Then there was the matter of securing a ranch hand. Black Rock Ranch wasn’t big enough to have a whole herd of cowpokes to keep it running. And a good ranch hand was hard to come by on such short notice. Most everyone worth having was already out working at one of the bigger ranches, making better money than he could afford to pay them.
He sucked in a short breath and felt a bead of sweat trickle down his cheek as Melanie sat on the edge of the porch and gracefully crossed one long, slender leg over the other.
What in God’s name was he doing agreeing to take a city girl like her up into the hills? Women like Melanie Summers vacationed on the banks of some expensive resort town in Europe or the Caribbean. They didn’t trudge their way through the foothills of Wyoming. They skied Aspen and spent lots of money on fancy hotels and things they wanted but didn’t need. They didn’t come strutting onto his ranch, asking him to take a month out of his life to guide them through the mountains.
Luggage. That’s what she’d called it. He groaned inwardly, punching in the telephone number, and then waited for someone to pick up on the other end of the line. She wouldn’t last a day, let alone a month. He’d seen her type a hundred times. They come to God’s country, looking for a little peace of mind they’d spotted in a travel brochure and complain about how they can’t get the little conveniences of life along with the pleasures of nature. All this trouble and they’d probably turn around and head home in a few days.
Maybe it was just as well, he thought with a sigh as he hung up the line, deciding he wasn’t going to catch Rob Johnson at home today. He didn’t really like the idea of being away from the ranch what with medical bills still pouring in and the balloon payment on the mortgage they’d taken out three years ago to buy the rest of old man Wiltermeir’s property due too soon for him to want to think about. At least if he was here, he’d be on top of whatever crisis came their way. How the hell could he spend a whole month in the mountains when all he’d do is think about whether or not he’d have his ranch to come home to?
He’d called his cousin Joshua Lightfoot, who lived and worked in the clinic on the Wind River Reservation as a doctor, hoping he could recommend some help for the ranch. Joshua was the son of his mother’s sister. She’d married an Arapaho Indian she’d met at the Frontier Days Rodeo around the same time Stoney’s parents met. When they were younger, he and Joshua had traipsed through the wilderness--practically lived in the mountains--until Joshua went to medical school and Stoney started riding rodeo. Although he’d reached Joshua, he was disappointed to learn there wasn’t anyone on the reservation that he could recommend. He’d offer to help himself, but he was tied up getting ready for a new intern who was coming to work at the clinic on the reservation in September.
Frustration surged to the forefront. “All this to turn around and come home in a few days,” he muttered to nobody but himself.
Although Mitch Broader would have been his first choice, Stoney dialed his number last. He hadn’t heard from Mitch since he’d gone back East for his father’s funeral and heard he’d only recently come back to town. He dialed him up on the chance he’d be home.
Mitch had been working at Black Rock as a full time ranch hand for the better part of eight years. He’d grown up in the city and moved out to Wyoming at seventeen when his parents divorced. He’d dodged the gangs that plagued most inner city communities and embraced the simple life once he’d found the serenity of Wyoming’s wide open land. He loved ranching as much as any man with country blood running through his veins. Like many ranch hands Stoney knew, Mitch had talked about one day having a spread of his own.
Stoney owed a tremendous debt to Mitch, one that could never be repaid. It was Mitch who’d been there for his father and pulled him from the barn fire. The beam that fell on Wally could have cost him his life. And Mitch had been there to save him.
Stoney should have been there. It still ate at him that he was out riding rodeo when the barn went up in flames and it seemed all their hopes and dreams had gone up with it. And it killed him that he was going to leave the ranch again.
“Hey, buddy, you made it back,” Stoney said when he recognized Mitch’s voice.
“I almost didn’t. I just got back a few days ago,” Mitch said. “Still have my suitcase full of dirty laundry. What’s up?”
“I need a favor.” Stoney outlined the course of events leading up to Melanie’s offer. And although Mitch’s take on it was one of pure amusement, a kind of “you lucky dog” attitude, he’d agreed to fill in at the ranch, seven days a week, for the next month. Stoney should have felt relieved he was leaving the ranch in good hands, but the feeling of not being there still gnawed at him.
Half an hour later, Stoney found Melanie on the porch, drinking iced tea with his mother and fanning herself from the heat with a folded road map. Adele was beaming with the sheer pleasure of having some female company at the house. It had been a long time since he’d seen her smile that way. If Melanie Summers was responsible for giving her that smile, then he was at least grateful for that.
He cleared his throat and the two women looked up.
Adele rose from the Adirondack chair she’d been sitting in and brushed her hands on the front of her apron. “I’ll let you two get down to your business. Can I get you anything, hon?” she asked Stoney.
He shook his head.
When the screen door closed behind Adele, Stoney turned his attention to Melanie. “You’re in luck. Day after tomorrow we can get started. You can stay here in my sister’s old room until we leave, if you’d like. That is, if you haven't already made other arrangements in town.”
Melanie shook her head, tossing her brown curls back and forth on her rounded shoulders. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Ma will be happy to have some female company for a while. Even if it’s only a day or two.” He pointed to the leather suitcases lined up neatly in a row on the porch. “Let’s see if we can consolidate some of this...stuff.”
Melanie threw him a questioning stare.
“You weren’t planning on taking all this gear.” He said the words as a statement, hoping she understood the meaning.
And she did, he noticed, as a slight blush crept up her cheeks, bringing with it a delicate side that he hadn’t seen until now. “I suppose I won’t be needing all of it,” she said sheepishly.
His insides suddenly felt warm. “Good. Progress. First off, you’re going to need a decent pair of hiking boots.”
He watched her dip her gaze to survey the riding boots she had on. They looked brand spanking new as if she’d gotten them at some flashy store in New York City. The leather was soft and the sole was flat. “What’s wrong with these? I usually use these for riding.”
Figures. Poodle jumps. “We’ll be riding, but they’re no good. Look at the sole. You need something with a good sole for gripping rocks. And you have to be prepared. What if your horse goes lame while we’re up there? You’ll have to walk him easy alongside of you. He won’t be able to take the weight of you on his back. You won’t last an hour hiking in those.”
Awareness sparked in her cinnamon eyes. He wondered just how many men had been unknowingly put under a spell just by gazing into the those eyes. Never mind, he told himself. It was no time to be thinking with any part of his body but the head that held his hat.
“I saw some trail boots at the store.”
He nodded and waved a hand to the rest of the luggage. “As for the rest of this, everything is going to have to stay here unless it is absolutely essential.”
“It is. All of it.”
A grin tugged at his lips and he couldn’t help but tease her. “You do realize a hair dryer isn’t going be much good, seeing there’ll be no electricity.”
She scowled at him, her jaw set. “I suppose one or two bags can stay here.”
“See if you can get it down to one bag. We’ll be needing the room for enough supplies to last us a month.”
She was standing now, balling her f
ists at her side. “I’m not going to wear the same clothes for a month and smell like-”
“Me?” His lips were twisted into a wry grin.
“You said it.”
Damn, but she was pretty when she was all riled up. He resisted the urge to goad her more. “We’ll be camping near a stream or a pond most nights. You can rinse out any unmentionables then and hang them to dry overnight.”
Her cheeks flamed again, as if the thought of her lacy underwear--yes, she was the kind of woman who’d wear lace--hanging on a line in Stoney’s full view was too much. Actually, the thought of seeing a woman as pretty and fine as Melanie Summers out of her underwear was darned appealing. Heat coiled inside him and he blinked hard to rid himself of his thoughts. Had it really been so long since he’d had himself a woman?
She looked as if she were thinking, maybe assessing all the items packed neatly in her designer luggage. “I need two bags.”
“One.”
“Look, I’m compromising here. I won’t take more than what is absolutely necessary, but I do need the two.”
He propped his fists on his hips and heaved an impatient sigh. “I was raised that it was impolite for a man to go searching through a woman’s delicates, but if I have to-”
“I’ll get it down to two small bags!”
My, oh, my what a fire Melanie Summers had bursting through her, Stoney thought with amusement. A ray of sunshine one minute and a wild fire out of control the next. One month alone with nothing but the wide open range and a citified beauty to keep out of a heap of trouble. This ought to be as wild as an eight second ride.
Gerald Hammond's store was located on a downtown main street that looked like most other Main Streets in rural America. Nothing fancy or pretentious about it. Practicality was the name of the game. Where else could you buy a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk along with all the hunting and hiking gear needed to outfit a Boy Scout troop?
“This map lists all the known hot springs up there in the hills,” Hammond was telling Melanie. She leaned her slender body over the counter and looked on with genuine interest. A strand of her dark hair fell forward and dangled between the swells of her breasts. “There’s nothing like taking a dip in one of those springs after a long day in the saddle.”
“Oooh, that sounds so nice,” Melanie said, taking the proffered map.
“Stoney’ll get you there. You be sure to check them out.”
“I will.”
Stoney plopped two pairs of hiking boots on the counter and stared stone-faced at Gerald Hammond. Hammond cleared his throat as he caught the rough edged gaze.
Pushing the shoes in front of Melanie, Stoney said, “There’s a bench over on the far wall back there. One is size seven and a half, the other is eight. Why don’t you try them on and check the fit with some heavy socks and see which is a better fit.”
Melanie gripped both pairs of boots between her fingers and paused just a second to notice the hard look on Stoney’s face. To his relief, she turned on her heels and headed to the back of the store without giving her two cents worth. Maybe she was figuring she’d caused enough trouble. That’ll be the day.
Stoney waited until Melanie was well out of earshot to begin speaking. “We’re not a charity case, Gerald.”
“Now, Stoney, you know how much folks around here look out for each other. Hell, Wally and me use to go fishing through those same mountains when we were barely higher than this counter. Don’t let foolish pride make you spit out honest earned money just because it was fed to ya. It ain’t charity to send money in the direction it can do some good.”
“You knew my father would want me to take this job.”
“Damn straight. You were a solid bull rider on the circuit. I’ll give you that one. But your family needs you on Black Rock. You ain’t gonna to do them any good, especially since your father...”
Stoney felt the pulse in his tightened jaw. “He may not have the use of his legs, but Pop is determined to continue working his ranch.”
Gerald’s face eased. “I’ve known Wally all my life. He’s hard workin’ and he’ll do what he can. But you’re not going to do him any good if some bull does a dance all over your hide again. I know what you’re thinkin’, but rodeo is no way to bail out the ranch. Not this time.”
“I’m not riding every nickel and dime rodeo. Cheyenne has a big purse-”
“Forget Cheyenne!” Gerald said, slamming his fist on the counter. The sound echoed off the walls of the store. The craggy lines in Hammond's worn face deepened, making him look almost frightening. “Aren’t you hearing me, son? You don’t have a whole lot of time to be wasting. There’s no guarantee you’ll get a check just for riding.”
“So you sent me some city woman who’s never stepped foot in the mountains before?”
“It’s been a bad year all around for everyone. Beef prices aren’t getting any higher and what you do get is taken away by the land taxes. What are you going to do? Sell the ranch? Isn’t that the only thing left?”
Stoney fell silent, a vice squeezing his chest. As far as he was concerned, selling off the ranch was the last thing he’d do. And then, only with the last breath he took.
Gerald pointed to the back of the store where Melanie had finished trying on the hiking boots and was now browsing through some paperback books on a metal rack. He kept his voice low. “I think Melanie Summers is the answer to your troubles.”
“I appreciate you thinking of my family, Gerald. Really, I do. But you couldn’t be more wrong.” Stoney glanced back at the store where Melanie lifted her gaze from some book she’d plucked from the stacks. She threw him a sweet smile. That smile alone was enough to ignite a flame in him so strong, he felt his inside burn with desire. A whole month alone with this highfalutin gal wreaking havoc with his peace of mind was going to be torture. He had a whole month ahead of him of trying to remember that he was raised to be a gentleman in the company of a lady. But there was nothing gentlemanly about the way Melanie Summers was stirring his insides. “I’ll bet my last nickel this woman is nothing but trouble.”
* * *
Melanie woke the next morning to the sweet sound of birds singing outside her open window and pots and pans clanking in the kitchen below her bedroom. The plan was for her and Stoney to start out early Saturday morning. Only Melanie wished she didn’t have to wait another whole day to get started.
Hanging around the ranch there wasn’t much chance of someone finding out she’d hired Stoney. The chances of it getting back to her father were slim. But Gerald Hammond seemed to have a penchant for small talk with all the customers who came and went. If her father had enlisted the help of a snooper, then it would only be a matter of time before he tracked her to Black Rock. She wanted to be long gone before that happened, giving him no chance to keep her from going.
She rubbed her eyes as she padded barefoot to the white painted dresser. She was staying in Stoney’s sister Delia’s room. Unlike her bedroom back home, this room didn’t have a private bath. She’d have to be careful with her medical supplies, making sure she didn’t leave them hanging around for someone to see.
Fortunately, she’d gotten use to the routine of pricking her finger each morning to take a sample of blood and testing it with her blood monitoring machine. They’d come a long way in technology since she first found out she was a diabetic at age seven. Back then, everything seemed so scary. Her parents were always on edge about every little sniffle or sneeze she had and made sure she ate like clockwork. They’d even hired a special chef to prepare her meals and snacks.
When Melanie was younger, a visiting nurse administered her insulin. At age ten, she had finally had enough and informed her parents that it was her body. She was going to take care of herself. Of course, they’d fought her on it, like they did every other decision Melanie made to take control of her life. But one day she’d decided enough was enough. She crawled out of bed before her nurse was scheduled to arrive, and she pulled all the supplies out of
the drug closet without anyone noticing. She’d watched the nurse prick her skin, test her blood, and administer the correct dosage hundreds of times, making mental notes on just what to do. When the nurse arrived, she proudly presented her with the empty syringe.
Edmund and Lorna Summers were fit to be tied, but Melanie didn’t care. It was then that she decided she needed to take control of her health and had been taking care of it ever since. Diabetes never got in the way of living as far as she was concerned. It was her parents who’d refused to let her believe she was a normal capable person, despite the fact that she had diabetes. It was the main reason her father fought so hard to keep her from going on the Kenya expedition.
She held the blood machine, which was about the size of a calculator, in the palm of her hand and waited until the machine made its reading. When it was through, she filled the hypodermic needle and pinched the skin on her upper thigh and injected herself.
After carefully putting all the used materials into a plastic bag and packing them in her luggage, she padded to the upstairs bathroom to shower. Twenty minutes later, she skipped downstairs to find Adele making breakfast for the troops.
“There’s fresh coffee,” Adele said as Melanie walked into the kitchen. “Would you like me to get you some?”
“I’d love some. But please don’t feel you have to wait on me. I’m an unexpected guest, and I’d like to be more help than hinder. Especially since I’ll be taking Stoney away from you for the next four weeks.”
Adele smiled warmly. Melanie had the faint feeling there was more behind the smile than mere graciousness. “The cups are in the cabinet over the dishwasher.”
Melanie opened the pine cabinet door, grabbed a mug covered with painted daisies, and poured herself a cup of black coffee. Adele was still busy at the kitchen table, measuring out some dried food into tiny zip lock bags.
Nothing But Trouble Page 3
