The Drifter

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  The trouble was, when she opened the gate and stepped through, with moonlight gilding her hair as she glanced around for him, he no longer wanted to talk. “Over here,” he said, his voice stretched as tight as the fabric of his jeans. He stepped from the shadows and she came toward him, moving quickly.

  When she was within reach, he pulled her close with a groan, his mouth seeking hers. He thought his chest would explode when he realized she was grabbing at him with an equal hunger, her fingers digging into his back, her pelvis pushing hard against his erection.

  He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, the curve of her throat. “I need you, Amanda.”

  “I need you, too,” she whispered desperately. “Why did you get so angry with me this morning?”

  “It was stupid.” He leaned down and kissed the swell of her breasts above the scooped neckline of her dress. “When you told me how good I was, I thought you only wanted me for sex, like every other woman I’ve ever taken to bed.”

  “Oh, Chase.” There was amusement in her voice as she stroked his hair. “You thought I considered you a sex object?”

  “Something like that.” He unfastened the top two buttons of her dress and slipped his hand beneath her bra.

  “And you wanted me to think of you as more than that.”

  “Yes. I—” As he stroked her warm breast heavy with milk, he lost his train of thought and picked up a new one. “Ah, Amanda, you feel like silk. Let’s forget about the reception. I’ll get Bart and we can head back to the cottage.”

  She arched against his palm. “What if I feel like a sex object?”

  “It’s not like that, and you know it.”

  “I do?” she said softly.

  His hand stilled and he gazed into her eyes. “I don’t know if I can be any good at this, but I...want to work something out. I want to be with you...somehow.”

  “That’s an interesting thought.” Her lips curved. “Half-formed, but interesting.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” He massaged her breast and leaned down to nibble at the corner of her mouth. “Now let’s go get Bart and head for the cottage so we can work out the details.”

  “You know if we do that we won’t work out any details, and we have so much to talk about, so much we don’t know about each other.” She slipped her fingers under the chain around his neck. “Like this. Where did you get it?”

  He lifted his head to gaze down at her. “Not from some other lover, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Considering your independent nature, I didn’t think so, either. Did the medallion belong to your mother?”

  He released her and stepped back, suddenly wary. “Why?”

  “Because if it did, I might know where it came from. My mother has one just like it. It was a citizenship award in eighth grade from a school in Brooklyn. She told me once that there’s also a plaque at the school with the name of everyone who’s ever won that award.”

  His chest tightened. When he was younger, he’d wondered what the little medallion meant and why his mother’s name was inscribed on the back, but as he’d grown older, he’d just accepted it as the only part of her he had left. At fifteen, he’d bought a chain for it and he’d become so used to feeling its weight around his neck, he’d forgotten it was there.

  When he started to speak, he realized his throat had seized up on him. He cleared it and tried again. “I...I guess that would be nice to know. Where it came from, I mean.”

  She grabbed his arm. “It could mean more than that. Maybe that school is a place to start, a way to find her.”

  He glanced away from the excitement in her expression. “Maybe. I know you want the information for Bart’s sake, but I—”

  “I want it for your sake.”

  That got his attention. “Me? Why me?”

  “Chase, you didn’t come from nowhere. You have grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. You have family. Everyone does. Some good, some bad. One of my great-grandfathers was a horse thief. So what? That doesn’t mean I’m a horse thief. The point is, you have connections. We should find them.”

  He drew her slowly back into his arms. “We?”

  “I want to help.”

  “You might not like what you find.”

  “You weren’t listening. You’re not responsible for what’s in your family tree. But wouldn’t it be nice to know you had one?”

  The concept was a little mind-boggling, and he was pretty sure if they located his mother it wouldn’t be a pretty sight, but she looked so happy about the prospect of digging into his background he decided to go along with it. “Sure. Sure it would.” He leaned closer, needing her lips against his. “Now, let’s—”

  “Wait. I have to ask you something else.”

  “Remind me never to give you a whole day to think about things.”

  She looked up at him earnestly. “Is there a problem here at the True Love?”

  “Yes. Too damn many activities, when all I want to do is this.” His mouth descended again.

  She leaned away from his kiss. “I’m serious. Duane hinted at some trouble but he said you should be the one to tell me.”

  Thanks, Duane. Great timing. He sighed. Then he cupped her face in his hands and gazed down at her. “I don’t know if there’s trouble or not. We’ve had some incidents.”

  Anxiety shone in her eyes. “Like what?” she asked.

  “Most of it’s the sort of thing you could expect around a ranch. Stock tank leaks, breaks in the fence, gates left open. But the morning you got here, somebody contaminated the water in the horse troughs. Thank God we discovered it before any horses got sick. And then there was the food poisoning. Ry doesn’t think that was an accident, either.”

  Amanda’s eyes were wide. “Duane found a burr under Red Devil’s bridle when he turned him into the corral. Duane thinks it was put there on purpose, to louse up the wedding.”

  “Or maybe one of the hands screwed up,” Chase said.

  “What about the snake?”

  “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “Why not? If someone wants to ruin the True Love’s reputation or bring down the property’s value, all of that makes sense. Would anyone have reason to want the True Love to go under?”

  Chase released her again and rubbed the back of his neck. A headache was lodging at the base of his skull. That indicated tension, which could bring on a back spasm. And the way the party was going, he wouldn’t be swimming laps tonight. “The three of us, Ry, me and Joe Gilardini, the cop, bought this place as an investment, figuring to sell it in a couple of years to developers.”

  Amanda drew in a sharp breath. “Do Freddy and Leigh know that? Does Belinda?”

  Chase nodded. “Nobody liked the idea when they heard it. There’s a steady campaign to get each of us to change our mind and become a gentleman rancher, instead. But Ry thinks somebody is going beyond that to outright sabotage. If the ranch isn’t worth much, we might sell just to get out from under. Then someone else, someone who wants to keep it as a ranch, could buy it.”

  Amanda shivered. “If someone could be hurt, or worse, I say let them have the ranch, whoever they are, if they’re that desperate.”

  Chase was amazed at how he rebelled at that idea. “In the first place, we don’t know who’s doing it, and in the second place, speaking for Ry and me, we’re not about to give up the True Love that easy.”

  “I thought you planned to sell it to developers eventually, anyway.”

  Chase massaged his neck and chuckled, mostly at himself. “Yeah, that’s the way it was supposed to work.”

  “You don’t want to sell, do you?”

  It was an interesting question, and Chase didn’t have the answer yet. “I guess that depends. There’s a little more to the decision now than there was a few days ago. When I think of you and Bart, I have to consider the money angle. As a guest ranch, the True Love hasn’t ever made a lot of money.”

  She cocked her head and gazed at him. �
��Then I guess this is the perfect time to tell you my idea. It finally hit me that cowboys are all the rage right now. If you come back to New York with me, I could set up modeling agency interviews. I know this business, Chase, and with that cowboy look you’ve developed, you’d be making more money than you ever dreamed of in no time at all.” She paused. “And we could be together, which is something you said you wanted.”

  He stared at her and wondered if maybe he’d misunderstood. “This isn’t a cowboy look, Amanda. This is what I am, now. It’s what I was meant to be, I think, even when I was driving truck.”

  “Exactly! So you’re authentic, and that would shine through in the ads. You’d be a huge success, Chase. I’ve been watching the way you move, and you’d be a natural in front of the camera. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

  He couldn’t believe that such a warm, sexy woman could come up with such a harebrained idea. Rounding up members of his family tree he could go along with, but parading around in front of a camera pretending to be a cowboy instead of being out here on the ranch actually living that life would be the worst kind of hell he could imagine. Couldn’t she see that? “It’s not for me, Amanda.”

  She looked as if he’d slapped her. “You’re rejecting the idea just like that? Without thinking about it?”

  “Doesn’t take much time to think about an idea like that. I’d hate it.”

  She spoke slowly, carefully. “Then what did you think we would do?”

  And he saw it all very clearly, then. She’d come up with that plan because it would allow her to stay in her world and make him an acceptable part of it, in the bargain. He wouldn’t be a trucker or a cowboy tied to some ranch in the middle of nowhere, he’d be a celebrity model. A prize. He shook his head. “God knows, Amanda. Certainly not anything like that.”

  “Then what?” she persisted. “Both of us stay here and watch this ranch go down the tubes? From what you’ve said, this is a very risky venture, with saboteurs lurking in the wings. Is that what you want for yourself? For me and your son?”

  She made it sound pretty foolish, when she put it like that. But he couldn’t change his basic nature to make her happy. And apparently she couldn’t change hers. “No, I wouldn’t want that for you or Bart,” he said quietly. “But I’m willing to take the risk for myself. So I guess that about takes care of our talk, Amanda. If you’ll just promise to bring Bart out West once in a while, so I can see him—” Chase’s throat closed and he couldn’t go on. The thought of Amanda and Bart leaving hurt too bad to think about, but they would leave.

  “Dammit, Chase, is that really all you have to say?”

  He looked away from the tears in her eyes. “Guess so.” From the corner of his eye he could see her rebuttoning her dress with trembling fingers. Then she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She had guts. He’d give her that.

  “I’ll make plane reservations for tomorrow. I’m sure Duane will be taking a load of people out to the airport, anyway, so I’ll just ride along.”

  He didn’t say anything. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, he might start begging, which wouldn’t do any good, anyway. She didn’t want the life he had to offer, so he might as well save himself the humiliation.

  Leigh stuck her head around the partially open gate. “Hey, you two lovebirds! Freddy and Ry are finally leaving for Mount Lemmon. Get in here and help us pelt them with rice!” Then she disappeared.

  Chase looked at Amanda. He hadn’t known he could hurt this bad. “I owe them a good sendoff,” he said, his voice cracking. “But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  “I want to,” she said, and whirled away to stride purposefully through the gate.

  Chase had never seen her look more beautiful.

  * * *

  AMANDA COULDN’T BOOK a flight out of Tucson until midafternoon the next day. Afraid she would start screaming if she had to hang around the ranch all morning being pleasant, she decided to go somewhere more private. She called the bunkhouse and asked the cowboy who answered to saddle Pussywillow for her.

  “Is Chase going with you?” said the hand, who sounded like Curtis.

  She realized she’d never get away if she didn’t lie. “No, but I’m only going down to the main road and back. I don’t need Chase for that.”

  “Okay. I’ll bring her up for you.”

  Amanda laced Bartholomew tightly into the cradleboard and lifted it onto her shoulders. It was heavier than she’d expected, but she figured she could manage. She thought of making up some excuse to take the cellular phone, but that would arouse suspicion. A ride to the mailbox and back hardly required a phone connection. As she started down the flagstone path leading away from the house, she saw Curtis riding up the road, leading Pussywillow. So far, so good.

  “Where you goin’?” asked a deep male voice.

  She turned to see Dexter sitting on the porch, Chloe by his side.

  She tried to sound casual. “For a little ride.”

  “No one? By—alone?”

  “Nope.” She smiled. “Bartholomew’s going, too.”

  “You need Chase.”

  No, she didn’t. Not anymore. Not ever again. “I’ll manage just fine, Dexter.”

  “Take the dog.”

  Amanda considered that for a moment and rejected the idea. A dog on the trail might be more trouble than she was worth if she spent time chasing rabbits and gophers. “I’m really not going that far,” she said, gritting her teeth to keep from shouting her impatience to be off. She glanced back toward the road. “Well, here’s Curtis with Pussywillow. See you later, Dexter.”

  She hurried down the walk and out the gate to the hitching post where Curtis had dismounted and was holding his horse and Pussywillow by the reins.

  He looked doubtfully at the cradleboard. “Didn’t know you were takin’ the baby.”

  “He’s very light,” she fibbed. These Western men were a little too overprotective for her taste.

  “I should probably go with you.” He glanced uncertainly around the yard. “Where’s Chase?”

  “I don’t know for sure.” She smiled her brightest smile. “He partied pretty hard last night.”

  Curtis nodded. “Like the rest of us. My head feels like a barrel cactus this mornin’.”

  “I didn’t want to bother him, but I longed for another ride on Pussywillow. She has such a nice gait.”

  “She’s a good one, all right.” He studied her. “And I’ve seen you sit a horse. You know what you’re doin’. Guess it’s all right.” He grinned. “Besides, if I rode with you, I’d probably get into trouble with Chase.”

  Not anymore, Amanda thought. “I really don’t need an escort,” she said. “But thanks for being concerned.”

  “I’ll help you up, at least.”

  She accepted the two cupped hands he offered and placed her booted foot in them. The cradleboard threw her off-balance just enough to make mounting from ground level difficult. She’d have to find a fallen log when she remounted. She settled herself in the saddle and smiled down at Curtis. “Thanks.”

  “As long as you don’t get off again until you get back, you’ll be fine.” He adjusted his hat. “Guess I’ll go in and trouble Belinda for a cup of coffee. Maybe I’ll still be here when you get back. That way I can help you down again.”

  “Maybe.” She reined Pussywillow around. “Thanks again,” she called over her shoulder as she started down the lane at a slow walk so she wouldn’t jostle Bartholomew.

  * * *

  CHASE TOOK a cup of coffee out to the patio and squinted up at the sun. Must be damn near eleven in the morning. He rubbed a hand over his bristled chin. He felt as if somebody had hit him over the head with a tire iron. Switching from beer to margaritas after Freddy and Ry left might not have been such a great idea, but it had kept tension from attacking his back muscles. He remembered dancing with Rosa, who was old enough to be his mother, and smashing the hell out of a piñata. He even re
membered asking Curtis to saddle up Gutbuster, the True Love’s most dangerous bronc. Curtis had refused, thank God.

  Some perverse impulse drew him out the back patio gate to the scene of the crime. Funny, but the spot where his whole future had collapsed didn’t look much different from the rest of the surrounding desert. He glanced up the trail in the direction of the cottage and wondered if she was in there packing. Or hiding.

  A cloud eased over the sun and the wind picked up. Maybe today the rain would start, but Belinda had told him they’d probably get a lot of wind, first. She’d also told him to go back to his room and shave, but he didn’t much feel like it. Duane was the one driving to the airport, not him. And he was one of the owners of the place, wasn’t he? An owner should be able to walk around unshaven without the cook chewing his behind about it. Belinda was just ticked because Amanda and the baby were leaving. Maybe Belinda even thought he could do something about that, but the time was long past.

  The wind almost took his hat, and he pulled it lower over his eyes. He gazed out over the desert, where a couple of dust devils whirled across the desert floor like columns of smoke. Then he picked out a third, a bigger one, looking more gray than tan. He narrowed his eyes. Wait a minute. That wasn’t a dust devil.

  He dashed his coffee in the dirt and sprinted back into the patio. Wrenching open the French doors, he bellowed out Leigh’s name.

  “In here!” she called from Freddy’s office. “And keep your voice down, cowboy. Some of us have headaches from last night, you know.”

  He covered the distance to the office door in three quick strides. “There’s a fire,” he said, breathing hard. “Looks like it’s near the mouth of Rogue Canyon.”