by Stephy Smith
“Do what you gotta do. That’s what everyone told me. I’m doing what I need to for me and here they are calling to see why I’m not there. What’s wrong with these people? Can’t they understand plain English?” she bounced the palm of her hand off the steering wheel.
The dark highway spread before her. She had no way of knowing where she would go or what kind of job she’d be able to find when she got there. All she knew was she wanted to live in the foothills of Colorado. The pictures she’d seen were so romantic yet held a certain intrigue. She drove out of town headed north to the snow-capped mountains.
The first place that’s hiring I’ll apply for a job. She had enough money to pay rent and have the utilities turned on, unless the cost of living was far from the range she was used to paying.
She pulled into a convenience store and pumped her gas. Once inside she grabbed a few more snacks and paid for the gas. Several old men sat around a small table drinking coffee. She placed her items on the table next to them and slid into the bench.
“Where you headed, young lady?” an older man called out.
Shawnee raised her head and glanced around the room. She was the only female in the store. “Anywhere hiring.”
“What kind of qualifications you got?” He spat a stream of tobacco in a cup.
“Depends on the job.”
“Can you do ranch work?”
“Yes, sir. I know how to rope, doctor, and process. I have a degree in accounting. You hiring?” She was doubtful the informal interview would land her anywhere she’d like to be.
“How would you like to work for me? I can put you up in the guesthouse. You can watch over my cattle and keep my books. I’m too old to do most of it, and what I can do, like the books, well I just don’t like that job.”
“I’d be interested if you’re serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious all right. Follow me and we’ll get you settled in.” The old man crept to a beat up, ancient pickup. The engine took several turns before it cranked over. Black smoke blew in the air, and the elderly man drove down the highway.
A few miles out of town, they pulled onto a dirt road. Three miles of long sandy road stretched ahead of them before the vehicles parked in front of his house. Shawnee stuck her pistol in the front of her pants and covered the handle with her shirt. She might be desperate, but she wasn’t stupid. She followed the man into the house.
“Sit down.” He shuffled some papers on the desk. She slumped to the edge of the chair.
“My name is Donald Shuman. Most people call me Shuman. I plan to retire in a few years, and I’d like to ease my way into it. I’m too old for this jumping into something I may not like.” His smile reached her, and she relaxed a bit.
“I’m Shawnee Turner.”
“Shawnee, I’m looking for someone with all the skills you got. If you don’t prove yourself by the end of the week, I’ll pay you and ask you to leave. No hard feelings. Sound fair to you?”
“Yep, good enough.”
She settled into the guesthouse. Shuman wanted to show her the ranch, and she saddled her horse. Shuman had his horse ready by the time she reached the barn.
This was what she’d thought she wanted. So why was she still so sad?
Chapter Nine
Three years later
Shawnee sat on her horse. Her eyes scanned the vast grasslands. The sun beat down on her back as perspiration trickled down her cleavage. A slight breeze kicked up. She removed her straw hat to wipe her brow on the back of her hand.
“I’m gonna miss Colorado, Sally.” She patted the gray mare. “I wish ole Shuman would’ve told me his plan to sell out. I would’ve bought this place.”
A tear slid down her cheek. One last glance, and she nudged the horse down the hillside to her trailer. She removed her saddle and tossed it in the back of her pickup. Sally ducked her head. Shawnee replaced the bridle with a halter, rubbed the mare between the ears and brushed Sally’s slick coat.
“Well, we better hit the road.” Sally walked into the trailer with her ears tilted to the sound of Shawnee’s voice. She walked to the door and pulled on the handle.
Her eyes clouded, and she reached for the box of tissues on the seat of the pickup. Having to leave the ranch was like being handed the death sentence for stealing a candy bar. Her new home, one she made for herself, a life of ease without the involvement of anyone slid through her fingers. The landscape filtered by in blurs.
An excitement of going home again overwhelmed her. The years she had been gone were peaceful and calm. There was something about returning to familiar territory, which set her heart in a rejoicing mood.
The connections to old friends filtered in one at a time. She giggled to herself at some of the things they had done or said from time to time. Just reminiscing over old times about people she went to school with and now wondered what had happened to brought sunshine to encase the memories. Her thoughts turned to the boys she had dated in high school, young men in her college years and then there was Emory.
She shook free of the piercing blue eyes assaulting her mind. Shawnee’s frazzled emotions intensified as she recalled how deeply she was hurt. “The one who got away.” Sparks of pleasures she packed in the back of her mind opened to reveal how much she still cared for the man. She couldn’t wait to put this day behind her.
She eased the pickup onto the highway and headed south.
“Darn you, Emory Creek,” she muttered, and struck the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “And you, Cheyenne, for telling him I need a job.”
She reached for the radio knob and turned up the music, she hoped would drown Emory from her mind. Although she hadn’t talked to him in three years, he occupied a space within her she couldn’t seem to erase.
Her heart picked up the pace when she crossed the state line into Texas. In about an hour, she should be in the parking lot of the Lost Boys for her new/old job. She tensed and took a deep breath at the thought.
The never ending plains stretched into a sea of tall, golden grass that swayed in the wind. Her shoulders straightened. She white-knuckled the jerks on the steering wheel from the rutted road to the old house where she grew up. She unloaded Sally, penning her in the corral, then unhitched the trailer and slid into the pickup to head for the sale barn.
Shawnee stood in front of the yellow brick building. Removing her Stetson, she ran her fingers around the brim. She stared at the slim window in the corner. Her head bowed to blink back the sting of the sun. A strange quiver ran down her spine. With a dry mouth, she exhaled a long breath and walked to the door.
Her insides tumbled with the delight of seeing her sister. How would she feel at first glance of seeing Emory for the first time since she left a few years ago? It was time to find out. She straightened her shoulders, sucked in her stomach, and entered the outer office.
“Hello, Carla.” Her voice was low. She stood still and waited for Carla to look up.
“You made it! You’re here,” Carla’s broken voice choked. She jumped from her chair and ran to Shawnee. Her outstretched arms pulled Shawnee to her chest.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for all the bright stars over Texas,” Shawnee returned Carla’s smile and clutched both of her arms. The pair did a short happy dance as they twirled in a circle.
“Nothing’s changed around here. Not even your office.” Carla nodded her head to the closed door. She pulled the key from her desk and tossed it to Shawnee. The excitement of memorable surroundings synchronized with new job jitters. If only there were other options in the small town she wouldn’t have to return to a job she wasn’t sure she was ready to take. As soon as she got off work she would purchase a paper and scan the want ads. Maybe one of the feedlots or dairies would need someone. She could only hope.
Shawnee walked to the office. She raised her hand to flip on the light switch. Her eyes fixed on the clutter of the desk. A slight ‘humph’ slipped through her lips as she crossed the room. Her fingers caressed the smooth
, polished wood so familiar to her once.
She eased in the chair to stare at the picture of her and Cheyenne still perched under leaves of an overgrown ivy. Her gaze went to the wall where the old picture of her parents, brother, she, and Cheyenne still held its place. Bone colored blinds covered the window between the two offices. Rose print curtains hung on the slim window in the corner of the room. The only thing that had changed was the carpet covering the floor. She walked to the window and pulled the curtain back with a shaky hand.
A lump formed in her throat. She looked down on Emory’s back and it was as if time had stood still all these years. His muscles strained against the fabric of his western shirt. His long fingers pointed to the cowboys he spoke to.
Her eyes met Mason Randall’s. A smile crossed his face and he nodded to Cheyenne. She smiled and wiggled her fingers to the pair. It was the first time she had seen them since they eloped to Las Vegas to profess their love for one another.
Emory’s head jerked around. Shawnee’s hand went to her chest. Her fingers fiddled with the top button on her shirt. Frozen at the window, the emotions she’d worked so hard to forget rushed into her mind. With one little gaze, her heart raced just like it had years ago. Her mouth parched and her breath caught in her throat.
Emory jumped from the back of his horse and landed on his feet at a run. The handsome man disappeared within seconds. Jingling spurs beat to the rhythm of the hasty footsteps closing in on her office. A sudden splurge of goose bumps raised on her arms. She heard the door close behind her and turned to his rugged, tanned face.
He hurried across the room. Emory’s outstretched arms lifted her easily to twirl her in the air. Her stunned silence filled the room, and he set her on the floor. He lifted her long braids to his nose. Shawnee tried to pull her eyes from him as the tiny fingers of uncertainty twisted her gut.
His lips crushed down on hers and exploded the flood of pleasure built up in her. The minty smell of his breath fluttered across her cheek. His tongue found an exposed earlobe and pulled it into the warmth of his mouth. She choked back a moan and leaned into his taut body. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she tightened her grip.
She reeled as everything happened so quick. The bewilderment of how her body reacted without thinking obscured the way she planned to react. Her plan to stay in control of herself fell from her grasp as his nearness took over her senses.
His sweet masculine aroma drifted to her nose along with the slight smell of horse sweat and cow manure. The delightful touch was gentle but firm as his knuckles slid down her cheek and sent her flesh scorching in the wake of his touch. His heart beat through his shirt, pounding against her breast. She could feel the pulse in his neck on her lips. Her mind twisted her desire into roaring flames. Her hands moved across his broad chest. Without warning, she pushed him away.
She cleared her throat. “Hello, Emory.” The quivers of her voice were uncontrollable.
“I’ve missed you.” He pulled her closer again. His low husky drawl spiked uninvited emotions. The ones she had carefully packed in the dark recesses of her heart and soul. Love being the main one she pushed to the bottom of the pit. He was unpacking all she had worked to hide with his mere touch.
“We need to keep this arrangement strictly business.” She stared as the dimples in his cheeks deepened.
“Whatever you say, but you know that won’t happen. Welcome back, Shawnee.” He turned and walked from the office, leaving the door open.
She slumped down in the chair. A few deep breaths calmed her wicked wantonness for the arrogant man. Her fingers rubbed across her lips. The taste of his minty kiss lingered on her tongue. His masculine odor hung in the air to send passionate shivers down her spine.
“Here we go again. You’re gonna break my heart, and I have no place to run this time, Emory Creek,” she whispered to the walls of the office.
She sighed and straightened the files on her desk. Her eyes crossed from staring at the computer screen. She stood and walked to the outer office. “I’m walking out to see Cheyenne.”
Carla waved her out the door. Shawnee took the back door and walked down the slush pit alley. Pens full of bawling yearlings lined both sides.
Cheyenne sat on her horse. She glanced up and down the alley before she pulled the latch on the gate to free a rambunctious pen of overactive calves.
“Heads up.” Cheyenne’s voice floated down the alley.
Shawnee closed in on the fence to let the cattle pass. Cheyenne reined her horse to a stop. She dismounted, her feet hitting the ground at a run and she hugged her sister. They talked for a few minutes, and Shawnee collected the key to the house from Cheyenne.
“Do you and Mason want to have supper with me tonight? We can catch up on old times.” Shawnee propped an elbow on the fence.
“Sorry, tonight’s Mason’s parents’ anniversary dinner. We’ll try to stop by afterwards.” Cheyenne shooed a straggler calf away that refused to enter the ring.
Shawnee followed the calf to the ring and walked back to the office to settle in with the files.
Carla cleared her throat from the doorway. Shawnee’s head snapped and she wagged her index finger in the air. “If that file belongs to Emory, you handle it. He isn’t going to pull that crap on me again.”
Carla remained in the doorway, laughing. Shawnee shook her head at the memory of her first encounter with Emory Creek.
Just like old times, Emory. You’re still the jerk I remember. She flipped through the file and signed it. Only this time, she smiled at the memory and knew despite everything, she still loved him.
“I’m going home,” she told Carla. “I’m not supposed to be here until tomorrow. I had to come get the house keys from Cheyenne. I’ll be in around six to start on the pile of paperwork on my desk.”
The journey to the house was safe and satisfying. Now she knew how she would react to the sight of Emory scared her. At least at home she could relax in her own little world and wouldn’t have to worry about her body’s betrayal of wanting to cling to the man. The worst part of coming home was clearing the emotions from the air. She pulled into the drive and pushed the button on the garage door opener. Screeches from the door squealed as the door crept up. Slowly she inched forward and stopped. Taking a deep breath she grabbed her bags and walked through the kitchen to her room.
The air in the house was stuffy. Shawnee raised the windows, beat the dust from the couch and chairs, and wiped the rest of the furniture down. The house had stood vacant since Cheyenne married Mason. There was no longer that homey feel. On the other hand, it was now her home and she would bring life back to it with artistic décor of her liking.
The freezer and refrigerator doors stood open. She started a grocery list. After a long hot bath, she’d make the trip to the store.
Her eyes closed and all she could see was excitement in Emory’s eyes. A far cry from three years ago when all she saw was his pain when she announced she had to leave. Shawnee lay in the tub for a few more minutes then lifted herself out.
What have I done? Why did I agree to come back and clean up the mess his last bookkeeper made in the accounting books for Emory? I’m here now, might as well make the best of this situation.
She wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel, pulled her dryer from the bag she brought in, and dried her hair. A glance in the mirror to apply cream to her face and she was ready to go. Her eyes narrowed at the image.
“I can’t even enjoy a bath without your haughtiness ruining a peaceful moment to myself, Mr. Creek. I’m going to hate you with vengeance this time around,” Shawnee tried to convince herself and knew there was no way she could ever hate the man.
Chapter Ten
The sun shone in the bedroom window, the alarm screamed, and her hand hit the off button. She shimmied out of bed to take a shower. The warm pulsating water invigorated her skin. Renewed and full of energy, she dried off. With little effort, she slipped into her clothes.
Shawnee trembled at
the thought of seeing Emory today. She stilled her hand long enough to make a few swipes with the mascara wand and added a little lipstick. Her confusion as to why she ran from him was no clearer today than at the time it happened.
Carla greeted Shawnee with a smile and a donut. The place held its usual buzz of cattlemen. Spurs jingled from the café before they faded down the hallway.
Shawnee settled in with little to worry about. The sky was clear and she pulled the curtain open to let the light in. The fresh spicy smell of Emory came from the doorway. Shawnee lifted her head to see his frame fill the door. She took a deep breath.
“Come on in, Emory.” She motioned to the chair.
He turned and closed the door. Slowly he approached the chair and pulled it closer to the desk. Muscular arms folded on the edge of her desk, his gaze intense as he sat silent for a few uncomfortable moments. Emory lowered his eyes to his hands; his shaky voice was soft and low.
“Shawnee, I can’t call it quits. There is too much at stake, and I never give up without a fight. I’ve waited for you since the day you left. I still don’t know what I did wrong. Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I can tell you this, if you ever pull a stunt like that again, you had better give me my heart back. I will not wait for it to return again. Do I make myself clear?”
Her mind seemed to have flown into another world. All she could picture was the passion that filled his eyes, the touch of his body against hers, the beating of his heart, and the burning desire that ran through her when he was near.
“Emory, you disappeared and never once let me know where you were. You came back and expected me to act as if nothing had happened and then…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t want a relationship without a commitment. I don’t share and I never will,” Shawnee said with such coolness she surprised herself.
