by Jeanne Allan
'I feel as passionate about what I do. And I'm needed at the school,' Dallas said.
Clay flicked his reins, heading his horse down into a draw.
She should have known this wouldn't be easy. Why couldn't she just admit to Clay that she was partly in the wrong? Just because he was stubborn, it didn't mean she had to be. On the other hand, she refused to have Clay thinking he could run her life. Dallas studied his back as she followed him down the incline. The air was crisp, and Clay's goosedown jacket emphasised his broad shoulders. Nice shoulders. Strong and sinewy, with muscles that flexed under one's palms. Suddenly Molly lurched to her knees, and Dallas flew forward over the horse's neck, the saddle-horn jamming hard into her stomach. Before Dallas could even cry out, they were at the bottom of the draw and Molly had righted herself.
Clay was out of his saddle, his hands deftly inspecting Molly's front legs. 'You OK?' he asked without looking up.
'Six broken ribs, but don't let that bother you,' Dallas answered sweetly. 'As long as Molly's OK, that's what counts.'
Clay finished inspecting Molly's legs and pulled his glove back on before answering. 'I can't find any damage. She came down too fast and slipped on that patch of ice. Didn't you see it?'
'No, I—'
'A horse breaks a leg, there's not much we can do.' Clay was holding Molly's bridle, patting her neck. He didn't look at Dallas. 'If she'd sprained something, one of us might have had to walk back.'
'And I can guess which one.'
Clay squinted up at her. 'Claiming special privileges because you're a woman?'
'Certainly not. I—'
'I'll ask you again.' He might not have heard her denial. 'Are you OK?'
'Yes.' She practically spit the word at him.
'We can always turn back.'
'I said I'm fine.'
Clay shrugged and remounted, the saddle creaking beneath his weight as he settled into it. The horses snorted in the cold air and the snow crunched beneath their hoofs. Clay led the way up one draw and down another while Dallas glared at his back. The near accident had been all his fault. He could have mentioned the ice. Even if she'd seen it, how was she supposed to know that horses could slip on ice? Besides, he was the one distracting her. 'Daydreaming?' She could almost hear her father's voice. 'That's how accidents happen.'
Ahead of her, Clay stood up in his stirrups and studied the surrounding area and then headed up a faint trail out of the draw. Dallas followed miserably behind. She'd acted like a spoiled brat, demanding that Clay be more concerned about her than her horse. She leaned over and patted Molly on the neck. 'I'm really glad you're all right,' she said softly to the horse. Molly flicked her ears in response.
'Loosen up on the reins and give her her head,' Clay said from the rim of the draw. 'She'll find her own footing coming up.' When Dallas had completed the journey up without incident, Clay turned his horse. 'We'll head back now.'
Dallas wanted to protest. All the draws had been empty. She opened her mouth to ask Clay where the cows were, but her words dried up at the sight of the unyielding back ahead of her.
Back at the corral, Dallas rushed to dismount, determined to prove to Clay that she could do something right. Her muscles were stiff from the unaccustomed activity. Painfully tossing her right leg over the back of the saddle, she dropped to the ground. Unfortunately she had forgotten how tall Molly was and how far off the ground her stirrups were. Her right foot frantically seeking the ground, her left foot barely in the stirrup, Dallas lost her balance and plummeted to earth, landing flat on her back.
'Are you all right?' Clay ducked quickly under his horse's neck.
'Yes.'
'You're sure?' He went down on one knee. 'Nothing broken?'
'I said I'm OK, didn't I?' Embarrassment gave a sharp edge to her words. 'I always get off a horse this way. I was merely tired and felt like lying down.' Her glare dared him to dispute her.
Clay sat back on his haunches, approval in his eyes, a grin on his face. 'Why should you be tired? Molly did all the work. All you did was sit there. What a tenderfoot you are.'
Dallas rubbed her backside ruefully. 'It's not my feet that are tender. I may never sit down again. Especially on a moving barrel. I never used to get sore— I must be getting soft.'
'There's nothing wrong with a soft woman.' Standing, Clay reached down and pulled her to her feet. 'Where are you sore?'
'Everywhere.' The teasing lights in his eyes gave her courage. Concentrating on the top of his zipper, she said, 'Clay, I'm sorry about yesterday. I should have consulted you before I committed myself. And I'm sorry about what happened earlier… when Molly almost fell. You were right to be concerned about her, and I was wrong to be so snotty about it.'
Clay tipped up her chin. 'I didn't behave so well last night myself. I should know that you'd weigh all the factors before you made a decision, and you'd never do anything that would harm Nicky.' His gloved thumb caressed her cheek. 'As for out there, a man's wife should come before his horse.'
Dallas couldn't tear her gaze from his. 'No…no, you were…' Words caught in her throat as Clay's eyes darkened to deep indigo. Suddenly an unexpected shove between her shoulder-blades sent her careening into Clay's arms.
He laughed as his arms tightened about her waist, pulling her hips to rest against his. 'Apparently Molly takes exception to my remark.'
Dallas had forgotten that they were standing between the two horses. 'Every woman wants to come first with a man,' she said without thinking. Instantly she wished she could take the words back. Would Clay think she was referring to the two of them? Would he feel compelled to explain that someone else would always be first in his heart? She rushed to divert his thoughts. 'Molly is probably trying to remind us that she's still wearing her saddle while we're standing around gabbing.'
'Could be. Some women are so impatient.' His hands dropped down to rub her bottom. 'You're sure you're not hurt?'
Her breath caught in her throat as unexpected waves of desire flowed over her. 'I'll be all right.' She brought her hands up to push against his shoulders to free herself from his embrace. At least, that's what she intended. Instead she found her hands gliding up his chest to link behind his neck. 'I enjoyed the ride.'
Clay's eyes crinkled at the corners. 'You must be a glutton for punishment.' He switched from a hard massaging of her bottom to making slow circles around her hips. 'I enjoyed having you with me. Married life seems to agree with me. How about you?'
'I—I…' She could scarcely breathe. Clay's lips were so close to hers. If she raised her mouth just a little…the cold air, the pain and stiffness of her body, the smell of the horses, all fled before the intoxicating feel of Clay's lips on hers. Dallas stood on tiptoe, her arms clenched tightly around Clay's neck, as she strained to return his kiss. Impatient to feel his hair slide through her fingers, first she discarded her gloves, then pushed his hat from his head. His laughing protest parted his lips to her searching tongue. His mouth was warm and moist and then two gloved hands fastened on to her cheeks and held her mouth locked to his as Clay sought and captured her tongue with his own. The stiffening left Dallas's legs and she melted against Clay's body.
He lifted his head. One gloved thumb rubbed across her throbbing lower lip. 'What you need is a long, hot bath.'
The low, intimate tone of his voice sent flames licking deep within her stomach. 'Y-yes.' Desire swelled her breasts beneath her clothing at the sleepy-eyed look on Clay's face.
'I'll be happy to scrub your back.' His thumb slid from her lips and began to trace the line of her chin. The light touch was hypnotic and Dallas closed her eyes and raised her face again to his, her lips parting in unspoken invitation.
CHAPTER SIX
'Hey, Clay, you want I should take care of the horses?'
At the sound of Jim's voice, Clay's hands dropped heavily to Dallas's shoulders and he lifted his head. 'No.' He cleared his throat. 'I'll take care of them.' His eyes were expressionless as he looked down
at Dallas. 'As I said. A hot bath.' He didn't repeat his offer of help.
'I should help with the horses,' she said.
Clay gathered up the reins. 'Go on up to the house.' His brusque tone of voice was a clear dismissal.
'I'll take care of Molly for you.' Jim didn't look at her as he patted the large horse.
Embarrassment flamed on Dallas's face. Clay's opinion of his wife was obvious to everyone. Pride came to her rescue. Just because Clay treated her as if she were a leper it didn't mean she couldn't behave with dignity. 'Thank you, Jim.' Her voice was cool and composed, proof that she didn't care one bit if her husband was an arrogant boor.
Jim gave her a smile that unmistakably apologised for her husband before he turned to Clay. 'Kim said to tell you that she got As on her maths and English exams.'
Sara had told Dallas that her and Jim's daughter was attending the university in Fort Collins, and Dallas added her congratulations to Clay's. 'You must be very proud of her.'
'We are. She's been wanting to be a veterinarian ever since she was knee-high to a grasshopper.' Jim didn't bother to disguise his pride. 'First one in my family to go to college. Thanks to Clay.'
'Why Clay?' Dallas asked.
'I thought you were going to go take a bath,' Clay said.
Dallas ignored him and waited for Jim's answer.
'Even with the scholarship Kim won, Sara and I just didn't see how we could swing the cost. But Clay's got a real thing about how important education is, and he said anyone who worked that hard deserved to go, so he's making up the difference.'
It was clear that Clay preferred not to discuss his generosity. Giving Jim a look of disgust, he said, 'You were right about the cattle. The count is short.'
Dallas had started for the house but now she turned to protest. 'Why did we quit looking if they weren't all there? Am I that bad a rider?'
'It had nothing to do with you,' Clay said impatiently. 'We quit looking because the cows aren't there.'
'But where could they be?' she asked.
'Well, they didn't grow wings and fly away.'
'You mean rustlers? I thought they went out with covered wagons,' Dallas said.
'They're still around,' Jim said. 'Only today they drive trucks. They steal a half-dozen or so cattle and are across the state line in a couple of hours.'
'It seems like a lot of trouble for six cows,' she said.
'Does several thousand dollars sound better?' Clay asked.
'For only six cows?' At his nod, she asked, 'Why don't you stop them?'
'When you come up with a sure-fire method of doing so, why don't you call up the Cattlemen's Association or the Colorado State Patrol. I'm sure they'll be happy to know there is one,' Clay said, every word overlaid with sarcasm. 'In the meantime, would you go soak in the tub? You can hardly walk. I shouldn't have taken you with me.'
Dallas spun angrily about. Everything she did reminded Clay that she didn't belong here. She was wearing overshoes for warmth on top of the borrowed boots and the unfamiliar footwear made her clumsy, causing her to stumble.
Clay was immediately at her side, grabbing her arm with a force that made it ache. 'For heaven's sake, can't you do anything?'
'No.' She'd say it before he did. 'Not here. Because I don't belong here.'
He dropped her arm. 'It's a little late to come to that conclusion, isn't it?'
A week later, Clay's words still rang in her ears as Dallas leaned forward, resting her right arm on the saddle-horn. 'Horses are lucky,' she said out loud. Molly gave a little hop at the unexpected sound of Dallas's voice, and Dallas reached down and patted the buckskin mare's neck. 'Stallions are stallions. But Clay… he's so complicated, he's driving me crazy. I guess he didn't approve of my kissing him in the barnyard. He hasn't been near me since.' Molly's ears twitched. 'Oh, sure. We eat dinner together. We even have civilised conversation. Politics, the weather, what's happening in the neighbourhood, my days at school, Colorado history.' She gave a half-hearted laugh. 'Sometimes Clay sounds like a one-man Colorado visitors' bureau. He loves this place. And who could blame him? So do I.' The difference was, Colorado was in Clay's blood. He belonged here.
Molly tugged at the reins, tired of standing. Dallas loosened her hold, giving the mare her head. Let Molly take her where she wanted—one trail was as good as another. Jim said she couldn't get lost, that Molly always knew the way home. Certainly the mare seemed to know where she was going as she picked her way up an unseen trail. Dallas had ridden every opportunity she had, determined to prove she wasn't a total flop at ranch living. Jim or Nicky normally rode with her. This was the first time she'd had enough confidence in her riding skills to venture out alone. Not that one needed much skill with Molly. The large horse was remarkably forgiving of the amateur rider on her back. Nicky said that Alanna had favoured Molly, too.
Lost in her thoughts, Dallas would have missed the cabin hidden in the clump of pines if Molly hadn't walked straight up to the small porch and halted by an old hitching-post. Dallas slid from the saddle. Molly pawed at the snow, uncovering some hay. Dallas laughed. 'You greedy old thing. How did you know that food was there? You must have the best nose in the west.' Tying Molly's reins loosely so that she could reach the hay, Dallas looked around.
Further back in the trees leaned a small shanty with a half-moon cut in the door. An outhouse. Behind Dallas, Molly made snuffling sounds as she ate. The faint cry of a crow floated down to earth as he rode the thermals. The cabin was quiet.
Dallas stepped cautiously up on the porch. Enormous logs had weathered over the years to a soft grey. The door was bolted on the outside. Dallas hesitated with her hand on the bolt. Someone had installed glass in the old window-frames, and she tiptoed over to one. The pane was dusty, and she rubbed clean an area large enough to look through.
The cabin was one room, spartan, yet cosy. Two bunks were built against one wall, the bottom one covered with a gaily striped blanket. Across the room was a small wooden table with two chrome and plastic kitchen chairs looking incongruous beside it. A blue metal coffee-pot sat on the hearth in front of the stone fireplace. In spite of the coffee-pot and the blanket, the cabin looked abandoned. From the window Dallas could see dust on the table and cobwebs hanging from the upper bunk. The temptation to go inside for a closer look was irresistible.
Inside the cabin, the air was stale and a few dead flies dotted the floor. Dallas was surprised to see a bookcase under the window she'd been peering in. She moved towards it. Adventure stories, animal stories and stories of the Old West were jammed into the small case along with tales of jet pilots, explorers and sports heroes. Dallas thumbed through the books. The same names were repeated on the fly leaves. Clay Dalton and Kyle Dalton. She smiled. Whatever this cabin had been built for, it had obviously served time as some sort of clubhouse for Clay and Kyle when they were younger. She picked up the books on the Old West. It was no surprise that they had been Clay's. Several looked interesting, and she decided to take them. Nicky might enjoy hearing them read. Pulling the books from the shelf disclosed a leather-bound book thrust behind. Dallas reached curiously for it.
The book was a diary. Alanna's name was embossed on the front in gold. Dallas had forgotten Alanna's habit of writing down all the important events in her life. She rubbed her hand over the cool leather, fighting the temptation to read Alanna's innermost thoughts. What Alanna had written about Clay was none of Dallas's business. On the other hand, what if Alanna had written of her hopes and aspirations for Nicky? As Nicky's surrogate mother, wasn't Dallas obligated to know? Besides, the diary was something that Nicky might appreciate in later years, a key to her mother. Dallas could never give the diary to Alanna's child without first ensuring that the diary contained nothing that would turn Nicky away from her mother.
'Here you are.'
Dallas whirled about, dropping the armload of books. Clay stood in the cabin doorway watching her with a quizzical look on his face. 'Guilty conscience?'
'No
. Of course not. I just didn't hear you.' She bent down to pick up the books, sliding the diary between the others to hide it from Clay's view. 'What are you doing here?'
'I was worried. Jim said you rode off several hours ago.'
'I didn't realise that I'd been gone so long, but there was no need for you to worry,' Dallas said.
'Wasn't there?' One corner of Clay's face twisted in a wry smile. 'You forget I've seen you on a horse.'
'Just because I wasn't at my best that day—'
'We agree on something.' He ambled into the room and took the top book from her hand, reading the title on the spine. 'Something to help you sleep at night?'
His words reminded her of the night he'd offered himself to help her sleep, and she couldn't stop the heat that flushed her face. 'I was taking them back for Nicky. Do you mind?'
'No. Why should I?'
'They're yours,' Dallas said.
'I'd forgotten they were even here.'
'What is this place?'
'An old squatter's cabin.'
'What do you think happened to the people who lived here?'
Clay shrugged. 'Hard to say. I've always heard it was empty when Walt took over here.' He looked around. 'Indians could have scared them off, or a hard winter. They might have decided that gold-hunting was easier. Or maybe the man's wife was too soft for life out here so she just upped and left him and went back to her home in the east.'
Dallas's hands clenched around the books. No misinterpreting that job. She changed the subject. 'It made an ideal playhouse for you and Kyle. Did you come here often?'
'When we were younger. We'd pack supper and spend the night.' He shook his head impatiently as if ridding himself of old memories. 'That was a long time ago.'
'Who uses it now?' She nodded towards the blanketed bunk.
'No one.' Only the barest hint of some quickly suppressed emotion in Clay's eyes told her he was lying. He stretched out one hand. 'I'll carry those back for you.'
