Their Little Cowgirl

by Myrna Mackenzie

  Steven ran his hand over his face. He left it there for a second, not wanting to face his dilemma.

  "Do you miss your wife?" Jackie asked suddenly. "Do I make it worse?"

  He lowered his hand and looked into her eyes. "My wife and I—our marriage wasn't idyllic. She wasn't happy here, or with me. When she met me, I was a rising college football star. I guess she thought that even though I busted up my knee, I would still be able to take her to high places. She never quite adjusted to married life. She especially hated being forced back to the ranch. By the time she died, we were reasonably content, but not in love. We settled for what we could manage. So, no, you don't make it worse, not in the way you mean."

  She blinked. "Your staying away, the way things began with us…I thought…you didn't dislike me so much anymore."

  She shifted, and heat flooded his body. "I don't dislike you. I like you too much. I can't be near you without wanting to touch you. So, yes, in that way, you make it worse, but that's not your fault. It's mine."

  "I want to touch you, too."

  "Aw, damn, don't say that. Don't let me know that. Because if I know that, I'll take advantage. I can't do that to you, because I can't make promises to any woman anymore. My career fell apart, my marriage fell apart. I don't want to chance anything else falling apart, ever again, especially not when Suzy will soon be old enough to be affected."

  "I know, but I'm going soon. What could happen?"

  He stared at her, incredulous. He reached out and ran the tip of one index finger gently down the side of her cheek. He traced a path along her jaw and down her throat. His finger dipped in the vee of her blouse, grazing her breast.

  She flinched and sucked in a deep breath.

  "What could happen?" he asked. "I'd say…a lot. A lot that neither of us wants, at least in the long term."

  Slowly, shakily she nodded. Then she stared directly into his eyes. "I agree that there are risks, but I don't like what this is doing to Suzy, and I don't want my time here to end on a sad note. Nothing can happen if we don't let it. Let's not let anything happen. We can both be strong. I trust you."

  Steven gave a low growl. "Well, that makes one of us. Come on, let's go back. I guess we can find some way to avoid being in the same place at the same time for too long."

  Jackie studied him. "You're right. We need a plan. I'm good at those."

  Steven grimaced. "I thought I had a plan. Ben was supposed to knock me down if I tried to get near you."

  She laughed, a twinkle in her eyes. "I'm stronger than Ben."

  Steven looked at her. "I'm beginning to think that you're stronger than most people I know. This plan you're working on, make it rock solid. You and I don't need any more unexpected babies."

  She gave a tight nod. "We don't want any unexpected anything. I'll think of something to keep us apart."

  Chapter Twelve

  "There must be something wrong with either my eyesight or this mirror," Jackie whispered as she peered at herself. Her eyes looked brighter and her lips turned up more than they normally did, it seemed. Her entire face looked lit up somehow.

  "Silly. Nothing wrong with the mirror. It's just the company you've been keeping." Steven and Suzy. Not that she saw Steven very much. She made a point of keeping her distance, because they both wanted it that way. But still, she could feel him in the house. She could tell that Suzy was happier. When she had read Suzy the story of The Ugly Duckling earlier that morning, Suzy had jabbered happily. She had kissed the picture book and beamed at Jackie. Those moments alone were enough for joy. Suzy's increased happiness was entirely due to her father's return into her life.

  But trying to keep her own distance from Steven was so difficult, Jackie conceded. And now, she could hear him up and moving around the house.

  "Time to take a walk for a while," she decided. And she pulled on her boots, grabbed her bag of knitting and headed for the door.

  "Are you off again?" Charlotte asked.

  "I'll be back soon. After breakfast, I promise. I'll help you with lunch."

  Charlotte frowned. "I'm not complaining about the work. I'm complaining about the fact that you're skipping breakfast again."

  Jackie wrinkled her nose and then smiled. "Am not." She grabbed a muffin off the plate that Charlotte was carrying and then started to scoot out the door.

  "That's not breakfast—not a whole one, anyway," Charlotte grumbled. "Jackie."

  "Yes, Jackie," a deep male voice said.

  Jackie whirled to see Steven standing there. "Is this your great agenda?" he asked. "You starve and walk your legs off while I get to eat at my leisure?"

  She crossed her arms. "Walking is very healthy."

  "Not eating is not. Now come on in and eat breakfast with me."

  "But you said…"

  "I know what I said. I didn't think you were going to starve yourself to accommodate me. Don't worry, I'll put the whole length of that six-foot table between us, and I'll mind my manners. Charlotte will smack me if I don't, won't you, Charlotte?"

  "You touch her, I'll wallop you with the frying pan," Charlotte said with a laugh.

  Jackie could feel the heat climbing up her throat. "I hardly think that will be necessary."

  "Honey," Charlotte said, one hand on her hip, "He's a man. Sometimes they just need smacking."

  "You've smacked a lot of men?" Steven asked with a slow smile.

  "I walloped Ned Battleman once. Course lately, I've been kind of partial to him. He called me last night. I might even let him kiss me one of these days."

  Jackie's eyes widened. She looked at Steven, who was grinning. "Ned's one lucky man, Charlotte. Maybe I should be the one wielding the frying pan—to protect you from him."

  "Hmpff. Maybe I don't want protecting," Charlotte declared. "Maybe Jackie doesn't either."

  Jackie saw Steven's eyes turn dark and fierce. She thought that maybe Charlotte was right. But what she wanted didn't much matter, not when Suzy was at stake. She opened her mouth to protest.

  "Oh, don't worry," Charlotte said. "I know you two have your own plans. Now go eat your breakfast."

  So Jackie moved into the dining room. Steven stepped around her and pulled out her chair. She felt his body close behind hers as she sat. She worked hard to repress her need to touch him and have him touch her.

  But then he was moving away and heading to the other end of the table. The room grew quiet, the clink of china and silver loud in the stillness. She couldn't help wondering what it must have been like when Steven sat here with his wife. Had they talked about the baby on the way? He'd said they were content in the end. Did he miss that? This forced silence between them was so tense, so unnatural.

  As if he'd heard her thoughts, he cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do to make your last days here easier, happier?" he asked her.

  He could throw caution to the wind. So could she, but that kind of thing always ended up with a price. She shook her head. "I've enjoyed these past few days. Suzy and I played. I read her stories. I walked. Your land is very beautiful. I'm even beginning to develop muscles." She looked down at where her legs rested beneath the table.

  "I'm glad that you're happy, that this turned out all right for you," he said.

  She wouldn't exactly say that. When she left Rollins Acres, she was going to leave a big piece of her heart here, and not just with Suzy. But that would be the stupidest thing to say.

  "I have to go," she said. "I'm walking as much of Rollins Acres as I can. I have it all mapped out. If I leave now, I can cover a lot of ground today."

  And she started to rise, to run from her thoughts. He stood when she did. "Jackie…" Steven began, just as the phone rang in the other room.

  She couldn't stop, couldn't talk to him right now. If she did, she might tell him how she felt, that she didn't want her time with him to end just yet.

  "Jackie, it's for you," Charlotte called.

  Jackie rushed from the room. She took the call upstairs.

 
; "Jackie, please, I know you've got a couple more days, but everything is getting so complicated," Parris said. "All this paperwork, all these people demanding things. I think we're going to lose the Pollock. And Dad called last night. I think he might be waiting for the ax to fall. He didn't seem happy that I was having trouble with the auction or that you weren't here. You know what's going to happen if things fall through."

  The old panic began to build inside her. "I know, Parris." But once she left Rollins Acres, she would never see Suzy or Steven again. That pain was knifelike. It stole her breath. It stole everything good inside her. She still had a little more time here. They might be tortuous days, spent wishing she could be with Steven and knowing that she couldn't, but they were all she had left. And when she left, she wanted her goodbyes to be leisurely and final and the best she could manage.

  "Just hold on for a few more days, Parris. I promise I'll come right back and help you when this is over."

  The silence on the other end of the line was thick. "Goodbye, Jackie," Parris finally said, and she hung up.

  Jackie didn't feel good about that. She didn't feel good about anything. Rushing for the door, she grabbed up her bag of knitting and started walking. Maybe if she walked far enough and fast enough she could stay ahead of her fears and desires and the truth. In a couple of days, she would be back at La Torchere, and it would be as if she had never met Steven Rollins or his daughter.

  Except in her heart, where the pain would never stop. Because her heart would stay here with the man and child she loved.

  Her eyes began to mist. Jackie blinked hard to hold her tears at bay. She sat down on a rock, pulled out her knitting and blindly plied the needles. For hours she sat there, trying to concentrate, working feverishly to finish, to tidy up the loose ends—not just of the blanket but of her heart.

  It couldn't be done. Everything was a mess.

  She rose from her perch and began walking. She looked off in the distance and saw that the clouds had formed into beautiful, puffy shapes against the clear blue of the sky.

  Steven and Suzy saw this all the time, she thought, whereas she would never stand under this particular sky again. When she left, it would be as if she had never been here at all. Years would pass. Steven would forget her, and Suzy would never remember she existed. That was the way it should be. It was what she had told him she wanted when she came here.

  So why were there tears spilling down her cheeks?

  But Jackie didn't even bother trying to answer the question. The answer was so obvious.

  "I love you, Steven Rollins," she whispered. "And Parris is right. It's time to go."

  And that was when she stepped in the hole and fell. The earth came up to meet her, and the green grass turned black.

  Someone was carrying her. No, not someone. Steven. Jackie knew the strength of those arms. She knew that masculine scent of bay rum, leather, horses and man. She just knew, because her heart was full.

  She took a deep breath, her muscles tightening.

  "Don't even think about moving," he said. "You might have hit your head."

  She reached up and felt. "No bumps," she told him in a whisper. His arms tightened around her. She could stay right here forever.

  And if she did…well, he didn't want that.

  "I have to leave," she told him. "Right now. Today. I promised Parris." It was so easy to lie when the alternative was risking the contentment of someone you loved. He'd been telling her for days that she made him crazy, that he felt an urgent physical need for her. She wouldn't lie to herself and pretend that he wouldn't take care of that need once she had gone. Steven wasn't a man who could live his whole life like a monk. Once she was out of here, his world would settle down. He would be content again, as he had been with his wife.

  "Steven, did you hear me? I have to leave."

  He stopped walking. He looked down at her, his jaw tight, his eyes darker than usual. "The doctor's on his way to the house. I'm not sending you anywhere without his okay. All right?"

  She nodded and felt slightly dizzy, but she was pretty sure the doctor would let her go.

  "How did you step into that hole, anyway?"

  She squirmed. "I was looking at the clouds."

  He sighed.

  "I know," she said. "In the city, that's fine. Out here, you have to pay more attention to where you step. You know me."

  "City girl," he agreed, but it didn't sound like an insult. It sounded like resigned acceptance. She supposed he was right. A woman raised to a ranch wouldn't have twisted her ankle in a hole. But the thought of leaving gave her such a profound sense of sadness that it was difficult to think of herself as a city girl now.

  Steven stopped for a moment. He gazed down at her. "If you go, if the doctor lets you leave now, I'll wait until everything clears up for you and your sister. Then I'll bring Suzy to the resort so you can have your last days with her. The bargain was for two weeks. I want you to have your two weeks."

  But she wanted more than two weeks. She wanted forever. It was tearing her apart inside. If she said goodbye now, and then had to do it again…

  "It's okay," she said, daring to touch his arm, allowing herself to feel the bittersweet joy of being connected to him. "You've met your end of the bargain, as far as I'm concerned. When I go, I want that to be it." Her voice was strong, or at least as strong as she could make it.

  He studied her for a long while, his gaze taking in each detail of her countenance. His eyes looked like dark coals, so dark she couldn't read what he was feeling.

  Finally he gave a tight nod and began walking again. Soon enough, Steven had her home. The doctor was waiting, and he pronounced her a little bruised but otherwise healthy. She should take it easy for the rest of the day, but essentially there was nothing keeping her from making her exit.

  Except her heart, and her heart had wanted things it couldn't have before. She had learned not to pay attention to it. The fact that the pain was deeper and greater than she had ever known couldn't matter.

  "I'll go pack," she told Steven.

  He nodded. "I'll take you back."

  The pain grew more intense. She could barely breathe. "Do you mind—would it be all right if Ben took me back?"

  He looked as if she had hit him. She knew he was thinking that she didn't trust him. It wasn't that at all. She was just afraid that if she had to say goodbye to him when there were no others around, she might lose control. Then she might ask him for things he could never give, things like his love, his heart, a future with her. So she kept silent. She didn't correct him and tell him that she trusted him the way she'd trusted no other man in her lifetime.

  "I'll get Ben," he told her.

  "I'll pack and say goodbye to Charlotte and Suzy." Jackie barely got the words past the lump in her throat.

  She went through the motions of packing her things like a mechanical doll. She moved into Suzy's room and nearly stumbled as the realization of all she was losing hit her.

  Picking up the little girl, she pulled her close and buried her face in Suzy's soft skin. She fought the tears that threatened to start again and never stop.

  Suzy cooed and patted Jackie. "Ja," she said in a soft, caressing voice.

  And then the tears began again, a torrent that threatened to tear Jackie apart. She kissed the child that she had once helped to make, then gently placed her back in her playpen and all but ran from the room.

  Steven was standing just outside the door.

  Not thinking, unable to think, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him.

  His arms tightened around her. He held her and stroked his palm down her back. When she started to pull away, he kissed her again—a kiss of searing heat, a kiss meant to last forever.

  "I'll tell her about you. She won't forget," he said, his voice thick.

  And then Jackie pulled back and stared up into his eyes, her own filled with tears, his dark and worried. "I won't forget, either," she said. "Not any of it. Not one minute, Steve
n. Do you understand?" Did he understand what he'd given her? The acceptance, the desire—it had all been so much more than she had ever expected. It had been everything that she ever wanted and never had.

  "I'll remember," she whispered again.

  "Remember this, then," he said and he kissed her once more, this time gently, lingeringly. And then he turned her over to Ben and she moved out to the truck.

  As they sped away over the rough earth, Rollins Acres fell away behind them like a fairy tale fading into the mist of her memory. Everything was over. She would always be a city girl remembering her cowboy and her cowgirl child for the rest of her life.

  "No, no, no, she can't be leaving," Merry cried. She gave Lissa a desperate look.

  "It's over, Merry," Lissa said, her voice resigned and sad. "You'll have to start again with two new people."

  "But they were happy together. And they were good with their little girl together, weren't they?"

  "It doesn't matter, Merry." Lissa reached out to touch Merry, but held back.

  "But it does. There's no hope for happiness for them this way. And I—"

  "I know," Lissa said. Merry was running out of time, and that was too bad. For a moment there she had been completely concerned for someone other than herself.

  Oh well, this experiment with Steven and Jackie hadn't worked and there was nothing to be done about it. One of the most important rules of the curse was that Merry couldn't impose her will on others, and Jackie and Steven had made their choice.

  There was no point in spending any more time trying to throw them together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In spite of Suzy and Charlotte's constant presence, the house seemed empty after Jackie had left, Steven thought as his boots echoed across the old wooden floors. He passed Charlotte who gave him an exasperated look.

  "You could go get her. You could take Suzy to visit her."

  "No, that wouldn't be right. We made a deal for two weeks, and the two weeks are up, or mostly up."

  "She might not feel the same way you do about deals." Steven considered that, then dismissed it as wishful thinking, a dream. Dreams had never been his strong suit. Sitting tight, moving through life a day at a time without wishing for the impossible was his way. It had brought him Suzy and a modicum of contentment. Shooting for a dream might risk not only his own happiness but his child's.