Dude Ranch Bride

by Madeline Baker

  “Cindy, honey, I’m sorry. Is he. . .”

  “It’s bad, that’s all I know. The doctors haven’t said too much, but they don’t seem very optimistic.”

  He heard the tears in her voice, wished he had the right to be there with her, to hold her hand and offer what little support he could. Damn his quick temper and his big mouth. She needed comfort, not a tongue-lashing. “Cindy, listen, I—”

  “My mom’s calling me. I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Ethan.”

  He stared at the phone after she hung up, feeling like a first-class jerk.

  “Everything all right?” Dorothea asked.

  “No,” he muttered, realizing that if he didn’t get Cindy back, his life would never be all right again. “I need some time off.”

  “How much time? We’re booked solid through October, and we’re short-handed as it is. You know that. I can’t spare you right now.”

  “Dammit!” Ethan brought his fist down on top of the counter.

  “Do you want to tell me what this is all about?”

  “Cindy’s dad had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital.”

  “Did she ask for you to be there?”

  “No.” He grunted softly. “She called to tell me what had happened, but did I give her a chance to explain? No! I accused her of running off, as if that matters when her old man’s at death’s door.”

  “Take the truck,” Dorothea said. “It’s more reliable than that old car of mine.”

  “What about. . .?”

  She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll get by. I can ride drag on the trail rides if I have to. I’ll call Two Hawks and ask him to send over some dancers from the rez to fill in for you. Just don’t be gone too long.”

  Leaning over the counter, he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Dory,” he said, calling her by the nickname he hadn’t used since he was a little boy. “Ask Rudy to look after my horse, will ya? Wolf can take care of himself.”

  “Will do.” Reaching under the counter, she plucked the truck keys off a hook and tossed them to him.

  He caught them in midair. “I’ll make this up to you,” he promised.

  “Sure you will. Try not to burn up the road between here and there.”

  Cindy blinked back her tears as she went back to sit with her family. Joe had shown up a short time ago, along with his wife, Kim, and their three kids. Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Ilsa had arrived shortly thereafter. Her father’s business partner, Thad Norwood, was also there, apparently having just arrived. They sat in a group, making small talk, drinking Cokes, or coffee from foam cups. Joe’s youngest son, Joe, Jr., was asleep on his father’s lap.

  Cindy shook hands with Mr. Norwood, then sat down beside her mother, wishing Ethan was with her. She was afraid in a way she never had been before, and she wanted him there to keep her fears at bay, to assure her that everything would be all right. And if it wasn’t . . . then she wanted a strong shoulder to cry on. But he wasn’t here, and after the way he’d acted on the phone, she had changed her mind about asking if he could possibly come and stay for a day or two.

  She blinked back her tears and forced herself to pay attention to what was being said. She couldn’t fall apart, not now, not when her mother needed her to be strong. But she didn’t feel strong. Just sad and scared and lonely.

  At midnight, Joe took his family to the house so Kim could put the kids to bed. Mr. Norwood took his leave about the same time, saying he would call in the morning. Jimmy and Ilsa decided to take a walk and see if they could find something to eat that didn’t come out of a vending machine. Her mother was dozing in her chair.

  Rising, Cindy stretched the kinks out of her back and shoulders, then picked up her mother’s coat and covered her with it. She hated hospitals, hated waiting, hated not knowing if her dad would ever leave this place alive.

  Walking down the hall, she stared out the window into the empty darkness, then lowered her head and tried to pray.

  She didn’t know how long she had stood there when she realized she wasn’t alone. Lifting her head, she saw her reflection in the dark glass, and a tall, broad-shouldered man standing behind her. Her heart skipped a beat as she slowly turned to face him.

  “Ethan.” His name slipped past her lips. He was wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, a cowboy hat and moccasins. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

  She went to him without hesitation, closed her eyes as his arms wrapped around her. One prayer, at least, had been answered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ethan held her tight, afraid he might never find the strength to let her go. He could count the times he had been afraid, really gut-wrenchingly scared, on the fingers of one hand, but none of those measured up to the apprehension he had felt while waiting for Cindy to turn around. If she had ignored him, slapped him, told him to get out of her sight and never return, he wouldn’t have blamed her. Hell, it would have been no more than he deserved.

  He stroked her back, buried his face in the wealth of her hair and held on for dear life. He felt her trembling, felt her tears soaking through his shirt, and held her tighter.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured. “It will be all right. Shh, darlin’, don’t cry.”

  Sniffling, she lifted her head to look at him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He went suddenly still. “Do you want me to go?”

  “No!” She clutched at his shirt. “Don’t go. Oh, Ethan, I’m so afraid he’s going to die. And he can’t die. He just can’t!” A great shuddering sob wracked her body. “Our last words to each other were spoken in anger.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he drew her back into his arms and held her close when she began to cry again.

  It was then that Claire Wagner woke up. A moment later Joe stepped out of the elevator and Jimmy and Ilsa rounded a corner, carrying a tray filled with sandwiches and cups of coffee.

  Cindy didn’t know how long she might have stood there, clinging to Ethan, if he hadn’t cleared his throat and loosened his hold on her.

  Her mother was staring at Ethan as if she was seeing a ghost.

  Joe, Jimmy and Ilsa all came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Cindy locked in a stranger’s embrace.

  If she hadn’t been so worried about her father, she would have laughed at the expressions on their faces. Her mother appeared shocked. Joe looked as if he might take a swing at the man who dared hold his sister so intimately. Jimmy seemed faintly puzzled and Ilsa looked envious.

  And then, just when Cindy didn’t think things could get more awkward, the elevator opened and Paul walked out, looking as if he had just stepped off the cover of GQ.

  Claire spoke first. Shrugging the coat off her shoulders, she stood up. “Cindy, why don’t you introduce your friend.”

  “Yes, Cindy, why don’t you do that?” Paul said, sneering. “I’m sure they’d all like to meet the man you left me for.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed ominously.

  Cindy squeezed Ethan’s arm. “This is Ethan Stormwalker. Ethan, you know my mother, Claire. That’s my older brother, Joe, and my aunt and uncle, Ilsa and Jimmy.”

  Ethan nodded.

  “What’s he doing here?” Paul asked.

  “I could ask the same of you,” Ethan retorted.

  “Gentlemen, please.” Claire moved to stand between the two men. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

  Paul put his arm around Claire’s shoulders. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  With the ease in tension, they went to sit down. Paul sat on one side of Claire, Joe sat on the other. Cindy sat next to Ethan, clinging to his hand as if she would never let him go. Jimmy and Ilsa passed out the sandwiches and coffee, and then they, too, sat down.

  It was near dawn when the doctor appeared. Cindy squeezed Ethan’s hand.

  The doctor’s gaze moved over each of them, then settled on Claire. “I think he’s out of the woods. We’ll know f
or sure by tomorrow night.”

  Claire sagged against her son, her eyes brimming with tears of relief.

  The doctor smiled, obviously pleased to be able to give them good news. “Why don’t you all go home and get a good night’s sleep? If there’s any change one way or another, we’ll give you a call.”

  Claire shook her head. “I don’t think—”

  Cindy stepped forward and took her mother’s hand. “Come on, Mom. He’s right. We could all use a good night’s rest.” She patted her mother’s arm. “You don’t want Daddy to see you looking like this. He’ll wonder why you aren’t in the bed beside him.”

  Her mother laughed softly. “All right.” She stood and extended her hand to the doctor. “Thank you. But you will call if there’s any change? Any change at all?”

  “Certainly. Go home and try not to worry. I’m sure the worst is over.”

  Cindy helped her mother gather up her things, while Joe rang for the elevator.

  Ethan hung back, all too aware that he was not there at Cindy’s invitation, and not part of her family.

  He stood beside her in the elevator going down, equally aware of her ex-fiancé‘s doleful expression.

  Outside, they all paused under a streetlight.

  “Our car’s in a lot on the next block,” her uncle said. “We’ll meet you at the house.”

  Claire nodded, then turned to Paul. “Thank you for coming. We’ll call you if there’s any change.” It was a clear dismissal.

  Paul mumbled something and gave Claire a hug. He glanced at Cindy, who was standing beside Ethan, then looked at Ethan for a long moment, his expression positively lethal, before he walked away.

  “Mom, why don’t you leave your car here and I’ll drive you and Cindy home?” Joe suggested.

  “That’s a good idea, Mom. I think you should go with Joe,” Cindy said. “I think I’ll leave my car here, too. That way, I can go with Ethan.”

  “Wait a minute, Cindy, I don’t think you—”

  She gave her brother a quelling glance. “It doesn’t matter what you think, brother dear,” she said, her tone sugary sweet. “I think it’s a good idea.” She took Ethan by the hand. “Shall we?”

  With a nod, he led her to where he’d left the truck. Unlocking the door, he helped her in, then went around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. To save his soul, he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  She solved the problem for him. “Thank you for coming. You’ll never know how much I wanted you here.”

  “Honey, I’m so sorry for the way I reacted when you called. I had no right to talk to you that way. I should have known you wouldn’t leave like that without a good reason. On the drive here. . .” He grinned ruefully. “I didn’t know if you’d even talk to me.”

  “But you came anyway.”

  “You were hurting. I didn’t know if I could help, but I had to try.”

  With a wordless cry, she fell into his arms and buried her face against his chest. He held her close and for that moment, he was sure that, in spite of all their differences, they could work it out.

  He sat there, content to hold her, until the lights of a hospital security truck flashed across the windshield.

  “We’d better go,” he said. “The doctor was right. You need to get some sleep.”

  She cuddled close to his side as he drove her home.

  When he turned down her street, he was reminded once again just how vast the gulf between her lifestyle and his really was. There were only a few houses on the block, and they all sat on well-manicured lawns behind wrought-iron gates or high brick walls. There were no potholes in the street, no dogs rummaging through the trash, no rusty cars or old sofas left to rot in the sun, no drunks puking on the side of the road. Ethan swore under his breath. He didn’t belong here. Would never belong here.

  He pulled up to the gate in front of her house, waited while she rolled down the window and spoke to the guard. Moments later, Ethan pulled through the gate. The driveway was lit by small lanterns all the way up to the front of the house, where a porch light burned brightly. The rest of the house was dark, save for a single lamp in the front window.

  Ethan switched off the lights and the engine. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course.” She smothered a yawn behind her hand. “Let’s go in. I’m exhausted.”

  He stared at her, wondering if he’d heard her right. “What?”

  “Come on.” She tugged on his hand.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Well, I do. Come on, you might as well spend the night here instead of looking for a motel.”

  “I don’t think your mother. . .”

  “She won’t mind.”

  “Your brother will.”

  “Too bad. I live here. He doesn’t.” She tugged on his hand again, harder this time. “Come on, I’m too tired to argue about this.”

  Reluctantly, he grabbed his duffel bag out of the back of the truck and followed her up the wide front steps. She opened an elegant door of frosted glass and carved oak, and he followed her through a large foyer with a floor of black and white marble tile, into a large, high-ceilinged room with furniture so pristine and elegant he wondered if it had ever been used.

  “The guest rooms are upstairs,” she said in a low voice. “Come on.”

  He followed her up a winding stairway. Thick, forest-green carpet muffled his footsteps.

  She stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Just make yourself at home. There are clean sheets on the bed. It you want to take a shower, there are clean towels in the bathroom.” She pointed at the door across the hall. “That’s my room.”

  He stood there, feeling like a green kid with his first date, wondering if he dared kiss her good-night here, in this house.

  “Good night, Ethan,” she whispered.

  ‘“Night.”

  Rising on her tiptoes, she slipped one hand behind his neck and kissed him. “Thanks again for coming. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He nodded, watching the sway of her hips as she crossed the hallway and opened the door to her room. She wore a pair of stretchy black pants that fit like a coat of paint and made his mouth water.

  She stepped inside, smiled at him over her shoulder and then closed the door.

  Stifling the urge to follow her, he turned and stepped into a room that would have held his mother’s whole house.

  He dropped his duffel bag on the floor beside the bed and tossed his hat on the back of one of the wooden chairs. “Unbelievable,” he muttered as his gaze moved over the room.

  The walls were a rich beige color, the carpet a dark chocolate brown, the spread on the king-size bed some sort of brown, blue and white print. There was a curved sofa and a rocking chair covered in the same material. A small round table and two wooden chairs occupied one corner; an antique writing desk stood against one wall. There was a fancy looking lamp on the bedside table. The door beside the bed led into a walk-in closet; the door across from the bed led to a bathroom with a double shower and a sunken bathtub.

  He stared at the tub. She’d told him to make himself at home, and while he had never had a home like this one and wasn’t likely to ever have one, he decided to take her at her word. Bending over, he turned on the tap.

  Cindy had changed into her nightgown and was turning down the covers on her bed when she heard the water running. She glanced over her shoulder, her imagination springing to life at the thought of Ethan taking a bath just across the hall. She wished she had the right to join him in the tub, to wash his back, to share his bed. . . .

  She jerked her thoughts away. It wasn’t safe to travel that road, or to get her hopes up too high, and yet she couldn’t help it. He had left the ranch to come after her. She still couldn’t believe it, or forget the way her heart had leaped at the mere sight of him. Nor had she realized how much she needed him until she saw him standing there, tall and strong. No othe
r arms could have comforted her the way his did. And now he was here, in her house. Did he remember the first time he had been here? He had been uncomfortable then. How did he feel now? Could he get past the differences between them? Would seeing where and how she lived drive him away? She had a sudden, vivid image of the reservation. What if he asked her to marry him and live with him there? Could she do it?

  She glanced around her room. It was done in shades of blue and green and white. She had a soft bed, warm blankets. Her curtains and bedspread matched the wallpaper. There was a thick carpet on the floor. She had heat in winter and air-conditioning in summer. She had thirty pairs of shoes, two closets filled with clothes and a new car every year. She had a maid to wait on her, a cook who fulfilled her every culinary wish, and parents who loved her. Could she give it all up for Ethan?

  In a heartbeat, she thought, and slipping under the covers, she closed her eyes and let her imagination run wild as she pictured Ethan in the tub, just across the hall.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ethan woke at first light. Lying there, with his arms folded behind his head, he found his first thought was for Cindy. He spent a pleasant few minutes picturing her curled up under the covers, her tousled hair spread over her pillow like black silk, her skin warm and sleep-scented. He let himself contemplate what it would be like to slip into her room and wrap his nakedness around her, to ease his desire in her sweet flesh. Would she welcome him? Or shout the house down? When the heaviness in his groin became more than he could bear, he thrust her image from his mind and rolled out of bed.

  He dressed quickly in a pair of clean jeans and a red plaid shirt, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. For a time, he paced the floor, wondering how much longer it would be until Cindy and her family got up. He didn’t feel welcome or comfortable in her house. If he had, he would have gone downstairs and made himself a cup of coffee, but he didn’t think that was a good idea. He didn’t want her mother accusing him of overstepping his bounds, didn’t want to have to explain himself to her brother.