He’ll get over it, she thought as they rode toward the house. The fire still burned at the spit, and the air was still filled with that savory aroma of barbecued meat. She could hear the music—some sort of western waltz—and she could see the couples who danced together in the lighted, open yard between the long food table and the spit. Mac let Willard walk at his leisure, slowly, and it occurred to her suddenly that perhaps he, too, wanted to prolong their time together.
He’ll get over it. The thought reasserted itself in her mind. She had wounded his masculine pride, that’s all. He was used to having his own way. He was used to riding off with one woman while another one begged to come along. That kind of relationship wasn’t for her. She’d rather be alone.
The barbecue was still in progress, and it seemed to Amelia as they rode into the yard that except for certain key persons at the spit like Pop, an entirely different set of guests milled around waiting to be fed.
“Where’ve you been, Mac?” Pop called to them as they rode by.
“Showing Amelia Chimayo,” Mac answered, his reply short and not necessarily sweet.
“Must’ve got bigger since the last time I seen it,” Pop suggested mildly, causing everyone within earshot to laugh.
Mac didn’t answer, riding on to the corral. He reached behind him to help Amelia down, trying to clutch her arm in the big sleeve of his denim jacket. He handed her the suitcase.
“Mac,” she said, looking up at him in the semi-darkness where the electric lights didn’t quite reach. She could just make out his features, the eyes she knew would be tired and sad.
“What?” He slid off Willard in an easy, fluid motion.
Her clothes were still damp, and she was cold, but it was the tone of his voice that made her want to shiver. She turned away, giving a small sigh. “Nothing.”
Mac caught her arm. “That’s right, Amelia. It’s nothing. Nothing to you anyway.” She tried to pull her arm free, but he wouldn’t let go.
“What’s wrong?” Bobby said suddenly behind them.
“Nothing,” Amelia said again, this time to Bobby. Mac let go of her arm.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Amelia. I was talking to Mac. What’s wrong?” Bobby looked from one of them to the other. “Did you tell her?”
“I told her,” Mac said, beginning to unsaddle Willard.
“She took it that bad? It took you two hours to tell her?”
Mac didn’t answer, throwing a stirrup up over the saddle instead.
“Did you ask her to stay?”
“I didn’t get that far,” Mac said, glancing at Amelia as he hefted the saddle off Willard’s back and carried it to the fence.
“Just how far did you get?” Bobby asked, his voice cold. “I told you how she is now—”
“Yeah, yeah, you told me,” Mac broke in. “You told me. She didn’t.”
“What are you talking about?” Amelia demanded, outraged at being discussed as if she weren’t there.
“There are two things you can do for me, Bobby,” Mac said, ignoring her question. “Don’t start up with me, because I’m not in the mood for it. And you let Amelia take care of herself. Believe me, she doesn’t need your help.”
“Just a minute,” Amelia said, but neither of them paid her any attention whatsoever. She kept looking from one man to the other. Bobby was clearly aching to hit something, and Mac was more than delighted to have him try it.
“Are you going to give me grief too?” Mac said to Willard when the horse balked at going through the corral gate. “Get in there!” Willard went—eventually—and Mac closed the gate, leaving Amelia and Bobby standing there as he walked back toward the house.
“I’m not through talking to you,” Bobby warned him.
“Bobby, shut up, will you? I told you I’m not in the mood!”
“Mac!” Bobby yelled after him.
“Talk to Amelia,” Mac said over his shoulder, and he kept going, leaving them alone. Amelia took a long breath, and she stood staring at her brother. Thankfully, the music had started up again, and she set the suitcase down on the uneven ground, thinking that Bobby would rather start a brawl than face her.
“I’ve got your clothes in here,” she said quietly, and Bobby nodded. He took a long time to look upward at the stars before he finally looked at her.
“Did he tell you I was crazy?” he asked, and Amelia could feel the effort that went into that question.
“That’s not what Mac told me, Bobby. He told me what you’ve been doing to survive.”
Bobby continued to look at her. “Amelia—I’m—sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice so low she nearly missed it. A fiddle bawled in the background, and people laughed and talked around them.
“You’re my brother, Bobby. I love you.”
Bobby looked as if he might cry, but he managed a small, tentative laugh. “By God, I think she means it,” he said, reaching up to rub the top of her head with his knuckles the way he used to do when they were children. “What… if I ask you to do me a favor then?”
“You know I’ll do anything I can for you.”
“Can you stay for a while?” he said, taking her completely by surprise. She’d expected him to ask her to go away and leave him alone. “I’ve already talked to Pop and Rita.”
“Bobby, I can’t,” Amelia interrupted to keep him from going any further.
“Why not?”
Because Mac’s here, she almost said.
“Are you that worried about money?”
“Yes,” she said truthfully, her eyes scanning the yard for Mac. She didn’t see him anywhere. “I don’t have much. I can’t just move in with Pop and Rita.”
“Sure you can. They want you—”
“No, I can’t!”
“Amelia, do you think I’d ask you if I didn’t need—” He broke off what he was going to say, sighing deeply and rearranging his cowboy hat. “You need to stay, you know.”
“Now, what does that mean?”
“It means you’re tired—and skinny. It means you don’t have a job for the summer because you were such an emotional wreck when they were taking applications, you couldn’t handle filling one out.”
“That’s not true!”
“Then why didn’t you apply? You need to rest, Amelia.”
She didn’t answer him. She didn’t want to fight with Bobby, and she didn’t want to explain her past inability to make any kind of plans. She was all right now, and she wanted to help him, but she simply couldn’t do what he asked. She glanced up as Pop and Rita approached them. Pop was smiling, reaching for her hand.
“I’m proud you’re staying with us, darlin’,” he said.
“She’s not staying,” Bobby said bluntly. “She won’t do it.”
“Bobby, I can’t!” Amelia cried, her eyes pleading for him to understand what she couldn’t explain. “I’m not working. I don’t have a job—”
“Amelia, you need to stop and take care of yourself!” Bobby said angrily.
“I am fine!” she shouted. Lord! She’d done nothing but quarrel all day!
“Amelia, honey, I don’t see what the trouble is,” Pop said, and Amelia turned on him.
“Pop, I can’t afford to pay you. I can’t afford to live here!”
She knew immediately that she’d said the wrong thing. She stood looking from Bobby to Pop and then back again.
“Miss Amelia,” Pop said finally, his voice very quiet. “You and Bobby have got yourselves some family troubles. And for you to think I’d not help you out if I could—for you to think I’d want money for doing it—well, it hurts me to the quick, that’s all.”
“Pop,” she said, reaching out to him, but the damage was done. He wouldn’t talk to her. He went back toward the spit with Rita in pursuit, Rita chiding her on the way with a whispered, “Amelia!”
“Oh, God,” Amelia said under her breath, passing her hand over her face in some effort at composure.
“I hope you’re happy now,” Bobby sai
d.
“No, I’m not happy—!”
“Amelia!” Mac suddenly yelled out the back door of the house. “Telephone!”
“Now, I wonder who that is,” Bobby said ominously.
“I don’t know!” Amelia snapped, heading toward the house.
“Yeah, well, give Daniel my warmest regards,” Bobby called after her.
Mac was still standing in the back doorway when she got there, holding the screen door open for her and making no effort to move out of her way. His muscular body filled the space, giving her very little room to get by. “It’s Daniel,” he said as she squeezed past him into the kitchen, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder for a moment and making her suddenly remember the taste of his mouth and skin.
“Where’s the phone?” she said sharply because she didn’t want to remember that. And if she wanted privacy to talk to her ex-husband, Mac was going to make her ask for it. He pointed out the phone in the alcove just off the kitchen, but he didn’t go away; he puttered around in the kitchen instead, taking down a coffee mug and filling it from a blue-speckled coffeepot. She stood clutching the receiver, watching as Mac sat down at the kitchen table, her eyes traveling the length of his long legs as he propped his feet up on a nearby chair. His weatherbeaten hands made a furtive attempt to press the pain out of his thighs. All this time, she thought, and he’s still in pain. She could feel it when she looked at him, just as she had ten years ago. He suddenly turned his head to look at her, as if he were as sensitive to her feelings as she was to his. “Talk to Daniel,” he reminded her.
“What!” she said abruptly into the receiver, annoyed at having Mac know how much he affected her—again.
“Amelia?” Daniel said as if he wasn’t quite sure it was her voice.
“Yes. What is it?”
“What is it?” Daniel repeated. “I want to know if you’re all right. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to New Mexico? What is that hippie trying to do—get money out of you?”
“I don’t have any money, Daniel. I gave it all to you yesterday, remember?” She glanced at Mac, who was openly listening.
“Is he trying to get your money?” Mac asked incredulously, his mind clearly not registering the fact that her conversation with Daniel was none of his business.
“No,” Amelia said pointedly, covering the receiver with her hand. “He’s trying to keep you from getting it.”
“Me?” Mac said indignantly. “You don’t have any money!”
“Who are you talking to?” Daniel demanded in her ear.
“Will you go away!” Amelia said to Mac. “What, Daniel?”
“That really was a cute remark, Amelia,” Daniel assured her. “You gave all your money to me. You don’t know how gullible you are. You believe anything anybody tells you.”
“Well, you’d know more about that than most, Daniel. I certainly believed everything you told me, didn’t I?”
“Amelia, you can tell him for me—” Mac interrupted.
“I’m not telling him anything for you!” Amelia shouted, her hand over the receiver again.
“Fine!” Mac shouted back, slamming out the back door just as several people came in. Amelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“When are you coming home?” Daniel asked.
“Daniel…” Amelia said in exasperation. Her return was no more his business than her leaving had been.
“Listen, Amelia, if you’re staying there for a while, you can help me out—”
“Help you what?” Amelia said cautiously.
“It’s Kerry. She’s got the flu or something. She can’t go on the dig with me until she gets over it. I thought maybe you’d come out to the site for a while—just until she gets better—”
“Daniel, are you out of your mind?” Amelia asked a lot more calmly than she felt.
“Now, Amelia,” Daniel cajoled, and she found herself gritting her teeth again. “You already know the group, Amelia. I need you to help me—”
“Forget it, Daniel,” she interrupted. “I’m sorry about Kerry—sort of—but I am not about to come to the Grand Canyon and be your mule. You’ll have to do your own cooking and find some other way to keep your back warm.”
“Amelia, if you’re staying out there, I don’t see why you can’t—”
“I’m hanging up now, Daniel,” Amelia advised him, and she did so, standing there for a moment in the alcove. “Oh, God,” she said under her breath, looking up at a small noise. Mac’s friend, the irrepressible Marlene, stood quietly by the bathroom door. She gave a small, knowing smile, and Amelia turned away, heading for the back door and letting it slam hard on her way out. She walked rapidly down the walk, nearly colliding with Bobby’s girl-in-the-red-and-black-shirt.
“Have you seen Bobby?” the girl asked worriedly.
“No,” Amelia said without stopping. She kept walking until she reached the corral, and she stood there in the shadows, clutching the top railing and taking deep breaths. Willard approached tentatively, pushing at her with his nose, breathing on her face. She put her hand up to keep him away, then rested her cheek on his nose for a moment. “I don’t have anything for you either, Wonder Horse,” she whispered. “I don’t have anything for anybody.” She was so tired, and Willard gave a soft rumble deep in his chest. She was tired of being alone. She was tired of trying to cope with Bobby, and she was definitely tired of Daniel and Kerry.
Willard was trying to prop his chin on the top of her head.
“Believe me, Wonder Horse,” she whispered, “I am the last person who can prop you up. I can’t even prop myself—”
“You trying to steal my horse?” Mac said behind her, and she glanced at him, fighting an incredible urge to cry. How could he do that? How could he say the most inappropriate thing in the world and yet convey something that made her feel as if he understood everything?
She sighed to keep her voice steady. “Oh, I’m worse than a horse thief. If you don’t believe it, you can ask Bobby and Rita and Pop.”
Mac came to lean on the fence beside her. “Yeah. I’ve been sort of hearing about that.”
“I’ve hurt Pop’s feelings,” she said miserably.
“Yeah, you did that, all right,” Mac agreed.
“And Bobby thinks I won’t help him.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“And Rita’s upset with me because of Pop.”
“Right. Keep going.”
“That’s all,” she said a bit testily, trying to see his face in the darkness.
“No, ma’am, that’s not all. You did a pretty good job of hurting my feelings, too, while you were at it. Or did you forget that?”
Amelia looked away from him, reaching out to touch Willard on the nose. “No. I didn’t forget.”
“I came out here to tell you I’m sorry,” Mac said.
“You’re sorry?” Amelia said, frowning. “What have you got to be sorry about?”
“Look up here at me, will you? I can tell you better if you’ll do that.”
Amelia looked at him, feeling again that familiar weakness in the knees and the warmth in the belly he caused.
“That’s better. See, I know how much you love Daniel—”
“I don’t want to talk about Daniel.”
“Amelia, when a man is trying to say he’s sorry, it’s polite hereabouts to let him do it. Now, will you keep quiet and let me say it? Please!” he added in annoyance.
“All right! Say it!”
“You know, for somebody who’s never rude, you get into a hell of a lot of hot water.”
“I do, don’t I?” she said tiredly.
“Yes. You do. Now. I know you love Daniel. I know it hurt you to have him leave the way he did—anybody can look into your eyes and see that, so don’t go getting all mad at me again because you think I’m butting in where I’ve got no business. He left you, and you’re still hurting over it. And I let things get out of hand. I let us get into something you’re not ready for. I knew you wer
en’t, Amelia, but—I wanted you. I always have, and I got a little carried away. So what I want to say is, I’m sorry I pushed things too fast.” He smiled suddenly. “You’re such a damned sweet little thing, I couldn’t help it. I don’t regret it—hell, I’ll probably still be thinking about it when I’m ninety. But I want you to know that I won’t push you like that again. I don’t want you to not stay here when Bobby needs you just because of me—because of what happened today. I think Bobby would feel better about things if he knew you were with us. If you could just stay a few weeks—now, don’t start interrupting me, Amelia. I’m almost through and you’ve been doing such a good job of keeping your two cents to yourself—”
“Mac—”
“Amelia, don’t blow it! Think about what I said, will you? And don’t worry about Pop. All you have to remember is that he isn’t playing John Wayne. John Wayne was always playing Pop McDade. You’re the schoolmarm in distress, and Pop wouldn’t think twice about putting his hand in the fire for you. It would make him happy to have you here. And Rita and me. Just a couple of weeks at least, Amelia. Longer, if you want. You don’t have to worry about money—you can help us out here if it’ll make you feel better. We don’t live high on the hog, but we’ve got a good life. You don’t even have to worry about clothes. I’ve got a whole closet of things I wore when I was seventeen. Cowboy shirts—I’ve even got a suede jacket with the fringes on the sleeves—and a silver steer’s head you slide up and down on your neckerchief—” He showed her with his hands how it worked, and she couldn’t keep from smiling. “It’s got real fake rubies for eyes—you’d love it,” he added with that heartbreaking grin of his.
“Mac—” she said again.
“What?” he answered, finally letting her have a turn. It took her by surprise, and she immediately forgot what she’d wanted to say. She frowned and told him so.
“Amelia Taylor with nothing to say?” he gently teased her. “Ah, well. That’s because you’ve had a tough day—what with the airplanes and everything.” He stopped talking, staring into her eyes. They both knew it was the “and everything” that had left her so emotionally drained. “Go on to the house,” he said. “Get some sleep. In the morning when I get back from Gallup, we’ll talk some more. Go on,” he insisted, turning her gently around with his big hands and starting her toward the house. Again the feel of him through the borrowed denim jacket filled her with such longing, filled her with such a yearning for something she couldn’t begin to name. It all merged into a persistent ache deep inside her that somehow began and ended with Houston McDade. And she was afraid again, as afraid as she’d ever been after Daniel’s leaving.
Such Rough Splendor Page 9
