by Jeanne Allan
She looked up at the mangy cow head that sneered at her from over the living-room mantel. 'Don't give me that cocky smirk, you moth-eaten behemoth. If it were up to me, you'd be reigning over the county dump, not the living-room.' Striding to the window, she swept aside heavy velvet curtains. Outside the window the relentless wind whipped up the dirt and thrust tumbleweeds against the fence. Further south the tops of the Spanish Peaks were obscured by dark, fast-moving clouds. A cold and barren land. The heavy curtain dropped back into place. 'I hate Colorado,' Dallas said, speaking loudly to dispel the lonely gloom. 'I hate cows, I hate this ranch, I hate this house, I hate this room, I hate the cold, I hate the wind, and most of all,' she glared up at the head, 'I hate you.'
'Is there anything you don't hate? Once you thought that living on a ranch might be fun.'
Dallas whirled. Clay was slouched against the frame of the door, raising small clouds of dust as he slapped his hat against long, jean-clad legs. 'I was still a child. Not everybody's cut out to be Annie Oakley.' Crossing her arms protectively in front of her, she hid her fears and loneliness behind a wall of complaints. 'A lot of people like to have neighbours, shops and restaurants within walking distance, and big city amenities only a short ride away.'
'You should have thought of that earlier. I told you before. Our marriage is not a temporary situation.' Clay's voice was cold.
'That's right. You'll need a baby-sitter as long as Nicky is around, won't you?'
'You're more than a baby-sitter. You're my wife.'
'I always thought wife was synonymous with partner. None of my married friends was shunted off to a tiny bedroom on the north side of the house where it's impossible to stay warm.'
There was a derisive lift to Clay's brow. 'You're the one who insisted you needed time to adjust to marriage and motherhood before we consummated the marriage. Change your mind?'
'No.' She walked over to the mantel and traced an invisible line with her finger. An admission of her loneliness burst from her lips in spite of her intentions. 'I merely meant that most wives know where their husbands are and occasionally have a civilised conversation with their husbands.'
'Most wives also sleep with their husbands.' His bland tone of voice failed to blunt the unexpected attack.
'I see.' Dallas felt cold all over. 'I'm being punished.'
'Not at all. I've merely been keeping out of your way so that you can settle in.'
She straightened a candle on the mantel. 'It might have occurred to you that I could use a little help adjusting.'
'It might have occurred to you to ask if you needed help. Or is the ultimate expert on child care too proud to admit that she needs help?'
'You're still angry because of what I said about Nicky and Kyle,' Dallas said. 'Your pride was hurt, and you're getting back at me. Dumping me here in the middle of nowhere. Showing up only at dinner and barely speaking to me then.'
'What do we have to talk about? Nicky is our only common bond, and you've made it quite clear I have nothing to say that you want to hear on that subject. Where is Nicky anyway?'
'At school.'
'School?' A deep frown wrinkled his brow. 'Don't you think you're rushing things a little? Did she want to go?'
Dallas thought of the frenzied sobbing, the clinging to her legs, the screaming tantrum. 'No.' Nicky's tear-drenched face wouldn't leave her mind. Dallas had spent the morning fighting the temptation to drive back into town and bring Nicky home.
'Maybe you should have waited a few days.'
'It would only get worse.' She stared sightlessly into the cold fireplace. Clay's silence accused her and pushed her to explain. 'I've dealt with such situations as a counsellor many times. I know that hanging around or giving in to Nicky would only prolong the agony. I drew hands on my watch and gave it to her so she'd know she wasn't being abandoned. When the watch matches up with my drawing, she knows I'll be there.'
'You know all the answers, don't you?'
Dallas hunched her shoulders defensively against his sneering assault. 'I thought I did. I never fully appreciated how difficult it was for the parents.' She cleared her throat of the tears that clogged it. 'I felt like such a monster leaving her there. She begged me not to.'
Clay walked across the room and dropped his hands heavily on her shoulders. 'Could it be that you're not nearly as tough as you'd like to think you are?'
Dallas shrugged from his grasp. 'I never said I was tough. You did, just because—'
'No.' Clay's hand snaked around and covered her mouth. 'Let's not start that argument again.' He chuckled softly as he drew her back against his body. 'You don't feel so tough.' The whispered words were puffs of air against her cheek, and then the curled tip of a moist tongue bathed the curves of her ear, sending heat pulsating through her body. She knew she should push him away, but Nicky's tantrum had emotionally drained her, leaving her vulnerable. She needed someone to hold her and comfort her. Clay turned her stiff body in his arms and pressed warm, soft kisses on her brow, her closed eyelids, her nose, and her cheeks. His body heat softened her token resistance, and her mouth trembled as his lips settled on hers. Clay worked his magic, his kisses dissolving her bones, until Dallas was clinging to him for support.
He lifted his head. 'Perhaps it's time to move you out of that chilly northern bedroom.'
The thinly veiled amusement in Clay's voice acted as a dash of cold water on her heated emotions, and she pulled free of his arms. A small tremor shook her spine. It frightened her that she was tempted to yield. She couldn't—not yet. How could they become lovers when they weren't even friends? Putting distance between them, she fought desperately for self-control. 'Don't go reading something into a little kiss. I've had a bad morning. Is it so surprising that I responded to the first show of friendliness I've encountered since I've been here? I would have thrown myself at anyone who acted halfway civil.'
Clay frowned. 'What does that mean? If you're not receiving the respect due my wife—'
'Respect! I've had respect up to here.' She whipped her hand past her nose. 'Mrs Dalton this and Mrs Dalton that. I'm like an honoured guest with no status. As a wife, I don't exist. My menu suggestions are ignored because the boss won't eat them. The pictures have to stay where they are because the boss likes them there. Heaven forbid I should even consider rearranging the furniture. The boss wants it this way. I had to ask Jim to drive Nicky and me to school this morning because I didn't know where you were, and only the boss has the keys to all his cars. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?'
'OK. So I haven't been much of a success with this marriage business.' He picked up his hat. 'Extra keys for all the vehicles are in my desk. Top drawer, right. Take whichever car you want,' Clay said.
'You're sure the boss won't want any of them?'
'You might cut me a little slack, Dallas. I was a bachelor for thirty-one years. Give me some time to remember that there are other people in my life to consider these days. As for Sara and the others,' he shrugged, 'most have worked for my family a long time. Alanna didn't exactly endear herself to them, and they didn't hesitate to make it clear where their loyalties lay.' He started from the room, then hesitated in the doorway. Turning around, he surveyed the room. 'What's wrong with this room? It's always looked like this. My mother moved in here and she never changed a thing. My father would have a stroke if you moved so much as one stick of furniture.'
'Your father doesn't live here. I do. If he likes this stuff so much, let him take it over to his house. I'll carry that damned cow over there myself.'
'That damned steer,' he emphasised the last word, 'is a legend around here. He's part of the family.'
'And I'm not?'
Clay clapped his hat on his head. 'That's up to you.'
Dallas glared at his departing back. Clay had pushed her around long enough. It was time he discovered exactly what kind of woman he'd married. She headed directly to the master bedroom on the second floor. The bedroom that Clay occupied. Her first s
tep in his education would be to exchange rooms with him. He could sleep in that Arctic bedroom. Standing on the threshold, she surveyed Clay's room. Mud-covered boots had been abandoned in one corner, an old stetson hung on one of the bedposts, and a pair of jeans were tossed across the back of a cracked leather chair. The scent of Clay's aftershave was so strong in the air that she couldn't prevent a glance over her shoulder to ensure that he wasn't behind her before she stepped cautiously into the room. Much of the floor was taken up with a bed that was covered with a patchwork of sheepskin. Losing her courage, Dallas bolted from the overwhelmingly masculine room. She'd never be able to erase Clay's presence from this room.
There were four bedrooms on this floor of the ranch house; Clay had one, Nicky slept in another, and Dallas had been assigned the third. Hearing the vacuum cleaner in the fourth bedroom, she headed there.
Sara turned off the machine at her approach. 'Yes, Mrs Dalton? Is there something I can do for you?'
Dallas took a deep breath. 'Yes. First you can call me Dallas.' She looked around at the odd jumble of furniture. 'And then you can tell me what this room is used for.'
'Nothing now. It was Clay's room until his dad moved over to the small house.'
'Well, it's going to be my room now. I'm freezing to death in that other room.'
Sara bent down to pick up a piece of lint from the floor. 'Is that what Clay wants?'
'I'm here to stay. That's what Clay wants. He has more on his mind than petty worries about how the house is run.' She hoped that was true.
The housekeeper didn't look too convinced. 'There's always the guest wing where she lived with Kyle.'
Dallas decided not to comment on Sara's refusal to use Alanna's name. 'I prefer to sleep closer to my husband,' she said coolly. Let Sara make of that what she would. 'But that does bring up a question. Why is Nicky's bedroom over here?'
'Kyle and his wife went out a lot, and Clay didn't like Nicky being all alone over there. He said it was too far away.'
'What about when Clay had evening plans?'
'He didn't go out much after Kyle came home,' Sara said. 'When he did, my daughter Kim or I came over. Or Clay's daddy came over and stayed with her.'
Dallas wondered where Clay had gone when he went out. And whom he'd gone with. She could hardly ask Sara. Not that she cared how Clay had spent his evenings before they were married. Much better to concentrate on the room. The juvenile furniture had been badly abused, and the brown curtains patterned with hunting dogs were threadbare. Warm sunshine poured through south-facing windows. Forgetting Sara's presence, Dallas thought out loud. 'Grandmother's desk would go beautifully under this window. My great-grandmother's rocking-chair could go in that corner, and there would still be plenty of room for my bed.' Regret laced her voice as she added, 'I wish I'd brought my furniture.'
'Why didn't you?' Sara asked.
'Clay said the house already had too much furniture, and he didn't know what we'd do with mine.'
Sara unplugged the vacuum. 'Plenty of room in the attic to store stuff. Don't know why Clay didn't think of that.'
Because Clay wanted me to sell my furniture, wanted me to burn my bridges behind me, making it difficult for me to leave here, Dallas thought. Out loud she said, 'I stored my things in case Nicky wants any of them later, but, since there's room, I'll call up the warehouse and tell them to send everything out here.'
'I suppose you'll want new curtains,' the older woman said with a sigh. 'And it needs painting. Clay will have to take someone off the outdoor chores for that.'
'I can paint it myself. I painted my town house. And I'll make the curtains.'
'You can sew?'
'On my salary, I had to know how to sew if I didn't want to run around the school stark naked,' Dallas said.
'Always wanted to learn how to sew. Never had the time.'
Dallas heard the uncertain note in Sara's voice and realised that what Clay had implied earlier was true. Everyone at the ranch was having as much trouble adjusting to her as she was to them. Hadn't all the years of travelling with her military father taught her anything? She'd been so focused on Nicky's problems and her own grand sacrifice that she'd never stopped to consider that perhaps everyone was waiting for her to make the first overtures. 'Sewing is easy. I'll be glad to help you,' she said.
'That would be real nice of you,' Sara said. 'You want I should have someone haul all this junk up to the attic this afternoon so you can get started?'
'Yes.' An image of Clay's face floated before her. 'No. Er—maybe we'd better wait a little on that.'
Sara gave her a perceptive look. 'Until you tell Clay, you mean.'
Dallas smiled weakly. 'It's just a formality. He won't care.'
'Lordy, Dallas, I know that. Clay's a peaceable man. Not much riles him, unless it's dishonesty or disloyalty.' Sara wrapped the cord around the machine's handle, giving the simple task much more attention than it required. 'I've known Clay since he was a small boy. He can be stubborn as a mule sometimes, but in the end he's always fair.' Sara pushed the vacuum down the hall.
Maybe, Dallas thought cynically. And maybe Sara was blinded by loyalty. She looked around the room and shuddered. Never mind Clay. Sara had called her Dallas, and the two of them had actually had a conversation. It was a start.
'Where's Nicky?' Clay asked, sitting down to dinner.
'It's almost seven-thirty. She's in bed looking at some books,' Dallas said. 'I told her I'd go up and tuck her in after we ate.'
Clay laid down his fork and pushed back his chair. 'Is she sick? What's the matter with her?'
'Nothing's the matter with her. She's six years old, and she has to get up to go to school tomorrow.' Dallas spooned gravy over her potatoes. 'Allowing her to stay up all hours and go to bed whenever she felt like it is no way to raise a child. I decided it was time to put her on a more suitable schedule.'
'You decided? Just like that?' Clay scowled across the table. 'Did it occur to you that I like having Nicky at the dinner table? That's about my only chance to see her. She's not up when I leave, and she's at school when I come in for lunch.'
'Then you'll have to change your dinner hour.' Dallas buttered a roll. 'Nicky's will be at five-thirty from now on.'
'Will it?' Clay asked, his low voice challenging her.
'Yes.' She dipped her fork into some peas. Clay must not think that he could intimidate her. 'I didn't change my whole way of life to come out here and be just another stick of furniture in this—this historical mausoleum. You said you wanted a mother for Nicky, and I intend to be one.'
'Whether I approve of your methods or not.'
Dallas folded her shaking hands in her lap and faced him across the table. 'Exactly.'
'And what's my role? To put food on the table, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and otherwise keep out of your way? That was Alanna's style. Do whatever you want and the hell with anyone else. Just how much like your cousin are you?'
She stiffened at his harsh words. 'Alanna may not have been raising Nicky the way I'd raise a child, but you know she loved Nicky.' Her voice trembling, she added, 'How can you sit there and criticise Alanna? It would take a saint to put up with all Kyle put her through, the way he abused her.'
'Is that what Alanna told you? He never laid a hand on her,' Clay said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
'There's more than physical abuse. After Kyle ditched his plane at sea he was afraid to fly again and he became an embittered man who hated himself because he'd failed, and he took his anger out on Alanna. Name-calling, jealous rages… it was only a matter of time until he started hitting her.'
'She drove him—'
'Don't give me that old excuse. A man, a real man doesn't take his failures out on those around him.'
'If you knew—'
'I knew all I needed to know,' Dallas said. 'Enough to try and convince Alanna to divorce him and take Nicky away from him.'
'Kyle would never have hurt Nicky. Do you think I didn'
t know my own brother?'
'Kyle changed. You and your father closed your eyes to that. He wasn't the same person after he got out of the Navy.'
'Was Alanna? Or had she always been a selfish bitch?'
'She worshipped Kyle,' Dallas said with growing fury.
'Sure. When he was the all-American hero. She was great with the "for better" part of marriage; it was the "for worse" she couldn't handle. Alanna was a scheming bitch who wouldn't have known a scruple if she'd tripped over it.'
'That's not true,' Dallas said. 'She was good and kind and generous.' Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. 'You knew nothing about her.'
'You were so busy worshipping the goddess that you never saw the selfish manipulator behind the beautiful facade,' Clay said through tight lips. 'You're the one who knew nothing about her.'
'Alanna may have been my cousin, but we were closer than sisters. When her mother died and her father remarried almost immediately and she came to live with us—'
'Spare me,' Clay said. 'I've heard this melodrama a million times. Jealous stepmother throws gorgeous stepdaughter out into the cold, cruel world.'
His sneering words dynamited her self-control. 'Alanna said that you hated her for taking your sainted brother away from you. Only Kyle was hardly a saint.' Her indictment reverberated the length of the table.
'No.' Clay stared down into his coffee-cup. 'He was just a man.' There was a long pause. 'Kyle had such a zest for living before he had to ditch that damned plane. Then, before he had a chance to get his life back in order, he died in the car wreck. And all those damned fools mouth stupid platitudes that he's better off dead, that at least he isn't suffering any more.'
