Afterward, she held him close, painfully aware of how short life could be. She loved feeling him inside her, holding her. She knew she had fallen in love with this man whose past haunted him the way her own still did. Was it a mistake? Undoubtedly. But she didn't care. She would walk through this door, just as she had the rest and see what was on the other side. And somehow, when it was over, she'd find a way to let him go. But until then, she would let him hold her and forget about how much she wanted him to stay.
* * *
The other day's rain had left the sky scoured and blue and the pasture sprouting with new spring shoots of green. Gene Fielding steered his Jeep Wrangler over the rutted pasture toward the collection of cattle and men milling around the branding fire in the north pasture. He could see a pair of men straddling a bawling newborn in the mud, pressing the ZX brand into the animal's smoking hide while another pair of ranch hands chased down the next victim.
Donnelly sat astride his prize gelding, Lazarus, overseeing the operation, directing traffic. Gene pulled to a stop near the branding truck and shut off the engine. What he was about to do was as distasteful as anything he'd ever done, but he had no other choice. The information he'd dug up on MacCallister was explosive and could very well save both his and Donnelly's necks. But at what cost? What was the price of a man's future? What had happened to that damned line he'd sworn long ago not to cross? He couldn't seem to locate it anymore. The damned thing kept moving.
What the hell, he thought. Chrissy was starting at Stanford in the fall and his son, Kyle, would follow two years later. Gene couldn't afford the luxury of conscience or regret. It was too late for that. His children looked at him as if he could do no wrong. And he'd be damned if they'd find out differently.
He reached for the dossier and climbed out of the Jeep. Donnelly saw him coming and eased Lazarus over to meet him.
"Well?" Donnelly asked.
"It's all there," Gene told him, handing him the paperwork. "I think you'll be satisfied."
Donnelly stared at the dossier in his hands and gave a long, slow whistle. "You sure about this?"
"As sure as I am that his old man owns the biggest spread east of the King Ranch," Gene Fielding told him, lighting a cigarette with the engraved silver lighter Laird had given him for Christmas. "They don't speak. Haven't for years."
"Resources?"
"Disinherited. Six years ago when he married that gal from upstate New York. His father, Judd MacCallister, kept a pretty tight rein on his boy and didn't take it too well that some girl from the wrong side of the tracks was going to mother his future heirs."
Laird looked up, a smug smile beginning to curve his mouth. "And the rest?"
"…is on the public record. If he'd thought to use an alias, it would have made my job harder. But I found a booking photo. It's him all right."
"You think she knows?" Laird asked.
"Doubtful." Gene inhaled deeply and blew out a ring of bluish smoke that drifted to the bright, cerulean sky like a dented halo. "No mention of it on the marriage license application. And I asked around. He plays his cards close to the vest. Nobody knows anything about him. Not even Moody."
"Moody talked to you about him?" Laird said, surprised.
"Not intentionally. We were just … passing the time, you know? Over a cup of coffee."
"So…" Donnelly scanned the contents, "Santa Fe, Boulder, Orem … Boise. He's worked all over the damn country. Where's he heading?"
"I plotted out his last few months. It seems random to me. Looks like it was dumb luck he landed here at Maggie's."
Donnelly closed the file folder and fingered the sharp edges. "Nothin' lucky about that," he said with an ugly smile. "Nothin' lucky at all. You're sure he's not a hired gun?"
"Maggie can't afford one and I don't think he's in the market for another stint behind bars. I think he can be handled."
"Anyone can be handled for the right price. If this deal isn't closed by the fifteenth of July, we lose everything. Make this happen. Gene. Call Kipling," Donnelly told him. "Set up a meeting. Then call Solefield. We'll bury this son of a bitch." He hauled back on his reins and urged Lazarus into a sharp pivot, leaving Gene behind, eating mud.
"Will do. Sure thing," Gene muttered to himself as he walked back to his Jeep, brushing the specks of mud off his coat jacket and kicking a dirt clod out of his way. "It's been my pleasure to conspire with you to destroy a man's life."
* * *
Bill Tischman, the owner of the Lazy H spread over in Helena, slipped his black Stetson off and slid his hand down Geronimo's foreleg, then patted the animal's muscular chest.
"Sound. He looks in top form, Maggie," Bill said, "and I like the way he's settled down." He smoothed a hand down Geronimo's muzzle. "I'd like to see him work."
"Absolutely. Cain? Bill, this is my husband, Cain MacCallister."
Cain, who'd spent the morning getting Maggie's truck up and running again, wiped the grease off his hands and took Bill's proffered one. "Pleasure. Maggie's told me about your place."
Bill smiled proudly. "It's just a little spread, but it suits me. Maggie says you've worked wonders with this crazy horse of hers. You gonna show me what he can do?"
Cain nodded. "I think you'll see his potential."
Cain mounted Geronimo and put him through his paces with the cows. Her chest tightened, watching Cain work. He rode as if he were born on the back of a horse, his movements so in tune with the horse's that Maggie herself couldn't see the signals he was giving. It made her wonder again where he'd learned to ride like that.
Since that first time two days ago in the shower, they'd barely been able to keep their hands off one another. Even now, as she watched his shoulders strain the seams of his denim shirt and the strong muscles of his thighs guide Geronimo through his paces, an illicit thrill stole through her at the prospect of what might happen between them later.
As if he could read her thoughts, Cain caught her eye, giving her a secret wink as Geronimo successfully cut a steer from the herd and cornered it against the fence.
Maggie felt heat bloom on her cheeks and she prayed Bill's attention was on the horse, not on the raw sexual tension between her and Cain.
Geronimo missed a cue, a common mistake for a green horse, and Cain patiently corrected him and moved ahead.
"He's come a long way," she told Bill, stepping up on the rail and wrapping her arms around the rough pine pole. "He needs another couple of weeks. Maybe a month. He'll be ready to cut in the futurity over in Boise by late August if you're going to enter."
Bill nodded, his expert gaze missing nothing. "Your new husband's quite a talented trainer. You say he's the one who's been working Geronimo?"
"Yes. And he's not just talented. He's gifted. We both know Geronimo had a less than even chance of coming around."
Bill regarded her with a smile. They'd known each other for four years and they respected each other. Bill had known Ben, but he'd mostly worked with her.
"Frankly," he said, sliding his hat back on, "when I saw you bid on that horse at the auction that day, I didn't think you had a prayer. I wouldn't have taken that chance. That horse had more problems than three of my worst cutting horses combined. But you've turned him around. I like what I see. I think we can safely say that if he's everything you promise by the end of July, I'll be payin' you another visit. This time with my checkbook."
Maggie had to work to contain her elation. His checkbook! They'd already talked about price. Geronimo would be well worth more than ten times what she'd paid for him. And with that amount, she could pull herself out of this hole she'd been in for the past few months and get back on top.
Cain guided Geronimo up to the fence and leaned over to shake Tischman's hand.
"Nice work, Mr. MacCallister. If Maggie hadn't snagged you first with a wedding ring, I'd have been tempted to hire you away from her."
Cain's smile gave little away, but he met Maggie's eyes briefly before he said, "That mean you're int
erested in Geronimo?"
"I certainly am. Your wife can fill you in on the details." He touched the brim of his hat to Maggie. "I'm gonna head back. I've got a million things to do before the sun goes down. But I sure am glad I stopped by today. You take care, Maggie. I'll see you in a few weeks."
Maggie smiled broadly. "I will. Thanks, Bill."
Cain dismounted and they watched the rancher pull out of her yard and onto the highway. Maggie couldn't contain her whoop of joy as she flung herself into Cain's arms. He laughed and spun her around.
"You did it!" she shrieked. "You did it!"
"We did it," he said, twirling her to a stop and staring down at her. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"Do you know what this means? It means I can pay back my debt. Get back in the black again. Back on my feet. I'll be able to repay those old debts, and with the yearlings due for sale this year…"
"Whoa!" he said, setting her down. "He's not sold yet."
"But as good as…" she said, throwing her head back and spinning around. "Oh, I feel a thousand pounds lighter!"
He drew her back to him and curled his arms around her. "Any news on the loan yet?"
"Not yet. But if I don't hear by tomorrow, I'm going to have Harold call. Once we get the loan, it'll tide us through the next few months. But Geronimo's sale will put this place back on the map." She beamed up at him. "Thank you, Cain."
He hesitated, as if he'd been about to tell her something, but changed his mind. "I think," he said, reaching for Geronimo's reins, "this calls for a night off."
She tipped her head up with a grin. "A night in, you mean?"
"Hmm. That, too," he said, kissing her nose. "But I had something else in mind."
"What?"
He smiled down at her, his eyes full of mystery. "How do you feel about cotton candy?"
* * *
The carnival came to Fishhook only once a year and drew crowds from every nearby town—Marysburg, Wolf Creek, and Craig to name a few. Banners in town had been proclaiming it for weeks. Next to the rodeo in Helena, it was the highlight of most folks' year. The Ferris wheel and the other rides were set up on the high school field, with colored lights stung from light pole to light pole. Barkers shouted over the din of the fluid crowd, hawking people in to their game booths. It brought back old memories to Cain of when he was a kid and his old man used to take him to carnivals like this one. The whole town would turn out and stay up late to ride the Tilt-o-Wheel and the Electric Serpent.
Cain actually smiled at the memory. It was the only time he'd ever seen ol' Judd green around the gills. He'd always believed his old man had toughed it out because that's what MacCallisters did. But it occurred to him, as he watched the fathers brave the carnival with their children, that maybe Judd had toughed it out for him.
He couldn't imagine where such a generous thought had come from, so he steered Maggie toward a ball toss game where a brawny teenager had just missed the three cement bottles entirely and was taking a ribbing from his friends.
"You play baseball, too?" she asked with a grin.
"That remains to be seen," he said, handing the barker a dollar. The barker handed him three balls.
Cain pointed up to the stuffed Kewpie dolls, snakes and huge stuffed elephant hanging above the game. "Which one?" he asked her.
Maggie laughed. "I have my choice?"
"Yeah. Pick one. Three hits for the elephant."
"Well, that's the one I want then." She laughed again, shaking her head, sure he wouldn't do it.
Cain pointed to the three bottles poised on the small circular stand ten feet away like Babe Ruth pointing at the destination of a home run.
The high school boys who were lingering nearby let out hoots of disbelief as Cain did an exaggerated windup. And let the ball fly.
Three bottles exploded off the stand dead center!
The brawny one who'd missed moments before, got shoved good-humoredly by his compatriots who couldn't help but point out Cain's advanced age. Feeling elderly, he knocked down the next three and the three after that. Beside him Maggie and the rest of the crowd whooped.
"Winnah, winnah, we got a winnah!" the barker announced, pulling the huge gray elephant from near the ceiling of the tent.
Maggie shrieked, hugging the stuffed animal to her as if it were the best present she'd ever received.
Cain felt a tug in his chest, watching the excitement in Maggie's eyes. He loved watching her smile. He loved that something as dumb as a stuffed elephant could make her happy.
It had been a long time … longer than he cared to remember since he'd given himself permission to feel that way. But with Maggie at his side, smiling up at him like he was sliced bread for winning that stupid elephant, he felt alive.
He'd dreamed of Annie the other night. He dreamed he'd woken up as he lay beside Maggie and Annie was standing there, smiling down at him. The strangest part was she was holding the hand of a child. A beautiful little blond girl he'd never seen. Annie didn't talk or say a word, but he'd heard the other sound, the child's laughter. It was the sound of Maggie's laugh. That same sound.
He didn't understand it then. And he wasn't sure he did now. Except that he hadn't been able to dredge up the guilt he knew he should feel over allowing himself to make love to Maggie since that night. She was the first good thing to happen to him in years. He'd never intended to let her in, but somehow she'd worked her way inside him. And he wasn't sure what to do about it.
"Why didn't you tell me you were a closet jock?" Maggie asked as they walked away with their prize.
"What? I don't look like a jock?" he asked, feigning offense.
"Don't try to tell me you never played. With that arm?"
Cain shrugged. "I played some college ball."
"College?" Surprise widened her eyes. "Where?"
"A small school back East," he hedged.
"Which one?" she pressed.
Cain sighed. "Cornell."
Maggie stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. "Excuse me? Cornell?"
He kept walking. A bunch of teenaged girls bumped into Maggie, catching her in their current and she had to fight her way back to him. "Cornell University."
"It's not a big deal, Maggie."
"Cornell is … well … it's Ivy League."
"Mmm … not much Ivy. Lakes and lots of grass."
She stared at him in shock.
"It was a long time ago," he said, wishing he hadn't told her. It made what had happened since seem even worse.
Maggie started walking again, clutching her elephant. The candied apple/cotton candy truck appeared as the crowd parted. He grinned. He hadn't had cotton candy in years. "Want some?" he asked. She nodded, and after they'd fought their way to it, he paid the vendor and settled a cone of spun pink cotton candy in her hand.
"Mmm…" she murmured wickedly, diving in. "Don't make me eat all this."
He flicked a tuft of pink off her nose with a smile and accepted a spun-sugar wisp from her fingertips.
"So…" she began again, "this drifter-on-a-motorcycle thing is a relatively new pastime?"
He glanced around the fairgrounds. He didn't want to talk about this. "You wanna ride the Ferris wheel?"
"Cain…?"
"Or are you afraid of heights?"
"I'm not afraid of heights."
"Atta girl." He took her by the arm and dragged her toward the giant wheel, that lit up the evening sky with colored wonder. They walked right onto the ride. The operator held onto the elephant and Maggie and Cain were soon winding upward toward the top of the wheel as they loaded on more passengers.
"Oh, my," she whispered when they'd reached the apex of the loop. "It's looks so different from up here. Beautiful."
Cain slid his arm around her against the chill in the air. The breeze blew against their faces and tugged at their hair as they went around and around. Maggie's ranch and the others in the valley spread out like lush green quilts. The sunset cast the jagged stony mou
ntains in purples and grays and one could almost imagine that this place didn't exist in a world of cities and crowds and dark corners.
Couples dangled their feet above and below them, snuggling in the illusion of privacy that surrounded the revolving wheel. Real couples, he mused, who intended to spend the rest of their lives together, or at least had every intention of trying.
He knew it was past time to tell her the truth about himself. But he didn't want to spoil tonight. Not when she was feeling on top of the world for the first time in God knew how long. Because truth was a risk and he figured once he told it, the odds against her ever being able to look at him the same way were slim to none.
So he'd wait, he thought, pulling her against him. Tomorrow. He'd tell her tomorrow.
Above them, the stars were coming out against the deepening violet. Maggie snuggled against him, eating her cotton candy.
"Pink decadence," she said with a moan of pleasure. She offered some to him but he shook his head with a smile. "You're going to force me to eat the rest, aren't you?" she said.
"Yup."
"I can't tempt you?"
"Nope." His gaze slid down her face.
"Don't feel like talking?"
"Nope." He dropped his mouth on hers, tasting the sweet cotton candy on her lips and the hunger in her kiss. Their seat began to rock gently and Maggie laughed against his mouth.
"Maggie! Cain!" came a shout from below.
They split apart guiltily and looked down to find Moody waving at them from below. Harold was standing beside her, scowling up at them. They waved back, but Cain felt heat move up his neck at the look on Maggie's lawyer's face.
When the wheel had stopped and they'd gathered up their elephant, he and Maggie walked to where Moody and Harold waited. Moody, who hadn't seen Maggie since the day after the truck accident, made a fuss over her and the elephant Cain had won, then dragged Maggie to the food booth where they were judging her brownies and chocolate sauce. Cain sauntered along behind with Harold, the tension between them thick enough to cut.
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