“Will you ask her for me?”
“You bet,” Rafe agreed.
Dub nodded, put the truck in gear, then sped off.
Rafe started the long walk back to the compound. Crickets chirped and in the distance a coyote gave a sharp cry. It was true, sometimes he did envy the other men their freedom. Probably most of the temporary hands who’d worked the roundup didn’t have the slightest idea where or when they’d work next. They wandered from ranch to ranch because they just had to see what was on the other side of the hill. Completely independent and sure of their specialized ability, they led lives that were totally unstructured. It was possible that none of them would ever work together for the same rancher at the same time again. They took their fun where they could find it and were willing to fight like wildcats at the drop of a misplaced word or look. For the most part they were good men and first-rate hands who loved their jobs and the land.
Their unfettered existence was almost the exact opposite of Rafe’s. He couldn’t hie off anytime he felt like it. His responsibilities and obligations to his relatives—past and present—wouldn’t let him.
At moments like this, though, his spirit longed to run with the pack. To answer the call of the coyote in the distant foothills with a wild cry of his own.
Yet he continued to walk past the workshops and storerooms, past the bunkhouse, until he came to the five-house family compound.
The area had changed little since the first Parkers had arrived to claim their place in history. The first primitive adobe house had evolved into something more sophisticated, and the family had grown, necessitating other additions.
Lights were on now in the main house, ready to chase away the rapidly falling dusk. She was probably being entertained by his Aunt Mae. Lights were also on in the other houses. Gib and Jodie were at home, as were Harriet and LeRoy and their brood, as well as Thomas and Darlene. The only house that was dark was his own.
His footsteps slowed. Things would have been different if he and Rosemary had married as they’d once planned. They might even have had a child by now. But would they have been happy, each settling for something just a little less than what they really wanted?
A form, low to the ground, emerged from the shadows and came toward him. Shep.
Rafe dropped to one knee. “All right, old boy,” he said gruffly as the dog reached him. “Did you get tired of waiting?” He ruffled the scraggly hair on the dog’s neck and rubbed his ears, Shep’s favorite human gesture.
As the pink tongue came out to lick his wrist, Rafe had to smile. He wasn’t as solitary as he’d thought. Shep had been with him for sixteen years, since Rafe himself was nineteen. They were old friends, the best of friends.
Rafe continued to rub the dog’s ears, then he stood up and Shep forgot for a moment that he was a dignified old man. He danced around Rafe’s legs, circling him and making noises deep in his throat, all the while wagging his ropelike tail.
Rafe laughed at his antics. “You ol’ bugger,” he said fondly. “Come on. Let’s go in. Let me get a shower and something cold to drink, then I’ll tell you all about the roundup.”
Shep scooted inside as soon as Rafe got the door open and even managed an approving “Woof!” before rushing over to sit on the rug at the side of Rafe’s favorite chair, there to look back at him, beseeching him to hurry.
Chapter Four
Two weeks went by with Shannon barely aware of their passage. She remembered bits and pieces of a few events, like the dinner Mae held early on to introduce her to the other Parkers, but she was extremely hazy about everything else. It was as if she’d existed bodily but not spiritually, her mind not engaged. She’d coasted through every hour, just waiting for it to be over. Mostly she’d kept to herself in her room.
As Mae had promised, no one disturbed her. No one tried to cheer her up or push her to move when she didn’t want to move. No one tried to sound bright and exuberant or to pretend that tomorrow would be better. And for that Shannon was grateful.
Then one afternoon as she was sitting in a high-backed rocker in what had fast become her accustomed spot—just inside the open doorway to the balcony—a warm breeze caressed her exposed skin and she experienced an almost forgotten yen. She wanted to feel the sun on her arms and legs and face.
She examined the pale flesh her shorts and T-shirt revealed. Only the puckered, still-red scar on her left shin gave any show of vividness. The doctors had done what they could with it and promised to do more. It would barely be noticeable in a few years, they’d said.
Shannon’s eyes slid away from the scar, and she pushed herself out of the rocker. Earlier she’d heard children playing in the courtyard, but that had been some time ago. They must have abandoned the area for another.
The house was quiet as she moved downstairs, surprised by how slowly she had to proceed. She’d been instructed to continue her exercises, but she hadn’t. Now she could see how much her mobility had diminished.
At the foot of the stairs she took a few deep breaths, then crossed to the front door. But before she could open it and go outside, Marie hurried into the foyer on her way from one room to another. When the housekeeper saw her, she jerked to a stop. “Oh!” she exclaimed.
“I was just...going outside,” Shannon explained almost guiltily. She felt as if she’d been caught sneaking out with Mae Parker’s finest silver.
“Oh!” Marie repeated, only this time the word ended on a shaky laugh. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Up till now Shannon had received no particular show of friendliness from the housekeeper. But a smile did marvelous things for the middle-aged woman’s face. She no longer seemed so remote and forbidding.
“If you’re looking for Miss Parker, you aren’t going to find her out there,” the housekeeper said. “She went to town and won’t be back for a while yet.”
“Town? Where?”
“Takes about an hour to get there. It’s not very big, just a courthouse, a few stores and the school.”
“Well, no. Actually, I was going for a walk.”
“You’re up to it?” the woman asked, her gaze narrowing as she made her own estimation.
“Just a small one,” Shannon admitted.
“Want someone to come with you?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” A defensive edge had crept into Shannon’s tone, and she lifted her chin.
“Sure you will,” Marie murmured, and didn’t say anything more as Shannon stepped across the threshold onto the porch, then carefully descended the two steps onto the short path that led to the drive. “There’s some lawn chairs out toward the middle,” the housekeeper offered as Shannon crossed the drive and continued into the courtyard. “Out under that biggest tree.”
“Thanks,” Shannon called in return, but she didn’t look back. Friendly or not, she wanted the woman to go about her business and leave her alone.
Her irritation increased as she felt the housekeeper’s eyes follow her. Yet a quick glance over her shoulder a moment later revealed that the woman was no longer there. She’d done exactly as Shannon had wanted.
A wry smile tugged at Shannon’s lips. As prickly as her personality had become recently, was it any wonder Marie had given her wide birth? That all the Parkers had? But to be left alone was what she wanted, she quickly reminded herself. At the get-acquainted dinner Mae had held she remembered someone talking to her, a warm and friendly woman who’d asked her to come for coffee, and she recalled her own vague off-putting reply. Rafe hadn’t been at the dinner, which made Mae angry, but which was a great relief for Shannon. Gib had been there, though, and so had Jodie. They’d both talked to her about...something. She couldn’t remember what.
She found the chairs Marie had mentioned, but both of them were in the shade. Living and working in hot open country must make a person value cover, but her need for the sun had grown into an almost desperate thirst.
She caught hold of the metal arm of one chair, dragged it to a sunlit spot and sat down. A
s she lifted her chin, the warmth radiated onto her neck and shoulders, onto her arms and the top of her thighs. Extending her arms in front of her, she stretched her fingers as far away from her body as she could, then did the same thing with her legs and feet, ignoring the slight twinge below her left knee. Her body soaked up the sunlight like precious nectar. The long days spent in the hospital and the rehab center slowly began to fade—
“Sun’s going to cook you if you’re not careful,” a male voice said. A familiar male voice.
Shannon’s eyes popped open and focused on the man standing next to her. Rafe Parker.
“Your skin’s so white it won’t take long,” he added.
Shannon flushed. An uncontrollable flush that made her turn red from her throat to her scalp. She was extremely conscious of her hospital pallor and of the fifteen or so pounds that had melted away, pounds she could ill afford to lose. For her, maintaining her weight had always been a chore. Her mother had taken her to numerous specialists throughout her childhood, only to be told that there was nothing wrong with her skinny daughter, that she was healthy and her condition normal. Still her mother had worried and Shannon had developed a slight defensiveness about her slender appearance, especially when puberty had done little to alter it.
“Isn’t that my business?” she retorted, sitting up. She dropped her feet to the ground and her arms to her sides, and she tried to will the flush away—she didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about!—but knew she would never be successful as long as he continued to look at her. She sent him a resentful glance.
He merely drawled, “I suppose so. Though I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes—or rather, skin—later on when the burn sets in.”
“I haven’t been out here long enough to burn. It’s been just—”
“You look like a boiled crab, lady.”
“Thank you!” she snapped, unsure if he was referring to her color or her attitude. She stood up, ready to leave, but he stopped her. His fingers were darkly tanned and felt very strong for the instant they had hold of her arm.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your siesta,” he murmured dryly. “But you should move your chair back into the shade. Would you like me to help?”
“I’d like you to mind your own business!”
“Everything that happens on this ranch is my business.”
“Well, I’m not!” Shannon replied.
“Oh, yeah?” he challenged softly.
Shannon squirmed inwardly. She knew exactly what he was referring to and wondered if he thought she was a party to his aunt’s machinations. His gaze swept over her, stopping on the livid scar, whereupon the amusement seemed to drain out of him. His only response, though, was to pick up her chair and move it back beside its companion.
“There,” he said. “Now you can rest safely.”
“I was doing that before you interrupted.”
He cocked a dark eyebrow. He was far better groomed today than he’d been the last time she’d seen him. Though his jeans and blue-and-green-plaid shirt were well-worn, they’d started out clean that morning, as had the body beneath them. He had abandoned the chaps and bandanna, but the beige hat was still firmly in place over his thick black hair. She tried not to recall the way he’d looked at her the first evening at the ranch when he’d caught her watching him from the balcony—that disturbing blend of past and present.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” he asked, pulling her away from her unwanted memory.
Her chin lifted. “No.”
He shrugged and glanced over at the main house. “Aunt Mae around?” he asked, his tone undergoing yet another change.
“Marie said she went into town.”
“Damn. I wanted her to pick something up for me.”
Shannon made no reply, and when the silence stretched almost to the point of painfulness, he gave a little dip of his head at the same time as he reached up to tip the front brim of his hat. Then he turned to walk away.
Shannon recognized the gesture for exactly what it was. Politeness. And it came from training, not liking or respect. He was merely giving her her due, as he would any female guest.
She refused to be concerned with him any longer. As Mae had said, let him think what he wanted. Only, he wasn’t all that easy to dismiss. His image seemed to linger—the handsome chiseled features beneath the brim of the hat, the dark eyes that seemed both to burn and dance as he smiled, the force of his personality.
She sat down in the chair, leaned her head back and closed her eyes again. She would empty her mind completely, concentrate on the feel of the breeze in her hair, absorb the indirect warmth of the sun, listen to the birds twittering in the trees. In all, reclaim the relaxed frame of mind she’d achieved before he appeared. Experience the same bliss.
“Shh!” she heard a young voice whisper a short few minutes later. “It’s okay. She’s asleep.”
“We shouldn’t be doin’ this, Wesley,” another young voice returned.
“It’s not gonna hurt nothing,” Wesley answered, coming closer.
Shannon stayed very still, unsure if she wanted to deal with any more Parkers, old or young.
“She’s so white!” the second voice exclaimed in a whisper.
Shannon could feel the children start to circle her.
“Look at that, Gwen!” Wesley said.
“What is it?” Gwen asked.
“A scar.”
“But it looks so... What are all those little dots? See?” Shannon could tell they’d stopped to inspect the injury more closely. “It looks like a railroad track, only with one track!”
“Shh!” Wesley cautioned because the little girl’s voice had begun to rise. “You’ll wake her up and then we’ll get into trouble.”
“I won’t! I’ll be quiet.”
They started to move again, silently continuing their investigation. Shannon was curious about them, too, but she held still, wondering what they would say next.
“She’s pretty,” the little girl breathed. “Just like Mama said.”
Wesley dismissed the observation with a sound of disgust.
“Well, she is!”
“Be quiet, Gwen!”
Immediately after admonishing her, Wesley tripped over Shannon’s foot, grunting as he sprawled on the ground. Gwen gave a horrified gasp.
Shannon could no longer pretend to be asleep. She sat up just as the little girl hurried to help her companion.
“See! I told you to be quiet!” Wesley scolded as he struggled to right himself on his own. Wesley looked to be about six, and with his dark hair and eyes was obviously a Parker.
“You did it!” Gwen defended herself. “You hit her foot and fell down!” Gwen was possibly a year younger, with the same dark hair but with huge wide-spaced gray eyes.
“Hello,” Shannon said, breaking into the argument.
Both children looked at her, blinked, then started to run.
“No, wait!” Shannon called after them.
Her command halted their flight. They turned to look at her, trepidation marking their youthful faces.
“Come here...please,” she urged them.
They hesitated, then approached her slowly, Gwen slightly behind Wesley.
Shannon smiled. “I wasn’t asleep,” she informed them once they’d come to a halt in front of her. “I heard every word.”
The children glanced at each other, then back at her. “We aren’t supposed to bother you,” Wesley said.
“Mama said you need to rest,” Gwen added. “That you were in an accident and you were hurt real bad. Is that where you were hurt bad? That funny-lookin’ scar on your leg?”
“Gwen...” Wesley said warningly.
“You wanna know, too,” Gwen snipped. “You just won’t ask, that’s all.”
“Because that’s what not botherin’ her means. Not askin’ her questions!”
Gwen had opened her mouth to continue the argument when Shannon lifted a hand to stop her.
“We’
re also supposed to apologize,” Gwen said, moving to another subject, “for eating all the chocolate cookies. Aunt Mae said she had to disappoint you.” The little girl frowned. “But if you didn’t have any chocolate cookies, how did you know they’re so good? They’re our favorite. Wesley’s and mine. He’s Wesley,” she said pointing. “He’s my brother.”
“She’s Gwen,” Wesley contributed.
“My name is Shannon,” Shannon said.
“We know. Shannon Brad...Brad...” Wesley had trouble with her last name.
“Bradley!” Gwen supplied.
A voice called sharply from the distance, “Wesley! Gwen!”
The children’s heads snapped around to look toward the house farthest away on the right from the big stone house. A woman was hurrying out the door and down the walk to the drive, then onto the grass of the courtyard. “What did I tell you two?” she demanded once she’d reached them. “Did I tell you to bother her or did I tell you to stay away? Now, off you go, both of you. Straight home and to your rooms. Don’t turn on the television, and no games. I want you in your chairs facing the wall, and not a sound out of either one of you. Understand?”
Buxom was the best word to describe the woman. She was also tall and strong-looking, and seemed to radiate good health and energy. Her chestnut hair was short and vibrant, cut in a style that complemented her features. She glanced apologetically at Shannon, and Shannon saw that she had the same wide-spaced gray eyes as her daughter.
“Aw, Mom!” Wesley protested.
“We didn’t mean to wake her up,” Gwen offered.
“We apologized,” Wesley said. “We told her we were sorry for eating the cookies.”
With her hands on her hips, their mother was a formidable force. “Sounds to me as if you owe her another one.”
“We’re sorry for waking you up,” the children said in unison.
Shannon struggled to her feet. “It’s all right. Really. I wasn’t asleep. I didn’t mind.”
“They had their instructions and they disobeyed,” said their mother. “They know they have to pay a price. Now off to your rooms, you two. I’ll be in to see you in a few minutes.”
West Texas Match (The West Texans Series #1) Page 5
