Cowboys Don't Quit

by Anne McAllister

  And while he was there he had a few things to say to Jimmy. There was no point in talking to Annette.

  She'd had a crush on him since she was seven. He reckoned it was his good fortune—and hers—that she'd outgrown it enough so that when Jimmy Kline got old enough to ask her to marry him, she agreed instead of waiting for Luke.

  She'd have waited forever before he got around to asking; probably she knew it.

  When he reached the ranch house, he found Jimmy in the barn. The younger man looked up and grinned nervously. "You ain't mad, are you?"

  "Whatever gave you that idea?" Luke's studied mildness made Jimmy wince.

  He raked a hand through his thatch of red hair. "I told Annette we didn't have no business lettin' Jill stay here. I said it was up to you, it bein' your ranch an' all. But she'd already told Jill she could 'cause she was a friend of yours. Figured you'd be glad, she said. I guess you ain't." He'd figured out that much, at least.

  Luke shrugged. He could think of several pithy things to say, all of which would be in vain. Jimmy understood—or thought he did. And Annette never would.

  "Don't matter," he said now.

  "It ain't entirely Annette's fault," Jimmy confessed after a moment. "I kinda liked the idea of havin' her here right now, too. Y'know, Annette's gettin' pretty big. She's due this month. And she was almost a month early when she had Jimmy."

  Luke hadn't been there when eighteen-month-old Jimmy, Jr. was born, so he didn't remember that. But he could attest to the truth of Jimmy's earlier statement. Last time he'd seen Annette, she'd looked like a barn moving sideways.

  It would be better to have someone on hand to take her to the hospital, in case Annette went into labor while Jimmy was out on the range. Even if that someone was Jill Crane.

  "I see what you mean," he said. Jimmy looked enormously relieved. "I'll take care of your horse," he offered. "Jill in the house?"

  "Ready and waitin'. We'll keep outta your way." Luke would have rather had them in his way, but he didn't say so. He left the horse for Jimmy to deal with and headed toward the house.

  Annette had the door open the minute his boot hit the first step. "Luke!" She practically grabbed his arm to draw him in. "You came! I was really scared you'd be mad at me 'cause you're so—so kind of touchy... about...well, you know what about. But I guess you really want to talk to Jill, huh?"

  Under the barrage of her enthusiasm, Luke didn't reply. Over Annette's shoulder he saw Jill sitting on the sofa, giving Jimmy, Jr. a bottle. She looked up when he came into the room. "He's almost asleep. I'm sorry. Do you mind waiting?"

  He shook his head, mute, his gaze caught by the sight of her with the baby in her arms. He'd never thought about Jill with children before. She looked right at home. He jerked his hat off and crushed the brim in his fingers. "Sit down," Annette said. "Sit down." Then she giggled and put her hand over her mouth. "Gosh, I'm dumb, tellin' you to sit down in your own house."

  A tiny frown appeared on Jill's face, and he guessed that answered his question about whether or not she knew who owned the ranch Well, if it made her uncomfortable, too bad He hadn't invited her, and maybe she's leave all that much sooner.

  He said nothing, just sat down, balancing the hat on his thighs.

  Annette waddled between him and Jill. "Can I bring you some coffee? And brownies? I made brownies to day And I got some butterscotch bars left, too I made those Tuesday Would you rather have those?"

  "No, thanks I ate on the way down."

  "Oh, but—"

  "I'm fine," he said firmly.

  Jill stood up, smiling at the child in her arms, then looked over at Annette "He's asleep," she said softly "I'll just go put him in his crib."

  "I don't know what I'd be doin' without her," Annette said to Luke as Jill earned the small, limp body of her son up the stairs to the bedroom. "I can't hardly carry him anymore 'cause of this watermelon here. "She giggled and patted her stomach "Jill's doin' everything."

  Luke nodded absently. He wasn't looking at Annette's stomach, he was looking at the stairs. Though Jill had already disappeared into the bedroom, he could still see her as she'd looked carrying the little boy up them. She'd looked so natural. Hell, she'd have probably had one of her own by now, if only.

  He let out a harsh exhalation of breath.

  "Somethin' the matter?" Annette asked worriedly.

  Luke shook his head. But he was almost grateful when, a moment later, Jill returned. She was carrying with her a loose-leaf notebook, a pen and a small tape recorder. "Where do you want to work?"

  Luke glanced at Annette.

  "I'll be quiet as a mouse," she promised.

  Jill smiled at the younger woman "I don't think that will work very well," she said apologetically "Having someone listening tends to make the person I'm talking with uncomfortable."

  "Not me," Luke said No matter what Annette said about being quiet, he knew it was impossible And the more she talked, the less he'd have to.

  "And it makes me a little uncomfortable, too," Jill went on smoothly. "So I think we'll go for a walk."

  "Oh," Annette said, crestfallen.

  "Oh," said Luke. Hell.

  Jill pulled on a sweater and went to the door, then looked back at him. Reluctantly, he followed her.

  "Maybe you'll have a brownie when you get back?" Annette called after him.

  Luke grunted a noncommittal response and shut the door.

  "She's very fond of you," Jill said as they stepped off the porch.

  "She used to be my sister-in-law."

  Jill gaped. She dropped her pen and had to scramble for it. He reached down to get it for her and nearly bumped heads with her.

  "I didn't realize you were ever married," she said.

  "I wasn't. My older brother was married to her sister when they were little more than kids. It didn't work out," he added after a moment.

  Another disaster that could be laid at his door. If he hadn't been such a damned hothead after his old man died, lashing out at an unfair world and carrying a chip the size of the whole damned state of Colorado on his shoulder, always getting into trouble and expecting his brother to bail him out, Tanner might have been home the night that Clare had needed him, the night their son was born—and died.

  He sighed and tugged his hat down.

  "I'm sorry," Jill said gently.

  Luke shrugged "They're both doin' all right now."

  That was his only consolation—knowing that, though the youthful marriage had collapsed after less than a year, Clare had now been happily married for nearly twelve years to a local doctor, and Tanner had finally met and married the right woman for him.

  Luke didn't know much about his new sister-in-law, Maggie, but she sure seemed to have made a difference in his brother's life.

  "Old Sobersides," Luke had called his older brother, Robert, whom all the world but Maggie called Tanner. And the Old Sobersides appellation had come only if Luke was feeling charitable.

  Usually he'd just called Tanner "The Grouch "

  But Tanner wasn't grouchy these days Ever since the wedding, he'd been smiling And his smile had been especially broad in the last photo Maggie had sent Luke—one in which Tanner was holding their new son, Jared.

  And damned if that thought didn't bring him right back to babies.

  "Let's get on with this," he said harshly. "I haven't got all night."

  "Is there a place we can go and sit down so I can write, or do you want me to tape while we walk and talk?"

  Luke shrugged "Doesn't matter You're the biographer, not me." But he was shifting from one foot to the other as he said it, and apparently Jill noticed.

  "We'll tape," she said "And walk" She left the notebook sitting by the gate and turned on the tape recorder It was tiny enough that she could hold it in her palm.

  Luke looked at it warily. "That what you used on Keith?"

  "A similar one, yes But I took notes, too, because we were just sitting talking."

  "For t
hree weeks?"

  She flushed "At the interview The three weeks was vacation."

  "Right I forgot."

  Damn, what was he doing? He didn't care what they'd been doing down in the Caribbean It wasn't any of his business He needed to get out of here before he said something else stupid "First question?" he prompted "Why don't you tell me about how you two met?" "That isn't a question."

  "It's a request."

  "You know all that," he protested.

  "Not really I know you were a cowboy around here and he met you when he was doing a movie I don't know exactly how it happened."

  No, probably she didn't There was no reason why Keith would have told her It hadn't changed anything much—at the time, anyway—for Keith It had changed Luke's whole life.

  "I was workin' at Mike Sutter's spread across the valley," he said reluctantly, "and Keith's bunch was there making Renegade's Moon "

  "So it was almost seven years ago?"

  "Yeah They were shooting a scene, and one of their cameramen was wavin' his arms around, and he spooked some cattle I headed 'em off and turned 'em before they ran the damn fool down."

  "He must have been grateful."

  "I guess. Babbled all over me. Heck, what was I supposed to do, let 'em trample him? It turned out Carl was watching and he needed somebody to do the same thing in the movie. So he asked me."

  "And that's when you were hired?"

  Luke shook his head. "I told him I already had a job."

  He could still remember Carl looking at him dumbfounded when he'd said that. "He sorta drew himself up and tried to loom over me, asking, 'And you'd rather herd cows than work in the movies?' I said, 'Well, it's my job. I can't just leave my boss in the lurch,' and he said, 'And who is this boss who inspires such undying loyalty?' So I told him, and he went to Mike and told him to fire me."

  "You're kidding."

  "Nope. You know Carl. He doesn't believe in no. Mike said the hell he would. But then Carl explained what he wanted and Mike said it was all right with him, so I did it."

  "Were you scared?"

  "I didn't know what to expect. Turned out it wasn't any big deal, really. Hell, I did it damn near every day of the week. But afterward they were all runnin' around slappin' me on the back and saying, 'You're some horse backin' fool! Man, how'd you learn to do that?'"

  "How did you?"

  Luke shrugged. "Grew up doin' it. My old man was a cowboy. My brothers are cowboys."

  "I don't know anything about your family," Jill said, considering him thoughtfully. "Do you realize you've never even mentioned them to me? Do your brothers work around here?"

  "No." He didn't want to talk about them, or about anything else that was personal. "I thought we were talkin' about Keith."

  "And we can't discuss anything else?"

  "I didn't come down here to talk about anything else."

  She gave a small snort of impatience, then shrugged. "Fine. So, you had your one day of glory. Did you meet Keith then?"

  "Nope. Did that the next day. Carl asked me to come back. He wondered if I could fall off."

  "He wanted you to fall off a horse?"

  Luke nodded. "He said, 'We'll pay you $400.' I thought he was nuts. 'Four hundred dollars?' I said. Hell, first time anybody ever offered to pay me for what I'd been doin' for nothin' for years!" He couldn't help grinning at the memory of his own astonishment.

  "So I said sure, why not? Next day, when I showed up, Brent Hubbard—you know Brent, one of the stunt-men?" He looked at her and when she nodded, he continued, "Well, he asked me if I wanted some pads. I didn't know what he meant. 'Pads?' I asked him, 'What for?' 'Hip, knee, wrist, elbow, tailbone,' he said, and looked at me like I ought to know what he was talking about. But I didn't, and when I just stared at him, he told me to take down my pants."

  Jill's eyes widened, and Luke flushed, realizing that she'd think he was an idiot for sure if he told her what he'd thought at first when Brent had said that!

  "Anyway," he hurried on, "I found out what pads were when they put 'em on me. And I wore 'em while I did the riding and the falling. I was done before noon and I figured I'd better get movin' or Mike was gonna think I'd gone and quit on him. But Carl called me over and that's when I met Keith."

  He could remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday.

  "I recognized him," Luke admitted, "but it was like meetin' somebody whose name you've forgotten. I was saying, 'Hey, how are ya?' like I knew him because his face was familiar, but I didn't have a clue who he was."

  Jill smiled. "Did he know that?"

  "Of course. Later, he used to tell me he'd rescued me from a life of cultural ignorance." Luke grinned at the memory, and Jill grinned, too.

  "Anyhow," he said abruptly, turning his head away from that grin, "that's how I met Keith. Carl thought I resembled him, and he wanted Keith to see what he thought. He should've known better. Keith didn't care how much I looked like him or didn't. He just wanted me to teach him everything crazy I knew how to do."

  "I'll bet he did," Jill said softly.

  Their eyes met again, and hers had the same gentle, wistful expression that Luke remembered seeing sometimes when he'd caught her watching Keith. The same slightly dazed look he'd seen in them the moment he'd kissed her, before she'd realized what they were doing.

  His jaw tightened. He jerked his eyes away and started walking again rapidly. "I did his stunt work for the rest of the movie. Then he asked me to go back to California with him to work on his next one. And I figured, why the hell not? So I went."

  "Was it a big change?"

  He frowned. "From cowboying? Hell, yes. Cowboy-ing, I did whatever needed to be done. Saw it and did it. Out there I always had somebody figurin' out what I was supposed to be doing. How fast I was supposed to be going. Which way to turn my head so's I'd look pretty for a camera. Or so's Keith would look pretty," he corrected. His gaze narrowed again at a sudden realization. "How come we're talkin' about me again, not Keith?"

  "We're talking about both of you," Jill said patiently. "About the relationship between you. Relationships are complex."

  "Not ours. It was simple. Keith Mallory was my friend. The best damn friend I ever had." He looked at her bleakly. "And I as good as killed him."

  Jill's fingers clutched his arm hard through his thin cotton shirt. "Stop saying that. It isn't true."

  "Isn't it?" He gave a harsh laugh. "Well, I guess that's debatable," he said bitterly, staring off into the distance. Then his gaze shifted and came back to meet hers. He swallowed. "But you can't tell me that once I—we—didn't betray him."

  Three

  "I know."

  Luke didn't know what he'd been hoping. Maybe that she'd deny it, tell him he was wrong, that he'd been imagining things, thinking things that weren't true and never had been.

  She didn't. She met his gaze squarely, her gray eyes dark now, yet oddly luminous and shining with moisture. Tears? Ah, God, no. He looked at her, anguished.

  "You didn't want me to agree with you?" she asked him softly.

  He kicked at a stone in the field. "No, damn it, I didn't."

  "But it's true." She stared out across the valley There was a small cluster of lights where Bluff Spring was and dotted across the far side of the valley were the isolated lights of ranch houses.

  "It shouldn't have been," he said hollowly.

  "No."

  He toed a clump of grass this time. "You should've stopped me."

  "Yes."

  "Why didn't you?"

  She shook her head. In the deepening twilight he could make out a tear as it trickled down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. She just stared resolutely out across the valley. "I don't know," she said.

  "You didn't even like me."

  "I tried. When did you ever give me any reason to? From the day I showed up, you acted like I was contaminated or something."

  "I never—"

  "You were sarcastic and gruff, and every time I walked into the r
oom, you left."

  How could he explain what he'd felt from the first moment he'd seen her? How could he possibly tell her that just being around her made him feel awkward and unpolished, like the dumb, tongue-tied cowboy he was?

  And the fact that Keith was clearly different when he was with her, calmer and more focused—a gentleman, for God's sake—didn't help matters, either.

  "I never disliked you," he insisted. "I just— Hell, I kissed you, didn't I?"

  "But why? Why did you?"

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "You were there."

  "And Keith wasn't."

  "No, that's not why, damn it! I wasn't doing it to try to beat out Keith!"

  "Then why?"

  He jerked off his hat and robbed a hand through his hair, then shook his head. He couldn't begin to explain the combination of frustration and anger and hunger that had been building in him for so long. He knew better, damn it. He just—just...

  "Because you were horny, honey?" she said lightly, mocking the words he'd said to her the day before.

  Luke scowled and jammed his hat back on his head. "Yeah," he muttered. "I probably was."

  "And I was handy."

  His jaw tightened. He nodded curtly.

  "Any woman would have done?"

  "That's right." The look he gave her dared her to argue.

  She didn't, and somehow that annoyed him even further.

  "So, what was your excuse?" he demanded. "Why did you respond? You did, you know," he added, in case she wanted to deny it.

  She didn't answer immediately. She seemed to be actually considering the question. Then she shook her head, a bewildered look on her face. "I'm not sure."

  "You're not sure?" he said sarcastically.

  "I don't know."

  He turned away. "Well, when you figure it out, let me know."

  "I will."

  He shook his head. "You know, you are really a piece of work, lady."

  "An observation not to be taken as a compliment?"

  He turned and caught a wry smile on her mouth. That almost-smile did something to his insides, brought back the very same feeling that had welled up within him that afternoon when he had succumbed to frustration, to temptation—to her.