Silken Threads

by Barrie, Monica

  “You awake or asleep, boss man?” came a husky, feminine voice.

  Kirk opened his eyes and focused on Jane Paulson. “Can’t sleep?”

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” Jane replied as she sat on a chair next to Kirk.

  “You haven’t been having any more problems with the men, have you?”

  “No, the nonsense stopped about three months ago when I realized you were right. They didn’t hate me; they just wanted to see if I could hack it.”

  “Confidence in your own abilities is the proper phrase.”

  “I try to think in monosyllables these days,” she replied with a smile.

  “You aren’t the only cowboy with a degree,” Kirk told her.

  “How many others do you know with a degree in clinical psychology?”

  “Only a few dozen,” Kirk said with a straight face.

  “Kirk, what’s going on?” Jane asked, her voice serious and piercing.

  “With what?”

  “Not what, who…Cassandra Leeds. Why is she here?”

  “Twin Rivers is a subsidiary of—”

  “Kirk, it’s me, your little cousin. Remember?”

  Kirk nodded and looked away from Jane for a moment. She was his cousin, and the only blood relative he had. She was nine years his junior, twenty-five.

  Jane’s mother and his were sisters. She had grown up on the same ranch as Kirk, and although she had tried to fight it, she had learned ranching was what she really wanted to do with her life.

  Six months ago, Jane had come to him and asked for a job. He had argued and fought with her, but finally gave in. He knew in his heart, he was proud of her for being honest with herself, facing up to the truth and taking responsibility for her future.

  She had come to him and had said “I was wrong. I thought I wanted to get away from ranching and from the people in it. That’s why I went in for psychology. But it isn’t working; I don’t like the life on ‘the outside.’ The people aren’t real.”

  “Kirk, Cassandra Leeds?” Jane asked again, shaking him free of the memory.

  “I don’t know. I think her father wants me to baby-sit. She doesn’t think so.”

  “Why are you so hard on her?”

  “Hard? I’m just doing my job.”

  “Why are you lying to yourself?”

  “Why are you trying to shrink me?”

  “I’m worried about you,” she said, her eyes reflecting the truth of her words. “You pretty much raised me. I know you, Kirk. Cassandra Leeds has gotten to you and you don’t want to admit it.”

  It took several moments for Kirk to reply. When he did, his voice was distant. “Cassandra Leeds is a beautiful shell covering a spoiled, shallow, callous excuse for a woman.”

  “Kirk—”

  “Good night, Jane,” Kirk whispered and looked away.

  Jane stood silently for a moment before she walked away; but in her mind were the unspoken words that were a parody of a popular song. You’ve got it bad, big cousin. And I don’t know if that ain’t good!

  ~~~~

  Cassandra stopped at the side of the road. She stood there for several long minutes, oblivious of the heat of the day or the dryness in her mouth.

  She had spent a long and sleepless night, trying her best to reconcile her actions with reality. She wanted to move forward, to patch up the discordant notes between her and Kirk, and find a way to make Twin Rivers become profitable.

  She had discovered she could not do that by hiding away. She had to go out and see what was happening, learn about more than just the bottom line.

  This was the reason she was standing under the strong Arizona sun, wearing her not yet broken-in boots, and trying to quell the fear-induced rapid beating of her heart. She was about to observe the livestock.

  She knew she had to show her face and show Kirk that she wasn’t afraid of getting dirty. Taking a deep preparatory breath, Cassandra crossed the road and moved toward the corral, ringed with gleefully calling cowboys.

  Twenty feet away Cassandra froze. She saw a wild horse jumping in the corral; on its back was Kirk North. The spotted horse looked like a fearsome vision born of a nightmare, and for just a second, she thought she would never see Kirk again.

  The madly bucking horse soon slowed its frantic maneuverings, and Kirk rode him to the side, where another ranch hand took the reins and led him away. When she was able to breathe again, Cassandra edged closer to the corral.

  No one seemed to take notice of her; all eyes were on the action within the wood-fenced circle. Once again, Cassandra’s breath caught as she recognized the only female ranch hand sitting astride one of the unbroken horses.

  With the nod of Jane Paulson’s head, the man holding the horse released it. The horse bucked on its first step, and tossed Jane up and down.

  Cassandra gripped the wood of the corral so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her eyes locked on the battle, while her heart beat wildly with fear for the woman.

  Yet, Jane seemed unafraid, and Cassandra saw a smile on the woman’s face, mixed with determination. For three more minutes, Jane rose and fell on the beast’s back, until the wild horse began to spin in circles, bucking hard as it did.

  On the last turn, Jane lost her grip, and Cassandra’s teeth sank into her lower lip to stop herself from screaming as Jane arced in the air and fell unceremoniously in the dirt.

  An instant later the redheaded cowgirl was standing, a smile on her face. The men circling the corral applauded her ride with catcalls and whistles, expressions of respect.

  Forcing her heart to beat calmly, Cassandra tried to dismiss her fright and appear calm. Just as she succeeded, Kirk mounted another of the spotted white horses.

  This one seemed unusually large, its head high, its ears turned forward in a sign of danger.

  Her heart beat faster, but this time not in fear for herself—she was afraid of what might happen to Kirk. Kirk’s face showed nothing except the same determination she’d seen in Jane Paulson.

  The moment they freed the horse, it rose in the air. Cassandra thought the animal had springs on its feet. She continued to watch, keeping her eyes locked on Kirk, watching the way his muscles knotted as he strained to control and break the horse.

  His shirt, soaked through with perspiration, stuck to his torso like a second skin, allowing Cassandra to see the interplay of muscles as he battled the horse. The horse spun and at the same time kicked its rear legs high in an effort to dislodge Kirk. Kirk’s hat flew off with the ferocity of the horse’s movements. His wavy hair bounced freely.

  Without realizing it, Cassandra was no longer a prisoner of her fears. She was free of them for the moment as she watched Kirk ride, lost within the strength, power, and handsomeness of the man.

  Her heart sang its special song to her and brought out all the feelings she had been trying to hide and avoid since the first moment she’d faced Kirk in the lobby of the office building.

  Watching him, she forced away those unfamiliar emotions, refusing to allow them a perch within her heart, where they might grow and blossom and only cause her more hurt and anguish.

  Instead, she concentrated on the determined set of Kirk’s strong jaw, which added to the overall picture of total control and mastery he exuded. For the five minutes this session lasted, Cassandra knew no time.

  When the horse stopped bucking and whirling, and Kirk rode it once around the corral, Cassandra returned to reality. As Kirk rode past her his eyes fixed on her, and their brown depths pierced her to her very core.

  Dismounting, Kirk turned to one of the men. “Take over here,” he said. Then he looked at Cassandra. He hadn’t seen her when he’d mounted the horse, but when he’d finished the ride, his eyes had fastened on hers and he’d seen her wide-eyed stare. It took all his effort not to show his surprise.

  Walking slowly, Kirk went over to Cassandra. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

  “Learning. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?” she asked, h
ating herself for using her coolness as a defense while her body burned at his closeness.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Kirk conceded.

  As they spoke, Cassandra became aware that the low rumble of the men’s voices had dwindled away and intuitively knew they were all looking at her, sensing a confrontation between her and Kirk.

  Kirk glance around. “I didn’t know this was a holiday,” he snapped, his voice loud and commanding. One by one, the men returned their concentration to the corral.

  “Let’s go someplace where we can talk, all right?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Cassandra replied.

  Kirk called to one of the men, turned, and whispered in his ear. A moment later the man left, and as he did, Kirk nodded to Cassandra. “We’ll take a ride,” he added.

  “I’d like that.” It was true, Cassandra thought. Perhaps alone they could work out their difficulties and make a stab at running the ranch together.

  Kirk guided her away from the corrals and toward the stables, where Cassandra saw several Land Rovers parked. She saw, too, the ranch hand Kirk had spoken to disappear into the stable.

  “What did you think of the horse-breaking?” Kirk asked, his eyes studying her face openly.

  “It was…exciting,” she replied, thinking not of the horses, but of Kirk as he had controlled the powerful animal. “I’m just surprised there isn’t more to it.”

  Kirk laughed. “That’s only the beginning. The first ride. This will happen a lot more, until each mount is fully broken and responds well to a rider. These particular horses are going to dude ranches. They have to be as well-broken and trained as is humanly possible.”

  “I see,” Cassandra said, although she really didn’t. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jane Paulson walking toward the stable and was about to ask Kirk for an official introduction when he spoke first.

  “Cassandra, I’d like you to meet Suzi.”

  Cassandra turned, surprised for the moment as she saw the ranch hand walking toward them with two saddled horses.

  “Suzi?” she asked, her mouth dry again.

  “Pretty, isn’t she?” Kirk added with a gentle smile as the man reached them. “She’s your mount.”

  “But I thought we were—”

  “Going for a ride. Come on, I’ll give you a hand up,” he said in a friendlier tone than he’d used in the last four days.

  Once again, Cassandra froze as she stared into the large eyes of the horse. Eyes that she was sure were measuring her for a coffin. She tried to speak, but no words came. Her stomach lurched violently, her head spun, and all the blood drained from her face. “I…” She tried again, but nothing came out.

  She shook her head and took a shaky step back. Her eyes went to Kirk, pleading silently, begging for his understanding and help. All she saw were his features turning into a stoic mask.

  Kirk watched her strange reaction and his emotions turn to disgust once again. She had refused to meet him halfway after he had tried, against his better judgment, to help her. Then his anger gained the upper hand, and he stepped close to her. When he spoke, his voice was low, but his fury was tangible.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve been patient, damned patient! You won’t give an inch, will you? You’re supposed to be here to do a job, and the only way you can is by working with me. But you won’t, will you? I don’t think you give a damn about what happens here, not one little bit!”

  As soon as the first angry word was out, Cassandra had backed away even more. Kirk, his face only inches from her, followed her relentlessly, his accusations stabbing her with knifelike intensity.

  “This isn’t one of your jet-set resorts. I’m trying to make this ranch work, which is what I thought you wanted, too. I was wrong, wasn’t I? Perhaps my first impression was right: Maybe all I am is a babysitter for a spoiled brat!”

  Cassandra reeled under Kirk’s ferocious assault, her mind spun: her heart tore apart with pain. She shook her head, denying his words, but over his shoulder, she could still see the horse staring at her, waiting for her.

  Unable to stand any more, Cassandra whirled away from him, tears brimming her eyes, and ran blindly from the stables. She raced across the road, not stopping until she reached the safety and sanctuary of her suite. Once there, she threw herself across the bed, her body drawing in on itself as the low moans of pain and despair, that had been waiting and walled up within very core of who she was, came suddenly free.

  ~~~~

  “Way to go, boss man,” Jane said sarcastically.

  “Don’t start with me,” Kirk ordered, his face mimicking a stiff and angry mask.

  “I don’t know what she said to you, but I definitely heard you.”

  Kirk turned to Jamie Burke. “You can take them back in.” When the ranch hand took the horses away, he looked at Jane.

  “I was going to take her for a ride, try to calm things down so we could work together, but something happened…. She turned pale and started backing away.”

  “When?”

  Kirk shrugged. “When the horses were brought over.”

  Jane sighed and shook her head. “Have you ever bothered to ask her if she could ride a horse?”

  Kirk stared at Jane without comprehension.

  “Kirk, not everyone grows up riding. She’s a city girl, remember?”

  Kirk looked up and caught Cassandra’s fleeing form disappearing around the corner of the main house. “Why wouldn’t she say so?”

  “Maybe she’s afraid to admit it to such a great macho cowboy,” Jane suggested.

  “Macho—” Kirk bit off the word and shook his head. “You know me better than that.”

  “But she doesn’t, does she? What does she know about you? Does she know you used to change my diapers when you were twelve, after my parents died? Does she know you used to hold me at night and tell me stories about what we would do in the future so I wouldn’t be afraid you would die, too, and leave me alone?”

  “This is different,” Kirk said uncomfortably.

  “Kirk, to anyone who doesn’t know you, you’re a gruff, unreasoning, tight-fisted, hard assed—”

  “—I am not a—”

  “—who is the embodiment of gentleness when he lets his guard down. Think about it, big cousin,” Jane said and then walked off to leave Kirk alone with his thoughts.

  ~~~~

  Cassandra turned away from the mirror, and from her red and puffy eyes. Since she’d run into her room this morning, she had not once left it. She’d lain on the bed as she tried to fight her way back to sanity.

  Kirk had been cruel to her, and she’d been defenseless against the force of his anger. She had seen the disillusionment and disdain clearly written across his features.

  Through the torrent of his raging words, she had seen the impossibility of her forbidden hopes. I am a fool! she told herself harshly.

  Cassandra stared at the tired and sad face reflected in the mirror. Then her eyes played a trick, and the scornful face of her father floated across the glassy surface.

  Suddenly Cassandra knew that her father was winning. “No!” she cried. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Cassandra pushed his face away.

  I must fight my fear, she told herself. I must face myself.

  Grasping onto her emerging willpower, Cassandra refused to do anything other than building up strength. Turning, she strode through the suite and took the wide stairs down to the front door.

  When she stepped into the night, she breathed deeply of the cool air but did not stop to gaze at the beauty of the sky. She walked straight, her shoulders held stiffly, her walk determined and smooth.

  As soon as she crossed the narrow road, she smelled the cattle and horses, but did not allow the scents to stop her as she headed toward one of the corrals.

  When she reached it, her hands were shaking and she grasped onto the wooden railing with a tight and powerful grip. There was a quarter moon above and, with the aid of its pale light, she peered inside the co
rral.

  Ten white spotted horses milled about, some standing dead still, others walking slowly. One, lying in the center of the corral, tossed its head back and forth in the dirt.

  The trembling started in her hands until her whole body shook like an earthquake. Nausea rose upward. Cassandra clamped her teeth together and fought it. Staring at the horses, she tried to calm herself.

  When one of the large beasts turned its head, Cassandra swore it was staring at her. Her legs turned to jelly; she bit into her lower lip. The horse moved toward her, and Cassandra flinched. Suddenly she was tasting her own blood and realized she’d bitten her lip.

  They won’t hurt me. They won’t hurt me, she repeated again and again.

  When the horse was barely a foot away, she could see its flaring nostrils. Its ears swiveled back and forth, but it came no closer. The warm moisture of its breath settled on her hands, and her heart threatened to stop beating.

  “H…Hel…Hello,” she finally managed to get past the tightness in her throat.

  The horse didn’t move.

  Do something! she ordered herself. Carefully Cassandra loosened her death grip on the railing and slowly raised her trembling hand.

  Still the horse did not move.

  She reached toward it, her fingers vibrating, her heart thumping, and her breath sharp and gasping. Suddenly her fingertips wavered in the air, a hairbreadth away from the horse. Yanking her hand back, Cassandra leaned against the corral railing for support.

  Still the horse did not move.

  Nothing happened. Once again, she steeled herself to try to touch the animal. Cassandra lifted her hand, this time forcing it not to tremble. She almost succeeded. Slowly, in what seemed like an eternity, she moved her hand.

  “Y…you won’t hurt me, will you?” she asked. As her fingers grazed the soft hair of its nose, that long space between its eyes and nostrils, her breath escaped in a whoosh.

  She did not remove her hand. The horse did not move.

  Carefully Cassandra began to stroke the horse’s nose, her eyes never leaving the horse, her breathing forced, her heart still pounding like a jackhammer.