliberately light. In the next second, she was walking away from his hands. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”
A frown plowed a furrow between his brows as he watched her walk to an outcropping of rock and sink to the ground to rest against it. He followed her after a few seconds, his keen gaze studying her smooth, expressionless features. He stopped near her feet, towering above her.
“What’s bothering you, Maggie?”
“Nothing,” she insisted, then looked up at him with a certain thoughtfulness. “You want to make love to me, don’t you?”
This candor wasn’t what he had expected, not that she wasn’t usually direct in her statements. He could scarcely deny her question, but he guessed it wasn’t sex that she wanted from him.
“Yes, I want to make love to you.” He lowered himself to the ground beside her. “But not if it isn’t what you want me to do.” With his back against the same rock, he hooked an arm behind her waist and started to pull her toward him. “Come here.”
“No, I don’t think I want—”
“I know you don’t.” Chase guessed what she was going to say. “And I’m not going to try to persuade you to change your mind and let me love you. All I want to do is hold you. Okay?”
She searched his face for an instant, then let him turn her sideways to lie across his chest. Chase took off her hat so her head could rest against his shoulder and smoothed the tangle of long, black curls. A hand was doubled near her mouth while the other rested lightly on his chest. He could feel the tension in her body and held her loosely, one hand resting on her hipbone and the other cupping her rib cage below the swell of her breast.
He made no attempt at conversation, simply holding her in his arms. The sun was warm and a light breeze rustled the grass. Gradually, he felt her relax against him like a slowly uncoiling spring. A quiet contentment seemed to claim both of them. Chase had no idea how long he held her like that; five minutes or twenty. His muscles were starting to cramp; soon they would be numb if he didn’t move. He shifted slightly, tucking his chin into his chest to look at her. Her eyes were closed, long curling lashes lying together.
“Are you sleeping?” he murmured.
“Uh—” It was a negative sound. “Thinking.”
“About what?” A strand of black hair laid across her cheek and Chase gently pushed it back with the others.
She smiled, almost sadly. “I don’t think you would understand.”
“Try me.”
“I was thinking”—her eyes opened slowly as she shifted in his hold so that she was lying with both shoulders against his chest and facing the open sky—“that I won’t always be cooking and cleaning and mending worn-out clothes for my father and brother. When I finish school, I’m leaving the ranch. I’ll get a job somewhere and have a place of my own … and new clothes. People won’t look at me and click their tongues, saying the poor girl doesn’t have a decent thing to wear.” She mimicked the words with bitter pride. “I’m going to work and make something of myself. And my hands won’t have callouses. They’ll be smooth, like a lady’s.” She paused to look at her hands. “I suppose that sounds silly to you.”
“No, it doesn’t sound silly.” Chase smiled against her hair, breathing in the freshly washed smell of it. “Those are the kind of dreams about the future just about everybody has.” He hadn’t because his future had been all mapped out for him since the day of his birth—taking over the Triple C Ranch. A man couldn’t dream much bigger than that. “They rarely come to anything, though. You’ll probably marry some cowboy and have three kids before you’re twenty.”
The words twisted inside him like a sharp knife at the image of Maggie in another man’s arms and her belly swollen with someone else’s child. This violent feeling of jealousy took him by surprise. He was distracted from the discovery when Maggie twisted angrily out of his arms and bounded to her feet, her green eyes blazing.
“I won’t!” She stormed in an unbridled fury that rolled Chase to his feet. “I won’t marry some two-bit cowboy and live like this the rest of my life! I won’t be like my mother, existing on dreams and broken promises! I won’t! Do you hear me?!!” Her clenched fists pounded at his chest to drive home her words. “I’m going to be somebody! And no one can stop me! I won’t let them!”
“Hey, I believe you.” Chase caught at her hands, amazed by her vehemence. His smile was one of admiration and respect. But Maggie caught the laughing inflection in his voice and glared at him, daring him to laugh at her. “I believe you, Maggie,” Chase repeated, this time without it. “As a matter of fact,” he added wryly, “I feel sorry for anyone who tries to stand in the way of what you want.”
Her anger died, but the determination remained. “I’m not like my father, Chase. I’m not like him at all. And I’m not weak and passive like my mother.”
“I’m convinced there isn’t anybody like you,” he declared and let go of her hands to tunnel his fingers under her hair. Bending his head, he kissed her mouth. With persuasive pressure, he coaxed it open while his hand cupped the thrusting point of her breast in his palm.
After that it seemed a natural progression of events that found them on the ground again, the barrier of their clothes being dismantled with consummate ease. They stroked, caressed, demanded, and aroused each other, then coupled in a passionate union that left no shadows between them, mental or otherwise.
It was harder this time for Chase to leave her, and he couldn’t say why. He insisted on riding with her partway. There was a place where he could cut across the sections that would intercept his original route.
“Won’t anybody ask where you are?” Maggie wondered as she walked her horse through the grass beside his.
“They might, but Buck will cover for me,” he assured her. “We’re moving a herd from the adjoining range here onto the Broken Butte.”
“Why?” The comment aroused an idle curiosity. At this time of year, the summer pasture was usually established for a herd.
“To get them away from the main road, where it would be too easy for the rustlers to reach them,” he replied.
“Oh.” She looked straight ahead, realizing she had artlessly garnered an important piece of information. She caught her nether lip between her teeth, her mouth dry. “Do you have any idea
who is stealing your cattle?”
“No. If we did, we’d stop them. But they won’t find that it’s easy pickings anymore,” he stated confidently.
“Because you’re moving the cattle,” Maggie concluded. A sense of guilt made her try to have the O’Rourkes look innocent. “Maybe I should mention something to Pa about moving our herd in case they decide to leave you alone and hit us.”
“It might be a smart thing to do. With rustlers working in the area, you should take some precautions,” Chase advised.
“You’re right,” she agreed and hoped he didn’t detect the nervous tremor in her voice.
Most of the wildflowers wilted during the long ride home. Maggie put the few fresh ones in a bud vase and set them on the table. Her father noticed them as soon as he sat down for the evening meal. He eyed her curiously when she passed him the platter of meat.
“What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion,” she responded in a cool, composed voice. She wasn’t about to tell him that they were the first flowers any man had given her, not when it was Chase Calder. “I thought they would look nice.”
“You were with him today,” her father guessed.
Maggie knew she hadn’t given anything away, yet she could see the knowledge in her father’s eyes every time after she’d come back from meeting Chase. What was different about the way she looked after she’d been with Chase?
“Yes.”
“What did you say to him?” He passed the meat to Culley.
“Nothing.”
Satisfaction curved his mouth. “Did he have anything to say about the cattle that’s been stolen?”
“Only that they don’t know who is doing it,” she admitted and helped herself to the potatoes.
He laughed with exultant glee. “Didn’t I tell you!”
“Pa, it isn’t going to be so easy from now on,” Maggie protested. “They’re moving the herds.”
He sobered to dart her a sharp look. “Where?”
“I don’t know. Chase only mentioned that they were switching one of the herds to the Broken Butte range, away from the main roads,” she informed him with a worried frown. “It’s going to be too risky for you to try anything.”
But he wasn’t listening to her. Instead, his attention was on Culley. “Maybe you and me should go into town for a drink tonight. Tucker can join us after he closes up. We might want to rearrange our plans some. I seem to recall a back road that isn’t used anymore. It goes right by the Broken Butte.”
Her brother’s eyes glistened a devil-green. “It sure would be nice if we hit a herd they thought was safe, wouldn’t it?”
“It sure would.” Her father grinned.
Maggie stared at the pair of them. “You’re crazy! Both of you! I don’t know why I should care whether you get caught or not!” But she cared because they were her family. Blood ties weren’t severed by the right or wrong of a thing.
A dozen men were gathered around the massive desk in the den, their attention centered on Webb Calder, standing in front of the large map on the wall. Chase sat with one hip on the corner of the desk, bending his head to light the thin cheroot in his mouth with a match flame.
“Starting tonight, we’re going to patrol every road on this ranch,” Webb announced. “That means every main road, back road, and side road. We’ve divided the ranch into eight sectors and worked out a loop that will cover every road.” He assigned a sector to a man and outlined the individual route for each one. When he was satisfied the routes were clear, he continued with the general instructions. “I want those pickups moving constantly, no stopping for a short snooze—only to gas up. When I say no stopping, that’s what I mean. If you think you’ll have to relieve yourself, then take along a can. And vary your pattern—counterclockwise one time, clockwise the next. I don’t want any semi to be able to predict when you’ll pass a given spot and slip in and out while you’re gone. Is that understood?”
There was a silent bobbing of heads. Someone from the back of the circle asked, “What happens when we see something? What are we supposed to do?”
“I sure as hell hope you don’t go up and kiss them,” Webb declared with a half-grin which brought a round of subdued laughter.
“I guess what I meant was how do we let the others know?” The question was clarified.
“Unfortunately, we aren’t equipped with radios, although that might come in time,” Webb stated. “Bill—Bill Vernon”—he identified the warehouse manager-bookkeeper by his full name—“has already made certain that every one of the trucks has a flare gun in it. If you see anything suspicious, fire it in the air. The rest of us will come.”
“And in the meantime?” a different cowboy asked.
“In the meantime … you all have rifles.” Webb glanced around the half-circle of men. “Stop at the commissary before you head out and Bill Vernon will see that you have a supply of ammunition. Do whatever you have to in order to keep them there until you get some support.”
“You mean shoot out the tires?”
“If that’s all you have the guts to aim at,” Webb retorted and fixed the man who asked the question with a hard stare. Then his gaze swept the rest of them. “Any more questions?”
They looked at one another, the silence stretching. Chase studied their faces. All of them were serious, yet there was a certain glitter in their eyes. It burned through them like contagious fever, because here was something outside of the normal routine of work—something that held an element of danger and excitement, a thing every red-blooded cowboy thrived on.
“All right. Those of you assigned a patrol, get started,” Webb ordered. “You others will stay here with Nate, Virg, and the rest of us,” he said, including Chase with a glance. A wry smile slanted his mouth. “We’re going to be the cavalry, arriving in the nick of time.”
With a curt nod, he dismissed them. Chase stayed while the others wandered en masse from the room, talking low among themselves, but there was no trace of disapproval or dissension in their voices. Chase glanced at his father, who had taken a seat behind the desk.
“Do you think it will work?”
Webb raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Between moving the cattle and the patrols, it should. Thieves are basically a lazy lot. They help themselves to whatever is laying around. If it’s risky or hard to get at, they tend to move on to something that’s easier. They’re allergic to work or they wouldn’t be stealing. It’s my guess they’ll drift to a climate where it isn’t so hot for them.”
“I hope you’re right.” Chase straightened from the desk.
“So do I. We can’t afford to keep losing beef,” he replied grimly.
Chapter X
Afterward, it will be as easy as pie,” her father insisted while Maggie continued to stare at him incredulously, unable to believe what he was asking her. “We’ll load the horses up in the horse trailer and take off one way. The semi will head in the other direction with the beef.”
“You can’t expect me to agree with this when you know how I feel,” she protested.
“The Broken Butte is rough country,” he reminded her. “The cattle will be scattered along the base of the butte. It’ll take some time bunching them together unless we have a third rider to help. If you come with us, we can get in and get out in a hurry. If you don’t, Culley and I could be there too long.”
“Then don’t go,” Maggie argued. “Or make Tucker ride with you and earn the cut he’s taking.”
“He can’t. He has to ride with the driver to show him where to meet us to pick up the cattle,” he explained. “It isn’t easy to find where you’re supposed to be going when you’re driving without lights. No, Tucker has to be with the semi so we can keep to the time schedule. Are you coming or not?” Her father paused, then added, “If you don’t, we’re going to take our chances without you.”
She could see the reckless determination in his face, and in Culley’s, too. She half-turned from them, rubbing her arms in agitation and unc
ertainty.
“There’s nothing to it,” Culley assured her. “You just bunch up some cattle and drive them into the truck. I was nervous the first time, too, but it’s easy, Maggie. Honest.”
She wanted to laugh at that, but she couldn’t. “When?” She glanced at her father.
“Tonight,” he stated, and Maggie stiffened because she wasn’t being given a chance to think it over. “We’ll leave here around two A.M., which gives us time to have a couple of hours of sleep before we have to pull out.”
“That isn’t fair, Pa.” She was angry with him. “You deliberately waited until the last minute before asking me to come with you.”
“You’re just like any female. If I would have asked you sooner, you would have fretted and stewed over it. Your imagination would have run away with you,” he reasoned.
“I won’t go! There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind! Ever!” She stalked from the room, refusing to be maneuvered into doing something she knew to be wrong. She was angry because she was afraid—afraid for her brother. Because of Chase, she couldn’t share her father’s unreasoning hatred for the Calders, but it didn’t lessen her fear for the safety of her family. Maggie raced to her bedroom.
There was a knock at her bedroom door and Maggie turned around to face it. Still raw with temper, she guessed it had to be her brother. Her father wasn’t likely to come around to calm her down or attempt to make amends for his action, not when she had rebelled against his authority.
“Come in.” The permission was abrupt and unwelcoming as she turned her back on the door.
It opened. “It’s me—Culley.” He entered the small, low-ceilinged room, an addition slapped onto the existing side of the house.
There was barely enough room for a single bed and dresser and the space to walk between them. One wall still consisted of the exterior siding. He came up behind her and hesitated. “Don’t be upset about tonight, Maggie. You don’t have to be scared for us. Nothing is going to happen.”
“I’m angry. I’m mad. I’m upset. But I’m scared, too. What you’re doing is stupid. You’ll be caught.”
