Barri Bryan - Return to Paradise.html

by Return to Paradise (NCP) (lit)

  Kate had eluded answering York, but she couldn't escape her own thoughts. Long after her head was cradled on her pillow, she stared at the ceiling, and mulled over the sad, sordid story York had told her. York's version was, no doubt, a prejudiced one. How prejudiced? Kate wondered. She tried to put the entire episode out of her mind. She couldn't. It stayed to trouble her sleep. and torment her dreams.

  Those same disquieting thoughts hopped back into her head the next morning, nudging into her awakening mind, like a lingering guest who overstays his welcome.

  "Kate? Katie, baby." Belle's voice caused Kate to turn in her bed. She dragged her thoughts to Mamma, and the present. "What?"

  "Are you going to stay in bed all day?" Belle stood at the bedroom door, wiping her hands on her apron, and looking too smug. "I made breakfast." She dropped her apron, and put her hands on her hips. "An hour ago. Are you going to make your ride today?"

  "You know I am, Mamma." Kate sat up on the side of the bed. "But I'm going to take a shower first."

  Kate opened a drawer and began to look for jeans and a shirt. "Can you imagine what Hank would say if I didn't make that ride?"

  Belle leaned her slight figure against the door jamb. "You can ask him."

  The shirt slid from Kate's grasp. "Ask who?"

  "Hank, he's in the kitchen." With that bit of news, Belle disappeared down the narrow hall.

  "Mamma, come back..." Kate blew an irate blast of air from her lungs. "What," she wondered aloud, "does he want now?"

  Whatever it was, Kate decided, it could wait until she had a shower. She slipped out the front door, and around the house, showered, shampooed her hair, and dressed, before putting in an appearance in the kitchen.

  She opened the back door to see Hank, Belle, and Cody sitting around the table, sipping coffee, and discussing someone named Edna.

  Kate had expected some undue comment about her late appearance. All she got was a nod from Cody, a casual, "Hi, Kate," from Hank, and Mamma's, "You want coffee?" If they had conspired to make her feel small and unimportant, they could not have been more successful.

  Kate slid into a chair beside Belle. "Who's Edna?"

  Cody put his saucer down. "Edna's a bovine beauty."

  Kate's puzzled, "What?" was greeted with gales of laughter.

  Hank continued with the explanation. "Edna's a cow."

  "A jersey cow," Belle elaborated. "That's important. Hank brought Cody's pigs over this morning, and he also brought Edna."

  Lines of suspicion creased Kate's brow. "Why?"

  "To milk." Cody poured coffee into his saucer.

  "I didn't know you bought a cow too." Kate stared at the cup of coffee Belle sat before her. "You don't have the money to buy a cow."

  "He didn't buy her," Hank pushed his coffee cup back. "He's just going to milk her. "I've sold all my pigs. I have a couple of guernseys. I don't need Edna now."

  Why should this magnanimous gesture annoy Kate? A multitude of emotions moved in to mix with her vexation. Did Hank think this was a way to make points with her? Was he trying to get her back up to that line shack, and into bed? She remembered Gina, young, beautiful, and so willing. Why would he bother? "That was kind of you."

  "It's a mutual benefit. I don't have to feed Edna, and I know she's in good hands." Standing, Hank nodded to Kate, "Let's go."

  "Go where?" The bile of belligerence was bitter in Kate's throat.

  "I have to mend some fences up near the line shack. I'll ride that far with you. Come on, get a move on." He was going toward the back door. "Billy Jack's waiting at the barn. That means I have two hands doing nothing." He motioned with his arm. "Let's go."

  Kate decided to think of Hank as an employer, and nothing more. "Yes, sir, boss." She followed him out the door.

  When they got to the barn, Kate was surprised to find that Billy Jack had already saddled Ringo.

  Hank climbed up on Diablo's back. "Get a move on; we're burning daylight."

  Without a word, Kate climbed into the saddle. They had ridden out of the yard and through the surrounding trees before she asked, "Why didn't you send Billy Jack to fix the fence instead of telling him to go home?"

  "You're learning to sit a horse," Hank pushed his hat back, and grinned. "Do you have a thing for Billy Jack?"

  "Don't be absurd," Kate snapped, "I'm old enough to be Billy Jack's mother."

  "That doesn't matter to some women."

  "Or some men," Kate retorted, then bit her tongue.

  "Are you talking about Gina and me?" The sunlight danced across Hank's amused face.

  "If the shoe fits, or in your case, maybe I should say if the boot fits."

  "Are you jealous of Gina?"

  "Certainly not!" On the swift wings of insight, she realized she was.

  "She's jealous of you," Hank said with easy candor.

  They had ridden over a rise and down into a gully. In the distance a covey of quail rose from the grass and took flight across the azure blue of the morning sky.

  "Why would someone as young and pretty as Gina be jealous of me? Is it because I work for you?"

  "Do you work for me, Kate?" Hank chuckled. "I'm beginning to think it may be the other way around."

  Kate disregarded that remark. "It is because I work for you." It pleased her to know that she could make a woman like Gina jealous, what ever the reason.

  "What really ripped her was seeing you with York Taylor."

  "Does she have designs on York?" Kate pulled Ringo to a stop, and watched the herd of cattle that appeared as they rode up from the gully.

  "Every eligible female in South Texas has designs on Taylor." Hank stopped Diablo just ahead of Ringo, and looked back. "You really didn't know." Surprise colored his voice. "The man is rich, passably handsome, and single. What more could you ask?"

  "I must say your assessment of him is much kinder than..." Kate stopped her tongue, but not before Hank's eyes hardened and glittered in the morning sun.

  "So Taylor had regaled you with his version of the truth. Did you believe him?" Before Kate could answer, he gave his horse a kick in the flanks, and veered left, toward the line shack.

  "Will you wait?" Kate rode after him. "You ask me a question, then run away before I can answer." She urged Ringo on, trying to stay up with the larger, more powerful horse. "If I've learned anything in the last three years, it's not to believe everything I hear. I know there are two sides to every story."

  Hank pulled Diablo to a stop and turned to stare at Kate. "You didn't go to bed with Taylor." His question was a statement.

  Kate felt fury explode through the top of her head. "Is that what you thought? You thought I jumped in bed with the first man who asked me?" Hank was looking smugly pleased. Why wouldn't he be? He and York were long-time rivals.

  "The second man who asked you, or don't I count?"

  Kate hoisted her leg over the cantle of the saddle, dismounted, and grabbed Ringo's reins. "He didn't ask."

  Hank slid off Diablo. "I told you he was a fool."

  "Maybe he just looked at me and knew." Kate voiced her thoughts aloud.

  They were walking toward the line shack.

  "Knew what?" Hank took Ringo's reins from Kate's hand.

  "Knew that I wasn't...That I didn't..." She was embarrassed by her own words. "Forget it."

  "That you weren't a good lay? My God Kate, you can't look at a woman and tell that."

  "I suppose you're an authority on such matters." Kate snapped.

  Hank tethered the horses to the hitching post in front of the line shack. "Do you want to find out?"

  "You don't give up, do you?" Kate loosened the chin strap of her hat, and pushed it back.

  "Taylor must have done a real hatchet job on me."

  Kate lagged by the line shack door. "I told you, I didn't believe everything he said. The man has lost his wife. He loved her very much. That has a telling effect on his other emotions."

  "Love, Kate?" Hank questioned with caustic amusement. "Y
ou talk like some smitten teenager. That kind of garbage is for kids."

  She refused to believe he was that cold-hearted. "I suppose you don't believe in patriotism, either, or courage, or any of those abstracts that are more real than anything you see or touch?"

  "I'm a realist, Kate."

  "You're a cynic," Kate answered, "A sexually over-active middle-aged scoffer."

  "And you, Katie love, are a sentimentalist. A sexually repressed, cowardly romantic who is afraid to practice what she preaches."

  "You think it's cowardly to believe in love?"

  "Oh, Kate, come on, your can't even define the word."

  "Yes I can," Kate argued.

  "Okay, shoot," He waited, then offered pseudo assistance by saying, "Love is...go ahead, Kate, tell me what love is."

  She gestured helplessly. "You have to feel it to know."

  Hank Raised an eyebrow. "How long has it been since you felt it?"

  "It's not always a sexual feeling..." Her words trailed away on the end of a helpless sigh, before a bright smile lit her face. "I tried to tell you, I'm not good at this. I'm not much at explaining love either."

  "Did you love what-his-name, John?"

  "Jim." Kate corrected, "His name is Jim. And I did love him, once."

  "How do you know you did? When did it start? Where did it end?"

  "You make it sound like I had a disease." Kate frowned.

  "Then love's a disease?" Hank raised one eyebrow.

  "I didn't say that."

  "Then what did you say?" Hank pulled the shack door open. "Come on in. I want to hear, among other things, how you got so smart about something you're no good at."

  He held the door open, and Kate stepped inside, arguing as she went, "Sex and love are not synonymous."

  "Would you like to bet?" Hank closed the door.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Once inside the shack, Hank pointed toward the cabinet. "Make a pot of coffee."

  "I'm not your slave." Kate made no effort to disguise her annoyance. "Make your own coffee."

  "I thought you said you worked for me." With a shrug, Hank moved toward the cabinet.

  Kate pushed in front of him, and lifted the tin of coffee from the shelf, then reached for the battered pot, and began to dump coffee into it, heedless of the grounds that spilled around its sides, and onto the cabinet and floor.

  Hank watched her with amused interest. "I sure hope you're better at explaining than you are at putting coffee in a pot. If you aren't, I expect I'll get a messy interpretation at best."

  "Why should I bother explaining something to a man who is obviously an expert on the subject?" Kate slammed the lid down on the pot, and set it on the stove. "Are you going to make a fire?"

  Hank tossed his hat onto a chair. "Are you going to put water in the pot?"

  A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Kate's mouth then spread across her face. "I'm not too good at coffee making, either." Reaching for the can of water, she carefully filled the pot.

  "I'll build a fire." Hank broke a piece of stove wood across his knee.

  Kate put tin cups on the table, and they sat down to wait for the coffee to perk.

  Hank propped his elbows on the table, and put his hands under his chin. "I'm waiting."

  "For what?" Kate studied his complaisant expression, and thought that he was enjoying this little battle of words.

  "For that important explanation you promised. You are going to tell me how you got so good at knowing and are still so poor at doing."

  The ghost of words buried so deeply in her psyche, that Kate thought they would never rise again, surfaced suddenly and with tormenting clarity. "Why, Kate? Because she responds to me. Lila's warm and alive in a way you never were." Sudden, bitter tears flooded her eyes. Kate made a mad dash for the door. Blinded by the flow of moisture that gushed forth, she stumbled on a chair that stood too near the door, and would have fallen if a startled Hank had not reached to grab her.

  He didn't say a word, just held her in his arms, smoothing her hair with his hands, and murmuring little sounds of comfort until she stopped crying, and gained some measure of control.

  Kate tried to pull from his embrace. "I feel like a fool. Every now and then those old memories slip up and grab me."

  Hank wouldn't let her go. His touch was gentle, but firm. "Relax, Kate."

  Kate laid her head against his chest and rested in the enclosure of his protective embrace for several minutes before she moved back and wiped her sleeve across her face. "Thank you."

  For the first time since she had known him, Hank seemed ill at ease and uncertain. "Sure, anytime. I never held a woman that way before, and it felt good."

  Kate gave her nose a last decisive swipe. "What way?"

  "I don't know," His shoulders rose and fell in a little shrug. "Not expecting anything, not thinking how long it was going to be before she surrendered, not having to wonder if I was going to please her."

  A sputtering coffee pot demanded immediate attention. And what a welcome interruption it was. Too gruffly, Hank said, "Coffee's ready."

  Very carefully, Kate pushed the pot back, then tested the handle before lifting it to fill the cups. "It smells delicious."

  They sat, two polite strangers, sipping coffee, in a silence that stretched like a band of worn elastic between them. At last, Hank reached across the table and took Kate's hand. "I'm sorry, Kate. If I had known how frail you are, emotionally, I would have backed off."

  "Jim almost destroyed me." She had never admitted that before, not even to herself. "It was not his rejection, but his cruelty, that devastated me. I had this image of myself as a woman and a wife and a mother, he shattered it, with his brutality. I keep trying to put me back together, but I can't find all the pieces."

  Hank stood to his feet, and opened his arms. "Come to me Kate, and don't be afraid. I'm not asking for anything. I want to prove a point."

  Without a question, or a doubt, she stood, and walked into his embrace.

  With infinite tenderness, he enveloped her in a warm hug. "How does that feel?"

  She snuggled in his embrace. "It's wonderful." She could hear the surge of life force within him, feel the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body.

  They stood in the middle of the line shack floor, neither wanting to move, for several seconds, before he brought his mouth down to cover the soft length of her parted lips, in a kiss that was as sensitive as it was passionate. Letting his tongue push inside, to tease, question, then conquer.

  It came slowly, a liquid fire in her veins that flowed out like quicksilver, igniting little points of desire in her throat, down her arms, and all the way to the tips of her toes. A feeling of warm serenity stole through her. Relaxing in his arms, she yielded to his experienced touch, his caressing commands as she fitted her body to his, and locked her arms around his neck.

  Almost before it began, Hank released her, and the embrace was over, but the tingling sensation stayed as Kate gasped for breath, and ran her hands over the heated skin of her face. Her eyes rounded, her mouth shaped into a perfect O. "What was that for?"

  "I wanted to prove my point, and I did."

  "What point?" Kate asked, on the end of a hollow little laugh, that failed to cover the tremor in her voice.

  "There are no frigid women, Kate, only inept men."

  She sat down, afraid her knees might refuse to support her, then folded her hands across her breasts. "I have to think about this."

  Hank pushed his hat down on his head, and picked up his half empty cup of coffee. After a deep swallow, he set the cup on the table, and in the apparent throes of some revelation, whispered, "I'll be damned."

  "Do you want to sit down?" Kate hooked her foot under the rung of a chair, and pushed it in his direction.

  "I think I'd better get out of here." Both hands went up to tug at the brim of his hat. "And so had you. We're burning daylight."

  "I told you, I have some thinking to do." Kate's scrambled senses re
fused to unsnarl.

  "Think as you make your ride."

  "Okay." Kate held on to the back of the chair, as she wobbled to her feet. "I can do that, I think."

  "And I," Hank's spurs rang as he strode toward the door, "have a fence to mend."

  Kate followed him out the door, then watched him ride toward the north fence row before she mounted Ringo, and headed south. Her senses were still reeling from her brief encounter with Hank. How deep-seated had been the belief that she was less than a woman. How quickly Hank had offered her, if not hope, at least the shadow of a doubt.

  But in an amazingly short length of time, other, more pressing thoughts pushed in to claim Kate's attention, Mamma's wedding was only days away, and Suzie would arrive at Paradise tomorrow. Oh yes, there were plans to make, and problems to face and resolve. She had a chance to mend a few fences of her own. Kate nudged Ringo in the flanks, and headed toward home.

  In the distance, a jack rabbit stood up, raised his long spiked ears, looked in Kate's direction, then scampered into the underbrush. Across the open country before her, little heat waves danced in the bright sun, and shimmered against the waving grass.

  Kate thought of the man who had been her father, the man she had never known, could not even remember. What flight of fancy had caused him to name this place Paradise? The first day she and Mamma had come here, Mamma had said, "As long as I had your daddy here with me, it was paradise for me." Mamma had brought her paradise with her. Maybe Daddy had too.

  Kate gave her head a shake. Hank's kiss had made her a little crazy. As the roof of the ranch house appeared on the far horizon, Kate thought, she had a million things to do, and she was lagging along, lost into the spiral of her own wandering thoughts of paradise. "Is that you, Kate?" Belle called as Kate came in the front door.

  "It's me, Mamma." Kate closed the screen door. "Where are you?"

  "Ta-da," Belle sang out as she made a grand entrance into the living room wearing a long dress of flowing pink chiffon. She held the skirt out with both hands, and twirled around. "How do you like it?"

  "It's beautiful, Mamma." Belle's delicately carved features were reminiscent of an old cameo. Her figure was slim, almost frail. How deceiving looks could be. That fragile, lined face and thin body housed an indomitable spirit. "When did you buy that?"