“Not them, either,” she returned levelly. She would not rise to his bait.
Rafe tied both horses’ reins to a handy post while Shannon examined the hoofprints near the two-foot-tall metal tank.
“This is a popular place,” she observed.
“Anywhere there’s water is popular out here.”
Shannon saw some prints that looked like a dog’s, then other sets of smaller ones that looked like long exclamation points.
“Those are coyote,” Rafe said, pointing to the first prints. “These others are rabbit.”
Nearby were a jumble of bird tracks. “Birds come here, too,” she remarked.
“Everything,” Rafe confirmed.
As Shannon continued walking around the trough, she saw a spot of ground where the dirt was still wet and several birds stood drinking from a puddle. As she approached, the birds flew off. Above her head the old-fashioned windmill turned gently, its mechanical works emitting a soft metallic “ping” every ten or twenty seconds.
Rafe, who’d accompanied her, patted the derrick’s frame. “This is an old campaigner,” he said. “Been here about sixty years and rarely gives us trouble. Just keeps pumping away.”
“It gets regular maintenance?”
Rafe nodded. “Most of the work on a ranch isn’t glamorous. We have over two hundred miles of fence to keep up, cows to doctor, gates, corrals, windmills to see to. All routine stuff, but it keeps us busy.”
“Why do you do it?” Shannon asked, remembering what Harriet had said about Mae’s fears that he might one day decide to leave.
“Somebody has to.”
Shannon looked up at him. “No, seriously. Why do you do it?”
His dark gaze settled on a trio of slowly advancing Herefords, on their way to quench their thirst. After a moment, he said, “Because I love it.”
And Shannon realized that in all her life she’d never heard truer words spoken.
Chapter Eleven
Rafe Parker’s love for the land and everything on it needed no clarification. He was a part of it, just as it was a part of him. Shannon had never met anyone more attuned to what he did in life. The blood of the West Texas ranch country must run through his veins.
In the past she’d thought she’d seen the same dedication in some of the politicians she’d known, but there was a difference between giving one’s self to a life work and having your life be that work because generations of your family had passed it on to you in your genes.
The trait touched all the Parkers, even if it burned stronger in some than in others.
Shannon strolled over to a patch of weeds growing up through a discarded pile of fence posts. The posts were old, weathered. This would be a perfect opportunity for her to bring up the subject of Jodie and Rio, as Jodie wished, but she just couldn’t make herself do it.
“Mae seemed to wear down this afternoon,” she said, instead. “She pretended to stop early for me, but it was really for her.”
“She’s eighty-one. She has good days and bad.”
“I wasn’t sure you realized that.”
“It’s a little hard not to.”
“But she always seems so in charge, so...determined.”
“She’s been that way all her life.”
“Do you worry about her?” Shannon asked.
“I figure she’ll tell me if something’s wrong.”
“Has she always liked to boss other people around?”
Rafe laughed. “You’ve heard of the Law West of the Pecos? Some people think that was Judge Roy Bean,” he said, naming a figure from West Texas’s colorful past. “As far as Aunt Mae’s concerned, they’d be wrong. She’s the Law.”
“She ran the ranch at one time, didn’t she?”
“After my father died.”
“When was that?”
“When I was twelve.”
“And when did you take over?”
“At twenty-four.”
“Was it an easy transition?”
“Take a guess.”
“Mae didn’t want to let go?”
“She trusted me, or she wouldn’t have handed over the operation—no matter what the doctor said. But we butted heads on occasion. Sometimes we still do.”
“Like with Rio.” The words slipped unbidden from her lips.
Rafe frowned, but before he could answer Shannon asked briskly, “Shouldn’t we be heading back now?”
“In a minute. Has Rio said something to you?”
“He hasn’t, no.”
“Jodie then?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Shannon spun away from the pile of posts to walk back toward the horses. The three cows were drawing nearer to the trough, and she was as close to them as she wanted to get. They were far larger than she’d ever imagined them to be, both in height and breadth.
Rafe followed her.
Shannon didn’t speak for a moment. Finally, she admitted, “Jodie asked me to talk to you. She’s worried that you’re going to let Rio go. She wants me to—” She stopped.
“She wants you to convince me otherwise,” he finished for her. “Now I wonder why she thinks that would work?”
“She... She says that since I’m an outsider... Rafe, I realize you’re in a ticklish position with your aunt on one side and Jodie on the other, but I’m not so sure... No. I am an outsider; I should mind my own business. I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this.”
“What aren’t you so sure about?” he asked.
“Rio.”
“What about him?”
“I’m not so sure your aunt Mae isn’t right. He and Jodie aren’t—” She paused.
“—right for each other,” he finished for her.
“Exactly.” Shannon heard her one-word concurrence and realized she was beginning to sound like a Parker.
Rafe loosened the reins from the post and handed hers over. Then he swung up into the saddle and waited for her to do the same. The cows had reached the trough and were drinking noisily. He watched them a moment before asking, “Why?”
Shannon didn’t want to go into detail. After all, she could be mistaken. Sometimes it was easy to misinterpret a little harmless flirtation. She shrugged, making a production of settling her feet into the stirrups. “It’s just a feeling I have. Jodie’s so young, and she’s threatening to leave with Rio if you send him away.”
Rafe’s lips tightened.
“I think she might mean it,” Shannon warned.
His lips tightened even more. “It’s the way Aunt Mae goes about things that stirs up all the trouble. She tells people what she thinks is good for them, then keeps the pressure on until they agree just to get her to let up.”
Uneasy, Shannon remembered the reason everyone thought she was here. She turned her horse to retrace their previous path.
The sun was almost at the setting stage, lending a rosy glow to the land. By the time they arrived back at the compound it would be fully dark, a fact that caused a whisper of trepidation to slide along her spine.
“What are you going to do about Rio?” she asked as Rafe fell into place at her side.
“Seems I don’t have much choice but to keep him on, at least for the moment.”
“With the idea that given a little time the love affair will play itself out?”
“That’s what I’ve been hoping for the past three months.”
“But it hasn’t yet.” She stated the obvious.
“No.”
“Jodie said something about her mother leaving?” Shannon asked. “I’m only mentioning it because it seems to bother her.”
“Yeah. She left, all right,” Rafe confirmed. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair, then replaced it. “Jodie’s mother ran off when Jodie was a baby. She wasn’t even walking yet. Ruby and Aunt Mae didn’t get along—to put it mildly. Fur flew when those two were in the same room. Uncle Gib had married Ruby before Aunt Mae knew what was happening. He met her
in some bar in El Paso. Seems she was just passing through—until Uncle Gib made the mistake of mentioning the ranch. He told me that she changed her mind real quick right about then. The marriage wasn’t exactly made in heaven, and a couple of years later, after Jodie was born, Ruby found herself a rodeo cowboy and ran off with him. Aunt Mae got the marriage annulled. It was as if it had never happened, except for Jodie.”
“So Jodie never really knew her mother.”
“No, but she knows about her. Aunt Mae thought it best.”
“You don’t agree?”
“Aunt Mae doesn’t mean to hurt people, but it happens because she’s so stubborn.”
Shannon grew quiet, thinking about everything she’d been told.
As expected, night had closed in by the time they got back to the ranch. If not for the big electric light mounted high on a pole that gave an even golden glow to the corral and pens, they would’ve been in complete darkness. The moon had yet to put in an appearance, and the stars had only begun to twinkle.
Shannon stroked the horses’ necks as Rafe relieved them of their saddles and bridles, then he turned them loose in the corral. The horse Shannon had ridden trotted away, happy to be free. The horse Rafe had used needed a pat on the rump for encouragement.
“Thank you for letting me use your horse,” she murmured.
“Next time I’ll find you a better mount,” Rafe said. “One more suited to your ability.”
“Will it be conscious?” she asked dryly as they started up the path leading to the compound.
“I meant one with a little more spunk. Old Junior could never be accused of that.”
“I noticed you had to prod him a lot.”
“He’s lazy. The kids don’t ride him enough.”
The area between the bunkhouse and workshops was lighted, as well, although not to the same degree as the corral and pens. Each building had a small light affixed to one corner of the porch roof, which was enough to chase away encroaching shadows.
It felt oddly curious to Shannon to be walking to the compound with Rafe. Yet at the same time it was remarkably comfortable—as if she’d done it a thousand times before.
In spite of her earlier misgivings, she’d enjoyed their ride, enjoyed talking with him. Enjoyed being with him.
Her thoughts screeched to a halt. She hadn’t meant that! It was the ride she’d enjoyed, not him!
As her steps slowed, he pulled ahead of her.
“Something the matter?” he asked, pausing to look back.
“Nothing at all,” she replied. She tried to sound as relaxed as she’d been in the moments before, but she knew she failed miserably. As a quick cover, she bent to rub her weakened leg, pretending to do it surreptitiously.
“Your leg giving you trouble?” Rafe asked, frowning. “Did we ride too far?”
“Not at all,” she said, straightening. “I should get off my leg soon, though. Sometimes it still hurts.”
“Can you make it to Mae’s place?” he asked.
“Of course,” she answered. “It just gives me a twinge sometimes.”
“Let me help,” he said, closing in.
“No, I—” Shannon tried to refuse his offer, but he acted too quickly. He curved an arm around her waist, ready to relieve her of some of the strain of walking.
“Really, I—” she tried again.
“Start walking,” he said, “and if you can’t, I’ll carry you.”
To stave off that threat Shannon struggled forward, and she could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle.
Shep was waiting for them at the point where the path met the driveway. He trotted up to greet them, going first to Rafe, then to Shannon.
“Does he meet you like this every day?” she asked. She was uncomfortably aware of the way Rafe was supporting her, of the warmth of his body.
“Every day he’s not already with me,” he said.
The dog fell into place at Rafe’s side, wagging his tail.
Shannon could see the welcoming lights of Mae’s house. They were almost there. Only a little farther...
They moved up the drive, then the short sidewalk without incident, but when they started up the stairs to the porch, Shannon’s leg truly buckled. She cried out in dismay as she felt herself lurch forward. Only Rafe’s quick action—tightening his arm and drawing her against him—prevented her from falling.
His face was no more than an inch from her own. She could see the fine lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes, see each dark curling lash, the masculine curve of his eyebrows, the straight nose, the tiny indentation above his upper lip. She breathed in his essence, and the memory of the last time they were this close set off another maelstrom of feeling. Shannon tried to fight it, but she was lost before the battle even began.
Without his support she would have collapsed onto the steps, a boneless mass. She wanted him to kiss her, to touch her, to want her!
He brought her upright as easily as if she were a feather. Her weight was nothing to him. When her feet found purchase on the porch, she and Rafe stood a step apart, which erased a measure of their height difference. Her hands were drawn to his shoulders, to the muscles beneath the thin pliant leather of his vest. Not the kind of muscles bodybuilders affect. Instead, the kind that come from the hard work of bending and moving and lifting on the job. Her fingers slid of their own volition along his collar to his neck and spread into his thick black hair.
“Shannon,” he murmured huskily.
His eyes were glittering, his body tense. All it would take from her was the slightest sign of encouragement.
For several long seconds Shannon hovered on the brink of giving that sign, her mind reaching out in imagination to what it would be like to be made love to by him. To be beside him, to be possessed...
She swayed toward him, but his hands came out to stop her. His fingers were taut on her ribs. She could feel their strength through her blouse.
She looked at him in confusion.
“Aunt Mae,” he murmured, nodding stiffly toward the house.
It was only then that Shannon heard footsteps in one of the front rooms. Rafe faced the windows, so he must have seen who it was. Any minute Mae could open the door and, if they continued with what they’d been about to do, see the budding fruit of her labor.
That thought shook Shannon to the core.
“I—I can’t do this,” she breathed, stepping back. “It’s not right.”
“Why the hell not?” he shot back. “Not here, of course, but—”
“No!”
“No commitments on either side,” he said, once again reaching for her.
Shannon eluded his touch. “No!”
“You don’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry you, but there’s nothing that says we can’t have a little fun. Might as well. We’re both adults. Neither of us is married or engaged, neither of us owes anything to anyone else, and there’s definitely something—”
“No, no, no!” Shannon cried. James. She had to think of James. Yet his memory seemed to be fading. The colors weren’t as true. His image was being obscured by something dark and menacing.
The door opened behind them, and Mae stepped out. “I thought I heard—” she began. Her hawklike eyes took in everything, and she must have understood instantly what she’d interrupted, but not a flicker of emotion crossed her face. Not pleasure, not consternation, not curiosity. “So you’re back,” she said levelly.
Shannon took advantage of the interruption to slip closer to the doorway, while Rafe shifted position on the step. Shannon could feel his gaze follow her.
Her heart thumped rapidly, her emotions shifting wildly between elation and despair.
“All safe and sound,” Rafe said with a slight ironic edge.
“No more than I expected,” Mae agreed. “Did you enjoy yourself?” She directed the question at Shannon.
“Yes, very much,” Shannon said, then wished she’d been more careful in her choice of words.
&n
bsp; “Good, good,” Mae said, nodding. “Rafe, Dub was looking for you earlier. I told him you’d be back before he could finish dinner with the boys, so he said he’d make the sacrifice and stay. He’s probably still down at the cookhouse.”
“I’ll go see him.”
An awkward moment followed where no one moved, then everyone moved at once. Mae brushed past Shannon on her way back into the house, not bothering to see if her houseguest stayed or followed. Rafe started to turn away, but paused when Shannon bumped against the door, again having momentarily lost her balance.
“I can carry you up to bed if you like,” he offered softly, a dry smile curving his lips. “Of course it might be morning before I leave.”
“Dub is waiting for you,” Shannon said.
“Dub can wait.”
Shannon stared at him like a rabbit caught in the hypnotic gaze of a snake.
Rafe’s smile held, then after a tip of his hat, he called to Shep, who quickly hurried to his human’s side.
~*~
“Well, you don’t look like life’s treatin’ you any too good,” Dub observed as Rafe stepped up to the long trestle table and sat down next to him. Down the bench, Cecil and J.J. nodded a greeting, then went back to their conversation.
“It’s not,” Rafe said.
“What’s up?” Dub asked. “Didn’t I see you go by just a minute ago with that young filly? I happened to be standin’ in the bunkhouse door, and I’m sure it was you—walkin’ an’ talkin’ an’ actin’ all friendly like. What did she do? Try to kiss you?”
“Shut up, Dub,” Rafe growled.
Dub rocked back and forth. “Whooh-hoo!” he burst out, laughing. “I seem to have touched a raw nerve! What happened? Did you end up havin’ to plead for your virtue?”
“Old man,” Rafe warned, “I’m not in the mood to be teased.”
Dub continued to grin, not at all intimidated. “Not that I’d have minded if I was you,” he said. “She is a right pretty little thing.”
“You wanted to see me?” Rafe asked flatly.
Dub finally took the hint. “Yeah, but it can wait till we finish eatin’.” He jabbed a slice of meat with his fork and wiped it around in the sauce from his beans, then crammed the dripping mass into his mouth. “Mmm, this is good!” he said after he’d chewed and swallowed. “Real food. Not like that pizza junk the kids love. Did you know Delores sent off for a cookbook that only shows you how to cook pizzas? The whole book—full of pizza recipes! Ham-and-pineapple pizza, spinach-and-goat-cheese pizza. Give me this any day!” He glanced at Rafe. “Aren’t you goin’ to have any?”
West Texas Match (The West Texans Series #1) Page 15
