by Neva Brown
With such limited space in the cabin, Tres and Casey brushed against each other, creating an electric charge in the air as they unloaded Rosalinda’s generous response to Tres’ request for food. Pot roast, vegetables, salad, blackberry cobbler, and yeast rolls filled the room with mouth-watering aromas.
The Border Patrol agents sat on a bunk against the wall with a map of Dark Canyon spread across their knees as they asked questions and marked the map.
“Casey can tell you more about what’s in that canyon than I can,” Tres informed the men as they pressed him for information. “She trained young horses for rough-country work down in that mess a few years ago.”
“Are there some good trails for getting in and out?” Kirby, the young, redheaded agent asked.
Casey frowned at Tres. She didn’t want to discuss topography with two strangers while her body hummed with desire for Tres. “No, the slopes going down in the canyon along this rim are gravelly and the brush is too thick to ride through in lots of places. I used game trails. There’s one about a quarter of a mile from the cabin that I used a few years back.”
Ned spoke up. “Is it good enough to travel in the dark?”
Casey hesitated. “It would be risky. Javelinas use the trail and they’re inclined to think they have the right-of-way. Also, the last big rain probably washed out some of the deep narrow gullies making it even more dangerous.”
The sun set and darkness cloaked the canyon long before the four of them had finished supper and their discussion of night travel. Common sense prevailed. They vetoed the idea of a night trip to check out the lights.
Tres had a hard time concentrating on the problem in the canyon. He wished he could dismiss everything and everyone else so he and Casey could be alone. That was out of the question, for now. With stern discipline, he gave his attention to the situation in the canyon that could be volatile.
Casey rose from the table. “I’ll take care of cleaning up, if you three want to go watch for the lights,” she said. “Then I’ll head back in. Do you want me to take anything back with me?”
Tres balked at the thought of her leaving, all the time irritated with himself for wanting her near. “If you can hang around, you might help pinpoint the location of the light, if they show up again tonight. Of course, if you need to get back to Brad, we’ll manage.”
Casey bristled like an offended kitten at his tone and responded with measured words. “Call Mattie Lou on yor pickup radio so she and Brad won’t have to wonder where I am. My cell phone doesn’t work here.” With that terse exchange of words, she turned to the watchful patrolmen. “My guess is the lights Tres saw were coming from a spring-fed water hole about five miles north of here. Kirby, if you’ll help Tres with this mess, Ned and I’ll go stop the windmill wheel from turning and climb to the platform to see if lights are visible from another spring seven or eight miles to the south.”
Tres’ hand caressed her neck and shoulder for an instant as he returned to the cabin from using the radiophone in his pickup. “Mattie said she would tell Brad so all is well.”
Casey frowned at him.
He grinned and felt good again. He had her attention, and he liked that.
A half-hour later, with the supper mess cleaned up, Tres and Kirby went to see what Ned and Casey had found. Tres climbed the tower. He heard Casey’s voice become louder as he drew near the top. She sat with his night-vision binoculars to her eyes, giving Ned directions for locating the lights at the distant springs.
“I see lights appear and disappear,” Ned said.
Casey said, “It could be the wind moving the tree branches or people moving about carrying lights.”
Ned replied, “They don’t seem to be going anyplace if they’re people moving. They’re just milling around. Seeing Tres, he added, “We’ve already located lights where you saw them last night.”
Casey handed Tres the binoculars and scooted over to make room for him on the platform as she called quietly to Kirby. “Come on up and we’ll see if I can help you both get your bearings for getting to these places.”
Knowing how far sound can travel on a quiet night, they talked softly. Ned and Kirby, using penlights to see, marked their map as Casey talked about landmarks and obstacles.
Finally Ned said, “If you could lead us along those game trails in the morning, maybe we can clear this up without having to call in extra help.”
Before Casey could answer, Tres said, “Casey’s still doing rehab trying to recover from nearly getting killed in a horse accident. She’s not ready for rough-country hiking yet.”
Casey knew he was right, but wanted to scream at him for taking the choice away from her. She admitted to herself that climbing the windmill tower had put a tremendous strain on her leg, hip, and shoulder and knew negotiating rough terrain was out of the question.
The night winds picked up, so they left the tower. Before long, Ned and Kirby were in their sleeping bags they unrolled on the porch. Alone inside, Tres and Casey moved about the small cabin preparing for the night.
Chapter 10
Casey set her old toiletries kit that she’d found in her pickup on the kitchen cabinet. She poured water into a cup and turned around, leaning against the cabinet. She trembled, not from fear or cold, but from a coiled desire spiraling up from deep inside as she watched Tres pull off his boots.
When Tres looked up and saw the uncertainty on her face, he held out his hand to her.
“Don’t fret,” he soothed. “This is not the time or place for what we are both thinking about.” He grinned at her. “It looks like we may be forever doomed to be working buddies.” He couldn’t believe how good it felt to sooth her worries even with his body roaring a mating call.
Casey took his hand. He tugged gently and settled her onto his lap. Tucking her head into the curve of his neck and hugging her close, he smoothed his hands over her reed-like body that quaked at his touch.
Reminded of what she had promised herself about Tres last night, Casey tried to marshal her thoughts. But thoughts eluded her. She raised her head, placed her lips on his and snuggled close twining her arms around his neck.
Tres gathered her close as his lips moved to taste her neck and shoulder, where he had slipped her shirt off. Her soft sigh heated his body as his hand sought her breast that throbbed when he cupped it. He brushed his thumb across the pebble-hard point. Through the fog of desire in his brain, he heard her whisper, “I’ve dreamed of you for so long, longing for your touch.”
Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her to the bottom bunk and stretched her out. Running his hand down her side, he stroked her hip and thigh. His hand stilled. Her muscles, taut and hot, left no doubt about the pain there. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re hurting?” he asked, his breath mingling with hers.
“Because I want this more than I want to ease the pain.”
“We can wait until you don’t hurt. We have time.” He unzipped her jeans. “Help me get your jeans and shirt off so I can massage those muscles.”
She wiggled away a little. “No, that’s not a good idea.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why, because you think I don’t know what’s going on with your body? Come on, Casey, we’re both adults.”
“But . . .”
He tugged the jeans off and dropped them on the floor then slipped an arm under her shoulders lifting her to his chest. “You’re not the only one having a little trouble with this, but I kept you from being close to your therapist who would work out the pain, so let me do what I can.” When he eased her back down, her shirt was off.
Desire swirled through him, but, with an iron will, he controlled it and began to rub and knead the knotted muscles on her hip and leg. “Does it hurt like this at the end of every day?”
“No, climbing the windmill tower created a different strain than I’m accustomed to. I have very little pain anymore, unless I overdo.”
Tres watched her eyes darken as he massaged. They glowed like emeralds
as her body responded to his touch. He felt the tautness finally ease and the quivering stop, but the need for sexual release he saw in her made him change his touch from healing to caressing. Scooting her over, he stretched out on his side next to her on the bunk.
Casey’s eyes widened as she felt his hardness against her side.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe. Ride the wave of what you feel while I watch over you.”
With perfect trust, Casey responded to the demands of his kisses, loving the taste of him. Her hands roamed over the hard, rippling muscles under his shirt and felt his body heat as he ministered to her secret spots. Her body rocked with the rhythm of his hands, then spiraled into a mind-numbing need before shattering into a melting release that soothed her mind, body, and soul. In that unguarded moment, she sighed, “I love you.”
She snuggled against him. While his body raged with need, she breathed a contented sigh and slept, unaware of the effect her sweet body had on him.
Serves you right for rushing your fences, Tres, old boy, so grin and bear it.
After a time, he took a cold shower and climbed into the top bunk. He closed his eyes and listened to Casey’s gentle breathing beneath him. He had some serious thinking to do. Her response had been like those of an inexperienced girl. He wondered if that was a part of her life she had not remembered yet. The “I love you” he deemed to be more of a ‘thank you’ for the feeling of euphoria than a declaration of love.
The inky blackness just before dawn was not new to Casey, but it always gave her an eerie feeling. The sound of men’s voices on the porch and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee brought her to full wakefulness. How would she face Tres? What had started out to be a massage turned into something she had often dreamed of, but didn’t know how to handle in reality.
Embarrassed at her inexperience, she gathered up her clothes that had been folded neatly at the foot of her bunk and hurried to the bathroom, a shed room on the side of the cabin. When she returned, Tres was cooking breakfast. She helped him, thankful for work to do rather than having to talk. The ambiguity of still wanting him and being uncomfortable with what had happened last night made her shy away from him.
A hasty breakfast of bacon, eggs, oven toast with butter and jelly was consumed. Ned and Kirby left to join their comrades.
“Aren’t you going with them?” Casey asked.
Tres shook his head. “No, I learned years ago to let professionally trained people do what they do best and for me to do what I do best. I’d be in their way, might even put them in danger without intending to.”
“Do you think whoever’s in the canyon is really dangerous?”
Tres put the last of the cabin dishes in the cabinet. “Ned got word earlier about a militant group gathering secretly for war maneuvers. He said they would proceed with the possibility of that group being the people in Dark Canyon. Then, there is always the possibility of something illegal being smuggled across the border.”
They packed away the remaining food into the container that Casey had brought in the night before.
“We need to get back to the Mansion,” Tres said. “I have a conference call about landowner water rights at eleven.”
“Is there anything I can do here to help?” Casey asked.
Tres shook his head. “No, Dan’s coming with a few men to be available if the patrolmen need assistance. Sheriff Griffin and his deputies are already around someplace. I heard him on Ned’s radio earlier.” Leaving the cabin clean and ready for use, they drove their separate vehicles back to Spencer Mansion.
Casey automatically wrestled her pickup over the bumpy pasture road, letting her mind wander to the feelings she’d experienced last night as Tres touched her in ways and places she’d never been touched before. Her body tightened and heated in longing and need. What she would give to spend a lifetime loving him, then going to sleep beside him with that incredible, all-is-right-with-the-world feeling. She gripped the steering wheel with hands that longed to touch him all over—every inch of him. Suddenly she remembered the feel of the hot, throbbing length of him that had pressed against her relaxed body as she slipped into a contented sleep. She’d soaked up the tender care and had soared with the sexual fulfillment he’d lavished on her and she’d done nothing for him. When had she become so wrapped up in her needs to the exclusion of others needs? Her face heated with shame and embarrassment, then her eyes blurred with tears.
Heaven help her! She knew all the biological mechanics, but she’d never even had a steady boyfriend she’d experimented with.
How in the world could she expect to satisfy the needs of a sophisticated, man-of-the-world like Tres?
She need not have worried, she thought, as days went by and the demands of life kept her from even seeing Tres.
Casey marveled at MacVane Manor. Mattie Lou’s ancestral home, resplendent with lights, was dressed up to welcome the committee members and civic ‘powers-that-be’ who made the Festival a success. Each year, the night before the festival started, they enjoyed exquisite dining and dancing at MacVane Manor. The men looked splendid in their dress suits, while the women made fashion statements to rival anything seen in the big cities. Tomorrow, they would be in denim, promoting the West Texas ranch world image, but tonight they were dressed to the nines and enjoying every minute of it.
At dinner, Casey sat at Tres’ right, feeling like she was in a dream. She viewed the dining room with wonder in her eyes.
Danish lead crystal, Bacchanal English bone china, and Francis I sterling silver graced the white linen-clad formal dining table. At the other end of the table, Mattie Lou, in a midnight-blue velvet dress with a sweetheart neck that framed an intricately designed diamond necklace, sat with Brad to her right. The earrings that matched her necklace flashed in the light of the chandelier as she raised her glass to toast her guests.
Earlier Casey had watched a woman named Valerie, gorgeous in dark-red satin and ruby jewels, maneuver place cards before dinner so she sat to Tres’ left. Casey wondered if she was an old flame or maybe a not-so-old flame.
Tres couldn’t keep his eyes of Casey. She had no idea how regal she looked, sitting at his right in her bronze silk dress with long sleeves and high-neck, which made a perfect background for the chunky turquoise necklace, bracelet, and dangling earrings. Earlier, when he’d asked her about the jewelry, she said she’d won the unique jewelry at a cutting competition in Albuquerque. The stones accented her green eyes and the bronze silk dress shimmered in the same light that created highlights in her auburn hair. He felt territorially proud of her.
With the serving of the first course, the conversation became punctuated with laughter that filled the room. Valerie’s loud response to a guest seated halfway along the table and her shrill laugh made Casey stiffen.
Attuned to Casey, Tres lowered his head to her ear and whispered, “What is it?” Casey stared at him with troubled eyes. “I’m not sure. Some strange memory flashed through my mind, then disappeared.” With a quiet chuckle, she added, “That’s what happens I guess when you bang your head on a pipe fence.”
Valerie’s attention snapped back to them like she, too, felt an undercurrent of tension. “What have I missed? I hear you two have been spying out militants in your spare time. Are you discussing secrets about that?”
Tres put his hand on Casey’s. “I’m afraid all we can take credit for is showing the Border Patrol agents some lights. They took it from there.”
The mayor, to whom Valerie had been speaking, joined in the conversation. “Just what is going on? The sheriff said something about an ongoing search. Are we going to have another ideological stand-off like that Republic group a few years back?”
“I doubt it’ll come to that,” Tres said. “We’re making arrangements to clear the brush out of the section of Dark Canyon that runs through the Running S. With matching state and federal water conservation funds that I learned about this week, we can clear it all within the next two years.” Turning the conversation aw
ay from the militants or whatever it was, Tres continued. “I talked with the committee on water conservation in Austin a few days ago. All land owners on watersheds should be getting information on the conservation bill for funding in a few days.”
Opinions on water conservation and rights set the dining room abuzz as the main course was served. Not wanting to relinquish Tres’ attention, Valerie asked, “Do you think I need to consider investing in that program for my ranch?”
“I’m not familiar with your place, so I don’t know.”
“Maybe you can take a quick look during the tour tomorrow and tell me what you think.”
“The county agent will be your best source of information,” Tres said.
“I’m never sure about government-paid people. I’d feel better if you would advise me. Besides, I still want you to see the Hancock mare I bought.” Valerie smiled. “You could even bring Casey to put the mare through her paces.”
“Casey is not back to serious riding.”
“Oh, really! Does she have permanent damage?”
The tone of Valerie’s voice caught Casey’s attention and that sense of forbidding raced through her mind again. “Did you purchase the mare for competition or for breeding?” Casey asked.
A flicker of annoyance crossed Valerie’s face. “The former owner said she would need more training before putting her in competition. I’d hoped Tres could recommend a good trainer, maybe even you.”
“I’m not planning on doing training, but a young man who helped at the horse sale is a good trainer. He’s here in college.”
Obviously not happy with the direction the conversation had taken, Valerie pointedly turned to Tres. “While I’m thinking about it, I have some friends who are going to Australia in hopes of buying a ranch there. They’re coming to see my ranch sometime in the next few weeks and would like to talk with you about your experience over there.” Satisfied she had cut Casey out of the conversation, Valerie pursued her prey with the feminine wiles of a longtime hunter.
