The Cedar Tree (Love Is Not Enough)

by McGriffith, Danni

  He grinned. "Hi."

  She glanced uneasily toward the church. "What do you want?"

  He held out the paper bag. "This's for you."

  "What is it?"

  "A peace offering."

  She hesitated, but then took the sack and pulled out the bridle trimmed with Mexican silver. Her mouth dropped open. She turned to him. "I can't take this."

  He flashed his grin at her again. "C'mon. It'll make me feel better about your dog." He held her gaze. "Please."

  She stared at the bridle in her hands. "I really can't."

  "Why not?"

  The church door behind him opened. She jerked up her head and thrust the bridle at him. He turned as Lance sauntered up to them.

  She took Lance's arm. "This is Gil Howard. You know…I told you…?"

  An unaccustomed flush of self-consciousness burned his ears. She'd been talking about him to her boyfriend?

  "He was showing me the bridle for the horse he bought from Dad," she said, her tone over-bright, but definite.

  Lance glanced at the bridle. "That looks a lot like the one you've been lookin' at," he said in a laid-back drawl. He grinned, holding out his hand. "Lance Thomas."

  He reluctantly turned his gaze from Katie and shook Lance's hand. "How y'doin'."

  "I'm glad it was you that hit Benny instead of me," Lance said. "I don't know how many times he's run out in front of me."

  He paused, his ears burning again. "Glad to help," he said shortly.

  Lance looked from him to Katie, and then back to him. "You stayin' long?" he asked, his easy-going gaze sharpening.

  "Through the summer." He wasn't used to having to look so far up to talk to anyone and it irritated him. "You helpin' move the cattle to the mountain tomorrow?"

  "No. We've got a house to roof tomorrow. Besides—" he grinned at Katie—"I'm not much of a cowboy, am I?"

  She smiled. Her gentle smile illuminated her eyes, transforming her dainty prettiness to beauty, innocent and completely void of grasping need.

  The smile wasn't his, but he could hardly breathe.

  "You're not so bad," she said to Lance.

  "Then how come you always scream with laughter and tell me I look like a scarecrow on horseback?" Lance asked, grinning.

  Katie's smile widened and she pressed his arm against her. "That doesn't mean you're not a good cowboy."

  Lance turned to grin at him. "Yes, it does." He slid his arm around her shoulders. "Hate to run, but we've got a hot date."

  She flushed and glanced quickly at him from beneath her lashes then she walked away with her gangly boyfriend, leaving him holding the bridle like a complete fool.

  Lance opened the door of an old, white Buick and Katie slid in. He folded himself to kiss her lightly, smiling at something she said then shut the door. A moment later, the Buick pulled out of the parking lot.

  He jerked open the door of his truck and flung the pretty bridle across the cab. It hit the other door with a clank of metal then slid to the floor in a tangle of black leather and Mexican silver.

  Chapter Four

  In the pre-dawn darkness the next morning, Shorty blew up his belly like a toad and jerked back on his halter rope.

  "Knock it off, Jughead."

  Gil gave the horse's underbelly a sharp, open-handed slap and Shorty hopped forward a step, releasing his breath.

  He jerked the cinch strap tight, breathing deeply of the chilly morning air, sharp with the smell of cedar and sage, and the heavy, damp smell of irrigated alfalfa.

  Anticipation had replaced his bad mood of the day before. Today, he'd have a whole day in the saddle doing what he loved, and with any luck at all, Katie would be helping move her family's cattle to summer pasture on the mountain. If she was, he'd have the whole day to make some time with her, too.

  The sky lightened behind the cedar covered knob. A sleepy crow and clucking sounded from the chicken run where his grandfather scattered grain from a battered coffee can. "You girls best step it up a little, or the stewpot's gonna be your next stop."

  He grinned at his grandfather's words as he adjusted the bridle over Shorty's ears. Then spurs clinking and the leather of his chaps slapping softly against his jeans, he moved to Lucky.

  He swung his saddle onto Lucky's back, singing under his breath. "It's a girl, my lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowin' down to take a look at me…"

  Within thirty minutes, he and his grandfather had the cows and calves strung out on the road toward the small community of Lone Tree. Then two miles south of town, the old man's herd of bawling cattle mixed with Campbell cattle like a roaring, muddy red tributary running into a black river.

  Through the dust haze, he scanned the horses on the outside edges of the herd for the blaze-faced mare Katie rode. She wasn't riding, but her dad's black pickup with its long stock-trailer crept along behind the herd at a snail's pace—she might be driving. Eyes squinted against the early morning sun, he peered at the driver's side of the truck then grinned.

  Riding up to the pickup's door, he leaned down to the open window. Katie wore what appeared to be one of her brothers' castoff flannel shirts over a red tee shirt. Her light hair blew softly around her profile in the breeze. She glanced at him and then away.

  "I thought you'd be ridin' today," he said.

  She hesitated. "I did, too." She paused. "My mom's not feeling good and Dad made me drive the pickup," she said grudgingly.

  "How come?"

  She frowned, giving him a resentful glance. "Because I'm not a boy."

  He grinned. "I'm glad you're not a boy."

  She sniffed. "I don't see what difference that could possibly make to you."

  "A lot," he said, laughing. "Believe me. You still mad at me?"

  She turned a level blue gaze on him. "I'm indifferent to you. Being mad at you would be wasted effort."

  "That's what I think."

  She rolled her eyes. "You are so full of yourself."

  He grinned. "You can ride Lucky and I'll drive if you want."

  "I'm fine."

  He glanced up. A red cow was making for someone's green lawn at the turn onto the main street of town.

  "I gotta go, but if you change your mind…about anything…let me know." He held her gaze, one brow raised in a meaningful way.

  She caught his double meaning and flushed deeply, jerking her gaze to the slow-moving rumps in front of her. "I won't change my mind."

  "Neither will I." He grinned and nudged Lucky into his easy lope, cutting the cow back to the herd just as she took her first mouthful of lawn.

  To keep the cattle from veering off onto side streets and yards, he and the others urged the herd to a trot through the little town. Dust haze hung over the bawling cattle, the roar nearly drowning the yells of the men, ringing horseshoes on pavement, and the shuffle of hundreds of trotting hooves echoing from the buildings lining the one main street—a café, bar, and post office on the east side, a small grocery, hardware store and bank on the west.

  Bringing up the rear just in front of Katie in the truck, he finally reached Dave Campbell where he sat his horse in the parking lot of the general store and gas station at the north edge of town. As cattle streamed across the creek bridge, Dave controlled his restless black with the born horseman's wiry grace while shouting and loudly slapping a gloved hand against his leather chaps. The herd turned away from him to the east and up the long hill out of the valley.

  "You want somethin' to drink from the store?" Dave shouted at him as he trotted Lucky past.

  "Sure," he yelled. "Get me a couple Cokes."

  The blacktop road out of the valley made a long, steep climb, hugging the edge of a cedar covered slope to the right, its precipitous descent ending in the raging creek of snow melt at the bottom. The cows dropped into a slow plod toward the top of the grade.

  At the quick clop of a horse trotting behind him, he turned in his saddle. Dave paused his horse at his dad's pickup then ripped three cans of soda from a six-pack, t
ossing them inside to his younger sister. Urging the black to a trot again, Dave caught up with him and with a challenge in his eyes, tossed two of the Cokes.

  Grinning, he effortlessly caught the cans.

  "You should've kept playin' baseball," Dave said with an appreciative grin.

  He slid one of the cans into his saddle bag. "You like baseball?" He popped the top on the other can.

  Before Dave could answer, agitated soda spewed like a volcano into the air and over his hand. Startled, Lucky gave a lunge and started crow-hopping. He swore and clamped his legs tight while Dave shouted with laughter.

  He glanced at Katie in the truck. She was watching, so he didn't try to get Lucky under control, just rode him until he stopped bucking of his own accord.

  Dave's horse fell into step beside him. "You got any pop left?" Dave asked still laughing.

  He shook his can and grinned. "A little."

  Dave cautiously popped the top on his own soda and drank.

  He eyed Dave's horse. "That's a good horse."

  Dave slapped its shining black shoulder affectionately. "Yeah, ol' Studmuffin's a good one."

  He laughed. "Studmuffin?"

  Dave's grin grew wide and white in his sun-browned face. "Takes after me." He took another drink.

  "Yeah. That's why we call mine Lucky."

  Dave gave a snort of laughter. Soda spewed from his windpipe and nose.

  He laughed heartily while Dave choked and coughed

  "Yee haw," Dave said still chuckling as he wiped his streaming eyes. "We should change horses."

  A fat black cow broke from the herd at a lumbering run, making for the half-mile wide strip of irrigated hay field on the left. Dave, still grinning, and soda in hand, spurred forward with a 'hup' and turned the cow back.

  After that, the two of them rode together talking baseball, horses, and trout fishing.

  "Hey," he said, finally, "who's the good lookin' Indian girl with the kid at church?"

  Dave eyed him, his clear hazel eyes suddenly wary. "Annie?"

  "What's the deal with her?"

  Color rose in Dave's face, but he shrugged. "She's kind of friends with Katie…much as she can be friends with anybody, I guess. Lives with her grandma on the old Meyers place a few miles from us."

  "She married?"

  "No. She was…er…lookin' for Jonas when she came to live with her grandma."

  He grinned, amused at Dave's virginal hesitation to say the word pregnant. "Did she find him?"

  "Yeah." Dave grinned sheepishly. He lifted his grey hat and ran his fingers through honey colored hair. "Annie's different. Special."

  He eyed the younger man. Did Dave know Annie was special to his older brother, too?

  Dave replaced his hat, avoiding his gaze. "I don't think you'll have much luck with her."

  "Hey. Not me. I always stay away from kids," he said, pulling a face. "If you date a girl with a kid, you always come second. I like your sister though."

  Dave stared at him then gave a shout of laughter. He glanced over his shoulder at Katie. "Yeah, well, good luck with that."

  He looked back at her, too, and grinned…he felt lucky.

  The road continued to climb. The cattle settled into a slow pace, the edge of exuberance from earlier in the morning gone, leaving the riders with little to do except trail along with them. He scanned the fields on his left, giving way to slopes of cedar and oak brush, and then to the vast expanses of quaking aspens and pines of the high country. Bare peaks formed the north boundary of the valley, some showing traces of snow and standing out of the skirt of forest like jags of broken teeth.

  "Man, I love this," he said almost to himself. "I don't ever wanna do anything else."

  His gaze on the peaks, Dave didn't smile. He breathed deeply, his wiry body tense with fierce satisfaction. "Yeah, me, too." He didn't need to say anything else.

  Seven miles up the mountain, not quite the halfway point, they penned the cattle in a roadside corral built for resting the herds trailing to summer pasture. He dismounted and loosened Lucky's cinches then slipped off the bridle, hanging it over the saddle horn. Haltering the big horse in the shade of a cedar tree, he glanced around for Katie.

  She strained to lift an ice chest from the back of her father's pickup.

  He wiped the wad of chew from his lip and headed for her. "Let me get that."

  "I've got it." With a final heave of her slight body, she lifted the heavy chest over the edge of the pickup bed and staggered away toward a cedar tree.

  He stepped in front of her, reaching for the handles. "You're a stubborn little thing."

  She frowned at him. "You're a thick-headed thing."

  Her hands under his provoked the same sense of complete awareness and slight bewilderment they had a few days before.

  "We should be pretty near even, then," he said. "Let go."

  A deep flush began at the neck of her tee shirt and then burned her cheeks. "I told you I've already got a boyfriend," she snapped.

  He raised his brows in mock surprise. "What's that got to do with me carryin' this ice chest for you?"

  "You know what."

  "No, I don't. Let go."

  She glared for a moment. Then, suddenly and completely, she released her hold. The heavy chest fell on his feet, spilling out its contents—cans of soda, sandwiches, and a container of cookies—on his boots.

  "There you go," she said over her shoulder as she walked away. "You can put it under that tree."

  ***

  After the noon stop, the cattle moved higher up the mountain on the road winding through oak brush covered hills above the eight thousand foot elevation. The sun burned hot. Tired and thirsty, the cattle continuously sought to break for the grass and shade under the brush, or for the creek, now a raging torrent at the bottom of a steep gorge.

  The leisurely ride of earlier had turned into work. Gil and the others labored to keep the cattle moving on the road. Yelling and whistling, they raced after cows and calves breaking from the herd, dodging an occasional charge from one of the snorting, cold-eyed bulls.

  As he worked, he puzzled over Katie's continued hostility toward him. Was it just because he'd killed her dog? She couldn't really be serious about the skinny guy at church. But maybe she was. No other girl had ever been so resistant to his efforts, let alone dumping an ice chest on his two-hundred dollar boots.

  Two miles beneath the big reservoir that supplied irrigation water to the ranches in the valley, a shout reached him. He turned. Katie's red tee shirt made a splash of color as she pushed through the cattle toward him on foot, her eyes wide with panic. He urged Lucky toward her.

  "What's wrong?" he asked sharply.

  "Dave went over the edge," she gasped, her face flushed and sweating. "Where's your gramps?"

  "He's at the front."

  She started to push past him.

  He reached down, loosening his boot from the stirrup. "Get up behind me."

  She hesitated for only an instant then reached for his hand. Stepping on his boot, she swung up behind him on Lucky.

  "Hang on."

  She held his belt then grabbed for his middle as he spurred the big horse, scattering the cattle in front of him. They encountered Karl first.

  "Dave went over the edge," Katie yelled at him. "Dad needs some help."

  Instant comprehension drained the color from Karl's sunburned face and he wheeled his horse, spurring him to a run.

  He pushed Lucky through the cattle then rounded a bend in the road behind his grandfather. "Dave's gone over the edge back there," he bellowed over the constant bawling of the cattle. "Jon needs some help."

  An expression of dread passed across the old man's face and he turned Shorty and headed down the road at a stiff legged trot.

  Tim shoved through the livestock toward them. "What's wrong?" he yelled.

  "Dave's gone over the edge back there." He twisted toward Katie. "Do I need to go back, too?"

  Her hands on his be
lt trembled. Fear strained her face. "Dad said we need to take the cows on up there."

  He glanced around. The cows were leaving the road at a run, dispersing into the oak brush on the hill above them.

  He turned to Tim. "You go back to the tail and I'll try to get 'em gathered up and headed the right way again."

  Tim nodded and urged his horse into a lope down the almost empty road.

  "Tim," Katie shouted, "let me on behind you."

  Tim didn't stop. She gave a frustrated exclamation.

  "You're all right where you're at," he said, shoving his hat farther onto his head. "Hang on tight." He spurred Lucky up the hill and into the brush.

  An hour of hard riding later, he had the cattle gathered again and headed around the reservoir nestling in an open depression among pine and aspen covered hills. In that hour, he and Katie had barely spoken, but she had clung to his belt with a silent tenacity that surprised him. At times she held around his middle, taking shelter from lashing branches behind his back. Awareness of her slender body pressing against him filled him with exhilaration in spite of the gravity of the situation.

  The cattle finally settled into a plodding walk around the lake. Panting and sweating from the effort of the past hour, he rode Lucky down to water's edge to drink. While the horse drank, he loosened his canteen and shifted in the saddle to offer it to her. She gave it a longing glance, but then shook her head and turned away.

  His throat was so dry he had to swallow before he could speak. "Why are you so stubborn all the time? Take it."

  She reluctantly took the canteen. Her slender throat moved as she gulped the water then she handed it back to him.

  He drank deeply then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. "Did you see what happened to Dave?"

  Worry filled her eyes. "A bull got after him on the edge of the road there where the shoulder's so narrow. He yelled and popped him with his rope, but the bull wouldn't back off. The shoulder of the road must've crumbled. All I could see was Studmuffin's legs thrashing around before he disappeared."