Nothing But Trouble

by Lisa Mondello

  One thing was good about Stoney’s distant behavior. Melanie found it easy to hide her diabetes from him. Although she’d felt a pang or two of guilt for not letting him in on such an important secret, she’d quickly brushed the feeling aside. She was in control. She'd packed her saddlebag with all her medical supplies; she felt safer having them close by during their ride. If she got lightheaded and shaky before she was able to eat a full meal, she knew how to take care of herself.

  Each day Stoney pushed on longer and longer into the day until they would finally stop and set up camp as the sun sank low over the mountains. Today was no different. But it was also the first day they’d spent riding during a thunderstorm. Melanie was still soaked from her ponytail to her wool socks, and the thought of spending one more second in the saddle was torture.

  They reached a stretch of pasture near a small stream just as the sun was passing through a patch of clouds. She shivered as a gust of wind lifted the edges of her rain poncho and decided enough was enough.

  “This is as good a place as any to set up camp for tonight,” she called out to him.

  Stoney twisted in the saddle and looked at her beneath the rim of his cowboy hat. He was about to protest. Melanie was certain of it. But to her great relief, he just nodded. She could see by the way fatigue pulled at his features that the day had taken quite a toll on him as well.

  * * *

  Stoney climbed down from the saddle and stretched out the aches in his back. “I guess you’re right. It’s been a long day,” he said. He pulled off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as he released the horses. They quickly found their way to the water’s edge.

  Relief seemed to wash over Melanie as she dismounted. She was exhausted, no doubt. And so was he. Four days of non-stop riding in the saddle normally wouldn't be a big deal for him, but lack of good sleep made it hard for him to keep it up. Melanie wasn't use to it, but she'd given her best without any complaints. She’d earned his respect for that at least.

  What was he doing this for anyway? If he had any sense at all, he’d call off this whole excursion. He was needed at the Black Rock. Not knowing what was happening was killing him. But he’d given his word, not only to Melanie but to his family. They were counting on him, and he couldn’t let them down. Not this time. If you couldn’t count a man’s word as good, then what did he have left?

  When the horses were watered and secured in the picket near a grassy area, Stoney reached for the hatchet. It had become a routine, almost like one married couples fall into after a time. Melanie would set up the camp stove and tents while he searched the area for fallen tree limbs. There was always plenty of wood to clean the forest and no need to cut down any fresh branches. It was important to him to keep their camping as low-impact as possible. He’d even insisted Melanie set up her tent on a flat rock to keep from digging stakes into the soft ground and flattening the ground beneath it. That had gone over real well, he thought wryly.

  He returned to camp with a heavy load of wood filling his arms and immediately noticed that the quiet routine he’d come to rely on had been broken. Everything was the same as it was when he’d gone off into the pines. The tents were still rolled and packed away, along with the camp stove, and all the gear needed for cooking their supper. And Melanie was nowhere to be found.

  “What now?” he moaned, searching the area for Melanie.

  He dropped the stack of pine logs he’d spent the last twenty minutes hacking away at and scanned the area until his eyes zeroed in on her.

  Melanie was crouched down on the other side of a large boulder, the tips of her boots touching the edge of the stream, her face lifted slightly like a woman would when she was anticipating her lover’s kiss. She dipped her fingers into the stream and splashed a small bit of water on her face before feathering her wet fingers through her dark hair. She’d taken her ponytail down and the crease her hairband had made in her hair was clearly visible in the dying light. And she was talking softly.

  Stoney moved closer, but far enough away on the other side of the boulder for her not to hear his approach. She was beautiful, and every bit of that beauty caused his blood pressure to creep higher and higher. The backdrop of her soft voice seemed out of place with the thunderous sound of his heartbeat in his ear.

  He listened, knowing he shouldn’t. He could scare her if she suddenly turned to find him there. But he liked the sexy sound of her voice, and he was just masochistic enough to want to torture himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d had beautiful women before, but he'd never been drawn to a woman this way.

  “So what do you think, Dolly?” he heard Melanie say. “Maybe we could head out alone tomorrow and find a nice hot spring to take a bath in. I could sure use one to ease the aches out of my bones. We can even leave old grumpy Stoney behind for the day. Wouldn’t that be heavenly?”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” Stoney ground out, realizing for the first time she’d been talking to the horse—a damned horse!—about taking off alone.

  The sharp edge of his voice apparently startled her. Melanie snapped her head in his direction, eyes wide like a rabbit caught in a snare, before she fell on her backside on the muddy bank of the stream.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “How long have you been talking to horses?”

  She made a face. “They’re nicer than people sometimes. They don’t talk back but at least they don’t ignore me, either.”

  “Is that what you feel I’ve been doing?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” She was standing now, brushing her hand across her derriere in a way that made his body tighten. Fleeting thoughts of his hands massaging the soft swells of her bare behind invaded his mind. Lord, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “The gear hasn’t been unloaded,” he said accusingly, hearing the clipped tone of his voice. Anger. That was the only way to keep these feelings at bay. It was a strong as his desire, but much more productive in this situation. “There isn’t going to be any supper unless you pull your share of the load. I don’t care how tired you are. We don’t get to relax until the work is done.”

  Her expression was one of shock, and he immediately regretted the harshness of his words. He wasn’t being fair to her. He hadn’t had to say anything twice. No, she hadn’t been knowledgeable about the ways of camping and trailing when they’d first set out, but she’d met the challenge head on, and he had nothing but admiration for her for that.

  Melanie didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Her face said it all. She hated him. And at that moment he didn’t much blame her.

  She stalked past him, glaring at him with her full lips pouting and her movements stiff. She ripped the tent out of the vinyl bag and began erecting it on a flat grassy section. Stoney knew what she was thinking. The bent grass would be a soft cushion beneath her sleeping bag and provide a better night’s sleep than sleeping on the flat boulder he insisted they sleep on last night.

  He wanted to go to her. Not to tell her not to set the tent up on the grass and leave a print on the untouched earth. He wanted to go to her and take back all his harshness, all his anger. And he wanted to kiss her full lips until she smiled like she had that day in the meadow. He didn’t think he could ever get enough of her sunshine face.

  Instead, he turned in the direct of the wood pile and began pulling out small pieces of wood to add to the camp stove. He had to keep his mind focused on something other than Melanie.

  She held on to her anger all through dinner, not giving him so much as a cursory look. Stoney figured it was just as well. He was liable to make things worse. They were only four days into this month-long trip and already he felt like he’d spent a lifetime trying to contain his urges. He’d been a horse’s ass, but it was better than letting himself fall into manure.

  When dinner was through, Stoney built a fire out of kindling and the paper goods that packaged their rations. It was a good way to get rid of the lingering smell of food so a
s not to attract animals to the camp. Melanie filled a pot of water and set it on the camp stove, still hot from cooking dinner, to heat water to wash their plates and cooking utensils.

  The sounds of the night filled the air around them. He could hear the music of crickets and frogs calling nearby. This was the time of the day he loved the most, when everything was calm and serene. But inside Stoney was anything but.

  “I’ll do the dishes,” she said, dropping dishes into the warm water she’d prepared.

  “Make sure you don’t dump the water-” he started to say, but Melanie cut him off.

  Melanie threw down the pan and propped her fists on her hips. She’d had enough of Stoney’s arrogance to last ten lifetimes. “Are you through?”

  Stoney lifted himself from his sitting position on the ground and took a step closer. Four days ago she would have been intimidated by his presence. Right now, she was boiling over too hot to care.

  “I’ve been doing the dishes for four days. I think I know by now not to toss the dirty water back into the stream.”

  His face was hard, but his eyes belied his scowl. In them, she saw something softer. She’d caught him staring at her more than once, his features calm and serene, only to have his expression turn to stone when he realized she was looking. It was if he was angry with her, and he didn’t want to be.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m done being your punching bag. If you didn’t want to take this job, you should have told me and saved us both a whole lot of grief. Whatever reasons you have for deciding to take my offer are your own. But you don’t have to take your foul mood out on me.”

  “Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”

  “That and a whole lot more. Stoney Buxton you’ve pushed me, prodded me, barked at me until I can’t stand it anymore. I’m tired. Not only from the long ride, cold baths, and bugs swarming everywhere, but of trying to keep up with you long enough to get you to believe that I can really hack this.” She took a fortifying breath and brushed her hair away from her face with both hands. She charged forward and poked him in the chest. “Well, I’m tired of it. You can push me all you want, but as of this moment, I’m pushing back. You don’t have to like me to get through the next month. I don’t care if you detest the site of me. But I was hoping that at least we could find some common ground long enough to have a peaceful evening.”

  She heard the loud pounding of her heartbeat in her ear as she waited for the backlash. With her father, it would have been immediate. She stood her ground and waited, but the battle never came.

  Stoney looked at her for a long agonizing moment, regret etched in his features. “You’ve got it all wrong, Sunshine,” he said in a low voice. Turning away from her, he grabbed the hatchet by the fire and started walking out into the darkness.

  Her bottom lip started to tremble. Damn, she didn't want to cry, but the tears were already coming. “Where are you going?” she called out.

  He didn’t say anything. He just kept walking until she couldn’t see him any longer.

  Picking up the pan and dunking it in the water, Melanie fought to see the basin of soapy water through her tears as she scrubbed the pot. Damn Stoney Buxton. Damn her for caring so much. What was it about this man that drove her insane? She’d met challenge head on her whole life. But with him, she just felt like a failure. Did he want to see her fail? Would that prove to him that he was right about her all along?

  She sniffed back a few tears and chided herself silently for them. She wouldn’t give Stoney the satisfaction of getting her down. She’d come to Wyoming with one thing on her agenda. But now she realized there was more she’d been seeking. She’d been in search of the freedom she never had in her life back in Long Island. Something about the Wyoming mountains felt like home to her. She felt like she belonged here. Why couldn’t Stoney see that?

  When she was finished drying the dishes and putting them back in the pack, she found a spot to dump the basin of dirty water. She was physically and emotionally drained, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into a warm bed on a nice firm mattress with cool crisp sheets. She’d settle for her bedroll and decided that she wasn’t going to notice the difference given her fatigue.

  She wasn’t sure just how long Stoney had been gone. As she placed her wet clothes by the fire to dry overnight, her imagination began to run away from her. The sounds of the forest were soothing during the day, but alone at night, everything seemed ominous. She recalled a story she’d read in the newspaper a few years back about a hiker who’d been attacked by a mountain lion while he camped. They’d taken all the necessary precautions by tying their food pack in a tree far enough away from their campsite and burning all the package remains in the campfire.

  Stoney was out somewhere in the forest. She wanted him to come back. Not just because she was alone. His aloof behavior for the past few days made her feel like she was alone with the horses anyway. But she wanted him there with her. No matter how much they fought, she felt safer with Stoney, as if nothing could touch her if he was with her.

  The higher elevation lent itself to colder nights. She stoked the fire, wishing she had a big log to put on it instead of small twigs. Stoney had taken the hatchet when he’d stormed off. Although she didn’t hear him, no doubt he was out combing the woods for more downed tree limbs.

  When he finally returned to camp, he had an armful of wood. Without a word, he dropped the logs and kindling to the side of the campfire and added a few pieces until the fire came to a roaring flame.

  Melanie welcomed the heat, but she welcomed his presence more. He didn’t say a word, and she finally decided she was too tired to try anymore. She lifted to her feet, rubbing her hands together near the fire once more before turning to the tent.

  “Goodnight.”

  Stoney grasped her hand and swung her around to face him as she moved past. She glanced up and saw the same war raging in him that she’d been battling the past few days. “I haven’t been fair to you,” he began. “I didn’t know how to handle the way I’ve been feeling, so I took my frustration out on you. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

  She was still hurt and angry and didn’t want to take his apology. “If you didn’t want to come, then why are you here?”

  He let go of her arm. “I had no choice.”

  She gave a wry laugh. “Like I could make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

  “We lost more than the barn in that fire.” He didn’t look at her. In a man like Stoney, pride ran deep. Showing any signs of fear was something she suspected was a rarity for him. He was strong, in physical form and in his integrity. As hard as he was on her these last few days, she suspected that maybe he was harder on himself.

  Right now, he was vulnerable, and he was scared.

  “We’d just taken out a mortgage and bought the acreage adjoining our property. I’d sunk every nickel of my rodeo winnings into the deal and borrowed the rest, hoping to expand the ranch. In short, we were in debt up to our eyeballs.” He swallowed hard. “And then the fire...”

  She reached out and touched his arm, feeling his muscles flex beneath her fingers. But he didn’t move away. “Is that how your father got hurt?”

  He nodded once. “It was a spontaneous combustion fire. It doesn’t take much once hay and dry wood start burning. The horses were in the stables and Pop ran in to open the stalls, trying to get them free. That’s when one of the beams collapsed on him. Mitch was there. Thank God, he was there. He dragged him out just in time. The barn was gone.”

  Tears filled Melanie’s eyes, and a chill raced up her spine. “That’s horrible.”

  He stood tall and cleared his throat. “Yeah. While I was getting up and wiping my hat off after getting thrown around in some muddy arena, Pop was being told he’d never get up and walk again. Never ride again.”

  She gasped softly. “Surely you don’t blame yourself.”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t there. I should have been there for m
y father. Instead I was out doing the one thing they didn't want me to do. I was riding rodeo.”

  “No one knows when something like that will happen. How could being there have made a difference?”

  “That's what I keep asking myself. It would have been different. The fire would have started anyway. I'm not saying I could have changed something like that. But I wasn't home. I'd convinced myself that money I was making rodeoing was helping the ranch. I was the one who pushed for the expansion. I was the one who was so sure I'd win enough money to keep us in the black. I left all the work for Mitch and Pop.”

  She saw his jaw tighten as if he were fighting to hang on the last bit of his emotion.

  “I might not have been able to have stopped Pop from getting hurt, but at least I would have been there instead of hearing by telegram that my father was laid up in a hospital.”

  “That must have been hard for you.”

  He closed his eyes and exhaled a slow breath. “Not as hard as it is for Pop.”

  “I don’t blame you for not wanting to leave him now.”

  “It was going to happen either way. It was either a rodeo or here. Mom has a hard time with me going back to rodeo, so...”

  “All this time I thought you were acting this way because you hated me,” she said quietly.

  He rolled his eyes and gave a wry laugh. “I don’t hate you. My Lord, Melanie, this would be a hell of a lot easier if I did.”

  Her eyes widened. “Then what? What has all this between us been about?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t go there. Just leave it alone.”

  “Why? If we’re going to be in each other’s back pockets for the next month, we need to get this out in the open.”

  “Some things are better left unsaid.”