Brice pushed his own hat to the back of his head and folded his arms across his chest. He gave her a cocky smile. "Well, the girl part I know about from firsthand experience." His left eyebrow arched in a suggestive manner. "And likewise for the cow part."
A grin crept across her own face, then she laughed because she couldn't hold it in. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not, but I love the hat." She snatched it from the middle of the bed. "Oh, look, it has a row of little silver cows for the band. Isn't that cute."
"Stetsons are not 'cute.'"
She unpinned her hair and put on the hat, cinching it down tight on her head. "There." She turned in a circle to be admired.
"Not like that. You're wearing it like some city-slicker."
He came into the room and took the hat off her head. "Let me tell you about this particular hat. First off, consider the color—it's black, in case you want to go for another mud ride with my cows. It'll hide the dirt a lot better than your suit did." He ran his finger down the middle. "See here—it has a single deep crease. That makes it good for water drainage, in case you get another hankering to go back on the roof in a rainstorm."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you."
His eyes danced. "You made fun of the sleeping bags. It's my turn."
"Then, I guess it's my turn again." She pushed him backward. He stumbled, then fell onto the bed, spread-eagle across the yellow bedspread. She picked the pillow from the floor, ready to pummel him again, but instead dropped it back to the floor. She took her Stetson from Brice's hand, put it on her head, then slowly unbuttoned her blouse. "What say we christen this new bed?"
His eyes widened.
"Then we should go downstairs and christen that new couch."
His eyes went as dark as Godiva chocolates. Hmm, is that why she craved chocolate so much?
"Then what should we do?" he asked.
"Then, cowboy, I go out and order us more furniture."
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Prudence felt Brice's leg wrapped over hers and his arm draped over her shoulder. Sun streamed through the bedroom window, turning the new yellow comforter golden. His right hand cupped her left breast, and his slow, even breathing warmed the back of her neck. She was in heaven. Or as close to heaven as one got in this world. Brice was an incredible lover. Not that she had much to compare him to, but the way he made her feel was simply not of this planet.
She rolled over to face him. His arms trapped her in an embrace, and he smiled. She said, "I take it you're not sleeping."
"I can sleep later. With you here, I can think of much better things to do." His fingers trailed up her spine and tangled in her hair.
"Dad came to see me this afternoon."
His lingers stilled, and his eyes snapped open. "Uh-oh."
"You just had to go poking around in stuff that was none of your business?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Oh, really."
"Well, he doesn't give you enough credit for being … smart, capable and resourceful. You're incredibly resourceful, you know. You have a lot of good ideas, and even help me with—" He stopped and raised his eyebrows. "You're baiting me along here, aren't you?"
"Yeah, it's great. You don't have to stop."
"Well, now that you mention it, you do make the best fried chicken in all of Serenity, but you must swear not to tell Aunt Lilly I said that, or she'll skin me alive."
Pru made a cross over her heart in pledge. "For your information, things between Dad and me are better than ever. So thanks for the cooking compliment and thanks for interfering." She kissed him on the cheek. "But you should know, this gives me license to interfere in your life when I get the chance."
His hand dropped to the small of her back, and he pressed her body tightly to his. The laughter in his eyes died, giving way to the heated look of passion. His desire for her pressed hard against her leg. "Want to do a little interfering right now?" He kissed her, then covered her body with his.
An hour later, Brice cuddled Pru in his arms and watched her sleep. He thought of how they'd just made love. This time had been slow, agonizingly so, neatly driving him out of his mind with wanting. And it had been delicious since he'd tasted her hair, her lips, her throat, the soft flesh of her belly, the sweetness of her desire for him. It had been incredibly sensuous as he felt her shudder and quiver with passion. He'd never tire of holding her like this, of being with her in and out of bed, of talking with her and making plans with her. The problem was, would his family—and hers—be a constant wedge between them? More important, could he and Pru ever get beyond that if this idea to end the feud didn't pan out?
The phone in the kitchen rang, and Pru muttered, "Let it ring. Your cows can wait and the oil's been in the ground for centuries. A few more hours can't matter."
"What if it's the bank? What if there's a tax question? What if you miss out on buying a choice piece of property in town?"
Pru wrinkled her nose. "Drat!"
Cursing the fact that there was no phone extension in the bedroom, Brice slid out from between the warm sheets, then ran barefoot—and bare everything else—to the kitchen, catching the phone on the fifth ring.
By the time he finally hung up the phone, a part of him wished he hadn't answered it. He had turned to go back upstairs, when he spotted Pru in the doorway of the kitchen. She was wearing his shirt, which revealed more than a hint of cleavage and only covered her to mid-thigh. Her hair was mussed from their lovemaking, and her lips were round and full from his kisses. The new couch was only a few steps away, just begging to be christened.
She said, "You've got that 'something's wrong' look on your face. What's up?"
He sighed, tearing his thoughts away from making love to Pru. "It's the south range. Some of the fences are down and cattle are missing. It could be just one of those things, or it could be rustlers. Every spring this happens. Rustlers have worked the area in the past, but there's no way of knowing if it's that, or just fence needing mending, until we scout around. Uncle Judd and his boys are up there now rounding up strays, but I should go take a look, too."
"Can't Judd and his boys handle it?"
"Pru—"
"I know, I know, you run the Half-Circle." She let out a deep breath. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe the Half-Circle runs you?"
"As much as Randolph Inc. runs you?"
She raked her hair with her hand, sending auburn strands flying and his hormones on a rampage. "So, what are we going to do about Pine Tree Ridge? Postpone it?"
"I'll be back in two days. Promise."
"Two days." She sighed in resignation. "Well, that will give me time to get some work done at the bank for a change. Maybe I can even clean out the rest of the closets for the Garden Society sale and drop off those letters to Grandma Eulah."
"You'll be busier than me. Say, when you're in town, could you remind Hoof and Hardware to deliver the materials to the ridge on Saturday? I'll have Derek come over and feed the cattle, and let him spring our plan on the rest of the McCormacks. Probably better coming from him, anyway. It won't look so contrived. He'll undoubtedly try to rustle the down payment on a new truck out of me for all this—but he'll do it."
He went to her and tipped her chin, bringing her face close to his. "This idea of ours is going to work, Pru. It has to. I'll meet you at the ridge on Sunday at noon, if I have to ride one of my own cows to get there. Keep the faith, okay, darlin'?"
She gave him a wide-eyed look and bit back a laugh. "Darlin"? Where'd that come from?"
"Well, now, that's cowboy talk for when the menfolk—that's me—have to leave their womenfolk—that's you—behind and head on out to the range." He brushed his lips across hers. "It gets lonesome out on that range, darlin'."
And that was true. He knew all about loneliness because he'd been alone most of his adult life, on and off the range, sharing very little of his thoughts and problems with anyone. Until now.
* * *
Prudence stood tiptoe on the top of a stack of books and reached the top shelf of the bedroom closet. Sunny said, "You're going to kill yourself using those books as a ladder, and with all that's going on at Pine Tree Ridge Sunday, you can't afford to be dead."
Prudence grunted as she reached a little farther. "There's something back there, I can feel it."
Sunny rolled up her shirtsleeves and tugged a carton of books across the hardwood floor and into the hallway. "Let it go—we've got enough stuff for the Buttons and Bows Sale."
"Ross Restorations said I should get anything I want out of the closets before they start enlarging them next week. I can still feel one more bundle of something way in the back. It might be another pack of Grandma Eulah's letters. I know she'd like to have them. Thought I'd surprise her with them tomorrow. We can all do lunch. My treat."
Sunny did a backward shuffle, dragging the box as she went. "If we end up doing lunch in the hospital while you're in traction, that is not going to be a treat, and Brice will have my head for putting his new wife out of commission, if you know what I mean."
"What I need is more books to stand on," Prudence said as she stepped off her perch.
Sunny stood and propped her hands on her hips. "Do you ever listen to anyone?"
"Depends if I like what they're saying." Prudence flashed a devilish grin as she added another handful of books to her stack. "There. That should be enough."
"Enough to get yourself killed." Sunny slid the box the rest of the way into the hall.
Prudence gingerly stepped onto the wobbly stack. "It's perfect."
Sunny reappeared in the doorway and said, "A perfect accident waiting to happen, if you're asking me. Don't do anything until I get over there to hold on to you."
"No need." Prudence reached into the closet and easily nabbed the parcel. "Got it." She inched the parcel forward. "Piece of cake." She stretched again to get a better hold, and felt the books begin to tip. "Sunny?" Prudence grabbed the shelf as the books under her slid sideways.
"Prudence!" Sunny raced across the room to grab Prudence, but missed as Prudence toppled onto the floor, taking the shelf and bundle of papers with her.
Sunny knelt down next to Prudence. "My stars, girl. Are you all right? Say something."
"Ouch!"
"Prudence, dear heart, I'm thinking as long as you're living out here you should consider upping your medical insurance a tad. Are you all right or not?"
"I'm … just … peachy." Her voice sounded like a puffy squeak; the wind had been knocked clean out of her lungs.
"Should I call 911?"
Prudence shook her head. "Just give me a minute to see if all my parts still work."
Sunny picked up one of the papers that had fallen from the shelf, while Prudence made sure she could move her fingers and toes. Sunny said, "You'll be unhappy to know you just risked your neck for an electric bill from 1972."
Sunny fanned through the rest to the stack of papers. "In fact, this bundle you were trying to reach is bills from 1972." Sunny slid another paper from the stack. "Look here, the Dillards bought a refrigerator for two hundred dollars. Now, those were the good old days." She picked up a few more bills. "Don't think Eulah has any interest in old bills."
Pru sat up and took a deep breath, feeling good that this time the air went all the way down her windpipe. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "At least I have that one bundle of letters for her. She'll like that." As Prudence studied the scattered books on the floor, her gaze suddenly landed on a splotch of faded yellow. "What's this?" she asked as she picked up a dried flower petal from the floor.
Sunny bent toward Prudence and looked closer.
"Well, now, I'd say it's a rose petal. Looks like a yellow Peace Rose, if you ask me, and there are more petals over by that shelf that crashed on the floor right along with you."
"Let's not talk about anything crashing on the floor right now, okay?" Prudence said as she reached for the shelf and picked up one end. There were faded letters of some kind lying on the floor with the rest of the yellow rose. The yellow rose had a bow tied around the stem, with Eulah's name on a discolored, heart-shaped card.
"Oh, my gosh. Sunny, these must be love letters from Granddad Thomas the year before he and Eulah married. This is such a great find. Eulah must have tacked them under that old shelf the summer she stayed with the Dillards, then forgotten about them." Prudence felt her face light up with happiness. "She'll love getting these."
"Look again, dear."
"Look at what?"
"Look at the bottom of the letter that's over by your knee. The one that's half open, with the bottom part showing. It's signed 'All my love, Wes.'" Sunny looked Prudence dead in the eye. "Wes is not Thomas."
"Le me see that." Prudence snatched the letter from the floor and stared at the signature. Her heartbeat rocketed, her head seemed to be floating off her shoulders. What was going on here?
Sunny said, "We shouldn't be snooping. No good has ever come from snooping, I can tell you that, and if you unfold the rest of that there letter, you'll be snooping like all get-out."
Prudence could barely breathe. "What if this letter is to Eulah?"
"It's none of our business, Prudence."
"What if Eulah and Wes were … were … involved?" Prudence swallowed. "Lovers, maybe?"
"It's none of our business, Prudence."
"Eulah and Wes have put me and Brice through a living hell for years with their constant arguing and battling. Do you know how many times Brice and I have gone to court because of these two doing battle? How could they do that? How could they pretend to be enemies all these years when … when… I have a right to know, Sunny. Blast them."
Prudence whipped open the letter, and immediately wished she hadn't.
"What?" Sunny asked. "What is it? You look like death warmed over."
Prudence handed the letter to Sunny. "Seventy years ago, Cilus McCormack knew there was oil on the Half-Circle before he bought out Jacob Randolph's share. Wes told Eulah because they were trying to put an end to the feud even then, and he thought this might force a compromise between the families."
Prudence faced Sunny. "What am I going to do? If I give this letter to my dad, he'll go after the Half-Circle like a duck on a June bug. He's just looking for an excuse to do that—he has been all his life." Prudence felt her heart thud. "Brice could lose a huge portion of his land."
"But, Prudence dear, blood is blood. You are a Randolph, the next head of the Randolph family. Is it fair to the Randolphs to have been tricked out of what was rightfully theirs? You can't just pretend this letter doesn't exist, though … if you hadn't read it like I suggested you—"
"I know, I know." Prudence closed her eyes and prayed the earth would swallow her up. When that didn't happen, she looked at Sunny and continued. "But I did read the letter. What am I going to do about it? I have to choose between my family and Brice."
"Prudence, dear, could you really live with yourself if you didn't tell your father and the rest of the family? This is something that has to be settled by both families, not just you. It's not your decision to make."
Prudence felt her heart crack. She was sure it did, because no other pain could be so harsh. "Brice will hate me for the rest of his life. How am I going to tell him I'm the one responsible for putting the Half-Circle in jeopardy?"
* * *
It was almost eleven when Brice turned onto the gravel road that lead to Pine Tree Ridge. The two days he'd just spent with his uncle and cousins had to have been the longest days in history. Even the fact that the sky today was Texas-blue and a gentle breeze was whistling through the pines didn't put him in a good mood.
How could anything compensate for sleeping on hard ground instead of wrapped in Pru's arms, smelling bovine instead of warm vanilla, listening to cowboy talk and banter instead of Pru's conversation and easy laughter? He was a bit early for the meeting of the families, and he prayed Pru was earl
y, too. If he didn't get at least one kiss from her before everyone showed up to work this afternoon, he'd be ornery as an overpacked mule for the rest of the day.
Making the last turn to the top of the ridge that marked the picnic area, Brice heard the distant thud of hammers at the same time as he caught sight of trucks and various older SUVs parked everywhere. There were two pickups with the Half-Circle brand painted on the side, and other trucks he knew belonged to his younger relatives.
A few souped-up classic sports cars were parked side-by-side, and some compacts were lined up beside Pru's Lincoln. Farther up the hill, he saw the younger set of McCormacks and Randolphs hauling lumber.
Damn. So much for being early. He and Pru wouldn't get two seconds alone, now. He should have let Uncle Judd and his boys finish mending the fences without him. He should have come home earlier. Maybe he should have let Judd handle the whole broken fence thing and not have left Pru in the first place.
He'd never before felt that way about running the Half-Circle. It was unsettling. The ranch was his world—except that he had Pru in his life now, and that made a difference.
Brice spotted her standing among boxes of nails, shingles and piles of two-by-fours and four-by-fours. Off to one side was a table crowded with covered dishes and pots. Wooden half-barrels nearby probably held drinks. Once again, Pru had outdone herself, taking charge of the situation when he wasn't around.
She was wearing her cowgirl hat and one of his flannel shirts that fit her like a coat. It was … familiar, intimate. His insides stirred, remembering when they had last made love, and she'd worn that hat and nothing else. She looked incredibly sexy—though, Pru could be wearing a grain sack and goulashes right now, and he'd undoubtedly think that was sexy, too.
He'd missed her more than he'd ever have thought possible! Every inch of him wanted her right this very minute, and with a little encouragement from her he'd be willing to find a deserted patch of grass, or hillside or even the back seat of her Lincoln, and show her just how much he'd missed her.
Derek rapped on the door of Brice's truck, making him jump in his seat and yanking his thoughts to what was happening around him. He said to Derek, "Isn't everyone here a little … early? Thought I said noon. It's ten, that's not noon." He resisted the urge to growl out the last sentence.
COURT-APPOINTED MARRIAGE Page 13
