by Janet Dailey
Urging the palomino into a canter, she started out, making a wide circle away from the buildings. Her gaze skimmed the landscape, unimpressed by the wild terrain. A long-eared jackrabbit raced alongside her for a while and then made a lightning-quick right angle turn to disappear into the sage. LaRaine ignored it, as she ignored the chukar that took flight at the palomino's approach.
She had almost decided that her attempt to find Travis would be fruitless when she caught a movement in her side vision and reined the palomino to a stop. It pranced in protest while she tried to locate what had momentarily caught her attention.
Far back in an arroyo she saw the object, or objects as it turned out to be. The distinctive red color and shape of Hereford cattle took form in the sage and brush-covered gully. They were ambling to the mouth of the arroyo. LaRaine was about to ride on when she saw the horse and rider driving the dozen or so head of cattle. It was Travis. She felt she would recognize him anywhere.
A smile curved her mouth as she turned the palomino and started it down the incline that would take her to the valley floor and eventually to the mouth of the arroyo. Once down the slope, she had to wind her way through the thick stands of brush, relying on her sense of direction to guide her to her destination. It proved fairly reliable. Travis was just riding out of the mouth when she intersected his path and reined her horse alongside his. Surprise flickered briefly in his eyes.
"Hello." There was triumph in her greeting. The taste of successfully finding him was sweet.
"Are you lost?" Amusement glittered in the sideways look he gave her.
"If I were, I'm not anymore. You've found me." LaRaine arched him a smiling look.
"What are you doing out here?" he questioned.
"I was looking for you," she replied truthfully.
"Oh?" The simple word asked for an explanation.
A mottled gray dog with a black face barked at a straying cow and chased it back with the others. The palomino danced nervously at the swift gray shadow of the cattle dog.
"I wanted to prove to you that I could ride," she answered after easily bringing her mount under control and slowing it to a sedate walk beside his horse. This time he was riding a buckskin. It was almost the same size as the bay, but it lacked the finer points of conformation that the bay possessed.
"I believed you," said Travis.
"Did you? You looked skeptical when I told you," she accused, but without malice. "Who is your friend?" She nodded to the dog.
"Blue is my working partner, a blue heeler." When Travis spoke his name, the dog looked around, its ears pricking. Deciding there wasn't going to be any command, the dog returned to its business of keeping the cattle grouped and moving forward.
"Do you run this ranch by yourself?" she questioned, a finely arched brow lifting into a frown.
"No, I have a hired hand who works for me. He's the younger son of one of my neighbors. A hard-working boy."
"Boy?" LaRaine questioned the term.
"He's nineteen. From my view, that's young," Travis explained dryly.
"I'd forgotten how old you are," she mocked. "Is that your bones I hear creaking, or the saddle?"
"This time it's the saddle." A cow threatened to elude the dog and take off into the sage. Travis reined his horse to pursue it, but the dog turned it back with the others.
"The buckskin isn't as good a horse as the bay," LaRaine observed, unconsciously attempting to show off her knowledge of horses.
"Not in looks maybe," Travis conceded. "But he's strong and dependable, and tough as nails. Looks alone don't count for much out here." His gaze was on her when he said the last. LaRaine had the feeling the comment was directed at her.
"Did you buy him here?" Uncertain how to take the remark, she kept the conversation centered on the horse.
"In Utah, yes," he nodded.
"From the same man who sold you the bay?"
"No, I've only had the buckskin a year. I bought the bay two years ago when I moved here," Travis answered.
"Two years ago?" She eyed him curiously. "You mean you've only owned this ranch for two years?
"That's right." Travis never let his attention become diverted for long from the cattle.
"Did you have a ranch in Texas?" LaRaine had difficulty visualizing Travis working for someone else.
"No. I managed ranches. I finally decided it was time I put in all those long hours on a place of my own. So I took my savings, came here, and bought this ranch, such as it is. But it's mine." There was a quiet pride in the statement.
"Why did you come here? Why didn't you stay in Texas?" LaRaine thought she knew the answer, but she waited to hear what he had to say.
"I felt there was more opportunity here." His look dared her to challenge his answer.
For the time being, LaRaine didn't. "Where did you work in Texas?" she asked instead.
"Do you want my life history, is that it?" His slanted smile seemed to taunt, but he answered, "I was born in the Panhandle of Texas, worked as a hand on one of the ranches there after I graduated from high school. Then I moved to a ranch in the hill country outside of San Antonio. After a few years I took over the management of that ranch." He seemed to hesitate. "A friend of mine was hurt in a plane crash, so I ran his place in west Texas until he recovered. Then I came here."
"Your friend who was hurt, was his wife's name Natalie?" LaRaine questioned, certain that faint pause, and the tightness of his voice, had given it away.
He glanced at her and smiled slowly. "Cord's wife is named Stacy."
"Who is Natalie?" she persisted in treading on what she guessed was forbidden ground.
"She's a woman I know," was all he admitted.
"And you loved her?" LaRaine questioned.
His look was hard and impatient. "I love her," but his voice was calm.
LaRaine noticed that he didn't use the past tense. "What happened?"
"That, Miss Evans, is none of your business," he said flatly.
And she knew it was foolish to try to make him relent from his stand. She let both hands rest on the saddle horn, the reins loose around the horse's neck.
"I think I asked you before to call me LaRaine, didn't I?" she asked with mock innocence.
"I believe you did." Travis nodded and looked straight ahead at the red backs of the cattle.
"And?" LaRaine let her gaze rest on the golden head of her horse as it bobbed back and forth in rhythm with its walking stride.
"I'll try to remember the next time–LaRaine." He stressed her name with mocking emphasis.
"You wouldn't happen to have some water in your canteen, would you?" she asked. "I'm thirsty and I forgot to bring any."
"You should never go riding in this country without it," Travis stated, and reined his horse to a stop. "You never know when it might save your life."
LaRaine stopped her horse. "I'll remember that the next time."
With a hand signal, Travis gave a command to the dog, and LaRaine watched with fascination as it circled the cattle and forced them to stop without spooking a single one of them. There was plenty of yellow grass growing amidst the clumps of sage. The Herefords were content to graze.
When she glanced at Travis, she discovered he had dismounted and was removing his canteen from the saddlebags. LaRaine started to dismount, then changed her mind when she saw Travis walking around his horse to her left side. She realized he was going to do the gentlemanly thing and help her down.
It was an opportunity that she didn't intend to pass up. She swung her right leg over the saddle horn as his large hands reached up to span her waist. Kicking her left boot free of the stirrup, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders for balance. He lifted her as easily as he had carried the calf.
When her feet touched the ground, LaRaine swayed toward him. Her hands, instead of gliding down his chest, curved around his neck. As she tipped her head back and to the side, a sultry, enticing look darkened her eyes. The glistening sheen of her lips was offered to him.
Every move was deliberate and calculated to invite an embrace.
Travis's hands rested loosely on her waist, neither holding nor rejecting. He looked down at her upturned face. His expression revealed an aloof kind of dry amusement as he made no move to accept her invitation.
LaRaine had expected this initial, passive resistance. She slid her fingers into the thickly curled black strands of hair at the back of his neck to force his head down. Travis submitted to the pressure, but it was a slow descent.
The touch of his hard lips on hers was warm and undemanding. Her pulse quickened in excitement. Travis was proving to be as susceptible to her practiced charm as others had been. His mouth moved experimentally over hers, yet there was nothing tentative about the kiss.
Slowly, LaRaine let herself begin to relax against him. It was like leaning against a stone statue warmed by the sun. Her intent was to deepen the kiss and introduce a seductive passion to the embrace. But before her lips could make their demand on him, his leather-gloved hand moved to capture her chin and hold it still.
The initiative had been hers, but now Travis was taking over. He held control over which direction the kiss would take, and he chose to avoid passion. His mouth continued its exploration of hers, mobilely investigating its pliant softness and taunting its parted invitation. The firm pressure was subtly teasing, frustrating LaRaine with its promise of satisfaction that was not fulfilled.
She was not free to respond but only to feel. A multitude of sensations began crowding into her mind. The hot sun had dampened his skin with perspiration, intensifying the odors that clung to his shirt. The smell of leather and horseflesh mingled with a lingering brutish scent of shaving lotion, then intermixed with the individual male smell of him to form a potent combination.
Her arms around his neck made LaRaine aware of the even rise and fall of his solid chest. The large hand resting at her side encompassed both the curve of her waist and her hip bone, its grip relaxed and unrestrictive. The hand cupping her chin was firm, implying a strength that could snap her slender neck as easily as a toothpick. Most of all her sensitive nerve ends were aware of the male length of him from the sinewy hard columns of his long legs to the muscled brawn of his chest and shoulders—masculinity in its perfect state, virilely male and powerfully constructed.
There was a fluttering weakness in her stomach. For the first time in her life, LaRaine wanted to respond naturally to a man's kiss. It was no longer a part of some grand design to maneuver a man into giving her what she wanted. The irregular beat of her heart drummed the discovery into her mind.
This unexpected longing quivered through her. It was a slight movement, barely discernible, yet Travis must have felt it. For a fraction of a second his mouth was motionless in its possession of hers. Then he was slowly lifting his head and relaxing his hold of her chin. Her long, curling lashes drifted open. Confused disappointment was in her dark eyes for Travis to see, but his shuttered look revealed nothing.
Unwinding her arms from around his neck, he brought them down and held them to make a space between them. Shaken by the sensuous experience, LaRaine lowered her gaze to her hands; her wrists were lost in the loose hold of his gloved hands.
"Are you bored, LaRaine?" His voice taunted. "Are you seeking a diversion, an affair with a local cowboy to pass the time?"
She drew her wrists free of his hold and turned, taking a step away. That had been her plan. Only now, everything seemed to be turned upside down, but the veiled attack was just what LaRaine needed to regain control of her confused senses.
"I don't know," her initial response was truthful. "Maybe I am." Over her shoulder she cast him a glance sideways, a look filled with coy arrogance. "If I were what would you say?"
Amusement twitched the corners of his mouth, as if he found something about her challenge humorous. "That there are still men around who prefer to do the chasing."
"Men are sometimes so slow," LaRaine shrugged. "A girl can get tired of waiting for him to catch up with her."
Travis didn't respond to that. Slipping the canteen strap off his arm, he unscrewed the lid. "Do you still want that drink?" His tone doubted that she had been thirsty in the first place.
"I do, yes." She reached out to take the canteen from his hand.
Tipping her head back, she lifted the canteen to her lips and let the warm water trickle down her throat. While she was drinking, Travis removed his dusty brown hat and hooked it over the horn of her saddle. With his fingers he combed the springing thickness of his black hair and smoothed it into the silver wings at the side.
Finished with the canteen, LaRaine handed it back to him. "This is the first time I've seen you without a hat," she observed. Except for the white at his temples, there wasn't a trace of gray anywhere else in his dark hair. "I was beginning to wonder whether or not you were bald."
His mouth twisted into a half-smile, the canteen poised midway. "Do you always say what's on your mind?"
"I've always understood that men like frankness in a woman." She studied the hand holding the canteen. It was covered with a work-worn leather glove, but it didn't disguise its size. She wondered what it would be like to be caressed by his hands, whether they could arouse her in that same strange, new way that his kiss had.
"Who told you that?" Travis had taken his drink and was recapping the canteen.
LaRaine shrugged. "It's something I learned through personal experience and observation. I don't know if it's really true. But I do know that it attracts attention and I'm never ignored."
"As long as you don't forget that a little goes a long way." He put his hat back on, pulling the brim down low in front. Walking to the palomino's head, he took hold of the bridle and glanced at LaRaine. "Are you ready to move on?"
"I guess so," she agreed, and walked over to mount her horse.
His hand gripped her elbow to help her aboard. Then Travis was passing her the reins and walking over to mount his buckskin. He whistled to the dog lying alertly on the ground near the grazing cattle. Within seconds the rider and dog had the cattle moving.
"Where are you taking them?" LaRaine questioned.
"To the corral by the barn. Sam decided it would be more feasible to use my livestock than have the expense of another rancher bringing his in," he explained.
"He needs more than these, doesn't he?" Making a rough count, LaRaine doubted if there were two more than a dozen.
"Blue and I will drive these in and get another bunch." His gaze swung from the small herd to her. "Why aren't you working? Aren't they filming today?"
"Yes, but I'm not in any of the scenes we're shooting. My part isn't very large." Which was putting it mildly.
"Are you waiting to be discovered?" he inquired in a jesting tone.
"I've already been discovered." LaRaine found herself answering his question with unusual honesty. "The trouble is that the same time they discovered me, they found out I wasn't another Helen Hayes. I can't act my way out of a paper bag."
"How did you get this part?"
"Through Sam," she admitted. "He used his influence to get it for me."
"Because he loved you," Travis stated dryly.
She faced him, her chin held high in defiant challenge, pride stamped in her features. "Yes, because he loved me. It sounds like a dirty trick, doesn't it?" But I needed a job—I needed it desperately. I never lied to Sam, though. I never told him I loved him or promised him anything." She couldn't tell what he was thinking. His expression was masked. She looked straight ahead. "I always dreamed of being a famous movie star. When I was offered my first role, I grabbed at it. Because of that, my fiancé broke our engagement and ultimately married my cousin. Now I realize I'll never be a famous actress. I'm just hanging on."
"What will you do when this movie is over?"
"Find me a rich man and marry him." After she had said it, LaRaine laughed. Her dark eyes danced with mischief when she glanced at Travis. "If you'd been rich, I would have married you."
"Why
are you telling me this? Is this part of your frankness?" There was amusement in the look he returned to her.
"No." She considered her answer before she gave it. "There are some men that you can't hide things from. They find out anyway. I think you're one of those men. If I didn't tell you, you'd guess. You might as well know where I stand."
"I see," he murmured noncommittally.
"Do you? Good, because there's a party next week that some of the cast and crew are having. I'd like you to come with me," she invited.
"No." His refusal was short and to the point.
"Oh." She let out the breath in a sigh. "I have a problem, then."
"What's that?" Travis sliced her an impersonal look.
"I've already told everybody that you're taking me," she admitted without a hint of regret.
Travis chuckled in disbelief. "What is this? Are you trying to trap me into taking you so you won't be caught lying?"
"It's more a case of putting my foot in my mouth. It's a recurring disease I have. Will you help me out?" LaRaine knew it was an audacious tactic, but she sensed that boldness was the only thing Travis would appreciate.
The ranch buildings were in sight. Travis reined in his horse and whistled a signal to the dog. When the cattle had stopped moving, he looked across his shoulder at LaRaine. She waited as his inscrutable gaze skimmed her face.
"It seems I've always been easy prey for women who are in trouble and need help," he said at last.
Somehow, LaRaine had the feeling his thoughts weren't on her. He was thinking about that girl named Natalie. She thought she caught a glimmer of pain in his faraway look.
"Then you'll take me to the party?" she breathed out the question.
"Yes, but don't try to use me, LaRaine. You won't get away with it," he warned.
"Good." LaRaine bit at her lower lip to contain her bursting triumph. "I'd better be getting back. Technically, I'm not supposed to be riding this horse." She told him which day it was and what time he could pick her up and where.
With a wave of her hand she started toward the dirt road beyond the ranch buildings. Travis left the herd with the dog and rode to open the corral gate. Before she was out of sight, LaRaine saw the horse and rider and dog driving the cattle into the enclosure.
