Palomino (1981)

by Steel, Danielle

  At the end of the day's work Samantha looked as fresh and alive as she had at the beginning, and Josh commented on it with disgust as she hung up her saddle with a grin.

  Christ, woman! Look at you, Sam, tough as nails. Three weeks ago you could hardly walk after a day's ride, you were so out of shape. Now you fly off that damn horse and look as bright-eyed at six o'clock at night as you do in the morning when you get up. Makes me sick. You ought to be carrying me back to my cabin. My ass is sore as hell, and my arms are killing me from roping those damn steers. Maybe what you need is to shake your butt and work a little harder.

  Bullshit. I worked harder than you did today!

  Oh, yeah? He snarled playfully at her and swatted her behind with his hat as she walked past.

  Yeah! She ran past him with a grin on her face and a long blond ponytail tied with a bright red ribbon. She had almost flown in her saddle all day long. All she had been able to think of was Tate Jordan, but neither of them had given anything away as they worked. If anything, he had been indifferent and almost surly, and she had done her best to ignore him the few times they might have had occasion to speak. He spoke to her casually only once over coffee at lunchtime and then strolled away to chat with some of the other men while Sam hung back with the ranch hands she knew best. It was only now that the day was over that she allowed her thoughts to soar toward Tate again. All day she had remembered moments of their night together, an instant, a glimmer, the shape of his leg as he had lain naked and uncovered amidst the tousled sheets, a look in his eye as he leaned toward her to kiss her again, the way the back of his neck looked as he lay down for a moment with a happy sigh and let her run long, tantalizing fingers slowly down his tingling spine. She loved the way he looked and the way he felt and what he did to her, and now it was all she could think of as she ran back to Aunt Caro's house. She had no idea when she might see him alone again. His cabin was highly visible, so near to the main hall where the men ate, and Aunt Caro was back from her brief trip with Bill. It was obvious that a meeting between them would take some arranging, but she felt certain that he would find a way. The thought that now he and Bill King would both tiptoe into the house and then creep out again at midnight brought a gurgle of laughter to her lips as she opened the front door.

  My, aren't you happy this evening, Miss Samantha. Caroline eyed her with pleasure from where she sat. And for the first time in four months she saw John's familiar face and felt not a twinge. She checked for a moment, narrowed her eyes pensively as she watched him, and then shrugged with a small quiet smile as she went to her room to wash up.

  I'll be back in a minute, Aunt Caro.

  When she returned, they shared dinner, only tonight Samantha found herself wondering where Tate was. Was he in the main dining hall with the others? Had he opted to stay in his cabin and cook for himself, as a few of the men did? But most of them preferred to eat dinner with the others. Even the men with wives on the ranch often came to the main hall after dinner for coffee and a smoke and the companionship of the men they rode with all day long. Suddenly Samantha ached to be with them, but she also sensed that if she joined them all of a sudden in the evening they would begin to wonder why she was there. They accepted her in their midst in the daytime, but in the evening they expected her to stay at the big house with Caroline, where she belonged. It would have shocked them to see her there in the evening, and it would have been impossible to seek out Tate without causing comment. Someone would have easily figured it out. Gossip on any ranch was rampant, and there was a kind of sensitive radar that all of them seemed to have. Romances and marriages and divorces were almost instantly discovered, along with illicit affairs and illegitimate babies, which made it all the more remarkable that Bill King and Caroline had kept their secret for so long. Even if some of the old timers, or those who knew them well, suspected, no one on the ranch had ever been sure. Samantha found now that she respected that and understood all the more how difficult the clandestine life-style must have been. Now she felt herself fairly throbbing with excitement, aching to be with the man, to talk to him, to laugh, to tease him, to touch him, to go for a walk in the night air, to look up at him with interest and pride and hold his hand, and after that to come back to her bedroom and discover each other's bodies once again, as they had the night before.

  Do you want some more salad, Samantha? They were halfway through dinner before Samantha seemed to remember where she was. For half an hour she had been silent and dreamy and drifting as Caroline watched her and wondered what was the cause. Sam didn't look unhappy, so she didn't think she was upset that Caroline had been watching the newscast. She didn't look homesick. In fact she looked fine, so it had to be something else. Something wrong, Sam?

  Hmm?

  Something right?

  What? ' Oh ' I'm sorry. Samantha blushed like a schoolgirl and then shook her head with a brief girlish laugh. No, I was just distracted. It was a long day today, but I enjoyed it. It was the only way she could explain the outrageous glow she knew she wore and the look on her face.

  What on earth did you do?

  Nothing special. Roped some horses, checked the fences, the men roped some steers this afternoon.' She tried to remember. Mostly she had dreamed about Tate. It was just a nice day really.

  The wise old woman watched her closely. I'm glad that you're happy here on the ranch.

  Samantha's face grew oddly serious as she remembered. I am, Aunt Caro. I'm happier here than I've been anywhere else in a long time.

  Caroline nodded and addressed herself to her salad as Samantha went back to dreaming of Tate. But it wasn't until the next morning that she saw him. The night before she had heard Bill King come and go, with envy this time. But there had been no way that Tate could come to her, and as she lay in her bed, longing for him, she smiled to herself, it was like being eighteen and having an illicit affair. She felt suddenly young and girlish, terribly clandestine, and impatient to be with him again.

  It was seven o'clock the next morning, Sunday, when she gulped her coffee, zipped up her jeans, donned her jacket, brushed her hair one last time, and then ran out to the barn, hoping that she might find him there. As it turned out, when she got there, there was no one. The men who had come to feed the horses had already gone back to the main hall to eat, and she was alone in the huge barn with the familiar horses, each one in its stall, quietly eating or resting or softly greeting each other, as Samantha slowly made her way to Black Beauty's stall. She ran a hand slowly down his muzzle and then felt the soft whiskered lips brush her hand, looking for something to eat.

  I didn't bring you anything this morning, Beauty. I'm sorry, boy.

  Never mind him. The low voice came from behind her. What did you bring me?

  Oh! She wheeled around to face him, startled, and before she could catch her breath, he had taken her swiftly in his arms, almost crushing the air out of her lungs as he held her and kissed her quickly, and then let her go.

  Good morning, Palomino. He spoke in a whisper and she blushed.

  Hello ' I missed you.

  I missed you too. Do you want to go to the cabin this morning? Anyone even a few feet from them couldn't have heard him speaking, and Samantha nodded quickly with a bright light of anticipation in her eyes.

  I'd like that.

  I'll meet you at the south fence, in the clearing. Do you know where that is? He looked suddenly worried as he watched her as though he were afraid she might get lost, but she only laughed.

  Are you kidding? Where do you think I've been all week long while you've been working?

  I don't know, babe. He grinned at her. Same place I've been, I suspect. Halfway out of your head.

  You're not far wrong. And then, as he made to go, she grabbed at his sleeve and whispered, I love you.

  He nodded, brushed her lips with his own, and whispered in answer, I love you too. See you at ten. And then he was gone, his heels clicking loudly on the barn floor, and a moment later as he turned a bend there wa
s a shouted greeting to two of the men coming to tend their horses. A moment earlier and they would have seen him kissing Samantha. Instead all they saw now was Sam diligently feeding Caroline's best horse.

  They met at five minutes before ten in the south clearing, their horses fresh, the sky blue, their eyes bright with desire. It was a little crazy, this brand-new passion, she couldn't explain it but deep in her gut, she knew that she had to be with him, and she was ready to make a commitment to him for the rest of her life. She tried to explain it to him later that morning, as they lay in the big comfortable brass bed in the pale blue bedroom, their bodies tired, their hearts light, and his arm encircling her as she nestled at his side.

  I don't know, Tate, it's as if ' as if I've always been waiting for you. As if suddenly I know what I was born for.'

  You mean screwing? He grinned at her and rumpled the exquisite hair.

  Don't call it that. She looked hurt.

  I'm sorry. He kissed her softly and touched her face. Making love. That's what it is, you know, no matter what I call it.

  I know it is. She moved closer to him with a happy smile and closed her eyes. It must be wrong to be this happy. It's certainly indecent. Her eyelids fluttered and he kissed the tip of her nose.

  Is it? Why? He looked just as happy as she as he lay there. Why don't we have a right to feel like this?

  I'm not sure. But I hope we do and for a very long time. Their thoughts went in unison to Bill and Caroline, who had lain in the same bed before them and were still together after such a long time.

  It's crazy, Tate, it's all so new between us and it just doesn't feel like it, does it?

  No, but if you don't stop talking about it, I'm going to start treating you like you've been around for the last twenty years.

  And then what?

  I'll ignore you.

  Just try it. She ran a slender finger up the inside of his thigh and stopped interestingly where his legs joined.

  And just what is that all about, Miss Samantha?

  Hang around and I'll show you. She teased in a sultry voice and he put a hand between her thighs. They were the oddest combination of teasing and serious, and through the entire morning there was always the feeling that they had been there before and been part of each other's lives for a very long time. It was almost impossible to realize that the relationship was a brand-new one, and Tate seemed to feel as comfortable as she did as they wandered naked through the tiny house.

  Did you see the photo albums, babe? he called out to her as she made sandwiches in the cheerful little kitchen from the provisions he'd brought. He sat on the couch, with a blanket over his naked shoulders, his feet extended toward the bright fire. The fireplace hadn't been cleaned since the last person had used it, so they felt certain that no one would discover that they'd been there from whatever ashes they eventually left in the grate.

  Yeah, they're great, aren't they? There were photographs of Bill and Caroline, and other people on the ranch, dating all the way back to the early fifties, and the two new lovers chuckled fondly as they glanced through the pages, watching people cavort years ago in front of outdated cars, in funny bathing suits and odd hats. There were a few pictures of rodeos, and there were even some photographs of the ranch before some of the newer buildings had been built. Gee, it used to be a lot smaller.

  He smiled in answer. One day it should be a lot bigger than this. This could be the finest ranch in the state, maybe one of the best in the country, but Bill King is getting old, he isn't as anxious to see it grow. Leastways not anymore.

  What about you? Is that what you want, Tate? To run this ranch someday? He nodded slowly, being honest with her. He had a great deal of ambition, all of it centered around this ranch.

  Yeah. I'd like to make it something very special one day, if Miss Caro will let me. I'm not sure she will, while old Bill is around.

  Samantha spoke softly, almost reverently. I hope he always will be, Tate, for her sake.

  He nodded slowly. So do I. But one day, one day ' there are some things I'd like to change on this ranch. Closing the album carefully, he began to tell her. An hour later he glanced at the electric clock in the kitchen and stopped. Listen to me, Sam, I could go on like this for hours. He smiled sheepishly but it was obvious that she had enjoyed it.

  I like hearing about it. And then after a minute, Why don't you start your own ranch?

  But he laughed and shook his head. With what, little Palomino? Good wishes and old beer cans? Do you have any idea what it would cost to start a decent ranch? A fortune. Not on my pay, babe. No, all I want is to be one hell of a foreman, not an assistant foreman, but the real thing. The man in power. Hell, most of the ranchers don't know their ass from a hole in the ground. The foreman is the one who keeps the place running.

  You do that here. She eyed him proudly and he gently touched her hair and then cupped a hand under her chin.

  I try, little Palomino. I try when I'm not playing hookie with you. You could make me almost sorry I'm working. All I wanted to do yesterday was come here with you, and make love to you and sit by the fire and feel good.

  Samantha stared into the fire with dreams in her eyes. So did I. And then after a moment she turned her eyes back to him. What are we going to do, Tate?

  About what? He was teasing her. He knew what she meant.

  Don't be cute. You know what I mean. And then she giggled. The other night I had this vision of you and Bill King tiptoeing into the house and bumping into each other in the dark. They both laughed at the image and he pulled her close, with a pensive look in his eyes. He had already mulled over the possibilities, and all of them were complicated, none of them was ideal.

  I don't know, Sam, it would be a lot easier if it were summer. We could come here every night after work and ride back in the moonlight under the stars. But it's dark as hell now when we finish, and I'd be afraid one of the horses might stumble and get hurt.

  We could carry lanterns.

  Sure. He grinned at her. Or hire a helicopter, why not?

  Oh, shut up. Well' what are we going to do? Do you want to try sneaking into Aunt Caro's?

  He shook his head slowly. No. They'd hear us, just like you told me you hear him coming in every night. And my place is so damn wide open. All it would take would be for one of the men to see you, just once, and it would be all over for us.

  Would it? Samantha looked strained as she said it. Would it really be so awful if they knew? He nodded slowly. Why?

  It's not right, Sam. You are who you are and I am who I am. You don't want them talking and neither do I. But the truth was that she didn't give a damn. She thought she loved him, and she didn't give two pins what anyone said. What could they do to hurt them? But she saw in his face that it was a sacred rule. Ranchers didn't fall in love with ranch hands.

  Samantha looked at Tate squarely. I'm not going to play the same game they've played, Tate, not forever. If we stay together, I want people to know it. I want to be able to be proud of what we have, not afraid of who might find out.

  We'll cross that bridge later. But she had the feeling that he wasn't prepared to move an inch in her direction, and suddenly she bridled and the light in her eyes was as stubborn as his.

  Why? Why not start dealing with it right now? Okay, I understand that we don't have to advertise to everybody right this minute that we're having an affair. But hell, Tate, I'm not going to sneak around forever.

  No. He said it very quietly. Eventually you're going back to New York. The words hit her like a wave of cold water, and when she spoke again, there was ice and pain in her voice.

  What makes you so sure?

  Because that's where you belong, just like I belong here.

  Is that right? How do you know that? How do you know that I'm not like Caroline, that I haven't decided I don't want that kind of life anymore, not that my life is like hers was?

  You know how I know? He looked at her with the full wisdom of his forty-plus years. Because when Ca
roline came here, she was a widow, she wanted to give up the life she had shared with her husband, because he was gone. And she was forty years old, Sam, that's not the same as thirty or thirty-one. You're young, you still have a lot of living to do, a lot of your crazy commercials to put together, a lot of deals to make, a lot of buses to catch, phone calls to make, planes to miss, parties to go to.'

  And I couldn't do some of that here? She looked hurt and he eyed her gently, with wisdom and tenderness and love.

  No, little one, you couldn't. This isn't the place for that. You came here to heal, Sam, and that's what you're doing, and maybe I'm just part of that. I love you. I never laid eyes on you before three weeks ago, and I haven't really given a damn about a woman in years, but I know I love you. I knew it the first day we met. And I hope you love me. But what happened to Bill and Caro is a miracle, Sam, they don't belong together, and they never will. She's educated, he isn't. She's led one hell of a fancy life, and his idea of class is a solid-gold toothpick and a fifty-cent cigar. She owns the ranch and he ain't got a hill of beans. But she loves him, and he loves her, and this was all she wanted. For my own reasons I think she was a little crazy, but she'd had another life, and maybe after that this was enough for her. You're different, Sam, you're so much younger, and you've got a right to so much more than I could give you here. It was totally crazy, they had known each other for less than a month, and only been lovers for two days, and yet they were talking about the future as though it really mattered, as though there were even a question of their staying together for the rest of time. Samantha eyed him with amazement and then looked at him with a small smile.

  You're crazy, Tate Jordan. But I love you. And then she took his face in her hands and kissed him, hard, on the lips and then sat back and crossed her arms. And if I want to stay here, if this is the life I want, whether I'm thirty or ninety or eighteen, then that's my decision. I am not Caroline Lord, and you are not Bill King, and you can save your damn self-sacrificing speeches, mister, because when the time comes, I'm going to do exactly what I want to do. If I don't want to go back to New York, you can't make me, and if it's you I want for the rest of my life, then I'll follow you to the ends of the earth and bug you to death until you announce it to every last goddamn ranch hand, and Caroline and Bill. You're not going to get rid of me as easily as you'd like to. You got that? She was grinning at him, but she saw that there was still a broad streak of resistance in his eyes. It didn't matter though, he didn't know her, and the truth of it was that with only one recent exception, what Sam Taylor wanted, she got. Got that, mister?