The Drifter

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Duane reached in his back pocket for his can of Red Man. “Nope.”

  “We’re shorthanded this afternoon, so someone could have ridden in without being noticed.”

  Chase glanced at her. “Are you saying someone deliberately poisoned the water?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Lots of things been happenin’ around here.” Duane stuck a plug of tobacco under his lower lip.

  Uneasiness rolled in Chase’s stomach. “Like what?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way back,” Leigh said. “Let’s get going.”

  “I’ll drive.”

  She gave him another half smile. “Thanks, my trucker friend. I’d appreciate it this time.”

  * * *

  “OKAY, let’s have it,” he said as they started down the road in her truck. “What’s going on?”

  “I was hoping it was over, but I guess not. Right before you three bought the ranch from the Colorado corporation, we were plagued with all sorts of accidents—leaking stock tanks, cattle tangled in barbed wire, stuff like that. Then there was that stampede the day you arrived. Freddy and Ry were almost killed.”

  “And we found out the gate had been accidentally left open. People make mistakes.” Boy, did he ever know the truth of that one.

  “Ry still thinks Duane might have had something to do with that stampede.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  Leigh sighed. “I can’t believe it, either. But I have to admit he might have a reason. He knows you guys are thinking about selling the ranch to developers. That would put an end to a way of life for Duane, not to mention screw up the breeding program he’s conducting on the side, using True Love land. If the accidents drive you away, or at least devalue the property so you can’t get a decent price, things might not change for him. And, after all, it was his herd that made up the stampede.”

  “But Duane wouldn’t poison a horse trough.”

  “Well, Eb Whitlock is always another possibility. He still wants the ranch. And Ry even suspects Belinda.”

  Chase gave her a startled glance. “Belinda? Why in hell would he be suspicious of Belinda?”

  “Because she’s so protective of Dexter. Ry thinks she’d do anything to keep him sitting safely on that front porch. She hates the idea of your selling to developers. So do I, for that matter.”

  Chase fought panic. “But if we don’t sell the ranch, we won’t make the profit Ry told us about.”

  “Oh, come on, Chase! Do you mean to tell me you’re still interested in getting rich? I’ve seen how you react to this place. You love it!”

  He became aware of a hollow ache in the vicinity of his heart. “I’ve trained myself not to love any place too much.”

  Leigh was silent for a long moment. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” she murmured said at last.

  * * *

  DESPITE HER CONVICTION that she wouldn’t sleep, Amanda eventually drifted off. She awoke feeling cozy, a remarkable feat considering the snake episode, she thought. Bartholomew remained asleep, and she enjoyed the luxury of washing her face and deciding what to wear to dinner without carrying a baby around while she did it. Chloe stayed at her post, merely lifting her head when Amanda walked past to open the suitcases.

  She’d brought one pair of designer jeans and she decided on a white silk blouse that was tailored enough to be almost western in style. And she wouldn’t make the mistake of wearing nylons with her sandals this time.

  She barely made it through dressing before Bartholomew woke up, a little before six. He didn’t seem particularly interested in nursing, so she changed him, put him in the infant seat and started out the door, with Chloe at her side. Then she paused. Beside the door sat a pair of boots, very nice brown leather boots, with a note tucked in the shank of one.

  Belinda said you might be able to use these and figured we were about the same size. You’re welcome to borrow them during your stay.Leigh Singleton.

  Amanda glanced from her open-toed sandals to the boots. Leigh’s boots. Fantastic Leigh, who could read minds and had massaged Chase to health. Then Amanda gave herself a mental shake, feeling thoroughly ashamed of herself. Despite the fact she’d had Chase’s baby, she’d relinquished all claim to him. What kind of woman discarded a man yet resented his attention to someone else? Amanda knew what kind, and it rhymed with witch.

  She took the boots inside and changed out of her sandals. They were a perfect fit. As she walked to the main house with the boots lending her added height and Chloe trotting by her side, she almost felt as if she belonged at the True Love Ranch.

  Retracing the path she’d taken with Belinda, she entered the patio through a back gate. Dexter sat in a shady corner across the pool, his walker by his side along with a dish of dog food. Chloe’s head went up and her nose twitched. She glanced at Amanda.

  “Go ahead,” Amanda said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Chloe bounded toward Dexter, who greeted her with such affection that Amanda felt guilty about borrowing the dog for the night. But not guilty enough to refuse. Chloe would bring greater safety to Bartholomew, and that was Amanda’s first priority. She waved at Dexter. “Thanks for loaning me your dog.”

  “Yep.”

  “Aren’t you coming in to dinner?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, I’m starved,” she said. “See you later.”

  “Yep.”

  The dining room was bustling, with Ry and Freddy at the center of all the activity. Amanda slipped in unnoticed and chose a table by herself, figuring the wedding guests, none of whom had brought children, would prefer not to have a baby around during their meal. She propped Bartholomew’s infant seat on the chair next to her and gave her order to the young waiter who’d appeared.

  Ry and Freddy had pushed three tables together to accommodate their crowd of well-wishers. Bartholomew dozed in his infant seat, so Amanda amused herself by figuring out who was who. The man who seemed to be an older version of Ry was definitely his father, but from body-language clues Amanda decided the woman with the elder McGuinnes wasn’t Ry’s mother. Ry was much more affectionate with another woman in her sixties, who sat with a different man. Divorced parents, Amanda concluded. After that, she had more trouble sorting out who might be friends, siblings or in-laws. Chase was nowhere around.

  But Ry and Freddy had definitely made up. Wistfully, Amanda observed their affectionate interplay.

  “How are the boots?”

  Amanda turned to find a stunning blonde standing next to her table. Soft brown eyes with a hint of mystery complemented a face that would have delighted the Renaissance masters, Amanda concluded. “You must be Leigh.” She stood and extended her hand. “Thanks for the boots. They fit as if they were made for me.”

  “How lucky.” Leigh smiled and glanced over at Bartholomew. “Sweet baby.”

  On cue, Bartholomew began to fuss.

  “He’s probably hungry,” Amanda said, reaching for him. “His timing leaves much to be desired.”

  “Since your dinner’s not here, why don’t you feed him?”

  Amanda was taken aback. “Oh, I think this is too public a place. I can walk over to the cottage.”

  “Nonsense. Nursing is a natural part of life. If anyone’s sensibilities are disturbed, that’s their problem. Besides, if I sit here and screen you from view, nobody will even notice. Go ahead.”

  “Well...okay.” Amanda hadn’t yet nursed Bartholomew in a restaurant setting, and she felt self-conscious, but Leigh’s comments made sense. As unobtrusively as possible, she unfastened the first few buttons of her blouse, unhooked the cup of her nursing bra, and guided Bartholomew to her nipple. She glanced at Leigh, who watched with a gentle smile. “Thank you for your understanding.”

  “If he’s a typical little Taurus, food is very important to him.”

  Amanda laughed. “I read that. And so far it’s really true. I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t turn into a little chu
b.”

  “I doubt he will. Neither you or his father—” Leigh paused. “Sorry. Maybe you’d rather I not talk about Chase.”

  “I’d...rather you did. I think I’ve handled the matter of Chase poorly. Maybe you can help me.”

  “I can try.” Leigh glanced over Amanda’s shoulder. “Excuse me a minute.” She rose from her seat and intercepted the waiter who approached with Amanda’s dinner. He headed back toward the kitchen. “I told him to keep it warm for five minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Amanda decided Chase was a lucky man to have found someone as thoughtful as Leigh. She was determined to be happy for him, even though it hurt—unreasonable though that might be—to think of him making love to someone else.

  Leigh resumed her seat. “First of all, what do you want from Chase?”

  “Just his family’s medical history, so I can be prepared for anything.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Absolutely, Leigh. Don’t think I’m any threat to you. Once I have the information, I’ll disappear with Bartholomew and—”

  “Whoa! Back that pony up a minute. Threat to me?”

  “Not that you’re acting threatened,” Amanda hurried on. “In fact, you’re being far more generous than I would be in similar circumstances. I think Chase is very lucky to have someone like you.”

  Leigh grinned. “You think Chase and I are lovers, don’t you?”

  “You’re not?”

  “I know it’s hard to believe, given that Chase is a very sexy-looking guy, but the chemistry isn’t there between us. He’s like the brother I never had, and to his great surprise, he thinks of me as a sister. Neither of us would dream of jeopardizing that.”

  “Oh.”

  “You should see the relieved look on your face, Amanda. Are you sure you came out here just for a medical history?”

  Amanda looked away. Bartholomew seemed to be losing interest in nursing, so she nudged him away from her breast and concentrated on refastening her clothes. “It wouldn’t work,” she said finally, glancing up at Leigh. She placed a napkin over her shoulder and held Bartholomew there while she patted his back. “I’ve finally established myself in the New York advertising world. In my spare time I enjoy concerts and gallery openings, or discovering new ethnic restaurants. Can you picture Chase living that kind of life?”

  “No.”

  “Then there’s the extra psychological baggage of getting to know each other when a baby is already part of the equation. I don’t think any relationship should begin under that kind of pressure.”

  “Probably not, but we live in an imperfect world.” Leigh turned as the waiter arrived with Amanda’s dinner. “Why don’t you let me hold Bartholomew while you eat?”

  Amanda tensed. “I couldn’t impose on you like that. I can just put him in his seat.”

  “Where he may or may not want to stay. Let me take him. If you knew me better, you’d realize that I don’t offer to do things I don’t want to do.”

  Amanda gazed at her steaming plate of barbecued ribs and realized she’d need both hands if she intended to do the meal justice. And she was starving. “Okay. Bring him back if he’s any trouble.” She placed Bartholomew in Leigh’s outstretched arms.

  “Oh, we won’t have any trouble, will we, Bartholomew?” Leigh smiled down at the baby. “Come and tell Auntie Leigh all your secrets.”

  Amanda watched in wonder, and more than a little jealousy, as Bartholomew smiled back at Leigh. So far, he’d reserved that expression for Dexter and Leigh. Amanda might not fit in at the True Love, but her son seemed to be a natural.

  “Now, dive into those ribs,” Leigh said and carried Bartholomew away.

  Amanda fought a moment of panic. No one had ever taken her baby away from her before. Her mother wasn’t the type to take charge of a squalling infant, and her friends had apparently sensed Amanda’s proprietary attitude toward her baby and hadn’t reached for him, either. Amanda had been just as glad. Deep down, she believed that if she allowed Bartholomew out of her sight, something terrible would happen to him. It wasn’t a rational belief, and she’d have to conquer it if she expected to continue her career, but she wasn’t always rational when it came to her son.

  Leaving her plate untouched, she craned her neck to see what Leigh was doing with the baby. Showing him off, apparently. Leigh circled the large table of wedding guests, presenting Bartholomew to them all as if he were an heir to the throne. Bartholomew seemed to love it.

  “I take it he doesn’t get out much.”

  Startled, she looked up into Chase’s green eyes, and her heart began to race. “He’s only two months old, after all,” she said. “Time enough for him to become a party animal.”

  “He already has it down. Look at him waving his arms around.”

  Amanda glanced in Leigh’s direction and laughed. “You’re right. He seems to love the attention. See how he tried to grab that napkin?”

  “He almost got it, too. The kid’s got fast hands.”

  “Maybe he’ll grow up to be a magician.” Amanda realized they sounded like fond parents at a family gathering. It gave her a disturbingly nice feeling.

  Chase turned his back on the scene. “Your dinner’s getting cold. And Belinda makes a mighty fine barbecue sauce. Some say Eb Whitlock’s is better, but I vote for Belinda’s.”

  “How about you?” She looked up at him. “Have you eaten?”

  “Is that an invitation to sit down?”

  “Um, sure.”

  Chase tipped his hat. “Thank you, ma’am.” Then he pulled out the chair next to her where Leigh had recently sat and levered his lanky frame into it. “Did you get some rest?”

  “Yes, I did.” Amanda picked up her knife and fork and began separating the ribs before she attempted to carve off a piece of meat.

  “I hope you’re going to use your fingers on those. This isn’t the Plaza, you know.”

  Amanda surveyed her plate and regarded her white silk blouse with grave doubt.

  “Here’s how you handle that problem.” Chase took a napkin from the other side of the table, snapped it open and tucked it deftly into the vee of her blouse.

  The brush of his fingers against her cleavage lasted a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to remember that was exactly how he’d begun touching her that fateful night. He’d taken her hand and led her back to the bed built in behind the seats. Then he’d kissed her, taking his time. After all, there was no rush. Almost lazily he’d brushed his knuckles against the vee of her blouse, a blouse like this one, before he’d slipped the first button from its hole...

  Shaken, she gazed at him.

  His eyes reflected the flame blazing in hers. “God, Amanda,” he murmured.

  6

  HER HEART RACING, Amanda averted her gaze.

  Chase’s voice was gentle. “You can’t wipe out what happened between us, can you?”

  She shook her head.

  “If it’s any comfort to you, neither can I,” he said. “Now, eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

  She did, because it was the only way she could demonstrate that she’d gained a measure of control. And she used her fingers.

  Chase’s plate arrived, and he tucked his napkin into the neck of his shirt, gave her a wry smile and began his own meal. A couple of times she sneaked a look at him, and he seemed to be enjoying the food. He polished off a rib and licked his fingers. She remembered all too well how that agile tongue had felt when he’d...

  She couldn’t think about that. “This is very good,” she said in an almost-normal tone.

  “Told you so.”

  “Did you have any luck calling today?”

  His jaw tightened just a little. “Didn’t have time. Leigh needed me to—ah—do some work down at the corrals. By the way, she also said she loaned you some boots. Want to take a ride tomorrow?”

  “I could be leaving tomorrow if your phone calls go well tonight.”

  “Maybe, but if not, you should see
some of the country.”

  The invitation beckoned, and she fought the sinful temptation to spend the day alone with Chase. “I can’t go. Don’t forget about Bartholomew.”

  “That’s not likely.” He pulled his napkin from his shirt and wiped his hands. “But I’ll bet we have something around here we could use to carry him in.”

  “No. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I doubt it.” Chase leaned back in his chair. “Besides, don’t you need some tourist-type stories to tell your friends back in New York? Otherwise they’ll wonder what you spent your time doing out here. You said you wanted to see the saguaros.”

  “I saw a bunch of them on the way here today.”

  “Looking out the window of a van is no way to appreciate the desert.” He paused. “But then, maybe you don’t know how to ride.”

  “I can ride.” She’d once had her own horse, a gorgeous Thoroughbred named Sultan. Her parents still had the ribbons and trophies she and Sultan had won. “I just don’t think it’s safe to take Bartholomew on a—”

  “Let me check into it.” He tossed his napkin on the table and pushed his chair back. “I saw Leigh heading into the kitchen. She and Belinda might have an idea how we could transport him. And by the way, when you’re ready, I’ll walk you back over to the cottage.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  He hesitated. “Snakes come out at twilight, Amanda.”

  She stared at him and shuddered.

  “I’m sorry if that scares you. But the more you understand the dangers, the safer you’ll be, just like in the city. And personally, I’d rather watch out for these kind of snakes than the two-legged ones that live in New York.”

  She tossed her head. “I’m not afraid in New York.”

  “You should be.” He stood, a flash of anger in his eyes. “The next guy who hauls you out of a snowbank might not have the good manners to ask before he pulls your clothes off.”

  * * *

  CHASE WALKED toward the kitchen where he’d seen Leigh and Bartholomew go through the door a moment ago. He wasn’t often so short-tempered, but it had been a long time since he’d felt this level of frustration, this much lack of control over his destiny.