by Janet Dailey
When the two men drifted away, Alison exchanged a look with Edie. "We'd better find Jerry."
He was in the auction area, halfway up the wooden bleachers that half circled the sale ring. Edie and Alison hurried up the steps to where he was seated and whispered to him what they had overheard, keeping their voices low so others around them couldn't hear.
"There's no point in staying around here, then, is there?" Jerry concluded when they had finished, the line of his mouth thinning out.
"We know the cards are stacked against us, but I think we should play out the hand we've been dealt before we ask for a new deck of cards and change dealers," Edie murmured.
"What do you have in mind?" Jerry eyed her with a glint of admiration and wary amusement.
"I think we should let Maddock go on believing that his dumb tenderfeet haven't caught on to his game plan. Then he won't be expecting us to do anything else," she replied. "We won't talk about it now, though."
"Okay." He glanced at Alison. "Where's my cup of coffee?"
"Oh, damn." A stricken look of regret widened her eyes. "I left it sitting on the counter. Somebody's probably taken it by now."
"Thanks a lot, sis." He shook his head in resignation and started to rise.
"No, stay here." Edie put a hand on his arm to detain him. "They're bringing the first group of cattle in. I'll get you a cup."
When the cattle were turned into the auction ring it was a signal for everyone loitering in the halls and snack bar to enter at once. Edie had the feeling she was trying to go down an "up" stairway as she edged her way down the steps against the stream of ranchers and cowboys going the opposite way. She was nearly at the bottom when she happened to glance up from the wooden steps straight into a pair of slate-gray eyes. The steps seemed to rock beneath her. The heel of her boot hooked the edge of the board and she would have fallen headfirst down the last step if a familiar pair of hands hadn't caught her and lifted her the last foot to the ground. Edie was conscious of the warm, firm imprint of his hands making themselves felt through the material of her floral blouse. The sensation wasn't unpleasant.
"You'd better watch where you're going," Maddock stated as he released her.
Her gaze flew to his tough, male features, the light of battle sparking in her hazel eyes. "That has a false ring to it, Maddock. Aren't you really hoping that we'll fall flat on our faces?" she challenged, and didn't wait for him to reply as she pivoted and fought her way against the current of crowd to the snack bar.
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Chapter Five
THE MORNING AFTER THE SALE, Edie leaned against the board fence of the corral and gazed inside at a pair of frisky calves. Several months old, the Hereford calves were already showing the hefty build indicative of their breed. The pair was the only livestock they had succeeded in buying at yesterday's sale. Crossing the corral from haying the horses, Jerry vaulted the fence to stand beside Edie and watch the skittish but curious pair of calves.
"It's up to you, Alison," he said to the tall girl perched atop the rail, "to bring home their mommas from Wyoming."
"I wish you were going instead of me," Alison sighed in apprehension.
"Maddock is convinced that Jerry will be buying our cattle. If he goes to Cheyenne, Maddock is going to guess that we're going out-of-state to purchase our stock cows. I don't know how long his influence will continue, but I don't want to find out," Edie replied. "He'll never suspect in a hundred years that we'd send you to buy cattle."
"Neither would I," Alison declared.
"How many horses have you bought at auctions?" Jerry challenged. "You know the procedures. Just make sure you get a health certificate and don't pay more than I told you."
"I don't think I like being an adult," Alison smiled suddenly. "Too much responsibility." She uncurled her long legs to climb down from the rail. "Why do you suppose Maddock let us buy these two calves?"
"Guilty conscience," Edie stated.
"He was probably afraid we might starve, so he let us have a couple of calves that we could butcher in the fall," Alison suggested, and laughed at the thought. "He doesn't know we have an income separate from the ranch."
"Yes—Joe's patents. Maddock probably thinks we are depending on the ranch for our sole support," Edie agreed, her dimples coming into play. "Wouldn't you love to see his face when he finds out differently?"
"I was just thinking," Jerry interrupted their laughter, "I'll bet these calves are a carrot Maddock is dangling in front of our noses to keep us attending the local sales."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Alison agreed.
Edie rested her chin in the cup of her hand to watch the calves nosing a half a bale of hay Jerry had tossed in the corral. She tried to smother a convulsive burst of laughter and only partially succeeded.
"What's so funny?" Jerry eyed her curiously.
"I was just remembering all the grandiose plans we made last winter." She couldn't keep the laughter from bubbling in her voice. "We were going to become big cattle ranchers. And that's the sum total of our herd!" She waved toward the two calves. "It would take us longer to catch and saddle our horses than it would to round up and brand those calves!"
"I'm afraid you're right," Jerry chuckled.
"We did say we were going to start small," Alison reminded them.
"This small?" Edie laughed.
"Why not this small?" Alison challenged, making a joke out of it. "We can start out with two the way Noah did. Next year we'll have four, then eight, then sixteen. Why, in twenty years we'll have a herd."
Both Edie and Jerry broke out in laughter. "You have a problem with that theory, Alison." Edie tried to check her laughter long enough to explain and failed.
Jerry did it for her. "Those are bull calves!"
Then all three were overcome with laughter. Holding her stomach, Edie leaned heavily against the fence, tears steaming down her cheeks. The laughter was a release for all of them—a release from days of hard work, frustration and tension. It turned something only mildly amusing into an object of hilarity. Alison fell against Jerry, laughing too hard to stand on her own. He circled an arm around her and reached out to draw Edie inside the curve of his other arm.
"Edie, you are the only person I know who can find something to laugh about when it looks like your dreams might be dissolving," he declared in a laugh-winded voice.
"Neither one of you would win a prize at being serious," she retorted.
"That's because of you!" Releasing Alison, Jerry circled Edie's waist with his hands and swung her in the air, lifting her above his head. "You are the greatest, Edie!"
"Put me down!" she shrieked in laughter.
Jerry set her on the ground and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I don't care who knows of it," he declared. "Do you, Alison?"
"No." The two exchanged a look that transmitted a silent message.
In the next second Edie was covering her ears as the pair of them tipped their heads back and shouted to the sky at the top of their voices. "Edie Gibbs is the greatest mother in the world!"
"Help, you've stampeded our cattle," Edie laughed as the calves bolted to the far side of the corral.
The helpless laughter was on the verge of starting again until Alison sobered with unexpected swiftness to stare behind them. "Oh, oh," she murmured in a small voice. "We have company."
Edie turned, wiping the tears of laughter from her cheeks. A blue-and-white pickup was parked in the yard, with the driver's door held open by the man standing near it. Maddock shut it when they all looked at him. Edie wondered how a man could be so powerfully built and not look like a muscle-bound freak. He started toward them, and the three of them moved forward together to meet him halfway.
A lazy smile was making attractive grooves in the sun-browned cheeks while his dark gray eyes were silvered with a glint of amusement and curiosity. Edie felt the magnetic pull of his male charm. Sexual and potent, it quivered along her nerve ends.
"I can't reme
mber the last time I saw three people laughing so hard," he remarked. "What was so funny?"
Edie hesitated. "It was a family joke."
"I don't think you would appreciate the humor of it," Alison added.
"Is this a neighborly visit or business?" Edie questioned to change the subject. The indefinable warmth that had been present now vanished as a wintry briskness took over the rancher's manner.
"Business," he admitted.
"We haven't changed our minds about selling," she informed him.
"I didn't think for one minute that you would give up so quickly," Maddock murmured dryly, but his mocking look said they would eventually. "No, it was another matter that I wanted to discuss."
"Which is?" Edie prompted with an icy coolness.
"The below normal rainfall we've had this spring has hurt my grazing land. I don't want to risk overgrazing it, so I'd like to make you an offer to lease your land to run my cattle on," he explained.
"But if we leased our land to you, where would we run our cattle?" she challenged.
"You don't have any cattle, Mrs. Gibbs," he pointed out.
"Not yet," she admitted. "But we hope to acquire a small herd soon. We already have two calves." Let him think they were stupid and gullible, Edie told herself. Anger surged when she saw the glimmer of a smile he tried to conceal.
"I think there would be enough pasture for your herd and mine," Maddock replied with mocking inflection.
Playing dumb didn't suit her. "I don't think you want to lease our land because the lack of rainfall has affected yours, Maddock," she said, and was rewarded to see the faint quirk of an eyebrow. "I think your land is overgrazed because it's overstocked. You have been buying a lot of cattle lately." There was a slight narrowing of his gaze. "We aren't interested in leasing you any of our land, but if you want to sell us some of your extra stock cows, we would be glad to discuss that with you. Naturally we would want to pay a fair market value for them, but you are a fair man, aren't you?"
He held her gaze for a long, hard moment. "I'm not interested in selling my cattle at the moment."
"It doesn't look like we can do business, then, does it?" She countered. "Because we aren't interested in leasing you any land."
"Very well." Maddock accepted her answer with a brisk nod. "Let me know if you change your mind."
"Yes," Edie agreed with a honeyed smile. "And you let us know if you change yours."
"Of course." The slanting line of his mouth formed a smile of grudging approval with a hint of admiration. Edie had a fleeting glimpse of it before he turned to walk back to his truck. Maddock had let her claim victory in this battle, but the war wasn't over. The war of the sexes was never over. A tingling shock ran down Edie's spine. Where had she got the idea that this was a man-woman struggle? That was absurd. It was the ranch they were fighting over. Maddock wanted it, and she was just as determined not to let him have it. It had nothing to do with sex.
Inadvertently she recalled the firm grip of his hands when he had caught her yesterday to save her from falling down the auction steps. And the previous time when he'd held her, supported her while he swiftly and expertly dispensed with the ribbon of barbed wire. Unbidden, she remembered the warm, musky smell of leather, sweat and horse mixed with the scent of shaving lotion. The combination was unique to Maddock, a stamp of his male individuality.
Even now the virile scent of him lingered in her memory, honing her senses to a keen edge. Just for a second, Edie permitted a spark of curiosity to wonder what kind of lover he would be—masterful, knowing; both of those without a doubt. Like her, Maddock had been married, so making love would hold no secrets. But his hands, when they explored her body, would they…
Heat flamed molten hot over her flesh when Edie realized what she was visualizing in her mind. What was the matter with her? She had never indulged in such fantasies about Joe before she married him. Edie rationalized that away with the reasoning that she had been innocent of the act itself, and she hadn't been tempted to use her imagination. Edie was shocked that Maddock had aroused her sexual curiosity when not a single other man had—not even Joe, the one person who might have.
"Why the frown, mom?" Alison's question was light and innocent, yet it pulled Edie sharply out of her reverie.
Maddock's truck had completed its circle and was bouncing over the rutted land away from the ranch yard. Edie was struck again by the abrupt way he kept entering and exiting her life.
"Just once I'd like to hear that man say hello and goodbye," she retorted.
"It would be a novelty," Jerry agreed. "Well?" He glanced at the two of them with a raised eyebrow. "Shall we get to work?"
"Yes." There was a grimness in Edie's agreement. "We have a lot to do, and I want Alison to leave first thing in the morning."
A VIOLENT SPRING THUNDERSTORM ARRIVED on the heels of Alison's departure. The deluge confined Edie to the house, where there was plenty of work to be done. Jerry used the time to work on the tractor, which had been running roughly, and make certain the hay baler would be ready when they needed it.
Intermittent rain showers plagued the area for three days. The only ray of brightness came from Alison's telephonecall of a successfully accomplished mission and the date when the shipment of stock cattle would arrive.
The rain made preparation for the impending shipment impossible. Edie kept herself busy with the house, which had been neglected recently, but she would have preferred to be outside. All day long she consoled herself with the knowledge that the rain was needed. Proof of that was demonstrated by the way the parched ground soaked it up as quickly as it fell.
Yet at night when she was alone in the front bedroom with the fingers of rain drumming on the roof, Edie tossed restlessly in the double bed. She finally tossed the pillow next to hers onto the floor, but it hadn't helped to ease her tension. Most of her married life she had gone to bed alone while Joe had puttered in his workshop, so why did sleeping alone bother her now?
She tried to convince herself that these yearnings tormenting her were natural. After all, hadn't she read that a woman's libido reached its peak in the mid thirties? Grief had no doubt suppressed these longings. Now that it had begun to wane, it was natural they would surface.
And there was a logical reason why the image of Will Maddock's face kept flitting through her mind. With the cattle on their way, she was subconsciously trying to imagine his reaction to the news. That's why she kept seeing those smoke-gray eyes look at her with such unnerving steadiness, those hard-cast features etched with strong, sun-creased lines and that mouth cut in a male shape. These recollections had nothing to do with the brief flight of fancy her senses had taken the last time she'd seen him.
Stifling a moan with her fist, Edie rolled onto her side and faced the empty width of the bed. Her hand reached out to the emptiness beside her. "I did love you, Joe," she whispered tightly. A little voice inside reminded her that there were many kinds of love, and the force of one did not negate the strength of another. Many kinds of love existed side by side, one not diminishing another. She hugged the blankets more tightly around her and closed her eyes, listening to the drumming message of the spring rain on the roof.
The sun came out the morning the semitrailer-trucks arrived with the cattle. With Alison back and teaming up with Jerry, it was easy for Edie to forget her restive stirrings and join in with their jubilant spirits. Herding the cattle to a section of the range where there was plenty of grass and water was a festive occasion.
It was after one o'clock when they reached the valley meadow. Within minutes the cattle were scattering out to graze in the knee-deep grass, lush and green after the rain. Everything was washed clean, the air crystal clear, the colors of the trees and hills more brilliant than before. Wild flowers were bobbing their heads in the tall grasses and peeking out of rocky crags.
"Let's eat our lunch on the saddle of that ridge." Alison motioned toward the hollowed crest between two hills, treeless and possessing an unob
structed view of the valley.
Her suggestion was quickly seconded by Jerry, and the three of them rode their horses halfway up the slope and tied them in the shade of a stand of white-barked aspens. Rocky boulders offered hard seats for them to sit on while they ate their sandwiches and sipped at hot coffee from the thermos. Yet the plainness of the food didn't alter the picnic atmosphere that predominated.
"I really feel as if we own a ranch now," Alison murmured.
Looking down at the valley floor where the mixed herd of Hereford and Angus grazed, Edie studied the shiny black hides that glistened in the sunlight and contrasted with the rust-red coats of the white-faced Herefords. She, too, had the feeling that what had long been a dream had finally taken the form of reality.
"We've worked hard these last months," Jerry added in an equally quiet voice. "But looking down there at that sight is quite a reward in itself."
There was a clatter of hooves on stone behind them. Edie turned to see a horse and rider top the crest and rein in. Unconsciously she rose to meet the silent challenge of Will Maddock's presence, a little pulse hammering in her throat.
"One of his spies must have told him about the cattle, and he had to see it for himself to believe it," Alison whispered in a caustic under breath.
Except for a cursory glance at the herd grazing in the valley, Maddock exhibited no further interest in the cattle. His attention seemed to be focused on Edie. To enforce the impression, he guided his horse over the exposed rock face to where she was standing. He rested his gloved hands on the saddle horn as he tipped his head down to look at her.
"The storm knocked down a tree on your fence line. I thought you should know," he stated. "It's wise to check for damage after hard storms. Sometimes a small creek can turn into a raging torrent that wipes out a whole section offence. Flash floods aren't uncommon here."
The sting of his criticism smarted. Edie was well aware that he was taking the opportunity to point out how inexperienced they were. A trio of tenderfeet, he'd called them.
"It was thoughtful of you to come all this way to tell us." But there was a bite to her polite response.
