A Cold Creek Baby

by RaeAnne Thayne

  This felt a great deal like that. She knew she was going to have to face the inevitable pain at some point, but not yet. She didn’t want to ruin this moment with him and somehow she knew going to the porch swing with Cisco would provide him the opportunity to tell her he was leaving.

  Her heart would hurt much more than any broken bone, she knew. But she wasn’t ready to face that yet.

  “I would rather stay in,” she told him. She forced a smile and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a desperate intensity she knew he must sense.

  He paused for only a moment and then he framed her face with his hands and kissed her back with a matching hunger.

  Lovemaking apparently tired Easton out.

  Later, after they came together with that same wondrous heat, she slid easily into sleep as if she was ten years old again, swinging into the hay pile in the barn with her braids flying out behind her.

  Her head nestled on his shoulder, her luscious hair caressing his skin and her arm resting just above his stupid bandage.

  He shifted so he could look at her and a torrent of emotions washed through him. More than anything, he wanted to stay right here in her bedroom, to keep the rest of the world at bay forever.

  The world waited for him, though, dark and insistent.

  He gazed up at the ceiling. Her words—the ones that had firmly lodged in his mind, in his heart—rang through his memory again.

  I love you, Cisco…. Somewhere inside you, I know you sensed that and felt the same.

  Stay here with me, Cisco. Help me run the ranch.

  I have loved you since the day you showed up at the ranch.

  What she asked was impossible. He had obligations. Delicate webs that had been spun months, even years before, that were only now ready to catch their prey.

  How could he just walk away from everything?

  He closed his eyes. He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. The urge to say yes was an urgent need under his skin, a fire coursing through his blood.

  Impossible. She wouldn’t want him here. Oh, she might say she was in love with him but she loved an illusion. A memory. He wasn’t that skinny, fun-loving kid anymore. He hadn’t been him in a long time.

  Could he find that kid again, somewhere buried deep down?

  The thought tantalized him. Only here was that even possible. Once he walked away from her this time and left the ranch, he somehow knew that tiny shred of himself would be gone for good.

  If he stayed, he would let her down, though. She would discover he wasn’t all those things she thought. He wasn’t good or decent. He was a man willing to lie and use people to get what he wanted.

  She would come to hate him eventually.

  He was cold, suddenly, despite the warmth from her strong, slender body.

  As she slept on, he watched her breathe, saw the shadow of her eyelashes on her cheekbones, the delicate curve of her mouth, the tiny smattering of freckles she hid during the day with makeup.

  Even though he had been trained to be a consummate liar, his words to her earlier had been nothing less than the truth. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, as beautiful in her heart as she was on the outside.

  He watched her for a long time, then finally eased away from her body and tucked the covers more snugly around her to compensate for taking away his body heat. She frowned a little in her sleep and shifted her body as if searching for him, but eventually she settled again.

  After a moment, he pulled on his jeans and moved to the window. Out of habit, he touched the E on his compass tattoo as he gazed out at the dark, still ranch. The only movement was one of the big barn owls soaring through a splash of moonbeam before it landed soundlessly in the big maple on the edge of Jo’s garden.

  He could stay. Could take the precious gift she was offering him of her peace and her love.

  But what if he screwed it up? His fingers moved over the rest of the compass. The W, the S. Even the N.

  If he stayed and hurt her, shattered all her illusions about him as he knew he eventually would, he would lose not only Easton but also Brant and Quinn. His brothers. He would have nothing—no family, no home. No heart.

  He couldn’t take that risk. He knew she would be hurt for a while if he left, but that would be only a tiny measure of the pain he would bring her if he stayed.

  He closed his eyes, already hating himself, then he turned away from the window and reached for his boots.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You sure you’re okay, missy?”

  Easton gave her foreman a steely stare as she shoved on her work gloves. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Burt spat a mouthful of sunflower seed shells onto the ground. “Don’t know. Your eyes are still redder’n a chicken’s wattle.”

  “Allergies,” she muttered.

  “That don’t explain why you ain’t said two words all morning.”

  She glared at him, not at all in the mood to hear him tell her he told her so.

  “Maybe I’ve got better things to do than sit around asking everybody about their feelings this morning, Dr. Phil.”

  He spat another wad of seeds into the dirt and gave her a look right back that made her feel about six years old. Guilt pinched at her. Burt wasn’t to blame that she wanted to curl up right here in the dirt and bawl for the next year or two. None of this was his fault and she was wrong to take her pain and humiliation out on him.

  When she had awakened to an empty bed in the early hours before dawn, she had known. Somehow she had known. At first she had been numb and then the pain had crashed over her like a tsunami, raw and violent, sweeping her feet out from under her and tugging her out to a great gaping sea of loss while her shattered dreams floated past.

  She hadn’t needed to search the house to know he was gone. There was an emptiness in the air, as if some vital energy had been sucked out of the house.

  Despite every instinct, she had still somehow hung on to a fragile flutter of hope. She had rushed to the window, only to see the empty spot on the driveway where his rental car had been parked.

  She had returned to the bed they had shared as if she were a hundred years old and had sat in the middle of the mattress, arms wrapped around her knees. And then the tears started. She had sobbed for a long, long time, until her head pounded and her stomach felt vaguely ill, until the first rays of sunlight sidled through the window.

  She might still be there now if she hadn’t heard Jo’s voice echoing in her ears. “Keep moving, darlin’. You can get through anything, as long as you don’t let yourself stop moving.”

  The ranch needed her. She had five hundred head of cattle who depended on her. For the last five days her attention had been diverted by an injured dark-eyed wanderer and a darling little girl.

  No more. It was time to throw herself back into the ranch she loved, to let the rhythm and routine of the place soothe her battered spirit and calm her aching heart.

  “Think I’ll ride up and check on the sandbag situation by the creek. You and the boys all right down here?”

  Burt gave her a careful look and she had to look away, unable to bear his pity. “Should be.”

  Easton nodded and headed for the barn. She supposed she could take the pickup or one of the ATVs and be there in half the time, but she wanted to saddle Lucky anyway, both for the comfort she always found on a horse and because the task would take longer that way, giving her more time to focus on something besides the unrelenting pain. She had a feeling she would be filling her days with more busywork than ever in the coming days.

  Jack bounded up to join her and she watched his lithe form as he trotted ahead of the horse, sniffing in the bushes for any unsuspecting ground squirrels who hadn’t learned their lesson the day before.

  Yesterday had been sunny and bright, more like late June than mid-May. In typical fickle Idaho spring fashion, the weather had turned. The sky was dank and lifeless and the air seemed colder, heavy with the impending storm forecasters were wa
rning would arrive later in the evening. She was grateful she had grabbed a denim jacket on the way out of the barn.

  She supposed the change in the weather was appropriate, since it so accurately reflected her mood.

  He was gone.

  Her hands tightened on the reins.

  In her heart, she had known he would be. Even as he kissed her and held her, she had tasted the desperate edge to their embrace, could almost see his gaze shifting toward the door.

  Jack suddenly scared up a ruffed grouse, who drummed his wings loudly as he took flight.

  She watched him go, wondering how far he would fly and if he would be safe, then she turned her attention back to the trail. When she reached the crossroads where the trail split, one part of her yearned to head toward the lake. Even Jack seemed to think that was the direction she wanted to go. He was twenty feet ahead of her and her horse, well on his way toward the lake and she had to whistle to call him back.

  A part of her desperately sought the peace she found there, to sit by the little memorial plaque to Chance and sob for a few days in what she knew would be a vain effort to purge this pain inside.

  She refused to indulge the impulse. She had to go forward. The strong women in her life would have expected no less.

  She rode to where the creek threatened to run over its banks. The sandbags seemed to be holding, she was relieved to see, and the water appeared to have crested. The creek was still running high, but the danger of flooding seemed to have passed.

  Good. One less crisis in her life for now. She and Burt and the ranchhands had done what they could to protect the hay.

  Too bad she hadn’t worked as hard to protect her heart the moment she awoke in the early hours of the morning five days ago and found Cisco in her kitchen.

  No. Just like the creek bed here, the channel in her heart that belonged to Cisco had been carved years ago. She had been right to tell him everything. Now there were no more secrets between them, not even the furtive hopes she might have harbored somewhere deep inside that he was only waiting for her to say the words.

  She had thrown her heart at his feet and had all but begged him to give up his wandering life for her.

  For a few glittery moments there by the horse pasture and the long shadows of approaching twilight, she had seen something in his eyes, some tiny glimmer that hinted he wanted exactly what she did. He had held her and kissed her with aching tenderness and she had been certain he must care for her.

  She still thought he did. But perhaps the pull of his other life was stronger than what she offered. He had left—and the worst part was, now she had no idea if he would ever return. By spilling everything, telling him the depth of her feelings, things between them were bound to be awkward now. How could they go back to even the strained politeness of the last five years, when he knew how deeply she loved him?

  She had known it was a gamble and she had taken it anyway. Now she would just have to live with the consequences, only hope she hadn’t managed to drive him from Winder Ranch permanently. This was still his home, even if he only visited rarely.

  “Oh, Cisco,” she murmured aloud. Although she had thought she had a firm hold on her emotions by now, her throat ached suddenly and her eyes burned.

  No. She wasn’t going to do this now. If she returned to the ranch with tearstains on her cheeks, Burt would give her that morose look and probably make one of the poor ranchhands follow her around all day to keep an eye on her so she didn’t break down again.

  She shifted her weight in the saddle and whistled for Jack, who had wandered far ahead of her and was barking at something.

  She frowned when he didn’t immediately respond. The trail curved around a rock outcropping and she couldn’t see him from here. She sincerely hoped he hadn’t run across a dratted skunk, although she wanted to think Jack knew better than to tangle with one of those. Wouldn’t that be just what she needed today, the fun and excitement of cleaning up a skunk-doused dog?

  A bit warily, she walked her horse down the trail farther. When she rounded the rocks, she narrowed her gaze. Jack barked at another rider coming up the trail, too concealed by the shadows from the trees on either side for her to identify.

  Burt wasn’t crazy about horses—he preferred his pickup truck whenever possible—and she couldn’t imagine why he would send one of the ranchhands up after her, unless he was being a mother hen again and fretting about her.

  Before she could call him back to her side, her border collie rushed to greet the horse and rider with an enthusiastic bark.

  She shaded her eyes with her hand for a better look and suddenly her heart gave one hard thump in her chest at the glint of sunlight on slightly shaggy dark hair.

  Impossible. It couldn’t be.

  Cisco left.

  She had already started the grieving process for him, for heaven’s sake. All morning, she had been telling herself she would survive this pain as she had endured all the rest. How on earth was she supposed to do that with him popping in and out of her life whenever the mood struck him?

  She wanted to turn around and race back up the trail as fast as Lucky Star could take her. Either that, or slide out of the saddle, sit right there in the dirt and cry.

  Instead, she drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders and urged the horse forward.

  She could handle this. If he was only coming to offer her a proper goodbye, she would be tough and resilient, like the crooked aspen she loved near Chance’s memorial tree, which had survived its own storms, bent and forever altered but not broken.

  Something about him seemed off somehow, but she still couldn’t see him clearly because of the angle of the sun and the trees that shadowed him.

  When they were roughly thirty feet apart, she heard a wholly unexpected sound—a giggly little laugh that definitely wasn’t coming from Cisco.

  Now she saw why Cisco’s position on the horse had seemed odd, something she had apparently missed in her initial shock at seeing him.

  He wasn’t alone.

  Russ was carrying two passengers—Cisco and someone else bundled in his arms, a darling little girl with pink overalls and dark curls.

  In her shock, Easton jerked the reins and Lucky obediently stopped. For a long moment, she could only stare, her heart pounding fiercely and her hands beginning to shake.

  What could it mean? He was here and so was Belle. After the devastating emptiness she had known all morning, she didn’t know quite what to think, what to say.

  She was still reeling when he reached her. Lucky and Russ were close enough to bump noses in greeting.

  “Apparently Belle likes horses.” When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “She’s laughed the whole ride without an ounce of fear. Good thing, right?”

  She drew in a ragged breath. “I don’t…what are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. Burt told us where you’d gone and I decided I couldn’t wait at the ranch for you to come back.”

  “You left,” she whispered. “You always leave.”

  His mouth tightened and she thought she saw something dark and almost anguished flicker in his expression and then it was gone.

  “Your eyes are red,” he murmured.

  She looked away, wondering if she looked as lousy as she felt right now. “The grass pollen count must be off the charts,” she muttered.

  He gave her a long look but didn’t argue. Instead, he slid carefully from Russ’s back, still holding Belle. The baby immediately wriggled to try to get down so she could play in the dirt.

  “In a minute, little bug,” he said, his voice soft. “We have to talk to East first.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. One part of her still wanted to wheel Lucky around and head deep into the mountains where he couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  Reluctantly, she slid from her horse and gave him rein to start chewing the spring grasses that grew beside the trail. When Easton neared the pair of them, Belle gave a delighted squeal and leaned
away from Cisco as she held her hands out in that imploring way she had of demanding to be held.

  She didn’t know what else to do, especially when seeing Belle only made her realize again how very much she had missed the little girl. Easton pulled off her rough leather gloves, shoved them in her back pocket and reached for her. As she did, her hands brushed Cisco’s forearms and she almost wept at the instant heat that sparked between them just at that simple touch.

  Belle seemed so perfect in her arms. Easton held her close and kissed her soft, sweet-smelling cheek. When she lifted her gaze, she found Cisco watching them intently.

  “I don’t understand. You left,” she repeated hoarsely.

  “Yeah, I did. I planned to catch the first flight to Miami and then on to Bogotá as soon as I could. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  How about stay with the woman who loves you? she thought as his words sent fresh pain slicing through her.

  “Yet here you are. And with Belle. What’s going on?”

  “I couldn’t do it,” he said simply. “I planned to catch a flight out of Pocatello, but when I got there, somehow I just kept on driving. I told myself it was the logical choice, that I’d have a better chance of catching a direct flight out of Boise than a smaller airport like Pokey. But by the time I reached Boise’s city limits, I knew I wouldn’t be getting on any plane. I knew what I had to do.”

  “Which was?”

  “Instead of heading to the airport, I found Sharon Weaver’s house. Poor woman. It was only seven in the morning when I showed up and she already had kids hanging off her and looked like she hadn’t slept all night.”

  Easton imagined she didn’t look much better, since she’d spent most of the night weeping for him.

  Belle tugged at her braid and started to put it in her mouth until Easton pulled it free and out of her reach. Still, he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate and finally she had to ask.